NO NEED FOR WORDS
A SUPERNATURAL ONE SHOT
Tag to Episode Red Sky at Morning.
Sam turned angrily in his seat, "I don't want you to worry about me. Dean. I want you to worry about you. I want you to care that you're dying!"
Dean stared stoically ahead.
"That's it? you don't have anything else to say for yourself?"
"I think I might try craps" Dean said, staring at the road ahead, avoiding Sammy's eyes.
Later that night...
Sam sighs frustratingly as he tosses and turns in the lumpy bed at yet another motel in yet another shithole place on the side of yet another highway.
Dean lies perfectly still, mind turning over and over again the last words Sam had spoken to him that night.
"No, Dean. If you're going to just say how it's your job, how you're supposed to worry about me, I don't want to hear about it." Sam said angrily from his bed.
Dean lay still for a long moment before turning towards his brother. His only family.
"Sam" he implored again.
Sam flipped angrily onto his side to face his brother, muttering "What?" acidly as he did so.
What he saw when he turned, however, made him desperately want to take back his words.
Dean was staring at him with desperate, shining eyes. 'Is he cyring?' Sam thought absently as his eyes locked onto his brother.
"I don't know how" Dean whispered, almost fearfully and so quiet Sam barely heard as he leant closer, noting how his brother's eyes shone with grief and pain and desperation.
"How to what, Dean?" Sam asked, the anger gone from his voice, replaced by gentle concern.
"I- " Dean's breath hitched and he tried to steady himself before continuing. He was beginning to feel sick. "I don't, I can't, I - I never had to-"
Suddenly what Dean is trying to say becomes glaringly obvious to Sam.
'Damn' he thinks to himself.
Before he can speak to Dean, however, his older brother rushes upwards and stumbles quickly towards the tiny bathroom.
As Sam propels himself forwards he hears violent retching coming from behind the small door.
Knocking quietly he calls "Dean?" only to recieve nothing but more retching sounds as a reply.
He silently opens the door, revealing a pale, shaking form, covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the exertion of throwing up nothing.
The infallible, indestructible, devil-may-care real-life, honest to goodness hero who always fixed everything.
Who was slowly falling apart.
"Dean" Sam said simply, voice carrying the guilt of all those years everyone had placed their burdens on his brother, beginning with the father placing his care on the slight shoulders of his eldest, four year old son.
Sam knew now what Dean had tried to tell him. He'd never been given the opportunity to worry about himself. Since the tender age of four his single directive was to take care of his family. 'Look after Sammy'. There wasn't room for Dean.
He slipped down next to his saviour, who was clinging to the toilet bowl like a life ring in a violent storm out at sea, the only anchor to an ever-changing, violent life.
Sam held the damp washcloth he'd prepared against his brother's forehead and slowly wiped it down, pausing two or three times to carefully rinse the cloth before returning to the soothing motion of wiping away the sweat and tears that had accumulated on his brother's face.
"Dean" Sam implored gently, grasping his brother's face and turning it towards him. What he saw almost broke his heart.
Dean shuddered and shivered and Sam pulled him sideways so he had hold of his brother, his life line in the storm that was their life.
No more words were exchanged that night as they sat on the bathroom floor of yet another motel in yet another shithole on the side of yet another highway.
They didn't need them anymore.
After all, they had each other.
A/N: So, reviews? Pretty please? Let me know what you think.