E/O Challenge Word:

compete /kəmˈpēt/ v. – Strive to gain or win something by defeating or establishing superiority over others who are trying to do the same.

Spoilers/Warnings: None, pre-series

Disclaimer: Not mine

Word Count: 300 (triple drabble)

If the storm gets wild and scary, count on me to be right there. ~ Toby Keith

Sam startled awake; blinking drowsily as he vaguely wondered what had woke him...and then receiving his answer as a rumble of thunder literally rattled the motel room's single window half a second before lightning flashed remarkably bright behind the thin curtain.

Sam swallowed, staring wide-eyed at the window as the summer storm continued; his heart hammering in his small chest as rain forcefully blew against the glass like it was demanding entrance to the room.

Sam shifted restlessly beneath his blankets and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the storm that raged...but then startled again when the thunder shook and the lightning cracked; both forces of nature seeming to compete for the title of Best in Show...and both seeming determined to terrify a five-year old kid who should be sleeping.

"S'okay, Sammy..." Dean called quietly from the opposite bed; half-asleep but still sensing his little brother's distress. "Just a storm, kiddo."

"I know," Sam returned bravely and then paused. "But Dean..."

Dean chuckled softly, knowing exactly what Sam wanted and lifting his blankets in silent invitation for his brother to join him.

Sam didn't hesitate; scrambling out of his bed and into the safety of Dean's as lightning once again flashed. "It's scary," he commented; snuggling against his brother as Dean covered him with the blankets.

"Nah," Dean scoffed and rubbed Sam's back as he resituated himself on the mattress. "Nothing's scary as long as I'm here. Right?"

Sam smiled at the reminder and didn't even notice when the thunder shook the motel's thin walls once more. "Right," he agreed confidently and allowed himself to relax against the solid, comforting, protective presence of his big brother.

Dean quirked a smile of his own. "'Night, Sammy..." he murmured, affectionately squeezing the five-year old beside him as they both drifted back to sleep.