Work Text:
One "Quiet" Night
“Hey Sammy, you ever stop to think about how weird our lives are?”
“No," Sam answered, wondering why his brother had decided to get so chatty just as they were supposed to be trying to fall asleep.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You never think about it?” Dean pushed.
“Not even once.” Sam shook his head. “Why would I? We hunt monsters, tangle with angels and demons and have come back from the dead so many times I can’t even keep track any more. So, no, Dean, not one single time in my entire life have I stopped to think about how weird our lives are.”
Dean snorted.
“Why would I ever waste time pondering the weirdness of our lives anyway?”
“I have no idea,” Dean answered.
Sam sighed and shifted onto his side so he wouldn’t have to stare at the ceiling anymore. Dean was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his arms crossed under his head, fingers tapping the headboard. Even after a lifetime, and technically being a full grown adult, seeing his brother there on the other bed was still so familiar and comforting
"Stop staring at me," Dean said, glancing over with a glare. "It's creepy."
Sam rolled his eyes, rolling over so his back was to his brother. “Remember when this used to be easy?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
They fell silent for a few minutes, then Dean asked, “Remember the good old days?”
Sam laughed. “What good old days? The ones where we stitched each other up in crappy motel rooms in boring little towns across the country? Or the ones where we fought tooth and nail and pretty much disagreed with each other about everything? Or did you mean some other good old days that I don’t remember?”
“We didn’t disagree about everything.”
“Yes, we did.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“We did.” Sam rolled back over and pushed up on one elbow to glare at his brother.
“We didn’t,” Dean insisted.
“We can’t even discuss it without disagreeing with each other.”
Dean waved a hand dismissively.
Silence descended once again.
Sam flopped back down onto the bed and closed his eyes. Maybe Dean was finally going to fall asleep and shut up. A little peace and quiet wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It was the middle of the night, after all. Some people slept in the middle of the night.
He sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked immediately.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re sighing again.” Dean was tapping his knuckles against the headboard in a rhythm that Sam couldn’t quite place.
“What do you mean again?”
“That was your twelfth sigh since we got here.”
“You’re counting?”
“Yeah. I'm bored. What else am I gonna do?”
“Sleep?” Sam stared at his brother in the darkness.
“Can’t.”
“Neither can I because you won’t shut up.”
Dean tapped his knuckles in a different rhythm.
New song, Sam assumed.
“Face it, Sammy,” Dean said, sounding too awake for how tired he’d complained of being on the way to the motel, “we’ve got insomnia.”
“It’s not insomnia if you can’t sleep because someone’s talking.” Sam debated rolling to the other side and burying his head under the pillow.
“You aren’t not sleeping because I’m talking.”
"What?" Sam wasn't sleeping, but he was almost too tired to sort that sentence out.
"You aren't sleeping because…well, I don't know." Dean rolled onto his side, propped up on one elbow. "Why don't you tell me why you aren't sleeping?"
"Because you won’t. Stop. Talking."
"Let's go out." Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up.
"Go out?" Sam huffed a laugh. "Where exactly? The gas station? It's not even a twenty-four hour one, Dean. And it was like ten miles the other direction. There's not a town for another ten miles beyond that and I'm pretty sure they don't have anything that will be open at this hour, either. This room, this motel, is it."
"Come on." Dean was on his feet, yanking the blankets off Sam's bed. "We're going out."
"Dean, you have got to be kidding me right now." Sam sat up, reaching for the blankets only for Dean to grab his arm and bodily pull him to his feet.
His coat was shoved into his arms and Sam found himself swept along, as he so often was, in his brother's wake.
Dean grinned as he dragged Sam outside. It was well past three AM and they'd been up all day and then some. By all rights, they should've been sound asleep, exhausted from the day. They were exhausted, but Dean was still riding high on adrenaline. Sam was just thinking too hard. As usual.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked, struggling through the weeds and untamed underbrush that surrounded the abandoned motel they'd found just off the two lane.
"For a walk."
"No, a walk is down a sidewalk. This isn't a walk. This isn't even a hike. It's a trek and -"
And Dean tuned him out.
It was a cold, clear moonlit November night and the fresh air made his nose freeze and his lungs twitch but it felt so good after the day they'd had. It had been a relatively easy case all things considered, but it had been a long week on top of long months and long years and maybe he really was getting old. Dean huffed, shaking his head.
"What?" Sam asked, finally stopping his grumbling.
"What?" Dean cast a glance over his shoulder. The moon filtering through the pines was enough that he could catch fleeting glances of his brother's face.
"What are you huffing about?" Sam asked, arms wrapped around himself. "You're the one who dragged us out here."
"Yes, I did. Fresh air is what we need after being cooped up in that mine all day." Dean held up a finger when Sam's mouth opened to immediately protest. "Don't even say that motel had fresh air because that room was rank enough I could smell socks from the late 1960's decomposing in the closet."
Sam laughed, shaking his head and elbowing Dean as he caught up. "You're an idiot."
"Yeah, well, you're the one following me through the woods at three in the morning, so what does that make you, little brother?" Dean grinned.
"It makes me the only person in the vicinity that you could annoy." Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean clapped Sam's shoulder and pushed him forward.
"Where are we going?" Sam asked, coming to a complete stop.
"Stop fussing and keep walking."
"I do not fuss."
Dean snorted, pushing past his brother and, once again, ignoring Sam's fussing. He didn't exactly have a destination in mind, just knew they'd needed to take a walk. Maybe it was because they were getting older, but it seemed harder to shake things off these days. Injuries, sleepless nights, the troubling things they saw on their cases, the memories of…well, everything. More and more, he longed to get home and forget about the outside world for awhile. The Bunker wasn't exactly what most people would picture if you said the word home, but it was their home. In some ways, the only one they'd ever had. And that made it special. That made it important. Tomorrow, they'd be back safe within its walls.
Shoving his hands in his pockets against the chill air, Dean knew they'd have to stop somewhere on the way home. Like old Mother Hubbard, their cupboards were bare and it was almost Thanksgiving. Pick up some turkey. Pick up a pie, no several, pies. He smiled at the thought. Thanksgiving at home. Not a bad way to end the week.
"Wow."
Sam's soft voice drew Dean to a stop. Lost in his own introspection, he'd almost missed the view. Dean joined Sam at the top of a ridge, staring out at a dark valley spreading out before them and lit from above by a huge full moon and thousands of stars. The familiar canopy of night-sky seemed to stretch even wider up here in the mountains.
"Not such a bad thing being twenty miles from a town, huh?" Dean asked softly as they took in the breathtaking sight.
"Not a bad thing at all." Sam smiled.
They went quiet then, absorbing the glory of the scene. It was the most peaceful moment they'd had in a very long time and Dean was loathe to let it end, yet the cold night air sank into his bones a lot faster than it used to. Sam was shivering beside him and, after a glance, they nodded and started heading back the way they'd come.
Silence enveloped them the entire trip back to the motel and it was the nice, comfortable silence that came from a lifetime spent side by side.
Even though his teeth were chattering, Dean hated the thought of going back into the smelly motel room. His frozen body didn't care and was exceptionally happy once he was settled back under the covers in bed. The restlessness that had plagued him earlier was gone and he hadn't heard Sam sigh a single time. Dean was close to sleep and yet…
"Hey Sammy?"
"Hm?"
“You ever stop to think about how great our lives are?” Dean stared into the darkness, just able to make out his brother's form on the other bed.
It was silent for a long time, then Sam whispered back, "Yeah, actually. I do. All the time."
Dean smiled, closing his eyes. "Yeah. Me too."