This is the first of a several my stories that I'm posting here off of my livejournal. The link to my livejournal can be found in my profile.

Title: Alone
Author: LadyReivin
Beta: xxkatinar (livejournal)
Word Count: 1,828
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluff
Disclaimer: I own a handful of DVDs and English books and history books…but alas, not the boys.
Summary: When Sam left and went to Stanford the hardest thing to adjust to was sleeping alone, having spent his whole life sharing a bed with his oldest brother.

Author's Note: The idea for this was born when I was watching "The Outsiders" like the geek I am. I wasn't even half an hour into the movie and I had a fic idea. I think I, or my muse (or both), need help…but hey! At least this time I can't blame xxkatinar for me not working on what I should be, hehe.

When Sam left and went to Stanford the hardest thing to adjust to was sleeping alone. He'd spent his whole life sharing a bed with his brother, sleeping with their backs pressed together, feeling the warmth of his brother and the steady, calming sound of his breathing. But at Stanford there was no such thing. He had a small dorm room to himself and the only sounds at night were the parties, the guy two doors down screaming at someone on the phone, and the light sound of traffic outside. It took months for Sam to be able to sleep for more than a few exhausted hours at night, took months for him to adjust to be alone in a bed.

When Dean turned fourteen, their father had tried to get two different rooms so that Sam and Dean could have their own beds. But the next morning when he opened the door to the boys' room he found them asleep together in the bed farthest from the door, Dean's dirty blond hair just poking out from under the covers.

John separated the boys and told them to sleep in their own beds the next night, only to come in to the same thing the next morning. After a few days he finally gave up and asked them why it was that they didn't sleep in two beds, especially with Dean going through puberty and all now. The reply he got from his oldest son was that "Sammy needed me". Sam was stubbornly quiet.

The next night John slipped into the room after he was sure his boys were asleep and sat in a chair in the corner, watching them. He watched as Dean tossed and turned and Sam was curled up in a tight ball, whimpering softly. By the time the nightmares took his youngest son, Dean was climbing out of his own bed, eyes half open, and sliding into bed with Sam. Dean pulled the covers over them and pressed his back against Sam's. John could only watch as they both settled down to sleep then.

The moment reminded John of right after the accident, when he'd always wake up and find Dean asleep in little Sammy's crib. It was the only way that his infant son would stop crying, and that the older one seemed at peace. And from then on he stopped trying to separate them at night.

It was this life long habit of sharing a bed with Dean that made it so that Sam had trouble sleeping on his own. The nightmares were back with a vengeance and the bed, while only a single instead of a double, seemed too big and too cold. He missed knocking elbows and cold feet with his brother as they fought for control of the blankets and space once Sam began to grow.

Sam found some peace at night again when he started dating Jessica. The few nights they spent together in the beginning of the relationship were the best nights sleep that he would get. And then when they moved in together the nightmares ceased – for a while.

She always found it odd that more often than not he would sleep with his back against hers, instead of spooning behind her like all her other boyfriends had. He would pull the blankets up to his ears, hands fisted in them under his chin, and fall asleep. She never questioned it though, would only turn over and wrap her arms around him in those last months when the nightmares took hold of him. She would stroke his hair and murmur softly in his ear, bringing him out of them. No matter how many times she asked though, he would never share what he dreamt of, and he would never fall back asleep afterwards.

After her death, when he was back on the road with his brother, back to hunting, Sam was unable to sleep once again. For the first time since he was in the dorm rooms, he was sleeping alone. The bed was bigger, a queen, and he was able to lay at an angle so that his feet didn't hang off, but it didn't make much of a difference. He was still plagued with nightmares and most nights, insomnia. He always shrugged off Dean's questions on his nightmares and sleeping habits, just pushing forward. The very fact that Dean always got two queens gave Sam the impression that Dean no longer wished to share a bed. That he had enjoyed the freedom while Sam was away, no longer tied to his younger brother's needs. Thusly, Sam kept his mouth shut and when he went to get them a room, he copied Dean and got two queens.

This continued on for months until he landed themselves in the middle of Colorado in a wide spot town that only had one vacancy in their single motel. It wasn't the honey room suit, but it only had a single king size bed. Dean apologized briefly and then made a few bad jokes that made Sam scowl at him and contemplate bashing his brother's head in with his laptop. But on the inside something that had been empty and wound tight relaxed at the idea of that night.

When night came they both stripped down to their boxer-briefs and tee shirts before pulling the blankets back. Sam slid into the bed first, while Dean was still in the bathroom brushing his teeth. He never questioned why he always slept furthest from the door, just stuck to the habit, even now. He let Dean feel like he was protecting him or whatever it was that lead to this habit. By the time Dean came out of the bathroom Sam was already laying on his side, hands fisted in the blankets, holding them under his chin.

Sam kept his eyes closed as he listened to Dean move around the room, checking the salt lines and sigils before he turned out the main lights and sat on the edge of the bed. He stayed still as he felt the bed shift and groan as Dean slid under the blankets and turned out the last light before he settled down on his own side of the bed. It didn't take long, both of them shifting slightly, trying to get comfortable, for them to settle with their backs pressed against each other in the middle of the bed. Sam sighed softly, relaxing against the warmth of his brother's broad back as he fell asleep.

For the first time since Jessica's death he slept without nightmares. He woke naturally the next morning as the sunlight began to filter around the curtains and warm the room. Sam felt content and warm, his feet tangled with Dean's. They had shifted during the night, Dean rolling over to face him, his arm now around Sam's waist, holding him close.

The feel of Dean's steady breath against the back of his neck lulled Sam back into a state of half sleep, filled with memories of the past.

"Turn out the light, Sammy." Dean groused from the bed, his back to his younger brother. "I've got work in the morning."

"Okay, okay." Sam replied as he closed his book and turned out the light, moving carefully across the small room to the old, rickety double bed he shared with his brother. "I just finished anyways."

Sam was nearly fifteen years old and finally starting to shoot up in height. He was skinny and all angles while Dean was nineteen going on twenty and his body had long since filled out, long lean muscles and hard planes. The bed was too small for them, they'd outgrown doubles several years back, but it was the only thing that they could afford, and the only thing that would fit in the small room of the rundown house they were renting.

Sam pulled the blankets back and slid into bed next to Dean, wincing as the whole bed moved and screeched in complaint at the added weight. He wiggled around a little, trying to avoid that one broken spring that liked to poke him in the hip. Once comfortable he pulled his share of blankets up and pushed his head into the pillow, sighing softly.

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean asked a few minutes later, pulling Sam from the grips of sleep as he felt his brother roll over, the bed once again complaining, before Dean's arm snaked around his waist, his large, warm hand wrapping around Sam's bone thin wrist.

"Yeah?" Sam couldn't help but lean back slightly into Dean's warmth, basking in the safety and comfort his brother always offered.

"You need to stop fighting with Dad, kiddo." Dean said, propping his head up on one elbow, looking down at Sam, his breath warm and damp against Sam's ear. "He pushes you like this 'cause he wants you to succeed. He doesn't want you to get hurt on a hunt or somethin', but you can't keep fighting him like this…he's doing his best. You know that."

Sam was quiet for a bit, chewing on his lower lip as he looked at the window across from the bed, watching the lights of passing cars filter through the thin blinds. "Yeah, I know." He sighed softly. "But, Dean, I hate this. I don't want to hunt. I'm tired of sitting at home when you two go out and wondering who won't be coming back. Wondering if this next time I won't be able to stitch you up. And I'm tired of always moving around, never completing a school year, or having time to make any friends."

Dean squeezed Sam's wrist gently, pulling him closer as his thumb ran over the fragile skin that covered the veins. "You've got me." He said softly in Sam's ear. "You don't need those friends. And I ain't going anywhere, so stop worrying so much."

"I can't help it." Sam murmured, rolling slightly to look up at Dean, just barely able to see his brother's features in the pale blue of the night. "You're my brother and best friend."

Dean smiled at him, squeezing his wrist again. "Right back at ya, kiddo." He said softly before he settled back down on the bed, one arm curling around their heads, the other still holding Sam's wrist. "Enough chick flick moments, get some rest, Sammy." He murmured against Sam's neck.

"G'night, Dean." Sam said softly as he closed his eyes, leaning back against Dean's chest. He fell asleep to the soft, comforting breaths of his brother against his neck, and the warmth of Dean's embrace.

When Dean finally woke up they untangled from each other and went about their morning absolutions as if nothing had happened while they slept, like it was any other day. But from then on Dean began requesting a single king bed for them to sleep in, and Sam's nightmares were a thing of the past.