The Runt of the Litter

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Note: hey my sweets 💜 thanks so much for the kind words. you're all pretty awesome

i have a one track mind lately, ig, bc i've got some more Sammy content for you. i just love him so much 😭

anna is eighteen

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Sam was curled up in bed, and it was almost noon. Anna was worried, to say the least. She knocked gently on the door and pressed her ear against it to listen for a reply. But it was so quiet, she almost wondered if Sam was in there at all.

"Sammy," she called softly. She didn't dare call out any louder or even knock again.

Maybe it was better to let him be. He wasn't at his best right now. He was torn up over Eileen's passing and a whole lot of other things before that. Mary's departure and betrayal, for one. Dean's withdrawal and anger, for another.

Anna sat down with her back against the wall. She would be a high school graduate in just a month or so, and she already felt so far out of her league with this hunting stuff. Didn't help that she was only allowed into all this crap when there were no other options left.

"Are you okay?" she called through the wall. Her voice was still quiet, but if he was awake, he'd hear her.

There was a sound from inside the room that had her scrambling to her feet. That hadn't exactly been an answer to her question. She wasn't sure it had been a word at all. But it sounded pained, and that was a scary thought.

Anna twisted the doorknob murmuring under her breath, "Don't be naked." She swung the door open and stepped inside. The room was dark except for the light coming in from the hallway. "Dude," Anna breathed.

Sam was asleep in his jeans and a t-shirt, curled up in the middle of his bed. He hadn't even taken his boots off. Well, he'd taken one boot off, which was almost worse.

Anna instantly felt like this was a situation better suited for Dean than herself. But Dean wasn't home, and she was, and she could hardly back out of the room and pretend she hadn't seen this. She was worried.

"Sammy," she said softly, walking tenderly toward his bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress and reached out to lay a hand on her brother's arm. He tensed, and she realized suddenly that he wasn't asleep at all. "Shit dude, you're awake?" she asked. She pulled her hand off his arm when she understood belatedly that he didn't seem to want the contact.

"Head," Sam said shortly, the word all breath.

Anna frowned, tilting her own head as she tried to puzzle out what he'd said and what he meant by it. Head. Headache? Migraine. The scene was suddenly familiar. But she still felt outmatched. This was Dean's forte.

"Migraine?" she asked in a low voice. Dean always spoke like that for their brother. Higher tones probably made the headaches worse. That made sense to her.

She watched very closely and caught the slight nod Sam eventually gave her. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, hands shielding him from what little bit of light was reaching the bed.

"I'll be right back," Anna promised and ran her fingers gently through her brother's hair. She used to play with his hair as a kid, but it hadn't been for the purpose of comforting him then. It had just been a way of fidgeting, a sign of how comfortable she was with her brother. It was a little awkward, imitating Dean's usual gestures of care. But Anna had nothing else to go on.

She got up and went into the hallway, careful to close the door enough that no light would be exacerbating Sam's headache. Her mind skipped around, considering all the things the boys did for her when she didn't feel well. But Sam's migraines weren't like other illnesses. He couldn't eat comfort foods. He couldn't even drink warm tea or flat ginger-ale.