Note: This is my first time writing Sam/Dean because I'm afraid I don't do Dean's voice justice. He's so hard to write. *banging head* I don't know how long this fic is gonna be because, seriously, the muse is kinda touch and go for this one. (That's other words for I need lots of support).


It happened before (when Sam was four)

It reminds him of the time when Sam was four years old. He was barely nine at the time but even then he had done things that no other nine years old ever dream of thinking. At nine, he already knew how to handle firearms, clean them and shoot them with precision each time. He knew how to cook a meager dinner, wash his family laundry in a Laundromat, take care of his little brother and basically being a good kid. It was quite a feat for a nine years old because Sam was annoying when he was four, moreover, when he got whiny and clingy.

It happened during one of dad's hunts. They were staying in a motel room for the last few weeks and dad had gone for the night promising to return in the next two days. Sam had spent the previous night watching horror movie, courtesy of Dean, and got one hell of a nightmare for it. He clung to Dean like a limpet for the rest of two days until dad got back. He won't go anywhere without Dean, even dragged him to the bathroom every time he needed a wee much to the exasperation of his big brother. But then, Sam would look up at him with his puppy-dog eyes and said, "but I'm scared Dean," and Dean was doomed.

Yet, the truth is that taking care of Sam is pretty much the only thing Dean knows how to do best. So, when Sam's wall broke down a year ago, he knew he was the only one who could get through to his little brother. Now, come hell fire and high water, if the only thing that can keep Sam sane is him then he swears he will get Sam through it.

Dean is driving along the interstate road with Sam's head on his lap because he is tired reaching out across the seat. This way, he can drive safely without worrying over his brother's mental health. Sam is sleeping right now with his right cheek plastered to his stomach's skin. Dean has to lift up his shirt up for that and Sam has to fold his giant body such a way in order to fit inside the car's too small space. It makes Dean missing the impala all the more. His baby sure can accommodate both of them better. Of all the craziness that happened upon them, this is definitely the most odd. They don't get touchy feely with each other except the occasional hugs when the other is near death or just back from death. So, the past three days really treads on Dean's comfort level.

Dean blames the Devil. If he could he would go back down to hell and stab the bastard with angel sword repeatedly until he is satisfied. He is sure that what Sam sees are all only left over memories of hell but damn that snake tongued son of a bitch for playing his brother like this as if he still has a hold of him somehow. It is all started three days ago in a motel room after they ganked that psycho in Idaho.


Dean startles awake by the sound of crashing. He looks around the dark motel room only to find Sam trashing around on the floor between their beds with both arms bleeding.

"Shit!" He jumps down on the floor immediately, grabbing his brother's shirt, calling his name with panic clear in his voice. "Sammy! … Sam, please stay with me,…. Sammy!"

Sam is curl up on the floor with eyes close and all of his muscles pulled tight. He grits his teeth together while tremors run amok throughout his body. Dean grabs him tight, turning him over on his back and straddles his waist. Then he held Sam's face with both hand, pleading to his brother to open his eyes. "Sammy, come on open your eyes, man. It's me…. come on, Sam, snap out of it. Come on…"

Dean feels Sam's body starts to loosen up after a while and the next seconds he opens his eyes much to Dean's relieve.

"Sam? …. You with me?" Dean looks into Sam's dazed eyes with worry mars his face, deepening his age line.

"'s nt workin'….'s nt workin …" mumbles Sam repeatedly.

"What's not working? Sam, what're you talking about?" asks Dean, frantic but Sam ignores him. He keeps mumbling it over and over again until Dean gets a good look on both his arms that are bleeding from several slice wounds.

"What the …" Dean grabs one of Sam's bleeding arms and inspects his wound. "What the hell did you do, man?" whispers Dean horrified before he makes a quick work on lifting Sam's giant limp body off the floor to the bed and getting the med kit.

He cleans Sam's wound carefully, three slices on left arm and two on right arm, cauterizes them then rolls bandages on them. He goes a little overboard with them so that his brother looks a bit like a mummy but Sam is not aware the whole time. He just looks up the stained ceiling quietly and not even flinches when Dean tends to his wounds.

"Sam?" Dean touches his brother's wide chest and scrutinizes his lack face for any sign of coherence. "Hey, man, you're there? ... Can you look at me, Sam?"

Sam slowly shifts his eyes to look at Dean's worried ones then whispers, "he won't go away, Dean."

"Who won't go…" Dean puts on a confused look before the fog clears away and he finally gets it. "You mean him? the Devil?"

"Usually, when I press on the wound in my palm he goes away but not now. Now, he is back for good. I dunno how to …. how …." Sam sends a pained look at his big brother, pleading him to help him because he is lost on what to do.

"And you cut yourself because of it?" Dean is feeling outrage partly on Sam's stubbornness in keeping it from him. He is angry because Sam chooses to hurt himself than wake him. "You should've woken me up, Sam!"

Dean goes to pack up their med kit and put it in their supplies bag.

"How did it happen, anyway? I thought you said you've got it under control. How did he get passed your wall?"

Sam does not answer. Instead, he turns his face away from his brother to stare at the wall. Dean stands up and comes near the foot of Sam's bed. His face is pinched with worry and the muscle in his jaw rippling as his anxiety rises up.

"D'you see him, now?"

Sam shakes his head slowly while still facing the wall. Dean knows that his brother is hiding something. Judging from the shifty eyes and the way he won't look at him in the eyes tells Dean that this something must involves him. Dean is determined to get to the bottom if this, even if he has to hang the little bitch upside down to spill the beans.

Dean has to sigh to that. This is why he always shies away from any 'chick-flick' moment of any kinds because he knows that dealing with Sam always exhausts him emotionally. He does not need anymore drama from other people.

"A'right, I'll get some coffee and …. You stay right here!" Dean points his finger at his brother with the most seriousness he can muster. "Ya hear me, Sam? I mean it. Don't get out of the room. Don't … don't' even get out of bed!"

Dean quickly walks out of the room with a sole intention to get back as soon as possible because last experiences has proven that he cannot leave Sam alone. Who knows where his brother will ends up this time if he takes another imaginary trip with the Devil. Little does he know that Sam's tremors are restarting again once he clears the door.


Dean returns five minutes later with two cups of hot coffees. It is still too early to buy anything else so he settles for it right now.


Dean closes the door and put the coffees on top of the table while looking around the room for his brother. The beds are empty. He makes a circle around the room before going to the bathroom. The door only opens few inches despite Dean's insistent pushing. Looking down he sees stray hairs on the bathroom floor just behind the door.

Dean crouches down and thrusts his hand between the spaces of the barely opened door to touch Sam's hair. "Sam, can you move?" asks Dean. "I can't open the door, man. You gotta move so I can get in."

Sam's head jerks up when Dean touches it then there is a slight motion of pushing into his hand which makes it difficult for Dean to move his brother away from behind the door.

"Come on, you gotta move, buddy."

Dean rubs Sam's head for few seconds just like when they were kids and he was trying to coax a sulking Sam into cooperation. Usually it did not end well since Sam hates being treated like a child even when he was still a child but now Sam's lack of reaction worries him immensely. He does not know what happens to Sam behind the door. Does he cut his hands again or does he do things more horrible this time?

Dean tries pushing the door again and this time it gives, though only slightly but enough for him to peek inside. He slides his head between the gap and peek at his brother. Seeing Sam curling naked on his side with his back to the door making Dean's eyebrows raised. He quickly pulls his head out and pushes the door stronger with both hands pushing the base, moving Sam with it. Once he makes enough gaps to slide his whole body he crawls in and kneels in front of Sam.

Sam lets out a quiet whimper just before Dean touches his cheek. Both his palms planted firmly on his ears as if to block a sound out.

"Sammy, … come on you can't sleep on the floor naked. Get up, now."

Dean grasps Sam's hand off his ear and cradles his brother's head with his left before looping his arm under Sam's armpit to help him up. Sam clutches Dean's shirt tightly as his big brother shuffles both of them out of the small bathroom.

"Fuck, you're heavy," grouses Dean. "Can't believe salad gives you this much weight. Why do you naked, anyway? Gonna shower?"

Sam wraps his arms tightly around his brother's torso adding more pressure on his chest making him wheezing from exertion of carrying Sam's almost dead weight to the bed. He presses his face on Dean's shoulder. The word 'fire' mumbled onto Dean's shirt but Dean hears it anyway.

Prying Sam's hands off of him is another chore since the giant limpet won't loosen his hold on him until he gets dragged down on the bed next to Sam. A naked Sam. Somehow that fact disturbs him. It is true that he used to bath Sam when they were kids but that is the problem. It happened when they were kids. Granted they are already living in each other's pocket for their whole life, Sam's period of insanity when he ran away to Stanford does not count and the last year when he was stranded at Lisa's was only because soulless Sam was a jerk, and they have seen each other naked countless times but they have not sleep on the same bed since Sam was eight.

Dean struggles to get out of Sam's deadly grip but his little brother keeps dragging him back when he senses that Dean is getting away. "Are you gonna let me go sometime soon?" asks Dean to his brother who is still hanging onto him as if his whole life depends on it. An exasperation sigh sneaks out of his lungs.

Sam lets out another sound of distress that is more like a whine to Dean's ear. Dean gives up his effort to get up because Sam will just pull him back down.

"At least get under the blanket will you? I won't have you sick on top of this."

To Dean's surprise, Sam lets go one of his hands to blindly reach behind him for the blanket. Dean kicks off his boots on the floor and pulls the blanket on top of Sam as his brother curls beside him with face pressed firmly on his shoulder and both hands resume their hold around his torso.

"Coffee's gonna get cold," says Dean to no one particular and getting no response. He takes a deep breath and settling up for a couple hours of sleep since Sam is not inclined to get up anytime soon. He hopes his brother will get through this episode when they wake up later so they can get out of this town as soon as possible.



Please review and tell me what you think. :D God? Bad? I'd like to hear it. :D