Notes

Wake Up - Eden

For some reason my dividers weren't showing up in the first chapter. Hopefully I'll b more successful with this one. -sigh-

Please let me know what you think in a comment. Thank you

It's surprising how loud silence can be. He'd lived in the bunker for years now but he never noticed just how much ambient sound filled the cavernous rooms. The lights buzzed softly overhead. The machinery that powered the place thrummed. It wasn't a distracting sound. Just present—noticeable in the absence of his brother.

Sam sat at the first chair in the war room, looking up the stairs. Any moment now, Dean would appear at the top and all the noise in the room would disappear.

Dean had started his long drive from Pennsylvania late last night. While it was a twenty five hour drive, he knew that Dean would make it home closer to twenty hours and truth be told he couldn't wait to see his brother. It had only been a week and they talked on the phone everyday, but it felt like he'd forgotten what Dean looked like.

He could feel this low grade excitement humming below the surface of his skin. It mixed in with the vibrating exhaustion of his body. Anticipation at seeing his best friend again. He was almost giddy with it – although that could again be the exhaustion.

He looked at the book in front of him, barely noticing the words on the page. It was just there as a prop anyway so Dean wouldn't know that he was sitting there, waiting for him. He lost himself in his thoughts as he waited.

The familiar releasing of the locks jolted him into the present and his heart started to pound against his chest. That was kinda weird, he thought, but he didn't have the time to focus on it. At the top of the stairs he could see the door opening and there was Dean entering the room with a giant grin on his face.

"Hiya Sammy. Missed me?" he asked as he entered the room, before shuffling down each step in a casual run. Before Sam could even formulate an answer to that that wasn't half way embarrassing, Dean stopped in front of him, arms open. "Well? Where's my hug? I could have died out there you know."

Sam's heart squeezed a little as that echoed his earlier worries but he pushed it down forcibly. Dean was just joking.

He got up with a smile and stepped into his brother's embrace. "Welcome home Dean," he said as he closed his arms around him tightly, slapping him on the back to emphasize his words.

He felt Dean's arms closed around him just as tightly, one hand in his hair, cradling his skull briefly. "Thanks Sammy," before releasing the hug and putting Sam at arms length to give him a concerned look. "Dude. You okay? How's your shoulder?"

"I'm alright. Just tired is all," he hedged not meeting his brother's eyes. "And my shoulder's good. Barely hurts anymore."

Dean nodded at that. "You didn't have to wait up for me you know. If you were tired, you should've just gone to bed."

"I wasn't waiting for you," Sam spluttered. How did he know?

"Uh huh," Dean said, taking the seat opposite Sam's.

Sam went over to the liquor tray and poured him a shot of whiskey. Plopping it down in front of his brother, he took his seat again.

"You're my favourite," Dean said as thanks.

Smiling, Sam waved it off and asked, "So? How'd it go?"

He leaned back in his chair, listening to Dean's colourful retelling of his hunt involving a cursed object. Things were right with the world again. He didn't even realize that he'd fallen asleep until Dean gently shook him awake. "Go to bed Sam."

"Not tired. Listening," he said with sleep muffled voice.

"Dude you just fell asleep. I wasn't going to say anything but you're kinda looking like something that I'd have to hunt. Go to bed. I'll tell you the rest in the morning."

"Alright." He did feel sleepy finally. Lifting his six three frame, he shambled down the hall to his room, a ghost of a smile fighting to take over his lips. He didn't know how Dean did it, but he always managed to make Sam feel like that little boy again.

He dropped his long frame onto his bed and was asleep in seconds...

He could feel himself slowly drifting into wakefulness. For the first time in a long time, he felt good. Turning over onto his back, he threw a hand over his eyes as he stretched out his legs. Since there were no windows in the bunker, it was hard to tell what time of day it was but it felt like he'd slept for a long time.

He sat up and stretched his limbs luxuriously. There were only the faint echoes of pain in his shoulder and he rotated it slightly to see what kind of mobility he had available. He hadn't been able to do his proper workout routine since he'd gotten hurt, seems like he'd be able to start again, as early as tomorrow even.

His stomach made this truly embarrassing sound that had him blushing even though he was in the room by himself. Guess everything was returning to normal now that he'd had a decent night's sleep. Getting up, he stretched again, a low groan of satisfaction escaping him as his bones popped and his muscles loosened.

Food, his mind demanded, sending him to the kitchen.

"He lives," Dean greeted as soon as he entered the kitchen.

"I guess I was more tired than I thought." He sat at the table as Dean started to pull things out of the fridge.

"No kidding. Dude you looked like a revanant last night."

"Ha ha."

Dean placed a cup of coffee in front of him and his stomach grumbled again, quietly this time. He took a nice long drink of the hot liquid, his eyes closed in pleasure and appreciation. Sighing, he put the cup down and turned to his brother.

"Where're the scissors now?" Contrary to what Dean thought, Sam had been listening to his story of the cursed ancient pair of scissors.

"It's in a warded iron box. One of Bobby's old ones. I left it in the Impala so you could do your thing and destroy it."

Sam nodded, already making a mental inventory of all the items he would need to safely destroy the object. Although from what Dean had said last night, this was not a typical cursed object so he might have to see it and do some research. The regular methods might not work and he didn't want to make a mistake and end up with one of them wearing a pair of scissors. After all the things they had done and been through, dying by cursed object would get them laughed out of Heaven and Hell both.

"I can see that big brain of yours working. You gonna need my help?" He placed a heaping plate of scrambled eggs with veggies and toast in front of his brother.

"Nah. I might have to do some research on the object but apart from that I'll just catalogue it and destroy it."

Dean sat next to him with his own plate of eggs and bacon and nodded. "Good. I didn't like how Baby handled on the drive here. I wanna get under her hood and see what's what."

Gasping, he jolted up from his bed, his heart racing a mile a minute as he struggled to catch his breath. He tried to force himself to calm as he slowly sank back down onto his bed, a frustrated sound escaping his lips.

"Fuck!" he said with feeling. Why did this keep happening? He knew what the problem was but to deal with it, he would have to talk to Dean and he did not want to. He did not want to appear weak to his brother.

He just wanted to get a few nights of restful, uninterrupted sleep.

Sighing, he got up. He might as well start up his workout routine. He was getting out of shape anyway. He turned on his light and got dressed into running gear. He grabbed his phone and headphones and turned on his running playlist.

As the high paced music started to play, he strapped a knife holster to his thigh with a rune-etched blade in. He also got his "FBI" gun holster and gun just to be safe. It was four in the morning. Lots of people would already be up and about by this time but it was always better to be prepared.

Sinking down from the push up, Sam's mind flashed back to a memory from earlier in the day. He'd just returned from his run, sweaty and exhausted and Dean was sitting in the library cleaning the guns.

Dean liked to make sure that their weapons were in top condition so he would sometimes just get them out so he could clean and calibrate them.

He gave him a look as Sam came down the stairs, but didn't say anything. At the time, he'd been in such a hurry to escape the room without having to answer questions, that Sam didn't really pay it much attention. He'd simply said a quick, "morning," over his shoulder on his way to the showers.

Right now though, in the dead of night, while he tried to exhaust himself with exercise, his mind was hyper magnifying that look.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Dean suspected something. He hadn't said anything through out the day. In fact, it was a normal day for them, but Sam knew that he knew, somehow, and this made him feel unease.

He started the set over again, even more determined. Sweat dripped off his bare back. He was going to knock himself out if it was the last thing he did.

1, 2, 3...

Sam paced his room, groaning in frustration. He'd been awake now for five days. He was so tired but the fear of another earth shattering nightmare kept him awake. It was like his mind refused to release its hold on consciousness. In contrast, he could feel a slight tremor in his limbs as they begged him to rest.

He was pacing the floor of his room as he tried to build the courage to go to Dean. It wasn't too late right now. Chances were high that his brother was still awake but for some reason he couldn't seem to get himself to walk the few feet down the hall.

He just wanted to sleep. He looked at the door again and made another sound of frustration when instead of going to it, he made another circuit of his room.

Dean was always so tough. He was his fearless big brother and Sam had been trying to be like him all his life. He didn't want Dean to seem him when he was so weak. He wanted Dean to be able to trust and depend on him the same way he could Dean.

He ran his hand carelessly through his hair as his mind raced.

He was actually surprised that Dean hadn't called him out all week even though he had to know something was up. Not much escaped Dean's notice and he'd been tense all week waiting. It was kind of ridiculous just how on edge he was. It's not that he'd never looked weak in front of Dean. His demon blood days and the trials came to mind immediately.

Maybe he didn't want Dean to ever look at him the same way he did as when he was addicted to demon blood. His brother had lost faith in him because he wasn't strong enough. He stopped being an equal to Dean and became the nuisance little brother he had to take care of.

The problem was that he couldn't do this on his own. By not trusting in Dean, he was endangering them both. What if he kept going like this and something bad happened during a hunt? Last time he'd hurt his shoulder and it was basically a milk run. What about the next time when their backs were to the wall and Dean was depending on him?

He sat on his bed at that sobering thought, then got up again.

"Fuck it!" he said, yanked the door open and stepped out.

He walked quickly down the hall to Dean's room, not allowing himself to think. Stopping in front of the door, his fist hovered. He could still go back to his room.

With determination, he rapped on the door.

"Dean?" he called softly.