Chapter 3

After a while, the silent sobs lost intensity and the tears began to dry, signaling that the storm was almost over. Dean was left shivering violently against his brother, so exhausted that even lifting his head off of Sam's chest was a daunting task. He didn't want to sleep, though. No, actually, he never wanted to sleep again. Ever.

"S-Sam?" Dean whispered, his throat raw.

"Yes?" Sam responded quietly.

"C-Can you get me some c-c-coffee?"

It was silent as Sam processed Dean's question. "Dean, it's three in the morning… if you drink coffee now, you'll be up all night."

"Please, Sam," Dean whispered, still shaking. "I… I don't w-want to go to s-sleep again…"

Sam sighed. He knew this was going to happen; there was no way Dean would want to go back to sleep and take the chance of reliving his nightmares again. And Sam couldn't blame him.

But Sam knew that Dean needed to sleep. He would be miserable and exhausted the next day, and they had a lot of driving to do.

"Dean…" Sam said softly. "You need sleep… I know you don't want to, but you're going to be miserable tomorrow–"

"I don't care," Dean said, his voice stronger but still laced with exhaustion. "I don't c-care if I'm tired tomorrow, I c-can't go to sleep, I don't want to–"

"Okay, shh, shh," Sam said, shushing his brother when his voice started to get hysterical. "I'll get you coffee."

Dean didn't say anything as Sam gently removed Dean's shaking hands from his shirt and stood up, walking over to the tiny kitchen and making a pot of coffee. Dean sat against the wall, his head bowed and eyes closed. He was still shivering, but the panic was finally beginning to dissipate.

As the coffee was brewing, Sam watched his older brother from across the room. He watched as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling. He had never seen Dean look so hopeless and vulnerable in his life.

Sam was unsure of what to do. His brother was always so strong, so hard, so impersonal… it was so strange seeing him just break down and sob.

I can't blame him, Sam thought as he searched for something to put the coffee in. He just had to relive my death… I would probably go insane if I saw my brother die and was helpless to do anything.

With a jolt, Sam realized that he would probably be in the exact same position in about a month, when his brother goes to Hell.

Don't think about it, Sam scolded himself. Help your brother with his problems now, worry about what's going to happen in a month later.

Sam finally found a mug and poured the coffee in it, watching the dark liquid escape the pot and enter the mug. He picked up the mug and brought it over to his brother, sitting down on the carpet in front of him and putting it in his shaking hands. Dean brought it up to his lips and drank, the liquid burning his mouth and throat.

His hands were shaking so violently that some of the coffee sloshed out of the mug and fell onto Dean's pajama pants.

He tried to focus on the taste of the coffee instead of the whirlwind of thoughts swirling around in his head.

You should have been faster. You should have stopped it from happening.

Dean drank the coffee faster and shut his eyes.

You shouldn't have stopped to eat. You shouldn't have slept so late.

He drank even faster.

You should have run to him when you got there instead of staring at him like an idiot. You should have protected him.

He was now positively chugging the coffee now, not caring about the temperature of the drink or the fact that it was burning his mouth and throat.

"Dean, stop! You're going to burn your mouth!"

Dean didn't stop.

He's your little brother. It was your job to protect him. You should have protected him.

He downed the rest of the coffee and then put the mug down. He clutched his throat, which felt like he had swallowed a match. He groaned… maybe chugging the coffee was a bad idea.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked, concern and confusion on his face.

"Y-Yes," Dean choked out, still grabbing his throat. "M'fine."

"Did you burn your throat?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded as a brutal shiver ripped through him. Somehow, the scalding coffee that he just drank did nothing to stop the shaking.

Sam immediately stood up, grabbed the thickest blanket he could find from the bed, walked back over to his brother, and draped it around his shaking shoulders.

"T-Thank you," Dean whispered, pulling the blanket tightly around himself.

"You're welcome," Sam said quietly.

Dean smiled slightly, then yawned.

Sam frowned. "Dean, can you at least try and sleep?"

Dean shook his head, looking like a six year old who wanted to stay up past his bedtime to watch his favorite cartoon.

Sam sighed. "Dean—"

"I'm not going to sleep, Sammy," Dean said, his voice strong. Sam's frown deepened and Dean sighed. "You can go to bed, you know. No one's making you stay up with me."

"I'm not going to leave you alone with your thoughts, Dean," Sam said, setting his mouth in a stubborn line. "I'm not going to bed unless you do."

"Sam, I'm not six—"

"Well, Dean, you just had two panic attacks, and you are shivering like it's the middle of January," Sam said, creasing his eyebrows. "So I think that warrants my concern."

Dean rolled his eyes at his ridiculous brother, but then noticed the dark circles under his determined eyes, and softened immediately. Sam looked exhausted… they hadn't slept more than a few hours in the last couple of days and Dean didn't want to be the one who kept him up all night just because he refused to sleep.

"Sam… please get s-some s-sleep," Dean said as another violent shiver ripped through him, jarring his speech slightly. "Don't stay up on my account. I'll be fine… honestly."

Dean knew he wasn't going to convince his brother that he would be okay before he even finished his sentence. Hell, he didn't even convince himself.

Sam made a face. "I think your definition of 'fine' differs from mine, Dean. No, I'm staying up if you are."

Dean shut his eyes briefly, wishing Sam wasn't so stubborn.

"Fine," Dean said, giving in. "I'll attempt to sleep, as long as you go to bed too."

Sam perked up, smiling slightly ,at the fact that he convinced his brother. Dean rolled his eyes.

"It's almost like you want me to suffer," Dean grumbled, slightly irritated at how happy his brother was. "I hope you realize that sleeping and reliving those dreams again is going to cause me more pain than exhaustion will."

Sam's smile vanished, his expression changing to one of guilt. Dean immediately regret his words, and sighed. "It's fine. I'll go."

"Dean, I don't want to cause you any more emotional pain—"

"I'll be f-f-fine, S-S-Sam, h-honestly," Dean said, another shiver shaking him. He stood up, but the second he straightened his legs, his knees gave out.

"Whoa," Sam said, immediately catching his brother before he could fall to the ground. Dean's knees were shaking violently and he couldn't hold himself upright.

"Goddammit," Dean muttered, unable to stop his knees from wobbling. "This is embarrassing."

Sam led him over to the bed and he got down on it. He got under the covers and put his head down on the uncomfortable pillows. Sam turned the light off and then got into his bed, the springs on the mattress squeaking under his weight.

Silence filled the room, and Dean stared up at the ceiling. He was starting to feel slightly anxious again, and he wished everything would just disappear.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly, his voice breaking the silence.

"Yeah?"

"Will… Will you be okay?"

Dean sighed.

"I hope so, Sammy."

~End Chapter 3~