Some Kind of Monster - Gen, Sam and Dean
Title: Some Kind of Monster
Pairing, characters: Sam, Dean
Genre: Gen, unless you wear your slash goggles good and tight and are dead-set on it being Wincest, but that's not how I intended it.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,280-ish.
Summary: Sam is tired of Dean's sleeping habits.
Spoilers: Takes place a bit after Lazarus Rising. I assume everyone has seen that by now.
Note: Title comes from a Metallica song. This is actually a re-write of a fic I wrote a few weeks ago. It's over four times longer now and includes more than the last one and personally, I think I wrote this one a lot better. I also discovered I apparently wanted to make Dean cry. I really wasn't planning that, but it's good. All feedback is welcome.
Yet another night of nightmares. Since Dean had returned from Hell, neither he or Sam had actually slept a full, undisturbed night. Dean spent his night sweating and screaming, until he woke Sam. Sam would wake him up, try to talk to him, get irritated at Dean's uncooperative, surly attitude and go back to bed. He wasn't stupid though. He knew Dean never went back to sleep after that, preferring sleep deprivation to facing his demons again. He would stay awake and drink until Sam got up and it was time to go wherever they needed to be and Dean would act like everything was perfectly okay, while Sam rolled his eyes and knew better. Until the next night, at least, when it all started over. Tonight, however, as Dean let out a pained yell that made Sam startle awake, Sam decided to try something else. If it failed, he'd put up with Dean's attitude again, and consider it just a failed experiment. But if it worked, maybe they could both actually start sleeping again. Sam knew if Dean didn't start sleeping, really sleeping, he was going to hurt himself and be able to prevent that but doing nothing wasn't an idea Sam was thrilled about.
He pulled the covers back on his bed and stood up, trying to decide how would be best to proceed. He took a deep breath as he decided. Instead of waking Dean, as per usual, he pulled the covers back on Dean's bed and laid down behind him. Dean was still thrashing against the monsters in his head, so Sam firmly, but gently, pulled Dean close and wrapped his arms around him, pinning Dean's arms against his body. Leaning close, Sam whispered soft words in Dean's ear, hoping to coax him into relaxing. He didn't say anything profound, just soft affirmations that everything was okay, that Sam was there, that they were safe. He wasn't sure Dean could actually hear him, but after a minute or two, Dean calmed down enough for Sam to let his arms go. He still remained with his chest pressed against his brother's back, and his arms around him, due to the fact that Dean may have stopped moving so much, but he was still making noises as though he were in great pain. Sam felt his heart break a little as sad whimpers escaped Dean's mouth.
Sam leaned in close to Dean's ear again. He remembered a time, not long after Dean pulled him out of Stanford, that they were on a hunt and Dean told him that humming Metallica calmed him down. It seemed so bizarre, yet so acutely Dean to do that, that Sam even remembered what song he'd been humming. True, that little adventure was years ago, but Sam didn't really know what else to do. It couldn't hurt. So he started humming, thankful that Dean played enough Metallica for him to remember the tune. It seemed a little strange to him, "Some Kind of Monster" wasn't really a lullaby in anyone's book, but he kept on. Hoping for something.
After he finished the song, he noticed that while Dean was still making small, pained noises, he felt much more relaxed. Sam grinned. It had helped. He had been right. He let out a small satisfied sigh and started the song over. This time, Dean was breathing deep and even by the end of it, all noises being replaced by soft snores. Sam smiled, and thought about letting Dean go and returning to his own bed, but he realized he simply didn't want to. So he didn't. Instead, he pressed his forehead against the back of Dean's neck and breathed in the smell of his brother. He felt a peaceful calm flow through him as he recognized the smells; old leather, some various liquor Dean had been drinking before, the cologne that Dean swore he never used, and something. The something, Sam noticed, he couldn't quite place. It was something unique, only to Dean and it was probably Sam's favorite smell in the world. He remembered smelling it when he would have nightmares and crawl in bed with Dean when he was little. It was the smell of home.
Sam knew that in the morning, Dean would make fun of him for this, tell him he was a girl, that he really needed to lose the touchy-feely crap and other things that Sam just couldn't bring himself to care about. Dean was sleeping. Really sleeping and he seemed content where he was, and moments of peace like this were few and far between for them, and Sam wanted to hold on to this one for as long as he could. He squeezed Dean a little tighter and fell asleep curled around his older brother.
Sam was wrong though. In the morning, he woke up to see that Dean has turned around in the night and they were face-to-face now only inches apart, Dean still sleeping. Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn't trapped until Dean's weight. Sam knew, or thought he knew what was coming, a few minutes later when Dean finally opened his eyes. He watched as Dean looked at Sam, blurry-eyed, closed his eyes and opened them again, as if expecting Sam to disappear. Finally Dean spoke in an almost-whisper,
"Sam, what are you doing?" Dean didn't seem angry or annoyed, so Sam decided the best course of action was honesty.
"You were having nightmares, again, and I was trying to help." Sam said. He watched emotions flicker over Dean's face, as though he were glancing through his options trying to decide which one to pick. Sam braced himself for whichever one he might pick, but was surprised when Dean gave away into a tired expression and pulled himself closer to Sam, burying his face into the younger brother's t-shirt. Sam felt Dean shake slightly, and instictively pulled him closer. It took a few more shivers and the realization that his shirt was wet to finally comprehend that Dean, his Dean, the same Dean that had pushed him away so many times before, was quietly crying into his shoulder. Sam was absolutely stunned. After a few awkward, unsure seconds, he decided to just followed his intuition, never having dealt with his brother crying like this before.
While stroking his hair with one hand, Sam ran his other hand up and down Dean's spine and whispered softly, "It's okay, I'm here. We're safe, you're safe, it's just me. It's just us, Dean." Sam repeated words along these same lines for a few long minutes, as Dean continued to shake slightly with each sob and sniffle quietly. Sam wasn't exactly scared, just alarmed. Dean didn't really do this. A few occasional tears, yeah, sure. In their line of work and their lives, it was practically expected. But sobbing, in front of Sam? Emotional displays were always more Sam's territory. Suddenly, something clicked inside of Sam that made his heart break for his brother. This is how bad Hell had been. This is how Dean had been broken. It essentially brought Dean to his knees. Sam felt himself suppress a sob, and he gripped Dean a little tighter, whispered a little fiercer. After a few long minutes, the shivers subsided and he felt Dean moved just enough to wipe his eyes and then settle back down against his not-so-little brother. Neither of them wanted to move, so they didn't, both completely content with their position. Sam was still a little freaked out by the whole scene, but he felt hope that everything would be okay rise in his chest as he heard Dean half-whisper reassuring words.
"If you tell anyone about this, I will deny it and then kill you."
Pairing, characters: Sam, Dean
Genre: Gen, unless you wear your slash goggles good and tight and are dead-set on it being Wincest, but that's not how I intended it.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,280-ish.
Summary: Sam is tired of Dean's sleeping habits.
Spoilers: Takes place a bit after Lazarus Rising. I assume everyone has seen that by now.
Note: Title comes from a Metallica song. This is actually a re-write of a fic I wrote a few weeks ago. It's over four times longer now and includes more than the last one and personally, I think I wrote this one a lot better. I also discovered I apparently wanted to make Dean cry. I really wasn't planning that, but it's good. All feedback is welcome.
Yet another night of nightmares. Since Dean had returned from Hell, neither he or Sam had actually slept a full, undisturbed night. Dean spent his night sweating and screaming, until he woke Sam. Sam would wake him up, try to talk to him, get irritated at Dean's uncooperative, surly attitude and go back to bed. He wasn't stupid though. He knew Dean never went back to sleep after that, preferring sleep deprivation to facing his demons again. He would stay awake and drink until Sam got up and it was time to go wherever they needed to be and Dean would act like everything was perfectly okay, while Sam rolled his eyes and knew better. Until the next night, at least, when it all started over. Tonight, however, as Dean let out a pained yell that made Sam startle awake, Sam decided to try something else. If it failed, he'd put up with Dean's attitude again, and consider it just a failed experiment. But if it worked, maybe they could both actually start sleeping again. Sam knew if Dean didn't start sleeping, really sleeping, he was going to hurt himself and be able to prevent that but doing nothing wasn't an idea Sam was thrilled about.
He pulled the covers back on his bed and stood up, trying to decide how would be best to proceed. He took a deep breath as he decided. Instead of waking Dean, as per usual, he pulled the covers back on Dean's bed and laid down behind him. Dean was still thrashing against the monsters in his head, so Sam firmly, but gently, pulled Dean close and wrapped his arms around him, pinning Dean's arms against his body. Leaning close, Sam whispered soft words in Dean's ear, hoping to coax him into relaxing. He didn't say anything profound, just soft affirmations that everything was okay, that Sam was there, that they were safe. He wasn't sure Dean could actually hear him, but after a minute or two, Dean calmed down enough for Sam to let his arms go. He still remained with his chest pressed against his brother's back, and his arms around him, due to the fact that Dean may have stopped moving so much, but he was still making noises as though he were in great pain. Sam felt his heart break a little as sad whimpers escaped Dean's mouth.
Sam leaned in close to Dean's ear again. He remembered a time, not long after Dean pulled him out of Stanford, that they were on a hunt and Dean told him that humming Metallica calmed him down. It seemed so bizarre, yet so acutely Dean to do that, that Sam even remembered what song he'd been humming. True, that little adventure was years ago, but Sam didn't really know what else to do. It couldn't hurt. So he started humming, thankful that Dean played enough Metallica for him to remember the tune. It seemed a little strange to him, "Some Kind of Monster" wasn't really a lullaby in anyone's book, but he kept on. Hoping for something.
After he finished the song, he noticed that while Dean was still making small, pained noises, he felt much more relaxed. Sam grinned. It had helped. He had been right. He let out a small satisfied sigh and started the song over. This time, Dean was breathing deep and even by the end of it, all noises being replaced by soft snores. Sam smiled, and thought about letting Dean go and returning to his own bed, but he realized he simply didn't want to. So he didn't. Instead, he pressed his forehead against the back of Dean's neck and breathed in the smell of his brother. He felt a peaceful calm flow through him as he recognized the smells; old leather, some various liquor Dean had been drinking before, the cologne that Dean swore he never used, and something. The something, Sam noticed, he couldn't quite place. It was something unique, only to Dean and it was probably Sam's favorite smell in the world. He remembered smelling it when he would have nightmares and crawl in bed with Dean when he was little. It was the smell of home.
Sam knew that in the morning, Dean would make fun of him for this, tell him he was a girl, that he really needed to lose the touchy-feely crap and other things that Sam just couldn't bring himself to care about. Dean was sleeping. Really sleeping and he seemed content where he was, and moments of peace like this were few and far between for them, and Sam wanted to hold on to this one for as long as he could. He squeezed Dean a little tighter and fell asleep curled around his older brother.
Sam was wrong though. In the morning, he woke up to see that Dean has turned around in the night and they were face-to-face now only inches apart, Dean still sleeping. Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn't trapped until Dean's weight. Sam knew, or thought he knew what was coming, a few minutes later when Dean finally opened his eyes. He watched as Dean looked at Sam, blurry-eyed, closed his eyes and opened them again, as if expecting Sam to disappear. Finally Dean spoke in an almost-whisper,
"Sam, what are you doing?" Dean didn't seem angry or annoyed, so Sam decided the best course of action was honesty.
"You were having nightmares, again, and I was trying to help." Sam said. He watched emotions flicker over Dean's face, as though he were glancing through his options trying to decide which one to pick. Sam braced himself for whichever one he might pick, but was surprised when Dean gave away into a tired expression and pulled himself closer to Sam, burying his face into the younger brother's t-shirt. Sam felt Dean shake slightly, and instictively pulled him closer. It took a few more shivers and the realization that his shirt was wet to finally comprehend that Dean, his Dean, the same Dean that had pushed him away so many times before, was quietly crying into his shoulder. Sam was absolutely stunned. After a few awkward, unsure seconds, he decided to just followed his intuition, never having dealt with his brother crying like this before.
While stroking his hair with one hand, Sam ran his other hand up and down Dean's spine and whispered softly, "It's okay, I'm here. We're safe, you're safe, it's just me. It's just us, Dean." Sam repeated words along these same lines for a few long minutes, as Dean continued to shake slightly with each sob and sniffle quietly. Sam wasn't exactly scared, just alarmed. Dean didn't really do this. A few occasional tears, yeah, sure. In their line of work and their lives, it was practically expected. But sobbing, in front of Sam? Emotional displays were always more Sam's territory. Suddenly, something clicked inside of Sam that made his heart break for his brother. This is how bad Hell had been. This is how Dean had been broken. It essentially brought Dean to his knees. Sam felt himself suppress a sob, and he gripped Dean a little tighter, whispered a little fiercer. After a few long minutes, the shivers subsided and he felt Dean moved just enough to wipe his eyes and then settle back down against his not-so-little brother. Neither of them wanted to move, so they didn't, both completely content with their position. Sam was still a little freaked out by the whole scene, but he felt hope that everything would be okay rise in his chest as he heard Dean half-whisper reassuring words.
"If you tell anyone about this, I will deny it and then kill you."