AN: Well hello there, I'm back at it again with another chapter. This one is going to seem pretty short after the giant that was this weekend's post, but I didn't want to try cramming in content that just didn't need to be there in this more emotion driven bit to the story. Thanks for reading and leaving your comments, I really appreciate them. Enjoy!

-GNS-

Chapter 6:

"So," Sam began, "in your world…are we close?" His chestnut hair had fallen into his face, and his big doe eyes peaked out from between the locks. It made him look so much younger.

"Close?" Dean asked, "Of course, you're my brother." He said the word with the same weight he always did—like it was a promise, a vow. He let it settle in the air with their entire history between them, all the fights and death and end of the world between them. It was the only apology they had ever needed, the thing they they always used to show how much they cared. No matter how many all out fights they've had or the blows they had thrown—it was always enough.

"You say that like it's supposed to mean something to me," Sam said, shifting back in his chair. Dean's face fell flat.

"Doesn't it?" He asked, shifting forward in his chair.

Sam shook his head. "I never had what you and Henry have, I've never had…" he trailed off.

"A brother?" Dean asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Someone to look out for me," Sam said simply, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair as if the thought was so second nature to him it didn't really matter. Dean's stomach bottomed out and a familiar, fiery anger that had been creeping up in him as of late spread through his veins. How bad had this Dean failed Sam? How could he have left him for nothing? Not even cared? Abandoned him? "Henry was always the one who needed protection. And you, well you needed to be needed. He stuck to your hip like a third leg, and I, well I was just wallpaper to the two of you. Things were a little better for the two of us after Henry left for Yale, but it was two short years and you two kept in touch. After he came back, all of that ended, though."

"If I could give your Dean a piece of my mind," Dean growled, slamming his hands against the table, fists clenched in white knuckled rage. Sam didn't flinch, but he seemed surprised at the amount of raw emotion he was displaying—how much he seemed to care.

"In your world, I really matter that much to you?" Sam asked, looking like a hurt puppy. Dean was amazed by how much the man's tough exterior really hid, how deep the façade went.

"Matter? Sam, there isn't anything, past or present I would put in front of you. The world could burn to the ground for all I cared, as long as—" the door swung open and both men snapped back in their chairs. Sam's face went hard again, his mouth a ruler-straight line and Dean tried to appear as laid back as possible, even as fury still warmed in his belly like a shot of Jack.

"I got the stuff," Henry said, plopping a large bag onto the table. His eyes swung from one brother to the next. The tension in the room was palatable. "Are you guys alright?"

"We're fine," Sam snapped, eyes cold. Dean wondered vaguely if Sam could give himself whiplash with how fast he changed personas. One second he was just some lonely kid, and the next he was—well, kind of a dick. Henry flicked his attention toward Dean, unsure.

"Yeah, we're all good, just talking is all," Dean answered, brushing off Henry's gaze with his words. He reached for the bag and poured out the contents onto the table. Out fell a small pair of blue tennis shoes, and a large tan teddy bear wearing a hat and sunglasses.

"What the hell is that supposed to be?" Sam asked, throwing his arms up into the air.

"Look, it was the best they had—we'll just put the shoes on the bear… you said it yourself, their eyesight sucks," Henry explained, jaw clenched in frustration as he snatched the bear from the table. He began shoving the shoes onto the rounded bear feet one at a time, before angrily tying the laces in a hurried flourish. "See? Looks just fine to me." Henry looked over at Dean, begging for some support.

"I think it'll be enough to get it to rear it's ugly mug," Dean shrugged, casting a half smile toward Henry. "You did beary good," Dean chuckled, "ha-get it? Beary? 'Cause it's—"

"Yeah, because it's a bear," Henry sighed, unamused and accompanied by the rolling of his coppery green eyes.

"Well if that fucker doesn't fall for it, it's on you," Sam said, his look piercing. The stare down lasted only a few seconds before Henry conceded. He grumbled something about using the bathroom in response and stomped away, throwing the bear down on his bed as he went.

"Would it kill you to be a little nicer to the guy?" Dean wondered aloud; head cocked at an imploring angle. Dean knew that Sam was bitter about their relationship, but picking fights wasn't really the best way to go about the whole deal.

"Hey, that's your job man—not mine," Sam answered with a shrug, "Henry and I have an understanding."

"Yeah," Dean huffed, rubbing the back of his neck firmly with the tips of his fingers, "and I have a headache."