The Brink of Madness
Make Everything Okay
Dean looked attentively at his little brother, noticing that his body was physically trembling uncontrollably as if an electrical current was flowing through his veins. He felt Sam pull slightly away as if he were attempting to regain some control, focus on the here and now.
"Dean?" Sam whispered sluggishly as his shaky hand rubbed unconsciously at his damp eyes, the tears diminishing as he looked dazedly around the room.
Dean moved one hand to tug Sam's face up to look at him. "Yeah, Sammy, I'm right here, not going anywhere…"
"I saw…was that…did you see…" Sam frowned. Confused words tumbled across his lips as his eyes widened and he stared at Dean with the fearful face of a five year old.
The older brother pulled him close again and simply held on tighter.
"What Sammy, what did you see?" Dean voice was gentle and heavy with concern.
"I…I...saw," and Sam paused to drag in an unsteady breath, renewed tears brimming in his bloodshot eyes and dribbling slowly down his face.
Dean felt the shudder as it raced through Sam's lax limbs, his brother's head rolling to lie against the crook of his neck, dampness oozing in against his own flimsy shirt as the younger man succumbed to his grief and cried.
"Whoa…come here, its okay Sammy, we don't have to talk 'bout it right now." Dean shushed next to Sam's ear. He wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulder, helping him to straighten up and lean back against him.
The dark brown head bobbled slightly beneath Dean's chin, the older brother's hand tugging gently through the long, disheveled hair. Finally his fingers settled on the back of Sam's neck, curling into a firm squeeze, he held on firmly.
"Its gon'na be okay Sammy, just fine…you're here with me kiddo, you'll see…"
Sam hiccupped in air as he began to rock slowly back and forth against his brother's side, and Dean allowed it, accepted it, and continued to hold on in an unrelenting hug.
Dean didn't know how long he sat in the silent motel room holding his inconsolable little brother. He just knew he suddenly felt needed, wanted, and in control, and it felt good, it felt right. It was something he hadn't felt since he came back from hell, and for a long moment, time just stood still, and it was like it used to be, big brother comforting little brother, making everything okay.
Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Sam fell asleep; breathe evening out as his body fell lax against Dean in exhaustion. Dean had yet to hear what Sam had seen, his little brother far too distraught to even articulate his thoughts into words. What had Castiel shown him, Dean wasn't sure he wanted or needed to know? He was still struggling with his own time in hell, his on thoughts and fears, as far as he was concerned, Sam never had to talk about it, only needed to come back from it.
He brushed the long bangs off his sibling's forehead as he leaned him down against the bed. He tucked the blankets up and patted them securely around the sleeping Sam. He eyed the opposite bed with trepidation, considering his options. He remembered a time, not so very long ago, when he wouldn't have hesitated to sleep next to Sam, hell, he had done it their entire childhood, offering Sam solace from his nightmares, and making him feel safe. He wasn't sure now thought, what should he do? Should he lie down next to Sam or leave the kid alone? His Sammy had always looked to him for support, for guidance, this Sam guy; well he was a totally different story.
Dean exhaled noiselessly. Decision made, the older Winchester sighed and eased quietly down next to Sam on the double bed. He was just falling asleep when he felt his little brothers long limbs curl in toward his side; was Sam nuzzling up against him? He smiled and dozed off, one thought running swiftly through his head… Maybe his Sammy was still in there somewhere.
Sam sat bolt upright in bed, wild eyes darting around the dimly lit motel room, sweat matted hair sticking to his face. His heart was thudding loudly in his ears as he gasped for air in large unsteady gulps. His thoughts were racing as his mind replayed the nightmare that Castiel had shown him over and over and over. The apocalypse, the end, his death…Oh God, oh God, oh God…what had he done? Suddenly, he couldn't breath.
Dean's eyes blinked abruptly open. What the hell? Something wasn't right. Slowly his sleep idled brain comprehended what was going on, Sam was wheezing loudly next to him, long arms flailing around as he fought to get out of the bed. Shit…
Startled, but instantly awake, Dean grabbed at his incoherent little brother, "Breathe Sam….don't do this, breathe."
Sam flinched away, but Dean didn't let him get too far, his fingers gripping Sam by the arms, as the younger brother tumbled unceremoniously off the side of the bed and landed in a mass of limbs and blankets on the floor.
Sam was struggling to breathe, and his eyes were blinking sluggishly, glazed and aimed at nothing. Momentarily his flailing stopped and he tilted his head to the side to look up at Dean's concerned fear filled face. Dean?
Dean moved off the bed to crouch down next to Sam. His strong hand gripped his shivering brother by the arm, his pliant fingers rubbing gentle circles between Sam's shoulder blades, his soft voice cooing in his brother's ear.
"Easy, easy, you're safe…Sam….hey c'mon, its okay, its gon'na be okay, just breathe with me…slow, that's it."
Dean frowned, a tight knot forming in his chest. He wasn't so sure that his little brother was coming back from this or not. He wanted to tell Sam that everything would be okay, that he would make it all better, but he wasn't really sure of that fact, and he didn't want to lie, so he just held on tighter.
"De…Dean?" Sam finally whimpered in a tiny voice. "What…why?" he gasped, barely getting air between his lethargic words. He rolled his head toward Dean, blinking slowly, attempting to focus in on his brother's face. It was obvious he was trying to clear his thoughts, center in on his surroundings. A soft groan eased across his lips as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Dean's chest.
"You okay, Sammy?" Dean queried in a low voice.
"S...sick," Sam wheezed. God the room is spinning.
Dean's brows furrowed in concern as he looked attentively at his little brother, "You aren't gon'na hurl, are you?" He asked with apprehension as he pushed Sam back from him slightly, curious green eyes looking at the kid's pale face. Please don't throw up on me…
Sam looked up at Dean, his eyes clearing considerably, as a large dopey grin slowly curled up on his lips. "Nah," he whispered softly. The youngest Winchester nuzzled down against Dean, burying his face against the crook of his brother's neck. His body was way too tired to move or pull away. It would be okay, Dean had said so…
Dean relaxed considerably realizing Sam was more coherent and seem to be coming back around.
"Come on; let's get you off the floor."
With a little effort, Dean eased Sam back up on the bed. His own body rested against the headboard as Sam slumped tiredly against his side. His fingers ghosted through Sam's chestnut hair, as they both slowly relaxed, Sam drifting off to sleep.
Dean sighed, it had been two long days, but Sam was going to be okay, he was going to make sure of that – it was time for him to step up, to be Sam's big brother once again. God had a plan, and he and Sam were obviously supposed to be a big part of it. He smiled, he was sure he was up to the challenge; after all, it had always been his job to take care of Sammy, to make everything okay.
Okay, this was a 3 tissue alert story. Sappy ending, I know, but what can I say. Thanks for reading and reviewing. You guys are the best. Denise