Disclaimer: The characters of "Supernatural" were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made

Note to Readers: As always thanks again for the reviews and PM's that you send me. My time lately has been getting bogged down but I want to try to update every weekend for you. This chapter is shorter than I wanted but I wanted to get something out, so I've made a little tweak and the next chapter will be longer and will be part 2 of this chapter. I hope you enjoy this one and sorry for the semi-cliffhanger. Happy Reading, I hope!

Side Note: The title of this chapter comes from the poet Pablo Neruda.

Our Solemn Hour

By Dawn Nyberg

Chapter 7: Clenched Soul, part 1

"There's no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard no song that I could sing … It's not always easy and sometimes life can be deceiving, I'll tell you one thing it's always better when we're together …" ~ lyrics excerpt by Jack Johnson, Better Together

The Cabin, at Dusk

The wailing continued to echo and Dean held on to his little brother as his masks and guarded walls fell away, "I'm here," he whispered into his brother's ear trying to make him hear him above the wailing. "Sammy, I'm here."

Dean held Sam long after his back was cramping from the odd position he kept while holding his brother. Dusk was fast becoming night and he noticed that Sam's sobs had quieted and had left the younger man trembling in his big brother's embrace. "Sammy?" Dean leaned forward and talked quietly into his little brother's ear. "Think you're up for inside kiddo? I think the mosquitos will have us for dinner if we don't," Dean tried to sound light. He felt Sam nod ever so slightly against his chest but he said nothing. "Okay, on three," he counted and pulled Sam up with him. Sam was trembling and looked pale in the dim early evening light. Dean put an arm around his brother's shoulders and one around his waist supporting him and keeping him pulled against his side to try and ease the tremors that shook his younger sibling. "You're doin' good Sammy," he encouraged. "Just lean on me little brother." Sam said nothing but stayed with Dean and allowed him to support him on the short walk back to the cabin.

Dean deposited Sam on the couch and went to get a blanket from the bureau by the TV. When he turned around Sam had curled onto his side, his legs slightly pulled up. He looked so vulnerable and it made Dean ache. He walked over to his brother as he slung the throw blanket over a shoulder. "Hey, kiddo," he gently placed a hand on his brother's knee and felt the taut muscles, he squeezed the knee and moved Sam's leg back down and out of the curled position and did the next with the other leg, "no pretzel boy Sammy, your Sequoia legs aren't meant for that," he smiled gently and then lowered the blanket down over his brother. Sam's silence was deafening to Dean. He stood and looked down at his brother and with a soft sigh made a decision, "scoot a little down Sammy," Dean urged as he gently began to Badger butt into the space where Sam's head had been. He patted his jean clad thigh and without question Sam dropped his head using his big brother as a pillow.

Dean dropped a comforting hand onto Sam's head and absently pulled his little brother's bangs back and released. He kept the soothing repetitions up unto Sam's trembling slowed and stopped and his breathing eased into sleep. There was time to talk but Dean knew they were on shaky ground and if he wasn't careful his fragile brother would completely and utterly shatter. Sam whimpered in his sleep and Dean looked down, his hand resuming its repetitious soothing, "I'm here Sammy, you're safe," he said quietly and the whimpering stopped and Dean watched Sam's troubled brow ease. "That's my boy," his voice filled with big brother pride and love.

Sunrise, the next day

A soft ray of early morning sun fell on Dean and he squinted. He didn't even remember falling asleep. He felt the weight of Sam's head still on his thigh and looked down at his brother who was still sleeping, thankfully peaceful. He had been there to head off the start of any nightmare the previous night and was happy to see that Sam had slept through the night without a single breakout night terror and he didn't need any pills either. Sam stirred and tilted his head up and looked at his brother. "Mornin' sunshine," Dean offered with a smile. "How about some scrambled eggs and bacon," he offered lightly. Sam nodded. Dean's mouth thinned for the briefest of moments at Sam's silence but he was willing to eat so that was good enough for Dean, at least for now.

Breakfast had been a quiet affair and Sam went to stand and walk his plate over to the sink and Dean reached across the table and put his hand on Sam's forearm. "Sammy?"

"I'm okay Dean," Sam answered softly. It was the first words he had spoken since before his breakdown the previous night.

"Try again kiddo," Dean leveled an understanding gaze on his brother.

"No nightmares last night, well none that I can remember," Sam's voice was still quiet.

"I just headed them off at the pass Sammy … look last night was a step in a good direction but you need to talk to me and if not me someone …" he offered. Sam shot him a look, his eyes wide.

"What? See a shrink, no way in hell," and Sam cringed at his choice of words. Dean squeezed his forearm.

"Sammy, last night just proves you need to talk about it, you need it off your chest, okay?"

Sam pulled his arm out of his brother's grasp and stood up, "Last night was a mistake. It won't happen again," Sam shut down before Dean's eyes and he saw anger there again.

"No, no way are you clamming up again. What? You want to throw some more punches, if it'll make you feel better go ahead, but you're talking." Sam struck so fast that Dean never even saw it coming. The attack was surgical and quick and his world went into blackness a second later.

Sam looked down at his unconscious brother and the blood on his knuckles from the vicious blow. "Dean?" Sam's voice choked but he didn't move just stared. There was no answer from Dean. No movement either and Sam started to shake. He knelt and pressed shaky fingers to his brother's neck and felt a strong pulse beneath them, just unconscious. Sam tried to remember the strike, the feeling before but there was nothing. It had come out of him so quickly, he was lethal … dangerous to those he loved. "I'm sorry," he choked, his voice wet with unshed tears. His eyes welled but the tears didn't fall. "I'm dangerous," he whispered.

Dean came to and stared at the ceiling, he was still on the floor. He blinked at the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. He felt the heat of the sun on his skin. This wasn't early morning sun. He sat up slowly and rubbed his jaw and fingered dried blood on his lower lip. "Sammy," he called out and looked around. "Sammy, answer me!" he struggled to stand and was glad that once he was on his feet that the room stayed in one place. "Sam!" there was no answer. He did a sweep of the small cabin and found no trace of Sam and it made his heart slam against his sternum.

Then the site of something or rather the lack of something made his heart plunge to his feet, the large Bowie knife was missing from its leather sheath and for Dean a missing weapon and a missing, distraught and very screwed up little brother did not equate to a good situation.

He tore outside the door and scanned the area, no Sam and Dean forced himself to calm down in order to track his brother. He felt the pressure of the situation and knew he had to find Sam and quick. He stopped and called out for Castiel but when the angel didn't arrive within a minute he figured he was on his own. He needed to find his little brother.

"Sammy?" he called out as he followed the traces that led toward the way his brother had fled into the dense woods.

To Be Continued