AN: I warned you that there would be a lot today! We needed some Dean perspective, I thought. Again, not long, but I wanted a small Dean/John interaction.
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Dean stood outside the motel room door, wishing he could see inside. There was no way Sam was asleep in there, despite Dad's dictate. Kid had been a ball of nervous energy since he'd found this hunt. Dean should know – they slept in the same room. Or tried to sleep. He'd been tuned into Sam's sleep for too many years to sleep through the teen's tossing and turning. Sam had been muttering in his sleep, too, but Dean couldn't make out any words. It was a shame, because Dean could have used the insights into his little brother's thoughts. It still bothered him that he couldn't figure out what Sam was doing or thinking or planning. He was used to having the inside track on all things Sammy.
Dean tapped the wall lightly with his fist. He'd all but asked Dad to confront Sam. But Dad had (rightly) pointed out that nothing made Sam dig in his heels harder than when he felt backed into a corner, especially when it was Dad doing the cornering. So Dean had started the pester Sam until he talks to me plan into place.
Except, Sam was proving very good at dodging big brother. This morning, he was up before the sun, out the door doing a morning run. A very, very long morning run. If he hadn't passed the motel every 10 minutes or so, Dean would have taken the car out to find the nutjob. Then Sam showered. Then he volunteered to go walk to pick up breakfast. Then he reorganized the trunk, managing to finish up just as Dean came out to help.
Of course, he couldn't dodge forever, but Dean's gut told him that he was running out of time. For what, he didn't know, but his Sammy's in trouble radar hadn't failed him before.
"He'll be okay, Dean," said Dad. Dean didn't jump, because he'd heard him coming. Dean nodded wordlessly, and a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. It was the equivalent of a hug coming from the older man. "He will. He'll be far away from the fighting with both of us watching out for him. And these okami groups are usually no more 6 to 8, nothing you and I can't handle. Besides, it's supposed to be a clear night and full moon. We'll be easily able to keep an eye on him."
Dean's worry must have been more visible than he realized to get such a long speech from Dad. He felt himself relax marginally. He wasn't alone in trying to keep the stupid kid safe. "You're right," he said, turning to give Dad a small smirk. "Even that trouble magnet can't get into too much shit with us watching out for him."
Dad's dimples peeked through his 3-days' growth of a beard. "Careful what you say. Sammy might just take that as a challenge."
Dean chuckled, shoving his worry down so Dad didn't see it in his eyes. "No kidding. He's the dumbest genius I've ever met." That made Dad laugh too, and Dean felt a little better yet. But that didn't mean he'd let Sam out of his sight until he learned what was wrong. He wouldn't give up, not when it had to do with Sammy. He couldn't forget the glimpses of vulnerability he'd seen when he'd offered kindness or understanding. When he'd touched Sam's neck the day before – a common gesture for Dean to make – Sam had suddenly looked like he was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. Oh, he'd covered it pretty fast, but Dean couldn't get the pain he'd seen there out of his head. A part of Dean wished Winchesters were better about giving hugs. Sam had always been more touchy-feely than the other two, but that was gone too since the later teen years, which had first turned him as prickly as a porcupine then into this silent stranger.
This latest iteration wasn't Sam at all, and Dean was determined to get his brother back, no matter what it took.
I don't know what demons you're fighting, Sammy, but I'll figure it out. And then we can fight 'em together.
