Disclaimer: Not my characters – I'm just too lazy to think up my own!
A/N: Me and my angst obsession … hehe.
It was a sunny morning in some random little American tow. The town, however, was unimportant, as was its occupants. What was important, though, was there men - John and his two grown sons, Sam and Dean.
So, in the random town was a set of cabins for rent. Cabin 24 was currently messy with papers, books and print-offs. Amongst this, John was making calls on his cell. Dean was sorting through books and taking notes, and Sam was researching on his laptop. Just as John hung up from another unsuccessful pry for knowledge, Sam stood up, moodily grabbed a drink from the kitchen and flopped onto the double bed he'd been sleeping on. Dean looked at him.
"Sam, what are you doing?"
"My eyeballs are going to explode if I have to look at that screen a second longer." he mumbled, his hands over his eyes.
"Well that's too bad, Sam!"
"Dean -" John cut in.
"No, we need to figure this out. He's being selfish!" Dean exclaimed.
"Dean, give your brother a break. We're all tired. And watch your tone." John said, looking for the next number to dial.
Sam ignored them both. Along with the late night studying all of them bad been involved in, Sam has again been suffering nightmares ... and no, not visions ... just every day nightmares. Unfortunately for Sam, they had been very emotionally draining.
Dean scowled. "Well it's his fault for his anyway ..." he mumbled.
Before John could react, Sam sat up on the bed. He looked a Dean who stared straight back despite the instant tears in Sams eyes.
"Excuse me?" he said.
"You heard," Dean said, "Mum, Jess .. it wouldn't have happened if that demon didn't want you."
Sam stared for a moment, then stood up. Dean continued reading as Sam headed for the door.
"Sam -" John started.
Sam was gone.
John looked at Dean for a moment.
"What the hell was that?" John asked, danger in his voice.
"What? It's true, isn't it?"
"It doesn't mean he's to blame! You're usually the one to tell him otherwise. And you know as well as I do that he hasn't been sleeping! Something is bothering him. He doesn't need this, what he needs is a little support from his brother!" John said, now on his feet.
Dean didn't say anything.
"Think about this, son." John said softly. "How often do you and Sam argue?"
"I don't know, all the time."
"And how often do you tell Sam you love him?"
Dean stared. "What? Never, not since we were kids."
John raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, come off it. He's my brother, he knows I care."
"He does? It doesn't seem like it, Dean. Especially if that's how you talk to him. Now, you're going to go find him. Don't come back until you're both smiling."
HALF AN HOUR LATER
Sam was still sitting in the park of that random little town, a large take-away coffee in his hand. The tears on his cheeks were slowly drying.
Suddenly, someone sat beside him. Sam looked up; It was Dean. Before Sam could speak, Dean took the coffee from his hands and took a long sip. He went to pass it back, but Sam shook his head. Dean sat it on the ground at his feet.
"Look, Sammy, I didn't mean what I said back there." Dean stammered.
"Of course you did, why else would you sat it," Sam said without looking up.
"Aw, c'mon Sam! We're all tired and moody! I didn't mean it and - I'm - I'm sorry."
Sam shook his head again.
"Mum ... Jess ... You ..." he said, hating himself for the way his voice wavered.
"Hey, I haven't been hurt yet ... and I'm not pregnant either." Dean said, smiling a little.
"No, that's not what I meant. The nightmares ... I've been having nightmares about mum and Jess. They said exactly what you did. If that demon didn't want me, it wouldn't have killed them"
"Sam, I -" He stopped. What could he say?
"I've been thinking ... can I hear messages from the dead?" Sam said, finally voicing what was on his mind.
"What? They're just nightmares, Sam!"
"Well, it's not that impossible! I have visions, don't I?"
Dean looked at Sam. His bloodshot, tired eyes, his tear stained face - he looked like shit. He now understood just how much he's hurt his brother.
"Look, Sammy ... mum loved you, Jess loved you -" he paused. "They know was well as I do that it isn't your fault. Sam I ... I love you," Dean said awkwardly. Sam looked up in pure shock, his hurt temporarily forgotten.
"Excuse me?" he said.
"Come on, Sam, it's not that much of a shock. I save your ass all the time, it's not because I hate you" Dean said, blushing and wishing he could drop dead right there.
Sam looked away, "Oh, there it is."
"That sarcasm. No remotely touchy subject passes without it. Not with you."
Dean groaned. "Come on, man, you think this is easy for me?"
Sam said nothing and Dean sighed.
"Look, I said it Sam, and I meant it. You're my brother."
Sam took a long, shuddering breath, and it was then that Dean realised - Sam was crying.
"I love you too, man."
HALF AN HOUR LATER
Dean opened the door to the cabin, laughing.
"No way! You actually did it?"
"Yeah, Jess wouldn't leave me alone until I did!" Sam said, following Dean through the door.
"Wow, Sammy's a little dance-floor diva!" Dean said, laughing harder. "I can't believe you let her teach you the ketchup dance."
"You're back." John said. He was on Sams laptop at the dinning table.
"Yeah," Sam said, his smile fading.
"Well, get back to work." he said, "because we're hitting the bar in an hour."
All three of them smiled.
As they worked, John watched his boys. As he talked on the phone, Dean kept sending his brother protective glances, but he smiled every time Sam caught him. Sam, dispite the red, puffy eyes and the tear streaked cheeks, seemed of lighter heart. John smiled. He was proud of his boys, for dropping their own pride and opening up.