Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Yeah yeah, I don't own them, but they own a little part of me

Word Count: 100 (feel free to count)

Set: What's simple with a salt 'n burn when you're just a kid? Something went wrong, and Dean got hurt. Dean is 12, so you can do the math for Sammy :-)

He fought against the muddy layers of exhaustion, fever and pain. He recalled a hard and callused hand rushing along his body, searching for hidden injuries.

Anxious questions and impatient replies, a door banging.

Something clanging, somewhere.

Heatwaves, rolling through his shattered limbs. Then a hand on his arm. Cool, small, gentle.

He lifted heavy lids.

Saw a sandwich, crust removed, oozing with peanut butter and jelly, placed on the nightstand.

Saw Sammy, doing his friggin best to perform a smile. "Hey, I made you something to eat."

It was ridiculous. Childish. But suddenly he felt safe.

Like... at home.