Sam collapsed back onto his bed with a tired groan -
- And promptly bolted back up when he looked to his side to see Jesse standing by his bed.
"Gah - Hey, Jesse." Sam rubbed at his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair. "What's up?"
Jesse bit his lip unsurely. "Can... Can I stay here with you tonight? Just for a little bit, I won't bother you -"
Sam's first instinct was to say 'of course' given how many times he'd already found Jesse curled up in his sheets (and possibly his shirts, though it was debatable whether Jacob or Jesse had stolen his green and blue plaid shirt) but a cold flush of anxiety shot through him as he remembered Dean and the Blade.
He sighed, sliding his legs off the bed and turning to face Jesse. "I don't think that's the best idea right now, Jesse."
"... Oh," Jesse said softly, shrinking into himself, and damn, Sam was starting to see why people kept complaining about his puppy eyes. The kid could probably achieve world peace with that look.
"It's not because of you," Sam assured him, one hand soft on Jesse's shoulder, "It's just... Dean's not entirely himself right now, and I don't want you getting caught in the crossfire."
Jesse tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. "It's evil, I can feel it."
Sam sighed. "Yeah, me too." He didn't know if it was because it was Lucifer's mark, or because of demonic influence, but he could feel the power of the Mark of Cain and the First Blade resonating in the air, even in the bunker. It made his fingers itch for his Taurus.
"You're not safe here, Jesse, you understand?"
"You're not safe, either!" Jesse protested.
Sam's lips quirked. "Dean's - Dean's my brother. I'll be fine."
"I could stay and help!" Jesse tried again, "My powers -"
"Jesse, it's not your job to protect me."
"But I could!"
Sam smiled gently, squeezing his shoulder. "I know, kiddo. But, steer clear of the bunker for a while, okay? For me."
Jesse scowled mutinously, but nodded.
The image of Abaddon's bloody and mutilated corpse flickered at the back of Sam's mind and he steeled himself for his next question. "You know what to do if anything happens to me?"
"Let Ben and Jacob kill Dean?" Jesse asked innocently, eyes wide and guileless.
Sam sputtered. "No, Jesse!"
The corner of Jesse's mouth ticked up impishly and Sam chuckled, tousling his hair affectionately. "You tell Ben, Jacob, and Claire what happened, and then you go up to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to Jody Mills, okay? She'll take care of you."
Jesse's expression grew somber and he nodded. He bit his lip, and then lurched forward, burying his face in Sam's shoulder, thin arms wrapping around the tall man's neck. "Don't die, Sam."
Sam's breath hitched as his arms came up around Jesse. The words hit him like a punch to the gut; he was used to playing fast and loose with his own life when it came to Dean, anything to save Dean, always willing to give everything of himself.
Sam stroked Jesse's hair, soothing him as Jesse clutched at him. "I'll do my best, Jesse."
Jesse nodded and released Sam, absently leaning into Sam's touch, warm on the side of his neck. Sam smiled gently. "Take care of yourself, Jesse."
Jesse disappeared in a flicker of shadow and Sam sighed tiredly, rubbing his face again. Anxiety warred with exhaustion in his veins, and his fingers were curled around his gun before he even realised what he was doing.
Sam blinked at the silver handgun and groaned softly, collapsing back on the mattress. He swore softly and closed his eyes.