The inspiration for this particular story came from a video I saw of Jensen Ackles singing the song The Weight originally performed by The Band because the lyrics talk about taking off a load and "put it right on me. Hope you guys enjoy! C:

THIS IS SET early season 1 right after Jess dies.

Sam stared at his laptop screen glowing brightly in the otherwise pitch-black motel room. A headache throbbed throughout his skull and it felt as if he was going to explode, sending shards of his skull and clumps of brain matter every which way. Man, how he wished he could just explode. That would definitely make everything easier. Shaking his head and rubbing at his dry eyes, Sam glanced over at his brother's sleeping form on the motel bed. Sam was envious of his elder sibling's seemingly uninterrupted sleep and let out a soft sigh.

He hadn't been able to sleep a full night ever since the funeral. Sam's chest ached and he subconsciously rubbed at it. The mere thought of Jess sent a deep frown onto his face. He wasn't sure how long he could keep his mask up. He was sure he'd been fooling Dean so far, making his older brother think that he wasn't deep into a pit of depression. He was sure his older brother hadn't noticed the sleepless nights. Of course he knew about the nightmares, but that was only when Sam did finally get to sleep. Dean didn't need to know that though.

The blue light from his laptop screen cast an eerie glow on the walls and made strange shadows out of the furniture. Sam thought he saw something flicker out of the corner of his eye, but was sure it was just his mind playing tricks. After all, he hadn't slept in days. Who knew what kind of hallucinations he would start having soon.

Dean rolled over suddenly with a heavy breath, making Sam jolt in surprise. He glanced over to see if Dean was still asleep and breathed an involuntary sigh of relief when he saw that his sibling was still dead away.

He hated hiding things from Dean like this, but he wasn't yet sure how exactly to be with his brother. He'd been gone for several years, and things had definitely changed between the two previously inseparable brothers. Honestly, Sam just wasn't sure he could talk to Dean anymore. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dean. It was that he wasn't sure how to be with Dean anymore. Was he still Dean's little brother? Would Dean still feel that protective pull over him? He still called the younger man Sammy, so he had that to hold onto. It wasn't enough.

Sam missed being able to talk to Dean freely, without all of these worries and trepidations. He missed being small enough to crawl into bed with his older brother, curl up into his side and feel Dean's muscled arms come around him. Miss being able to cry into his shoulder about the fact that their father had once again missed Sam's birthday or, when he was old enough, his first break up. But Dean had stopped being physical with Sam like that when he'd turned thirteen, because Winchesters didn't do cuddling and they'd both be sent through the wringer if their father had seen them like that.

"Sleep is a good thing, Sam." Dean's voice, laced with sleepiness and faint irritation, made Sam gasp and tip back in his chair, falling to the grimy carpet with a puff of air.

"What?" He asked, completely out of it. Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam's lack of awareness. Something was going on in his mind, but Dean didn't know how to bring it up. He wasn't even sure Sam would want to talk to him anymore. After all these years, after Sam had rejected not only their father but his older brother as well, Dean wasn't sure he wanted to be pushed away again if he tried to talk to his little brother. They hadn't fallen back into the routine. They weren't inseparable anymore. Somewhere between when Sam had left and when Dean had picked him up again, the younger boy had turned into a man and become an independent thinker. Dean just didn't know how to deal with that.

"Stop researching and get to sleep." Dean replied gruffly, flipping over. Sam blinked up at his laptop. Oh, that's right. He'd been researching. However, instead of picking himself off the floor and closing his laptop, crawling into bed to make his brother happy, but always ending up staring up at the darkness all night, Sam remained lying on the ground, lacking the motivation to pick himself off the floor. When Dean didn't hear his brother start to move, he sat up and reached over, flipping on the light. Sam was still lying on the ground, eyes staring up at the ceiling but not really seeing anything. "Sam. Get up." Dean commanded. The man didn't acknowledge that he'd heard his older brother. "SAM." Dean snapped, seeming to bring the boy back to the real world.

"What? Sorry, right. Bed." Sam replied, picking himself heavily off the ground. Dean didn't like the way he moved slowly, as if he were several years older. He didn't like the hunch that Sam stood with, the way his shoulders moved up around his head as if he were trying to sink in on himself. In the few months they'd been together since Jessica's death, Sam had seemed much smaller than usual, almost like he were trying to fold in on himself and protect himself from whatever was out there. Dean hated it.

He watched his younger brother close his laptop and change into a pair of sweatpants and throw a sweatshirt over his t-shirt before climbing into bed. Dean turned the lamp back off and rolled over, covering his head with a pillow in hopes to block out the pitiful noises Sam was sure to make if he fell asleep and started to have nightmares.

Lying in bed, Sam steeled himself. He was going to do it. He was going to break down the wall that had grown between he and his older brother. He was going to do the one thing that Winchesters never did. He was going to ask for help.

"Hey Dean?" He asked hesitantly, watching as Dean's form squirmed slightly before his older brother sighed and responded.

"Yeah?" He asked, not really wanting to have any conversations at three in the morning. Sam didn't seem to care, however.

"I uh…" Sam stammered, suddenly at a loss for words. What was he going to say again? Why had he bothered Dean out of the blue like that?

"Sam?" Dean asked, immediately on alert. Sam never stuttered like that, never tripped over his own tongue.

"Dean, man, I…I need help." Sam finally admitted, his voice cracking slightly at the end of his sentence. Dean narrowed his eyes in confusion, but didn't say anything as Sam continued with his sentence. "I don't sleep man, I can't stop thinking about Jess, and I know that finding her killer, getting revenge, it isn't going to change anything, but it hurts so bad man and I just…" Sam stopped, taking a deep breath to calm himself down slightly. "I don't want to push you away anymore, Dean." His voice wavered and Dean heard him sniffle before a muffled sob reached his ear.

His instinct kicked in. All of the feelings and urges that had lain dormant when Sam left kicked into action. Dean threw the covers off of his legs and made his way to Sam's bed in three long strides. Before he even realized what he was doing, he'd flopped onto the bed next to his gargantuan of a brother and wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders, pulling his little brother to him. Sam seemed to stiffen in his grip for a split second before relaxing and allowing Dean's comforting and firm, yet caring embrace calm him down.

He'd been so stupid. Dean would never stop being his older brother. Even when Sam was twenty-two and Dean was twenty-six, he'd still be Sam's big brother. He would still protect Sam from the ugly things in the world. He would even succumb to a chick flick moment to embrace Sam and make sure his little brother knew that no matter what, as long as the two of them were together, everything would be okay. He would always be there to take a weight off of Sam and take it on himself. And Dean didn't have to say it, but Sam knew his older brother would always love and take care of him.