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Sam twisted restlessly again, sweat trickling down his brow. He felt stuffy, head throbbing which had only been a dull ache through the day. He was surely coming down with something. He shifted trying to find comfort, but even all the space on his new ‘bigger’ bed (that Dean had got him this Christmas) felt confining.
It wasn’t like he didn’t like having his own room. Not after sharing space with first, his father and brother in single motel rooms and later for hours together in a car that eventually stopped fitting his lanky legs; having a room and some space wasn’t so bad. But he had to admit to himself that he missed having his brothers continued presence around him when they slept. Dean’s soft breathing when he was calm or his light snoring when he was sick was the constant rhythm Sam had slept to all his life.
Dean had always been attuned to Sam even if he was deeply asleep. He knew Sam was in the throes of a nightmare or unwell just with the way he breathed. He remembered many such nights when he was a kid and woke up from a nightmare and Dean would already be sitting beside him on the edge of his bed stroking his chest slowly to calm him down. If he was sick and unable to sleep Dean--no matter how tired-- would somehow know he was distressed and would be awake in no time carrying Sam to his own bed to take care of him. When he grew up and didn’t like being coddled or hugged, even then he always needed his brother in times of sickness or fear.
So now when he felt poorly his brain chanted ‘Dean, Dean, Need Dean, Want Dean.’ -Dean who was just a door across his seemed further than if they were parted by heaven and hell. He woke up slowly, dragging his feet as he tumbled towards Dean’s room.
Dean’s room even though cooler with the AC on felt warmer, probably just by his presence. He drifted towards the bed where the table lamp shined over Dean who was slumped on the head board with the laptop still playing what he’d fallen asleep to. Sam picked the gadget, shut and put it away, sliding in on the bed alongside Dean to lay his head on Dean’s lap. He could wake him up, he knew. Ask for medicine and attention and comfort he so readily needed.
But he realized it didn’t matter if he got all that or not. He had Dean. And that was enough.
Dean woke with a start feeling a weight on top of his legs. He was groggy with sleep but his Big Brother radar was forever active.
“Sam,” he softly called out threading his fingers through Sam’s hair with one hand, checking Sam’s forehead with the other. He sat up in understanding; Sam was warm; running a fever. Pressed at his glands; swollen.
“Hey Sammy, wake up Kiddo! You’ll crick your neck that way,” Dean coerced, softly rubbing Sam’s arm.
“Hmm,” Sam grunted, almost whining. “I don’t care. It’s comfy here.” He said snuggling closer to Dean making him smile warmly. They were in their forties now but every time Sam turned into the ‘Little Brother’ that needed him, Dean’s heart melted to a puddle.
He bent down either way and jostled Sam a little, pulling him towards his chest, “I know it is, but I need to check you over Sammy, I think you’re running a fever.”
“Yeah probably,” he admitted, “Head hurts too.” He turned then, facing Dean,” Sorry I woke you up, couldn’t sleep.”
Dean caressed Sam’s head, moving his hair away his face,” Don’t be stupid. I knew you weren’t okay. You kept pinching your head all day, didn’t talk much. I was hoping you would sleep it off,” Dean sighed; then moved to get up.
“Stay,” Sam pulled him back.
“I’ll be right back Sammy, just getting a few things okay?” Dean assured him.
Minutes later he sauntered back into the room, his hands full of medical supplies, hot water bag for Sam if he was getting chills and ginger tea to soothe his throat. Dean wasn’t really new to this. He had spent a lifetime taking care of his little brother and knew what he needed before Sam even gave a thought to it.
“Hey Sammy wake up, let me check your temperature,” Dean called out softly. He helped Sam up against the headboard not liking how plaint Sam was for him.
Not that Sam or Dean hid things from each other anymore. They had long ago quit guarding themselves from the other. Doing that seemed like an insult to the bond they shared. They knew each other was all they had left; they would have to be the ones who filled in every void for the other. Be each other’s friends, support, have each other’s back and he had always been the one playing the parental role in his brother’s life… and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Sam fidgeted but let Dean check him over,” It’s not too bad 101.4, you feeling cold?” Sam nodded and reach his hand out for the water bag. Dean smiled -at how well they knew each other- and passed it on, letting him hug it till he got out the medicines.
After feeding him the medicines and making sure he was tucked in, he moved to get up when Sam instantly caught on to his sleeve, “Don’t go Dean.”
Dean smiled warmly,” I am not, just putting all this away. Here drink this till I am back okay?” Dean said passing on the steaming mug.
When Dean walked back in the room a few minutes later, Sam was half asleep, drowsily swaying to one side while the mug was tilting in his hand, ready to fall over.
“Come on Kiddo, lie down now,” Dean prodded Sam softly, trying to get him to lie down.
Sam complied but not before he tugged onto Dean, making sure he was lying down next to him and then cuddled up to him, leaning his head against his brothers chest…hugging him close.
“Ooof,” Dean grunted against the weight but chortled fondly, enclosing his arms around his Sasquatch of a brother. “You aren’t exactly light Sammy,” he jostled his brother a little so that they both could fit on the bed and not fall off.
“I don’t care. I am sleeping right here.” Sam retorted, rubbing his scratchy cheek against Dean’s night shirt. “And you can’t say anything, I am sick.”
“Like you don’t just sleep here most of the nights anyway, sick or not.” Dean chuckled.
“I can’t help it. You gave me the shitty room.”
“There are a hundred rooms here Sammy, I didn’t give you any,” Dean played along, knowing well Sam didn’t need any excuse to be in this room, he was there because Dean was.
“But you took this room Dean, I had to take the one right across,” Sam said casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, that warmed Dean’s heart every time Sam mentioned it.
“Why?” Dean teased him nevertheless. Which wasn’t the best thing to do because Sam was jabbing his elbow on his side as payback.
“Ow Sam, okay okay!” he chortled between trying to get away from the assault, and hugged his brother closer with one arm, fingering Sam’s hair with the other. “Go to sleep now kiddo, I want you better tomorrow morning, Capisce?”
Sam just snuggled closer in response and drifted off to sleep and Dean was quick to follow.
“D,” Sam whispered. His sleep disturbed and restless. Dean instantly stirred at his brother’s distress, as he always did.
“Sammy,” he looked to his brother who was sweating, fidgeting uneasily besides him although still partly asleep. Dean sighed, it was what he had expected. Sam’s nightmares were far and few lately, but they always returned with vengeance when he was unwell.
“De,” Sam muttered, his legs rustling beneath the sheets, his fingers clutching Dean’s shirt, trying to huddle closer to his brother for comfort.
“It’s okay Sammy, sshh I am right here, I am right here okay?” Dean tried soothing him, pushing his hair back and cupping his neck lovingly, but Sam only grew more restless.
Sam woke up abruptly, panting, eyes blinking rapidly as acclimated to his surroundings. “Dean,” he called out, he always did when troubled.
“Right here, kiddo,” Dean soothed,” Nightmare?”
“Yeah.”
“Hell?”
“No no,” Sam breathed in hastily and looked to his brother,” Just random shit.”
Dean reached for his forehead and found it warmer,” Your temperatures higher Sam, can’t even give you anything for a couple of hours.”
“It’s okay,” Sam whispered, his breath staggered. He rolled on to the side to sit up.
“What happened?” Dean worried as Sam tried raising himself upright with the support of his wobbling elbows.
“Can’t breathe lying down,” Sam explained but he was interrupted by harsh coughing that only made the pain in his head a million times worse.
Dean sat up too, pushing Sam forward wordlessly and got behind Sam, one leg on each side of him and pulled him back to his chest.
“Is that better?”
“Hmm...” Sam mumbled even as he tried getting his breathing back to normal.
Dean rubbed soft hands across Sam’s chest breathing with him to calm him down, hoping the constant rhythm would put him back to sleep.
Minutes passed but Sam was unable to rest or fall back asleep. He fidgeted a few seconds before pressing his head back into Dean’s shoulder.
“Can’t go back to sleep kiddo?” Dean asked, as he put his arms around Sam pulling him closer.
“Don’t want to.”
Nightmares. Sam didn’t need to put it into words for him to know.
“Want to watch something?” Dean offered.
“No.”
“Then what do you want to do?” Dean insisted, knowing Sam needed the distraction.
“Tell me a story,” Sam implored.
Amused, Dean couldn’t help but laugh,” Sammy are you 5? Although even then you would insist to read by yourself? ‘I am a big boy now’” Dean imitated.
“Not when I was sick, then I always wanted only you to read to me,” Sam argued.
“Okay, I’ll read to you,” Dean relented, not like he could refuse anything Sam asked for.
“Not read, TELL me a story.”
Dean sighed, a sick Sam was like a clingy baby. And if was honest he didn’t mind a second of the coddling Sam sought from him. In fact it always soothed his heart that he was needed.
“Which one?”
“About when we were kids.”
Dean smiled, Sam always wished to hear happier memories from their childhood, still wishing to morph the bitter moments he remembered that had ended up blurring the better ones.
“Tell me your most favourite memory from our childhood Dean,” Sam continued.
Dean nodded and set to think. He remembered every little moment he had spent with his family, especially his Sammy. He cherished every minute with him. He had hung onto those like souvenirs that reminded him that even though he had lost so much he had never really lost what meant the most.
It was difficult to think of just one, but he knew just the one Sam needed to hear right now.
So he settled back, taking Sam with as he leaned against the headboard, pulling the blanket around him.
“I was seven or I don’t know maybe eight and it was around November,” Dean huffed sadly. “You know how November was for Dad…”
Sam didn’t respond, just looked up at Dean, waiting.
“Dad had been out for a hunt for days and he had left us for more than a week….Money had run out after the first four days. I had enough for our food but not enough to pay more rent,” he paused swallowing the lump in his throat as Sam listened on, secretly cursing himself for wanting to hear a childhood story. He didn’t want Dean to relive anything painful anymore.
But Dean continued,” So after leaving you at Day care, I skipped school and tried looking for a way to get money. I mean uh… it was tough because Dad always told us not to attract unnecessary attention that could alert the CPS. But I remember I had seen this old lady on our way to school who didn’t have any help buying her groceries for her, help her carry them. So I went to her that day when she was just about to leave and asked her if she needed help.”
Dean smiled at the memory, “And Sam, man she was so happy….She probably lived alone and was so desperate for any company that she took me on the offer. I helped her buy her essentials, dropped her back home, and even offered to clean up her yard. I was just going to request her to loan some cash when she gave me money. And not just enough to pay the rent but to keep our stomachs full for days,” Dean smiled reminiscing.
“Didn’t she ask you where you were from or where your parents were?” Sam implored.
“You’d be surprised, but she didn’t man. She just looked at me like she knew I had my reasons and respected me enough to not ask. Because if she had, I wouldn’t have been able to lie. Not after I saw the loneliness and honesty in her eyes.”
“We were going to be there for a long while, there had been many cases for Dad there and he was gone longer and longer. I was running around making sure we ate, attended school/kindergarten, did all our work,” he paused to laugh and look down at Sam fondly, ruffling his hair a bit,” You were just three, and had so much energy. It was like a 24-hour work out programme running around you.”
“But you were so perceptive Sammy. You just knew when I had been run ragged and those days you were subdued too. It was nearly ten days and Dad hadn’t been home and I had probably caught a bug from school. I had been sleeping all day, just waking up enough to make sure you ate something and then I would leave you to play in your cot. The room was a mess, I hadn’t cleaned up after we had played, hadn’t done the dishes. I had thought I would do it when I was better….but…”
“Dad came that night,” Sam understood, waiting to be told the rest, but already perceiving what must have happened.
“Yeah. His hunt had been a bust, he had been drinking. He came in, saw me sleep, you playing alone and the mess around…. and just lost it. He didn’t stop to think. He woke me up abruptly, dragged me to the main room shouting at me for the mess…telling me how irresponsible I was, how if I couldn’t just hold the fort after him he couldn’t trust me behind his back on a hunt,” Dean laughed wetly. “I took it you know, I was so used to his drunken rants that it had just stopped hurting.”
“That bastard,” Sam blurted, stopping to look at Dean thinking he would oppose it. But Dean just smirked and nodded, he had stopped refusing the truth long ago. Acceptance was healing.
“He went on to say that I really didn’t care for you. That one day when I wasn’t looking, being careless like I had been someone would harm you and I would be left whiling away my time, and I just …” Dean shuddered, swallowing painfully.
“I couldn’t take it Sam. I could take anything but anyone telling me I didn’t love or care for you enough. Because I knew, I knew I could go the ends of the earth for you….”
“I know Dean, I know that and that’s what matters,” Sam comforted his brother.
Dean smiled at him, resting his cheek on Sam’s head. “I couldn’t take it, I started crying. I just sat there in the kitchen as his tirade went on.”
He paused to chuckle, “I don’t know how you managed it, but you got off your cot by yourself….toddled up to where we were and screeched loudly,” he laughed and looked at Sam who was curiously hanging on to each word.
“Dad stopped shouting, I paused to stare at you thinking you were having a meltdown or something…considering what a girl you were, are.” Dean joked trying to lighten the moment sensing the sadness in Sam’s eyes, this wasn’t why he had chosen the story. The best was yet to come.
“Then dad told you to go back inside and that he had to talk to me. And you just shook your head in a no, very wildly at that and went ahead and pushed him,” Dean laughed. “You were so tiny then, barely 3 and you pushed at him with all your strength, then turned to me and hugged me around my neck, clinging to me and loudly exclaimed ‘Mine Mine Mine’ ” Dean imitated how his brother might have sounded then, making Sam chortle too.
“You just clung to me like a little monkey and when dad tried intervening, you just got up and pulled me with your hand to take me inside. When he tried following us, you looked back at him and shouted ‘Daddy make De sad? Sammy hate Daddy’ …then you hugged me around my waist hiding yourself behind me knowing Dad might berate you too and said ‘Sammy loves only De’,” Dean had to pause, overwhelmed with the memories of how his Sammy had always protected him. Even if the ways had changed, from innocent declarations to silent actions. He was always sure of how much his brother loved him.
“And didn’t that work? Dad was aghast. Hate wasn’t a word we ever used. It hit him, snapped him back to reality. He didn’t know how to respond and he just escaped to his room with a whispered ‘sorry’.”
Sam laughed, smirking like a smartass he was.
“You just dragged me back to the room and we laid back on the bed. I tried pushing you away because I was running a fever. But you wouldn’t leave, you just nestled to me. You were still learning to put together words but tried consoling me ‘Sammy make De happy. Sammy take care of De k?” Dean proudly narrated, his eyes shining with all the love and fondness he felt for his little brother.
“You were so small, with such little understanding of what was happening around you but you cared so much for me. You were so heedful of my emotions, so protective…you know,” Dean gulped,” In the last few years whenever circumstances put us against each other, or away from each other...I would remember this moment and it would give me the strength I needed to go on.”
Sam’s eyes were no longer just wet, he had shed tears at the trust and pride Dean had in him, even now, after everything they had both said, done and been through. He was proud too… of how resolutely they had fought against everything that had tried pulling them apart.
Sam looked back at his brother, his eyes glimmering too but only with tenderness and gratitude. That was what Sam admired the most about his brother. Dean’s needs were simple. Good food, a beer shared with his brother, good entertainment. But amidst all that, what he was vulnerable and desperate was for was ‘love’ and ‘family’. He could endure it all, if he had his family with him. Even now he had narrated a bitter sweet moment, where his dad has callously accused him and ignored his efforts to keep the house together in spite of being a little kid himself only because Sam had so innocently but passionately declared his love for his brother. Sam sometimes found it hard to fathom Dean’s devotion for him.
And sometimes, like now, he was left bereft of words to express his own devotion too. He just hugged Dean tighter, shifting to snuggle deeper into his brother’s side, arms draped around Dean’s waist and sighed; feeling safety and peace.
Dean shook his head, he didn’t need Sam to put his emotions into words either. Feeling this needed, this loved was all he had ever wanted and Sam fulfilled that void in his life, he always had. He just hugged him back, carding his fingers gently through ‘his kid’s’ hair.
Maybe Sam didn’t have the strength to talk, maybe sleep was dragging him away as he blinked slowly, but he had to let Dean know…
“Sammy loves De,” he whispered, but was sure his brother had heard him because he felt Dean kiss his head and heard a soft ‘He loves you too’ before falling into oblivion…Nightmares replaced with dreams of two protective brothers fighting the odds, fighting heaven and hell and God himself to choose each other, choose family.
And well…..isn’t that kind of the whole point?