Ok, I just read this book called Pedro Paramo. Very surreal, and odd. I kinda liked it and it inspired me. Please read this with an open mind. There's only wincest if you look for it. I don't own Supernatural, sadly. Also, I recently EDITED this chapter. YAY!

I don't own anyone in this story, sadly.

Sam started awake, eyes wide, hands clutching the cheap motel sheets with a white-knuckled grip.

'What?' he thought. The dream, which had woken him, slipped through the tenuous hold the younger man's mind had on it. Sam Winchester always remembered his dreams, pleasant or not. This…empty… dream had left a curious blank. From nearly all of his dreams, Sam was always left with…something.

A feeling, a need, a want – guilt, from his nightmares…Jess and Mom floated behind his eyes and Sam shook his head, dispersing the images…a hunger to see, to really look at what he could only seen in his head, the visions, prophecies, foretellings…the desires, to have that warmth that he had rarely felt in his life, just being around HIM made the cold recede, if only to taste that forbidden fruit…

Scrubbing his eyes with the backs of his palms, he mentally cursed. Sam was wide awake and it was, glancing at the clock, 3:52 AM. Great. Another sleepless night with only his thoughts to keep him company. And they weren't much fun.

Shifting his head, Sam could see the outline of HIS form on the other twin bed in the yellow bars of light. HE was illuminated slightly, as HE was nearest to the window, yellow mixing with grey to form a kind of light nothingness.

Sam desperately wanted to wake HIM up, if nothing but for the soothing banter, the teasing that he knew would result. Maybe there would even be a thrown pillow. Sam knew that HE was sore and tired from the day's hunt and waking HIM would just be selfish, and it wasn't that bad...

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Dean quietly opened his eyes, murky brownish-grey-green eyes slowly adjusting to the dim motel room. HE was awake.

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Sam missed the days of his youth. Those dreams, those frustrating, frightening, confusing dreams, when they came, left...quickly. HE drove them away, great flaming sword held in HIS right hand, shining yellow-grey armor glinting. The left hand held Sam's, clutched tightly, warm and strong. Curled together, Sam was covered and shielded by HIM, entwined, two parts of one whole.

Then, there were no…blanks…

He hated them! Sam hated them. They made him think, wonder, guess. And for what? Insomnia and grouchy days, grumbling and snarling at the only one, HIM, who could make it all go away. Sam could just go over there, but then HE might get angry, push him away.

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"Nightmare, Sammy? Cuz if you're up, and keepin' me up for nothing, I'll be pissed."

"How'd you know I was awake?"

"Dude, can you answer the freakin' question? I'm tired."

"Jerk. Umm, but yeah, it was a dream...I'm not sure what it was about. It woke me up though."

"Oh really? I wasn't sure if you were awake. Coulda sworn you were passed out during this little chat."

"Dean…"

"Sammy, move over."

"Wha…Dean, this is a twin bed!"

"If it can hold your fat ass, it sure as hell can hold mine. Now move!"

"Err… thanks, Dean. I, uhh-"

"Can it, college boy."

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Dean shifted. He could feel HIS heartbeat. HIS even and steady breath. Finally. HE was asleep.

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As Sam drifted into the peaceful world of protected sleep, yellow grey light covered both the brothers, illuminating them in a brief glimmer of brilliance.

Hope you liked! Review please!

Guys, it ain't really wincest, just as an FYI. Also, I feel the need to explain a bit about this. My Lit class in school is very into finding meaning in every little thing written. I suck at writing, but I was going for some kind of effect. Not really sure what that effect is, though. Sam's inner workings were more disjointed and rambling, but very intelligent. Dean's were rather short and to the point. There will be more Dean thoughts next chapter (he was tired in this chapter, give him some credit!). YAY!