Don't get me wrong, the bunker was great.
It had a kitchen.
It was full of some pretty awesome toys.
There was a whole library full of books that allowed Sam to get his geek on whenever he pleased.
It was a secure, safe place for me and my little brother to live, and maybe someday, we would call it home.
The one and only issue I had with the bunker, was that Sammy and I had separate rooms.
I was psyched to get my own room, and glad that my brother could finally acquire some of the privacy he had always complained about not having.
It was all great. Except when your kid brother just got back from a trip to hell and was being plagued with nightmares.
I left my door open, and I knew that Sam did the same, but it just wasn't enough. I couldn't hear his breathing patterns from so far away, I couldn't tell if he was tossing, turning, or sweating the way he always did when in distress. I knew that once the nightmare got bad I would be able to hear him, the startled cry would travel down the hall, but by then the kid would already be in a full on panic.
When it came to my little brother's nightmares, I preferred to nip them in the bud, which was not possible when I couldn't hear a damn thing that was going on.
So instead I just laid in my bed and tried to pretend that I had some chance at falling asleep.
I reminded myself that when we arrived at the bunker just a short while ago, Sam had insisted he was fine, that he was just going to head to bed, and that I should do the same.
Although I tried, I couldn't deny how exhausted I was feeling, Sam's trip to hell, followed by his nightmares - plus all the driving I had been doing lately - had worn me out. So when I watched my brother wander into his room and heard the springs creak as he laid down on the bed, I had no objection in doing the same.
Unfortunately, sleep didn't come nearly as easily as I thought it would. It was difficult to rest when I couldn't stop worrying about Sam and what nightmares he may or may not have been having.
I was restlessly rolling around on the mattress until I heard noise out in the hall. Due to my extremely alert state, I could easily track Sam by listening to the sounds he was making. I heard his bed squeak as he raised off of it, the creak of his door as he opened it all the way, and the shuffle of his sock-clad feet as he moved down the hall. The noise of a chair dragging across the floor told me that the kid ended up in the library.
So it wasn't a simple trip to the bathroom, I concluded.
I was debating about whether or not to join my little brother, when the sound of coughing travelled down the hall and immediately made my decision for me.
I climbed out of bed, cringing at the harsh, wet, hacking I heard coming from the young man.
Bypassing the library, I headed straight to the kitchen, filling a glass full of water before making my way to Sam, who was still hunched over coughing into a napkin.
"Here." I said, placing the cup in front of him and dropping into the chair across the table as I waited for the kid to finish.
Sam hacked for longer than I was okay with. I was about to get out of my chair and start pounding on his back when it finally tapered off. A shaky hand reached out, thin fingers wrapping around the glass as my brother brought it to his mouth and took a long gulp.
"Better?" I asked, after he had returned the cup to the table.
"Yeah." He replied, his rasp doing nothing to ease my concern.
"You're getting worst." I observed aloud.
Sam said nothing, but I knew that was just because he couldn't find a way to deny it.
"Why aren't you in bed?" I questioned casually, trying not to sound too authoritative, because I knew how Sammy hated that.
"Couldn't sleep." He replied with a shrug. "Did my coughing wake you up?" He enquired, glancing between me and the book opened up before him on the table.
"Oh please, I was up the second I heard you get out of bed."
Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, clearly not believing me, but that was okay. I was hardly going to explain that I had been laying awake worrying about him. There was no way I would ever willingly confess to such mother-like behaviour.
Sam switched his attention down to whatever it was he was reading, probably something related to figuring out the next trial. My little brother could have such a one-track mind and I knew that until the trials were complete, he would spend all of his time obsessing over them.
My gaze remained trained on the kid as he read. The shadows under his eyes were growing darker, and the pallor of his skin was becoming paler. I knew part of that had to do with the severe lack of sleep, but I also knew that it was not that simple. The trials were damaging my kid brother.
And it was all my fucking fault.
"Can I help you?" Sam asked, no doubt feeling uncomfortable under my analyzing stare.
"Yeah, either eat something, or get some sleep." I suggested, adding more after a moment's thought. "Or better yet, eat something and then go to sleep."
Sam sighed loudly in exasperation, as though I had just instructed him to clean every weapon in our arsenal.
"I'm not hungry and I-
"Don't you dare say that you aren't tired, because we both know that's bullshit." I interrupted.
"I was going to say that I can't sleep." Sam finished, looking at me with raised eyebrows, a moderately amused expression on his face.
"Nightmares?" I questioned softly.
Sam looked away, biting his bottom lip as he nodded his head distractedly.
I had figured as much.
I searched for something to say, something that would make this all easier for the kid.
"You want to talk about it?"
That wasn't it.
My simple inquiry had my brother instantly tensing up and adamantly shaking his head.
"I can handle it, Sam" I declared, staring right in to the hazel eyes currently evading my green ones.
He made no comment, he just shook his head a few more times in objection
"Dude, come on." I sighed, because the kid needed to sleep, and before he could do that he needed to talk. At that point I didn't care if we had the mother-of-all chick flick moments, just as long as Sam could get some peaceful rest.
"I can't." Sam said, not bothering to remove his gaze from the table top.
"You can, and you are going to have to, or else the dreams are just going to keep coming, kiddo." I informed him sympathetically.
The young man slumped across from me, remained silent.
"You don't have to tell me everything. Just something, anything." I pleaded, because I knew Sam needed to let it out, although - in all honesty - I was dreading to hear more stories from the cage. Any snippet of information I had gathered, and what Sammy had told me after he freaked out in the Impala just a few hours back...it was bad, really fucking bad. But my brother needed me to be strong, and he needed to talk about the horrors he had experienced, so I would listen without judgement, the same way he did for me after my return from hell all those years ago.
"You don't know what you're asking Dean." Sam ground out, glancing up at me, a warning on his face.
"Oh please Sam, I'm not some fragile little child. I've been to hell-
"I know." He interrupted, his voice rising. "And I'm not saying that what you went through wasn't bad Dean, because it was, it was awful...but the cage...it was different...it was..."
"Worse." I clarified as my brother faded off, because I already knew that much.
Sam seemed hesitant to agree, and if I knew my brother - which I damn well did - it was because he didn't want to minimize what I went through, he didn't want to dismiss my suffering.
The stupid kid, worried about me and my feelings, even when his own were in complete turmoil.
"You can say it Sam, you're not wrong."
The young man was chewing on his bottom lip, as he shrugged noncommittally.
"But just because you had it worse, doesn't mean you can't tell me about it." I stated, my tone calm as I watched my little brother's lips twitch into a fraction of a smile at the sound of my version of his name.
There was a long period of silence. I was on the verge of dropping the subject until another night; but then Sam spoke up, quietly, so much so I almost didn't hear him, but he spoke nonetheless.
"He never said it right."
"Said what?" I encouraged after another few seconds had passed.
"My name, the way you always say it. He would use it to taunt me, or mock me, I don't really know, sometimes I think he wanted to trick me into thinking it was you...because he'd use your voice."
My fists clenched at the new information, how dare that bastard use not only my nickname for the kid, but my voice to torture him. I wished more than anything I could take a trip down to the cage just so I could rip Lucifer up into a million fucking pieces.
I forced myself to shove down my rage, because my brother didn't need my anger, he needed me to listen.
"But it still wouldn't sound right. I could always tell. You just...you always say it different." Sam finished in a whisper, hazel eyes timidly peeking over at me.
"I'm the one and only Dean Winchester kiddo, no one else can duplicate this much awesomeness." I declared, sending my little brother a cocky wink.
"Stone number one, right?" Sam replied with half a smile.
"Damn straight, little brother." I stated confidently.
I sat, waiting to see if the young man would continue to speak, but it would seem that Sam had done all the sharing he planned to for now. I didn't push it, because even though the kid hadn't given me much, he gave me something. It was a step in the right direction.
My brother released a long drawn out yawn and scrubbed at his drooping eyes; he looked all of five years old whenever he did that and it always made the protective streak in me surge.
I stood abruptly and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
"Where you going?" Sam asked as I moved.
"To make you something to eat."
"Dean, I don't-
"I said sleep or eat, Sam. You going to bed?"
My brother indicated the negative with a shake of his head.
"Then food it is." I announced, exiting the library.
"Keep it simple!" I heard Sam holler from behind me.
I rolled my eyes, because it wasn't like I didn't know the kid, or the way he got when he was sick.
My scan of the kitchen gave me the conclusion that we were running low and I would need to make a food run soon. I decided on cereal, that gross kind Sam ate that was all seedy, grainy, flaky, and shitty. I poured what was left of the box into a small bowl, giving the milk a testing sniff before adding it in as well. I grabbed a spoon and made a mental note to pick up some juice on my grocery run, knowing Sam always wanted apple juice when he was a sick. I smiled fondly at the memory of of a young boy with unruly curly hair smiling up at me like I was some sort of hero for bringing him home a box of apple juice that I had lifted off a kid at school.
I snickered to my self, recalling how easy it had been to impress the little squirt. Bring him home a juice-box when he was sick and the kid looked at me like I had saved the world. Apparently some things never changed, just awhile ago Sam had labelled me a genius. Why the hell my little brother always believed in me I did not understand, but I would be lying if I said it didn't mean everything to me.
Now it was my turn to return the favour.
I had to stop seeing Sammy as my baby brother who always needed to be rescued and protected. He was a man now and the best damn person I knew. I had to start believing in him the same way he did in me. Sam needed to know I had faith in him if he was going to be able to finish the trials. My brother was going to save the world, and he needed me to back him up. So that was what I was going to do.
I nodded my head in agreement with myself as I made my way out of the kitchen.
"Alright Sam, I poured you a nice bowl of mulch. Seriously dude, I can't believe you eat this shit."
I waited for the defencive reply advertising the health benefits of this grainy cereal, but it never came. I entered the room, expecting to at least be given a bitch-face face for my derogatory comment, but I didn't get that either. Sam was too busy sleeping. His face was resting on top of the book he had been reading as he breathed deeply, the way he always did when he slept.
"I guess I should have seen this coming." I muttered to myself as I quietly placed the cereal on the table.
I sat across from the sleeping form, and glanced down at the material he had been looking over. I shook my head at the uselessness of it all. We needed Kevin to figure out what the next trial was, and I had no idea where the hell the kid had run off to.
I began sifting through the research that was not currently trapped underneath my little brother's hairy noggin.
I must have fallen asleep at one point, because I woke up with a colossal crick in my neck and a piece of paper stuck to my forehead.
I brought my face up off the table and rubbed my eyes clear, looking over at the young man across from me.
Sam was in the very same position I had last seen him in, except now he was shivering.
The sound of my brother's rapid breathing and the twitching about of his body told me exactly what had awoken me.
"Sammy." I instantly called out, reaching over the table top and resting a hand on his head.
He was warm, fever-warm, his hair damp with sweat as I combed it to the side.
"Sam wake up!" I called out as his shaking increased and he began to whimper.
I moved from my seat and went around the table, lifting my brother's face off of the surface and holding it between my hands.
"Come on man, front and centre." I commanded as I gently tapped his cheeks.
Still nothing.
"Sammy!" I hollered loudly.
My brother's eyes flew open, panic reigning over his expression as he pulled back and launched out of his chair.
"It's alright little brother, it's alright." I soothed, my hands up in surrender.
This wasn't like the other times though, Sam recognized me instantly, his wild eyes searching until I spoke and then finding me instantly.
"Dean." He gasped out between heaving breaths.
"Yeah buddy, it's just me. I'm right here."
Sam took an unsteady step toward me, his body shaking so hard I was afraid he would lose his balance.
I carefully approached the frightened young man, gently grasping him above the elbow to keep him steady. I was slow in my movements, not wanting to do anything to put my brother at any sort of further unease.
Sam's gaze kept searching his surroundings, but they always returned to meet mine, as though he was using me as his anchor, his stone number one.
"Deep slow breaths." I coached as he proceeded to pant in distress.
He nodded in response, making a conscious effort to gain control of his oxygen flow as his body continued to vibrate.
"Dean, I-I need-ed..." Sam faded off mid-stutter as he sucked in oxygen slow and deep.
"What is it? What do you need?" I asked, grabbing a hold of his other elbow as his knees buckled for a second, almost sending him to the ground.
"Wa-warm, need t-to get warm." My brother stated through chattering teeth as a violent shiver ran through his lanky body.
"Okay. We can do that buddy, don't worry. How about you just sit here and I'll go grab a blanket." I suggested, reaching out with my foot, linking it around the leg of the chair, and dragging it closer. I angled my brother in front of it and gently pushed him down into the seat.
Sam all but collapsed back into his chair, eyes trained on me as he sat shaking.
"Be right back." I promised, releasing my hold of Sam's elbows and turning to leave. Long fingers shot out and wrapped tightly, almost painfully, around my wrist.
I turned back around and looked over my kid brother.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
Two wide hazel eyes stared up at me, they were glazed in fear as Sam shook his head from side to side.
"D-don't le-leave." He whispered, clenching his jaw to try and stop the unintentional constant movement of his mouth.
"I'm just going to grab you a blanket, maybe make you some tea. I shouldn't be more than a few minutes." I explained patiently, trying to pull away, eager to get him warm.
But Sam wouldn't release my arm, his grip becoming impossibly tighter when I attempted to tug my wrist from his hold.
"I-I'll come." He declared with an affirming nod of his head as he pulled himself up.
"Sam, just sit I'll-
"Please, P-please Dean." Sam pleaded, his face turned to the floor, his embarrassment obvious as he avoided my gaze.
I knew that it must have been bad for my brother to be so blatantly clingy, for him to ignore the humiliation he was feeling and attach himself to me the way he used to when he was a kid.
"Sure buddy, come on." I complied, not failing to notice Sam's refusal to release my arm as we made our way down the hall.
My room was closest so I directed us there, my steadying hold on the unstable man at my side becoming tighter as he continued to shake from cold.
I pulled the blanket from my bed and immediately wrapped it around the taller man.
"Here you go kiddo." I said, bringing the corners together in front for him. Bony fingers held the blanket as Sam proceeded to shiver, his other hand still locked around my wrist.
I rested the back of my hand on his forehead, confused when I felt room temperature warmth.
He wasn't quite feverish and he wasn't chilled, so the shivering must have been coming from whatever the hell happened in that damn dream.
"Better?" I questioned.
Sam shrugged as he huddled deeper into the comforter.
That would be a no.
"What if I made you some of that girlie tea you like? Would that help?" I inquired, genuinely wondering if it would aid him in anyway.
Sam looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding his head just a fraction.
"Alright, let's go then."
My brother shuffled clumsily down the hall, his body lacking control as it proceeded to shake. His grip on my arm continued to squeeze tighter until I finally wriggled my hand free.
"Sorry dude, I think you're starting to cut off my circulation." I stated, regretting the joking sound of my tone when Sam's face coloured in shame as he let his arm drop to his side, looking like a child who had just been chastised, as he ducked into the blanket.
"It's alright Sam." I said with half a smile.
My brother nodded, but I noticed that his shivering was becoming more aggressive and his breathing was beginning to pick up.
"What's going on man? Talk to me." I demanded, stopping and turning to fully face the young man, who looked so young with his terrified expression.
"I uuh...I j-just...I n-need..." My brother faded off, his eyes darting around as his teeth chattered and he continuously clenched and unclenched his fist.
He needed me to ground him.
Sam may not have been hallucinating any more, but after his trip to hell and all the nightmares, there was no doubt the kid was struggling with fear and maintaining a firm sense of reality.
"Here, hold this." I instructed, placing my little brother's hand on the back of my shirt. Sam nodded gratefully and immediately latched onto the my clothing. I had an instant recollection of decades ago when a small, shaggy headed little boy would cling to the bottom of my shirt whenever he was scared or nervous. I smiled fondly at the memories.
"Good?"
"Yeah." Sam rasped as he followed my lead to the kitchen.
I wasn't going to lie, it felt good to be needed. Not that I wished this kind of torment on my little brother, ever, but it felt nice to have him clinging to me. Sam was strong and independent, he had been that way most of his life. Once he became a teenager, even when he needed me, he would pretend that he didn't. He became embarrassed when he required help or comfort, but that humiliation was always overruled whenever he was sick, hurt, or scared. And I was okay with that. Because I always knew how to take care of Sammy, and it was a hell of a lot easier to do my job when he wasn't pretending that he was fine.
"Sit." I ordered softly, upon our entrance into the kitchen.
It took him a moment, but my brother reluctantly released his hold of my shirt and sat at the table.
I immediately went over and put the water on, coming to take a seat beside Sam as we waited for it to boil.
He was examining the table top as he pulled the comforter tighter around his long body and continued to shiver.
"It was cold."
I stayed quiet, watching my little brother, knowing by his haunted tone of voice that I was about to receive another glimpse into life inside the cage.
"Always cold. Really cold, like freezing." Sam explained, his body vibrating in response to the thoughts in his head.
"But it wasn't the normal sort of cold, where your toes go numb and your skin is chilled. It was different."
Sam paused, chewing on his bottom lip, clenching his jaw to gain control of his chattering teeth.
"It wasn't just cold skin...it went deeper. It went inside. It was like everything inside of me turned into ice. And I could never get warm. Kinda like now." My brother whispered as his thin frame was wracked with another set of aggressive shivers.
"We'll get you warmed up soon, Sam." I promised.
My brother nodded, but I could tell by his distracted expression that he was still living the memories running through his mind.
I cursed myself and the fucking trials for putting Sam through all of this.
I hated that he was having to deal with memories of the cage all over again.
The sound of boiling water pulled me from my frustrated thoughts. I fixed my brother tea, it was honey lemon and to be honest it smelt pretty good. Not that I would ever drink that shit, but I wasn't totally uncomprehending as to the reasons why Sam bothered with it. I added as splash of milk and two drops of honey to the steaming beverage, before placing it down in front of my brother.
Sam startled, before wrapping his hands around the mug and breathing it in.
"You're supposed to drink it, Sam." I teased.
My brother smirked in response and took a small sip.
"It was always there...the cold." The young man continued after a few more swallows, his teeth no longer chattering and his shivers now much less intense.
"Even... even when I was left alone - when he got bored with me - even then, there was still the cold."
Sam paused to take another sip of the hot drink he had been staring into since he started speaking.
"I used to curl up and try to get warm...I gave that up after awhile. It never worked."
The young man chewed on his bottom, mauling something over in his mind before taking a breath and continuing.
"The uuhh...the pain...it was bad, but the cold...it made it worse somehow. You know?"
Two watery puppy-dog eyes stared over at me and I nodded in response. I didn't really know what he meant, Sam and I had very different experiences in hell, and his was a hundred times worse. But he needed me to understand, so that was what I would do.
"I got used to the pain...well...I got used to some of the pain, but I never got used to the cold. And...it sounds stupid, but it terrified me. I was afraid that I would never be warm again...that I would always feel frozen inside."
I didn't know what to say. There wasn't a whole lot to be said. So I sat there, silently supportive of my little brother as he allowed me small glances into a time he had tried so hard to forget.
"Even when - when there was fire. When he would burn me. When my whole body was literally on fire and my skin was blistering and burning off. I was still cold...on the inside." Sam choked out, swiping at his eyes as he cleared his throat and took another swallow of tea.
The graphic images that plagued my mind had me closing my eyes to compose myself. I needed to be calm for Sam. I didn't need him seeing the pain his memories were causing me.
"Now whenever I get cold, it's like I'm right back there. I'm back there freezing in that cage." He faded off and gave his head a shake, as though he could physically force the thoughts of his past from his mind.
I rested my hand on his arm for a moment, squeezing gently in support.
Sam sniffed and blinked away his tears, composing himself as he focused on his tea.
"Getting any better?" I questioned once the mug was nearly empty. The shivering had stopped, which was a good sign.
"Much." Sam responded simply.
"Good."
I was wasn't able to prevent a yawn from escaping my mouth.
"You should go to bed."
I rolled my eyes at the predictable response.
"You first." I quipped.
Sam sighed in exasperation, giving me that irritated expression he always did when he felt I was being unreasonable.
"You want to watch some TV?"
"I thought you wanted me to go to bed?" My brother questioned skeptically.
"Are you going to?"
He shook his head adamantly, not yet ready to expose himself to the recollections of his hell.
"I didn't think so. So how about we watch one of those lame documentaries you like so much."
Sam quirked a smile and nodded in agreement with the idea.
He kept the blanket wrapped around himself as he got to his feet, but he was much steadier now that shivering wasn't an issue.
"You wanna..." I faded off, but offered my arm, not sure if Sam was ready to go it alone just yet.
"I'm okay." The young man responded, dimples appearing on his face as he shyly glanced at me in appreciation.
I nodded, satisfied my brother was feeling more grounded and secure.
I lead us to Sam's room, hoping that if I got him laying on his bed watching television, maybe he would get some rest.
He was calm, but quiet; reflective and tired, but too stubborn and scared to go to sleep willingly. Sam was still huddled in the blanket off my bed, even though he was practically sweating, but I didn't bother him about it. Because I understood the power that the mind could have over the body.
I was around to ensure that Sam's memories didn't gain too much control, that they didn't trap him in the past.
I would protect my brother from everything.
Including his own mind.
Including these trials.
And even his nightmares.
Because protecting Sam was my job and it was the only thing that mattered.