Standard disclaimer of non-ownership.

Set between "Bloody Mary" and "Skin".

Nighttime Musings

Sam was asleep…finally. Dean had stayed in the room long enough to know that it was a restful sleep, and he hoped that the nightmares that plagued Sam would just stay away for one night. When he was satisfied, he left the small cabin that they were sharing and sat on the floor against the outer wall. Of course he made sure that he could rush back into the room quickly if he needed to. He just didn't want to need to. He leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall and let his thoughts wonder.

Dean hadn't seen his brother in a long time. Their first job together since Sam's collegiate departure was a relief. Although Dean loved working with his father, there was something to be said about working with his brother. Maybe it was partially because he was in charge, he knew more, and he was being turned to for guidance.

But ever since Jessica's unfortunate demise, Dean wondered if he was going to lose his brother. They talked to the point where Dean was comfortable enough with Sam going out into the field and not needed to "hold his hand" (he wouldn't literally, too chick-flicky). He knew that Sam would keep it together and not be a liability when it counted. But when they weren't on a hunt, Dean worried.

He didn't like the silences or the looks; he really didn't like the constant need to check up on his Sammy.

Seeing the blood coming from Sam's eyes scared Dean like only one other thing could.

Dean may not have made it college, but he's quite smart. He knows that Sam is slowly slipping away from him. Sam's slowly being consumed by anger, revenge, fear…he doesn't…he can't see what he's doing to his older brother.

Dean's greatest fear is losing Sam. He's already lost his mother, and although he'll never voice it, in his heart he realizes that he's most likely also lost his father. Sam will never know that if he slips away and becomes lost to Dean, there will be nothing to keep the older brother going. Without his Sammy, Dean has no reason to hope, to fight, to live.

He heard movement from inside the cabin and cocked his head to listen. Sam was up and walking around, probably looking for his brother. The door slowly opened and Dean watched Sam step outside.

"Dean?" Sam called, not noticing his brother sitting by the door.

"Down here," Dean answered, quietly.

Sam turned slightly, looking down and seeing his brother sitting on the floor.

"What are you doing out there in the middle of the night?"

"Couldn't sleep, figured the fresh air would do me some good."

Sam arches his eyebrows, he doesn't quite believe his brother, but says nothing. If he wanted to be able to keep his own secrets, he knew that Dean should be able to keep his own.

Sam shook his head, and said, "Gah, let's get back inside. I've got better things to do than turn into a Popsicle."

Dean smirked, "Like what?"

Sam extended a hand, which Dean grabbed. Once on his feet, Dean followed his brother into the cabin.

"Like find Dad and whatever killed Jess."

"We will," Dean replied, climbing back into bed.

He allowed himself a moment to revel in the warmth of his bed and the quilt over his body. He sprawled himself out on his back, his hands clasped behind his head. He stared up into the darkness, his ears tuned into the sounds of Sam's steady breathing.

"We'll find him, Sammy. And I'll save you. I have to," Dean whispered to no one in particular before closing his eyes.

Sam turned onto his side, facing his brother. He wondered what exactly Dean had meant.