Disclaimer: I'm too poor to own anything even remotely interesting.

A/N: I'm bummed out about everything in life right now (I'll even include my average of two reviews a chapter on this thing, haha)… so what does that culminate to? Yep… cover your eyes… it's a death fic. So this will get like, I dunno… half a review? Which means someone will be sitting at the bottom of the page with a review typed in and not have pressed the submit button. Jerk.

Title: 12:08AM
Genre: Tragedy
Summary: Sam wakes up in the early hours of the night when Dean comes into the hotel room after having checked on a new case.

12:08AM

Sam shifted in his sleep, hunter instincts vaguely aware that someone was in the room with him. It was okay though; probably just Dean. His brother was supposed to be meeting up with him at the hotel, and according to Sam's calculations, the Winchester's lead foot would get him to the small town in Nebraska at some time in the middle of the night.

'You wake me up and I will shoot you,' Sam playfully threatened the evening before.

'You'll never get the shot off Sammy.'

Eyes still closed, and his brain thick with sleep Sam half considered letting unconsciousness take hold of him once more. But something inside of the younger Winchester fluttered, and because of this, Sam creaked opened a single tired eye and saw a bleary '12:08AM' read from the clock on the bedside end table.

It was still so early!

"Dean?" Sam muttered out hoarsely.

"Yeah…" the voice was quiet and apologetic.

Sam flipped over from his stomach, managing to twist himself even more in his sheets as he did so. The orange lights from the street outside the hotel shone in through the partially closed curtains and illuminated just enough for Sam to make out the shadow of his brother standing sheepishly by his own bed.

"Sorry man, I tried to be quiet," Dean, despite both brother's being awake, kept his voice low.

Sam shook his head and kicked the covers off more, "It's fine. You're back early; it's…" he stared at the clock, "—is that the real time?"

"Yeah," Dean sat on his bed.

Sam clicked on the bedside light and recoiled slightly at the bright intrusion. He got the wanted result, however, and was able to see properly the entirety of the room which included nothing more than two twin size beds with matching end tables and a small dresser which sat against the wall. A door led to the bathroom on one side of the room and a small, funny smelling chair sat near the exit. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside Sam's currently taking off his shoes sat Dean, and for a long moment Sam watched, unsure what to make of the simple answer and waiting for a follow up explanation.

"Dude…" Sam finally spoke.

"Yeah?" Dean looked up.

Sam half laughed, "It's midnight. You're like three hours earlier than you thought you'd be."

Dean grinned, "Yeah dude, that's because I didn't have your whiney ass sitting beside me the entire time asking for a pee break or to stretch your gigantor legs."

Sam relaxed slightly at this, "Maybe so, but you still had to of been driving fast even for you. And it's February man and the roads-"

"Beer?" Dean interrupted as he now stood by the six-pack the two had tucked away between the beds.

"Really Dean?"

"Just trying to create a little intermission in your little worried Mom speech," Dean sat back down on the bed and opened up his own beer, "Continue."

Sam sighed but couldn't help but smile as he rubbed a hand over his half asleep face, "So did you figure anything out? Was it the brothers that were killed at the warehouse, or do you think that it could be the contractor's son who is causing the problem?"

"Actually I think we're good on this case," Dean took a swing of beer.

"What?" Sam frowned.

Dean nodded, "I don't think it's either."

"But there's been four people killed in the past two months at that warehouse plus reports of people seeing apparitions of men in the area after dark. We just couldn't figure out if it was the brothers who were killed in that accident or the contractor's son who was murdered," Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother.

Dean pointed a finger at Sam and smiled triumphantly, "Neither."

"What?"

"It was the contractor."

Sam stood to his feet suddenly, his twisted sheets caught up in his sleep pajamas as he felt his heart lurch into his throat, "What do you mean the contractor? How do you know Dean?"

"I had a little bit of a conversation with him if you will," Dean leaned back more on his bed as he drank his beer.

Sam's eyes widened, "Seriously? Dean you should have called me!"

Dean laughed at this, "Sammy I didn't have time. Besides it was an easy job; it's all taken care of I promise. Probably best you weren't there anyways."

"Why?" Sam sat on the edge of his bed and faced his brother.

"Can't practice my ninja moves with you around," Dean joked before getting serious, "And it's always easier to work a case that's flipped ass over end when I'm not worried about you."

"But you need back-up Dean," again Sam found himself rubbing his face in disbelief.

"Naw," Dean dismissed, "I'm too awesome."

"Geeze," Sam sighed, "Are you alright?"

"That's a stupid question that you should already know Sam," Dean wiggled his eyebrows as he placed his beer on the end table, "Now why don't you head back to sleep—tomorrow is going to be a freaking long day for at least one of us. I'm gonna hit the head, then crash myself."

"Okay," Sam stood up and shook his head at everything his brother had told him, "You really were an idiot today Dean. You should have called me as soon as things started going sideways."

Dean waved this off, "Go to sleep Sammy."

Sam laid back down in his bed and teased once again before clicking off his bedside lamp, "Goodnight Dean. Wake me up when you come out and I will shoot you."

Dean smiled the crooked half smile that he saved to make Sam feel better when he was upset and whispered as he went into the bathroom, "You'll never get the shot off Sammy."

Four hours later the police would arrive at the hotel.

The End.