grianchloch | The Secret to a Good Night's Sleep (1/?)

Title: The Secret to a Good Night's Sleep (1/?)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: This chapter - Gen. Overall will rise to NC-17
Beta: The lovely Ms

cocoajava
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.
Warnings: This chapter - none. Overall will rise to NC-17 Wincest.
Notes: This takes the Winchesters back to the beginning of season one. It's the first in a series of fics that will work through all three seasons, exploring the bond between the brothers and the strength they draw from each other. Some will be codas to episodes and some will be set in between episodes.

Summary: In the first weeks after Jessica's death, Sam is plagued with nightmares and having trouble sleeping until Dean finds a way to help him.

It became a routine Dean hated. When Sam slept, the same nightmare plagued him night after night after night, left the same haunted look in his eyes when he woke up, violently ripped from his disturbed sleep and dumped back into a stark reality without Jessica. Dean wished there was some way to stop it, to give Sam the peace he so badly needed, a respite from reliving the pain of her watching her die every time he fell asleep. But this wasn't something he could fight or kill to save Sam from. Sam's own solution was to stay awake for as long as he could, as often as he could, but that left him cranky and irritable. In between naps in the Impala, Sam was grouchy at best, and refused to talk to Dean about it, which was a first.

In an effort to get him to sleep, Dean tried getting Sam so wasted that he wouldn't be able to stay awake, hoping that it would dull the nightmares enough for him to sleep a night through, but that meant Dean getting wasted too and if his own hangover and the even darker smudges beneath Sam's eyes the next morning had been anything to go by, he'd only added to Sam's problems, not helped any.

He tried again to get Sam to talk to him. Sam had always been the one into sharing and all that shit, so Dean reasoned it was worth a shot. Only thing was, he had no idea how to start.

"So, Sammy, is there anything you want to talk about?"

"No. And it's Sam, now, Dean. Has been for a long time."

Dean forged on regardless.

"I, uh, know you must be missing Jessica ..."

"You think? I'm gonna grab a shower."

"Okay then."

And Dean was left sitting alone on the bed, wishing that talking about this stuff came as easily to him as stripping down a .45 did. There was a distance between them that hadn't been there before Sam left for Stanford and it made Dean sad that he didn't know his brother as well as he once had. At one time, he would have known exactly how to deal with whatever was going on in Sam's head, even if he didn't understand it. Now there was this invisible barrier between them, and damned if he knew how to tear it down.

The second time, he tried the more direct approach.

"This can't go on, man, you're not sleeping and you're strung out."

"I'm fine."

"You're not!"

"Quit worrying about me, Dean, I'm okay! I can deal with this myself."

"I can't quit worrying about you, I'm your brother and it comes with the territory, Sammy."

"It's Sam," Sam glared, "And I need a shower."

Sam was in the bathroom before Dean could stop him, the lock clicking shut. Dean rolled his eyes, exasperated and frustrated.

"You can't keep running off to hide, Sammy!" Dean yelled and he scowled at the sound of the shower being switched on. Next motel, he swore he was going to take the lock off the bathroom door so Sam couldn't use it as a refuge. He muttered something about webbed feet, and threw himself down on the bed to wait for Sam to emerge. But he must have fallen asleep before Sam came out because when he woke up, it was the middle of the night, and Sam was curled up on the other bed with his back to Dean, whimpering in his sleep.

Dean's next plan was to get Sam so hyped up on caffeine that the eventual crash would definitely knock him out and keep him asleep for a decent length of time, hopefully without nightmares. It gave him a car full of babbling Sam, which was kind of nice for a while until the babbling took on a manic edge and Sam got the shakes but when Sam fell asleep later, Dean smugly fell asleep in his own bed, glad that Sam would get a good night's rest.

He wasn't so smug a few hours later when Sam's terrified screaming had him instantly wide awake, knife in his hand ready to protect his brother with his life. It wasn't the usual shouting or yelling, it was honest to God, blood curdling screaming that had the hair prickling on the back of Dean's neck and the occupant of the next room banging on the wall. Once Sam was lucid again, and Dean had put the knife down, Sam shrugged off Dean's soothing touches to his arm and walked to the table in the corner of the room, flipping open the laptop and mumbling to Dean to get some sleep, he was fine.

As if he could sleep after that, Dean thought. There and then, as he began another silent vigil over his brother as Sam worked, Dean resolved to ration the kid's coffee and to make sure that if he bought it, it was decaf. Sam would never notice the difference under all that hot milk and sugar.

Dean didn’t sleep much anymore either, not with Sam the way he was, so a week after the coffee incident, Dean was already half awake when he heard Sam whimper softly in a rare moment of sleep. Dean sighed, turning over to look at his little brother lying across the empty void between the two beds.

Sam’s hands began to twitch and his body shuddered, the movements quickly becoming erratic. His head thrashed from side to side, little choking noises fast becoming full blown sobs as he became trapped deep in the nightmare.

It was the broken despair Dean heard that drove him to do the only other thing he could think of to help Sam, something he'd not tried before because Sam would never let him get close when he was awake. He left his own bed, crossed the strip of worn and stained carpet that separated them, and slid under the thin sheet on Sam’s bed, slipping his arms around his brother just as the nightmare went into overdrive.

Sam had changed, grown, while he’d been away. He’d bulked out, something it was easy to miss under all those shirts he wore and it was very different holding him close now with all that muscle. Last time Dean had done this, Sam had still been on the scrawny side, growing so tall so fast, but still shorter than Dean.

Dean held Sam close, and the awakening lost it’s violent edge. Sam stared at him, panting, their noses almost touching, his heart hammering in his chest. Dean stroked his hair back from his face, whispering soothing words.

“S’okay bro … I got ya …”

Slowly the tension left Sam's body and he allowed himself to be gathered up in Deans arms.

"Clowns or midgets?" Dean asked, not even sure if Sam would remember the question he'd always asked when Sam was a kid and he'd woken up frightened in the night. It was a stupid little ritual that usually brought the smallest of smiles to Sam's lips as he answered, and acted as a reassurance to Dean that he was back from wherever the bad dream had taken him.

Sam's eyes were confused, but with a shuddering breath he curled against Dean’s chest, his arms slipping around his waist and when the answer came, was so quiet Dean almost missed it.

"Clowns."

Dean smiled and rested his head on his brother’s sweat damp hair. Maybe NOW they could get some sleep, Dean thought as he closed his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean woke up to warm breath on his neck and Sam curled around his back. He lay still for a while, warm and contented. Stayed until Sam had murmured "Jess" over his skin and a small twinge of confusing disappointment caught him unawares. He carefully extracted himself from Sam's arms and once he was sitting back on his own bed, he nudged Sam awake just enough so that he wouldn't fall back into disturbed sleep while Dean was gone. He found his jeans in a pile on the floor where he'd left them the night before, and shrugged on an almost clean shirt, picking up his jacket on the way out to find them both breakfast.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Half an hour later, Dean blustered back into the motel room with two large coffees, Sam’s made with steamed milk and sugar, and two bags of breakfast. Dean wasn’t sure what was in them, but whatever the special was for the day, he was counting on it being edible. He’d been too busy flirting with the petite blonde sitting at the counter in the diner to take much notice of the menu.

“It’s Sam,” Sam mumbled, still only half awake.

Dean ignored him.

“Sleep well?” he asked as Sam blinked sleepily.

“Yeah, I did.”

Sam stared up at him, and Dean could almost hear his mind whirring behind the little creases on his forehead, the ones he got when he was over-thinking something.

“Good. Me too.” Dean set Sam’s coffee down on the nightstand with one of the bags and sat down on his own bed. He fished in his bag, pleasantly surprised by the contents, and started to eat.

Sam sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, knees brushing Dean’s, and picked up the coffee. Apart from it secretly being decaf, Dean had made sure it was exactly how Sam liked it, and he was rewarded by Sam almost purring as he drank down his first mouthful.

Dean smiled to himself, happy that Sam had finally gotten some well needed sleep, and he ate another sausage. They ate in companionable silence, Sam picking at his breakfast and sipping his coffee until every last drop was gone.

"Thanks, man." Sam brushed Dean's shoulder on the way to the bathroom and Dean assumed the thanks were for the coffee. But then Sam stopped in the doorway and looked back at his brother.

“Dean, last night did you ...?” Sam paused, as if he wasn't sure whether to ask the question or not.

“Did I what?”

“Never mind.”

Dean sighed with relief as the door closed behind Sam, noting that this time he didn't lock it. He hoped Sam wouldn't remember why he'd slept so well and that they could hit the road without having to "talk" about it. And if Sam did remember and didn't feel the need to discuss it, all the better. If something that had always helped Sam sleep when he was a kid still worked now, then Dean was fine with it. He finished eating and packed up as he waited for Sam, humming Rambling On as he carried his bag out to the Impala.

Chapter Two