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.

Dean grasped his hands under his brothers arms, lugging him up to a standing position. Sam swayed on wobbly legs, hands flailing around clutching feebly at Dean’s jacket.

“Easy Sam, I gotcha, lets get you back to the motel”.

Dean pulled his brothers arm over his own shoulder, Sam’s glazed eyes glancing over to his face. Even in his current confused and tired state, Sam knew a pissed off Dean when he saw one. While his brother’s voice reflected a concerned tone, he could not help but notice the little tick in his left eye, the scowl that was quirking up on his lips. Sam had seen this all his life, his brother in this current state. It only happened when Dean was trying to sort out something, deal with it, when he was really pissed off. Sam thought about saying something, but the undeniable urge to ‘not’ have a conversation with his brother, made him hold his tongue, he was in no state to have a knock down, drag out with Dean. He felt his feet move slowly as he shuffled along on the crisp, wet grass; Dean half dragging him to the Impala.

Dean scooted Sam’s gangly limbs into the passenger seat, hand hastily grabbing the blanket from the back seat, he bunched the covers up around his brothers still frame. Sam’s eye’s were at half mast, head leaning back on the head rest. Dean hunched down, scooping his fingers around Sam’s chin, pulling his face up to look directly in his eyes.

“Sammy, I’m going back after our stuff.” His voice said in a low whisper, concern out weighing the anger that was pulsing through his veins.

Dean was worried about his brother, he needed to get Sammy back to the motel, access his condition. While taking care of Sammy was his number one priority, he was also very pissed at his brother right now, but he forced himself to contain his slowly brewing feelings, he needed to help Sam, and right now, yelling at him, was not going to help him.

The ride back to the motel was quiet, Sammy dozing on the passenger seat, Dean’s eyes darting from the road to his little brother every couple of minutes. The car pulled into the parking lot with a low rumble, Sam heard the engine purring to a sudden stop, bleary eyes lazily opening, and then closing. He heard the loud creak of the car door, and vaguely felt the comfort of his brothers fingers wrap around the back of his neck, thumb rubbing in a small circular motion. He felt his arms moving, his body shuffling, but he didn’t know where he was moving to, just the feeling of strong comfort as someone held him, moved him, his mind cloudy, thoughts jumbled, his brain grew foggy.

“Sammy”, Dean whispered”, he wanted to, but he couldn’t answer.

Sam felt a warm sensation on his face as he let his eyes flutter open momentarily, he knew it was Dean above him, although his vision was blurry, the familiar scent and actions of his brother, a vague memory from his childhood. He felt calloused fingers placing a damp cloth on his forehead, a soft voice murmuring in his ear.

“It’s okay Sammy, just rest”.

The voice floating up to his ears, Sam leaned his face into the hand that rested on his cheek, words comforting him, calming him. He let the pull of blissful sleep drag him under.

Sam slept peacefully as the dim light of the motel light shimmered across his face. Dean sat transfixed on the opposite bed, knees bent, shoes firmly planted on the musty carpet, hands clutching tightly to his thighs, eyes tiredly watching his little brother. He slowly brought his hand up, rubbing it across his eyes, closing them, a ragged breath heaving out of his chest. Pressing his thumb and forefinger on his brows, he sighed, a weary sigh. The reality of the evening rolled over him. He really wanted to rest, lie down, sleep, but the events at the day were too harsh, flashes of memory, anger, and fear clutching at the pit of his stomach.

“Sam, Sam, Sam”, he whispered as he pushed off his boots, pulling his anxious body up across the bed, back leaning up against the headboard. What was he going to do with his brother? Why did Sammy feel that he could not say anything to him about still feeling poorly? His heart just ached with the knowledge that Sam was still suffering from the concussion, the concussion that his big brother absently forgot all about. What was that shit? Sam should NOT have to remind him that he was sick. His mind reeling, he shifted further down on the bed, head thudding against the hard motel pillow. He grimaced, if he could kick his own ass, he would; some big brother he was; his anger at himself was pissing him off more than his anger at Sammy. He turned his tired head to look over at ‘his Sammy’, he was still sleeping, chest rising and falling in a constant rhythm. He wearily curled his arm up across his closing eyes, a low shudder rising from his own chest; he struggled to control the silent tears that rolled down his checks.

Sam nuzzled his head deeper into the pillow, the billowy soft cloud that engulfed his head was comfy, his body warm under the extra blankets that covered him. Slightly moving his head, he pried open sleep filled eyes, blinking; he felt the warmth of the sun shining on his face. He turned his head to the side, looking slowly around the room for his brother. Where was Dean? His unconscious movement caused a muffled cry from his parched lips, as the pain throbbed through his neck muscles, his head thumping at the motion. His throat dry, he grunted to clear the chocking feeling he still felt. He really needed a drink of water. He eyed Dean’s bed, he could see it was a mess; covers shoveled to the side, no Dean in sight. He strained his ears, as his shaky arms pushed his body up against the headboard, he felt exhausted. His ears strained listening to the shower running behind the bathroom door; he could vaguely hear his brother’s voice. Was he singing ‘Born to be Wild’? He could see a bottle of water, but it was too far away, just on the nightstand, but still too far for him to reach from his perch on the bed, dare he attempt to retrieve it? He heaved in a sigh of air as he pushed the covers back from his body, pulling his legs over the edge of the mattress and slowly swinging them to the floor. He was about to move, when the bathroom door suddenly opened, steam wafting out and into the motel room, Dean appearing through the fog, towel wrapped gingerly around his waist.

“Sam….STOP!” Dean took three giant steps to his brother, one hand gently pushing his chest, the other guiding his body back down to meet the pillow.

“I’m ‘kay…Dean”. Sam’s horse voice choked out.

“No, NO your not” Dean pulled the blankets back up to lay on Sam’s chest, hand resting against his brother shoulder as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Can I have some water”, Sam whispered, large innocent eyes looking up at Dean.

Dean grabbed the bottle of water from the far side of the nightstand and placed it in Sam’s shaky fingers, watching as his brother gulped it down greedily.

“Easy, easy Sam, don’t drink so fast, it might make you sick”.

Dean reached up and pulled the bottle from his brothers grip, placing it back to table, he stepped to his duffle bag and retrieved some cloths; shuffling back into the bathroom, he appeared only seconds later, jeans on, back still damp, pulling the white tee over his head. He scrubbed the towel through his hair, throwing it hastily to the bathroom floor as he looked at his pale little brother, his blood red throat bearing the marks of the confrontation with the child ghost at Caney Plantation. He saw Sam’s eyes follow him, a smile pulling slightly at his lips as he gazed at Dean.

Dean flopped down on the opposite bed, concerned eyes staring at Sam. He swiped his hands down his legs, gripping his kneecaps as he struggled to contain the anger that was still simmering just below the surface. He reached his hand over, snapping off the top of the pain reliever bottle, he dropped three pills into his palm, reaching the open palm over to his brother, he grabbed the water bottle with his other hand and thrusted it toward Sam.

“Take these” he demanded, voice hard, yet comforting.

Sam reached his quivering hand over and retrieved the pills from his brothers open palm, he gulped them quickly down through his dry throat; the cool liquid dowsing some of the scratchiness as it went down.

“Sam, I am so…so mad…Upset with you right now”. Dean’s voice quivered, his chin quirking up at a hard angle, eyes darting across at his brother. Sam noticed the sheen in his eyes, causing them to take on a steel tint, anger radiating from his brothers pupils.

“I’m sorry, Dean”. Sam spoke in a low tone, Dean’s ears straining to hear him.

“Sammy, you were not at 100 percent last night, hell, you weren’t even at 85 percent, and still you said nothing. What is wrong with you, you could have been killed. Shit, I could have been killed”. Dean’s words were harsh as he struggled to get his harsh message across to his little brother.

“I did…didn’t want …want you to go a...alone”. Sam squeaked out, his voice scratchy and hoarse sounding.

Dean ran a wearily hand through his hair, shifting on the bed as he leaned down to look attentively in his brother’s face.

“Sammy, you should have said something, hell, I should have said something. I don’t know. What is wrong with me? Some big brother I am.” Dean snorted, the reality of his words hitting his heart and making it ache deep within in chest. “How did I forget you have a concussion, it’s just, you didn’t say anything, I thought…I thought, you were better. Gees…some fricking big brother!”

“No, no De…it wasn’t your fault. I should have, I should have said something.” Sam shuffled under the covers, pulling them up to his chin, long hair falling silently across his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sammy”, tears welled up in his eyes; Dean scrubbed his hand up across his eyebrows, brushing the wetness away.

“You should not be sorry. Sorry for what Dean? It wasn’t your fault, it was mine, and I should have said something.” Sammy honestly stated, his eyes peering up at his older brother. He watched as Dean hid his own eyes conspicuously behind his hand.

“Humph”. Dean’s voice chortled out, huffing as he struggled to regain his composure.

“Dean, I am so sorry”. Sam waited, his eyes watching his brother, Dean’s anger simmering and then diminishing, he rolled his head around on his neck and back to look at him. Sam’s eyes welled up, tears brimming as he waited for his brother to say something.

“It’s okay Sammy, just promise me, promise me, you won’t ever do this again. I have taken care of you my whole life… it’s what I do…this concussion, it is serious shit. You have to give it time, we have to give it time… and…and, I am sorry, really sorry, I pushed you, made you feel that you had to lie to me.”

“No Dean, I didn’t feel like you were pushing, I was pushing. I have hit my head so many other times, I thought it was nothing. I should have realized I was not recovered and never…” Sam’s voice hesitated, pausing, he blinked back the tears he felt filling up his sockets. “I …I would never, ever, put you in a situation where you would be in danger…never”.

The tears in Sam’s eyes overflowed, running slowly down his cheeks.

Dean stood and stepped silently to his brothers bed, sitting on the edge, arm going up to grasp at Sam’s shoulder, gripping it tightly.

“Sam, it’s okay, its okay…let’s just concentrate on getting you well. No hunts, no leaving this room for you”. He snickered as he pulled his brother up into a quick hug, hand grabbing the back of his head, skimming slowly down the back of his Sam’s brown hair, resting on the nap of Sam’s neck, thumb kneading in small circles.

Sam hiccupped as the tears flowed freely from his eyes, his own arm coming up to return the hug his brother was giving. It was not often he got a hug from his big brother, the brother that he looked up to, the brother that raised him, the brother that took care of him, the brother that was more like a Dad than his Dad.

“Sam, shhhh, its okay” Dean shushed his little brother, pulling back from the hug to look at his face. Sam pulled his own hand up, wiping the tears from his eyes as he leaned into his brother’s shoulder.

He didn’t know how long they sat like that, Sam’s head bowed into his shoulder, breath heaving out in little gasps. Eventually, he felt Sam’s body slump, leaning into him, breath coming out evenly, he knew his little brother was asleep. Dean grinned to himself as he lowered his little brother back to the pillow, pulling the blankets up to his chin, hands brushing the hair away from Sam’s face, he smiled.

Sam shifted on the lumpy mattress, crossing his long legs at the ankles, letting a slow breath out of his parted lips, an exasperated sigh. He looked over at Dean; his brother sat looking intently at the television, his fingers flicking the button of the remote over and over, eyes boring blankly into the six channels on the ancient T.V.

The sun was high in the sky, but they were just sitting in their motel room, not researching, not moving, nothing. This resting stuff was getting very old, Sam thought. It had succeeded in being two of the longest weeks of his life, hell Dean’s life. Sam cleared his throat, his voice no longer scratchy from the recent events at the Caney Plantation. They were still at the same motel, never moving after their adventures in the cemetery. Sam shifted on the bed, asking the same question he had been asking for about ten of the twelve days they had been stuck there.

“Dean, can we do something?” Sam’s questioning eyes squinted, glaring over at his older brother.

“Nope”. Dean said sternly, eyes never wondering over to Sam, still staring at the T.V., his lips curling up into a grin. Why did his brother keep asking him that question? They were resting; Sam was recuperating from his concussion, downtime, that’s what this was called, boring? Yes. Necessary? Definitely.

Dean shuffled on his bed, dropping the remote, he grabbed up the bag of cheetos from the bedspread, hand stuffing the tasty morsels into his mouth; scattered around him haphazardly, empty M & M wrappers, coke bottles, Twinkie cellophane and lots of crumbs. He was in the same position he had been in for the last two weeks, except when he had been taking care of Sam, sleeping, or going out for more junk food. He crossed his legs Indian style; his pajama pants wrinkled and mussed, old rumpled tee shirt hanging over his body, he stared down at his bare feet, toes wiggling on the blankets.

“Gee Dean, you are just disgusting. I can’t take this anymore”. Sam stood quickly and moved toward the bathroom, hand resting on the doorknob. “I’m taking a shower and getting outta here”. He stated flatly as he leered at his brother.

“Nope” Dean garbled out, mouth stuffed full of orange cheetos, crumbs shooting out from his lips.

“De…e….an, I said, I am FINE”. Sam stomped his foot on the floor, acting like a seven year old that Dean remembered from their youth. Dean sparked up into a laugh, choking on his mouth full of cheetos. He grabbed the coke from his side, swigging down gulps full, sighing; he finished off the tasty treat, washing the choking feeling from his throat.

Sam plopped down on the motel room chair, shoulders slumping over in a defeated slouch. Dean flipped off the T.V., brushed orange tainted fingers down his white tee shirt, and stood up.

“Well, as I recall; the last time you were fine….you weren’t fine”. Dean stated as he strolled toward the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower, DON’T you leave this room”. He pointed a finger at his brother, rolling his eyes. Sam glanced from Dean to the floor, heaving out a low sigh, staring intently at a dirt spot on the carpet.

When Dean emerged from the bathroom, face flushed from the shower, he saw his little brother, still sitting in the chair; hair hanging down covering his eyes, elbows on his knees, hands clinched up in fists supporting his cheeks, glum expression plastered on his face. He immediately felt sorry for the kid. He had to admit, their little hiatus from hunting was boring, but his brother’s health came first, so, he had sucked it up the last two weeks. To say he was going insane in this dinky motel room was an understatement, but he was not putting his Sammy at risk again. Shrugging his shoulders he decided to give his brother a break.

“Sam, get cleaned up, I’m starving”. Sam’s head raised from his hands, eyes lighting up.

“What, we going somewhere?” He asked brightly.

“Yea, let’s get somethin’ to eat”. Dean reached into his duffle bag rummaging for a clean shirt.

Sam’s immediately stood, both hands grabbing Dean’s arms, turning his body to face him, he grinned widely and gave Dean a tight squeeze.

“Thanks”, he blurted out as he bound past his brother into the bathroom, slamming the door. Dean chuckled to himself, boy, his brother was really bored.

Dean looked across the booth at his brother, his hands clasped on the smudgy brown tabletop. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Sam smiling in a place like this, actually happy just to be in a greasy spoon eating dinner, amazing, he thought. Sam looked good, no dark rings circling his eyes, no red marks lingering on his neck, grin quirked up on his lips. He watched in awe as his little brother ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a coke without even looking at the menu.

“I’ll have the same”, Dean smiled up at the gray haired waitress, as she nodded at him.

“Great, that was easy. Be right up”. She stuffed the pencil back behind her ear, sliding the menus off the table as she walked away.

The boy’s ate in silence, both happy to be out of the crappy motel room, the smell of frying grease, the sound of clanking silverware, the hushed whispers of the patrons involved in private conversations. All this was absorbed in silence, the brothers munching on their own burgers and fries.

Pushing back his empty plate, Sam grabbed his coke and swigged in all down in one big gulp. Sam's bright eyes gazed across the table at his brother. Dean winked at him without hesitation.

“You done there kiddo?” Dean wiped his lips with the paper napkin before rolling it into a ball and tossing it on his plate, eyes looking at his brother.

“Yep, I’m good”. Sam reached down with both hands rubbing his stomach, grin creeping up on his lips.

“So, you want to blow this Popsicle stand?” Dean slid out of the booth, grabbing the ticket as he stood up. Sam slid quickly up and joined his brother as he walked to the cash register. Dean paid, as he watched his brother, dropping a quarter in the gumball machine, hand cupping gingerly under the opening as the gumballs came out in one big whoosh. They exited the diner side by side, Dean snagging some gumballs from his brother’s hand and popping them into his mouth.

The ride back to the motel was quiet as the both enjoyed the silence, the only noise, the wind whipping around the Impala.

“Dean, can we leave now?” Sam turned on the bench seat, looking all innocent eyed at his brother. “I’m tired of being here; we need to be doing something, hunting something, saving lives. Remember, that’s what we do?”

“Yes Sam, I remember. I don’t think we need to rush into anything right now. I want to know you are okay. I need to know you are okay.” Dean squeezed the steering wheel a little tighter as he spoke, concern evident in his tone.

“I am okay, I promise. No headache, no blurry vision, no dizziness. I am GREAT”. Sam slapped one hand on his leg to emphasize his point, smile brimming over on his lips.

Dean looked over at his brother as they pulled into the motel parking lot, turning off the ignition, he turned to Sam.

“Okay, here’s the deal. We check out, we hit the road, but, and I emphasize BUT, I am not, under any circumstances, rushing into a hunt!” Deans voice was firm, no hesitation in what he said, Sam knew he meant it.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Sam shook his head, pushing the passenger door open, exiting quickly. He stepped hastily toward the motel room door, away from Dean. He didn’t want to look any longer at his older brother’s stern expression. God, he thought, get over it.

The air blew through Sam Winchester’s hair as the Impala breezed down the highway, destination no where. He had at least convinced his older brother that they should leave Bossier, Louisiana and the extended downtime Dean and forced on them. Sam’s concussion was no longer an issue, but convincing his older brother of that, well, that was another story. Dean was in full swing ‘super big brother mode’, and Sam knew he was just going to have to wait it out, eventually, Dean would fall back into ‘normal big brother mode’, which was just as bad sometimes, but was easier for Sam to take.

Dean reached down and flipped on the radio, turning the volume up louder, ACDC blaring into the car, speakers thumping from the drum beat. He caught a glimpse of his brother, wind whipping through his hair; face half hanging out the passenger window. He snickered, it reminded him of a young Sammy, an innocent Sammy, one that used to love to ride in the car with his Dad, window rolled down, eyes wide, taking in everything as it went by in a fast blur. He smiled, he remembered how his Dad would have to reach over and grab Sam’s tee shirt, yanking him back into the seat, yelling at him, “The car is moving Sammy, stop trying to fall out the window”.

The sudden ringing of Dean’s cell phone brought him out of his memory. He reached into his front pocket and whipped open the phone, glancing at the caller ID He hesitated, not wanting to take the call, assuming it was a hunt, and he was not sure he wanted them to do a hunt just now. Yes, it had been three weeks since their escapades with the ‘little tyke from hell’ at Caney Plantation, but, he was not sure he was ready to put Sam back out there just yet. The doctor’s words kept vibrating in his brain, just when he thought he was going to relent, the words would come back to haunt him, “ 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”. He knew he could not hold out forever, but hell, he had given it his best shot. His eyes met his brother’s pleading face; guess it couldn’t hurt to answer it. He pulled the phone to his ear, “Ellen”, he mouthed at Sam.

“You … got… Dean here”. His voice hesitating as he spoke, one voice telling him to take the hunt, the other telling him not to.

Sam squirmed away from the passenger window, turning toward his brother, he curled his knees up on the seat, laying his head on them, looking at Dean, small smile turning up on his lips. Come on, come on, Dean, let’s get back to it; he thought to himself as he stared, wide eyed at his brother.

“Yea, well, I’m not sure we are hunting right now”. Sam grimaced as he heard half the conversation, the negative words coming from his brothers lips.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter with his left hand, mulling over the information that Ellen was so freely giving him. Dean held in his breath, slowly blowing a harsh stream of air loudly from his mouth.

“Okay, okay, we’ll check it out. I’ll call you later”. He slapped the cell phone shut, tossing it to the back seat; he brought his now free hand up to 3:00 on the steering wheel. The car hummed along, the radio blaring, Sam still looking at Dean, waiting, hoping, surely Dean was about to say something. After several minutes, Sam could take it no more.

“What Did Ellen Want!!” his voice boomed out over the loud radio.

Dean’s hand flipped off the radio, eyes darting over to his brother.

“It’s a hunt” he stated flatly.

“Oh…Thank God”. Sammy’s excited voice stammered out, eager eyes looking at his brother.

“Humph”, Dean huffed out, eyes staring straight ahead to the highway. He didn’t want to let on to Sam how badly he wanted to do this hunt. He was so tired of doing nothing. He knew that Sam had to come first, and if Sam would not put himself first, well then, Dean would; and he had, for three of the longest weeks of his life. No headaches, no blurred vision, and no dizzy spells, all the remnants of the concussion and the last hunt were gone, Sammy looked good. Dean regurgitated all the facts in his mind, yes, he felt confident they were ready for a new hunt, but he would keep an eye on his brother, that was for sure.

“Tell me, tell me” Sammy quipped, anxious voice raising an octave higher, the anticipation overcoming him.

“We’re headed to Beer Creek Bridge, just outside of Houston, Texas. Ellen says the bridge is haunted by a demonic mist that hovers and then pushes people off the bridge. Several innocents have died, stopping on the bridge; the mist appears, pushes them over. Observers have seen it, but no one can explain it”.

“Shit”, Sam’s voice was almost an excited giggle, “Let’s get on it”.

Dean shook his head at his brother, his own laugh brewing up on his face, the thought of a hunt making them both giddy. Dean pushed harder on the accelerator, the car speeding up as he barreled down the road.

The Impala pulled into the parking lot of the Bear Creek Motel just off Highway 6, not four miles from the bridge. They had driven down Patterson Road, crossing over the bridge to get to their final destination, the motel. Dean thought the bridge had looked normal, nothing standing out, except the yellow police tape, lining the side of the rickety railing. He was really tired from driving and hoped that Sam could do some research, get a lead on what was going on, before they had to go back out there and check it out.

Scrunching up his blood shot eyes, Sam stared at the laptop screen, he had been searching for hours now, Dean had fallen asleep not long after they checked in. Sam had slept a lot in the car, so he had left Dean alone, he knew his brother had been taking extra care with him, and he intended to return the favor, every chance he got. Just when he thought he had come up empty handed, he found an interesting fact on a remote web site. The bridge was used by civil war soldiers who fought a battle at Bear Creek Park. Interesting, the bridge was smack dab in the middle of the battle that was fought in this area. Sam continued to read, a soldierstill walks the side of Patterson Road at night, looking for some thing. It is said to be the enemy. Maybe, Sam thought, one of the spirits had gotten carried away looking for the enemy, killing who it could find, or maybe he is looking for something else, he mused. Sam snapped the laptop closed, slipping down on the mattress, mind letting the information roll around in his tired brain, the lull of sleep pulling him under.

The sun was shining brightly across the stained carpet of the dank smelling motel room, beams of light falling straight into Dean Winchesters closed eyelids. He blinked, and then squinted, as he raised his hand to shadow his face, half mast lids glaring at the bright light. He slowly began the assent to wakefulness wishing like crazy he had closed the blinds when they checked in the motel room the night before. He rose with hast, took four quick steps to the mini-blind, twisted it closed; damn sunshine, he grumbled under his breath. He stumbled, hazy, not quit awake yet, grabbing some cloths from his duffle, he headed for the shower. His hand on the bathroom doorknob, he seized a glance at his brother, head stuffed as far as possible into the flat motel pillow, bangs hanging across his face, mouth parted as a small snore escaped every couple of seconds. He noticed the laptop closed and lying crookedly right next to his brothers limp hand; obviously, he had closed it in a sleepy stupor, right before shutting his eyes. He would let him sleep some more; he quietly closed the bathroom door, his mind wondering if Sammy had found any details on this bridge, on the deaths that seem to be attached to it.

Sam woke to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, keeping his eyes closed, he pushed further down into the lumpy mattress, pulling the flat pillow further up into his face. He was comfortable, mind dozing fitfully, the humming of the water hitting the tub lulling him back to sleep.

Sam heard the keycard, and felt the breeze of the motel room door being opened. He roused slowly from his sleep, shifting on the bed, pushing the warmth of the blankets from his legs. The crumpling sound of paper, the jingling of car keys, Dean’s steady breath humming constant in the background; he blinked his eyes, nose wafting in the aroma of coffee, vanilla bean coffee, he let the aroma pull him from his slumber, deciding to join the ranks of the living.

“Bout time you woke up”, Dean mused as he sat the McDonalds’ bag next to his brothers face on the bed, hand just above his face, taunting him evilly with a cup of his favorite coffee.

Sam reached up, snagging the coffee cup from his brother’s fingers, body pushing to a sitting position on the bed. He reached into the bag, pulling out the sausage and biscuit.

“Thanks Dean” he nodded at his brother as he opened his breakfast, hot coffee making its way to his muddled brain.

Dean sat down on the edge of Sam’s bed, stuffing his own breakfast sandwich in his mouth, he watched his brother, head nodding down toward the laptop.

“Find anything?” Dean brought the coffee cup up to his lips, gulping down the hot black coffee eyeing his brother, waiting on his findings.

“Yea, I did. Seems like this bridge was the sight of one of the battles of the civil war, and their have been rumors for hundreds of years about a soldier roaming the area, looking for something”. Sam’s eyes sparked up with light as he announced his findings to his brother

“Interesting, so what you think he’s looking for? You think he is pushing innocents to their deaths?” Dean wiped his mouth with a napkin, balling up his paper from his breakfast and placing it back into the empty bag next to Sam.

“Think so, but I don’t know what he’s looking for”. Sam pulled himself up to his feet and fumbled into his duffle, grabbing some clothes. “I’m taking a shower; we need to go check out the bridge”.

Parking the Impala below the bridge, Sam and Dean exited the car and headed to the trunk, retrieving the EMF, and a salt gun, just in case.

“Hide it under your jacket Sammy, we don’t want any curious onlookers running around saying we were gun toting crazies” Dean huffed out as he handed his little brother the salt gun.

“Ya think?” Sam said as he slid the gun in the back of his jeans waistband rolling his eyes at his brother.

Dean shrugged, slamming the trunk closed, hands adjusting the EMF meter as he walked toward to bridge with Sam at his side. As they got to the edge of the bridge, anxiety suddenly clutched at Dean’s chest. He stepped purposely in front Sammy, arm grabbing and forcefully pushing Sam behind him, causing him to stumble as he was bodily moved by his older brother.

“Get behind me Sammy” Dean stated firmly.

“Dean…what the hell”. Sam straightened himself and pulled away from his brother’s hand.

“I said, Get behind ME!” Dean blurted out harshly, eyes glaring daggers at his brother.

“But…Dean” Sam stammered out, eyes wide with surprise at his brother’s actions.

“No ‘But Dean’s’, Get BEHIND ME NOW!!”. Dean’s voice was harsh, forceful, and authoritative. He was giving Sam an order.

What the…, Sam’s mind whirled, Dean sounded like John Winchester. He realized at that moment, Dean had stepped totally back into ‘super big brother mode’.

Sam stopped, standing still at the edge of the bridge, eyes glaring at his older brothers back. Dean continued to walk, eyes watching the EMF recorder, oblivious to the fact that his brother was not behind him. Dean had gotten to the middle of the bridge when the EMF began to light up, he turned around hastily to show Sam. It was then that he realized that Sam was not behind him. Sam stood at the far end of the bridge, right where Dean had shoved him moments before. Sam's stunned body not moving, eyes gaping widely at his brother in an exasperated glare.

“Sam….GET OVER HERE!” Dean stammered out quickly, head turning to scan the area around the bridge, around his brother. There was no one there; the bridge was empty except for Sam. Seeing the seriousness in his Dean’s face spurred Sammy back to action, he made haste with his lanky legs, reaching his brother in moments, looking down at the EMF.

“Careful, Sammy, be on the lookout. Something is here; we just don’t see it yet.” Dean turned slowly on the soles of his shoes, stuffing the EMF back in his pocket, he brought a protective arm up in front of his brother, who moved silently with Dean, body turning in perfect time with him. Dean pulled the flash with holy water out of his jacket, Sam slowly pulled the salt gun from his back; both moving slowly in a synchronized motion.

The chill came up behind them, a cold feeling creeping across the back of Sam’s neck causing tingles to run down his spine. Dean glanced at his brother.

“You feel that?” The back of Dean’s hand touched Sam’s jacket on the sleeve.

“Uh Huh”. Sam whispered.

Suddenly, a fine white mist appeared behind Sam, catching Dean’s attention immediately, he turned, grabbed Sam by the sleeve, and pulled him away from the mist as it weaved and rose up. Dean hastily stepped in front of Sam, placing himself between the aberration and his brother.

“Dean”, Sam’s voice came out in an angry whisper as he stomped his foot. God, the thought, hadn’t his brother outgrown the ‘throw a fit’ stage long ago. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam, stepping backwards, his body bumped up against Sam’s.

The ghost looked to be that of a young man in his twenties, uniform torn, blood pooling on his chest. He stood there weaving in the air, eyes staring blankly straight at Sam.

“Hey, what can I do for you” Dean huffed out in a questioning tone, snapping his fingers, drawing the ghouls attention from his brother; he nodded his head at the ghostly figure.

“I want you to come with me”, the ghost spoke as he raised a transparent hand up and motioned to Sam”.

“What the hell Sam, can’t we go anywhere without out you having supernatural freaks coming after you”. He nudged his brother with the back of his elbow. Sam snickered, shuffling in closer behind Dean, their breath coming out in unison as they stared down the poltergeist in front of them.

“You can’t have him”. Dean twisted the top of the holy water bottle open, eyes watching the wavering ghost.

“I’m all alone here; I need him to join me”. A hollow voice bellowed out as the mist rose and swirled around the brothers.

“Don’t think so”, Dean eyes squinted as he cocked his head at an angle and gave the ghost a stone cold glare.

“But, I’m all alone. They left me here”. The ghost stammered out, head slumping down, looking at the bridge and off to the water below. “They all marched off that way, and left me here on the bridge, to die, all alone”.

“I’m sorry”, Sam mumbled, Dean shifted, turning wide eyes to his brother.

“Well, that’s just too bad, you can’t have my brother”, Dean stated firmly. The mist grew angry and began to swirl madly around them, cold air stunning them both as the mist closed in around them. Dean slung the holy water at the figure yelling at his brother as he did so.

“Shoot it Sammy”, Dean yelled.

Sam pointed the salt gun at the ghost, pulling the trigger as he murmured ‘sorry’ under his breath. The ghost screamed into the air as Dean shoved his brother with both hands to exit off the bridge.

“Run Sammy” he blurted out, one hand grabbing the salt gun from his brother, the other hand flat on Sam’s back, pushing him.

When the reached the edge, they stepped quickly off the bridge, heads turning to see where the ghost was at, the mist stopped at the bridge rail, empty eyes gazing at the brothers.

Chests heaving, Sam and Dean looked at each other, and back at the poltergeist, swaying as it watched them from the edge of the old wooden bridge.

“Interesting, guess it can’t come out here” Dean mused, grin curling up on his lips.

“Guess not” Sam huffed out as he pulled his body away from his brother’s hand still resting on his back.

“I swear Sammy, I can’t take you anywhere”, Dean gave out a little chuckle as he nudged his brother again with his hand.

“Stop it Dean” Sam bellowed out angrily, turning to look Dean in the eye. “What is your deal anyway, you act like I can’t do anything”.

Sam felt like he was being treated like a small child and it was starting to really piss him off. He glanced at the sad ghost, still standing on the edge of the bridge, weaving in a misty glow; and then back to his brother. He was lucky to have someone care so much about him, this poor ghost had obviously had no one, but still, he was 23 years old, Dean needed to give it a rest.

Dean shrugged up his shoulders at him. “Let’s get Dad’s journal out of the car, we need to read a banishing spell and get rid of this lonely soldier”.

They walked silently to the car, Dean grabbing the journal from the trunk, shuffling through the pages until the right banishing spell appeared on one of the rumpled pages.

“Here Sam, here, use this one”. Dean handed the journal to his brother as he retrieved the candles, amulet and banishing oil slamming the trunk closed. They both looked back at the bridge, where the misty ghost now seemed to be pacing back and forth as if waiting for someone to come. Dean shook his head, it really was kind of sad, poor guy, dying along on the bridge so many years ago. He motioned for his Sam with a nod and began walking back to the bridge.

“Let’s get this done”. He stepped in front of Sam and began walking back to the bridge. Sam grimaced as he pushed to get past his older brother.

“Dean, we need to talk about this. I know you’re my big brother. I get that you care about me, but….you’re driving me nuts”. Sam grabbed his brother by the wrist, fingers curling around his tightly, stopping Dean in his tracks. “Talk to me man”.

Dean shuffled on his feet, darting his eyes up at Sam, and then quickly away, staring over Sam’s shoulder at the bridge and the white misty floating around.

“Sam, I just worry about you, that’s all. You’re all I’ve got in the world. Without you, I’d…I’d…” Dean’s voice hitched. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. You hit your head; I was supposed to be watching out for you. The doctor said…..I well, I forgot all about the concussion at Caney Plantation…” His voice quivered. “What kind of big brother is that?” Dean stammered out, his words in one breath, wrist pulling out of Sam’s grasps. Dean rubbed his fingers slowly across his forehead; eyes staring at the ground.

“I’m fine now, no more concussion. I’ll be careful, I promise”. Sam said in a gentle tone. “Dean, you can’t watch me all the time.” Sam's hazel eyes shimmered as the sun reflected lightly on his face.

“I can try….” Dean raised his eyes, looking Sammy in the eyes.

“Look Sammy; I have always been your big brother. I have always taken care of you. Hell, you are more like my own son than my brother. I will not stand by and watch anything happen to you…”A sigh escaped Dean’s lips.

Sam felt the tears well up in his eyes, he couldn’t believe his brother, his Dean, was instigating a ‘chick flick’ moment. Dean never expressed his vulnerability, and he was doing it right here in broad daylight.

Dean watched the ghost out of the corner of his eye as he looked at his little brother. If a chick flick moment was what was in order for him to keep his Sammy safe, then that is what Dean would do, right here in front of god and everyone. His desire to protect Sam at all costs far outweighed his desire not to have a ‘chick flick’ moment.

Sam’s wide eyes gazed back at him, feelings welling up as tears, ready to run down his checks. Sam could feel his brother struggling with his own emotions, searching for just the right words to convey his feelings.

“You are all I have left.” Dean stated calmly. “I need to take care of you. I have always done it. You followed me around all my life; you have always been my reason for being, my brother, my shadow. There is nothing you or I can do about it, it is who you are, who I am, what we do”.

“But Dean, You don’t have to…” Sam whispered.

“Sorry, Sammy, but you don’t get to tell me to stop being me, you don’t get to be mad at me when I do it, and you just have to live with it. That’s all, it’s that simple. You are my brother, and I will always, always look out for you.”

Sam brushed his sleeve up to his eyes and wiped quickly to remove the tears. He nodded his head slowly at his brother. His feelings at that moment threatened to overcome him, right out here in the open. He curled his lips up at his brother as he saw Dean blink his eyes quickly, darting his eyes around looking to see who was watching.

“Lets get this done” Dean grinned up at his brother as he turned and continued to walk toward the bridge, Sam’s long legs overtaking him in mere moments and stepping up next to him.

“Whoa there little brother”, Dean raised his open hand; palm out, back of his hand on Sam’s chest. He held Sammy solidly at his side. “Get behind me”. Dean whispered at Sam, “Remember…you are always my shadow”.

Sam’s face shifted, as he stopped, eyes beaming over at his older brother. The look he gave Dean was far from the look he had given him only moments before; it was a smile, beaming brightly at Dean. Sam hesitated, letting Dean gently push in front of him. Dean’s head nodded slightly in agreement; he stepped to the front of his little brother, eyes leering at the ghostly figure on the bridge.