The Runt of the Litter

The Big Brother Cure for Insomnia

Note: Short and sweet late night fic anyone? Okay, so I wrote it a while ago and never added to it but I figured it was cute enough to stand alone. Side note- If anyone has something they want to read about Anna, drop a comment with a request. Or just drop a comment about anything. It's been radio silence over here, and I love the comment threads that often surface on SPN fics.

Anyway, I realized that I write way too many high school stories (which is why I'm not posting the super long party story I just wrote for no reason) that don't have enough Sam and Dean in them. Here's a Dean and Anna story for your reading pleasure. Anna is fourteen. Enjoy. (Also, sorry for the rambling.)

The Big Brother Cure for Insomnia

Maybe insomnia gets purer with age. I certainly feel like the things I stay awake thinking about get bigger and worse with every passing year. Instead of worrying about when we'll find Dad and whether he wants us to, my current waking nightmares are much more personal and far more terrifying.

What if I'm what I'm afraid of? What if who I am is fundamentally wrong? What if my creation is a mistake and there was never meant to be this complication in the lives of two heroes like my brothers?

But these are the abstract questions, the ones that I can avoid thinking about as long as its daylight. Some fears haunt me no matter whether the sky is illuminated in light or highlights its reflection.

Why was I able to save him and not her? Why did Sam decide to push me out of the way instead of shooting that vampire before it could kill Morgan Walsh last month? Why didn't I tell Dean before they left for that hunt that one time that I was sorry for the way I talk to him sometimes and I love him? Why did I make that mistake on the field but not in training?

The what ifs and the whys... these are the products of my insomnia. Or maybe they're its components. Regardless, they are invading my mind now as if they fear they will never again have the opportunity. But if that's what they think, they're fools. I never sleep well. Any mistake that doesn't have a chance to ravage my mind before I fall asleep in the early hours of the morning will get its second in the spotlight tomorrow.

I consider a particularly troubling idea about myself, lying flat on my back in my own bed in the bunker. The lights are off, and I recall a phantom pain in my stomach that has me standing and slapping the light switch. I've made too much noise in the process, but at least there's now a warm light bathing my bedroom. It chases away the darkness, and I breathe deeply. This is my space.

Except that even as I sit on the edge of my bed in my space, I feel like there are roaches crawling inside of my stomach, eating the best parts of me while I cringe at what's left. What's mine is not mine so long as I have surrendered to myself.

I stand, but there's nowhere to go. Sam will be in the library still, though it's after one in the morning. He can't seem to put his mind to anything other than research these days. I don't want to see him, because if I do then he'll ask what I'm still doing up and I'll have to say "Can't sleep," as if it doesn't bother me. I sit again, but it feels like a vulnerable position, feels small. So I stand again. But again, I find that there's nowhere to go.

Can something so pitiful be considered a vicious cycle? If so, I'm in one. Where would Dean be now, I wonder and pretend I'm not doing it as a means of distracting myself. He's probably sleeping by now. He likes to try to be in bed by midnight. Actually, he usually tries to force the same on me and Sam. Sam doesn't listen, adult that he is. I don't have much of a choice.

But tonight I could get away with venturing outside of my room at 1:30am because I'm dealing with a bout of insomnia. This happens fairly often, and usually they notice after a night or two of my sorry ass getting two hours of sleep. I get cranky, I guess, but can you blame me? Two hours is not enough sleep for a teenager. Besides all that, Dean is sleeping. What he doesn't know can't kill him.