Some Nights

Same Old, (Sam)e Old

caution: (possible trigger warning) this story takes place in season two when the boys are still dealing with their father's death. includes spanking (hurt/comfort/sadness/grief)

Just as Dean was pulling into Bobby's, rain began to fall. By the time he was opening the Impala's door, it was torrential, turning the ground into instant mud. He sighed, and tried to protect the bag he was carrying with his jacket by tucking it up underneath his arm, making a mad dash for the house. He almost slipped a few times, but caught himself. By the time he made it to the door, it was a full storm, complete with thunder and lightning.

"Just in time." Bobby greeted him as the very soaked Winchester walked through the door. He was greeted with a trademark smirk. "How did the hunt go?"

Dean took the bag out from under his arm, setting it on the table. "Killed the sons of bitches." He took off his dripping jacket, hanging it up on the hooks by the door. "Um..." Dean coughed. "How's Sam?"

Bobby hide his smile. Dean's concern for his brother never failed, no matter how much he tried to hide it. "He's grumpy as hell."

Dean smirked. "Yeah. Giving you trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle. And the threat of the hairbrush seemed to calm him down enough to sleep, I think."

"Is he still asleep?"

The older man shrugged. "Go see him yourself."

He felt some sympathy as Dean hesitated. The brothers had had a huge altercation in the early morning when Dean informed Sam that in fact he would NOT being going with him to finish the hunt they started just the day before. Sam said some things that he would probably regret later Dean had stormed out of the house without saying goodbye, taking off in the newly rebuilt Impala, and Bobby prayed for the first time in years that he would come back unharmed, that the words left in the air wouldn't be the last words haunting the youngest Winchester for the rest of his life.

"Maybe later." Dean finally said, and took off up the steps. "I don't want to wake him up if he is sleeping."

Bobby seriously doubted that Sam was sleeping. That boy knew the sound of the Impala anywhere, he had been riding in it since he was a baby, and twenty three years didn't change that. All the same though, he knew that the brothers would have to work it out on their own. He watched the oldest brother pick up the bag off the table, and disappear up the stairs, wishing not for the first time that John Winchester was still alive. He could see how badly the boys were hurting from his untimely death, and wished that he could say something that would help ease the pain.

Dean walked softly down the long hallway, avoiding the places where the floor creaked, hoping that he wasn't disturbing his brother. He went to the room that Bobby had deemed his, and quickly changed out of his soaking wet clothes. Finally he gripped the bag, steeling himself, and walked down to where Sam's room was. He avoiding knocking, just in case Sam was asleep, and pushed the door open just enough that he could slip in quietly.

Bobby wasn't kidding about threatening Sam. The wooden hairbrush was sitting on top of the dresser, a glaring threat to all who had it against their backsides. Dean softly walked over to his brother's bed, but stopped suddenly when Sam turned over, the sudden movement making him catch his breath. This was so stupid, but the last thing he needed was Sam screaming at him again. The earlier words echoed in his head, and he tried to shove down the hurt.

"Dean...?"Sam moaned, blinking at him.

The older brother took in his appearance, feeling once again he had made the right call not letting him come out with him today. "Yeah." He said quietly. "It's me."