AN: This was actually a story for my religion class. We had to write a 'good Samaritan story' so uh... I ended up writing fanfiction. What a surprise. Any, it's an AU, where everyone just lives normal lives, but Dean and Sam's mom is still dead and such. They're also children in this, because it was the only time you'd really see Dean get so sad, he wouldn't ever cry if he was in his teen years lol
This is my first time writing Supernatural fanfiction so uh, I'm sure that there will be many accuracies and such .
Enjoy if you can?
"You broke it," Dean's eyes are close to tears. This is ridiculous. He's almost eleven years old. He was the older brother. He's not supposed to cry in front of his brother Sam, who was only seven and never seemed cry at all. Dean is supposed to look strong in front of his younger brother. But when it's his younger brother causing the problem in the first place, it's always difficult for Dean to keep his emotions in check.
The model airplane had not been new, but it had not been useless or unwanted either. Dean had only let Sam play with it for about ten seconds before there had been a strange crinkling noise and suddenly; a broken airplane. Dean's hazel eyes reflect betrayal, "You... You broke my airplane... Why do you always have to mess things up?" Accusing eyes now, betrayal pushed away
Sam's chocolate brown eyes only have guilt laying in them, but that doesn't matter to Dean now. He's too upset, too angry to notice. All Dean sees in Sam right now is an annoying and clumsy child who can't even properly tie his own shoelaces, let alone handle a model airplane. "D-Dean, I'm-" Sam appears to choke back a sob; he seems so upset that he's disappointed his older brother. Dean still doesn't notice though.
"Ugh, I can't believe you would ruin this!" Dean shakes the multiple pieces in front of Sam's quivering face. "Don't you know that you you're not allowed to break other people's things?" Sam looks angry now.
"Oh yeah?" Sam's wavy brown hair swishes slightly (he needs to get it cut, Dean thinks) "Why'd you let me use it in the first place then?" He shoves Dean. Hard.
Dean falls back, not due to a sudden burst in strength by Sam (Dean had beaten Sam forty-one consecutive times arm-wrestling him after all) but because Sam had never acted like this before. And that's when the tears appear.
Dean falls down, skidding on the pavement slightly. The sounds from the park behind him are roaring and pounding in his ears suddenly, and his face grows hot with embarrassment. The tears are leaking out of his eyes now as he looks up at Sam, who turns and runs away.
Fine, Dean thinks scathingly. Just run away. Just leave me here. Alone.
Dean is sitting on the sidewalk now, watching Sam run away as hot tears leak down his face. He wants to run after the fading figure of his brother, make him apologize for breaking his things, for shoving him down, for making him embarrassed. But he just sits there are cries.
That's when Dean notices his elbow is hurting. He lifts it off the ground and notices the hot and sticky blood coming out of a gash that he received from the fall. This isn't fair, he thinks, sniffling to himself. Why did Sam have to ruin things?
That's when someone walks by. Maybe they can help him? The blood is falling out faster now due to there being no pressure on the wound anymore, and Dean is starting to panic now. Face still wet with tears, he gets up to ask the stranger, but one quick look from the man to Dean's pathetic face, and he's gone.
Dean starts sniffling again. He hates himself for doing so, but he can't help it. He can't man up right now, as his dad would normally tell him to do. He's all alone and scared and bleeding and he just doesn't know what to do.
Dean wishes to himself that he hadn't fought with Sam now. Sam was all alone, without Dean's normal protection. Dean finds himself rubbing tears off his face now as he cries a bit harder now, forgetting for a moment that his arm has been cut.
Another person walks by, and Dean leans forward quickly to ask for their help to fix his arm and to find his brother, but they don't even notice the small brown-haired boy.
His elbow is stinging quite a bit now. Dean holds onto it, trying slop more blood falling out of his arm. He's still crying, though not as hard now. He seemed to be running out of tears. He sat himself back down on the pavement. That's it. No one is going to help him. He's doomed to bleed to death on the sidewalk, while his younger brother would probably find his death somehow.
Dean finds himself praying. This was not a normal occurrence. He usually never asked for help from above. He was the older sibling after all. He didn't need anyone's help.
But as the hot tears continue to roll down his face as he clutches his elbow, Dean doesn't really care much about his humiliation right now. So he prays. He prayed for an angel to help him. It felt rather ridiculous but Dean has lost all hope in anyone passing by to help him.
The wind picks up suddenly, causing Dean to pull himself into a ball, stuffing his face in between his knees and cry into his pants instead of onto the pavement.
"Are you okay?" it's a boy's voice, Dean can tell. He lifts his head up to the curious brown eyes of a boy around his age, wearing a topcoat slightly too big for him, and a ridiculous large blue tie. The boy is couching down in front of Dean with his hand held out to him. "My name is Castiel. What's yours?"
Dean looks away, wiping the tears off of his face. "D-Dean," he's still sniffling. "Are you sure your name's Castiel?"
Castiel blinks, looking surprised. "Why?"
"It's just a weird sounding name, Castiel." Dean lets the name roll of his tongue. He likes the foreign sound of it. He's stopped crying now.
Castiel is still holding out his hand. "Do you need help? Are you hurt?" he cocks his head, glancing at the large cut on Dean's elbow with concern.
Dean nods, taking Castiel's hand. Castiel helps Dean up, then takes Dean's elbow, frowning. "Looks like you just scrapped it..." the strange boy reaches into his coat and pulls out multiple band aids, and begins applying them to Dean.
"...Why do you have a bunch of those on you right now?" Dean is wide eyed now, as Castiel applies the last band-aid to him.
Castiel shrugs. "I like to be prepared. And this coat can hold a lot of things."
Dean nods. "Uh, okay... Thanks." He's unsure of what to say now. Thank you's were never really his strong-point.
Castiel nods. "It's no problem," the boy speaks much more maturely than Dean, he notices. He wonders where the boy could've been brought up to have such speech patterns. "Do you need anything else?"
"Erm..." Dean thinks of Sam. "I don't know..."
"Were you with anyone? Where are they?"
Can Castiel read minds? "I was with my brother, Sam. He ran off though..." Dean hangs his head in shame. He shouldn't have lost his brother. He shouldn't have ever fought with him in the first place.
"I believe you will find him back at your house." Castiel seems very sure of himself. "He probably wouldn't know where else to go."
"...I" Dean frowns, wondering how Castiel would know something like this, but disregards it."Okay, Thanks." And unsure of what else to do, he hugs Castiel.
Surprisingly, the boy hugs back. "You're welcome, Dean." Dean is pretty sure that Castiel is smiling, but by the time the hug breaks, the boy has his usual stoic face on.
Dean looks back at his elbow and notices the bleeding has entirely cleared up. Which is... Odd. Dean looks down and notices that his airplane has been put back together again as well. All the scratches from before as well have disappeared. The wind is picking up again, and as dust flies around Dean has to close his eyes tight. And as he opens the, Castiel is gone.
Dean doubts that Sam will believe any of this. And he doesn't. No one in Dean's family believes his story of the strange boy (Was he really a boy though? Dean wonders) but Dean thinks that's okay, as he plays with his model airplane and younger brother. Things are fixe now. And that's what matters.
