"We were the lucky ones"
Dean was raised to believe that the lucky ones were the ones that died first.
He was taught to believe that in the world he lived in, death was the only true peace.
And he believed that. Until he was faced with death, not just the threat of death but the promise of it.
Dean realized that being lucky was leaving but where he was right then, wrapped around his brother's neck body. Being lucky was feeling Sam's breath against his skin. Feeling the amazing sensation of Sam just being there.
Dean buried his head in his brothers head and exhaled.
A moment later Sam gave a heavy breath and move slightly to look up at his brother.
"Are you alright?"
Dean nodded, "Fine."
Sam gave a wiry nod and laid his head back on Dean's chest. "I love you,"
Dean tightened his hold, "I know."
He was going to die in a year, going to burn for the rest of eternity, but he still considered himself the luckiest man alive. Death or no, he still had Sam.