Wow, I'm so surprised and pleased that people actually like this idea! I've got three requests already, and I am totally going to work through them all - beginning with a request from 'itsmunia', who asked: "Can you please write some Dean and Sam's brotherly moments? I am missing it so much this season... Like Dean is sick and hurting for his Mark of Cain and Sam started to worry about it... he tries to talk about it with Dean but Dean doesn't want to and but Sam takes care of him and talks to him anyways and Dean tries not to take Sams help"

Yes, yes, I certainly can! Ugh, I've missed the brothers this season too, trust me, I will gladly write a nice brotherly story about Sam looking after Dean. If Dean's not going to be protective any more then I guess Sam'll have to take that role...! So here we go, first request story, I hope it goes well and you like it. Thanks for the request :)

Season: Nine **spoilers up to episode 9x18**

Characters/Themes: Sam, Dean; hurt/comfort, family, Mark of Cain

Request: from 'itsumunia' - "i have a request..can u please write some Dean and Sam's brotherly moments?i am missing it so much this season.. Like Dean is sick and hurting for his mark of cain and Sam started to worry about it..he tries to talk about it with dean but dean doesnt want to and but Sam takes care of him and talk to him anyways and dean tried not to take sams help and like this.."

Dean yawned as he walked into the Bunker's kitchen, rubbing his unshaven face with one hand, trying to scrub away the tiredness that was plaguing him. It was like staying afloat on thick water; if he didn't try hard enough to swim then he would drown. And he didn't even want to know what awaited him in his dreams these days.

Fortunately, Sam wasn't present in the room yet; Dean glanced at his watch and read that it was only 6am. Of course his sleep-wise brother wasn't up yet. Any sane person without an itching mark on their arm wouldn't be awake and eating breakfast yet.

Though thinking of eating... Dean wrinkled his nose, not really enjoying the idea of having to pour cereal into a bowl, get a spoon and chew it until it was all gone, like some toddler. Instead, he just sighed and reached for a mug to pour some instant coffee from their coffee maker, once it was hot, into.

Caffeine was one of the few things that kept him going these days. Food and sleep seemed like a waste of time, and hell if Sam cared. Well, maybe he did, maybe he didn't - Dean wasn't meant to care about that either, was he? They were partners now, after all...

Shaking his head to get rid of thoughts about his brother and their unhappy recent ordeals, Dean was surprised to feel dizzy, stumbling slightly and taking hold of the counter to steady himself. After a minute, the moment passed, though he was left with an inkling that it was going to happen again, stronger.

With a sigh, Dean walked over to the table, slumping down in a chair and warming both hands around his mug of coffee. He didn't really have time for such unsteadiness; there was Abaddon to find, and the freaking angel to locate and kick his ass for what he did to them. 'That angel' being Gadreel, of course. Fricking angels. Still screwing with them after all these years.

Tiredness was still fresh in his mind, so Dean barely felt it when his head started to nod, because maybe just this once he could cope with the devils that cackled in his dreams, and told him stories of Cain and Abel, and how the time would come when one will have to slaughter the other for survival...

No. No, he couldn't let that happen. With that one certain thought, Dean immediately brought his head back up and took a sip of coffee. He couldn't dream, he couldn't drift. He had to stay focused.

"Bed not comfortable?"

Dean looked up, startled. Sam stood in the doorway, almost filling it. He was watching the elder hunter with shielded concern, but after years of knowing his brother, it was easy to read right past the disguises.

Sam was worried. Most probably about him.

It wasn't amusing at all, but Dean almost let out a humorless laugh. He didn't want Sam to be worried about him. He was fine; he could deal with this. There was a mark on his arm, yes, but it was there so he could kill Abaddon and every other demon he came across, including Crowley. That was a good thing. Hell, that was the greatest thing they'd had in a long time.

As his brother hadn't replied to Sam's unspoken are you okay?, he slowly walked into the room, watching Dean with more open concern. Turning to get a bowl out, he heard Dean finally reply from behind him, "uh, yeah, just... I'm not tired."

Sam straightened up, giving Dean a look that said exactly what he thought of that excuse. Not tired? His brother was barely sitting straight, almost unable to open his eyes after every blink. Of course the stubborn son of a bitch was tired. He was exhausted. But was he going to sleep? No; not for the things that awaited him in his dreams.

Hesitating, Sam suddenly wondered whether to join his brother at the table for breakfast, or just leave him be. Dean quickly answered that one for him by standing up to leave, but then he stumbled and caught the edge of the table to stop falling back in his seat.

Instincts automatically kicking in, Sam put down the bowl he had just picked up and took a step towards his brother, to support him, before one look at Dean's face stopped him short.

Dean was a cross between surprised and irritated at Sam's reaction, before it merged into completely annoyed. He didn't want help, dammit, and definitely not from his not-brother. Also ignoring the slightly hurt look on Sam's face, Dean walked as steadily as possible to the door of the kitchen, leaving before he or Sam said anything else that they might regret.

He went into the map-room and dropped into a chair, holding back a groan at the pains in his body.

In truth, his arm itched just below the Mark, his head ached from alcohol and exhaustion and there were pains burning through his body. It didn't seem like there was anywhere that didn't hurt like hell. Actually, fire reminded him of hell...

Blinking hard to rid that thought, Dean sighed and brought a hand up to rub his eyes, feeling more tired than ever. He slowly put his head down on his crossed arms on the table, and closed his eyes against the pain. He'd just rest for a minute.

Sensing a presence behind him, Dean tensed, ready to spring. He heard someone sigh, and then a cool hand briefly on the back of his neck. Dean almost frowned. That was familiar - kind of like home.

Wait, what? Dean opened his eyes and immediately realised he was still at the Bunker's table, and apparently he had fallen asleep, because time had definitely past. And as for the presence behind him -

A plate with a solitary sandwich sitting on it was put down near to him on the table, and Dean frowned for a second before twisting around in his chair to see Sam standing over him, watching him with a mixed look of pity and concern.

Dean was about to ask what was it with the creepy staring - or perhaps about the more pressing matter of the sandwich, he hadn't decided yet - when Sam said, as though dealing with a toddler who throws a tantrum and refuses to eat, "have you eaten at all recently?"

Blinking, still confused from his unplanned sleep, at his brother, Dean was about to answer yeah, of course, when he realised that... no, he really hadn't. In fact, he could barely remember the last time he had really eaten.

Anyway, didn't this picture feel familiar? One Winchester at the table, the other trying to make them eat and watch over them.

Before Dean could connect it to another, warm, memory, Sam sighed again and muttered, "I'll take that as a no then."

Thinking back, Dean should of asked what exactly Sam was taking as a 'no', as he was sure he hadn't done anything negative. He hadn't said anything at all in fact. Maybe that was why actually.

But at the moment, he had more pressing matters - even more pressing than the sandwich - to deal with. Such as why he went to sleep and now it was lunch time and he was so confused he couldn't think straight. Come to think of it, he was kind of hot too. Wasn't that something bad? Maybe he should...

He was snapped out of his train of broken thoughts by Sam saying sharply, "Dean."

Dean blinked up at his brother again, in an unspoken what?

Sam, instead of sighing in exasperation this time, frowned slightly in concern. Dean didn't seem to be tracking what he was saying, which wasn't good. When Sam had briefly tested his temperature, while he was asleep, it was rather too hot. Burning with fever and tiredness and vengeance wasn't a good recipe.

"Look, why don't you go to bed?" Sam suggested, more gently than anything before.

That caught a reaction.

Dean sat up straighter and glanced away before looking back at Sam, this time focused. "I'm fine," he said in a wary voice, eyeing his brother as though Sam might decide to use force to get him there this time.

But Sam knew he had no chance, so he just sighed again, watching Dean turn away, dismissing him, to pull some files towards him and look in them. Downcast, Sam walked around the other side of the table - not opposite Dean, but at the end - and sat down too, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye as he pulled some files towards him as well.

Dean ignored the sandwich, automatically pushing it away, and showed no weakness apart from a brief frown and rub at his fevered forehead. Sam just watched, wanting to help but knowing it was useless. That hadn't stopped him before, but things were different now. They always were.

But as long as Dean was going to refuse his help, or talk about the Mark or, really, anything, to Sam, then the little brother was just going to have to watch over his soldier until he fell. And then Sam would be there to catch him.