Chapter 4: Orion

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You see those stars? No, no, there, to the east.

I think I see it, Sammy.

And see the four stars around it? That's Orion, and the line of stars is his belt.

Orion, huh?

Yeah. My favorite constellation.

Only nerds have favorite constellations.

Shut up, Dean! I'm serious.

Okay, okay. So, why's he your favorite?

Get this. He's a hunter.

A hunter?

Yeah. One of the best. He's, like, the godfather of hunting. So I think that should make him the hunter's constellation.

Who says he's the best, huh?

He's in the Odyssey. You know, by Homer?

You mean Homer Simpson? Who knew he wrote a book?

Are you serious? Man, you should start paying attention in school. Maybe you'd actually learn something for once.

C'mon Sammy, you know I'm too busy picking up chicks to pay attention. Besides, that's what I've got you for.

You're such a jerk sometimes, Dean.

Well, I know one thing for sure. Someday we're gonna be better hunters than this Orion dude.

You really think so?

I know so.

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Dean blinked at the memory. It had felt so vivid, that night with Sam under the stars in Oklahoma. Their dad had been hunting a werewolf, and usually Dean would've been right there with him, wouldn't have missed hunting a werewolf for anything in the world, but he'd broken his arm on their last hunt and was sidelined. He and Sam had ordered a pizza and hiked out into the middle of the flattened cornfield by their motel and sat under that massive blanket of sky.

It was kind of like the sky he was under now, only now there were more trees blocking his view. And a bridge. Wait, why was there a bridge?

"Dean!"

And Sam sounded so much older. When had that happened?

Rocks tumbled by his head, and he turned to look as Sam dropped to his knees by his side. He had that look on his face, the one that emphasized the frown line between his eyebrows.

"Dean. Hey. Are you okay?"

Sam looked down at his brother, noticing the confused look in his eyes, not to mention the blown pupils. He had already guessed Dean would have a concussion after having his head slammed into the rocky shore on his way into the river. It was just one more thing to add to the older Winchester's growing list of injuries, starting with the festering wound beneath the soggy bandages under Dean's shirt.

He felt a pang of guilt for that one. In fact, he felt responsible for this whole damn thing. If he hadn't picked that fight, Dean would've been more focused, wouldn't have been taken off guard by the frog from Hell.

"Dean, answer me man. Come on."

Sam watched as Dean opened his mouth to speak but coughed instead. It was a hacking kind of cough, and Sam swore he could hear Dean's lungs rattling.

Quickly Sam sat, pulling Dean sideways into his lap so that his head and shoulders rested on his thighs. He wanted to get him more upright to help his breathing and get him off the painful rocks, but secretly he was just desperate for a reminder that his brother was alive, for closeness. The image of Dean's blue lips and slack face was sure to be a reoccurring guest star in Sam's nightmares.

Dean didn't struggle against the intimacy, which just proved how exhausted he was, how close Sam had come to losing him.

They sat in silence. Dean had closed his eyes at being moved, the pain of his various injuries being jostled enough to send a white-hot flare through his system.

After a while, he opened his eyes. He looked up at Sam, who was looking up at the sky. Searching.

"Orion?" Dean asked, his voice hoarse.

Sam's head whipped down, his expression baffled. How could Dean have known that? He let the question die, unasked. "I thought you had passed out again. You okay? It's good to hear you talking."

"I'm fine, Sam."

The younger Winchester looked back up at the stars, and Dean did the same. After a minute, Dean pointed up.

"There."

"Huh. Yeah, you're right."

Sam paused, then spoke again.

"You know, when you and Dad were gone on a hunt, I'd go stand in the motel parking lot and look for Orion. I thought if I found him, and if I asked him to watch over you guys, then he'd make sure you were okay."

"Guess it worked."

"Yeah. Most of the time."

Silence took over again, both brothers reliving moments that they'd rather not, moments that "most of the time" hadn't covered. Bloody motel towels, frantic drives, close calls.

"Do you think you can stand?" Sam asked quietly after some time had passed. "I think we should get out of here."

Dean grunted in affirmation, and together they awkwardly made their way vertical. The riverside spun, and Dean felt himself growing pale with nausea. Sam grabbed Dean's left arm and pulled it around his shoulder. Dean wanted to protest, to not burden his brother, but all he could manage was a sharp breath in through his nose as his chest burned and pulled.

Sam waited, standing firmly, silently allowing Dean time to adjust. Patient, understanding. Dean nodded briskly, and together they began moving towards the rocky hill that led up from the shore to the road.

By the time they reached the top, Dean was desperately attempting to hide the fact that he was gasping for breath. His vision was going black around the edges, and the back of his neck was beginning to sweat. He knew from experience that passing out was next on the menu if he didn't stop moving soon. The Impala gleamed in the moonlight, only feet away.

"Sam," Dean choked out, and Sam barely had time to snap his head to his brother's pallid face before Dean's legs gave out.

"Whoa! Hey. Dean, Dean. No, no, no. Come on,"

Sam had always had a way of rambling when he was nervous, and while Dean liked to mock him for it, he felt calmed just by the sound of his voice. Despite how echoey and far away it sounded this time.

Cool metal greeted Dean's neck, and he realized that Sam had leaned him up against the Impala. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to maintain control of his consciousness, fighting the receding need to pass out. When he finally opened them, Sam was squatting across from him. Worried, again. Always worried about Dean. He was supposed to be the protector, the big brother, and yet it had been Sam worrying about him far too often lately. Dean looked away, unable to look into his brother's eyes, the ones that were far too similar to their father's. He felt pathetic.

"You're not."

Dean returned his gaze to meet Sam's. There was hurt now, and it was Sam's turn to look away

"Huh?"

"Pathetic. You're not."

Dean's ears burned. He hadn't realized he'd said that aloud and cursed his body's betrayal.

"Sam-"

"No. I know I said that. I remember saying that, back at the asylum. I called you pathetic and pointed a gun at your head."

"You didn't-"

"Maybe not. Maybe not. But man, I swear I can still feel that pistol in my hand," Sam laughed, mirthlessly. Dean stared, not sure what to expect next.

Sam sat back from his squatting pose and rubbed his forehead, digging his brows together and squeezing his eyes closed.

"Ellicott may have been messing with my head, but that doesn't change the fact that it was my finger on the trigger. I remember," Sam exhaled, "everything. Every word I said to you."

"Stop. Sam, stop."

"Don't. Don't try to protect me from this, don't try to tell me it's okay." Sam's voice was stern, unrelenting. Hard. "I can feel the way you've been holding your breath around me, putting up these walls. I hurt you, Dean."

"You- "

"I hurt you."

Dean sighed, waiting to see if Sam was done.

"Look at me, Sam."

The youngest Winchester was looking off at the bridge, jaw clenched, throat jumping. He quickly tilted his head and swallowed but didn't turn.

"Sam."

Reluctantly, Sam met his brother's eyes. Tears were gathering and Sam wished his hair was longer and would hide his vulnerability. He knew Dean could see through him, could feel Dean's eternal steadiness that he had come to rely on since they were young.

"It wasn't you. Don't argue with me, just listen. You didn't shoot me, you didn't say those things. You were practically possessed, Sam. Even so, you were right. Or I guess, he was right. And that's why I've been…" He trailed off, not sure what he'd been or how to word it. Sam's expression was bewildered, not believing that Dean was agreeing with the insults hurled at him by Ellicott.

"We're no closer to finding Dad. We've been on the road for weeks, and nothing. And I know that's eating you up inside, man."

Sam looked away and raised his hand to his mouth, biting his fingernail.

"And I know I order you around. Treat you like a little kid. Because to me… I can't…" Dean sighed. "You're still my kid brother. What can I say? And yeah, maybe being shot by someone who looked an awful lot like my kid brother was something I had to get over. But I got over it."

Sam slowly looked to him, eyes searching. Seeing if he meant it.

"I got over it. Because someone who looked an awful lot like my kid brother just saved my ass."

Dean coughed and dropped his head back against the car. His ribs rattled and rubbed together painfully, and the taste of the river was deep in the back of his throat.

"You look like shit," said Sam, the subtle jab a clear attempt at diffusing the situation. It was an olive branch, and Dean was grateful.

"That's funny. 'Cause I feel like shit."

"Dude. Kermit made you his bitch."

Dean shot him a dangerous look, but the mischievous glint in Sam's eyes felt like a punch to the gut. It reminded him of a Sam from so many years ago, of a night under the stars.

He snorted a laugh, and before long the snort became a full laugh. Sam shook his head and laughed too, wondering how long it had been since they'd had this.

"Alright Big Bird, help me up. Let's get out of here."

"Big Bird wasn't even a Muppet. You must've hit your head pretty hard."

"He was on Sesame Street. Close enough."

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :-)