Back to Stanford

Dean moved his hand back down to where it was before, "You came back as soon as you could," Dean said, his voice low as he spoke into Sam's ear, "You couldn't have known that was going to happen, it was just bad luck." Dean was unsure if luck had anything to do with it. This thing, whatever it was seemed to have some sort of vendetta against their family. Still, it wasn't like it was Sam's fault that evil followed their family around.

Sam's sobs seemed to have subsided for now, to Dean's relief, but he wasn't planning on going anywhere. Not when Sam needed him. He was obviously still upset.

Sam didn't reply, thinking over Dean's words. If he knew the whole truth... if he knew that Sam had dreamt it before it was going to happen... He could have stopped it. He could have stopped her dying if he hadn't just thought it was a bad dream... he could have saved her. Or was Dean right? Was it just simply meant to be? Like all the other confusing and weirdo stuff that had been happening to them all their lives.

"Is this it now? Forever?" He was referring to hunting. If they couldn't have any relationships with anyone... then this was all they had and all they ever would have.

"Yeah, till we kill that son of bitch," Dean murmured a little fiercely, though he regretted saying that. Would it really be? Should it be? If Sam wanted out after this, then surely he shouldn't feel himself under an obligation to stay. "Unless you don't want to," he amended, it was Sam's choice to make on whether he stayed in this. Not his.

Dean rested his head against the pillow, and he could feel Sam's hair in his face, which desperately needed a haircut. His death grip on Sam hadn't loosened any, though Sam wasn't complaining yet.

"No." said Sam. "No, we've got to." It was as simple as that, though a lot more complicated than it sounded. This dad was probably going after it right now, trying to kill it. But he definitely wasn't finished with it. They knew that much at least...

He accidentally let out another sob. He would be okay after a few days... but for now he was devastated.

At the sound of Sam letting out another sob Dean pushed his face off the pillow, letting go of Sam momentarily to climb to the other side of the bed. He hated this, not being able to make Sam feel better, not being able to do anything to sort this out. He pulled Sam back in, wrapping his arms around him. He kept his face back a little so he could see Sam's expression.

"Shh, Sam," he murmered, one of his hands going to Sam's hair, stroking through it, trying to calm him down, "We don't have to do anything."

Sam held on tightly to Dean - he couldn't help it. He was so lost, so guilt ridden and heart-broken... and Dean was offering his comfort. He couldn't just refuse. Both of them knew he needed it.

Maybe they wouldn't have to do anything right now, but they would. They had to stop it killing anyone else they might know. What if it started going after all of Sam's friends from college next? Jess' friends? Jess' family? Their Dad?

...Dean?

Sam subconsciously hugged Dean tighter. That monster wasn't going to take away his big brother.

Dean could feel Sam's grip around him tightening, and he responded by pulling Sam closer. His hand was still at the back of Sam's head, pushing it closer to him. It really was the two of them against the world now. Dad was missing, Jess was dead. There was no one left for them, apart from each other. Dean closed his eyes, his face resting against the top of Sam's head. He had to protect Sam from whatever it was. It may have taken everyone else, but it wasn't going to take his little brother.

"It's going to be alright," he whispered, half reassuring Sam, and half reassuring himself. It had to be. He couldn't bear it if something happened to Sam now.

Sam tried to believe him. Dean, after all, was intent on looking after Sam - just like John had always told him to watch out for him when they were kids.

He looked up at Dean with his tear stained face. "Love you, man." he said, smiling slightly, knowing that Dean would now make some kind of comment on how 'no wonder people think we're together'. People seemed to mistake that way too often...

"Love you too," Dean said, smiling back. For once he couldn't quite gather himself together enough for sarcasm. Sarcasm was his usual defence mechanism against situations like this, but with Sam so... with Jess's death being so raw he couldn't do it. He just wanted, needed Sam to be happy again. Not like this. He felt a wave of protectiveness come over him at the admission.

Dean moved his hand from Sam's head to wipe at the tears on his face with the side of his palm. His hand was a little shaky, and when he was done he let it rest there, against Sam's cheek.

I was the second time recently that they had ended up going all mushy over each other. Maybe it was because they hadn't seen each other in a while and had actually... yes, actually missed each other.

He didn't try to remove the hand that was on his cheek but was certainly questioning Dean's mind. "Um..." he said, as his eyed looked sideways at Dean's hand. "Not that I don't mind the comfort but... Dude, when did we go gay?"

Dean followed his brothers gaze and noticed that his hand was still on Sam's cheek. Yeah, his brother had a point. It definitley looked a bit gay. Dean moved his hand away, looking at a spot on the wall behind Sam, his expression sheepish.

"Who are you calling gay?" Dean asked, a little defensively, "Not my fault that you started acting like a girl on me."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "I thought it was 'my thing'." he quoted, recalling once when Dean had said that acting like a girl was his thing, and then saying how being the chick magnet was his. Of course...

That had been an entirely different time, though, before college. His smile faded.

"Looks like it still is," Dean said, looking back at Sam, smiling fondly, until he noticed his brothers smile fade. Had them talking triggered the memories of Jessica to come to the surface again, or was it something else? He hoped it was something else. It would be less painful for Sam if he kept him distracted, kept her death that had happened about an hour or so ago off of his mind, though he was all to aware that keeping his mind off of her would not last forever.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean touched Sam on the arm with the hand that was previously on his cheek. Hopefully that would be a little less inappropriate. "What you thinking about?"

"How whenever you call me 'Sammy' it used to annoy the crap out of me." Sam thought up on the spot. "You know, I think it still does."

He hoped Dean would back off, realising that Sam wanted to stay strictly off the subject now - the one he wanted to avoid.

Looked like it probably was about Jess then. Still, if Sam wanted to evade the topic, then Sam could evade the topic, he wasn't going to try and stop him.

"Sure it does," Dean smirked, going along with it. Sam knew just as well as him that he was never going to drop the nickname that Sam detested, or claimed to anyway, even if that was not what this was really about. Dad still referred to him as that if he ever came up in their phone calls. Well, he used to call Sam that, until he went missing.

Sam was tired now. He stifled a yawn, actually debating for a minute if he would tell Dean to get back to his own bed before they ended up falling asleep in the same bad. He could imagine the next morning. Awkward...

He shut his eyes for a long moment. It was actually quite comfortable... a bit too comfortable for his liking. "Were you going to go back to your own bed?" he muttered.

"Nah, I'm good here," Dean answered, the end of his lips quirking up into a amused half-smile. His legs had fallen asleep, and the remaining arm that was still wrapped around Sam had gone numb from the weight of his brother, though other then that he was pretty comfortable here. Not to mention how amusing it was to make Sam feel uncomfortable.

He did admittedly have an ulterior motive. When Sam got to sleep, which was probably going to be soon, seeing as before he spoke he looked like he could have drifted off, he was probably going to have more of those nightmares. They had been bad the last few nights, and they were probably going to be even worse now that Jessica was dead.

Sam sighed, half amused, half annoyed that Dean was being all stubborn. Though he didn't want to make it look like he was glad to have a hug with his brother so he had to keep up some façade.

"Fine." he mumbled. "I'll go sleep in your bed then." He then, made no effort to move at all, shutting his eyes. He was tired. Probably from everything that had happened in the past few days... like the hypothermia being one of them.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean mumbled, not moving to let go of Sam. He didn't seem to be moving anyway, so he probably wasn't going anywhere. Dean could feel his own eyelids starting to droop, so he was probably going to drift off soon as well.

He was glad that Sam hadn't gone, not that he would admit it. He kind of liked this, despite not usually being one for all that physical affection crap. His lips curved into a soft smile, as his eyes focused on his little brother. Even with everyone else gone he still had Sam.

Sam slowly started to drift off when he felt something uncomfortable in the pocket of the jeans Dean had lent him. He put his hand in the pocket and bought out a handful of M&Ms. "Dude!" he groaned, irritated. Only Dean would leave that in there. They didn't look good either. Like they had been there a long time... How long had he kept that pair of jeans without washing them?

"What?" Dean grumbled, forcing his eyes open to glare at Sam. He'd been so close to sleep, only to be woken up by Sam complaining and shifting about beside him. He looked down to where Sam was looking. Ah. He'd forgotten that he put them there. Still, the bag had split, and there weren't many left, so where else was he meant to put them? He hardly ever wore those jeans anyway, they were far to big for him.

He closed his eyes again. He couldn't be bothered to argue over a handful of M&Ms. "Just go to sleep," he mumbled sleepily, "Throw them off the edge of the bed or something."

Sam considered throwing them at Dean but he would just get all pissy and they would be all over Sam's bed, anyway. So he glanced sideways at Dean's bed and then threw them over there. Dean really needed to be more tidy... and actually wash his clothes on a regular basis.

Sure, Sam hadn't been on the road in a while because of college, but he had to have found time to wash his clothes... He would definitely have to buy more the next day. He hated the thought of Dean lending him more clothes.

Dean cracked an eye open, just in time to see Sam throw the M&Ms at his bed. Good job he had only booked the motel for a night. Those M&Ms didn't look good, and the bed would probably be disgusting tomorrow, especially as it was next to the radiator, and the chocolate would probably melt.

"Did you just-?" Dean looked back to Sam, glaring, though it didn't really have any feeling behind it, "Bitch."

Sam smirked, shutting his eyes again. "Jerk." he replied. It was what they usually called each other, not that they ever meant it, of course.

He was actually starting to properly drift off now, hoping that his brother would do things to him while he was sleeping again. He could still remember the last time a few days ago. That hadn't been nice of him. At least now, though, you couldn't even see the pen marks on his face.

The thought of possible nightmares hadn't even crossed his mind.

Looked like Sam was beginning to fall asleep. Shortly after their exchange of good natured insults Sam's eyes closed. He would probably be asleep soon.

Dean bit back a yawn, his eyes drooping shut. He was so tired. Driving practically all day, not enough sleep the night before and then Jessica dying. Definitely not a good day, one of his worst probably. It was up there with their Mom dying for sure.

"Night Sammy," he murmured, smiling faintly as he felt sleep approaching.