Disclaimer: I do not own supernatural I just like to amuse myself with them. Its way too much fun! (eyebrows wiggling)
This story is set in season one before they team back up with their father.
Sam looked at the clock sitting on the nightstand between the two beds in the motel room they had been calling home for the past six days. It was just after four in the morning and as usual he couldn't sleep. Instead he was sitting at the small rickety table using his laptop to surf the internet for their next job. Last night they had finally been able to destroy the Black Dog that had been plaguing the area for the past several weeks and they were both tired.
Dean was asleep on the bunk closest to the door. He had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. That was something about his brother that had always amazed him. Dean could fall asleep anytime, anywhere and he never seemed to have nightmares. Sam wished he had that freedom, but for him, sleep was no longer the place of solace that it should be. Now it seemed that every time he closed his eyes the horrors they faced while awake followed him into his dreams.
Those nightmares were bad enough, but the ones he had of Jessica were becoming unbearable. They reminded him almost every night, that it was his fault that she was dead. If he had only warned her what was out there. If he had told her of his dream… but he didn't. Even though he had dreamed of her death night after night before it happened, he did nothing. And she had paid the ultimate price for his failure.
Sometimes he wondered why he had ever been born. His mother and Jessica were dead. Both died horrible deaths and Sam knew they were killed because of him. His father and Dean had placed themselves in jeopardy so many times to protect him. It seemed that everyone he knew was being hurt or killed because of him. The lives of the people he loved the most would have been so much better if he had never been born.
But Sam was a realist and he knew he could not change the past. He was here and they were gone. During the day, when he was awake he could put all these things behind him. He could do what needed to be done. He could survive. It was at night, when he slept and had no sway over his thoughts and dreams; that was when he lost control. That was when his own personal demons were able to triumph over his mind. That's why he hated the night. That's why sleep came so reluctantly to him and why he envied his brother.
So, as has become his habit since leaving school, instead of a good night's sleep he sat at the laptop doing what he did best, scouring the internet for another something else that they could find and destroy.
At four thirty Dean's eyes opened and without moving he watched his brother as he sat at the table and quietly scanned the laptop. Sam was tired, but he wouldn't or couldn't sleep. Dean knew the nightmares that plagued his brother were taking there toll on him. He just didn't know how to protect his brother from them. If he could just get Sam to focus on the good parts of their job, saving people, destroying evil it would help. He was sure that if Sam stopped focusing on the things they hunted and if he could forgive himself for what happened to Jessica things would be easier for him. Dean wasn't sure how he was supposed to do that, but he knew he had to find a way.
"Sam, you need some sleep," he told his brother. "You can't keep doing this."
Sam looked over the laptop at Dean, "I'm not tired," he said.
"Yeah, right," Dean said and sat up on the bed. "Sammy, you know you are going to have to find away to make them stop."
Sam had found something interesting on line and was only half paying attention to his brother. "Make what stop?" Sam asked absently.
Sam stopped reading and looked up at his brother. "Dean…"
Dean put his hand up, "Don't say your fine, your not fine Sam. You barely sleep anymore. You spend all your time hunting. You need to lighten up, have a little fun from time to time."
"Hey, I'm just doing what you suggested Dean," Sam told him. "I'm going to kill as many evil sons of bitches as I can. Remember, that's what you told me to do."
"I know, I remember," Dean told him. "But I think you're forgetting the other things I told you that night."
"Well, for one, we are saving people Sammy. It might help if you focus on the people we save instead of the other things."
"And maybe you should remember we DO waste the bastards. None of them have ever gotten away once we find them, none of them."
"I know, but it's just…"
"Just what Sammy?"
Sam sighed, "Don't you think that sometimes the price for what we do is too high?"
"What do you mean?"
"Dean, come on, dad's missing, you nearly died, several times, and Jessica is… gone."
"You know, I told you when I was in the hospital, it's a dangerous gig. I know you didn't think I was serious, but I was. I know full well how dangerous what we do is. So do you and so does Dad. It's a chance I AM willing to take and as for Jessica, how many times am I going to have to tell you, Jessica's death was not your fault?"
"Maybe. But maybe I could have stopped it, if I had just believed my dreams."
"How could you? You had no way of knowing you were having a premonition. You said yourself that was the first one you'd ever had."
Sam didn't answer, but Dean could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Sam needed time to consider what Dean had told him and work it out for himself. "So, find anything new for us?" He asked changing the subject.