A/N: Basically an aimless ramble about Dean to fulfill this tugging urge in my heart to write something. My first (and completely futile) attempt at showing what a nice guy Dean is. My shortest but first fanfiction to be completed! (:
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my pile of undone homework... And I'm still doubting whether they can be considered mine.
Watching his house go up in flames -which, for no reason, seemed to be leaping in joy while devouring his mother-, four-year-old Dean couldn't help but stand close to the door and watch in fascination -the lamenting of his mother's death would come later. He suddenly felt a pair of arms lift him swiftly from the ground and carry him and Sammy over to the car. He looked up at his father's face and saw the rage in his eyes.
"What the hell were you standing so close to the fire for? You could have gotten yourself and -worse still- Sammy killed! He's your baby brother, he could have died just like that!" Realisation dawned on him and Dean looked down at the baby in his arms, and silently made a promise in his heart to never leave Sam so vulnerable to danger.
..."I'm sorry," 9-year-old Dean apologised to his father, the promise made 5 years ago broken. His heart filled with remorse, having disobeyed his father's orders to always keep a close watch on Sammy, and having his disobedience rewarded with his brother's near death. There was something about John's eyes too, for awhile after the Shtriga's attempted murder -if it could even be considered murder- of his brother, something... Dean couldn't really figure it out. He thought he saw anger, mistrust, and perhaps sadness, it was too much for the 9-year-old to comprehend.
That night, Dean crept over to Sam's bed and renewed his promise in his heart. "I'll keep you safe, Sammy. As safe as possible. Always."
"Sammy? Sam? SAM!" Dean yelled hysterically, desperate for a single glimmer of life and hope in Sam's eyes, but no matter how hard he look, they were blank, devoid of life. But what Dean was ashamed to admit was somewhere deep inside, he felt the tiniest spark of relief that Sam had at least died good, and had not become a demon.
He had promised Sam that he would keep him safe. And yet Sam had died before him, in his arms, despite his frantic pleas for Sam to stay alive. Dean felt so useless. The first promise he had made to Sam was also the first promise he ever broke. And he had just broken it again. Cursing himself, he stayed with Sam, holding on tightly to him, till Bobby came back looking for them. And even then Bobby had had to pull him away from Sam so he could carry the body –no, not body, Sam, Dean thought.-back to the car.
"Keep fighting…" Dean made sure he gave the words enough impact to make them stay in Sam's memory. One hour before his death, and Dean wasn't going to forget his first promise. He'd broken the promise again, but Dean knew this was the one time he was satisfied that he had broken the promise –Heart-wrenching, painful, yes – but satisfying. The same promise broken again to make up for the last time it was broken. Dean knew Sam was feeling regretful, hurt, perhaps angry even, but he was glad he had made the deal.
Keep fighting. I'll always watch you from hell, little brother, Dean thought.