A/N: Ha! Thought you'd gotten rid of me, didn't you? Well, the new season's giving me all sorts of inspirations...my only problem is that pesky little thing called college and midterms. However, I'll try and keep fics coming as much as possible. If you don't see new fics from me, don't worry; I haven't dropped off the face of the earth. Not entirely, anyways.

Morning seemed sudden, considering the long night, and Sam's eyes opened immediately when sunlight began to filter in. He took in the hotel room first, the green walls, the floral décor. The TV was turned off in front of him, and his bag of things was piled next to it. Just the usual day.

His eye caught hold of the bed beside him, and suddenly, it all came rushing back. The diner. Bobby. The demons. Dean.

His head whipped around towards the bed and he stared at the neatly made covers. The pillows were fluffed, and it hadn't been touched. He sat up straight, eyes darting every which way. Nothing besides his bag of things, the few weapons he had out, and the key to the room on the table. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and the light was off. He was the only one in the room.

Only Winchester left standing.

His chest twisted viciously, and he closed his eyes. Breathed in and out, swallowed twice before he dared look up again.

He hated when he did this. Hated dreaming that Dean had somehow come back, and he really wasn't there. Every time he thought his heart couldn't shatter anymore, it broke into tinier pieces. The stupid dreams were going to kill him, one way or another.

Sam pushed the covers away and stood, resigned. Another day alone without his brother. God, but he'd really felt that last dream, and it wasn't helping anything. He glanced up at the ceiling out of curiosity, in hope, but only saw stucco white. He must've dreamed the mirror ceiling, dreamed the entire other hotel.

Wouldn't have been the first time. He stared at the second bed dully, then made his way over to his bag. He didn't sleep in it, used it for nothing more than storage, but sometimes, getting a second bed was worth a little extra to keep his sanity intact. To imagine that there was a place there, even if the person who belonged on it was never coming back. The ache in his chest grew marginally, and he took in a deep breath to try and fill it.

Never worked. Wasn't helping now. He unzipped his pack slowly and carefully, then took out his clothes for the day.

"God Sam, I thought you were still asleep. I didn't even hear you-"

Sam jerked around, stumbling and barely catching himself on the wall as he stared in shock at Dean, who was in the doorway of the bathroom. Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, stared right back as Sam panted heavily, his heart racing a million miles an hour in his chest. His pulse was heavy in his ears, and the adrenaline from the surprise, from the unexpected voice, made him feel lightheaded and too wired to care.

"Sam?" Dean asked, his face twisting into a frown. God, Dean was there, frowning, but he was there...

"Sorry," was all Sam managed to get out, his throat closing up. He swallowed hard and tried again, his voice weak. "Sorry, you startled me, I...I thought I was alone, I forgot-"

The adrenaline rush forced the sob from him, and Sam buried his face in his hands. He fell back against the wall, his back hitting with a dull thud, before he slid down to sit on the floor, his knees bent to protect and shield him as he cried, except it was Dean, so they didn't really need to shield him, but...

Dean.

It hadn't been a dream, after all. Dean had really shown up with Bobby. They'd gone to the diner and met up with demons. Sam had left and taken care of them, then returned to a trashed room.

The memories filtered in at last, and he let his head fall forward, resting against his knees as he shook and cried. The memories of Dean finding him in the center of the room as he stared in shock at the mess and feared the worst. Of Dean and Bobby packing up his things and dragging him out, to another hotel a few miles away. Of getting another room, one with two beds, except Sam had refused to let go of Dean, of Dean sharing one of the beds with Sam, just so Sam could hear him breathing.

His knees were being shifted and pushed aside, he realized, right before familiar hands pulled him into strong arms he remembered from years of care. "I'm still here," Dean whispered quietly in his ear. Sam tried to speak and wound up choking back another sob instead, so simply let himself lean against Dean. Dean, who was solid and real and he wasn't dreaming this time.

His hands slid away from his face, one reaching out and wrapping around Dean's t-shirt. The other hand rested over Dean's heart, and Sam closed his eyes, trying to stifle his tears enough to hear the breath and feel the heartbeat underneath. Dean's arms tightened around him, and slowly Sam's tears began to taper off. Even between the occasional sniffle, he could still feel the heart beating steadily underneath his palm. Dean's chest rose and fell with each breath he took, and he found himself slowly beginning to breathe in time.

"I was looking in the mirror."

Dean's quiet voice pulled Sam from his careful matching of breaths. "The light was off," he answered, his voice rough from crying.

"Didn't really want to see anything," Dean replied, his voice dropping even further in volume. Sam shifted to meet Dean's gaze, and found troubled green eyes. "Just wanted to breathe and...be. If I looked, I was just going to see the handprints."

An image of the bright red, puffed skin filtered through Sam's mind, and he couldn't hold back the shudder. "I'm glad you didn't show me right away," he said quietly after a moment.

"Figured you'd freak, but apparently you decided to wait until today to do that." Dean shifted around him but still didn't let go. "And concerning that, you really thought, what, all of yesterday was a dream?"

The voice that was tinged with sarcasm faded away. A few moments later, Sam staying still and silent in Dean's arms, the voice returned, this time shocked, regretful, and gentle. "Oh god, you really did, didn't you?"

"Wouldn't have been the first time," Sam added. Dean's fingers dug into him as they gripped tightly, and Sam let his head rest more fully against his brother's shoulder.

The sun was more insistent now, hitting the wall and sloping down towards where they sat. Sam watched it move and brighten through sore, swollen eyes. The green in the room was still as floral and obnoxious as before, but Sam didn't find himself minding. Not now, with Dean back, Dean really there. Sam could deal with anything so long as his big brother was there.

That thought led to another, and Sam cleared his throat. "Dean?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Next time you need to just 'be'...can you do it somewhere that I can see you?"

A solid chin rested carefully on the top of his head, and Sam closed his eyes again. "Yeah, Sammy," Dean whispered. "I can do that."

END