Note: It's technically still Easter for two more hours where I live, so this totally counts. Oh, and for those of you who follow me on tumblr, I am still alive and will return as soon as I catch up on the show (which I have not seen any of s13 yet so it's going to take some time), the moment I get back to tumbling I will reply to all the messages sitting around in my inbox, I promise. Sorry for being MIA, life has been crazy. Anyways, enjoy the Easter fic :)

He was hungry.

He was tired.

He was sick.

He was so damn thirsty but swallowing made his throat hurt like hell. His eight-hour Saturday shift at the grocery store had been absolute chaos and dealing with customers at the cash register had taken what was left of his voice. His hour-long walk home in the chilly spring rain was sapping the little strength he had left.

His stomach was rumbling, his throat and head were throbbing, his skin was soaked and shivering, and complete depletion felt as thought it was a single step away.

But Sam didn't feel the least bit miserable, because Dean was coming back today, or rather tonight, maybe even tomorrow morning.

Either way, he would be back soon.

A lopsided grin pulled at the teenager's lips as he quickened his pace, ignoring the squish of his shoes.

Dean hadn't been gone long, nearly two weeks was all, but it felt like longer - it always felt like longer when the brothers were apart. He had gone to meet their father – who was hunting several states away - a little over ten days ago. Normally, Sam would have gone as well, but John had said the next few hunts he had planned were all over the map and the youngest might as well stay put and stay in school. Sam was more than thankful for being able to stay in one place, especially one high school, for a chunk of time; but when Dean got the call to meet their Dad, Sam had asked – practically begged – to go with him. It wasn't that he wanted to miss out on a week of school, or that he had much of a desire to take part in the family business, or even that he missed John who had been on a hunting spree over all fifty states for the past month – no, Sam wanted to go with his brother because he hated being left behind, and more than that, he really hated being left behind by Dean.

Sam almost tripped, cursing softly as the sole of his shoe caught on a crack in the pavement and nearly folded in half. He made a mental note to buy some more duct tape to reattach the rubber bottom of his sneakers. His kicks already looked ugly as sin with the metallic tape wrapped around them, they'd fallen apart at work last week, but he couldn't afford new shoes right now, so he'd just have to make do for now. But even his useless right shoe didn't slow Sam's steps, because Dean would be back soon and Sam had plans to make Easter awesome. Dean always did everything he could to make holidays special, and the youngest Winchester knew that his big brother did it all for him, and now it was Sam's turn to do the same.

Sam had spoken to Dean over the phone a couple times since he'd gone away, the older teen had left Sam his phone so that he'd be able to call whenever he needed to. Dean had used Dad's shitty old cell phone to call once and awhile. The younger boy knew his brother had called as often as he'd be able, but that hadn't been very often. Sam knew the hunt was grueling, which was the reason John had summoned his eldest across the country in the first place. He was used to not hearing from his father, both the boys were, but Dean had always done his best to stay in touch when he was away, which was why after four days straight of no contact, Sam had started to worry, but he hadn't wanted to call and annoy his family.

He rolled his eyes at himself, the truth was he hadn't wanted to call and look needy, scared, or weak.

He was supposed to be strong and fearless.

He was supposed to be a warrior.

All Winchesters were.

Sam was trying, but he wasn't as good as the rest of his little family, so when the phone finally rang yesterday, he picked it up before the first ring was even through – which of course he got in shit for because he didn't wait for the signature Winchester ring and even though it was a personal fucking cellphone "you can never be too careful, Sam." After a brief lecture, John had informed Sam that Dean was on his way back. The teenager could sense that there was something wrong, he knew Dean wasn't hurt or he wouldn't be heading back so soon after the hunt, but Sam could still sense by the weight in his dad's voice that it had been a bad hunt and if it wasn't bad physically that meant emotionally some damage had been done. Also, the fact that it wasn't Dean calling sent off some warning bells in the younger boy's head.

He didn't know what had gone down during the hunt and he was pretty certain if it was as bad as he thought, he would never know. But no matter what, Sam was going to make it better for his big brother, and he was going to start by celebrating a kick-ass Easter for him.

He glanced at his watch squinting through the rain dripping into his eyes to see the time. It was nearly six, getting darker by the second, he still had plenty of time. According to his calculations, Dean shouldn't be arriving early tomorrow morning, or perhaps the afternoon depending on how long he'd stop for. The drive would be about twenty-two hours, meaning Dean would have to stop and stay somewhere or at least pull over and take a nap halfway. It didn't matter, whenever Dean arrived, Sam would be ready.

He grinned as he thought of the chocolate pie, can of whip cream, and the giant Easter egg he bought yesterday, he had gotten in so late they were all still sitting in the grocery bag he had tossed into the fridge. The diner across the street also had a turkey dinner on special for the entire weekend and thanks to his job, Sam could actually afford to take his brother there for Easter dinner. It was probably long overdue, but the fifteen-year-old was still happy as hell that he could finally make a good holiday for his big brother.

He had been hoping Dean would be back for the holiday and had been trying to think up a way to make it a good one, like his big brother had always managed to do, even when they were broke as dirt. The moment he saw the giant chocolate Easter egg in the grocery store, he knew he had to get it for Dean – it reminded him so much of the one the older boy got Sam years ago, except it was even bigger. It had been a ridiculous price, but seeing Dean's face would make it all worth it.

Sam released a relived sigh at the sight of the apartment building, pushing his soaked bangs out his eyes as he sped up, eager to get out of the chilly wind and rain. He let out a tired breath as he finally made it into the building and stood in the elevator, leaning back against the wall, wrapping his arms around himself as he shivered and watched the numbers light up, waiting to arrive at the fifth floor. The building was decent, not nearly as sketchy as some of the places Sam had lived. It was far nicer than the motel John had checked them into over a month ago when they arrived in town. A week after their dad's departure, Dean had moved the two remaining Winchester's into the apartment building that was newer, cleaner, and in a nicer area of town. The room they were sharing was small, but they had been in tighter quarters in the past. It was a studio apartment, the only walled off room being the bathroom, much like many hotel rooms they had lived in. There was one bed, but it was a king so it could fit both teens easily and there was also a sitting area with a fairly comfortable couch for when Dean needed his space and didn't want Sam's "octopus limbs all over him." The table was small but stable and the kitchen was compact but shiny and clean, as was the bathroom. The television was pretty big and had at least a dozen channels, which was Dean's favorite thing about the room. It was small and as inexpensive as they could rent in the building, but it was clean and comfortable and safe.

But it just wasn't home without Dean.

Sam got more space to sleep and stretch out and make dinner, but the apartment felt so damn empty without his big brother. He didn't look forward to the end of the school day or getting off work because it meant him walking back into that empty room. Sam had learned early on that privacy, space, and independence were really fucking overrated. It was all he had wanted when he was a kid, but now even at the young age of fourteen, he was sick of it.

He just wanted his big brother.

Which was the exact thought in his head when he walked down the hall towards room number twenty-seven, but his mind was quickly distracted once he noticed the door was partially open. He approached slowly, hand sliding into his pocket to wrap around the butterfly knife he had there, the only weapon he had on him, which would no doubt disappoint his father – what else was new. Before Sam could free the knife from his jeans, the door swung all the way open and he was grabbed by the front of his coat and tugged inside, his back hitting the wall as he was held back against it.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

The snarl would have been frightening if it had been anything but parental.

Sam twitched a smile, his hands moving up to rest against his brother's chest as he stared into the blazing green eyes. He opened his mouth to answer the question, but didn't have the chance to get a word in before Dean spoke again.

"When you take off, you leave a goddamn note, Sam."

Normally, the young teen would have bristled at such an unfair demand – leave a note for himself, because he was the only one he knew living in the entire fucking town? Yeah, that made a lot of sense – but he could see the state of panic Dean was masking with his anger, so Sam took a breath and went for a calm approach.

"Sorry, you weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow." He explained, annoyed that his hoarse voice barely able to relay the simple message. He relaxed away from the wall, as his brother released his firm hold.

"What's the matter with you?" Dean asked, his entire demeaner shifting, his tone and expression transforming as the fire faded in the gaze that was now studying the younger boy.

Sam quirked a grin, damn, had he missed his big brother. He was about to answer when a calloused hand rested against his forehead.

"Fuck, you're sick. Why didn't you say anything?" Dean queried gruffly, his palm sliding down to cup Sam's cheek for a moment before falling a way.

"I didn't really get the chance between you shoving me against the wall and now." Sam pointed out with a smirk.

"My bad, little brother." Dean muttered, straightening Sam's jacket before taking a step back and running his hand through his short hair. Now that he wasn't wound up and hollering, Sam could see how exhausted his big brother looked. Dean's face was lined with exhaustion, there were deep circles under his eyes and his posture was stooped and weary. His movements were slow and since losing its fire, his gaze had become pained and tired. "You just freaked me out, dude. You weren't here and you weren't at the library or the diner. I even checked your school."

"It's Saturday."

"I know, but you're a dork. I figured if anyone would be at school on a weekend it'd be you." The joking insult was the first sign of levity Sam had seen in his brother so far.

The younger boy did his teenage duty of rolling his eyes, but couldn't help feel relief at the sight of Dean's mischievous half-smile. Whatever damage the hunt had done, it wasn't anything Sam couldn't help remedy with some effort.

"C'mere."

Sam felt a tug at his sleeve and obediently followed his brother to the kitchen, dropping into the chair Dean pulled out from the table and nudged him into before walking away. Sooner than Sam could figure out what was going on, Dean had reappeared in front of him and was telling him to open his mouth. Sam shivered, not bothering to argue – to happy to have his brother back to bother putting up any sort of stubborn façade – he opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue when he was told and not at all surprised when Dean used the handle of a spoon as a tongue depressor and shone a flashlight into his mouth.

"Fuck."

"Whaa?" Sam asked oh-so-eloquently before the spoon was removed, looking up at his brother.

"Your throat is brutal, kid. It looks like strep. I don't know how you're even talking, that shit looks painful as hell." Dean stated, grimacing in sympathy as he tossed the spoon in the sink and discarded the flashlight onto the table.

Sam made no reaction, he'd known it was strep, he'd had it enough times to recognize the agony when it arrived in his throat.

"You taking anything for it?" Dean asked, arms crossed as he stared down at his little brother, his stance and expression telling Sam that the older teen was already pretty sure he knew the answer.

"Advil." The younger boy rasped with a shrug.

"I bet that's doing a world of good." Dean snorted.

Sam shrugged again. "Couldn't exactly go see a doctor."

"I know, buddy. You're a minor, there's no way they'd prescribe you anything useful, they'd probably just get nosy and cause problems." The elder Winchester stated knowingly.

Sam nodded, both of them had enough of experience to know that was the truth.

"Shit, Sammy. You're soaked. What the fuck were you doing walking out in the rain? Especially while you're sick." Dean admonished, pushing the still-dripping hair from Sam's face, swatting at his drenched jacket all the way down to his saturated jeans.

"You took the car, stupid." Sam retorted, staring at the top of his brother's head as the long body squatted down by his legs.

"These shoes are garbage. I'll get you new ones tomorrow." Dean announced, sliding the sopping sneakers off Sam's feet and chucking them to the side, followed shortly by his socks. "You need to get some dry clothes on and then we'll go get you checked out."

Sam frowned, allowing the elder hunter to tug him to his feet but not making a move towards the dresser and the top three drawers that held his clean clothing.

"But you just got back." He mumbled, shivering slightly and feeling the damp carpet beneath his feet as he was manhandled across the floor towards the bathroom.

"Yup, I'm back now, which means we can go get you some meds to take care of that horror show in your throat." Dean elaborated as he pushed Sam into the bathroom and tugged at the hem of his shirt, motioning for him to continue with the undressing process. The teenager cooperated, pulling off layers until he was left standing in nothing but his boxers and shaking from the cold. Dean brought him clean clothes, setting them next to the sink and half-closing the door before leaving Sam to get dressed.

When the teen emerged from the bathroom he was feeling warmer in the sweats his brother had selected for him, he caught the socks that were tossed at him. The moment he sat on the bed to slide them on, a towel was draped over his head and rubbed across his clumped wet mane. A smile pulled at his lips at the feel of his big brother drying his hair, it was equal parts familiar, comforting, and annoying.

"You should have told me you were sick."

"You just got here."

"Come on, Sam, you've been sick for at least a couple days. You should have told me when I called." Dean scolded lightly, tossing the towel into the bathroom once he was finally satisfied with the state of Sam's shaggy noggin.

"You didn't call." Sam rasped, glancing up through his bangs at the taller boy.

"Yes, I did."

"Not since I got sick four days ago." The teen replied matter-of-factly.

"What? That's not true, I jut called you on…Tuesday, fuck." Dean frowned, squinting as he calculated. "Shit, I'm sorry, Sammy."

"It's not a big deal. I could have called you." Sam insisted.

"Yeah, you could have and you should have, but I know you don't like to because you're a moron. I should have paid better attention, I should have called. The hunt just got away from us and I lost track of time."

"It's fine, Dean. I get it. It's okay." The younger boy insisted.

"I was going to call yesterday, but I wanted to head out and Dad said he'd talk to you."

"He did."

"Yeah, but he doesn't notice shit, like your croaky strep voice." Dean grunted. "I should have called. And you should have fucking called me the moment you knew you were sick." He scolded.

"There's nothing you could have done. You were in the middle of a hunt like four states a way." The teenager dismissed.

"I don't care what's going on or where the hell I am, you call me when you're sick. You got that?" Dean ordered.

"Okay, Dean." Sam agreed, placating his brother, knowing how intense he could be when it came to the youngest Winchester's health.

Dean pursed his lips, not looking the least bit satisfied, likely knowing full-well that Sam wasn't promising to call next time and distract his big brother from the job or cause him to worry unnecessarily, but he dropped the argument nonetheless.

"C'mon, let's go." He urged, snagging the warn sleeve of Sam's sweater and prompting the teenager to his feet.

Sam followed his brother dutifully to the entryway, tugging on the brown work boots that were usually reserved for hunting, but the only dry option available at the moment – they were also the only footwear he owned that didn't need to be duct-taped together. As he was stooped over tying his shoes, a warm weight was draped across his back, he recognized it instantly by both the feel and the smell, upon standing he held onto the leather jacket to keep it from sliding off his shoulders.

"Put it on, it's still raining out. We don't need you getting any more sick than you already are." Dean instructed, turning away and opening the door, indicating the matter was not up for discussion.

"You're going to get wet." Sam pointed out.

"I'm not sick." Was all the argument Dean provided as he leveled his little brother with a stern look.

The teenager relented, sliding his arms into the long sleeves and allowing the heavy coat to swallow his slim frame. He looked up to see the older boy staring down at him with an amused half-smile.

"Are you ever going to grow, you little squirt?" Dean asked, as he tugged the jacket closed around the smaller teen.

"I am growing." Sam huffed with an eyeroll, because he was – really, he was - just not nearly as quickly as Dean had. He was fourteen-years-old and still not nearly as tall as his big brother, or any of the kids in his class, even all the girls had more than a few inches on him. It wasn't fair. Sam was holding on to the hope that his Dad was right when he predicted the youngest Winchester would sprout up before he was eighteen. John had even wagered that Sam would someday be the tallest member of the family, a comment that Dean had laughed at, but the younger teenager had held onto.

"Sure you are, shortstop." Dean snickered, tossing his arm over Sam's shoulders as they made their way to the elevator.

"You're an asshole." Sam grumbled, elbowing his brother lightly in the side, but not shrugging off or stepping away from his hold, because it felt so damn good to have Dean back.

The elder Winchester released a good-natured chuckle, pulling the smaller boy closer into his side as he the two entered the elevator and began their decent to the ground floor.

The clinic wasn't far, but Sam was glad to finally have the Impala back. He relaxed into the warn-in passenger seat as he listened to the hum of his brother's cassette tape and the steady pounding of the rain, all while studying the man to his left.

Dean was visibly drained. His shoulders stooped forward as his wrist was resting on the steering wheel, his hand draped loosely over the edge, as though each of his limbs were too tired to function. The lines across his forehead and around his eyes made him look older than his young nineteen years and were more evidence of how depleted Dean truly was. Sam had closely observed the taller hunter's gate on the short walk to the Impala and had studied Dean's slide into the front seat – searching for signs of any pain or physical ailments; thankfully, he hadn't spotted so much as a twitch of discomfort.

Sam had grown up studying his big brother and was confident in his conclusion that there was no injury to be worried about, at least not of a physical nature.

However, the younger boy was easily able to deduce that Dean was mentally and emotionally wounded, his silence being one of the most significant pieces of evidence to prove that fact.

Dean loved hunting, and in their father's month-long absence, Sam had noticed his brother becoming antsy, so much so that he was pretty certain the elder Winchester had been damn near relieved when John summoned him for a hunt. He hadn't been eager to leave Sam, but the younger teen had been left alone many times before and had long since proved he could take care of himself just fine. After most hunts, Dean was practically giddy and with the few Sam was absent for, his big brother was usually eager to share how everything had gone down – though according to their dad, Dean tended to relay an exaggerated version of events. He was only quiet when things had gone wrong. Sam winced when he recalled a hunt years ago that had been egregious enough that Dean had been absolutely wrecked, so much so Sam had feared his big brother wouldn't ever come back emotionally from what he had seen.

Sam had never discovered what happened on that hunt, and he felt as though this one would be the same. Dean would keep all the horror and trauma to himself, to protect his little brother, even if it enhanced his own suffering.

"Did you stop at all on the way back?" Sam asked, staring at the black shadows under the faded green gaze.

Dean shook his head. The younger teen's numeric calculations had told him as much, but he still frowned at the information.

"You should have stopped. That's too long to drive without a break. You've got to be exhausted."

"I just wanted to get back." Dean declared. "Good thing to, if I waited much longer there would be no telling what state you would be in."

"We should have stayed at the apartment. You need sleep. We could have gotten my meds in the morning." Sam stated with a shake of his head, annoyed with himself for not paying closer to attention to what Dean needed.

The driver sent him a side-long glance that was the epitome of unimpressed. "You've already gone way too long without meds, you shouldn't wait any longer, especially not after that little stroll in the rain. What were you doing outside in this weather anyways?"

Sam bit his bottom lip, turning to look out the window into the rainy spring night, knowing he had to be honest, but also unsure of what reaction his brother would have. "I was walking home from work." He admitted, wincing at the hoarseness of his voice and pain radiating up and down his esophagus. He hazarded a glance to his left, observing Dean from beneath the fringe of his bangs.

"Where you working?" The question was terse, but resigned.

"Grocery store."

"Did I not leave you enough money?" The older teen asked, guilt lacing his gruff tone.

"Ofcourse you did, but I didn't want to use it all. I didn't know how long you'd be gone and you left most of what you had, which wouldn't leave us any for when you came back." Sam reasoned, staying calm and logical.

"I would have gotten us more."

Sam nodded, because he knew that. Dean would do everything he could to ensure Sam never went without.

"I know, but I had the extra time. It's not a big deal, I'm just a cashier, it's not hard." It was Sam's first official job and he was happy to accumulate some work experience that he would actually be able to put on a resume one day – hunting supernatural creatures may require more skill but it certainly wasn't something Sam could brag about to future employers. The fourteen-year-old was also more than happy to finally be contributing something significant and was pleased to be able to take at least some of the financial burden off his older brother's shoulders.

"You shouldn't have been working while you're this sick." Dean reprimanded gruffly.

Sam shook his head, restraining the urge to sigh as he rested his fevered head against the cool glass, his illness catching up to him no longer allowing itself to be sidelined by the distraction of Dean's arrival. Sam closed his eyes and tried to breathe without ramping up the pain in his throat. He allowed his mind to be calmed by the fact that he had done what was necessary, and he knew that deep down Dean understood that, but that didn't mean Sam would ever get the man to admit it.

And they all labeled him the stubborn one.

Ha!

They arrived at the clinic a moment later, Dean steering Sam to the front desk with his hands on the boney shoulders. The nurse at the front desk was old and crusty and gave both boys a disapproving looks as they approached.

"Hello Ma'am, my little brother is sick and he needs to see a doctor." Dean announced.

"I'm afraid he needs his parent to accompany him here and sign the correct paperwork before I can allow him to be seen by a physician." She recited.

Sam grimaced, both because he could barely swallow his throat was hurting so bad, and because this poor woman had no idea that she was poking a bear – a mother bear, in fact.

"I'm his guardian. That gives me the right to bring him here and sign any of the damn paperwork." Dean explained curtly, his stance straightening as his body tensed, which Sam could feel as he stood with his back against his brother's chest.

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for that?" The lady bristled, completely unaware of the fury she was about to unleash.

Sam wanted to intervene and disarm the potentially lethal confrontation, but his throat felt like he had chugged acid and just the idea of speaking caused the level of agony to escalate.

"I don't give a fuck what you do. You can look it up if you want to sweetheart, but my brother is seeing a doctor weather your crusty-ass likes it or not." Dean declared, his hands squeezing Sam's shoulders as he pulled him in closer.

After a brief stare-down, the nurse made the wise decision to surrender and the brothers were soon sitting in the waiting area. Dean filled out the clipboard as Sam tried to think of anything other than his inability to swallow or breathe without pain. Once the paperwork was complete and the falsified insurance was recorded, Sam noticed his brother spacing out while he sat slouched in the plastic chair. The older boy nearly fell asleep in the waiting room and again in the exam room as they waited for the doctor.

Sam vowed internally to get his brother home to bed as soon as possible, which was why he scowled at the doctor's desire to run a couple additional tests, but one glare from Dean lead to the younger teen's reluctant cooperation.

The diagnosis wasn't any surprise to Sam, but it certainly pulled Dean's lips down an inch further. The doctor claimed that Sam had a bad case of strep throat (no surprise there), accompanied with dehydration and low blood sugar (because eating and drinking when your esophagus is inflamed, fucking sucks). The boys listened to the necessary instructions and picked up the required meds before heading back to the apartment.

Sam was not the least bit surprised that the moment they entered their rented room, Dean was shoving pills down his throat and water in his hand, as well as demanding that the teen drink every drop of the smoothie they had purchased on the way back. Any illness Sam acquired was always accompanied by a large of dose of Dean's mother-henning.

"We need to go pick you up some Gatorade tomorrow and some yogurt, or anything else soft for you to eat." The elder teenager announced, as he marched around the apartment.

"Sure. Now please get some rest." Sam requested for the seventeenth time. It wasn't that late but Dean had ordered Sam to bed, so that was where he sat as he tried to coax his big brother into doing the same.

Dean had it easier, he could order and boss Sam around all he wanted. Sam was the one who had to go about searching for ways to trick his brother into cooperating, because even for all the shit the youngest Winchester got for having authority issues, Dean was the one who was impossible to instruct.

"And we'll get you some of those lozenges that numb your throat."

"Dean. Please just lay down. You haven't slept in at least thirty hours, probably more. You need rest." Sam reiterated softly, his croaky voice still loud enough to reach his brother's ears, because Dean finally turned and granted the younger boy his focus – pausing the rant he had been going on with since they returned to the room. "Please." Sam added, the crack in the whisper making the plea sound all the more desperate.

Dean studied the boy on the bed for a moment and Sam allowed his hazel eyes to do his bidding, hoping they would accomplish what his voice didn't have the capability to at the moment.

Eventually, the older teen caved. He changed into his sweats and climbed into the left side of the bed, passing out almost before his head hit the pillow.

Sam smirked, his brother sprawled on his stomach with his mouth open, drooling on his pillow, the mighty hunter fast asleep.

"Night De." The smaller boy whispered as he tugged the blankets up and over the weary man's long form.

It was a simple gasp that pulled Sam from dreamland. He opened his eyes and stared at Dean who was sitting up in bed, drinking in gulps of air as he appeared to be working to calm himself.

Dean's nightmares were few and far between, but Sam could still recognize them without issue, and though they were similar to the younger Winchester's, they were to be handled very differently.

Sam waited quietly for the older teenager to regain composure, not making a movement or a sound until Dean's breathing was steady.

"Wanna talk about it?" He croaked softly, already knowing the answer, but never able to resist his need to offer.

"No. I'm good. Sorry for waking you up." Dean dismissed, as his little brother knew he would.

"S'okay." Sam whispered huskily.

"You need a drink or anything?" Dean inquired as he readjusted himself, the offer genuine, though Sam knew the hunter was also searching for any reason to get up and moving.

"Meds?" The younger boy requested wistfully, unable to see the alarm clock on Dean's night stand, but having a hunch it was too early for a top-up.

Dean glanced to his right. "No, sorry kiddo, no more meds or pain pills for another few hours at least."

Sam nodded, his hair sliding against the pillow as he played with the edge of the blanket. He waited for Dean to get situated, but the older boy was still on high alert several minutes later.

"Lie down, Dean." Sam prompted faintly, tugging persistently on his brother's t-shirt.

He sighed loudly but eventually laid back down, this time on his left side, likely only being so willfully cooperative because his body was still massively sleep-deprived. Sam wanted nothing more than to offer words of comfort, but he knew better than that. Dean didn't want verbal reassurance or a "chic-flick moment" he wanted to save face and pretend nothing had happened. That was what he wanted, but Sam knew that regardless of his tough exterior, his big brother still needed comfort. And that was exactly what Sam was going to give him, he just had to do it tactfully so that it wasn't brushed off in embarrassment or offense.

The fourteen-year-old breathed softly and waited quietly until Dean seemed settled, only then did he cautiously shift to the right. He gently slid over until he felt his brother's exhales ghost through his shaggy hair, it was only then that he settled on his right side and gently reached out and grasped the edge of Dean's grey t-shirt, clenching it in his fingers as he closed his eyes. Sam had nearly fallen back asleep before he felt a long arm drape itself across his thin frame.

He woke in the same position, his fingers twisted in his brother's cotton top and the weight of Dean's arm draped over his side. He considered trying to go back to sleep when he remembered what day it was, Easter. Sam carefully wiggled free, stepping silently off the bed and glancing at the clock, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he saw that it was past noon. He had known Dean was exhausted enough to sleep that late, but he hadn't been aware that he was. He smiled as he made his way to the kitchen, excited to prepare his big brother's holiday surprise. He took his meds first, partly because his throat was killing him, but mostly because he didn't want to experience the wrath-of-Dean if his brother woke up and found out Sam had neglected his health.

Because it wasn't like Dean ever did that - Sam thought with a roll of his eyes.

It didn't take long for him to pull out the pie and the whipped cream, he debated for awhile about where to put the colossal chocolate Easter egg. He couldn't decide if it should be in front of the pie or behind it, he realized that either way it was the focus point and placed it in the center of the table. He was eager for his brother to see his surprise, but resisted waking him, knowing that Dean's need for sleep trumped any desire for holiday excitement. Thankfully, Sam didn't have to wait long, about half an hour later Dean's signature I-don't-want-to-get-out-of-bed-don't-you-dare-make-me groan sounded from the bed. Sam shifted restlessly on his chair at the table, picking nervously at the label on the whipped cream bottle. Now that Dean was awake, Sam was beginning to second guess his decision.

Dean was grown, an adult and a badass hunter, on top of that he was going through a lot of shit, and maybe he'd think all this Easter stuff was stupid. Maybe he'd think Sam was just being childish and lame.

"Morning, dork. You take your meds yet?"

The question distracted Sam from his insecurities and he glanced over at Dean, seeing him sitting up in bed, his short hair standing on all ends as he rubbed a hand over his face; Sam twitched a smile at the sight.

Watch as the oh-so-mighty hunter awakens in his natural habitat - he narrated to himself, his grin widening, even as he considered the fact that he may need to lay off watching the Discovery Channel for awhile.

"It's afternoon, actually, jerkface." Sam responded, the retort losing some of its power in the husk of his voice.

Dean's eyebrows popped up as he squinted over at the clock, clearly still groggy from his lengthy slumber.

"Oh shit, look at that." He reacted, dragging himself out of bed, nearly tangling himself in the blankets. "Meds?" He inquired as he lumbered toward the bathroom.

"Yes, Dean." Sam recited, saying it the same way he always did, with the addition of a raspy tone.

Dean nodded his approval before closing the bathroom door. Sam frowned, wondering if his brother had seen the treats on the table and paid them no mind, or if he had failed to notice them in his waking confusion. He sat there in silence second guessing himself, quickly deciding that the holiday surprise was far too childish. Sam stood with the intention of removing all the evidence of his Easter endeavor, but before he had the chance, Dean returned to the room.

"So, I was thinking, that—

Sam froze, his hands hovering over the pie, as Dean's sentence came to an abrupt stop. The younger boy chewed on his bottom lip, staring down at the table, waiting to see what his brother was going to do next, because he knew Dean had caught sight of the treats.

"What's all this?" The elder teen questioned.

Sam looked up, seeing Dean approach the table, his face crinkled in confusion.

"Umm, it's Easter." The smaller boy responded simply.

Dean nodded, clearly he had been aware of the holiday, which shouldn't have surprised Sam because his big brother always kept track of that kind of stuff, not matter what shit was going on.

"So, umm, the Easter Bunny came last night, he left you some treats." Sam lied lamely, quirking a hopeful grin.

Dean's eyebrows climbed halfway up his forehead. "Oh really?"

Sam nodded, taking a step back from the table, his gaze tracking Dean, searching for anything fake in his expression. He wanted to make his big brother happy, he didn't want to be humoured.

"Is that a chocolate pie?" The elder teen asked, genuine enthusiasm in his voice.

Sam grinned, nodding again.

"I didn't know the Easter Bunny could bake."

The younger boy shrugged at the comment, he obviously didn't have an answer for that.

"That egg is insane."

Sam smiled, watching Dean's eyes expand to a comical degree as he stared at the colourfully wrapped chocolate.

"I think I'd have to shoot the rabbit that's big enough to lay that sucker." He commented, with a low whistle.

"You can't hunt the Easter Bunny, Dean." Sam sighed, both exasperated and amused.

"If it's that huge, dude, I might just have to." The hunter declared, dropping into the kitchen chair closest to the pie – go figure.

"I'd like to see you try." Sam shot back with a husky laugh as he sat down next to his brother.

Mock shock took over Dean's expression as he stared at the smaller boy. "You don't think I could take down a bunny? That's just hurtful."

"He's a magical bunny, and apparently he's ginormous." Sam pointed out, gesturing towards the chocolate center piece.

"I'm offended that you think I could be bested by a damn rabbit. You're supposed to have my back, Sam." Dean stated, winking in his little brother's direction as he unpackaged the pie, placing it between them before layering it in whipped cream, and then grabbing a fork for himself and handing one to Sam.

"Well, if I had your back, then we could definitely take down the fluffy-tailed giant." Sam asserted with a smile, stabbing into the delicious dessert.

A wide grin lit Dean's face as he looked over at the floppy-haired teen, he looked truly happy for the first time since returning from the hunt. Sam reflected the joyful look, ecstatic that he had been able to make this holiday good for his big brother.

"Thanks Sammy." Dean said, his husky tone making it clear to the younger boy that he was expressing gratitude for more than his kid brother's backup on the imaginary hunt for the Easter Bunny.

Sam beamed in response, nodding in reply and watching as Dean gleefully dove into his holiday pastry.

He was happy as hell that he was even part of the reason for the smile on his big brother's face. He was content that he had managed to find a way to make Dean feel just a little better.

He wished that he could keep his brother away from all the horrifying things that were out there in the dark.

He wished he could pull the older boy away from the damaging ways of the hunting life.

He wished he could protect his hero from all the emotional pain that tore at him.

He wished he could save Dean from each and every nightmare.

He wished he could make his big brother feel safe, the way he made Sam feel every waking moment of his life.

He wished he could keep that genuine joy-filled smile on the young man's face for every hour of every day.

But he couldn't.

What he could do was provide the kind of comfort Dean needed.

What he could do was relieve some of the burden that his guardian carried.

What he could do was balance out the evil that invaded hero's life with as much good as he could find.

What he could do, what he would always do, was give his big brother everything and anything he had to make his life better – to make him sleep and smile and just fucking breathe for at least a moment.

Because sometimes that was all there was to offer.

A single moment of happiness.

But Sam knew full-well that a sliver of genuine joy had the power to light the darkest of nights.

His big brother had taught him that.

The End (until next Easter)

Note: I am working on so much shit right now it is actually unbelievable. I have the next chapter of A New Kind of Evil coming up soon, after which I will have another oneshot (possibly two-shot), and then the next chapter of More than Enough, followed by the (hopeful)completion of Frostbite. Then there is a foster care story - which will be my next long multi-chapter fic, as well as an AU story I really want to write. On top of all that, there are a few more chapters of The Simple Things and an additional instalment of All There Was to Give that I am really itching to nail down. And I don't even want to think about the number of episode tags I want to write. I have a lot to do and not nearly enough time to do them all in. I promise I will keep plugging away at it all. If you want me to write faster feel free to send me money so I can quit one of my jobs ;) jk! Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review/comment if you have a moment, they honestly mean so much to me. - Sam.