Remember Me (destiel)

Chapter 1

Another day another long drive to another insignificant town. Dean was watching aimlessly out of the window fantasising about what could change. Maybe something will be different and John would decide to stay, just for a little longer than usual. "Dean?" Sam asked snapping him out of his daydream. "Yeah," he responded groggily.
"Dad's talking to you." He said quietly. Dean gulped before shrinking into the seat and nervously asking, "sorry, what did you say dad?"
"I said: we're almost there, I'm going straight to the crime scene, look after Sammy and wait where I tell you to wait."
"Yes sir." Dean nodded straightening his spine and nodding like a well trained soldier. He saw his father nod in the rear-view mirror of the old impala and relaxed back into the leather seat. He turned back and watched the trees and buildings going past on the side of the road. He turned to look at his little brother who was now sleeping with his head resting against the door, the book he was reading still clutched in his hand. Dean leant over and took it making sure to mark the page before closing it. He looked at the cover and immediately felt a wave of guilt rush over him, his little brother was 13 he should be reading things like harry potter, not the encyclopaedia of summoning symbols.

Soon enough the car stopped outside the cheapest motel around. Dean nudged Sam's shoulder, waking him up gently. "Hey, we're here," he said when Sam's eyes reluctantly opened, "you can go back to sleep when when we get in there." Sam groaned in response but sat up and grabbed his bag from the footwell, climbing out of the car clumsily. He joined his brother standing patiently by the side of the sleek, black car. John came back from the reception with a key in his hand. Once close enough he tossed it to dean and made his way to the car door. He grunted a farewell and nodded at the boy before climbing into the drivers seat and pulling away. He read the number on the key and directed Sam to the correct door.

The motel room was old and damp, Dean didn't mind, he'd stayed in worse. The faded wallpaper looked like it used to have a bright floral pattern, a few decades ago. The damp in the corners had only climbed halfway down the walls and the mould on the ceiling didn't reach the centre of the room. He set about creating a large circle of salt around the beds while Sam tried to get the primitive TV to work, he'd always been the smartest. Dean watched with pride has his brother worked, laughing at the small cheer he made when it worked. Dean walked over, pulling the gun out of the back of his trousers before he sat down, resting it on the arm of the chair next to his hand.

After an hour or so of watching nothing much in silence Dean turned to Sam, "it's late you should probably go to sleep," Sam turned around and gave Dean his best bitch face
"Why shouldn't you?"
"Because I've gotta be here to let dad in when he gets back." It was beginning to scare dean how easily the lies could roll off of his tongue without a second thought. He couldn't just tell Sam that he was scared of closing his eyes, he had to be there to help him. He couldn't do that if he was weak. Sam gave up on arguing and stood slowly, walking over to the beds being careful not to break the salt line. Dean barely moved, he just continued to stare at the wall behind the TV.

He didn't know how many hours passed before he was snapped out of his daze by Sam shouting his name. He immediately stood grabbing his gun and pointing it in front of himself. He shoved it back into his waistband when he realised there was nobody there. He jogged over to his brothers sleeping form and gently placed his hand on his shaking shoulder. "Sam," he said as he shook him slightly, Sam just shouted the word "NO!" Still asleep. Dean shook him more and called louder "Sammy!" This time Sam shot up instantly awake, his eyes darted around the room in blind panic before landing on Dean. "It's ok Sammy, just a bad dream." Dean said pulling his brother into a hug, tightening his grip every time a sob racked though his brothers body. 

"C'mon Sammy, it's not that bad, dad'll be done soon and we'll be on our way again" he said staring at the wall opposite him. He couldn't stop his fist from clenching at the thought of his father, it should be him holding Sam while he sobs because he had a nightmare. It was him after all who dragged them into this mess. It was him who talked so openly of ghosts, demons and everything else that nightmares and horror stories spawned from. Dean looked down at the mop of brown hair leaning on his chest, "lay back down and go back to sleep, you know dad doesn't like it when we stay up late." Sam leant back and looked up with red eyes "but I don wanna go back to sleep,"
"Why not?"
"The monsters come back." Deans heart broke just a little more as the words were mumbled from his little brothers mouth. "Well, I'll be right here to help you fight them off."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Pinky swear?" Sam said holding his little finger up, dean smiled wrapping his own pinky finger around it and shook it gently. "Pinky swear. Now go to sleep"

Another few hours had passed and Dean glanced at the star shaped clock on the wall then back to the two phones in his lap. He clicked them both awake and sighed when he saw nothing but the time had changed. No missed calls. No messages. Nothing.
It was now 3:47am and he hadn't heard anything from his father. It was usual for him to not be back for a while but this didn't stop Dean from worrying. He turned to look at his sleeping brother before standing up to check the door. "Night Sammy." He mumbled before walking over to the other bed, lying on top of the sheets fully-clothed, and closing his eyes. He fell into a restless sleep with the phones next to his face and one hand loosely gripping the gun under his pillow.