Kevin awoke to something he'd never heard before: a soft-spoken Dean Winchester.

"-evin, Kev, c'mon, bud," Dean coaxed and Kevin felt a soft pressure along the crown of his head. He tilted, the pressure moved and startled, he recoiled like a frightened animal.

Dean's hand. It was just Dean's hand.

"Dean." Kevin looked around, gathering his bearings. He was lying on a soft leather couch, Dean seated in front of him on an expensive-looking coffee table. The place smelled good, a bit musty but good - cozy. It was warm. The room was… elegant.

Kevin blinked. The contrast seeing Dean Winchester seated comfortably in this environment was surreal. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Where are we?"

"Men of Letters bunker," Dean supplied. He didn't want to overwhelm the kid so he figured he'd just sit back and answer Kevin's questions, give him the space to put himself back together.

It was strange, Kevin thought. Normally Dean just barked orders and demands, grumbled obscenities and frustrations over Kevin's inability to comprehend things.

Kevin wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth though. He squinted at the high vaulted ceiling above. A beautiful chandelier hung over him reflecting warm yellow light.

"Uh," Kevin grunted, "you guys been holding out on me," he mumbled.

"Sorry," Dean murmured, smirking. He winced with sympathy and leaned closer to Kevin as he came around. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I think. What happened?" Kevin asked, slowly rising. He looked past Dean and spotted Sam for the first time, seated in an armchair farther away paying close attention. He hadn't spoken yet though.

"Cas zapped you out from Crowley's hands and landed you here to recoup," Dean said, succinct as ever. Kevin nodded vaguely, then shook his head in disbelief. "Do you remember any of it, Kevin?"

"Uh," Kevin stalled, rubbing a hand over his face, then shook his head and shrugged, "not much."

"Well," Dean said, leaning back to sit up straight. He swiveled to get Sam in his eye line, "that can only be a good thing, right?"

Sam looked at Dean and shrugged in consternated agreement. Dean turned towards Kevin again and leaned over to grab something that'd been laid out on the arm of the couch. Kevin rubbed his eyes, still foggy, but no he was seeing right: it was a stack of clothes Dean was offering to him.

"We looked around to find anything that might fit you. S'not much but you might want a shower, change of clothes," Dean trailed off. Kevin looked down at his jeans, black t-shirt, lightweight khaki jacket. All of it had been stained with blood and dirt and... whatever else. Kevin didn't want to think about it.

Shocky, he looked back up at Dean who added softly, "maybe a shave," as he gestured comically to his face. Kevin didn't laugh. He just nodded and took the clothes.

"Thanks."

Dean smiled as he passed the clothes off and again Kevin felt like pressing 'pause' on this wildly uncharacteristic behavior.

Dean's smile had been kind… even sympathetic.

Kevin got out of the bathroom feeling better than he had in a long time. He walked back out into the study wearing a gray robe he'd found among the selection given to him. Dean had been balancing on only the two back legs of his chair. When glanced over at Kevin, he let go and accidentally slammed the chair down to the floor.

"Please tell me you're wearing something under that," Dean begged urgently. Kevin stopped, deer in headlights, then looked down at the robe. That was enough of an answer for Dean.

"That... That's my robe," he said weakly, then grumbled, "Damn it, Sam" to himself because Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"Sorry," Kevin replied, uncertain.

Dean blew out some air and waved at Kevin, dismissing the apology. He went back to his book as Kevin approached.

"Where's Sam?" He asked hesitantly, sitting across from Dean. Dean sighed lightly and looked at Kevin.

"Went down for a nap."

Kevin couldn't help but smile, incredulous. "Really? Sam takes naps?"

Dean's expression met Kevin's with no matching humor. "He does now."

The serious tone of Dean's voice tipped Kevin off that he didn't know the whole story.

"What do you mean?"

Dean took a moment to really consider whether he was going to lay it all out for Kevin. Kevin could see the wheels turning, the cost benefit analysis of telling him. Kevin didn't begrudge it. In fact, this was so understandable that Kevin remained quiet and patient.

Finally Dean sat up straighter and looked him in the eye.

"Sam's sick, Kevin."

Kevin's brows furrowed but he nodded. "Okay." Dean stared at him. "I mean he looked fine to me before, but okay."

"Right now he can't talk and that's his only symptom but more will come."

"How do you know?"

Dean sighed again and put his hands in the air in lazy defeat.

"Because it's the trials. Until he finishes the third, he'll be suffering. He's almost died a couple times..." Dean trailed off, unwilling or perhaps unable to keep going.

Kevin thought about it and nodded.

"So... that's what you guys have been doing all this time? Making sure Sam's okay?" He ventured. He wasn't judgmental, just curious.

"Basically," Dean replied, tracing the edge of the table with his finger. He looked at Kevin, an entirely new expression on his face. Like he was going to ask Kevin something nearly insurmountable. Kevin was surprised to be caught in it.

"You up for helping me out? I mean, with Sam."

"Yeah, of course!" Kevin replied instantly.

Dean pursed his lips together and nodded, kind of wary. It felt to Kevin like he was coming to the conclusion that he could trust him though and Kevin, despite himself, felt honored.

"Okay then," Dean said, less heavy now. "I just have a couple favors to ask." Dean leaned forward over the table, closer to Kevin. Kevin did the same. "First priority, we have to figure out the third trial."

"That's a given," Kevin remarked dismissively.

"It may be a given but it's the very first priority, do you understand?" Dean didn't waver. Kevin swallowed and nodded, eyes locked on Dean's.

"Yeah."

"Okay good. Second priority?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you to go on a couple of errands."

Kevin wasn't completely on board with going out to restock food and supplies. He hadn't been out in the real world for ages, he'd been tortured and manipulated by Crowley. Quite frankly, he was scared. Of, well, everything.

Dean talked him around though. He gave him an amulet they'd found in the bunker that would hide his presence when he didn't want to be seen. He even let Kevin drive the Impala which was a new one on him.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done to Dean?" Kevin had asked and Dean gave a small huff of laughter before warning him not to joke about shit like that.

But weirdly he just continued to be nice.

Dean basically gave him the day off after running errands "because Sam was fine and you need the rest." Kevin had just blinked dumbly at Dean, stunned the man had noticed much less cared enough to give him a break.

So despite his fears, Kevin pulled himself together and went to the local mom 'n pop grocery store a couple of miles away. It turned out to be oddly therapeutic, feeling like a normal person walking around picking up such mundane items on a list with Dean's all-capitals and Sam's loopier and shakier handwriting on it.

That sentiment continued into late afternoon as he got familiar with the bunker's kitchen trying to put the foodstuffs in the right locations. Grief struck him with a sharp blow, remembering how he'd always help his mom put away the groceries whenever she'd come home with them.

His thoughts, increasingly sorrowful by the moment, were interrupted by Sam walking in with his laptop. Kevin glanced and stopped to muffle his laughter at the sight of him.

Sam was wearing a hoodie and a pair of light blue boxers. Kevin had never seen either of the brothers in anything other than about four layers. It was off-putting to witness the forever guilt-ridden and troubled Sam Winchester in boxers, the angry self-righteous Dean Winchester in light tees and sweatpants.

"Hey Sam," he greeted hesitantly. Oblivious, Sam walked to the kitchen table. "Um, can you hear me?" Dean hadn't mentioned whether or not Sam could hear. He'd just said Sam couldn't speak.

Sam rubbed sleep out of his eyes and nodded absently as he set his computer down. He sighed tiredly as he sat down. Kevin just watched, not sure what to do. Sam was still waking from his nap so... So Kevin would just resume unpacking.

Finished, Kevin couldn't help his own curiosity. Sam seemed a little more awake too now, clicking away on the laptop.

"So, is it a... psychological thing?" Kevin asked. Sam typed a couple more times and finally put his hands down between his knees, looking up at Kevin. This huge, powerful, tall guy suddenly seemed small and drained and it struck Kevin as wrong. Sam shrugged, an open expression on his face. He didn't know if it was a psychological thing?

"Huh," Kevin nodded awkwardly, not really wanting to press it. Sam turned back to his computer and started typing again. Kevin noticed a bag of groceries he'd forgotten and threw packages of chilled ground beef and sausages into the freezer, chiding himself for letting the cold meat get kinda warm.

Suddenly a computer's electronic voice sounded off loudly in the kitchen, making Kevin jump. "What do you want to make for dinner?"

Kevin turned around to find Sam grinning at him. Kevin returned the smile. Sam had figured out a way to speak after all.

Kevin wondered if Dean knew.

"Hey, where's Dean?"

Sam gestured towards their rooms then put his hands together against his tilted head. Kevin nodded. Dean had told him he was more or less on the same sleeping schedule as Sam so it made sense.

"So, dinner?" The computer asked. Kevin looked at Sam and shrugged.

"Sandwiches?"

Sam made a face, clearly displeased, then turned to the laptop to type.

"How about stir fry?" The computer's voice echoed through the kitchen chrome acoustics.

"Yeah sure," Kevin smiled, thinking about the ingredients and knowing they had pretty much anything Sam would want. Sam smiled again and gave a thumbs up.

Ten minutes later they were at the kitchen table chopping vegetables in preparation. Sam was of course silent but focused. Kevin could see he was going slowly with the knife and followed suit. The last thing anyone needed was an accident right now.

In the middle of chopping, Kevin figured it was as good a time as any to float his thoughts, maybe have some kind of friendly exchange. "So, um, Sam. Can I ask you something?"

Sam continued chopping the mushrooms but he gave an unmistakable nod.

"When did Dean become a Care Bear?" Kevin asked, laughing slightly at the last word.

Sam didn't look up. He just huffed, smiling, as he continued to chop.

"Seriously though. The last time I saw him he was... intense. Giving me meds, telling me to power through everything. Now it's like he's not even the same person..." Kevin trailed off as Sam sighed and stopped cutting.

Sam scrutinized the prophet then turned to his computer.

"What do you think he's like now?" Sam asked using the laptop's electronics. Kevin bit his lip, not sure if he was getting baited but Sam's honest curiosity convinced him it was fine. He shrugged.

"I don't know. He's like, nicer. He gave me the day off of doing any research even."

Sam quirked his eyebrow.

"I know, right? It's... He's different."

Sam sighed again and shrugged. He turned to his computer and started typing out a long answer, choosing his words carefully. When he finished, he didn't let the computer speak for him; he just turned the laptop around so Kevin could read it.

"It's always been a facade. Dean's a good person. More than that, he grew up taking care of people. He's rough only as a defense mechanism. Lately we've had to deal with stuff that's been tearing it down. For awhile now he's been working in a different mode. It's extended to his behavior with you."

Kevin read and reread Sam's answer, then looked up. Sam gave him a wan smile, another shrug, and went back to chopping.

"What's... been tearing it down?" Kevin asked tentatively. Sam raised his eyebrows and casually gestured to himself. "Yeah... I, um, I heard you almost died?"

Sam stopped chopping like Kevin hit a nerve but before he could backtrack Sam resumed.

"You seem great now though," Kevin said immediately, injecting as much cheer into it as possible. Sam cast him a weary look and turned to type into the computer.

"Let's hope it lasts."

Kevin looked up from the monitor to find Sam giving him a sad expression. It was clear Sam thought of this as a temporary reprieve. Kevin didn't really know how to respond. He let the silence linger for longer than he probably should have. Finally, he spoke up.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice small and guilty for having brought it up at all.

Sam finished the mushrooms just then and huffed. He shook his head, amused, and reached for the laptop to type something in.

"Now who's the Care Bear?" The computer announced in a strange monotone. Kevin chuckled as he watched Sam add something to the message. "I'm totally telling him you called him that by the way."

Kevin's reaction made Sam actually choke out vocal laughter.

"No, Sam! Don't, please!" Kevin begged. Sam shook his head, grinning widely, and teasingly pointed at Kevin.

Sam unhooked the wok hanging on the wall and within minutes the stir fry was sizzling quietly. Kevin was at the table now playing on the computer while Sam handled the wok expertly. The delicious mix of ingredients and spices exuded an aroma that would probably travel and Kevin had said as much, adding that Dean would probably wake up for it. Sam smiled and nodded. He took a second to lean over Kevin to type out "we should add bacon for him."

Kevin agreed wholeheartedly and pulled some out to fry on the second stove top.

The stir fry was measuring up to expectations in every way, almost perfectly cooked; the first round of bacon had been flipped repeatedly, nearly ready. Kevin was still at the table and expecting Sam to turn to him and ask him to go get Dean. In fact, he was about to offer when the wok clattered on the stovetop over the flame.

"Sam?" Kevin asked, then jumped up from his seat when he saw Sam frantically turning the burners off. The bacon and stir-fry's pleasant crackling sounds began to simmer down.

"Sam what's wrong?" Kevin asked nervously, coming up beside him. Sam was holding his hand as it flexed itself in and out of a fist.

"Sam?" Kevin repeated more firmly this time. Sam jerked to look at him. With his working hand Sam reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a piece of paper. He gave it to Kevin.

Confused about Sam having pre-written notes in his pocket, he opened it.

In Sam's loopy, shaky handwriting were three simple words all in capital letters that made Kevin's blood run cold: GET DEAN NOW.

A/N: Originally published 4/10/2014, revised 8/13/2019.

Thank you so much for reading - I love you guys! Please comment/review if you can spare the time! xoxo