A/N: Even the 'Prophet Chuck' said the drinking blood was wrong. You hear that Sam? Sammy?... No, of course not…I blame Sam for why this is a little depressing.
Disclaimer: I'm writing about myself wishing that I owned Supernatural, while sitting at my computer, writing, wishing I owned Supernatural… Dean's right, my head hurts..
"But why did Charlotte have to die, Dean?" The 7-year-old pressed close, tousled head on his brother's shoulder, fingers tracing creases along the storybook cover.
"Spiders just don't live very long, kiddo. I'm sure she held on as long as she could." A lip quiver was all it took for Dean to wrap his arms around Sammy. "But you know what I like about her? Charlotte was there for as long as Wilbur needed her, and she didn't let go until she knew everyone she loved was safe."
"Will you ever have to go away like that?" A small, quiet voice.
"Not as long as you need me." Dean met his eyes, confident in this big brother promise. Sammy's smile was sunshine in the nighttime bedroom.
"Then I'll make sure I always need you."
Tremors shook Sam's hands as the call disconnected. It had been nearly a week, though Ruby never denied him when he asked-she understood. Now if only he could get Dean too.
He looked mournfully at his sleeping brother once before shutting the door.
Unbeknownst to him, as Sam turned away from the motel, his left boot tread upon a tiny spider.