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No matter what trouble befell him, no matter how hopeless a situation looked, Sam knew he was safe. Even when he was battered, bloody, and scared, there was always that thought at the back of his mind that things would turn out. Ever since he’d been cognizant, even if Dean wasn’t around, he knew he would be if push came to shove. If there ever was a constant in his life, it was Dean, and his unending faith and protection.
Sam had always hoped, had always prayed, that there was a God, some higher power, to make the things that went bump in the night cower. For a long time, he didn’t have a name for it. He supposed that it would all culminate into one word for him eventually. The semi-return to hunting had had him praying more, lately, and sometimes these prayers were closed off by one word, one thing that invoked nothing but calm for him.
“Dean.”
While he’d been driving, and Dean had been napping, curled up against the door of the Impala, Sam had listened to the radio. Between one dusty, rat spit Kansas town and the next, the only thing he’d been able to tune into properly had been two different religious stations. With pastors chanting their hatred for those that didn’t fall in line with them, he hadn’t felt comfortable. And then, a sermon started by another man, someone with a calmer voice, but no less urgent, felt like an oasis in the desert.
“Let me bring your attention to Ephesians 6:16-17 [16] In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; [17]and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”
“Shield of faith”, something about that struck Sam, and he absently glanced to his brother’s sleeping face. While he looked calm now, his lips slightly parted, his face lax, eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones, Sam knew that could change in a heartbeat. Sometimes, all he wanted to see was Dean relaxing, being happy.
Dean had always been his protector, like living armor. A shield, a sword when necessary, his knight in shining armor on more than one occasion. It was amazing, really, how much Dean would do for him. If nothing else, he knew his brother would always find him, would always come to save him, even if it was a close call.
That was why he let him sleep. Dean needed his rest if he was going to be so vigilant for him. He loved his brother so much, absently reaching over to caress his cheek. Dean leaned into it, his eyelids fluttering against his cheekbones.