Thanks for the reviews guys. I love hearing your feedback. This is my first long story about the boys, and i like knowing what you think. The flashbacks will eventually taper off, but i kind of like having them in between like this, which is why i didn't start the story way back there first.

Enjoy. :)

Ch. 4

Four and a half months ago. Somewhere in the mountains in Tennessee.

They haven't left the small mountain house that Dean stopped at when running from the leviathans. Dean's hoping it's insignificant enough that it'll be left alone. Sam's doing better. After Dean found him some books to read, Sam does that a lot now. While Dean's out making sure the impala wasn't damaged by the last storm, or bothered by the wildlife, Sam sits by and reads. When Dean's making dinner, Sam sits on the counter next to him like the first day he teased him again, or at the table close by, and reads.

Sam isn't ever very far away. And Dean doesn't mind. It's just them out here after all. The company is nice. He's given up talking to fill the silence. He likes it now. Companionship at its purest, he thinks in 'girly' terms. Just him and Sam sitting in the same room is alright with him now. No need to talk. Very often, anyway. They have the radio on a lot.

But it's more than that. He feels content with the knowledge that Sam is near him. Where he can see him. Safe. And Sam wants to be near him too. Maybe it keeps him from freaking out. Keeps him grounded or something. Dean doesn't care. They've never gotten along so well before. He feels almost domesticated when he thinks about how much he cooks with their provisions from the basement and how much they lounge around since there isn't much to do anyway.

He also finds himself drawn towards Sam more often. Going out of his way to make contact. He knows Sam doesn't mean to do it, but he's training Dean. To take care of him the way he is now. He needs touch every once in a while. To keep himself in the present. Keep his mind from wandering to where it's dangerous. He's teaching Dean to reach out and touch him randomly throughout the day.

Dean doesn't realize it until he finds himself laying on the couch with his feet in Sam's lap, Sam's book resting on the previously mentioned feet. They haven't sat like this since Sam was sixteen, studying for a test while Dean watched TV and did his best to distract him, as an older brother should, by wiggling his feet. He does so now, grinning when Sam looks over and sends his patented 'bitch face' his way. He grins.

Sam almost smiles in reply. Almost. The affection is seen in his eyes anyway.

Dean takes that as a win.

It became so integrated into himself after that, he found himself reaching out during the day. And sometimes it wasn't just to ground Sam. It was to ground himself. A hand on the arm. Knees resting together. Fingers playing with the ends of Sam's insanely long hair when his arm was on the back of the couch. It just became a natural occurrence. Sam needed someone to keep him grounded. Dean was only too glad to be able to be that person.

Sam only mentions it once. After driving out to a clearing miles away from where they're staying to do what they used to. Sit on the hood of the impala and stare at the sky. They sit so close they're touching from shoulder to foot. Sam doesn't look at him as he murmurs, "Thanks." Then gets another drink of his soda. He stays away from beer. It makes the confusion worse.

"No problem Sammy." He doesn't need to ask what he's thanking him for. Never needs to ask about much anymore. They've never been as attuned to each other as they are now. They go back home when the sun starts to rise. Sam's healing keeps going. Dean finds little things to help him out. One thing he vows to keep doing is what he thinks of after waking Sam up from a nightmare one night.

"Sorry for waking you," Sam murmurs miserably.

"No need to be sorry, bro." They lay awake until the room starts getting lighter.

"Sometimes I hate being here another day."

Dean's breath stops with the quiet admission. "Don't say that, Sam."

"I feel like I'm just falling apart. I can't sleep without nightmares anymore, I get visions of hell, even if I don't see Lucifer sitting around anywhere or hear him talk outside of the memories. I lose sense of reality. It's a struggle even to remember the answers to things I used to know." It's the most Sam's talked in a long time.

Dean holds Sam tighter, scared of the thought of losing him. The only thing keeping him from being alone on this earth. The only person he's never been able to live without. Even if he had a hundred people around him, without Sam he'd still be alone. "You'll get through this. Soon you'll be back to your normal self. You'll be a freak again, but without the hell memories haunting you."

Sam snorts softly.

Dean grins to himself. "Every day is a new question. Even I don't know the answer all the time. But you will find the answer. Okay?"

It's quiet for a second. Then, "Okay. Thanks Dean."

Dean lets a small smile form on his face.

The first day the old Sam resurfaces again after the housewife jibe, it's the guilty side of Sam. The side that always finds a way to bring up something that makes him feel guilty and have to talk about it before he lets it go. Dean's unwrapping his leg to test it out as they sit on the porch when Sam looks over to him and murmurs, "I'm sorry."

Dean immediately drops what he's doing and looks to Sam with a serious glare. "No. We are not getting into that. Especially since we both know that there isn't any way this is your fault. You were out. Like, 'I thought you were dying' out. It's fine."

"'M still sorry." He shrugs.

Dean glares. "Well don't be. Now help me up sasquatch." He pushes Sam up from the porch steps, grabbing onto his arm after he's standing to pull himself up. As Sam puts a hand to his shoulder to steady him, he takes a breath. It's been four weeks. His leg should be healed by now. He hasn't touched it to the ground since the third day he had it wrapped. A stupid step down to reach for something. It hurt enough to keep him from doing it since.

"You wanna wait a few more days?" Sam's voice is softly concerned.

"No. I'm fine." He puts is foot down in defiance, slowly putting weight on it. There's a twinge, but nothing he can't handle. He nods to himself. "It'll be fine." He takes a step, wincing.

Sam hasn't let go of his arm. "Maybe you should keep it wrapped. Give it some help to stay stable."

Dean thinks about it. "Maybe. It'd be smart, huh?"

Sam nods. "Double breaks aren't good."

Dean snorts. "You're telling me." He turns to limp the two steps to the stairs. He lets out a breath as he lowers himself to sit. He's silent for a minute. "I really got messed up this time, Sammy."

Sam frowns in worry at the sound of defeat in Dean's voice. "No." He sits next to him. "You'll heal and be back to normal in no time. You'll see."

Dean looks at the ground. "The leviathans are still out there. And the two best hunters are crippled."

Sam's face falls. "Don't give up." His voice cracks on the last word.

Dean looks up in alarm.

Sam shakes his head. "Don't give up, Dean. I need you… I need you to not give up. It's the only thing keeping me from giving up too. Okay? Every day is a question, right? You always tell me I'll find the answer. You have to believe it too, Dean. We both need to believe that if we're going to keep from giving up."

Dean looks down at his leg. Then nods. "You got it."

Sam lets out a breath. "Okay." He reaches out to take the wrapping that has held Dean's leg together for the past weeks. He carefully maneuvers Dean's leg out straight and goes to work. He's silent until he's done, then looks up at Dean, a hand still on his leg. "I won't give up if you won't. Deal?"

Dean looks at him, smiling softly. "Alright. Deal."

Sam smiles back. "Okay." He stands, helping Dean to his feet and walking him into the house. "Use the crutches for another week."

"Aw, c'mon!"

"Dean…"

A sigh. "I hate you."

"'Course you do."

"I really do."

"Dinner?"

"Make it yourself, bitch."

Sam sighs. "What do you want for dinner?"

Dean looks up at him as he sits on the couch. "Have fun with it." He's actually interested to see Sam's cooking skills. It's very rare that they ever cooked anything big for themselves back then. And since things changed, only Dean has cooked.

Sam rolls his eyes. "No complaining."

Dean shrugs. "You've never complained about my cooking. I won't complain about yours." The smile he gets in return makes his little second of being nice worth it.

The electric goes out two days later. From the TV, the movement of the leviathans across the continent is tracked until the cable goes out right before the electric. They're taking over everything that needs to be monitored like dams and waste plants so the world doesn't blow up. But they're taking over. Cities are being destroyed. Dean's actually glad the power goes out. He's tired of seeing that look on Sam's face as he sees the world as they know it disappearing.

They make a fireplace in the living room and one in their bedroom, using rocks and dirt around the house, even making a chimney for each so they don't die of smoke inhalation. Sam scowled when Dean joked about that. Their food supply is also practically gone. Dean starts to wonder whether to take Sam with him when he gets more down in the town, or to leave him here. He decides to ask Sam what he'll be more comfortable with.

"Hey. We need food."

Sam stiffens in his chair. Then lowers the book he's reading. Dean thinks it's the last one of those too. "I know."

"You gonna be alright coming with me?"

Sam sighs, setting the book on the table. "Honestly? I don't know. But we need to find out. I'm tired of not being sure of myself."

Dean nods. "Okay. We'll go tomorrow. Bright and early."

Sam nods, and that's that. The house is silent until they get into bed that night. They still don't talk much, not really needing to, but Sam looks to Dean when he lays down. "I know you hate when I ask these questions, so I'll be fair and only ask once. Do you ever get tired of having to take care of me? Not even being able to sleep by yourself anymore? Losing sleep because of me?"

Dean rolls to his side, propping his head on his hand with a sigh. "And I'll only answer this once," he says softly. "I don't mind. I really don't. You're my brother, Sam. I've always taken care of you. And I don't mind sharing a bed. Better being here to make the nightmares go away rather than having to get out of another bed or room to walk over here. You lose sleep over nightmares, I lose it to pull you out of them. I honestly have the better deal here."

Sam nods once, looking up at Dean. "Okay."

One side of Dean's mouth quirks up. "Go to sleep, Francis." He lays down, not turning away just for the sake of Sam not thinking he's pulling a wall up. He feels the room colder than before, noticing their fire is a little low. He doesn't feel like getting out of bed. He scoots more under the covers, and the slightest bit closer to Sam. "Besides," he mutters, "you're warm."

Sam's low chuckle sounds as close to genuinely happy and relaxed as Dean has heard him in a very long time.