Hold on and Never Let Go

Sam sat on the hotel bed, hugging his knees. He was worring about his dad and Dean. He woke up this morning to an empty hotel room, the other bed untouched. Apperently, John and Dean hadn't returned last night from hunting the werewolves that were prowling the town. He looked out the window to the parking lot, but the Impala was nowhere in sight. Sam didn't know what to do, so he took a shower and brushed his teeth. When he looked out the window for the second time, the Impala was still absent. He sighed and laid down on the bed. He grabbed the remote and flicked the tv on. He flipped through the channels, uninterested. Commercial, commercial, and oh, look.....a commercial, he thought drily. He turned the tv off and rolled around so he was laying on his side, facing the wall. All he could think to do to pass the time was to sleep. Sammy tried fiercely to sleep, but turned up empty handed. He laid in the bed staring at a crack in the ceiling. He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard the door creak open. He jumped up and squeaked, "Dean!" Dean flinched at Sam's high pitched squeal. "Where's Dad? Did he just drop you off? Why didn't he stay? What happened to your face? I should shut up now." Sammy babbled, watching the Impala roar out of the parking lot and then looking at Dean's face. Dean smirked at his little brother's anxiousness.

"Dad left. He said he had work to do and would be back later, and my face.......well, I face planted into a barbed wire fence." Dean commented on his scratched and clawed face, his sarcasm breaking through.

"Dean......." Sam chastised. He could be so fatherly sometimes, which irritated Dean to the core.

"I got pinned, okay Sam? Geez!" Dean exclaimed, thoroughly annoyed. He sat down on the bed opposite of Sam's and pointed the remote at the tv, which flickered to life. Sammy knew immediately what Dean meant. He meant that he was caught off guard and attacked.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Sam inquired, taking a step towards Dean's clawed figure.

"No, Sam!" Dean despised yelling at his brother, but he hated it when Sam tried to be all helpful. Sammy just didn't understand. He didn't understand that being a hunter entailed getting hurt sometimes, and you had to deal with it. As a hunter, you have to learn to depend on yourself, and not anyone else. Only when a job was too big for a hunter would he rely on someone else to help him. John had ingrained that into Dean's heart and mind at an early age. John had attempted to conform Sam's thinking around that aspect, but Sammy refused to accept the idea.

The hurt look on Sam's face fazed Dean more than Dean would've ever believed. His face relaxed and his gorgeous eyes softened. "Sam," Dean spoke softly, "I guess you can help.....if you want to," he added quickly. No matter what attitude and appearance Dean projected, he really did care about Sammy and how he felt. Sam grabbed Dean's wrist cautiously. He didn't know if Dean was going to change his mind and yell at him. Sam pulled Dean off the bed and started towards the bathroom. He got a couple cotton balls and alcohol while Dean jumped up on the bathroom counter. Sammy twisted the top off the alcohol and the astringent smell filled the small, pale white bathroom. He poured a little on the cotton and reached up towards Dean's face. He rubbed the alcohol drenched cotton ball over a gash and Dean flinched.

"Damn, that hurt," Dean declared. Sam just laughed to himself as he kept wiping the cotton ball over the lacerations on Dean's handsome face, resoaking the cotton ball in the astringent alcohol, and starting his course again. Dean bit his lip and stared at Sammy's face the whole time. He knew he shouldn't say anything, he knew he should keep his mouth shut, but what Dean knows he should do and what he does are always two different things. He winced at the sting and then said, "Sam," he stopped. He didn't continue. I shouldn't continue, he thought.

"What?" Sammy asked, keeping his focus on cleaning the shallow wounds on Dean's face, red from the alcohol.

"Nothing, forget it," Dean said, averting his eyes to a picture of a red and white lighthouse shining brilliantly against the dull bathroom wall.

"What, Dean? Tell me." Sam demanded. He stopped tending to Dean's face and stared his older brother in the eyes, the eyes with the beautiful, nameless, indescribable color that matched his own. In that moment, something happened. Something that cannot be explained in words. Sam saw something in Dean he hadn't seen before.....a tenderness, a....love. Dean was scared because he knew that his eyes would portray his feelings, so when he looked into Sammy's eyes, he reeled with shock. He had always known that Sam was a caring person, but he never knew the depths of that caring nature, the loving ideals. Sam's eyes reflected the same thing Dean's did. A tenderness, a love who's depths always went unshown, only the beginning of that love played out in Sammy's actions.

The next thing that Sam knew, he was leaning forward, towards Dean. He pressed his lips to his brother's very softly, uncertain, but that didn't last long. The minute their lips made contact, fireworks exploded. The sparks wiped away all uncertainty in both brothers and all caution was abandoned. Dean placed his hands on the back of Sam's neck as Sammy placed his hands on Dean's waist. They pushed their lips together harder, hard enough that if their lips were hot metal, they would have fused together into one. Dean licked Sam's bottom lip, asking permission. Sammy opened his mouth immediately and let Dean roam and memorize Sam's mouth. They pulled apart and rested their foreheads together. They knew what they did was wrong; they knew they shouldn't have done it, but they didn't care. They had finally found happiness, and even if it was with each other, they were going to hold on to it and never let it go.