Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.
Warnings: Merlin: semi-future!fic
Spoilers: None.
Setting: SPN: General Season 1
A/N: OK, so tentative plan: updating once a week, preferably on Monday. I'm not going to stake my soul on fulfilling this plan 100% of the time, but I'll give it a go. Feel free to PM me if I'm late. It'll probably get me writing.
When Dean finally arrived back at the motel (Connor's Diner had the best burgers ever), the door was wide open and papers on their current case were scattered haphazardly about the floor.
He panicked.
"Sam? Sam!"
Desperately scoping the whole room for sasquatch-little-brother, he was about to hit full-on freak-out mode when a shaking, curled-up mass in the corner caught the edge of his eye.
How the hell did he manage to cram himself into that corner?
Dean circled around the bed and immediately knelt beside him. God, the kid was trembling.
"Sam," he said softly, "Sam."
Sam finally lifted his head, wide green eyes filled with a lost expression and burgeoning tears.
"Arthur - Dean...the Battle of Camlann. Mordred...you died - I couldn't save…" The trembling increased with alarming intensity.
"Sam." Dean put every ounce possible of emphasis into the word. When Sam failed to respond, Dean clasped his face between both hands. "I'm here. Alive. Not dead, not goin' anywhere."
Sam stared at him for a moment, face expressionless, but the shaking steadily slowed.
"Figures you would start a chick flick when you remembered. You always were a girl, Samantha."
"Clotpole," Sam muttered.
"Idiot."
"Prat."
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
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