Dean lay in his brother’s arms, listening to his breathing, the thumbing of his heartbeat. Hours flew by with out even being noticed. The hours existed only because he knew he, as well as Sam, needed the comfort, the reassurance. His father was gone and it was true he really didn’t know how to cope; he really didn’t know what to do about it.
The eldest Winchester lay awake, staring at the ceiling and every so often watching the rise and fall of his brothers chest, just to make sure he was still there, still alive, still with him. This was the first time Sam was able to get decent sleep for 3 or 4 weeks now. Sleep that wasn’t disturbed by nightmares of Jessica burning, with out screams of horror filling the air. Dean was sure that if he had been asleep they would have woke him, as well as the whole motel and maybe the whole county. He sometimes thought that when he slept, his screams, his pleds and horrors woke Sam up, but Sam hadn’t mentioned it. It was only a matter of time before he said something about them.
Sometimes Dean was afraid to sleep, when he was younger he would go for hours with out laying his head on the pillow but he still eventually drifted off. Nightmares where the things that brought him back into the world around him, cold, scared and covered in sweat. As he became older he learned to control sleep a little more, so that he didn’t have to sleep. But then his father came home, injured and he gave in, took his pills which made him so tired that he couldn’t go a day with out drifting off. They didn’t stop the nightmares thought, the just stopped the screaming.
Now that he wasn’t taking them again he had forgotten how to control his sleeping patterns and, like his younger self, had to sleep eventually. And he gave into this fact. But even thought he was tired, gagging for sleep as he lay beside his brother, he couldn’t let him self give in. Right now drifting off was weakness, he wasn’t weak, he never was weak.
Xxxxxx
It wasn’t long before Sam woke up, Dean was sitting watching the first stars of the night creep across the sky, reading Johns journal. Something twinkled in his eyes, and for the first time Sam witnessed his brother crying, suffering his silent pain. Alone. Dean’s breath came slow, rattled, it sounded as if it hurt to breathe, but the way he tried to hide it was desperate. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, cleared his throat to get rid of tat hoarse feeling.
Sam watched helplessly. He wanted to help his brother, tell him everything was going to be okay, tell him they would find Dad, tell him they were going to kill that son-of-a-bitch demon and help him as much as they could. Slowly, Sam sat up on his elbows.
“Dean?” He asked softly,” You okay?”
Didn’t replie, he franticly wiped his eyes.
“Dean? Look at me, you don’t have to hide. You don’t have to suffer in silence. What ever these things are doing to you we—“
“What things?! There is no ‘things’ “Dean snapped.
“That’s not true and you know it isn’t. Please let me help. I can.”
“Just shut up Sam. I’m not in the mood.”
Dean was shaking; his hand was hitting the windowsill in his rhythm. Sam crossed his legs and sat up.
“Don’t tell me to shut up! Just talk to me damn it.”
“Shut the hell up Sam. If I don’t want to talk I don’t have to!”
“Why don’t you go to sleep? You said you wanted to? Why didn’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean’s voice was threatening, the hitting had stopped.
“Your scared to sleep, just like when we where kids. With all that you’ve seen, I’d think a woman in a clock would be no problem to you.”
“SHUT UP SAM!”
“What are you afraid off? Are you scared we are going to be beat up by a girl? Scared the ladies going to kill us Dean?”
Sam smirked his was hitting a nerve, getting him to talk, in a way. He didn’t like it but this was one of those days where you didn’t want to take any of Dean’s bullshit, where you didn’t want him to live. It was like that sometimes. One day you wanted him to live others you didn’t.
“Stop it Sam.” Dean’s voice was softer, defeated.
“You think we are all going to die at the hands of a woman—“
Suddenly Dean stood up violently throwing John’s table to the floor, he lifted Sam up off the bed using seer force and anger. His eyes where full of rage, fear.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP SAM! You don’t know what it’s like seeing these things and hearing them continually. Even when I’m awake. That bitch is not going to stop until she’s killed us all, and I know it. So just shut the fuck up.”
Sam stared at his brother. He was shaking, from the cold or fear Sam couldn’t tell, and he wasn’t about to ask. At that moment he knew he shouldn’t have pushed Dean.
Sighing Sam looked away from his brother.
“I’m sorry. Just please put me down.” Sam replied feebly, now he was defeated.
“No! No! You started this!” Dean almost shouted.” You want to know what’s in my head!!”
“No Dean.”
“Then shut up. Shut your god-damned mouth and leave me alone and don’t tell me what the hell to do.”
Dean dropped Sam with a thump to the floor.
“NEVER tell me what to do.”
