~You know me, you know why~

It’s like drowning. Sam takes long deep breaths, his fingers clutching on the thin sheets, beads of perspiration trailing down his jaw, his eyes darting in the half darkness of their motel room. He wills his heart to slow down its frantic beating, making it possible for him to hear. 

Dean is asleep, thankfully. Maybe he passed out…or maybe he really fell asleep for once, the fatigue of their last hunt taking its toll on him. 

Idiot, get a fucking grip! He scolded himself, trying to shake away the images of his nightmare. 

After everything, after having been bloody mold in Lucifer’s hands, after hallucinations…he still had nightmares, normal ones and they still had the power to scare the crap out of him. 

“Sammy…” Dean murmured, his voice muffled against the pillow, “what’s up?”

Sam didn’t answer…because seriously, what could he tell Dean? “Sorry I woke you up by being a wuss?” or “I just had a nightmare and I wish I was 10 again so that I could crawl into your bed and use you as my teddy bear?”

Yeah…no…his soul might be swiss cheese, but he still had some dignity left.

A scoff from Dean, the noise of the bedsprings creaking and then Dean’s voice, now very much awake - so much for being subtle - asked, “Sam?  

Part of him was annoyed, because although he needed his brother like air sometimes — most of the times, actually - he also needed to feel like he wasn’t a complete mess or a little kid…the rest of him was worried, ashamed and grateful.

Damn, his life sucked.

“I know you’re awake, don’t make me get up” Dean said. 

Sam sighed, his throat suddenly dry.  ”It’s nothing, man…” he eventually said.

“Huh sure you are” Dean said. 

A pause, then Dean said in a low voice, “Was it…hell?”

Sam shook his head. No…it hadn’t been hell, nightmares about hell were odd, scary, leaving trails of dread on his skin and in his gut. 

It had been just a nightmare, a run of the mill nightmare, a replaying of their last hunt in glorious technicolor, dolby surround and 3D. 

If he told Dean he’d never  live it down, Dean would probably laugh well until morning. 

“Really Dean…” Sam trailed, he gritted his teeth for a moment, before adding, “and it wasn’t about hell”

Dean snorted at his words. The silence stretched after then, not awkward, but strange…filled with something Sam couldn’t exactly decipher. Lights filtered from the window: passing cars, the green and red of the motel sign, he could hear the water of the faucet dripping, and Dean’s breath. He was still awake, a comforting presence, the rustling of sheets familiar. 

He turned his head, allowing himself to look, really look at his brother, and couldn’t help a little smile when he saw him looking at him, a little frown marring his brow. 

“I swear…” He said.

Dean nodded. “You know?” He said after a second, “I still dream about my first hunt sometimes…” 

Sam quirked his eyebrows, he hadn’t expected that. 

“Really?” He asked. 

“Yeah…it was just a salt and burn, but man, I was so green…” Dean said…and Sam heard what he didn’t add. Dean probably dreamt of all the things that might have gone wrong. Much like he had done that night. 

Dean yawned and Sam couldn’t help doing the same, a weird reaction, but something inside himself had loosened, his blood was now just flowing in his veins, it didn’t feel like acid, and he noticed the soft breeze coming from the A/C. 

“I was thinking…” Dean said and Sam, with his eyes still closed smirked, “Bad idea, Dean…”

He chuckled when Dean said under his breath, “bitch, bitch, bitch…”

Once, he’d have replied with a, “jerk, jerk, jerk…” before, before deals and blood and death, before their world had spun on its axis for so long that they were just now learning how to breathe again in it. 

“We’re pillow talking” Dean said, “might as well do it on one bed…”

Wait…what? Sam thought, while his body was already moving, making space for Dean who was padding toward his bed.

“Fair warning” Dean said, throwing his pillow at him, “no snuggling or I’ll end you”

Sam rolled his eyes, he knew damn well that Dean would end up placing a possessive hand on his chest, his forehead would end up against his shoulder and he’d drool on him. 

Sam was okay with it. 

“So…” Dean said after he made himself comfortable, “clowns or midgets?”

Sam elbowed him but said, “just some random shit dude…”

A quick peck on the lips, familiar and welcome, and then Dean said in a sleepy voice, “happens…now go the fuck to sleep…”

Sam chuckled, in the half darkness of the room, and breathed in his brother’s smell, let the sound of his breath lull him to sleep. 

In the morning his predictions would come true, he’d wake up with Dean draped all over him, his touch keeping the nightmares away, grounding him, carrying him for another day.