Summary:  Sam’s mind whirled, Dean sounded like John Winchester.  He realized at that moment, Dean had stepped totally back into ‘super big brother mode.
Disclaimer:  All things "Supernatural" belong to Kripke.

Sam stirred in the bed, he tilted his face up, scrubbing his open palms over his burning eyes. God, his head was hurting, he groaned as he lowered his hands to the bed sheet, unconsciously twisting it tightly in both hands. He turned his heavy head toward his brother, who sat sleeping in the chair next to his bed. He needed to go to the bathroom, but hated to wake up his brother to get there. He rose slowly, pushing himself to a setting position, his hand grabbed shakily for the bedrail. The bathroom wasn’t that far, he thought, his stomach churning, bile rising up in his throat. He steadied himself against the railing, waiting for the nausea to pass, holding one hand to his parted lips. Swinging his feet to the cold hospital floor, his head began to spin; he stood slowly on his wobbly legs, fear of letting go of the bed, making him very frustrated.

“What a wuze”, he told himself.

Moving one foot in front of the other, he felt himself sway as he slowly moved toward the bathroom door.

“Just a few more steps”, he told himself.

Suddenly, the spinning grew in intensity; he blinked bleary eyelids and tried to steady himself against the wall with one hand, other gripping to his temple. He didn’t want to wake his brother, but fear of falling, causing himself harm, and his brother to be very pissed off, made him make the choice to do so.

“De…an...n”, Sam stammered out in a low whisper, leaning heavily against the wall.

Dean’s head shifted to the side, chin pushing down on his chest, his voice low and whispered.

“Tired”, he mumbled, “Sam, let me sleep”.

Suddenly, Dean’s eyes popped open, his memory of where he was, where his brother was, bombarding his senses, full big brother mode kicking in. His eyes darted around the room, seeing the empty bed, then landing intently on Sam swaying, his back pressed up against the wall, too far from the bed to make it back, to far from anything to hang on to.

“Sammy”, he stammered as his feet hit the floor, moving in quick steps to his brothers side, wrapping his arms around his brothers waist, he held on tightly.

“What are you doing?”

Sam never wanted anything more, he needed his brother to wake up, to help him. His head was spinning, his limbs felt heavy, and he fought for control of his breathing. Through the ringing in his ears, he barely heard his weak voice say his brother’s name. Then strong arms were grounding him, he felt himself sway into his brother’s grasp, leaning his aching head against his brothers shoulder. Dean’s garbled words making it slowly through the haze around him.

“Bath…room”, he managed to say.

“You should have woke me up, Sam”.

Dean pulled one of Sam’s arms around his own neck and pulled him in to his body, leading him slowly to the bathroom. Once at the bathroom door, Dean eyed Sam slowly, looking over into his face.

“Can you do this by yourself”?

Sam grabbed one hand on the railing by the toilet and looked over at his brother.

“You are so not help…helping me go to the bathroom”. Sam’s weary voice croaked.

Dean nodded his head as if in agreement, and pulled the door close to a crack.

“Well, I am not going anywhere, I will be right here”.

He turned his back to the door, standing firmly in front of it.

“You’re an idiot sometimes, why didn’t you just wake me up, you could have fallen”. Dean’s voice tinted with anger, he shuffled on his feet, rubbing one hand through his sleep mussed hair.

Sam’s lips pursed close tightly. He knew his brother would be angry with him, if he had just done this on his own, he was such a wuze, he thought again. When he finished, he slowly opened the door, hanging tightly to the door handle, Dean grabbed him gripping his elbow. Sam smirked at his brother, sweat beads appearing on his forehead.

“Com on kiddo lets get you back in the bed”.

Dean’s anger melted as he leaned in again grabbing hold of his brother, leading him slowly across the room to deposit him on his bed. He pulled the covers up around Sam, as he dropped his weary head to the pillow. Sam’s eyelids closed, a low moan escaping slowly from his lips.

“You need something else for the pain?” Dean leaned in to look at Sam’s face.

“Yea…don’t want it, but my head is pounding”. Sam scrunched up his eyebrows, his eyes mere slits as he looked at his brother.

Dean reached down and pressed the call button. They waited quietly for the nurse to appear; Dean standing over Sam, gently brushing Sam’s bangs out of his eyes, continually smoothing his callused fingers over Sam’s forehead, over and over.

“Its okay, someone’s coming”, Dean spoke in a low comforting tone.

Sam smiled a small smile, remembering this motion from his childhood, when he was sick, when he would wake up crying in the night, frightened, lost, scared of the dark. He recalled that Dean was always the one to take care of him, comfort him.

“You sleep”, Sammy asked, keeping his eyes closed, relishing the smoothing motion of Dean’s fingers on his aching head.

“Yea I slept in that comfy hospital chair, he chuckled, dreamed about that time you were in that school pageant”. Dean rubbed his thumb slowly on Sam’s temple as he spoke.

“Mmmmm, I re…mem…ber. Sam mumbled.

“Yea, Dad and I thought it was funny, but then, when we saw you on the stage, you did so good, we were both impressed”.

“What”, Sammy opened his eyes slowly, looking intently at his brother. “Dad wasn’t there”.

“Oh, he was so there, he just came after it started and left before you got off stage”.

“You never…never told me…told me that”. Sam tilted his head into Dean’s hand as his eyes held a questioning look at his brother.

“Well, wasn’t it a big deal?” Dean’s face quirked up in a grin.

The nurse entered the room, shot needle dangling from her hand. Dean quickly removed his hand from his brother’s face, fidgeting uncomfortably that he was caught doing this ‘chick flick’ action.

The petite nurse winked at Dean again, his face flushed as he sat quickly back down in the hard plastic chair.

“Here you go, Sam”.

The nurse moved the sleeve of Sam’s hospital gown and gently pushed the needle in his arm. Sam turned his lips up in a grimace as the yellow medication drained into his bloodstream. Slowly, his tensed expression eased up as his arms relaxed, head languishing on the pillow.

“Thank you so much”. Dean winked back at the nurse, she turned and walked with a little twist out of the room.

“She is so flirting with me”, he smiled up at his brother.

“Whatever dude”, Sam quirked out as the meds hit his brain and he felt immediately better.

“So…Dad…was there” he stated in a matter of fact tone toward his brother.

“Yes Sam, Dad was there”. Dean shifted in the chair, faint smile coming to lips.

“Neat-o” Sam drugged voice whispered as his lips turned slowly up to a large smile, eyes closing.

“Neat-o? You are such a girl sometimes”. Dean chuckled, watching as his brother nodded off to sleep again.

Dean’s legs were stiff as he pushed himself up and out of the plastic hospital chair; stretching his arms up over his head, bones and muscles popping with the motion. Sam had only been admitted 11 hours ago, but it seemed like a lifetime to Dean. He hated hospitals and he damn sure hated plastic chairs. He drew his attention to his brother, he was sleeping peacefully since the last medication had been administered, his lips curved up in a grin. “Wish they’d give me some of what you got” Dean snickered to himself as he turned to look out the window. The sun hung lazily over the moss laden tree tops, hazy mist starting to rise up off the grown. Dean sighed, he hated that it got dark so early in the winter.

They had never gotten to the hunt, spending the last 48 hours in the motel, emergency room, and now hospital room, Dean hated the delay, but his brother was definitely more important than any hunt for some ugly ghost in Bossier, Louisiana. Dean grabbed the plastic chair, again, turned it toward the window, and plopped his weary bones back down it, while it wasn’t the most comfortable, it was better than standing. Staring out the window, watching the sunset, his mind tumbled back to another hunt, grinning as he remembered the bickering with his brother, and a very pissed off John Winchester.

The Impala hummed past the dead trees on the old deserted highway, not passing a car in over an hour. It was the middle of January in North Dakota, the air crisp and cold, the wind howling around the car as it made its way down the road. The Winchesters had been driving all day, Dean sitting shotgun, fiddling with the radio, Sam sprawled across the backseat, head leaning against the door, long legs crossed, bare feet tapping on the other door. The car skidded to a stop in the gravel, pulling into a motel parking lot somewhere off Highway 281, just outside of DevilsLake.

“I’m getting us a room, you two stay here”, John ordered in his normal military tone, quickly exiting the car, door slamming as he stepped hastily through the motel managers door.

Dean looked around the front seat to eye his brother, who had his nose stuck in a book, obliviously to the fact the car had even stopped.

“Hey nerd boy, we’re here”, Dean shifted around in the seat to look his 14 year old brother in the face.

“Whatever jerk”, Sam placed his page marker in the book, and swiftly slammed it shut, looking out window, taking in the dimly lit parking lot, the vacancy sign blinking slowly in front of the car. “Well”, he peered up at Dean, “Usual crappy place to stay”.

“Lighten up Sam, it could be worse”. Dean grinned at his brother.

“Nope, don’t think so”. Sam heaved a breath of air, flopped the book to the floorboard, and brought his legs down off the seat.

John walked past the car windows, dangling the motel key from his fingertips for his son’s to see. The boy’s knew the drill, Sam slipping on his sneakers without tying them, both opening the car doors, bolting to the trunk to grab their duffle bags.

“Let’s get some shut eye so we can go to the lake tonight, we need to get ready of this water demon, before more people die”, John’s tone bellowing out direct orders as the key twisted in the motel lock, door flinging open. The room looked like all the other’s they had stayed in, damp, dim, and dirty. Sam and Dean both slammed their duffels on the floor, both pushing and shoving at each other, making a mad dash for the bathroom.

“I call shower”, Dean yelled, as he pushed his brother out of the way with one big shove, ah the benefits of being the older, bigger brother. He laughed as his hand reached the doorknob of the creaky bathroom door.

“But, I wanted a shower”, Sam whined as Dean slammed the door shut in his face.

“Stop whining”. John said harshly as he sat on the end of the bed nearest the door. The boys constant bickering had wore on his last nerve during the drive up to the lake. He removed his shoes, pushing himself wearily up on the mattress and to the pillow.

“But Dad…” Seeing the hard look on his father’s face, Sam shrugged up his shoulders. “Whatever, he always gets the hot water”, Sam voice cracked and whined, as he plopped down on the other bed.

“SAM” his Dad’s voice heavy, as his eyes closed, flinging his arm up to cover his face.

Sam watched as his dad drifted off to sleep, knowing Dean would use up all the hot water and then some.

A large hand shook Dean as he slept on the bed.

“What”, he quipped.

“Get up”, his Dad gave him another shake, “Get your brother up, we gotta go”.

Dean looked at his watch, 11:45 p.m., time to rock and roll. Rolling over on the squeaky mattress, he punched his brother in the shoulder.

“Sam…get up”.

“Ow”, Sam swung his hand in the air at his brother. “Jerk”, he said as he sat up on the bed and reached for his shoes.

“Bitch”, Dean stood up and grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the chair.

The wind was cold, cutting easily through Sam’s jacket as he stood beside his Dad and brother. He shivered as the wind whipped around him. He could see his breath coming out in little clouds as he looked out at the empty lake. The moon was hanging brightly over the water, shimmering in the night air.

“Feels like snow” Sam’s voice quivered out between chattering teeth.

“Well, that’s just special, so glad to have the weather report, Sammy”, Dean swayed into his little brother, causing him to loose his balance and stumble in the darkness.

“Stop it, Dean”, Sam whined.

“Both you, stop it”, John shook his head at his son’s; as he shined his flashlight up in both their faces, then back to the incantation he had scribbled earlier on a piece of a napkin.

“Okay boys, look alive”, John stepped up toward eyes scanning the glimmering lake water, peering out into the darkness. “Once I read this, the spirit of the lake will be summoned, you guys draw it over there”, he nodded at Sam and Dean. “Then I throw the woju powder on it, and it’s gone, easy as pie”.

“MMMM…pie”, Dean’s breath heaved out into the night air, he zipped his leather jacket up tighter on his chest, a grin making it to his lips.

“Boy, do you ever think about anything but eating”, Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and stepped in closer toward him and shoved hardly.

“Sex”, Dean promptly responded as he teetered on his feet from Sam’s shove.

“TMI Dean, TMI”, Sam stammered.

“Boys…SHUT UP! Get serious”. John’s voice boomed into the darkness causing both Sam and Dean to stifle whatever remarks they had setting on the tips of their tongues.

John stepped right up to the waters edge and began reading the words.

“Spirit of the lake, we summon you to come before us….”the wind began to blow, whipping the cold air around them all.

Sam shivered, “Dean, how do we call it over here, did he tell us that?” His head bobbed over toward his brother, face innocent and questioning.

“Are you kid’n me”, Dean looked over at Sam, eyes wide in disbelief.

Sam shrugged up his shoulders, pulling his salt gun closer to his stomach, attempting to hold in the heat of his body.

“He just told us like twenty five times in the car today. Shit Sam, if you hadn’t had your nose stuck in a book the whole drive, you might have heard the conversations”, Dean flatly stated. “When the mist appears, we are to shoot at it with our guns, Salt won’t do any good, but it will make it notice us, and come after us, then Dad can sneak up behind it and put the woju on it ”.

“Oh” was all Sam could blurt out, as he watched the gray mist rising up above the water just in front of his Dad.

“Shoot boys”, John yelled as he dropped the napkin and reached in his pocket to grab the woju powder pouch.

Dean raised his gun to shoot, but the mist swirled angrily and dove in his direction, he stepped hastily out of they way, assuming Sam would do the same. Sam, caught off guard, was knocked back by the swirling angry mist as it came full force at him. The shot booming out above the mist as Sam’s gun fell to the ground with a clank. Dean turned and shot his gun above Sam’s head as he landed on the ground with a thud. John Winchester took hasty steps to reach the spirit, yelling loudly, “Over here bitch” as he opened the pouch and threw the powder into the gray mist. The spirit howled, and then exploded in a burst of color, hurling Dean and John both to the hard ground.

Dean lay stunned for several minutes as his mind cleared from being thrown five feet back as the nasty water demon exited the area. John was trying to recover his own breath, after meeting the ground quickly moments before. As his brain began to function again, his breath evening out, Dean rose to a sitting position, smiling over at his Dad, who grinned back at him.

“Scratch that one off the to do list”, Dean said, voice cocky, smirk turning up on his lips.

“Good job boys…” John’s eyes settled on his youngest, who had been pushed by the spirit at full force and now lay unconscious on the cold, frozen dirt.

“Sammy” Dean stepped swiftly to his brother’s side, kneeling down and looking at his face. Dean reached a hand under his head to lift him up, and then he felt it, lifting his hand from underneath Sam’s head, he saw it, blood, thick and dark, on his hand.

“Dad”, he whispered as he placed a blood stained hand on his brother’s shoulder.

John turned Sam’s head to the side, shinning his flashlight at the blood on the back of his head. A large knot was forming, small cut bleeding, but, John was relieved, it didn’t look as bad as the blood made it, just a goose bump, he thought. He turned Sam’s head slowly back to his previous position.

At the movement, Sam’s eyebrows scrunched up. .

“SAM, OPEN YOUR EYES”, John spouted in a very pissed off voice.

Dean placed his hand gently on his brothers forehead, leaning into his face.

“Sammy, wake up”, he whispered.

Sam didn’t know why but he had to open his eyes. He felt a strong hand on his arm. The strong hand was familiar, but the calming voice in his ear and the comforting hand on his face made him turn his head, leaning toward the presence. He groggily forced his eyelids to open, looking glassy eyed at his brothers face.

“…ean...” His voice sounding weak and distant in his ears.

“It’s okay Sammy, I got cha”. Sam saw his brothers mouth move, but he too sounded like he was very far away. Shaking his head slowly, he attempted to clear the blurriness.

“Cold”, Sam’s voice quivered out in a shallow breath as he looked weak eyed at his Dad and brother.

Dean removed his coat and wrapped it around his brother, pulling him up to a sitting position. John looked at his youngest, anger overcoming his urge to be calm.

“Damn it Sammy, what the hell were you doing?” John bellowed out into the night air, his voice echoing through the trees.

Sam scrunched up his eyebrows, shaky hand coming to his forehead.

“Dad”, Dean’s eyes squinted up at his father, lips pursed tightly.

John realized he was loosing it, face contorted up, deep furrows of anger sitting menacingly on his brow. Damn it, Sam, what is wrong with you, he thought, his mind racing, putting them all three in danger, getting hurt.

John clamored to his feet, hoisting Sammy up as he did so. His motions were abrupt, harsh due to his pissed off state. A low moan escaped from Sam’s lips as he steadied himself against his father.

“Damn it Dad”, Dean’s angry voice slammed out, as he pulled Sammy away from John in one quick swoop.

John relinquished his hold on his youngest, letting him sway on his own. Dean hastily reached for Sammy: gently hoisting him up and over his own shoulder. They stumbled slowly back to the car, listening as their Dad cursed under his breath.

Dean slid Sammy into the back seat of the Impala and scooted in beside him, leaving his father simmering in the front seat. Sammy leaned his head wearily on the back seat as he slowly blinked his eyes, tears welling up just under his lids. Dean pulled his jacket up over Sam’s shivering shoulders, looking intently into his brother’s face.

“I’m sorry, Dean”, Sam moved his mouth into the silent words, glaring uncomfortably back up toward the front seat at his Dad. The Impala came to life and whipped silently back out onto the road.

Dean patted his hand on the top of Sammy’s jean covered thigh, winking at his little brother. Dean moved his hands to his jacket, pulling it closer up under Sam’s chin, smoothing it over his torso.

“It’s okay”, he whispered into his Sam’s ear. “Dad’s an ass”.

The sun was shining silently through the window of the hospital room, a yellow haze floating gently across Sam Winchester’s face, his eyes fluttered open. He brought the palms of his hands up to his eyes, pushing gently into his sockets, trying to ease the pressure. He was relieved, while his head still hurt, it had dulled to a low throb, nothing a few light pain relievers couldn’t remedy, he thought. He shifted his feet under the covers, dropping his hands, his head turning to see his older brother, half sitting, and half lying, in the chair by the window. Sam gazed up, focusing on the nurse standing at his side.

“Hello there, Sam”. She went about her work attaching the blood pressure machine to Sam’s arm, then moving his long brown hair behind his ear, she gently stuck in the thermometer.

Dean shifted in his chair, waking slowly, his body stiff and heavy, his head falling, off his propped up arm, to his chest with a quick motion.

“What…” his voice muffled, he jarred his head back up, arms grabbing quickly for the chair rails, causing it to sway with his hasty motion. He promptly pushed his shoes on the floor with a thud. The nurse looked from Sam to Dean, and then she grinned at Sam; her lips turning up into a little giggle.

“What time is it?” Sam stifled his own chuckle, at his brother’s predicament, and smiled up at the nurse.

“Its 6:00 a.m., breakfast is on the way, and your doctor will be in soon.”

Dean stood wearily from the chair, hands promptly coming to his lower back, bending to stretch the aching muscles. He grimaced, and then grinned over at his little brother.

“How ya doing’ Sam”.

“Okay, I feel better”. Sam nodded to his brother as the nurse removed the BP monitor and wrote down his information.

“What’s your pain level, Sam?” she looked attentively at Sam’s face.

“Four” Sam announced proudly, as he looked from the nurse back to his brother, eyes hopeful that this meant he was getting to get out of the hospital bed soon.

“Well, don’t believe him, ‘Mister, I’m okay, I just got a headache’. Dean’s eyes glinted up at the nurse as he shuffled on his feet, trying to bring feeling back to his legs after the long night in the plastic chair from hell.

Sammy rolled his eyes and pushed himself further up on the mattress. The nurse snickered at them both, and turned to leave.

As the door swung closed in the young nurse’s wake, an orderly entered the room with the tray of food, sat it in front of Sam, who eyed it hungrily. Dean reached down, confiscating the cup of coffee in one big swoop.

“Hey”, Sammy whined, grabbing desperately at his brothers hand, but Dean did not relent, merely moving away from Sam’s clutches, sipping the cup of steaming brew.

“Hello gentleman”, the young doctor’s voice rang loudly in Sam’s ears.

What’s the deal with this guy, Sam mused, can’t he talk softer, he closed his eyes briefly as the ringing waned and then fell off to nothing in his ears. He smiled up at the doctor, his bangs falling over his eyes. The doctor quickly brushed Sam’s bangs aside with his gruff hand, and shined his pin light into Sam’s eyes. Sam willed himself not to flinch from the light, or the doctors motions, he was ready to blow this joint.

“Well, everything looks good. You can be discharged this morning, but you need to be careful”. The doctors finger came up and pointed at Sam, then turned his head toward Dean.

Dean’s interest was peaked, he stepped forward leaning into the doctors words.

“Careful, as in no more head trauma, no more concussions”.

“..Humph...” Sam mumbled under his breath as he looked a the doctors face. “Like that is ever gonna happen”.

“What do you mean, no more, as in forever?” Dean squinted his eyes up at the doctor.

“Your head can only take so much, in Sam’s case, he has had one too many head traumas, and he needs to be extra careful. I’m just saying, he needs to be careful. This PCS was a direct result of previous injuries. He needs to keep this in mind”.

“Thank you for the information”. Sam shoulders slumped, as the doctors words sunk in to his fuzzy mind. The doctor nodded and retreated from the room. Sam closed his weary eyes, a sigh escaping from his lips.

“I’ll go pull the car up front, you get ready”, Dean advised as he quickly exited the room.

Taking large strides, Dean caught up to the doctor in the hallway in front of the nurse’s station.

“Excuse me, Doc, but my brother, what did you mean by no head trauma, what if he gets a head injury?” Dean rushed the words out of his mouth as quickly as he could, not wanting him to step away before he answered. The doctor turned to look Dean in the eyes.

“Just what I said, head trauma can be serious when it is repeated in frequent intervals, concussions, blood clots, vision problems. I’m not saying, this is forever, his head will heal, but for now, he needs to be extra careful”.

Dean’s left eye began to twitch as his brain fought to absorb what the doctor was saying.

He extended his hand and shook the doctor’s hand, smiling vaguely. He stumbled out of the hospital and toward the Impala, mind trying to digest what he had just been told.

Sam took a steadying breath as he swung his legs off the bed to the cool tile, one hand hanging onto the bed. He hated that the doctor had talked about head trauma, and advised him to be more careful, in front of Dean. His brother already babied him to death, now; he would really be in for it. He carefully moved to the closet and extracted is clothes, swaying ever so lightly as he pushed his legs through the pants and pulled them up. His hands were shaking as he pulled his tee shirt over his head, tiny beads of sweat rising on his forehead. He moved slowly to the old plastic chair, the one his brother loved so dearly in the last 24 hours, and sat down in it, obviously his concussion was still reeking havoc on his body. He held his socks and shoes in tightly in his hands. He sat there; attempting to steady is swimming vision, after a few moments, Dean appeared through the doorway.

“You about ready”, Dean looked questionly at his brother, taking notice of his pale, sweaty face. “Here, let me help you with that”. As he stooped to grab the socks and shoes, he got little resistance from Sam whose mouth turned up in a crooked smile at his brother.

“Kay”, Sam said in a low voice that Dean barely heard.

Dean rived up the engine as the Impala se he pulled out onto the highway, it was now well after 10:00 a.m., and boy, he was glad to have that hospital adventure, and that damn plastic chair behind them. He had picked up Sammy’s pain medicine at the pharmacy, gave Sam two pills, and now he was sitting comfortably in the passenger set, head leaning on the glass window.

“So”, Dean glanced over at his brother as the wind whistled by the car. “Let’s just take a break, and…”

“What”, Sam cut him off in mid sentence. “No way, we been on a break, we need to get to that ghost in Bossier, Louisiana”.

“Sammy, I don’t think we need to be in any hurry to get to that hunt, if you seen one ghost, you seen them all”. Dean grinned at his brother.

“Whatever dude, people are dying, we’re 3 days behind, should have been there already!” Sam’s voice rose with each word, eyes staring at his brother in disbelieve.

“Sammy…I just…I don’t want to take a chance on you getting hurt”.

Sam shifted in the seat, eyes growing wide, innocent. Oh, crap, Dean thought, there it is, the look, and then Sam went and said it, the words, the ones that always tugged at his heart strings, “Please…Dean”.

“Damn it Sammy”, Dean shot his brother a look, gripping the stirring wheel tighter, he pressed harder on the gas, as the Impala roared down the highway.

The Impala pulled into the motel, just outside of Bossier, Louisiana, the red vacancy sign blinking, barely visible through the rain. The sky was dark, black, and menacing, as the rain poured down in sheets. “Damn it”, Dean whispered under his breath. They had been driving for the last couple of hours just ahead of the rain; he had hoped to beat it out before having to exit the car. He leered over at Sam, who shrugged up his shoulders, smirking at his brother.

“I’ll get the key”, Sammy offered, his hand reaching over and grabbing the handle, about to open the passenger door. Dean grabbed his arm, yanking him back, away from the door.

“No way…dude, you might slip, fall, hit your head, have to go back to the hospital…”, Dean stammered out in a quick huff, words running together and fading out, he tugged his jacket up over his head and pushed the driver’s door open.

Sam watched as Dean’s boots splashed the rain up around his legs, large drops pummeling him as he ran hastily to the lobby. Sam shifted in the seat, staring straight ahead; watching the water ping on the hood of the Impala. He felt better, his headache diminishing to a small ache behind his eyebrows. He had rested a lot today, sleeping as Dean drove. The doctor’s words vibrating through his head, “Careful, as in no more head trauma, no more concussions”. Sam knew Dean, his ‘Big Brother Mode’ had swung into high gear. He smiled to himself, Dean was wearing on his nerves already, and they had not even gotten out of the car yet, let alone started the hunt for the poltergeist that was killing people in Bossier City.

Dean quickly opened the car door and slipped back into the drivers seat, rain running down his face, hair drenched, clothes ringing wet.

“Shit…” Dean shook his head, the spray of water splattering on the inside of the car and his brother. “I got the key”, he muttered, flinging it in Sam’s lap and starting up the car. “He put us around back, room 23” Dean’s eyes squinted, as he looked out the foggy windows, trying to see the room numbers in the downpour.

“There”, Sam pointed, making an attempt to help his brother locate the room, the car pulling quickly into the open parking spot.

“Wait for me to come around to help you get to the room”, Dean glanced over at his brother, opening the car door and stepping into the rain.

“What….damn Dean, I’m not an invalid”, Sam huffed out, his hand grabbing the handle and pushing the door open, rain drowning him in mere moments, he stood by the car, then stepped toward the door of the room. Dean promptly stepped up beside him and grabbed his elbow. Sam yanked his arm out of his brother’s grasp.

“Dean, stop it, holy crap, I can walk”.

At that exact moment, Dean wanted to knock the daylights out of his brother, he was so hard headed, what did he think the doctor meant when he said, take it easy, be careful, no head trauma. He followed Sam to the doorway, harshly sticking the key in the door and pushing it open. As Sam stepped inside, Dean turned to retrieve their duffle bags from the trunk, rain running down his face, his anger at Sam seething just under the surface.

Sam made his way into the bathroom, slamming the door shut in his wake. He reached for a towel, his vision blurring momentarily as he reached to steady himself on the sink. “Damn it, get it together!” Sam told himself, he knew Dean would be even more protective if he saw this little motion. Sam took a deep breath, his vision clearing as quickly as it blurred. He grabbed a towel, drying off his face and hair.

“Com’on Sam, I look like a wet dog here, I need a towel”, he heard his brother say as he pushed the bathroom door open. Sam grabbed a second towel, and swung up to swat at his brother, Dean reacted quickly, catching the towel with little effort, both grinning, anger washed away by their soggy appearance, they began to peal away their wet clothing.

Dean sat on the bed of the motel room, glancing around to notice the ugly paisley print bedspreads, the same ugly curtains, and the TV that looked to be from early 1960, he realized at that moment, no remote, well doesn’t that just suck. He ran the towel over his damp hair again, threw it to the floor, and lay across the bed, eyes glaring up at the ceiling at the water spots decorating the tiles above his head. He watched Sam out of the corner of his eye; shaking visibly from the cold rain that had soaked through his clothes.

“Sam, take a shower” Dean ordered, “You need to warm up”.

Sam stood in the steamy shower, hot water running down over his hair, warming his body; the rain had chilled him to the bone. He smirked to himself, he could use up all the hot water, and normally he would, but Dean had been nice letting him go first, so he would limit himself and leave some hot water for brother.

Dean’s mind dozed as he listened to the shower run in the next room, the rain pinging on the window, the calming sound causing his eyes to droop, and eventually sleep to overcome him.

Sam was 16 years old when he had his first ‘crush’, as Dean liked to call it. The memory played out in his dream as if it had happened just yesterday. Dean had picked Sam up from school, the same as always, but, this time it was different. Normally, Sam would bound into the car, mouth blabbering on and on about some lesson he had learned, some book he had read, and some teacher he had impressed; today though, Sam was different. He slid quietly into the front seat of the Impala, not saying a word, a far off glint in his eyes.

“Sam?” Dean looked at his brother in a questionable way, as he pulled the car away from the curb. His brother made no motion, no noise, just sat, smirk on his lips, daydreaming out the window.

“SAM”, Dean reached over and punched his kid brother in the arm, Sam’s head whipped around, eyes glaring at his brother.

“What’cha do that for?” Sam dropped his books to his lap and rubbed his arm where Dean had just punched him.

“Did you have a good day”, Dean asked, eyes darting from Sam back to the road. Sam just grunted, leaning his head on his hand as he rested his elbows on his books.

Well, this was different, Dean snickered to himself, he guessed he would just let this go for now, obviously, Sam had something on his mind.

That day was the beginning of a full week of Sam being a space cadet. Dean realized by Wednesday that something was up with his brother, but it wasn’t until Friday that Sam decided to talk about it. They were on the way home from school, Dean listening to Metallic blaring on the radio, Sam staring out the window. Sam abruptly reached up and turned off the radio, shifted in the seat, looking at his older brother.

“Sam…I was listening to that”, Dean reached to turn the radio back on, but saw the look on Sammy’s face, anticipating that Sam was ready to talk, he left the radio off and turned his eyes back to the road.

“Dean, can we go to the football game tonight? Sam said in a hesitant voice.

“Sure, I guess, I don’t have any plans, but what’s with you wanting to go to a football game?”

Sam shrugged up his shoulders, he tilted his head as he looked at his brother’s face.

“Dean, can I ask you a question?” Sam seemed to struggle with the words.

Dean saw the wide eyed look on Sam’s face, deciding this was serious business, he wiped the smirk quickly from his mouth.

“How…how do you…do you talk to a girl? I mean, you…you make it look so easy…” Sam stammer out, face flushing up as he batted his innocent eyes at his brother.

Well, well, well, Dean thought, Sammy’s got a girlfriend. He pulled the car into the parking lot of the crappy motel they were currently calling home, placed it in park, and turned to give his baby brother his full attention. Sam’s face was all scrunched up in anticipation of what Dean was about to tell him.

“Well, Sam, first you have to talk, have you done that yet, or are you just looking at her everyday?”

Sam looked down at his hands, twisting them in his lap. His brother knew him way to well.

“No, No, I haven’t. I don’t, I don’t know what to talk about.” Sam looked back up at his brother, long bangs covering his eyes.

There he goes again, Dean though, smiling at his brother’s shyness. If he only knew that girls would love that about him.

“Sam, just walk up and talk to her, ask her what she is doing, hell, talk about class, if that’s all you can think of, but talk to her. What’s her name anyway?” Dean leaned in to listen to Sam, who was now flushing bright red at his brother.

“Katie, Katie Hollister” and the flood gates broke open, Sam voice rising in excitement as he told Dean all about Katie. “She is the prettiest girl in my class, she’s a cheerleader, she talks to everyone, and she sits next to me. Today, I dropped my pencil and she gave it back to me, she…..”

Dean could not help but smile as he held the laughter at bay, his brother was such a dork. He opened the door of the Impala, listening as Sam rambled on and on about this Katie girl.

It has been a while since Dean had been to a football game, actually, he didn’t think he ever went to a football game when he was in high school. He sat on the hard bleachers, next to his gangly little brother, watching the game, but watching the cheerleaders more closely.

“Okay Sam, which one is her”. Dean looked at his brother, who was fidgeting on the bleacher, eyes watching the cheerleaders more intently then Dean. That’s a first, Dean snickered. “Sam, which one?”

Sam leaned over in Dean’s ear, whispering. “The one on the end, the one with the Go Tigers sign”.

Dean looked down and watched the cute girl, with the long blond hair, the petite body as she danced around to the drumbeat of the band. She was cute, Dean would give Sammy that, but she really did not look like Sam’s type, whatever that type was, this girl was not it.

Sam took a deep breath and stood up. “I’m going to go talk to her”.

“Sam wait, are you sure, I mean…” Dean slapped his mouth closed as his brother looked at him, eyes scrunched up in confusion, then he turned and took the bleacher steps two at a time.

Dean watched as Sam made his way to the side of the football field, head down, hands in his jacket pocket. He wanted to yell at Sam, ‘Stand up straight, smile”, but he was too far away, and he did not want to embarrass his brother.

He watched as Sam leaned over the fence and talked to ‘Katie’, then suddenly, she seemed to laugh, calling the other cheerleaders over. Dean watched as Sam’s face fell, and he looked like he was a seven year old again, caught doing something wrong. The urge to come to Sammy’s rescue was unbearable; Dean shifted on the bleacher, stuffing his clinched fists in his coat pockets, firmly planting his feet on the bench. He knew he could do nothing, only watch, as the bitch shot down his little brother.