This chapter kinda got away from me...so sowwy about the length of it ^^;

Also...SUPER sorry that this hasn't been updated in AGES...these past few weeks were killing me and I had no motivation to write more :( But I'll try to keep this story going!

This ep takes place between the season 1 eps "Scarecrow" and "Faith"

Supernatural: Eric Kripke! :D

Dean awoke in the middle of the night with a full bladder and knew that he really needed to get to the bathroom or risk soiling the bedclothes. So, as gingerly as he could so he wouldn't awaken Sam or Clare, he pushed back the blanket and sheet and swung his legs over the edge. He sat there, waiting for a few seconds to determine if he could hold it enough to stand and head into the bathroom down the hall. Once he was sure, he stood up.

Following the knowledge of remembering the layout of the room due to his and Sam's excessive stays at Bobby's, he knew the room like the back of his hand and was able to make it to the door in just a few quiet strides. He opened the door and slipped out into the hall. Dean then turned left, using his right hand to feel his way down. He had earlier counted the number of steps it took to reach the bathroom so he knew which doorway to enter. Sure enough, once he felt the porcelain sink, he knew he was in the right room and he shut the door to do his business.

Meanwhile, Sam awoke, feeling the absence of his big brother. He quickly sat up and looked around frantically.

"Dean?" he called, then rolled his eyes at his stupidity of forgetting about Dean being deaf. He got out of bed and strode towards the door. Clare was awoken by him exiting and immediately jumped up to follow him.

Sam's heart pounded in worry as he continued down the hallway, noticing a light coming out from under one of the doorways. It was the bathroom. Sam stopped outside of it, Clare coming up behind him and rubbing her side against his leg and letting out a small mew.

It was obvious that she was worried too. Sam had no idea how long Dean had been in there or if he was in trouble. He knew he was overreacting, but he tended to do so when the one person in his life that truly mattered to him was extremely vulnerable and prone to danger. He didn't want to take any chances.

Knowing it was futile to knock and that he was about to seriously impose on Dean's dignity and probably scar himself for life, he twisted the knob, relieved to find it unlocked, and opened it to reveal his perfectly healthy big brother standing at the sink, washing his hands, humming happily to himself, a smile on his face, and a sparkle in his opaque eyes. Sam was at a loss for words, unsure of why Dean was feeling this happy at such an hour. Clare meowed and jumped up onto the edge of the sink, sitting down and rubbing her head against Dean's arm. Dean froze, the smile disappearing for a second as he determined what was, but soon reappearing as he stroked Clare's cheek with his finger. The feline couldn't care less if his hands were still soaking wet. She just meowed again and leaned into the touch, pausing now and then to lap up the drips of water from Dean's fingertips.

Dean chuckled as he felt the soft yet sandpaper-like texture of her tongue.

"What's the matter, sweetie? Couldn't sleep either?" Dean chuckled. He turned off the tap, grabbed the hand towel and dried off his hands. Sam decided to make his presence known then by reaching out and tapping Dean's shoulder as he moved forward. Dean gasped and jumped back, startled. He leaned on the sink with one hand as he place the other over his palpitating heart.

"Dammit! Nice job giving me a heart attack, Sam!" he growled.

"Sorry," Sam said while gently tapping his brother's hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just, don't do that. I had no idea you were there." Dean seemed to contemplate what he just said and his face darkened. He lowered his head and ambled past Sam and out into the hallway, following the wall back to their room.

Sam hastily ran after him, now determined to get his brother out of his funk. Once he got to the doorway, he saw that Dean was just sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor with a distant look. Sam sat down next to him but before he could ask him if he was okay, Dean spoke, but in a low, whisper-like tone. Sam had to lean in a bit to catch what he said, and what he heard made his eyes widen in shock.

"Sammy, I'm not sure if I can go on like this,"

"Dean, what the Hell are you talking about?" Sam asked, tapping on his shoulder. "You've been handling this very well so far! Why are you just now saying this? Did you hit your head harder than I thought?"

Out of subconsciousness, Sam eased away the bandage on Dean's forehead and was relieved to see that the wound was healing up nicely. He felt another wave of nausea flood through him as he once again recollected on the fear of just how close Dean came to a severe injury. But he quickly swallowed it down. It was his turn to be the caring, protective brother, and he had to be strong.

Dean never showed weakness, at least not when Sam was around. He was always the protector and the one who was always there when Sam was down. And even though Dean was blind and deaf, he would still be able to sense his little brother's angst. It was some sort of weird psychic connection the brothers had that allowed one to feel when the other was in distress or in danger.

Dean never quite understood it, but he knew that without that connection, he'd lose the only thing that kept him from losing his only remaining family member that he truly cared about. And now with him being blind and deaf, his worry about that connection being severed was raised a few more notches. Anything could happen to his family and he wouldn't have a clue. He had done a nice job at playing charades for the past few days, making his family believe that he was handling things well. But in reality, he was ready to freak out. He wasn't sure if he could deal with his disabilities any longer than he had to.

Dean realized that he had been lost in his thoughts for a while now, because when he came back to reality, he felt Sam repeatedly tapping his shoulder frantically. It was quite obvious that he was worried. He then felt something small, warm, and furry climbing onto his lap. Two paws pressed against his chest as he felt two more balancing on his thighs. He huffed out a laugh and began stroking Clare's back, liking the fact that her little bottom rose as he petted over that area.

"Dean?" he felt Sam tap on his shoulder.

Dean sighed and figured he should start talking as to not worry his baby brother any longer.

"I'm fine, Sammy," he grumbled, pushing away Sam's other hand from his forehead.

Sam scoffed, glad Dean couldn't hear him.

"And don't scoff at me."

Okay, maybe Dean wasn't as clueless as he pretended to be.

"Sorry."

Another bout of awkward silence fell upon the room. The only sounds to be heard was Clare's purring as Dean continued to stroke her back, the crickets outside chirping, and the occasional cough or snore from either Bobby or John downstairs.

After a while, Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, racking his thoughts together. But before he could speak, Sam beat him to it and paid close attention to the message Sam was tapping out on his shoulder.

"What do you mean you can't go on like this?"

Dean turned his head so to where he hoped Sam was facing.

"You, Dad, and Bobby should be out there chasing this bitch down and then going after the Yellow-Eyed bastard. Instead you're wasting time looking after my sorry ass. In fact, it's my own damn fault we're in this mess. I was foolish to get nabbed by the first damn witch in the first place and now another one is after us all. I wish she would've just killed me. It would've saved you guys the trouble."

"Dean," Sam gasped, stunned at how low of an opinion Dean had of himself.

"What?" Dean scoffed, shrugging. "It's true! We just get out of that Godforsaken town with the crazy lunatics and their damn scarecrow only to wind up screwed to Hell yet again, all because of my recklessness and stupidity."

"Dean!" Sam harshly smacked his brother's shoulder to get him to stop rambling on about such nonsense. "Stop saying idiotic stuff like that! You are not stupid! Reckless, sure, but not stupid!"

"Gee, thanks Sammy," Dean rolled his eyes. Sam did the same thing and shook his head.

"I mean it, Dean. Dad already said he'd do anything and everything to help you. You will get your eyes and ears back! And you're doing perfectly fine without them at the moment. Other than the equilibrium, I'd say you're perfectly normal…or as normal as you can be." Sam added as a small joke.

He smiled as a grin found its way onto Dean's face. The older hunter shoved his shoulder gently, causing Sam to rock to the side and back, purposely bumping back into Dean, knocking him down on his side on the mattress.

"Oh, that's it, princess, you're dead!" Dean growled in mock anger, but the smile on his face gave him away as he pounced at Sam.

Sam quickly moved out of the way and grinned as Dean landed on the bed instead. Dean smiled and stood up, standing in a fighting stance, Sam mirroring him. Sam was confident that he'd have the unfair advantage, knowing it was wrong for him to think that he'd win due to Dean's predicament, but the older hunter didn't seem to mind as he launched a well-aimed kick towards Sam's torso. But Sam effectively blocked it and knocked him back onto the mattress. But Dean was fast. Before Sam knew it, he was trapped in a head lock as his big brother used his free hand to give him a playful noogie while Sam grasped his arm and tried to pry him off, smiling and laughing. Clare meowed and leaped to safety on top of the nearby nightstand and watched as the brothers behaved like children, a deep fondness in her golden eyes.

Sam laughed as he fought to gain control. He and Dean used to play wrestle a lot when they were younger. It had helped them keep in tip-top shape and prepare for any surprise attacks, so they'd know how to get out of a hustle. And it had worked well many times. Sam managed to get out of the headlock and shoved Dean down onto his stomach, pinning both arms to his back, holding Dean's legs down by wrapping his own around them, and sitting on his back, effectively immobilizing him, but being careful as to not to hurt him too much. Dean's face was mushed against the pillow.

"Ungh! Good one, little brother!" Dean grunted, attempting to squirm away, but Sam had him good. He felt proud. He had been the one who taught Sam this move, after all.

"I learned from the best, big brother," Sam released one arm to pat Dean's head.

Bad move. Now Dean was able to grab hold of the same arm and somehow twist out of Sam's hold-who knew he was that flexible- then get one of his legs free and use it to push himself up as he brought Sam down onto the mattress, proceeding to hold him in the exact same position he had just been in moments before.

"Hah!" Dean cheered triumphantly. Even blind and deaf, he still managed to kick his brother's ass.

"Truce!" Sam's words were muffled by the pillow. But it didn't matter anyways, Dean wouldn't hear them anyways, and he felt a pang of guilt for forgetting that.

But Dean's big brother instincts told him that Sam was giving up, letting him win yet again. He jumped off of his brother and sat down beside him and Sam recomposed himself and sat next to him, panting as if he'd ran a mile. He noticed Dean was doing the same thing. A sheen of sweat coated his face and neck.

"You okay?" Sam tapped Dean's arm gently, fixing him with worried puppy eyes.

Dean looked up at him and just smiled, his opaque gaze fixated on where he knew his little brother's face was. "Yeah..." he gasped between breaths. "It's….just….it's been….awhile….since we…..sparred….like that."

Sam laughed and silently agreed with him. It had been a long time. Nine months to be exact, but the last time he sparred with Dean, it had really been a shape-shifter, so it didn't really count. No, the last true time had been when Dean had broken into his and Jess' apartment, right before Dean had dropped the bombshell that their father was missing and he needed help searching for him. Since then, they'd been too busy doing just that to have a good sparring session,

Sam was happy he was able to practice once again with his big brother. It made him feel a lot closer. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Sam immediately jumped up to stand protectively in front of his brother to shield him from whatever harm dared to impose on them. His tense form relaxed as he recognized their bedraggled father who had just came through the doorway, wielding a Bowie knife in one hand and a sawed-off in the other. Sam had to laugh upon seeing John's disheveled hair and remnants of sleep in his eyes, which were wide with alertness.

"Sam?" John questioned, taking a glance around the room cautiously.

"Morning to you too, Dad," Sam chuckled. He then sat back down to let his worried brother know what was going on. Sam must have told him about their father's epic entrance and appearance because the next moment, Dean was on his back laughing.

John relaxed, seeing no harm to his boys and lowered his weapons and smiled. "Damn, it, boys. Do you have any idea what time it is? I woke up to what sounded like a stampede of elephants rampaging up here. What the hell happened?"

"Sorry, Dad," Sam replied soon after Dean stopped laughing. He was still chuckling, but managed to get himself back under control. "Dean and I were just sparring."

John fixed them both with an incredulous look. "Sparring? At this hour? Why?"

"Yeah, that was my fault. I just started to playfully shove him and things sort of escalated from there."

John shook his head, but Sam saw a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Well, next time you feel like duking it out, wait till tomorrow at least."

Sam smirked. "But, Dad. It is tomorrow."

John looked up at him and chuckled. "Smart ass, you know what I mean. Anyways, now that I know you two knuckleheads are safe, I'm going back to bed. I'm surprised Bobby hasn't been awoken by the ruckus."

Sam shook his head. "Night, Dad." He then told Dean that John was about to leave so Dean bid him good-night as well.

John gave his sons one last look and a warm smile before shutting the door and returning downstairs, where he slept on the couch. Dean then yawned wide.

"Right, bedtime, big-brother," Sam said as he gently helped Dean back under the covers of his bed. He laid him down and made sure his pillows were fluffed and prepped.

"You gonna read me a bedtime story, too, Bitch?" Dean smirked as Sam pulled the covers up to his chin.

"Yeah right, Jerk. In your dreams." Sam replied fondly. He watched as Clare jumped down from the nightstand and lay back down beside Dean. He smiled as he saw his big brother wrap an arm around her tiny body.

Dean yawned again and turned onto his side, his back facing Sam as he allowed the grasps of slumber to overtake him. "Ni', S'mmy,"

"Good-night Dean,"

Sam then turned out the light and crawled back into his own bed, joining his sibling in Dreamverse.

Outside the window, a lone raven with electric-blue eyes that glistened and glowed in the dark night cawed loudly before taking flight.

I just had to throw in some sort of sweet and brotherly moment 83 Read and review pweeze!