Archive of Our Own ^beta

The bunker was quiet, too quiet. Save for the faint hum of the lights in the hallway. Dean sat the table in the war room, nursing a half-empty glass of whiskey. He glanced at his watch; it was late, even for him. He considered heading to bed but thought better of it. Sam hadn’t turned in either, though his brother’s room had been suspiciously silent all night. Dean figured Sam was probably researching something again. Inside Sam’s room, though, was peace was an illusion.

Sam was back in the Cage. He could feel it. He looked around and saw nothing but darkness stretching into infinity. Then he heard it, the voice. “Sam.” He spun around, his heart hammering in his chest. There he was, Lucifer, leaning casually against nothing, grinning with malice. “Miss me?” Sam tried to back away but his feet felt like lead, rooted to the spot. The memories came flooding back in: the endless torture, the whispers that drove him mad, the feeling of being utterly powerless.

“You look tired Sam. You’ve been running for so long. Don’t you think it’s time to stop? Time to come back where you belong?”

“No.” Sam managed to choke out, though his voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re not real. You’re not ---” Lucifer’s face twisted with anger flashing in his eyes. In a sudden move, he gripped Sam’s throat. “Oh but I’ll always be here. You can’t outrun me Sammy!”

“Sam!”

Dean’s voice broke through the haze as Sam jolted awake, sweat-soaked and gasping for air. He bolted upright, scanning the room for Lucifer as if the archangel would materialize any second. Dean sat at the edge of the bed, his hands gripping Sam’s shoulders to steady him. “Hey, hey! It’s me, man. You’re okay, it’s just a dream. Breathe.” Sam’s chest heaved as he struggled to calm down, his hands shaking. “I was back there, in the Cage. He wouldn’t stop ---” Dean frowned, his jaw tightening. He didn’t need Sam to finish to finish the sentence, he knew enough. “It wasn’t real. Lucifer’s gone, you’re here, you’re safe.” He said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Sam nodded, though his wide eyes betrayed his doubt. He ran a hand through his damp hair. “It felt so real, like he was right there…” He muttered. Dean interrupted him. “But he wasn’t. He’s not coming back. You hear me? You’re stronger than him, Sammy. You’ve beaten him before and you will do it again if needed. But right now, you need to let it go.”

Sam looked at his older brother, the unwavering support in Dean’s eyes grounding him in a way nothing else could. He nodded again, this time more resolutely. Dean clapped him on the back. “Alright, come on. You’re not sleeping alone tonight.” Sam blinked. “What?” Dean stood up, grabbing the spare blanket from the chair. “I’m crashing on the floor. Don’t argue. No way I’m leaving you to deal with this crap on your own.” Despite himself, Sam managed to crack a small smile. “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean smirked, already settling in. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t snore or I’m outta here.” Sam leaned back against the headboard, the nightmare still lingering at the edges of his mind but no longer as consuming. Dean was right, Lucifer was gone and he wasn’t alone. And as long as they had each other, they could face anything.

Dean dragged a leather chair from the corner of the room and sat, it squeaked. He rested his elbows on his knees, eyes locked on Sam’s face who had already gone back to sleep. “Should’ve known something was bothering you, you’ve been walking around all day long like another apocalypse is about to drop again.” Sam stirred but didn’t wake up. Dean watched the subtle wince on his brother’s face fade away. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He leaned back, letting his head thump against the wall. Truth was, he wasn’t gonna sleep. Not since Rowena died. Not since Chuck had turned out to be the ultimate puppeteer in messed-up lives. Not since Jack. Today was one of those days.

“I remember when you were little after dad left us for a hunt, you’d crawl into my bed. Said you didn’t like the dark.” Dean said softly, his lips twisting into a smile. “And I always said I didn’t mind but I did Sammy. I minded everything, from the silence to the waiting. I swore I would never let anything happen to you but too many things happened over the last years due to Chuck. Now it’s just us.” It was a brother’s oath carved into him since he was 4 years old.

Hours passed and the older Winchester stayed, didn’t sleep. He stayed until the first hints of morning crept into the bunker. He kept watch like many times before.

Sam eventually stirred awake, blinking at the ceiling. The nightmare had faded, leaving behind quiet and peace. Sam’s eyes looked around the room where he saw Dean, asleep in the chair… or not quite, he was slouched down, arms crossed, boots still on, eyes closed but twitching at the slightest noise. Always half-alert. The younger Winchester sat up slowly, careful not to startle his brother. He rubbed his sleepy eyes before clearing his throat. “You spent the night here after all? You didn’t have to.” Dean’s eyes flickered open and he shrugged. “Yeah I did. I napped.” He lied as usual. “Besides these chairs are way more comfortable than some of the motel crap we used to sleep in.”

Sam huffed laughing. “Still… Thanks.” Dean stood up. “Don’t mention it, I mean it.” There was comfort in knowing his brother was still watching over him no matter how old he was. “I dreamt about Jess...” Dean froze, halfway to the door. He watched his brother. “She stood there in our old apartment before it all went down.” Dean reached forward to squeeze Sam’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Sammy.” He clapped his hands. “Alright breakfast? I’m making bacon whether you like it or not.” As Dean walked down the hall, Sam sat on his bed a moment longer, reflecting on Dean’s words. He stayed. He always stayed.

The smell of bacon hit Sam before he even stepped into the kitchen. Sam shuffled in barefoot, hair a mess. A Zeppelin was slowly playing in the background. “Morning Rapunzel” Dean grinned without turned around from the stove. Sam rubbed his face, yawing. He sat at the table watching Dean flip the bacon with a satisfying sizzle. He grabbed a mug, poured himself coffee from the pot already brewed. “Did you make this strong on purpose?” He said wincing making Dean grin. “Puts hair on your chest.” “Pretty sure I’ve got enough.” “That’s debatable.” Sam scoffed laughing.

Dean placed the food on the table; scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. Sam took a few bites then said, “I know you didn’t sleep last night.” Dean didn’t bother looking up. “And?” “You don’t have to do that anymore, watch over me.” Dean sighed. “You don’t get it, it’s a force of habit. I’ve been watching over you since I was four years old. That doesn’t turn off just because we’ve got four walls and decent plumbing now.” Sam looked softly at him. “I know and I’m grateful for every moment you’ve watched over me. Just don’t burn yourself out on me.” Dean then stole a piece of bacon from Sam’s plate grinning. “You’re unbelievable.” “Damn right I am.”

Later that night, Sam sat in the library a book open in front of him yet forgotten as the younger Winchester was lost in thoughts. Across from him, Dean sipped a glass of whiskey, his feet propped on a chair. Sam finally broke the silence. “You ever think what we’d be if none of this all had happened?” “All the damn time. I try not to dwell on it but sometimes yeah I wonder.” Sam looked at him. “What do you think you’d be?” “A mechanic, fixing up old cars in some nowhere town. Drinking beers in a garage with a radio blasting classic rock. What about you?” Sam pondered. “Maybe a lawyer or a professor.” They both went quiet for a few seconds. “Do you regret our style of life?” Dean drank his whiskey. “Nah, I mean parts of it? Sure. All the pain, loss, stuff we’ve gone through. Your demon blood trip. Hell. Purgatory. You being soulless. The Mark of Cain. Michael. All the crazy stuff. But I don’t regret us. I’m proud of us, Sammy. Proud of everything we’ve accomplished.” They drank together.

Then Dean stood up, draining the last of his drink. “I’m turning in.” Sam looked up. “You gonna sleep in the chair again?” He teased. Dean chuckled. “Nah, you’re good now. But don’t tempt me.” As Dean turned to go, Sam called after him. “Hey, Dean?” Dean looked back, eyebrows raised. “I’m glad you stayed last night.” Dean’s eyes softened. “Always little brother, always.” And then he disappeared towards his room down the hall, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts.