a/n: Heheh, those of you who're waiting patiently for an update on Watching the Lamb are gonna have to bear with me for a couple more weeks. Did I mention I hate the holidays? I'm currently taking the proverbial long walk on a short pier. The story isn't abandoned, though, and I should have much more time to cope with it in another week or two. Thanks for being so sweet.
a/n2: Written for a double drabble competition on a certain message board. At least three people voted for it who weren't me. Sigh.
"Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?" Sam asks, eyes taunting, amused.
Dean knows the answer, or at least, he did, once. There was a time he'd have said, "I'm the guy who's gonna kick your ass," then lunged in for the tackle.
This time, he opens his mouth and is surprised by the strangled choke that comes out, but not too surprised to disguise it as a laugh. He's gotten good at disguises, in time.
His answer, this time, is a sparkling sideways glance at no one, a practiced eyebrow cock, just enough wrinkle to his eyes, just enough tooth to his grin.
Don't really know. Was kinda hopin' you'd tell me.
It's taking time, after four years of silence, for Sam to hear his brother again. He hears the ducking glance, the blown-glass gleam in Dean's too-bright eyes, and thinks Dean should know better than to build his walls of glass.
It's been awhile, but Sam hears.
Anything you need me to be, little brother, just please don't leave.
Sam answers with a giant hand on one tense shoulder and a brotherly shove.
I miss you. Come back.
'Please' is understood.