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Sam and John were fighting again.
Dean was no stranger to it, really. He’d just expected them to stop once the vampires had been taken care of. Actually, no, he hadn’t expected that; he’d hoped for it. The logical part of him knew that it would take a lot more stewing and angrily bitten out orders and slamming of doors before they got anywhere near their own special brand of ‘making up.’ It was just like before Stanford, and just like then, it was stressful and riled Dean’s inner Omega up like nothing else.
He wasn’t sure if it was because John and Sam were both Alphas, or if it was just that they were fighting. Dean hated when his family was fighting. It reminded him harshly of when Sam had left, and that just made him nauseous to think about. No, the feeling was likely helped by the fact that they were both Alphas with red eyes and overbearing angry pheromones, but the real problem was the fact that they were fighting at all.
Dean hated feeling like he was going to be left behind.
It was kind of sickening, how desperate he got when they argued. Before, it had been an angry Impala ride back to the motel, Dean filling the silence with desperate, awkward stammering and unappreciated jokes until his father snapped at him to shut up and Sam got upset about it again. Now, Dean cringed at the idea, physically shrinking a little into the bench seat as Sam drove them back to the motel, John trailing them in his big black truck.
Even sitting here with Sam, their father a mere twenty yards behind them, made Dean antsy. John could just choose to take a turn onto a random road and disappear off to God knew where. He could just decide to leave. Dean hated feeling like that. He hated the itchy, sinking feeling that his family was in danger of breaking up again. It made that stupidly whiny part of him want to break down in sobs.
He’d been so excited, too. Having John show up on the vampire case had been nothing short of a miracle. For a brief moment, Dean had had all of his family right there, right where he could touch and see and talk to them. He’d had them all right there, where he could make sure they were both safe and sound without having to constantly worry. Going on a hunt as a family again had felt incredible. They’d worked like a well-oiled machine.
And now Sam and Dad were fighting again.
Dean hated it, because unlike before, when Sam had pulled ahead in the Impala and forced their father to explain what the mission was, there was no hunt to finish. The hunt was done, the vampires ganked, the mission completed. Sure, they still had to talk about the Colt and the demon and all of that, but Dean had a horrible feeling that John would decide to take off the moment he made sure his boys weren’t bleeding out or something.
“D’you think Dad will leave?” Dean blurted into the silence of the car.
Sam didn’t even look at him, the sharp outlines of his face illuminated by the glow of Baby’s high beams. His mouth was set into a hard, angry line, his whole body tense and upset. “I don’t care,” he muttered. “Let the old man take off. Fuck if I know what he’s gonna do.”
“But he needs to stay, right?” Dean asked, almost desperate. His heart felt like it was trying to pound out of his chest. It was doing funny thing to his vision. “He... He just got here.”
Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “Sure, Dean, because he cares so much about us. He’ll probably take off before I can even try to get anything out of him about that stupid gun and the demon.” The younger Alpha tightened his grip on the wheel angrily, shaking his head.
Dean felt sick. His stomach was roiling unpleasantly, the feeling made worse every time he thought of how easily his little family could split again. What the hell would happen when John left? Would Sam stay? He had to, right?
Or would Dean be alone again?
“S-Sam,” he choked out. “Sam, you gotta pull over.”
“What?” Sam didn’t even look over at him, still glaring at the road ahead of them.
Dean gripped the car door as a roll of nausea rocked through him. “Pull over.”
Sam must have heard the desperation in his voice, because he actually looked over. Whatever was on Dean’s face must have been convincing enough, because the next thing Dean knew, he was unbuckling his seatbelt, throwing Baby’s door open, and hurling his lunch all over the cracked asphalt of the old road.
Desperate for some air that didn’t stink of vomit and angry Alpha, Dean stumbled out of the car and fell to his knees some way away, his breakfast deciding to join the party a few seconds later. His whole body trembled, nearly toppling him face-first into his own bile. He actually would have fallen over, if Sam’s large hand hadn’t gripped his shoulder and heaved him back.
“—kay? Dean, are you okay? Dean. Dean.” Dean found his face being roughly pulled to the side, his eyes clearing of involuntary tears long enough to be able to see Sam’s worried face. His little brother was crouching next to him, long legs folded up, the anger in his scent thankfully masked by concern and anxiousness.
“Sammy,” Dean croaked.
“Dean, what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me you—”
“What the hell is going on?” a familiar voice demanded.
Dean whimpered at the anger in his familial Alpha’s voice. Since Dean was unmated and had no potential suitors, his inner Omega recognized his father as his Alpha. It was the way biology worked, and the frustration in John’s voice was seriously fucking with Dean’s already fragile inner Omega. His emotions felt volatile and dangerous, like a rolling thunderstorm about to break.
Dean bent over and vomited again.
“—does it look like, Dad?” Sam was demanding. His hand hadn’t left Dean’s shoulder, but it had loosened as his attention turned to their father. “Dean’s sick. I don’t know what happened.”
“Is he done?” John asked, not unkindly, but not very sympathetically either. “We need to get back. He’ll feel better in a motel room.”
“No, he’s not fucking done, you asshole! Look at him! God damn it, Dad, this is so fucking typical of you...”
Sam’s hand left Dean’s shoulder as he stood and began to argue with their father again, leaving Dean to support himself and try not to choke on the thickening scent of angry Alpha. His inner Omega wailed at the obvious instability of his family, his mind torturing him with all the easy, easy ways John or Sam could just throw up their hands and leave.
Then Dean would be alone again.
“...ask is that you stop treating us like fucking children, Dad! Fuck’s sake, I—”
“I already told you, Sam, you are my fucking children. Stop arguing with me,” John snarled, the rumble of Alpha Voice beginning to color his tone. On his knees, Dean whimpered slightly. Neither of the angry Alphas noticed, too revved up to remember the Omega nearby.
“I’m sick and tired of this,” Sam hissed. “I’m tired of following you around and fucking going with whatever you say! We saved your ass back there, Dad! If we hadn’t gone from the nest to you, you would have died! You’re not always right, for God’s sake!”
“Noooo...,” Dean moaned quietly, clutching his torso as another wave of nausea rocked through him. The combination of two opposing Alpha Voices and the scent of his angry family members was making him want to vomit again, even though he had nothing left.
It was getting hard to make out distinct words now. John and Sam’s argument was blurring into an overlapping layer of angry words and rumbling Alpha Voice. Dean whimpered loudly and fell back onto his ass on the road, bringing his knees up to his chest and his hands up to his ears. The gesture didn’t block out the choking scent of angry Alpha, but it did help mute the sounds of Dean’s arguing family a little, which was good. The Omega squeezed his eyes shut and sat there for untold minutes, trying not to hyperventilate.
Through the cacophony of his own heartbeat and gasping breaths, Dean heard the end of the argument.
“...done, Dad. I’m fucking done. Get in the Impala with Dean, I don’t give two fucks. I’m taking the truck and I’m getting out of here before I try to break your face in two,” Sam snarled.
“Fucking leave, then! It certainly wouldn’t be out of character for you,” John growled right back.
Dean jolted, eyes blinking blearily open as he realized his little brother was about to walk away. He was about to leave again, and then John would get mad and leave Dean too, and then he’d be all by himself. Instead of doubling over and vomiting again, Dean jolted and began to clumsily force himself up, desperate to reach out and grab his brother’s collar, his sleeve, anything.
“S-Sam! Sam–my, Sam, no—” Dean stumbled, crashing right into his father. John grunted, obviously caught off-guard by the sudden weight of his eldest leaning against him. Dean paid him no mind, too focused on reaching out and catching Sam’s flannel in a desperate attempt to stop him from turning around and walking away. “Sammy, Sam, please. Sammy.” Dean’s voice broke horribly in the middle of the last word.
Dean was pretty sure he was crying now, his tears hot against his cold face. They cooled as they reached his jaw and ran down his throat, becoming just as cold as the air around them. Dean didn’t care that he was acting like the textbook version of a whiny, needy Omega. He needed his family, and he needed them now.
He hiccupped and suddenly found his vision full of worried hazel eyes. Sam’s worried hazel eyes. “Dean? Dean, what the hell? Are you okay? Are you sick?”
Dean sobbed and leaned forward, burying his face in the warm spot at the base of Sam’s neck. He kept it there, praying that Sam wouldn’t shove him away, and was rewarded by a hesitant hand on the back of his head. John’s body was still warm against his side, still supporting most of his weight, but as Dean leaned into his brother desperately, John started to pull away.
“No, no, no,” Dean slurred, pulling partly away from Sam and grabbing at John too, desperation making him clumsy. “Dad, Alpha, please, please, please, please, pl—”
“Dean, stop.”
Dean hiccupped to a halt, eyes widening as he took in the tense expression on his familial Alpha’s face. John was looking at him with something fierce in his dark eyes.
“Dad—” Sam’s voice was soft.
“Dean, tell me what’s going on. Now,” John commanded. His voice was firm but not cruel, and Dean’s inner Omega registered that his Alphas didn’t smell particularly mad, just... worried. Scared, maybe, from Sam.
“You c-can’t leave,” Dean choked out, voice breaking horribly. “You can’t, please, I can’t—You can’t—I-I—Please, Dad, please, I can’t do it, you can’t leave me—” Dean broke off with a wrenching sob, shaking his head to try to convey something, anything. He was gripping Sam and John’s jackets hard enough to turn his knuckles white, his face hot with cooling tears. His whole body felt shaky and off-balance, nausea still rippling through him at the thought of his little family breaking up again and leaving him all alone.
Something warm and heavy—Sam’s hand, Dean’s brain registered distantly—came up and pressed on the side of his face, gently guiding his head back to Sam’s collarbone. Dean snuffled at his brother’s neck instinctively, searching for a calming scent. Sam kept his hand there, throat vibrating as he said something to John.
“—ink it’s his Omega brain, Dad. You know how Dean is with family and stuff. He’s scared we’re gonna leave him. His Omega’s freaking out.” Sam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a nice change to how hard and angry it had been earlier. He hummed something soothing when Dean gave a low, trembling sob at the memory of how furious his Alphas had been at each other.
“Fuck,” John muttered. His voice wasn’t as soft and gentle as Sam’s, but it was definitely kinder than usual. It sounded a little like he was talking to a grieving victim or a frightened child. “We’ve been fighting all afternoon. I’m sure his hormones are fucked to hell.”
“We haven’t seen you in ages, too,” Sam said. To Dean’s relief, it didn’t sound accusatory at all. Sam’s Alpha scent stayed neutral and comforting. “His inner Omega is probably all kinds of screwed up.” Sam cursed softly. “Damn it, Dean. I’m so sorry.”
Dean tried to tell them it was okay, that everything was fine now that they weren’t fighting anymore, but he couldn’t find the strength to do much more than give a soft whine. Sam’s hand shifted slightly, still heavy on Dean’s head, but also carding fingers through his hair now.
“Alright,” John said, voice still soft, but firmer and decisive too. “We’re going back to the motel. C’mon, Sam. Help me get your brother back to the Impala.”
Warm hands slid Dean’s arms over his father’s broad shoulders. He stumbled as he was made to move for the first time, Sam hushing his involuntary whine as he was taken from the warm, safe crook of his brother’s neck. John gave a low, comforting rumble.
“Dad, you can’t—You gotta come with us,” Sam said as the Impala door creaked. Sam clambered into the backseat, Dean pushed into his arms right after. Dean could smell a faint edge to his brother’s scent, something that made his inner Omega whine. Sam put a comforting hand on the back of his head again, still focused on their father. “You can’t leave him, Dad, even to get in the truck.”
“I know, kiddo,” John said understandingly. “I’m gonna close the door and get in the front. You hear that, Dean? I’ll just be a second.”
The Impala door closed with a thump. Dean tensed immediately, inhaling deeply in search of John’s scent. He caught only the faint echoes of Sam’s angry scent from before, making him whine loudly.
“Shh, De, it’s okay,” Sam soothed, pulling Dean against him. He buckled his seatbelt and attempted to buckle Dean’s, wrapping his arms around his trembling brother. “It’s okay. Dad’s comin’ back, just give him a second. He’s gotta get the Colt from the truck, and then we can get back to the motel, okay? Alpha’s gonna be here soon.”
Despite the lack of their father, Dean still relaxed at Sam’s last words. Hearing his brother acknowledge their father as ‘Alpha,’ hearing him defer to John, relaxed Dean on a base level. It told him that his little brother was okay with John being in charge, that he wasn’t challenging his authority. Everything was fine for a few seconds. The natural order of their familial hierarchy was in place, at least for now.
The front, drivers-side door of the Impala creaked open and closed. Suddenly, the car was filled with the perfect mixture of Dean’s familial scents, his Alpha and his brother both stable, for now. There was a sharp undertone of worry, of course, but Dean would take that over anger any day. He relaxed even more into Sam, relieved that his family was all in one place, together as they should be.
“I’ll come back and get the truck when Dean’s more stable,” Dean heard John say to Sam. “We gotta get him back to the motel, get some food in him. I’ll see if I can’t get some extra blankets, maybe we can get him to nest.”
“That’ll be good,” Sam said. One of his hands was stroking through Dean’s hair, his brother’s blunt nails scratching pleasantly against Dean’s scalp. The Omega had relaxed slowly, the combination of his family’s soothing scents and the pleasure of having his hair stroked getting to him. He didn’t quite catch what Sam said next, or what John replied.
Before John even started the Impala, Dean’s eyes were slipping closed. By the time they’d pulled back onto the road, roaring off in the direction of the motel, the Omega was already asleep.
~>>>~
John dared to crack the windows as they neared the motel, glancing back in the rearview to check on his boys again. Dean was sleeping peacefully, nose tucked up against Sam’s throat, his younger brother stroking his hair slowly. Despite himself, John smiled a little. Something sad twinged in his chest. The sight of both his boys content and safe wasn’t one that he’d seen in a long time.
He cursed himself silently. He should have known that Dean wasn’t doing well. The Omega’s anxiety could be clearly seen, when John thought back to all his interactions with his boys that day. Dean always hated when he and Sam fought, and this was no different. John’s grip tightened on the steering wheel at the knowledge that he was mostly the cause of Dean’s breakdown.
“Has he nested at all recently?” he asked quietly over the motor of the Impala.
“No,” Sam said, equally as soft. “I thought he was just fucked-up over some of the recent cases we’ve been on, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve seen him nest at all since we ganked that first ghost after Stanford. He’s been strung pretty tight.”
“Damn it,” John cursed, looking back at the road. He was careful to mask his upset feelings, trying not to let them into his scent, but Dean whined all the same. The kid had always had an uncannily good sense of smell. John smiled slightly at the memory of all the cases they’d solved just because of Dean’s sensitive nose.
“Dad, are we close?” Sam asked a few minutes later. “He’s still shaking pretty bad.”
“Is he cold?” John asked. Even as he asked it, he was taking one hand off the wheel to unbutton his jacket. It was awkward, since it was a bulky piece of clothing, but John hadn’t buckled his seatbelt. He managed to pull off his jacket easily enough, then reached backward and handed it to Sam, who took it a moment later. “Tell me if he keeps shaking, alright?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam agreed. There was some shuffling, Dean making a frustrated noise as Sam presumably pulled him from his scenting place. John chuckled softly at how well he knew his boys, listening for the pleased sound as Dean realized he was being wrapped in a jacket that smelled of his familial Alpha. Sam laughed quietly. “Idiot.”
John pulled into the motel parking lot, stopping the Impala and putting her in park. He kept the engine running, hoping it would soothe Dean, and turned to look at his youngest. “I’m going to have to take over. You reserved the room, so you’re gonna have to take the key and go ask for more blankets. I’ll watch Dean until then.”
“You think he’s gonna let me?” Sam asked, looking down at where Dean was playing octopus against him.
“Probably not without a fight,” John sighed. He took in the desperate way Dean was holding onto his brother, the pallor of his skin. Time to reevaluate, then. “Maybe we should wait until he’s more settled. What do you think?”
Sam blinked, looking surprised that his opinion was being asked. John knew it wasn’t his usual course of action, but he had to admit that Sam knew his brother better. It hurt, but it was the truth. “I think we should wait,” he said, looking down at Dean’s sleeping face. “He’s gonna pitch a fit if I leave now. It might actually be better if he’s awake when I go, so you can explain to him. I don’t know if he’s gonna be coherent enough to understand it, but it’s probably better than subconsciously realizing that one of his Alphas is leaving.”
“At the very least, he won’t wake up grumpy,” John agreed, smiling a little to mask how impressed he was at Sam’s reasoning. The kid wasn’t dumb, he knew that better than anyone, but sometimes he forgot just how intelligent Sam could be. “Okay, let’s get your brother inside. Number fourteen, right?”
“Yeah.” Sam waited while John climbed out of the Impala and opened the back door, reaching in for Dean. Instead of immediately handing over his brother, though, Sam shook his head and scooted out with Dean in his arms instead. John watched with wide eyes as his youngest heaved his brother up and into the air with little more than a grunt, carrying Dean toward motel room fourteen.
John closed the car up, locked it, and hurried to get the motel door before Sam got there so the kid could walk right in and set Dean down on the nearest bed.
“How’s he doing?” John asked, getting close for a second so he could reach out and hold a hand to Dean’s forehead. Sam was right; the Omega was shaking, and badly. John felt a horrible twist of guilt in his stomach, wishing he’d noticed his son’s struggling before all of this. Dean leaned into the hand on his forehead with a happy hum.
“I think he’s okay. He seemed relatively fine when you left to close the car, so I’m thinking he’ll be okay if you leave the room for a few minutes,” Sam said. “I think the scent on the jacket is balancing out his hormones, for now.”
John smiled a little, faintly surprised by how small Dean managed to look when he was bundled up in his father’s jacket. “Okay, that’s good. You think I have time to go grab some food or something?” he asked. “We all need to eat, and Dean got rid of his breakfast and lunch already.”
“Yeah, but you gotta be fast, Dad,” Sam said. “He’ll notice.”
“I’ll be quick, Sammy, don’t worry,” John promised seriously. “Take care of your brother, okay? Call me if he gets worse.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam agreed, looking solemnly down at Dean.
John was struck by how similar this situation seemed. The only difference between now and all those other times in the past was that Dean was the one being taken care of, not Sam. With the exception of times when he’d gotten really torn up on a hunt, Dean was almost always the one buzzing around like an overprotective mother hen, patching wounds and pouring water and fetching painkillers. John had always thought that Dean didn’t often show his Omega side, and maybe he was right, but Dean was certainly the caretaker of the family.
Now, it was time for Sam and himself to return the favor.
John smoothed a hand over Dean’s forehead, a mimicry of what he’d used to do when his eldest was just a boy. “I’ll be right back, kiddo. Be good for Sammy,” he murmured.
John straightened, nodded at Sam, and grabbed the Impala keys. With one last look to his boys to make sure they were okay, he went to the door and opened it as quietly as he could. Thankfully, it didn’t creak too badly, so Dean didn’t startle or notice. With a soft swish of displaced air and a quiet noise of the door slipping shut, John was out of the motel room and disappearing into the night.
~>>>~
Dean wouldn’t let Sam move more than a few inches. After a good twenty minutes of careful coaxing and soothing, Sam managed to get both of their boots off and his own back against the headboard, Dean resting against his chest peacefully. The Omega was still wrapped in John’s jacket, his head dipping every now and then so he could scent at the collar. Sam prayed that the jacket would be a good enough substitute for the real thing until their father could get back, not wanting to know what kind of damage would be dealt if Dean woke up and found John wasn’t actually there.
Sam squeezed his brother gently in his arms, burying his nose in Dean’s hair to breathe in the comforting scent of happy Omega. Dean’s contentment helped ease the twisting guilt that was writhing in Sam’s chest, but only barely.
He bit his lip at the memory of Dean’s tearstained, desperate face, the way he’d begged Sam to stay even when he could barely stand up straight. It made Sam’s argument with their father seem stupid and trivial. Dean was like this, unconscious and practically comatose, because Sam hadn’t been able to be ordered around for more than a few minutes. Sam was ashamed of himself.
Dean murmured in his sleep, tucking his head underneath Sam’s jaw in what the Alpha recognized as a comforting gesture. He smiled sadly at the realization that even in sleep, Dean was prioritizing his happiness. Dean’s soft, fluffy hair brushed gently underneath Sam’s chin as he leaned down to press a small kiss to the crown of the Omega’s head.
The key clattered in the lock, startling Sam badly. His jolting made Dean mumble sleepily, the Omega’s green eyes blinking blearily open. For a moment, Dean just squinted around, taking in his surroundings. “Sam?” he croaked, looking up at Sam in dazed confusion.
“I’m here, Dean,” Sam promised.
He saw the moment Dean registered that their father wasn’t there. The Omega sat up, his panic seeming to keep him from hearing the sound of the motel room door opening, allowing John inside.
“Wh-Where’s Dad?” Dean slurred, looking around wildly. His hands, which had been loosely grasping Sam’s shirt, tightened considerably. “S-Sam, where’s Dad? Where’s Alpha? Sam—”
“Shh, it’s okay, kiddo. I’m here,” John said, his low voice surprisingly gentle. He set the bags he was carrying down, tossed the keys on the bedside table, and knelt on the edge of the bed. Dean practically fell into him, his instincts likely demanding that he be held by his Alpha, immediately. Sam quirked a small smile at the image of his father’s eyes widening in surprise, the slow, hesitant way his arms closed around his oldest.
“Where’d you go?” Dean mumbled against John’s neck. He was still slurring, signaling that he was still very out of it. Sam was pretty sure his brother was going to be very embarrassed when he emerged from whatever haze his inner Omega had triggered. Even as the Alpha quirked a smile at the amount of teasing material he had right here, he also decided he was never going to make fun of Dean for this. Not when it wasn’t even his fault, anyway. Besides, this was nothing to be ashamed of. Dean subsisted off of far less touching and affection than the typical Omega needed, something Sam was all too aware of sometimes. This was the least his brother deserved.
“Went to get some food,” John explained to Dean’s fluffy hair. “I got you some pie.”
“You did?” Dean asked lazily. His grip on Sam’s shirt had loosened some, but it was still there.
“Yep. If you let Sammy go, he can get it for you and we can get some food back in ya,” John said, rubbing a gentle hand up and down Dean’s spine. “You’re still shaking, kiddo. We gotta raise your blood sugar.”
“Don’t wanna,” Dean mumbled, grip tightening on Sam’s shirt as the younger Alpha made to pull away. Sam raised his eyes to meet John’s, searching for what he should do in his father’s face.
John patted Dean’s back gently. “Let go of your brother, Dean. He’s only gonna be gone a few seconds.” At the rising scent of anxiety in the air, John began to rumble soothingly, a deep purring from the base of his chest. “Do you want to count with me? We’ll count to five, okay? I promise, Sammy’ll be back before we’re done.” John met eyes with Sam over the top of Dean’s head. “One. Two...”
Sam clambered off the bed, rummaged through the bags on the ground, gave up, and grabbed the whole damn thing. He returned to the bed as John and Dean finished counting to five, the Omega immediately latching onto Sam the second his brother was on the bed with him.
“Look, De. Apple pie, your favorite. It’s the homemade shit that you love, too,” Sam said, holding it out for his brother to see. It was the good shit—the kind of pie that was baked daily in a specialty bakery. Cost twice as much, but Sam could see that his father didn’t give two shits about that right now. He felt his chest warm.
Dean allowed Sam to prop him up against his chest, but he drew the line at being fed. The Omega’s hand trembled badly as he lifted bites of apple pie to his mouth, but he purred happily as he worked his way through half of it, even going as far as allowing John off the bed so the Alpha could draw the salt lines around the room.
“Only two beds,” John said as he lined the bathroom window. He wasn’t looking at them. “I can take the floor, but you’ll have to give me a pillow or something. Dean won’t let me go back to my own motel.”
“You can take the other bed,” Sam offered, swallowing thickly. Dean was still purring against his chest, eating pie contentedly, completely zoned out. “I’ll... I can share with Dean.”
His father looked at him then, dark eyes unreadable in the shadows created by the bathroom light. “You want to share the bed with Dean?”
“’S bigger than other motel beds,” Sam said, which was bullshit. They both knew it. His arms tightened around his older brother, something protective rising in his chest. “Besides, I don’t mind. He’s probably gonna demand that someone sleep with him anyway. Might as well be me.”
John quirked a small smile, shaking the salt canister as he began to put it away in one of their bags. “You gonna make a pillow barrier again?”
“I’ll push him off the bed when he kicks me,” Sam said, smiling too. He and his father laughed quietly at the memory of all his and Dean’s childhood rituals. They’d shared a bed one too many times growing up, and sometimes two growing teenage boys just got too big for crappy motel twin beds.
“You do that,” John said. He zipped up the duffel. “Dean, you done with that pie?”
There was no response. A quick check by Sam confirmed that the Omega had fallen asleep, his fork still in his hand, the fingers of his other curled loosely around Sam’s sleeve. The Alpha felt a small smile tug at him at the image of his brother’s adorably peaceful face.
“I think he’s down for the count,” John murmured. “Give me the pie, I’ll save it for tomorrow morning. Do you want the bathroom first?”
“I’m okay. I don’t think Dean’s gonna let me up for a while,” Sam said. “I’ve done worse than skip a night of brushing my teeth.”
“Alright,” John agreed. “Go on and lay down, then.”
Sam scooted himself and his sleeping brother down, grunting in amusement as Dean made a protesting noise when he was jostled. When they were both in relatively comfortable positions, John grabbed some of the blankets he’d gotten from the front desk and draped them over his boys, even taking the time to make sure Dean’s arm was tucked underneath.
Sam’s chest ached with the familiarity of it, the memories of those off nights when John was feeling particularly generous, or when he or Dean had nearly died. The warmth of his brother sleeping beside him, the weight of the blankets tucked over him, the rarely visible protectiveness in their father’s eyes...
Sam smiled softly. “’Night, Dad.”
John sat down on the other bed, reached over, and turned off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, boys.”
He quietly completed his nightly routine and crawled into bed, listening for a moment to the comfortable breathing rhythm of his kids. With a soft sigh of deeply felt contentment, John closed his eyes. A few minutes later, the last of the little family fell asleep.