All he had left to give
By
Ava Brett
Disclaimer
None of the characters mentioned in the story below, belong to me in any fashion.
Author note
So here it is… my first one shot story.
This had originally been a prologue of a bigger story but I kinda think it suits being a one off instead so here it is.
It's a bit angsty but it is set at the end of season two when Dean makes his deal to bring Sam back from the dead so it was always going to be a bit depressing. Its not wincest though, just normal brotherly love.
It's been interesting diving into Dean's mind during this time and trying to figure out what he was thinking…
Anyway I hope you enjoy it
Dean Winchester had always known deep down that he was going to die before his time. It had been the only thing which he has been sure of since he was four years old, watching in shock as his safe normal world imploded on itself in a ball of flames.
There had only ever been that and the fact that it was his responsibility and duty to keep his younger brother Sam safe from all harm which might try and find him.
It had gone without saying that Dean had expected to be the first out of him and Sam to die, anything other then that scenario would probably have broken him, shattering what little of self worth and belief he had managed to keep safe from the brutal regime of his youth. He was the one who was the most family orientated out of the Winchester clan, the only one whose mission in life seemed to be keeping them together and function as normally as three emotionally broken men could be.
He had taken responsibility for Sam's welfare from the minute his father had placed him in his arms with a look of barely concealed despair and horror and told him to run. After that it had been simple for him, he had a mission in life.
He had to protect Sam.
He kept him safe from their father when the older man had one too many glasses of whiskey, he kept their life hidden from the younger boy for as long as he physically could. He kept him safe, he bathed him, he fed him, and he read to him when he couldn't sleep. He made sure he gave Sam a routine which he knew the younger boy had craved. He dropped him off and picked him up from school each and every day even if he had been unwell or busy. He booked Sam any Doctor or dentist appointment he might have needed, all the while trying desperately to keep up with his own studies and needs.
Dean had been both a father and a mother to Sam even when he had been little more then a child him self.
He should have resented it, the loss of his own youth. He should have resented the heavy burdens placed on his young shoulders which had slowly begun to crush him but he could never seem to find either the right words or energy to do so. Instead he had remained quiet, rarely speaking to anyone other then Sam unless they directly addressed him just like his father had ordered him to. Dean had always been good at following orders.
The quietness had changed when he grew up and instead he had gone on the offensive, speaking to the person before they spoke to him so he could lead the conversations into areas which he felt safe and secure in. Speaking about the job was fine, speaking about Sam was fine, he could even deal with conversations about his Dad but anything which was about him was off bounds.
He sometimes wondered whether anyone had noticed that everything he spoke about was purposely shallow. He spoke of food and music. He spoke about TV shows he had managed to find time to watch. He even occasionally spoke about his job depending on who the conversation was with. He spoke of unimportant things, things which revealed nothing about him self. The only thing he showed was his loyalty and love for Sam but that had been something he couldn't hide even if he had been able to. Sam was his responsibility and he watched out for him possessively, determined that Sam at least would survive this world they had been thrust into by their father.
The day Sam had died in his arms had been the day that Dean had died as well. He was still walking and breathing but everything which had made him Dean Winchester who is was was now dead. His father was dead, his mother was dead and now Sam was dead. There was no reason why Dean should carry on living except he had known that there to be a way, a way in which he could still save Sam.
The answer had struck him like lightening as he sat crying over Sam's cold still body.
Dean had one thing left.
His soul, a soul which he knew any crossroad demon would desire.
He hadn't even hesitated finding the nearest crossroads and making his deal. The demon had only given him a year which he had accepted, hell he would have agreed even is she had given him only a week or a day, or even an hour. He'd give anything to have Sam up and moving again. Selling his soul and guarantying his place in hell didn't even seem like a sacrifice to him as long as his brother came back to him.
When he returned to the house and seen Sam alive his heart had slowly began beating again. He sucked in deep breathes feeling as though he was breathing for the first time since Sam had breathed his last.
Sam was back. He hadn't failed him.
He came to one decision as he pulled his brother into a rare hug, eyes closing when Sam had wrapped his own arms around him.
Dean would live each day as though it was his last, building memories which he hoped would stay with him through his growing agony.
Memories for Sam to keep when he was gone.
It was the only thing he had left to give.
Author Note
Thanks for reading!