Disclaimer: Though I pray every night that Eric Kripke bequeaths to me Supernatural, it be a little weird for him to will something to someone he doesn't know. Bottom line, they're not mine.
A/N: Just a little insight to Dean after 3.01. I mean, who doesn't like a little angst?
It would have been a perfect day, should have been a perfect day, thought Dean Winchester. The sun was shining, the sky was crystal clear, it was warm with an autumn breeze blowing.
But there was a black cloud over his head.
After the close call with his own death, and figuring out his father had traded his soul and his own life for his eldest son, Dean was pretty much miserable.
The guilt, Jesus Christ, the guilt he felt, it was almost too much, probably would have been for anybody else. But he was Dean Winchester, and he had something more important than his own life to worry about.
He had a little brother to look out for. And sure, Sam was technically an adult, and let's face it, more mature than his older brother most of the time, but he would always be Dean's responsibility.
He never thought of it that way, not really. He always said it was his job to look out for Sam, but it was more than that. Sam was all the family he had left now, and he'd keep him with him as long as he could.
Even trading his own soul to bring his brother back from the dead.
That day was etched so clearly in Dean's memory, he wished he could simply drink it away. Unfortunately, he couldn't, and so he'd always remember the pain of thinking he'd lost his brother forever. Lost his brother, his father, his mother, his very life.
Because that's what Dean did. He lived for other people. He had no thoughts of his own life, his own happiness. If his family was happy, then he was happy.
And if his family wasn't happy, well, Dean would do anything in the world to change that.
And right now, glancing at his brother still sleeping in the motel room, Dean knew he had to put on his typical smart-ass attitude, and cheer Sam up.
Their relationship had been somewhat strained since Cold Oak and the Devil's Gate activities. Sam couldn't seem to grasp the fact that Dean had done what he had because he'd simply seen no other option. Sam was the good son, the good person. The world needed a person like Sam.
The world certainly didn't need a Dean Winchester, a rakish, mouthy badass. The world would get along fine without him in a year's time.
He just hoped Sam would.
Sighing, staring up at the clear morning sky, Dean let his shoulders slump, let the weight he carried drag him down a little. It was tougher than it looked, putting on a brave face and a smirk, but he did it for Sam.
Hell, everything he did was for Sam.
Dean had always been aware of his own mortality. It was hard to be in their line of work and not be aware of it. When he'd electrocuted himself and the doctor only gave him weeks to live, he'd made his peace with the world.
The world had given him a second chance, then a third.
He grimaced. He wasn't freakin' worth it. He wasn't worth it the first time, and he still wasn't worth it. But Sam, God damn it, Sam was worth it.
His brother was caring, smart, a genuinely good guy. And then that damn yellow-eyed son of a bitch tried to make it seem like wasn't really his brother.
Well the hell with that. Dean knew Sammy better than anyone, and he knew it was his brother, all his brother.
And right now, his brother was worried about him. Worried, and mad, and flat-out determined to find a way to break this deal. He couldn't let that happen, could he? If Sam tried to break the deal, and Dean didn't really know about it, only suspected it, would that count against him? He didn't really know.
What he did know was that it'd be a long year if he and his brother were at odds with each other. And he certainly didn't want to spend the last year of his life fighting with the one person who made his life worth living. He knew Sammy could see right through him, knew he wasn't fooled for a second. But dammit, it was all he had. He had to pretend he was fine, that he wasn't afraid of what would happen after his death.
The fact was, he was scared. He was scared of what Sam would do when it was time for the demon to claim him. He was scared of what he, himself, might do when it was time. Could he calmly accept his fate? Would he try to fight anyway, even knowing it was useless, that the bargain was sealed with a kiss, a kiss that could never be undone? He didn't know. And that scared him more than anything.
He heard Sam stirring. It was time to wake up, begin a new day, a new hunt. Go on as they'd been going. Maybe today Dean would be less of a smart-ass, less of a child. Maybe today he would let Sam see that he was as bothered by everything that had happened as Sam was. Maybe today, he could actually face what was coming, and let his brother know that even though he'd been selfish to bring him back, that he'd acted rashly and against everything he stood for, that he understood what was Sam was feeling. Understood, because he'd felt it, too.
He turned to face his brother.
Then again, there was always tomorrow.