Little Do You Know

Sam's POV

Sam closed his laptop with a soft click. He had found a possible case, but he was too tired to keep looking into it. The words on the screen had been starting to blur. His watch read 5:47 AM, which gave him maybe an hour-ish of rest before he had to get up at seven. He yawned widely, his eyelids heavy and begging to be closed, but he knew he couldn't sleep. The nightmares had been particularly bad lately, and he didn't want to let them torment his unconsciousness.

    It was just the same old same old—him not being able to save Dean from the pit, him being helpless when Dean was getting his chest shredded to pieces by a hell hound, him searching for months on a way to bring his brother back but coming up empty, and feeling the crushing weight of the guilt of not being able to do a damn thing about his brother's soul burning in hell. Of course, Dean was back from hell now, and Sam was beyond happy, but Sam kept thinking that if he went to sleep, maybe he'd wake up and realize that Dean's return had been the dream, and his nightmares were the reality.

    Sam shook himself—he had been about to nod off, and he didn't want that to happen. He exhaled, leaning back in the desk chair and sweeping a bit of hair out of his face. He looked at the empty bed beside his own, wondering how much fun Dean had had the night before. Ever since the shock of coming back from the dead had worn off, his ever-so-mature big brother had decided that he celebrate with extra booze and even more women. Sam checked his phone for the millionth time for the text that Dean had sent him hours earlier.

    Goin home with Adeline. See ya in the morning.

    Dean often sent messages like that. There was no reason for Sam to obsess over this particular text. So why was he? Maybe it was because it was proof that his brother was still here, still free from hell, still with him. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. He was being ridiculous. Of course Dean was still out of hell. He had seen it himself. He shouldn't let these stupid nightmares get to him as much as he let them. They were just dreams. And anyways, he needed sleep, or he wouldn't be able to function properly.

    Sam took off his boots and jeans, finally allowing himself to settle down into his bed. Maybe they wouldn't be so bad this time. Maybe he'd finally get some rest.

    Out of habit, Sam took out a photo of Dean. He had looked at it every night that Dean was in hell, swearing to himself over and over again that he'd bust him out somehow. It depicted his brother leaning against his Baby. He was smiling proudly, in his dirty gray t-shirt and ripped jeans, his legs crossed and one hand patting the roof. He had just given her a new coat of paint and some new rims, and she looked like a dream. The look on Dean's face said, She's a beauty, ain't she? And she's all mine.

    Sam sighed and set the photo down. Dean was alright. He was safe. He was happy. He was home. Well, technically right now he was off sleeping with some chick named Adeline. Sam smiled a bit. At least Dean was having fun. Sam drifted off to sleep peacefully, reassured that everything was alright. But the peace was shattered when he saw his brother screaming as he was torn to shreds.