Most nights Sam managed to doze off for a little while, his eyes just becoming too heavy. Once he realized that he had allowed himself to drift off, his eyes would flutter open again in a sleepy haze, trying to focus on his alarm clock. The red numbers would be blurry, morphing into two dark eyes. Before Sam would be able to make any sense of them he would jerk fully awake with a gasp, eyes snapping wide open and blinking furiously to change the eyes back into numbers. Then he would sit there, in the dark, his shaky, panting breath filling the small room as he massaged his thumb into the scar on his left palm

Sam didn’t really remember when all of this started. The last few days had been a blur. It would have been weeks, maybe months. He wasn’t sure anymore. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. For all he knew, he could be dreaming all of this.

It was surprising, really, that Dean hadn’t said anything yet. Sure, Sam was quiet but not quieter than usual. And considering that they usually tried to catch up on alone time in the bunker - after having spent days on end filling up each other’s personal space - they didn’t really have much to talk about anyway.

Sam lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what the time was, but once he heard Dean’s heavy footsteps approaching his room, he knew it had to be morning by now. Sam closed his eyes with a sigh, hoping he wouldn’t just barge in on him. Luckily he didn’t.

“Yo, Sammy, I’m making pancakes. How many do you want?”

Sam inhaled sharply, his lips already parting, ready to reply, but nothing came out. He couldn’t. He didn’t deserve pancakes. Not with his mom and Jack still out there, suffering. The inhaled breath left his lungs again and he rolled over, back towards the door as he mushed his face back into his pillow.

After some time, Sam heard Dean moving around the bunker again. His brother’s boots climbed up the metal steps and shortly after the heavy bunker door fell shut. Sam let out a long breath as if he had been breathing as quietly as possible for the last couple of hours. He sat up slowly, running his hands through his hair. With another heavy sigh, Sam climbed out of the bed, heading to the kitchen. Maybe some coffee would make him feel better.

He trudged down the hallway and into the kitchen, where a plate with a small stack of pancakes was left for him on the table. Sam pretended he didn’t see it and went straight over to the coffee maker, pouring himself Dean’s leftovers into a cup. He sat down in front of the plate, gazing down at it as if it could hold the answers to all his problems. Finally, he pushed it to the other side of the table, deeming it useless. “What am I doing?” he asked himself, running a hand over his face roughly before resting his head on it tiredly. His other hand fumbled with the rim of the cup absentmindedly.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to rise from his slumber,” Dean said roughly, dropping the bag of groceries on the counter with no regard. Sam jerked awake again, his heart pounding against his chest. How long had he been sleeping? An hour? Two? Three? The cup in his hand was now cold, the plate of pancaked still untouched.

“W-What?” Sam asked, still disoriented.

“Look, I know your hair is like some sacred relic or something but even that much beauty rest can’t save it anymore.”

“Funny,” Sam muttered, looking down into the cup.

“Alright, what is going on?”  Dean asked with a slightly exaggerated sigh as he started storing away the beer and food.

“Nothing.” Sam’s brows knitted together as the frustration and helplessness boiled up inside him again.

Dean rolled his eyes, resulting in him rolling his whole head as he turned back to face his brother. “Sam,” he started. “I know for a fact that you have been wandering around the bunker at godless hours, and also that you ignored me on purpose this morning. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can talk to me, cause I know you wouldn’t be making such a big deal if it weren’t.”

Sam kept his gaze glued to the black mess in his cup, wishing it would suck him in. His chest tightened and throat fluttered as he took a ragged breath. “What’s the point?” he got out.

It was so quiet, Dean would have been sure that Sam hadn’t said anything if it wasn’t for his moving lips. “What do you mean?”

“The point, Dean. Of all of this.” he met his brother’s gaze, his own watery eyes unfocused. “I-I mean, no matter what we do, it always ends up coming back twice as bad and biting us in the ass. And everyone is paying the price apart from us. Kaya is dead because we were too stupid to find that stupid rift. Jack, we have absolutely no leads on him. For all we know he is also dead. And mom, if she’s not dead at this point I’m sure she wishes she was.” His voice grew in anger with every word, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

Dean held his gaze, nodding slowly. “We’ll figure it out. You and me.” He said softly.

“No!” Sam stood suddenly, knocking his cup over. “You always say this, Dean. We’ll figure it out as long as it’s you and me. Yeah, well, it’s a load of bullshit and you know it. We don’t have any leads and everyone around us is dropping like flies.”

Dean approached his brother slowly. He understood his anger. He felt it himself. “Listen.” he grabbed Sam’s shoulder and squeezing it tightly. “You’re tired. You’re not thinking straight. Just try to get some sleep and we’ll take again when you had some rest.”

Sam shook his head and brushed Dean off. “You don’t get it,” he muttered as he turned away, shuffling into the library.

“No, I do.” Dean followed him. “I’m angry too. Kaya, she didn’t deserve what happened to her, I agree.”

Sam stopped in his tracks, letting his head hang slightly.

“And Jack, I’m so proud of how you handled him. He really admired you. His face when he looked at you…” Dean licked his bottom lip, glancing down as the memory came back to him. “You used to look at me like that.”

The younger Winchester dared to turn around slowly, looking up at Dean from underneath his messy fringe.

“But mom, she’s a badass. If there is any way for her to get back to us, she will kill anything that tries to stop her. Even if it’s Lucifer.” he tried to sound hopeful. It was the best he could muster. It was how he was able to fool himself every day.

However, Sam only shook his head in reply, his body tensing again. “What?” Dean asked.

“Lucifer will always have the upper hand, even flat on his back. All I can think about is what he is probably doing to her. It all… it keeps coming back. The cage and his-…” Sam cut himself off, his breathing jagged again. His nails harshly pressing into his palm.

Dean rushed over to his brother and grabbed him tightly. “Sam,” he whispered, grabbing his left hand. “He’s not here. It’s just you and me.” He unraveled the fist gently, looking up at his brother. “You hear me? I’m not going to let him near you again.”

Sam finally met Dean’s gaze, although unsurely. He nodded slowly, feeling a wave of security wash over him. “Okay.” he breathed, blinking away the last tears. Before he could fight it, Dean pulled him into a hug. A tight hug. And without having to think about it, his own arm wrapped around his brother.

They stood like that for a while, neither of them minding. By the time they eventually released each other, Sam looked utterly exhausted. The tears had washed most of his other feelings away and left him only with the tiredness.

“Alright, come on.” Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist and dragged him back to his room. “What are you doing?” Sam asked although he could pretty much guess the answer.

“I’m sticking you back into bed, and this time you will actually sleep and not just pretend to be sleeping to avoid talking to me. And I will not leave until you do.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He pointed to the bed. “Now get in.”

Sam obliged and sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard. “You don’t have to do that.” He said quietly.

“Oh, shush. I can do as I please. Now,” he patted the mattress. “Sleeping position.” Knowing his little brother inside out came with the knowledge of knowing his number one sleeping position: his stomach.

Sam huffed and maneuvered himself so he was comfortable, one arm stretched out underneath the pillow. “But Dean…” he started.

“No buts. Close your eyes.” Sam held his gaze, giving him his famous puppy dog eyes.

“Eyes. Shut.” Dean told him again, emphasizing each word with a jab to his side. Sam’s arm came down as let out a breathy chuckle.

“Oh, hello. So that’s still a thing?”

Sam peeked up at his brother with one eye. “No.”

“Then close your eyes.” With a sigh, Sam finally closed his eyes, letting the quiet fill the room.

“This is stupid.”

“Very well.” Dean pounced on his brother, taking him by surprise. He straddled the back of his thighs as his fingers found their way to his ribs. “Dean, nohohohoho!”

“Dean, yes.” Was all he replied. They squabbled, Dean always managing to keep one hand attached to his brother’s body. Sam’s tired body and laugh-induced mind made it hard to fight back.

“Pleahahahase.” He laughed, grabbing Dean’s forearm. “I’ll sleep.” Sam had managed to roll halfway onto his back, Dean still straddling his thighs.

“And you won’t complain about me being here.” Dean let Sam keep hold of his arm while his free hand massaged into his hip muscle, leaving the younger wordless. “I won’t!” he got out before his laughter took over again.

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” he chuckled and climbed off his brother, flopping down next to him, back against the headboard.

Sam kept his eyes closed as the rest of the laughter wore off, leaving him slightly sweaty and more tired. With a soft groan, he rolled back onto his stomach, resuming his prior position. It was quiet again, only their breath filling the silence.

Just as Dean thought Sam had actually fallen asleep, the other moved, turning his head to face his brother. “Dean?” he asked softly, keeping his eyes closed.

“Sammy,” he replied, looking down at his baby brother.

“Don’t go.”

1. on a scale of 1-10, how ticklish are they?

Bill sits at a seven to me

2. where is their most ticklish spot(s)?

I feel like his feet would be his ultimate weak spot that would render him tickle-helpless

3. which spots are they not ticklish?

The more "unusual" spots like forearms, shins, head, back etc - they'd just feel nice from a touch-intimacy standpoint

4. what is their laugh like?

Bright and carefree. He's so freely ready to have a good, chill time that, so long as it didn't come between him and his studies, his giggles and laughter come with no problem. He snorts when it gets super bad for him

5. do they enjoy tickling? if yes, is it a fun platonic/familial thing, or kinky thing to them, or can it be both depending on the circumstance?

He loves it! And both, depending on who it's with. I feel like Bill likes to use tickling as a way to break the tension between those he's bonding with, no matter the type

6. are they more often a lee or ler, generally?

He's generally more a ler - got that big bro energy - and it usually takes multiple people (or spells) (or asking nicely) for him to fall to being a lee.

7. who is someone in their life that they tickle often?

When they were younger, Charlie was in a perpetual state of giggles when Bill was around. All of his siblings regard him as a tickle monster when he gets in a particular mood.

Older, however, he can hardly keep his fingers from coaxing a smile from Fleur

8. who is someone in their life that they get tickled by often?

Fred and George were the first to truly challenge Bill for the tickle monster crown. It usually took both of them to take him down, but once they did, all nearby siblings came a'runnin

Fleur tickles him the most now, especially after he admitted to enjoying it in a more primal way.

9. does the word “tickle” or any variation of embarrass them?

Nah, he's genuinely too cool and oozing with self esteem for that to bother him.

10. are they embarrassed about their ticklishness, and do they try to deny/hide it?

Now this one is a thing! When in reference to himself being ticklish, he'll done a bit of a blush and try to redirect the accusation onto whoever dared to ask him.

11. would gentle tickling or rough tickling affect them more?

Rough tickles get him way way more

12. is there a specific spot that they enjoy being tickled, either exclusively or more than other spots? what is it?

Loves his back being tickled, it's just so nice and makes him feel safe and adored

13. is there a spot that they can’t stand to be tickled, either because it’s just too sensitive, or it’s uncomfortable/painful/etc? what is it?

I don't think so :)

14. would they ever purposefully bug a friend/partner/sibling into tickling them, and if so, how would they go about it?

More like him being a tickle monster definitely deserves some tickle ire from his victims that he's happy to receive if they can earn it

15. does teasing affect them?