Wish no sleep, Pray for life
Summary: Dean doesn't sleep. After hearing his brother's fears, Sam prays to God. Tag to Dream a Little Dream of Me, spoilers for the ending of season 3.
Warnings: Not much, slight spoilers for ending of season 3.
Disclaimers: I don't own Supernatural.
It had been two days since the whole ordeal with the dream root and Bela stealing the Colt, and Sam knows Dean has not slept at all. The proof for that? Very simple.
Dean was snappish, agitated and inhaled six to eight cups a day, not in bed when Sam goes to bed and is up when Sam wakes up. So yeah, he knew Dean was not sleeping, and he wanted his brother to sleep before he made a mistake during a hunt, getting himself killed. Landing himself in hell too early, before Sam could find a solution, before Sam could save him.
Sam rubbed his eyes, hard, before glancing over at Dean who was nearly vibrating on his seat, having already drunk his third cup of coffee (it was only lunch after all) and eaten his lunch… half of his lunch. The lunch had been a small plate of French fries with ketchup. Dean had not eaten too well either. Sam gritted his teeth, reached underneath the booth and put a hand on Dean's bouncing knee, hard.
"What?" his brother asked, eyes wide and wild, a deep weariness underneath it all. His knee stopped hopping but Sam kept his hand there, gentle now and the touch seemed to calm Dean slightly.
"You need to sleep," Sam said. "You can't run on coffee forever."
"I'm good, I'm not tired," Dean objected, his knee began bouncing again. At the look he got from his baby brother the man continued, "I'm fine, Sammy, what's next? Come on, new hunt!"
"You're not fine, Dean. You're just scaring me, and you'll soon run yourself to the ground. You're gonna get yourself killed." Sam held the knee still.
"Sooner or later we all die," Dean said with his charming grin.
"That wasn't even funny."
"Come on, it's a little funny." Sam thought he could see desperation in his big brother's eyes and felt his heart thud.
"No, it's not," he retorted. "Dean, what did you really see while I was busy getting rid of Jeremy?"
"Nothing, I told you I was looking for you the whole time."
"Yeah, right. And you suddenly stop sleeping for nothing."
"I do sleep," Dean protested.
"No, you don't, stop lying to me and tell me what's wrong."
"You're gonna die! And this… this is what you'll become!"
Dean nearly flinched as he remembered it, and looked down, kept quiet which freaked Sam out even more. For the third time his knee began to bounce but Sam squeezed, a gentle pressure on the knee cap, and he stopped. They stared at each other.
"Dean, you need to sleep," Sam said.
"I'm okay," Dean snapped.
"You're not okay," Sam stressed. "Dean… please, man." The older man got up and walked out, making Sam sigh in defeat.
Day three and Dean began to loose focus on things. Sam felt his heart was beating 160 a minute constantly and wanted that to stop too. However, the only way to do it was to get Dean in a bed and asleep.
This proved a lot harder than one would think.
"Dean, come on, just sit down on the bed! Your pacing is pissing me off!"
The older man flinched a bit at that and rubbed his arms, then his eyes, blearily looking at Sam.
"Dean," Sam tried with. "Please?"
"No," he muttered and shook his head. "It's okay, go to sleep, Sammy. I... I'll just watch some TV."
"Dean, no, sit down on the bed and try to relax."
There was no way Sam could sleep with his heart beating so fast. And his heart had been beating like this the entire day after Dean nearly drove the Impala off the road. Man, the guy knew how to scare him.
Dean sat down on Sam's bed and pushed his little brother down onto the pillow. He began to protest when the man put a hand on Sam's chest and said:
"Come on, you're the one who's gotta relax."
Sam sighed in frustration and was about to get up again when Dean began rubbing his shoulder. He stayed in place and focused on that. His brother was maybe not sleeping, but he was alive. Sam shouldn't waste his time being angry with the man. Dean was alive.
He never noticed when he nodded off.
When he woke up, Dean greeted him with a cup of coffee and a tired look.
Four days, and Sam was climbing the walls. Dean was at the top of the top when it came to annoy Sam, now eating close to nothing and drinking coffee only. Could you get coffee-poisoned? If you could, Dean definitely had it like five times over. He was so going through coffee-detox if Sam got him to sleep. That was all Sam wanted; for his brother to sleep. If he had to tie the man to the bed for it he would do it. It was nerve-wracking to watch his brother right now, and left him exhausted.
"Dean, let me drive."
"No way, I'm fine."
"Your hands are shaking." Dean looked down at his hands, scowled when he saw Sam was right and clenched them, one at the time. "Dean, pull over and let me drive." Sam's eyes were wide and scared but he didn't understand.
Driving kept Dean awake.
Sixth day dawned, and Sam woke up at the pleasant time nine the morning. He stretched slowly, preparing to deal with a new day of sleep-deprived Dean when he realized he heard nothing. No sound from the TV, no radio, no movement of the other bed and no nervous pacing on the floor. He shot up and whipped his head around. When he spotted Dean, he felt like he could cry.
The older man sat in the corner of the room furthest away from the beds, one of the blankets drawn around his shoulders and bloodshot eyes staring ahead of him. All the windows were covered with either curtains or blankets, leaving the room semi-dark. Sam did bother putting on any lights, instead he just got up from the bed fully and padded over to Dean. He slid down on the floor next to him and stretched out his legs, turning to look at Dean. The older man was gently rocking back and forth.
"Hey, Dean," Sam said, taking a hold of Dean's skull, stroking the short hair. Dean moved as if in trance, putting his head on Sam's shoulder and pressed close, no complaint as the younger man tugged him closer. "You ready to sleep now?" His tone was soft, careful to not give Dean any pain. The older man nodded, and Sam helped to stand up.
Dean was led to his own bed but refused to lie down as Sam tried to help him. The bed was cold, it smelt unfamiliar, Dean needed familiar, he had to have it. The voice, his own voice, screamed over and over, This is what you'll become, and he had to drown it. He had to.
Sam seemed to realize what Dean wanted and the older man could have cried in relief when he was put down on Sam's bed. His little brother could really read right through him. He got down and dragged a pillow to his chest; it smelt Sam and he clutched it hard to his chest before daring to let his eyes fall shut. The exhaustion made even his bones hurt and he let Sam wrestle him out of the jeans before getting some sleep-pants on. Sam drew the covers up to Dean's shoulders, sat down next to him and rubbed his brother's back before he said:
"I'll wake you for some food later, okay?" Dean nodded, grateful and then he was out.
Sam closed the door to their room and heard Dean's deep breathing, balancing the food in one hand as he walked inside before the put them down on the unoccupied bed. He got off his jacket and moved over to the bed where his brother was sleeping, gently shaking Dean's shoulder.
Dean groaned and opened his eyes to slits, blearily looking at Sam.
"Hi," the younger one said quietly. "Want something to eat?" Dean yawned before pushing himself up, Sam sitting down with the food and helping Dean to lean to the headboard before stretching out his legs next to his big brother.
Dean ate slowly, more leaning onto Sam than actually sitting but the man did not complain. He wrapped an arm around his big brother and said:
"Don't scare me like that again, okay?" The older man didn't answer, too busy eating but didn't move away when Sam leaned his cheek against the top of his head. Once the sandwich was gone Dean downed the coke in three long gulps and let Sam put the can away.
"Sammy?" Dean mumbled, opened bleary eyes to look at him.
"Yeah?" Sam replied and looked down at the man.
"'M sorry," Dean said. "For bein' an ass and all…"
"You don't have to apologize," Sam soothed. "You just didn't want to sleep."
"Still don't want to sleep?" Sam asked, confused.
"Not that…" Dean muttered. "Don't wanna be… I don't wanna be a demon, Sammy. I don't wanna be one…"
Sam felt his heart leap to his throat and said:
"Is that what you saw, Dean? That you would become a demon?"
"I don't wanna," Dean stubbornly insisted, like a child and he scrubbed at his eyes with a fist. Sam had never heard his brother sound like that, and if anything that freaked him out more than the whole ordeal of not sleeping. "I don't wanna be a demon…"
"You're not becoming one either," Sam said. "I swear to you, you're not becoming one. You hear me, Dean? You're not."
"Everyone turns to a demon in hell. In time, they do," Dean go out.
Sam couldn't help it, couldn't bear hearing the tone in Dean's voice; he pulled the man close and wound his arms tightly around his brother, willing him to understand there was okay to be held for once. Dean seemed to get it, as he didn't move away, just burrowed his head into Sam's chest and sniffed quietly before exhaustion caught up with him and he went back to sleep. Sam didn't let go of him though, just hoisted him up a bit and looked up at the ceiling. He swallowed hard and then said:
"God… Sam Winchester here, as I guess you already know. I also know you haven't really listened to me before, but I just want to ask you of one thing. Just one thing, and then I'll be happy for the rest of my life. Please… don't let my brother go to hell."
He looked down at the sleeping man and pressed him closer and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Don't let him go to hell," he repeated. "Please God, don't…"
Dean woke up to the feeling of warmth, and a steady heartbeat underneath his ear. He blinked his eyes open and moved the head away from the warmth, looking up to see Sam's sleeping face. The younger man had fallen asleep sitting, knees drawn up and the arms resting on them, head forward and Dean half-sitting leaned against his chest.
The older one smiled a bit and stretched. His stomach growled and he rubbed a hand across his face.
He looked up and met Sam's gaze. Sam smiled at him and Dean felt his little brother's hand on the back of his head, thumb moving gently. He decided not to comment, as the only one embarrassed would be himself.
"Hey, you hungry?" the younger one said.
"Starvin'," Dean mumbled. "Tired too…"
"Yeah, I'd guess so. Some food and then back to bed I guess."
"Wanna shower…" Dean knew he didn't smell good.
"Alright. Shower, food and then bed. And don't bother argue with me on the bed-point." Sam was firm and the older man knew when it was worth arguing with his little brother. This was not one of those times, so he simply nodded and pushed himself up. Sam groaned as he stretched stiff muscles and then he rose from the bed.
He watched Dean stumble to the bathroom, the door closing but not locking before he snatched up his jacket, straightened his clothes a bit before grabbing his wallet and the keys to the car.
"Chinese, pizza or burgers or something else?" he called out.
"Pizza!" Dean called back and then the shower was running.
"Got it!" Sam got his shoes on and then he was out the door.
One pizza later and Dean was back in bed, tucked in and asleep. Sam sat down gently, hoping not to wake him and put a hand on Dean's leg. The man didn't stir and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He knew they had to move on but he was driving this time, and Dean was going to sleep. He was not allowed to do this again. Scaring Sam was a big no-no.
He pulled away his hand from Dean's leg and rubbed his face. He was tired too, his nerves still pretty much shredded and so he slid up until he could lay down on the bed, feeling the warmth of Dean's back against his own, and so he slept.
Dean could hear the hellhounds closing in. He looked from Sam to Lilith; saw the woman's mouth stretch into a wide smile.
"You can hear them, can't you?" she said. "Don't they just sound lovely, Dean?"
Sam moved towards her but she threw him up against a wall, and held him there. The man tried to get away but she was not letting up, her gaze fixed upon Dean. His whole body tense, not really sure where to go; try save Sam or try go and kick some hell hound ass. Dean was fairly sure whichever option would end up in failure for himself.
"And you know what?" she said. "Your sacrifice… it will all be a waste. Because after you die, I will kill Sam as well."
"No!" Dean shouted. "You're not touching him."
"Oh, I will, Dean. Trust me, I will," Lilith said and her grin, if possible, grew wider. "And I will enjoy it. Slowly, hear him scream for hours before I give the finishing blow." Alright, that bitch was him to freaking kill. There was no way Dean would let her touch his little brother, no way he would let Sam die.
The doors banged open and Dean came face-to-face with four drooling, red-eyed hounds that moved in towards him, cutting off his train of thoughts. He felt his knees weaken a bit but refused to fall on his knees. He would not give in that easily.
Lilith looked over at Sam, winked at him and then said to the hounds:
"Time to eat, boys."
The first hound jumped at him, and Dean went down with a crash, full weight of the hound on his chest, and he gasped as the air pressed out from his lungs. Heavy bastards.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to move but to no avail.
The older of the two brothers held onto the jaws of the hound, trying to force the mouth away from him and felt the reeking stench of sulphur on the hellhound's breath.
"Geez, you need to brush your teeth," he could not help saying. He heard the others move, and felt whatever hope he had had in his chest go away.
God… just once, please… just please… I know it was wrong to make the deal… but… please…
Suddenly the hound was thrown away from him and he heard Lilith gasp. He had no more time to think about that before he was up, Ruby's knife in his hand and then he plunged it into the woman's chest, having moved quicker than he had done in his entire life.
Lilith gasped, dropped Sam and moved her eyes to look down at the knife in her chest, right through her heart. Her skeleton lighted up underneath the skin, the body shook before Dean ripped the knife out. Lilith fell down, convulsed once last time before the body was still. The demon was gone, and Dean dropped the knife in confusion. He looked at the time. Ten minutes after midnight. Looking up, he also discovered there was no trace of the hellhounds. It was actually eerie silent.
"Dean?" came Sam's voice. "What happened?"
"The truth?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and feeling his knees shake. He figured they were allowed to, just this once.
"I have no fucking idea."
Bobby had convinced them to sleep at his place, not that it had been hard. Both of them were kinda in shock, so was Bobby, and they needed to relax for a bit.
Dean had not touched his beer though; instead he was just sitting on the coach, quiet. Both Bobby and Sam saw he was in deep thought but that did not stop them from almost freaking out. Dean was not quiet. He did not fit in on that description. He did not sit and think for hours, just staring. The mere sight was wrong.
Bobby gave in five in the morning and went to bed, gruffly telling them where the blankets where and that they had to fight over the couch. Neither complained and then it was just the two of them.
"Dean?" Sam asked. "Hey, man, you okay?"
"Let me get back to you on that one," Dean answered. "It's been a really long day. Screw that, it's been a really long year."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Hey, you want the couch?"
"Doesn't really matter to me."
"You can take it. I'll go get some pillows and blankets."
The man heaved himself up from the floor and Dean looked after him, heard him go up the stairs and then turned his stare to one of the window. The first light of the day started to be seen. His head was swimming.
Had God heard him? Helped him even? He, a man who made a deal with a demon? He, who did not even believe in the man upstairs? He, Dean Winchester, the man who owned bad luck and horrible timing?
Hard to believe, but he had no other explanation. He didn't just grow superpowers that could throw hellhounds away in a minute, nor did he stop the deal. Maybe it stopped because Lilith died. He had no way of knowing, and to tell the truth he was not that interested in finding out. Just as long as the deal was off. He would do it again, sell his soul for Sam… but eternity in hell?
Deep down, he knew he had dreaded it the tiniest bit.
He looked up to see Sam had managed to walk up to him without the older one noticing and now held in pillows and blankets. Dean rose up and they silently made it comfortable for themselves, Dean laying down on the couch and pulling the blankets up to his chin. He was not in the mood to talk.
A gentle clasp on his shoulder and Sam said:
"I'm really glad you're still here, and okay."
"Yeah," Dean managed, his voice kinda rough. "Me too. Go to sleep, Sammy."
He watched Sam get comfortable on the floor and settling down on his side, one arm underneath the pillow and more blankets underneath him than over him. Dean sighed softly, closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep.
At the peak of the first rays of the sun, Dean was feeling a bit sleep-deprived. He wanted to sleep for once and of course then his brain didn't allow him. He moved yet again, watching Sam who was snoring lightly and deep asleep, still on his side and almost in the same position as when he had first fallen asleep. Dean envied him.
After another half-hour of tossing and turning he got up.
"Screw this," he muttered, dropped his pillow and blankets next to his brother and lay down, his back against Sam's. He didn't know their positions were rather identical to a few months prior, during his not-sleeping episode. "I'm freaking allowed to do it, and if you complain or make fun of me when you wake up Sammy, I'll… I'll put fucking Nair in your shampoo again."
Ignoring the fact he was talking to a sleeping person Dean drew the blankets up again, felt heat against his back and closed his eyes.
He was dead to the world within two minutes.
Bobby came down the stairs around midday, yawning as he pulled his cap on. Walking into the living room to check if the boys were awake, he stopped for a moment and surveyed the scene.
"Idjits," he muttered. "There is a couch you know, both of you didn't have to camp on the floor…"
Dean and Sam were still deeply asleep, Sam had managed to turn to his other side and Dean to his back so Sam was lying with his head on Dean's shoulder, one hand fisted into Dean's T-shirt. Dean's head was tilted slightly towards his little brother.
Bobby put his hands on his hips as he watched the two of them. Most likely it had been Dean who had been on the couch from the start, then for some reason he moved down to the floor next to his brother.
The man figured he had earned the right; just around twelve hours ago Dean was prepared to spend eternity in hell. He probably just wanted to ground himself to reality, and reality for Dean was Sam.
Bobby shook his head as he walked into the kitchen. They would wake up, in time. He would indulge them today.
Sam woke up to half of his face pressed into something solid but warm. He rubbed his face against it, and felt bones, an arm, shoulder--- he was lying with his head on a shoulder. Blinking his eyes open, he had a look to see whose shoulder he was lying on.
Dean's sleeping face greeted him, and to his embarrassment Sam noticed the death-grip he had on Dean's T-shirt. He slowly loosened his hold and wondered how his big brother had ended up on the floor.
He turned his head and saw Bobby lean on the doorway that led into the kitchen. He yawned and nodded as he sat up. He was careful not to wake his brother. Getting up he gently pulled the blankets up again on Dean before following Bobby to the kitchen.
"Tea," Bobby said and handed Sam a cup. "I don't think we need coffee today."
"Nah, your coffee just makes him hyper," Sam said and nodded towards Dean. "And believe me, I'm not sure I want to deal with that just yet."
"He's okay when he's had my coffee… well, most of the time."
"You don't want him driving after that," the younger one said. "He's crazy."
"Isn't he half-crazy already?"
"Bobby… we all are."
They held their breath as Dean moved but he only turned to his side before falling deeper into sleep's embrace, a soft groan coming from him.
"Hope he has good dreams," Sam said. "I don't want him to have any nightmares anymore."
"We'll take it as it goes," Bobby said. "I got some work to do outside. Just holler my name if you want anything."
"Yeah, okay. Thanks Bobby."
"No need to thank me," the man said and Sam listened to him walking outside.
Dean woke up about an hour later, slowly stretching and blinking his eyes open. He turned his head and saw Sam sitting on the couch with a book, completely engrossed in it. Dean was close enough to…
"Ow!" Sam pulled his foot up after Dean had pinched him, hard. "What did you do that for?!"
"Just checking your reflexes," Dean said with a grin as he sat up.
"My reflexes, huh?" Sam asked, putting the book away. He knew just the right revenge…
Bobby shot his head up when he heard Dean scream. Before he got any worried though, it was followed by Sam's laughter and there was no way the man would laugh if his big brother was in serious trouble.
"Sam, let me down!"
"Don't you dare throw me in some puddle, you big girl!"
"Who's the girl right now?"
Bobby scratched his head before his front door banged open and Sam came out… carrying Dean over his shoulder. The older of them raged and ranted, tried to kick his legs but Sam was too strong for him. Instead he just hit his fists to Sam's back but the younger one would not be affected that easily.
"Sammy, I'm warning you!" Dean shouted.
"I can't hear you, shorty!"
"What the--- who are you calling short, you freaky long-limbs?!"
Bobby only sighed as he heard the two continue to shout insults to each other; he really loved those boys, he did but man, they could make noise!
He heard a splash, a cry of outrage from Dean and he just knew he would be washing some clothes later.
Dean sat under a blanket dressed in sweat-pants, a new T-shirt and one of Sam's hoodies, the one he had carried when he was near-dying because of that electric shock. He would never admit it but he loved having it on. It was freaking huge, yes, but it was warm and comfortable. And it always reminded him Sam was nearby. Not that he would tell his little brother that. Nope, never. He maybe would consider it under death-threat but only then.
Sam was sitting next to him, dressed similarly, both of them holding cups of tea in their hands. Bobby had gone out on the yard again.
The younger one pushed his foot against his brother's and Dean pushed back. Then they both looked at each other and Dean could not help but say:
"You know, we're acting so fucking ridiculous now."
"I know. And I don't care."
The warmth in Sam's eyes nearly made Dean look away. Then he changed his mind, and held his brother's gaze.
"Yeah…" he replied after a while. Whatever had happened back in that house, with the hellhounds and Lilith, he knew he was safe now. He would not go anywhere if he could help it. "Me neither."
And really, he didn't.
I wrote the part of Dean not sleeping in one go, and then when he was saved from Lilith in another. Made it feel a bit different from each other, but I hope it still is okay. I'm satisfied with it.
Until another time,