Dean stared at the silhouette of Sam in the gray half-light and pulsing shadows. Sam was asleep on the ever-present metal cot, Dean a couple feet behind him on a canvas cot that Bobby'd wrangled up somewhere.

Sam was asleep, for the first time in - really - who knew how long? Soul-filled once again, he'd promptly fallen asleep and persistently stayed asleep, and Dean had hardly left the panic room since then. He told Bobby he wanted to be there in case Sam had nightmares, he wanted to be there in case the Wall gave out.

The truth was, Dean needed to be there when Sam opened his eyes the first time. No matter what condition Sam woke up in, Dean needed to be the first thing Sam laid eyes on.

Only, it was two hundred twenty three hours later, and Sam had yet to open his eyes, or hardly even move. Dean had taken the cuffs off of him, because Sam was not going to wake up in cuffs. They'd put an IV into his arm to keep him from dying of dehydration. They readjusted his position every few hours to keep him from getting pressure sores. But so far, on his own, Sam had turned his head to one side and that was all.

And now, Dean was behind him, on his wooden-framed canvas cot. Not sleeping, never sleeping, only watching Sam, happy that he was sleeping, wishing that he'd wake up, aching to know that he was all right.

Every once in a while, Dean reached across the small distance to press his hand against Sam's shoulder, feeling his relaxed muscles, feeling him breathe. Dean didn't want to fall asleep and not be there, awake, when Sam woke up.

He didn't want to fall asleep and wake up to realize this had all been a hopeful dream and nothing else.

Sam twitched a little and sighed and stilled when Dean pressed his hand against his arm again.

Sam needed to sleep, of anything true in the universe, that was the truest. After a year or more of not sleeping, Sam needed to sleep. But couldn't he just wake up for a just a minute even and talk to Dean?

But if he was sleeping, he was healing, right?

Right?

Well, Dean would believe that was true when Sam woke up and told him it was true.

"All your life Sammy, I've always been happy when you were sleeping. When you were a baby, I used to stand at your crib and watch you sleep. I really used to love the times Mom would let me hold you while you slept. I'd sit in the rocking chair and hold you in my arms and just stare at you while you slept. Now all I want you to do is wake up and bitch at me about something. Anything. Just wake up. Just for a minute. Okay? Wake up just for a minute and then we can both go back to sleep."

But Sam didn't wake up, of course. When did Sam ever do what he was told?

Well - lots of times. If Dean was going to be honest - and right now he had the time for that luxury - Sam did what Dean told him to do a lot. Even fully grown and fully capable, Sam would follow Dean's lead if he didn't have a compelling reason not to.

And sometimes even when he did.

Because he trusted that no matter what, Dean would watch out for him. Because he trusted that Dean would never ask – or tell – him to do something that would hurt him. Because he always felt safe with Dean.

Because doing what Big Brother said was just something that Little Brother did.

And sometimes doing what Little Brother wanted was just what Big Brother did.

Dean sighed and made himself comfy on his cot.

"All right, Sammy. I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow, I'm getting Cas here and then it's your turn to do what I want and wake up."

The End.