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When Sam was little, he always used to crawl into bed with Dean when he was scared or couldn't sleep. In fact, he got so used to seeking his brother for comfort, that it was extremely difficult and took forever to break the habit when their dad decided he was getting too old for all that. “You have to learn to be brave without hiding behind your brother—that's what their dad would say—you need to stop being a fucking baby.”
So Sam forced himself to learn. He would hide under his blankets and try not to notice the shadows that always looked like monsters. He never talked about any of his nightmares and when he woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and terrified, he would just pull his pillow over his head and cry as quietly as he could. A few times he tried leaving the light on in the bathroom at the motels. However, one night when their dad was mostly drunk, he woke up furious and started screaming at and shaking him, Dean got between them and claimed that he was the one who left the light on—Sam still doesn't like to think about what happened next, needless to say he never did it again. In fact, Dean covering for him and taking the brunt of their fathers temper was probably the biggest reason that he eventually got used to sleeping by himself. He hated getting Dean in trouble. His dad said he was finally acting like a man.
The brothers are grown men now, Sam moved out on his own for a while, but returned to hunt with Dean after their dad passed. A lot of good and bad has happened in both of their lives since they started working together again, and Sam has grown accustomed to spending most days and nights facing all manner of nightmare. Most of the time, he barely even remembers all those years of struggling to sleep without the protection of a snoring Dean.
Except occasionally...
On the odd night when everything is just too much, when the walls are closing in around him, and his fears are tearing at the edges of his mind. Nights when his memories are overwhelming, when sleep is far away and filled with terrible thing. Sometimes on those rare nights, Sam still does the only thing that helps, the only thing that has ever helped. He silently slips into Dean's bed, buries his face in his t-shirt, and hides from the darkness in his brother's familiar scent and warmth.
Of course, he always feels completely ridiculous when he does this and prays that Dean won't wake up, because he knows that he would never hear the end of it.
Dean has occasionally stirred, but thankfully, never woken up, even on the really bad nights. Tonight was one of those really bad nights, Sam had already spent ten minutes hiding in the bathroom shaking and crying, before finally giving in and crawling into bed with Dean. He knew he was only going to be able to find solace nestled against Dean's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. In moments like these he just clings, like a child, to the only person who has ever made him feel secure. Tucking himself into the only place in the world that he has ever felt truly safe: his big brothers side.
Sam snuggles his head against Dean and finally relaxes, quickly drifting into a peaceful sleep. He never feels Dean sit up and reach for the blanket to pull it over him, he never feels him sweep his hair out of his face, never feels him gently rubbing circles into his back, or hears him softly humming “Hey Jude”.
Sam doesn't know that when they were young, Dean always heard him crying and would often lay awake to make sure that he was okay. He doesn't know that Dean always slept with one arm out from under the covers, just in case he needed to reach for him. Sam doesn't know that Dean still sleeps with one arm out from under the covers, he doesn't know that Dean always wakes up.
Dean smiles fondly and kisses his little brother on the forehead, then with one arm curled protectively around him, lets his own eyes close and whispers, “G'night, Sammy.”