It was after a particularly bad fight.

Their father had just grabbed his coat and headed for the door, tossing an "I'm going to go save people lives" over his shoulder.

Dean stood silently between the two motel beds. His worried eyes fixed on his little brother. He had wanted to stop the fight, even tried a few times, but none of his pleas had silenced them.

It killed him to watch the two people he loved most hurt each other. But Dean did what he could, he comforted Sammy afterwards. Offering him a shoulder that Sam always took.

Sam always came to him after each fight, laid his head on his lap and cried. He'd always whispered his anger…his hurt, his pain and right before he'd fall asleep on his brother he'd always whisper a thank you. It made Dean feel better; knowing that he'd helped, even a little.

"Sammy, come lay down." Dean sat on one of the cheap mattresses then patted the spot beside him.

Sam turned, his eyes fixed to his brother.

Dean flinched as he caught his brother's eyes on him. They were empty of all but one emotion, Pity.

"I'm going out."

Sam grabbed for his jacket, headed for the door, just like their father…. and then disappeared into the night.

It's only hours later, hours of Dean laying in the old bed alone does he realize why he's always so eager to comfort Sam. He thrives, lives off, Sam's every breath. He needs Sam to heal himself after those fights. Every word they scream at each other breaks him….and the only way he can heal is holding Sam's body against his. Knowing that it was worth it.

But Sam's gone now, and Dean has a feeling he won't be back.

It's years until Dean gets to pull their bodies together and comfort him again.

It's years until tanned flesh presses against pale skin and Dean is with his brother again. It's years since Dean realize he doesn't care why Sam needs him or why he needs Sam…so long as they do.