“My head is going to freakin’ explode.”

It worked, just like Sam thought it would. Dean broke mid stride from his madness pacing and turned to look at him. He wasn’t sure how to react to the look on Dean’s face then. It was one of worry and fear and Sam thought it was funny because Dean doesn’t do fear ever; well Dean fears for a lot of things and worries over everything but he doesn’t normally let it show on his face, so when he did, it was kind of funny. But then another part of him thought it was not funny because Dean openly showing his fears (even though they were behind closed doors and there was only Sam for Dean to openly shows but then again Sam is the last person Dean would want to show his fears to...) means that Dean was really afraid, as opposed to just being afraid, and Dean being really afraid and worried was heartbreaking and because Sam knew Dean’s fears and worries were because of him, the little brother with the head that was about to explode, it kind of made Sam feel guilty.

“Oh no, no, you don’t,” Dean waved a finger in warning and Sam thought it was ridiculous because finger waving Dean had no power to stop a head from exploding just because he said so. “You’ve reached the maximum number of let’s give big brother a heart attack for the day Sammy, no more!”

Sam sometimes wondered if he and Dean were really related. He spent his entire life growing up with this man, hell, to quote Dean, ‘I’ve wiped that little ass of yours many times Sammy so if I said I’m going to shove this gun up your ass if you insist on us going to that organic restaurant rather than having cheese fries, I will!’ But despite all these, they were two very different individuals. Both stubborn at times, sure, but Sam was going to point that trait to their father, because God, John Winchester was the stubbornness man he’d known ever.

“Sam, I’m serious.”

Sam smirked and held himself back from rolling his eyes. “My head’s going to explode if you don’t stop pacing but I see that won’t be a problem anymore since you've stopped.”

Dean literally let out a huge sigh, his shoulders sagged, guards down (not all the way though, because Dean never let his guards down, even in sleep, unless he was drugged, badly beaten after a hunt, dying and of course, in a coma; except for that one time when he was in a coma but was still running around the hospital trying to catch the reaper, he didn’t get any rest on that one, which is so unfair for a comatose person because at least Sam got to walk around and drink coffee) and eyes never leaving Sam.

“I meant what I said back there Sam, we should move,” Dean said as he nodded his head, as if agreeing to himself and made his way to the duffle bag on his bed. “Bust this Popsicle stand and find that couple in your vision from this morning.”

“We still have time Dean,” Sam replied, shifting on his bed to look at his brother, who had begun to pack his stuff, which means he was dumping everything that belonged to him into the bag carelessly. “Besides, I think you managed to scare the crap out of Nick with your outburst just now. At least stay for the night and let me talk to him tomorrow morning before we leave okay?”

Dean grimaced and started pacing again, a sorry excuse for a t-shirt still balled in his fist. Sam decided they needed to shop for new clothes on their next stop but figured this wasn’t the right time to voice that out. Dean hates shopping as much as he hates Snuggles. Sam often wondered what had that poor fabric softener teddy bear ever did to him other than being it’s normal, creepy self. Dean had seen a lot of creepy stuff growing up, so why he had singled out Snuggles was beyond him.

“I know you’ve bonded well with this Nick guy okay, I understand that,” Dean said, cautiously. Sam figured Dean had learnt from previous experiences that Sam tend to be a little more defensive when it came to talks about children like him. “But I don’t think I can handle another day with those guys.”

This had Sam puzzled. He thought Nick had a group of really understanding friends. It made him wonder if his own set of friends back at Stanford would still be sticking around if he had told them about his visions, his other life, about being different, about the things that go bumping in the night. Nick had been truly blessed with these guys, even though he got the feeling that things weren’t so great with his own family, and that, that Sam had took pity in. Sure he had tons of verbal fights with Dad before and God knows what those long rides with Dean in the car stuck with Metallica on repeat could make them do to each other, but he had never doubt that his family had loved him (still love him) unconditionally.

“What do you mean? Other than the showdown just now, I don't see a problem here,” Sam asked, frowning. “And would you stop pacing? You’re really giving me a headache Dean.”

Dean stopped his pacing because Dean would do anything within his power to annoy little brother, but giving him headaches wasn’t one of them. Well, that’s not entirely true, Dean glee at the sight of Sam with a headache after being subjected to hours of listening to his cassette tapes collection; but this kind of headache, the one that often resulted in a very depressed, sickly Sam, kills Dean every single time.

“You don’t find them creepy at all?” Dean asked and Sam was mildly horrified when he realised Dean wasn’t joking around.

“What’s so creepy about them?” Sam asked. “If you mean finally hanging around with normal guys means creepy to you, then yeah, I guess they are.”

Dean looked shocked and Sam was shocked that Dean was shocked. Sure Dean couldn’t tell normal even if it hit him on the ass (because Dean will never let anything hit him on his face unless it’s that space between a woman’s pair of breasts) but Nick’s friends had been nothing but nice (come to think of it, Dean has issues with anyone who is nice, he always thought they have hidden agendas and that saddens Sam, a lot, because this family business, these hunting gigs, it left hardly any space for trust) so whatever it was that had Dean creep out was lost on Sam.

“Dude, the guy had friggin eyeliner! And it was eight in the morning!”

“So?”

“So? So, he’d woken up this morning, took a shower and friggin’ looked in the mirror and put on eyeliner!”

Oh Sam was loving this. Only Dean would creep out over a guy who wears eyeliner but didn’t even blink an eye while watching KISS in their clown make up and hanging out their red coloured tongue like some panting dog.

“And that black nail polish!” Dean continued in disgust and then shuddered for effect. “Sam, I bet he listens to those emo crap you called music!”

“Hey!” Sam protested, but Dean didn’t look like he cared much for Sam’s protests. He was still standing there, in the middle of the room, freaking out even worst than that one time when they had to investigate a poltergeist in a college dorm and the entire floor was having a party and the place was booming with techno music.

“Oh my God Sammy, I’m so glad Dad hauled ass before DCF caught up with us and give you away to some couple,” Dean ranted on. “Can you imagine twenty years down the road and a reunion with eyeliner and nail polished you? I might have to go Christo on your ass.”

“Dean.” Really, at this point, there wasn’t much Sam could say but Dean.

“Hmmm?” Dean replied mid-rant, eyebrows raised in question.

“What the fuck are you freaking out about?”

Dean sighed and Sam hoped his brother would let it go and just go to sleep already. Ranting Dean didn’t actually help with his headache, amused him sure, but headache was still there.

“I should have known this won’t creep you out,” Dean sighed, again. “This is you we’re talking about anyway.”

“Hey!” Dean still didn’t care what Sam had to say, or his protests.

“Okay, what about the other two then? The uh…Howie! Howie and Brian!”

“Dean, Howie’s a really nice guy and Brian’s like a mother hen to Nick, it actually reminds me of you.”

“Hey!” Now it was Dean’s turn to take offence and Sam, unlike Dean, actually gave room to entertain this protest. Okay, so Dean would still protest even if Sam had ignored him and continue to talk but it’s the thoughts that count and in this case, it does, because Sam chose not to continue but listened to his brother’s continued protest. “I’m not a mother hen!”

Sam snorted because deep down, he really was a geek (a hot geek) and geeks snort so he figured everything was okay, with snorting (as long as no coke is involved). “Whatever man.”

“Sam, I’m not a mother hen.”

“I said whatever.”

This was just too weird. Dean was freaking out over a group of nice guys and Sam was actually calm and collected. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? Sam always feels the need to have a talk when he wasn’t feeling a gig and Dean has always been the one who shrugs and wing it.

“Dude, the guy’s name is Howie, it even rhymes with creepy.”

Oh this takes the cake, Sam decided, so he laughed. “Dean that’s the worst excuse, ever.”

“Dude, he looks like Mr. Frodo and the blonde one is Samwise Gamgee, and, they come in real life size! I mean dude, I never thought it’d say this but I’m SO glad you’re taller than me, my neck is still cracking from having to look down every time I talk to them.”

Ok, Sam took it back. This, takes the cake.

“What the hell are you talking about Dean? Mr. Frodo? Samwise what now?”

Dean gave him that look again, the one that said ‘Sammy, am I talking Chinese?’ And this time Sam returned the look, the one that said ‘No, but you’re talking crazy’. This would result in Dean sighing in exasperation, again, and started waving his hands around to make the point.

“Lord of the Rings? Ring any bells?”

“Okay I know you didn’t read the books, which means you’ve watched the movie, but the question now is, when did you find the time to sit through a three hour long movie with the kind of life we’re leading?”

Dean looked offended but Sam just rolled his eyes. Sam never doubted that Dean had sat through three hours of Lord of the Rings (even with Dean’s short attention span) because this is the same man who claimed to be all action and less talk (wise ass comments and women related issue not withstanding) but still finds a talk show like Oprah and Dr. Phil intriguing (though he didn’t say that in many words, more like a slip of the tongue) but if they ever had three hours to themselves, it would be spent either researching for their gig or sleep and Sam would have remembered seeing Dean watching Lord of the Rings because they only share motel rooms like, every friggin’ time.

“It was on one of the channels in some motel room we were in,” Dean shrugged, eyes now looking anywhere but at Sam. “And I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” Not much to say to that. When Dean couldn’t sleep, it means Dean was worried or restless. Sam doesn’t like this side of Dean much because this Dean tend to close up and, dare he thought it, brood. Sure it might work on girls, brooding Dean for some reason, equates to oozing with sexiness, but on Sam, it was a nightmare. Brooding Dean means complete silence that stretches for days and wasn’t that just dandy when they were on the road with nothing to take the tension away?

“Dean?”

“Yeah.”

Smirked. “It’s nice that you respect Frodo and called him Mister.”

“Dude shut up.”

Small laugh. “Look, for whatever reason you’re creep out by these guys, we’re staying for tonight okay? He’s confused and probably scared man, and we’re not helping him much with talks of friggin demons. And I really want to let him know that he shouldn’t hate or fear the face he’s been seeing in his dreams. He needs to know that the real enemy doesn’t have a face, that he appeared as Dad is just wrong.”

Dean looked angry now and Sam wasn’t sure what the hell he had just said that had caused such anger. He didn’t think he had said anything wrong at all.

“Sam, this is not about me being creep out by those guys or about the fucking demon appearing in dreams with Dad’s face on.”

Sam was actually worried, because Dean wasn’t yelling at all. In fact he looked so down, so open, that it broke Sam’s heart. He wondered if he’d live to see the next day if Dean kept this up.

“You’ve had three visions ever since you met this guy Sammy. And this morning you had it in public and you almost passed out and look at you,” Dean pointed. “You look like death warmed over.”

Sam cringed. “Gee thanks.”

Dean sighed and slumped on the edge of his bed, looking at Sam and Sam noticed, for the first time really noticed, those worry lines carved on Dean’s forehead, the hint of crow feet and those eyes, right now so bare and telling, eyes of a young man who had seen too many and bear too much. The Dean now looking at Sam looked so much older than his age and it killed Sam again, because he knew if he looked at himself in the mirror he'd see the same thing too.

“I’m worried for you Sammy.”

Sam appreciated this. Whenever Dean surprised him with his sudden show of affection, of times when Dean allowed him in, to see this other side of big brother, Sam found himself thankful. Sometimes Dean needed to know that little brother can be responsible for older brother, that little brother can take care of big brother just like big brother does it.

Sam also realised, despite everything that were so different between them, that they were so much alike. If they were to peel at the layers found in each of them, everyone else would see that Dean and Sam are the product of each others’ influence. And the traits that they didn’t quite like, they’d point the blame to Dad, because hey, after all, Dad raised them both. Okay, so maybe Sam would credit Dad for his good looks, but he’d remind Dean every chance he gets that Dean’s Scully (even if Sam has Scully’s hair), because everyone said Dean has their mother’s eyes so he’s pretty rather than handsome.

Also now, Sam wasn’t sure if he should assure Dean that there was nothing to worry about or if he should come out with something funny to break this sudden tension in the room.

“Dean, I’m-” and then realised he would only panic Dean more if he said ‘fine’ and said instead, “It’s nice to know you’re worried for me, I really do. But we don’t even know where this vision of mine took place, man. I saw the interior of a house and the date on the calendar I saw isn’t for another three days so we have the time, and we can work with that, do our homework before we get out of here okay? These visions, you know I can’t control them, if it’s coming, it’s coming, and besides, I think you’d feel better if I have them while we’re still here rather than in the car because dude, the last one I had? Almost made me puke all over the place.”

Dean grimaced and Sam knew he had gotten through his brother, convinced him to stay. But just as an added insurance, he gave him the ‘I’m your little brother who has never known a mother’s love so take pity on me and grand me my one wish please?’ look.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair and looked torn, but Sam knew if they stayed another day, things would work out for them. Finally, Dean looked up and said, “Just one more day okay? And then we’re out of here.”

Sam smiled because he really didn’t want to say something wrong and made Dean changed his mind.

“Go to bed, man, and take your pills.”

When the lights went off, when Sam had swallowed two Tylenols and warmly tucked under the blanket and knew that Dean had settled down on his own bed, Sam called Dean’s name.

“What now?” Dean mumbled.

“You’re kinda like a hobbit too you know, I mean I have to look down every time I talk to you and that’s a hell lot of time.”

Silence. Sam thought his lip was going to bleed from biting on it for too long, because laughing might set Dean off and Sam knew without a doubt that Dean might just haul both their asses into the Impala and leave right there and then.

“Sam?”

Sam grimaced. “Yeah?”

“Go paint your nails and cry.”

And that was it. Sam cracked up like he had never cracked up before and it shook the entire bed and Dean had to mutter ‘Christo’ under his breath just to be sure and then Dean smiled and it was still dark but Sam knew Dean smiled because Sam knew Dean and so when Dean said ‘Goodnight bitch’ Sam choked out a ‘Goodnight jerk’ in between his laughter and then smiled at Dean’s silhouette and closed his eyes, knowing it was safe to do so, and welcomed sleep with open arms (not literally).

A/n: I cant even begin to imagine what it'd be like when Dean finds out they're the Backstreet Boys, which i guess is a bad thing because I'm the one who's supposed to write it.