Disclaimer: There's only so many ways you can say no, and still hold the attention of the readers.

A/N: Hiya everyone! Ok, so I can't believe I'm doing this... I have a few one shots started that I'm going to work on in the coming days, but I wanted to post something tonight, and it's finally come down to this... posting this one shot that I have tonight. This was one of my very first one shots that I ever wrote... at least two years ago. I knew it sucked then, and I know it sucks now, so I had always had it just sitting on my comptuer-- long forgotten and ignored. But tonight I am desperate for something new to give you all to read, so I am going to give it to you. Haha, please be kind...
(two added notes... one is that i'm aware that this has sam knowing everything at 8... i wrote it long before the christmas episode. second thing is that this isn't supposed to be a death fic-- just pretend that john came home later on. thanks!)

Title: Maybe One Day We'll Wake Up
Genre: Angst, sad and a bit of fluff.
Summary: An unusually emotionally filled brother moment; the young Winchester's wait up one night for their Dad to come home.

Maybe One Day We'll Wake Up

The clock was above the tv in the small hotel room they were staying at. Dean liked it there because most of the time him and Sam would watch tv, and he could keep track of the time. Now, however, he wished that there was no clock at all in the place. Maybe then it wouldn't keep going; ticking by with fear. It was nearly midnight, and John was supposed to be home early that afternoon.

John Winchester was never late.

"Dean," eight year old Sam walked slowly into the living room.

"Sammy," Dean shifted around, "Hey kid, I thought you went to bed over two hours ago."

Sam shook his head before speaking, "Is Daddy home yet?"

With those four words Dean knew how upset his little brother was. Dean himself was almost thirteen, and could never remember calling their Dad 'Daddy', and Sam had long outgrown the habit. Except, the elder brother noticed, when he was sick or scared. It didn't take him long to figure out which it was this time.

"No, he's not."

Sam took a deep, shaking breath, "But he was supposed to be back this afternoon. That's what you said."

"I know," Dean's voice was soft as he tried to hide his own worry, "But… maybe he got held up."

"Maybe it got him," Sam sat on the couch beside Dean; who turned off the tv, "Remember? Dad said that it was something big. That was why both Uncle Bobby and Caleb were going with him."

"I know," Dean agreed, thinking his words over carefully, "But they're all really good at this."

"Can't you call them?"

"No," Dean let Sam snuggle in against him, "Dad's phone broke on the last hunt he was on, and neither Caleb or Bobby have one. Dad says he doesn't like to phone anyways-- it's too risky."

"But if they're hurt," Sam's voice quivered, "If-If they're hurt… they'll call, right?"

Dean had no answer.

Internally he didn't want an answer. All his life Dean had been dreading this moment; this day. The day his Dad didn't come home from a hunt. John had warned him many times that it may happen; kept the thought fresh in the young boys head. He'd told Dean exactly what he had to do if he didn't come back one day, and for the life of him Dean couldn't remember a word of it now. Numbness had been filling his body as the hours went by, and he wished nothing more at that point than to see his Dad walk in through the door. He'd do anything to see that.

"I want Daddy to come home," Sam's small whisper came from beside him, snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

"I know Sammy."

"Can't we go find him?" Sam asked hopefully, "He's been training you a lot lately. I bet we could find him."

"No," Dean shook his head, "We just have to wait Sam."

"I don't want to wait," tears slowly crept down the eight year olds cheeks, "I want him back now. Please Dean…" Sam's whole body shook now, "Please… bring Dad back."

"Shh," Dean wasn't surprised to find tears coming down his own tired face, "Shh Sammy… it's going to be ok, I promise."

"No," Sam curled in closer to Dean, his eyes squeezed shut, "No… not without him. N-Not without Dad. Please Dean… I promise I'll be good…"

"Shh," the small comforting sound was all that Dean could make between his own fear and tears.

"I promise," Sam cried out.

Dean put his arm around Sam's body, and gently began to rub his arm; something that used to lull the young boy to sleep. For nearly a minute the two brother half lay on the couch in the silence, letting their fear and worry out.

"I-It's like a bad dream," Sam finally whispered, a small hiccough escaping his mouth.

"Shh Sammy, it's ok," Dean whispered, hearing his little brother sob himself to sleep, "…maybe one day we'll wake up."

The End.