A/N; I'm back :D I haven't written anything on here in so long- I apologize for that. I know some of you are waiting for updates for certain stories and I'll try to do that. It's been a hectic year and I haven't had any motivation. But, I found some and, well, yeah-

Title; A Angels Love For Her Son.

Summary;

Sam has come down with a nasty cold but is still determined to save people. Their recent case involves...angel? Neither boys believe they exist, not physically, but they soon learn that they are very real and one by the name Rose needs their guidance and help in order to save her son.

Chapter One:

It had reached midnight, the clock on the side table by the bed read exactly twelve a.m and though it was a time many found themselves in a deep slumber Dean couldn't have that luxury. His loud, obnoxious thoughts kept him awake and unable to really drift into that sweet, black oblivion of nothingness. These days, they refused to silence and left the Winchester in a rather nasty mood. Like now, he felt irritated and fiddled with the cover slowly. Green, forest orbs remained locked on the overhead ceiling with no interest. His breathing, along with Sam', whom was fast asleep in the bed beside him, was the only audible sound within the four walls of their rundown, small motel room. Not even the static from the TV sent out a loud buzzing like usual. Maybe it was because the volume was all the way down since Sam rather it be when they both turned in for the night.

After what felt like hours of simply laying and having a staring contest with the ceiling, Dean finally moved. The sheets under him rustled as he raised and swung his legs to the side to plant his feet to the cold floor. Rubbing a hand down his face, he sighed softly and stood to make his way to the bathroom. Dean flipped the light switch on shut the door, mindful not to make too much noise as to not wake his brother. The man was in between a heavy and light sleeper. The smallest of sounds wouldn't even touch Sam' conscious and sometimes the worse thunder storm couldn't. It honestly depended on how tired the male was. Surprisingly enough, that wasn't often since his brother slept rather peacefully each time.

Dean stretched obnoxiously with a hum, grabbing a rag and wetting it in the sink with cold water. He then rubbed his face with it not bothering to ring it out. Though he tried to avert his thoughts elsewhere, it seemed they were persistent in torturing his mind with words and vivid images. They were fierce and refused to be altered. Grumbling under his breath, Dean shook his head and threw the rag down grumpily. "Pull it together, Dean."

He said slowly, knowing he and Sam had a case today and that his relentless doubts and fears could very easily get him or his brother killed.

It wasn't that easy, however, because since that day, five days ago, when Sam went missing he hadn't been able to close his eyes and NOT get a visual of his brother falling to the icy water bellow. That fear had gripped him tight and would not ease its hold. Dean has witnessed the man be shot, punched, kicked, stabbed, drugged and so on, on MANY occasions yet every time it happened it did not settle his worry or make his reactions any less than such. He was a brother and Sam was his only one. The idea of losing him didn't sit well with Dean and never would. Luckily, he did find Sam a few hours later. Those threw hours were pure hell as he ran around the forest trying to locate him, pretty sure his mind would cave in on itself with the amount of 'what ifs' and images that calculated.

Dean opened the door and walked back out, wanting to try and sleep, but he heard a barely audible cough come from Sam which drew his attention to the tall male sleeping on his chest and torso. He cursed under his breath and moved to table.. They had unpacked for the most part but their meds and such were left unattended in the bags which were opened on the chairs. He dug around in one until he found the cough medicine that, thankfully, Dean thought to buy after Sam' kiss with the bitter cold Lake water. It was December so the temperatures were not kind, reaching about 5° degrees or lower. Popping the lid off and grabbing a spoon, he then moved to the bed and shook Sam' shoulder lightly.

"Sammy." He said the name no longer quiet.

Sam grunted and mumbled something. It was muffled but Dean was sure he said; stop and let me sleep. He chuckled a little because Sam had always been stubborn.

Dean hummed and shook his head. "No can do. Up-" He instructed firmly and grabbed the blanket, throwing it off his brother's gigantic form. "Come on, Sam."

Sam sighed, now awake, and rolled over onto his back. He threw a arm over his face even though their wasn't any light to bother the male asides from the TV and the bathroom since the door was still wide open but even then the light didn't fall upon the bed. He lowered his arm after a moment, giving his famous 'bitch face'. His gaze went to the clock and he groaned at the time. Why was Dean even up and why did he think it was nice to wake him too? They had a job in the morning.

"Dean, it's late. We have to get up at like seven." He pointed out.

Dean sat on the bed, nodding, but this was more important at the moment. It would do neither of them any good if one of them came down with a nasty cold. He held out the medicine and spoon to the male. "Yeah, well, blame your cough."

He snorted, waiting for Sam to take them.

Sam furrowed his brows, not aware he had coughed. Rolling his eyes, he accepted them and poured some into the spoon. He nor Dean appreciated medicine. It was revolting and honestly made his stomach churn violently at the thought alone. He learned from a young age why kids kicked up a fuss when made to take it. The taste was awful even with the fruity flavors some came in. Despite the variety, he hadn't tasted one yet that didn't taste absolutely disgusting. He made a face that displayed his distaste for it. "That's disgusting." He stated, handing them back to Dean.

Dean, satisfied, stood and moved back to the bags. He put the medicine in it but disposed of the used spoon. He then moved to the bathroom to shut the light off before going back to his bed to lay down. "Disgusting or not, you'll thank me later."

He breathed out, his body relaxing into the mattress, though these were hardly comfortable. "Night Sammy."

He said, changing positions so he was laying on his chest and torso like usual, arms sneaking under the pillows where his gun lay for easy access.

Sam returned the words after getting back into his own comfortable position. "Night Dean"