Brother

o n e

Dean turned off the ignition and leaned forward to press his head to the steering wheel of the impala. It had been a long hunt, and with dad away for the next 6 months, he and Sam had been forced to split up on quite a few hunts now.
Please.

It became sort of a ritual,
Please let him be alright.

pulling up to the motel,
Please be ok.

cutting the engine,
I swear to god-

and sending up a prayer, almost a threat, to whoever was listening,
Please be alive.

that he would find his little brother in one piece at the end of each hunt.

Grabbing the brown paper bag of burgers off of the front seat and slamming the door, the twenty-two year old hurried across the parking lot to their room.
He's seventeen. He can handle his own in a hunt, Dean. He's fine.

He jammed the key into the door, anxious to dissuade his fears. He winced, hearing his father's voice in his head as if he were beside him.
"Your job, above all else, is to protect your brother." John snapped as he raised his arm again.

Dean brushed off the memory, and walked into the motel room.

"Sammy, grub." he called gruffly.

Setting the bag on the table with his keys, he looked around the small and ominously empty room, panic building in his stomach. "Sammy?"

The click of the door made Dean spin around as his brother closing the door behind him. "Hey Dean. Sorry I'm late. I had to-" Sam cut off, looking at the sleeve of his jacket, half of which hung limply from a large tear. He stared at it blankly for a moment, and then shook his head slowly. "I got caught up." He said, and began to walk towards the bed next to his duffel bag.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair and turned back to the food. "Did something happen during your hunt? You seem-" A loud thump behind him interrupted his question, and he turned to see the younger Winchester collapsed on the floor.