Dean had taken the liberty to go out and get a meal while Sam was in the shower, his stomach's rumbling having driven him to do so. The twenty-six year old had written a quick note, standing it up on the television. The guns had been cleaned within five minutes, the block between Dean's shoulder blades not as wide as before. Upon returning 'home' the Winchester had found Sam on the laptop, the computer screen lighting up his face. The illumination made Dean stop a moment, eyes stuck on Sam's features. God did Sam look tired and ill. Forcing himself to move, Dean placed the food on the table, sitting across from his brother. "Sorry I left without saying anything. I was hungry. I got something for you though, figuring that it is almost four now. Plus, having-uh-our little watch this morning, we didn't get to have lunch, nor a good breakfast." The need for Dean to explain his methods was something that was spurred out of nowhere, the act completely wasted when Sam did not even look up from his computer screen.
"I'm not hungry, thanks." Sam informed quietly, a click of the mouse emitting as he went onto a link.
Dropping the packaged food onto the keys, Dean braced himself on the table's top. "You are eating something Sam. You need something in your system." Sitting back down, Dean opened up his MacDonald's cheese burger and took a bite. He ignored Sam's stare, closing the conversation. Silently, Dean let out a breath when the Sam began eating his own meal.
For the rest of the early dinner, there was no noise except for the sound of yelling in the next room over or occasional smack of an object hitting the floor of the room above. Glances were passed, mostly from Dean. When Sam got up and threw his hardly-eaten meal away, Dean closed his eyes in defeat, not even looking when Sam made a dumb excuse of needing some air and left. Inside, he fought the instinct to run after the boy and strangle Sam for not opening up. His brother's pain was his own, since the day he was put in Dean's arms by their dear old Dad. With a feral yell, Dean stood up and slammed his fist into the table, the object collapsing in itself. "Shit!" The laptop was still on the table, which Dean totally forgot about. Scrambling, he checked it over to make sure the hardware was fine. Only if we could be machines, oh wait, the Winchester's are the closest God damn thing to it! Dean grumbled silently. Placing the laptop down gently, Dean climbed into the bed and turned on the television, occasionally looking at the door as if expecting Sam to enter.
An hour had gone by, leaving an extremely anxious Dean pacing the hotel room like a caged up tiger. Lighting flashed, the television flickering briefly along with the dim overhead light. Crappy motel room. The howls outside the vibrating window announced an oncoming storm, the normal sun which had shown beautifully that morning just one phase of the nightmare that had taken hold of the Winchester's lives. Taking out his cell, Dean called Sam for the fifth time, finding the same voice of the answering machine blaring in his ear. Throwing the phone onto the bed, the twenty-six year old threw his hands in the air. "Come ON Sam! Pick up the phone!" Dean could barely contain his rage, situations playing in his head. The yellow-eyed demon could have got to him or hell, a mugger could have caught Sam unawares at the moment. Coming to a halt, Dean glared at the windows. He couldn't wait for Sam any longer. It was sit here and die of a panic attack or go out and fetch the perplexed or possibley injured, younger brother. Sam won the vote. "The things I do for you, Sammy." Muttering, Dean threw on a coat and grabbed the knob, yanking the door open. His eyes met Sam's in shock.
For moments, the two just stood, the thunder drowning out all other noise. Tearing his gaze from the younger Winchester's orbs, Dean assessed Sam's condition. The blue sweat jacket and slightly ripped jeans were soaked straight through, the color darker when wet. Rain had also caused Sam's hair to deflate, sticking to his forehead and neck. Water dripped from the youth's limp fingers at his sides.
"Where the fuck have you been?!" Dean just about yelled in Sam's face.
The youth's brows furrowed, pale face frowning. "I checked out the library to find some info on a case." He answered in an emotionless tone.
Dean almost flipped, brain trying to comprehend what his little brother had just said. He barely even noticed Sam slipping by him and shutting the bathroom door. It seemed to be his heaven of late. Unable to understand why on Earth the youth would be thinking about the hunt now, Dean just shook his head, closing his eyes tiredly. The boy needed to grieve, and not hold it back. How Dean was going to get Sam do to so was a feat inside itself. Closing the door, he walked over to the wooden door, listening for sobbing. His brows furrowed when he heard none. "Sam?" He shouted, titling his head down so he could hear better.
A beat went by before Sam replied, "Yea?"
"You okay in there?" Dean stuttered, clearing his throat. Here he was begging for a chick flick moment just to ease his brother's pain yet he had trouble just asking the simple question.
Another long beat passed. "I'm fine, Dean…Just go…."
Dean almost didn't catch the last couple of words, the water shielding them from him. Reluctantly, the Winchester pulled away, finding his own limbs becoming weak. He would wait until the guy got out of the shower before breaking the flood gates. With a breath, Dean sat on the edge of the bed farthest from the door.
Sam could feel his brother's concern even though he was in a different room, the mirror once again showing him a different man as he stared at it. With a small sigh, Sam closed his eyes a tear escaping, followed by three more before the youth hastily whipped them away. Accepting what he did would only make his heart crack even further. Though Sam could not hide behind his own mask, at least he could try to forget and move on. Why is that so fuck'en hard! Dean can do it so can you! Dad would be unable to look at you if he saw you. God he missed him too.
Turning on the sink, the Winchester washed his face, enjoying the cool sensation on his burning lids. With a resounding breath, he composed himself, feeling his exhaustion waning with each beat in his head. The pulsing throb threatened to knock him off his feet. "Just go to bed." The voice sounded too young to Sam, portraying his true nature at the moment. Ignoring Dean, Sam exited the bathroom, now in a clean pair of boxers and a white tee-shirt. Seeing that his usual bed was taken, he chose the other, pulling back the covers. The pair of green eyes burned into his back, probably noticing Sam's unsteady legs as he climbed into bed.
"You have to talk." Dean called out in the silence.
Sam ignored him, keeping his back facing him as he shuffled slightly under the covers. Despite his best efforts, another drop rolled across his nose and down his other cheek. The tear's journey ended as it soaked into the sheets, forming a increasing circle. Closing his eyes, Sam kept silent.
Sighing, Dean walked over and eased himself onto the side of the bed, a hand reaching out slowly. Green eyes took in the somewhat shaky inhales and exhales of air that lifted the lump within the bed. With pure self-hatred, he pulled his hand back, running it over his face. Chick-flick moments were not Dean's cup of tea. "You will have to tell me sometime about your feelings dude, because if you don't, just like before, they'll turn you into a walking time bomb." Getting up, the Winchester went to his own bed and hunkered down, stripping to just a pair of boxer-shorts. With one last morbid glance at his 'sleeping' brother, he slipped under the covers and turned off the light. Though it was early in the night, he felt tired enough to sleep a month. Worry did that to the human mind and body, draining it of its essence.
Hours later, lighting still blazed outside the window sill, bathing the room in white for seconds. Soft whimpers came from the youngest youth, sweat beating from his brow and streaming downward like the sorrowful tears that Sam had shed already. The twenty three year old's cries became louder as time went on, building along with the thunderous crashes outside the room. Wind tore at the trees, bending them and mimicking the images assaulting Sam's mind.
"Why didn't you save me?" She accused in a voice that was eerie and echoed off the walls. Blood continued to rain down from her slit stomach.
"Jess.." Sam breathed, eyes wet with unshed tears.
"Why couldn't you find a cure for me Sammy? Why couldn't you save me either?"
Sam tore his gaze from his first girlfriend, eyes glued to Madison. A bullet hole marred her beautiful face, blood leaking down her nose and into her slightly parted lips…
It only took a short time for Dean to awake to the moans leaving his brother's mouth. Instinct drove him to the other bed as if he was twelve and Sam eight. When the youth was little, nightmares had plagued him and he often needed Dean to calm him afterwards. Dean found himself using the skills he had kept hidden behind his mask of bravery. Noting Sam's moving body, he carefully approached, grabbing his shoulder. At that precise moment, the Winchester jerked awake, ripping from Dean's grip.
"Easy Sam, it's just me." He whispered, his hand settling once more on Sam's shoulder. He could feel the vibrations, the soft sobs the younger sibling was trying to keep hidden barely heard. They tore at Dean's soul, his hold tightening on Sam's shoulder. "A nightmare?" There was no reply, though the answer was obvious none the less. "Sam? Come on bud, look at me please." His tone was caring and gentle as he climbed in next to his brother. Dean braced one arm on the pillow, fingers cupping Sam's chin and turning his face towards him.
Tears flowed from the corner of each brown eye and onto Dean's hand, the youth's faced flushed with heat, nose running. Dark circles underneath collected drops in small puddles.
Brushing the tears away, Dean closing his eyes in pity. "God Sam."
At his exclamation, Sam began to weep harder from both shame and emotional pain.
Dean couldn't take it anymore. Who cares if he was a baby for being a little girly? Not him. Letting go of his brother's face, he snuck an arm underneath Sam's side, a hand going beneath his shoulder. With some effort, he lifted the Winchester into his embrace. Sam clung to him, elbows bent and hands balled into fist against his chest. His hot gasps of air were felt on Dean's neck, cheek pressed against Sam's moist one. "I got you Sammy."
For a half an hour, Sam sobbed, his head support by Dean's hand, his body laying between the older man's legs. Dean's cold palm pressed against his forehead, thumb rubbing up and down in a soothing motion that matched his coaxing voice. Body lax, Sam felt his burden easing with each sniffle. "I killed her…I killed her and I loved her…" He choked, digging his nose deeper into the crook of Dean's neck.
"I know bro, I know." Dean coincided, rocking the broken Winchester.
"Jessica died because of me…now Madison..." Swallowing, Sam shook his head violently. "Everyone dies!"
"Whoa Sam." Cranking his neck backwards, Dean tried to look Sam in the eye, finding it a hard task as the boy burrowed further. "Jessica's death wasn't your fault and neither was Madison's. She didn't want to be a monster." Dean told him firmly, taking hold of Sam's cheek. With hesitance, the younger youth turned into the touch, locking his gaze on Dean. Dean knew Sam yearned for him to make it alright. "And I'm not going anywhere, understand?" Staring into Sam's eyes, he tried to find signs of comprehension and belief in his words.
Reluctantly, Sam bobbed his head, overlapping Dean's hand with his own and giving it a squeeze. The confirmation brought a smile to Dean's lips, causing Sam to softly grin as well.
"How about we get some shut eye? Huh? I'm dog tired." Some of the humor leaked into his questions, finding the cloud above him dissipating with the ease of Sam's weeping. Seeing anxiety starting to build up in Sam's eyes, Dean widened his smirk, easing his brother down on the bed. "Try not to hit me though, alright?" Pulling the covers over the Winchester, Dean winked before slipping under the sheets beside the now relaxed youth. As Sam turned over, the twenty-six year old snuggled up next to him, throwing an arm around Sam's waist and pulling his back alongside his chest.
Tension quickly left Sam's body, the comforting touch, blocking the nightmares that threatened to take over once more. "Sleep Sammy. I'll be right here." A voice breathed into his ear, Sam's eyes closing in command.
Morning sunshine blinded Dean through his lids, causing him to groan in resistance as he slowly awoke. A warm body pressed against him comfortingly. Smiling to himself, he opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the bright rays of light that came through the window. "Damn cheap shades." He sighed, Sam stirring next to him. Flashing teeth, Dean sat up, tilting his head at his barely awake brother. "Don't want to wake up Sammy boy?" He teased, chuckling. The good feeling that ran through his veins promoted the mockery.
"Morning already?" Sam retorted with a hoarse voice. Swinging his legs over the bed, he rubbed his eyes. Embarrassment caused his head to droop suddenly. "I'm sorry about yesterday…and this…" He apologized quietly, not meeting Dean's surprised look.
"Sorry? Sam, don't have to make an apology for it. You should have talked to me sooner. Then you would have avoided that whole situation last night." Stretching, Dean stood, walking towards the bathroom. "Why don't you make your butt useful and get us some breakfast while I get myself all handsome for the ladies?" His voice carried from the bathroom before the door shut.
Licking his lips, Sam laughed, running a hand through the mop of hair on his head. Maybe Dean would live, breaking the pattern that seemed to follow Sam. Walking to the window, Sam took in the scenery of the hotel parking lot and sparse trees in the planters. Soon…they would be in Hollywood, solves the mystery of a haunted set. Sam hadn't briefed Dean yet, but he knew he would be right along side him anyway.
After all, they were Winchesters and Winchesters always go in headstrong….