Help Me Help You
K Hanna Korossy

"Thought I heard you in here."

Sam looked up guiltily from the half-empty glass he'd been contemplating and gave his brother in the kitchen doorway a wan smile. "Yeah…that burger wasn't exactly…" He trailed off, not needing to tell Dean how nauseated meat—and most other food—made him since he'd started the Trials.

From Dean's look, his brother knew anyway, but it was played off with a nod at Sam's glass and a smirk. "So you decided to fill up on water instead."

"No, I just…" couldn't sleep, either, another place he didn't want to go with Dean. Sam straightened, tipping his head at his brother's robe. "Why are you up?"

"Midnight snack," Dean said, heading for the fridge.

Sam glanced at his watch. Three thirty-three. Not like they kept regular hours anyway. He took another sip of water to head off a building cough.

"How 'bout a soft-boiled egg, sound good?" Even as Sam opened his mouth, Dean nodded to himself. "Sounds good." He pulled a pot out without having to look for it and started filling it with water. Sam still had to think which corridor the bathroom was in, but Dean already had the kitchen down pat.

Sam shifted in his seat, feeling the bruises he'd gotten from Zeus—freakin' Zeus—and the far deeper ache in his bones that spoke of something more fundamentally wrong with him. He regretted now his Pollyanna speech to his brother about surviving the Trials and dragging Dean along with him to the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, he should've been encouraging Dean that he could get there alone…just in case Sam didn't make it out with him.

"Oh, and get a load of this." Dean was back at the refrigerator, and he held up a loaf. "Toasting bread. It's bread made just for toasting." He looked positively tickled by the idea.

"Huh. Best thing since sliced bread," Sam said dryly.

"Right? I'm gonna toast some. One or two for you? Two," Dean answered for him again, opening the bag.

Sam's smile slipped. Soft-boiled eggs and toast: Dean's "nauseated little brother" diet. He knew.

Prometheus had died without hesitation for his son, and to put an end to his own curse. Zeus had been killed by his daughter. John Winchester had also given his life for his son, as had his wife. Bobby and Ellen and Jo had died trying to save the world, Rufus and Caleb and Pastor Jim for far less. Giving up your life to close Hell forever? That was nothing.

"Got some ginger tea, too—box says it's good for delicate princesses like you."

Sam stirred back to the present, the refusal on the tip of his tongue; eggs and toast and tea wouldn't help anything. But…

He'd just been passing Dean's room, on the way to the shower after they got back. Slowing when he heard his brother's voice.

"…it's gonna bring for Sam. Now, he's covering pretty good…" A peek through the cracked-open door revealed Dean was looking upward, not on his phone. Praying? "…but I know that he's hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me. So, for all that we've been through…" Addressing Castiel, Sam thought. "I'm asking you… You keep a lookout for my little brother, okay?" Begging. For Sam.

Silently, he'd crept away before Dean noticed him, his eyes prickling.

Something nudged his elbow. Sam blinked, startling as a tray full of food slid in front of him. Thick, lightly buttered toast, two warm eggs already peeled, and a steaming cup of pale tea. And above it, the hopeful face of his brother.

You keep a lookout for my little brother, okay?

Okay, yeah, Sam had his doubts. But Dean needed this. Needed him.

And Sam still believed in his big brother.

He cleared his throat. "It, uh…it looks good, thanks."

The smile he mustered to go with wasn't even a lie.

The End