Title: Don't be scared, Dean
Author: nerwende90
Summary: Four words Dean's come to hate. Character death, evil!Sam, spoilers for IMTOD. ONESHOT
Disclaimer: I think it's safe to say I don't own them and never will.
Author's note: Just an idea that came to me while watching the end of IMTOD. John's last line made me think of this. Hope you'll like and review!
Don't be scared, Dean
« Mommy ! » four year old Dean cried in his bed. From the other side of the wall he could hear hasty footsteps coming towards his door. Soon the door opened and a hand reached out and turned the light on.
"What's the matter, sweetie?" Mary asked softly as she came to sit on Dean's bed.
"Nightmare." The little boy sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with his pajama sleeve. Mary ran a soothing hand through his hair and smiled.
"Mommy's here, now." She said, "The bad guys are gone." Dean looked at her worriedly for a second, as if he thought he was still dreaming. Mary smiled at him, feeling bad when she saw of hard he was shaking. "What did you dream about, honey?"
Dean swallowed hard, the memory of his nightmare still vivid in his memory. It had scared him to death, but now he was feeling mostly embarrassed by it. "Don't remember." He lied, looking down at his small hands.
Mary reached out and gently tilted Dean's head back up so he was looking at her. "Come on, Dean." she said, "You know you can tell me everything."
After a long silence, only interrupted by Mary's soothing words, Dean finally spoke. "You were gone." He said.
If it surprised her, Mary didn't show it. "What do you mean?" she asked calmly.
"You were gone." Dean repeated, tears filling his big hazel eyes. "I woke up in a place I didn't know, and Daddy was there, and Sammy too, but when I asked for you, Daddy said you were gone." His voice trailed off as he let his tears run freely on his cheeks. "He said you were gone like grandpa and grandma, and that you weren't coming back."
Mary hugged her son as he started sobbing uncontrollably. "Shh, it's okay." She half whispered. Well, that was a first. Dean had had nightmares before, but they were more among the lines of 'a giant lizard tried to swallow me' or 'I was chased by a giant pink teddy bear'.
Dean buried his face in his mother's shoulder, taking in her scent. "I don't want you to leave." He choked out, and Mary could swear she'd felt her heart break.
"Honey" she said, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes, "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'll always be with you."
"But…"
"Shh" she said again, putting a finger to Dean's lips. "I promise I'm not leaving you, Dean."She kissed her son on his forehead. "You have nothing to be scared of. You know that angels are watching over you."
Dean sniffled and nodded. "I was so scared…" he said, his voice still shaky.
But Mary smiled at him and kissed him again, this time on his cheek. "Don't be scared, Dean."
"Sammy, you coming or what?" twenty-four year old Dean called. That was met by an annoyed huff, and his brother appeared in the doorframe.
"It's Sam." He said, which would have made Dean laugh if it weren't for the tension between his father and brother. Those two always had issues, but these days had been particularly hard. And after today's argument – what was it about again? Dean couldn't even remember – the quietness was like a house of cards. Dean barely dared to take a breath, afraid it would fall apart.
"Whatever." He said, waving vaguely at the table to tell his brother to sit down. Sam walked slowly to the table, dragged a chair a few inches away and unceremoniously dropped on it. Dean rolled his eyes. He loved his brother, but Sam sure knew how to make himself infuriating. Dean shook his head and decided to act like nothing ever happened. "Dad! Bobby!" he called as he put the pasta he'd just cooked in four different plates, enjoying the delicious smell as he did so. Bobby had offered to order takeout, but Dean had insisted he could make dinner himself. Whatever helped him focus on anything but the fight was good to take.
Two sets of heavy footsteps came into the room, and Dean could almost see the glares that were exchanged behind his back. He braced himself and put the dinner on the table, acting as casual as he could. "Smells good." Bobby commented, and Dean smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood. His father grumbled and Dean decided to take it as an agreement.
"Yeah" Sam snorted, "Cause Dean's the only one here that can do something right." Dean kicked Sam under the table, and his brother glared at him. Sam was about to say something when a metallic sound resounded. John had dropped his fork and he slammed his fist on the table.
"Samuel, that's enough!" he barked as he stood up, a look of pure anger in his eyes. Sam glared back and stood up too.
"Yes, that's exactly what I was gonna say!"
"Guys!" Dean almost jumped on his feet, trying to keep his family from tearing each other apart.
But Sam wouldn't have it. "Let me guess, you think Dad was right this morning?" he barked.
"I don't even…" Dean started, but John interrupted him.
"You leave your brother out of this!" the eldest Winchester yelled. "I've had it up to here with that attitude of yours, Sam!"
"Well don't worry, you won't have to wait long now before I'm out of your life!" Sam said, storming out of the room. John stood there for a moment, then grumbled something that sounded like 'need fresh air' and got out too.
With his family gone, Dean sighed and sat back in his chair, burying his face in his hands. He could already feel a headache coming. "You okay, kiddo?" Bobby asked, and Dean smirked behind the mask his hands made. Peachy.
"I'm scared Bobby." He confessed, letting his hands fall on his lap.
"Scared of what?"
"Losing Sam." Dean took a deep breath, knowing he sounded like a child, but not really caring. "He's always saying he's gonna leave, and I'm scared that he might do it for real one day."
Bobby smiled sadly. "Your brother won't leave." He said, but that didn't sound as certain as he wanted it to. "What would Sammy do without you?"
Dean shrugged. He glanced at the table and smiled a little. "So much for my great dinner." He said. Bobby smiled and proceeded to put the plates in the fridge.
Dean sighed and got up, intending to go to talk to his brother. Bobby's voice made him stop in the doorframe.
"You're brother's not going anywhere." He said, hoping he was right. "Don't be scared, Dean."
Lying in his hospital bed, Dean felt like he'd just walked out of hell. Sure he felt good, but something was wrong, and he could feel it. Don't get me wrong, he was glad he was back among the living, but something about the way he'd come back wasn't right.
He looked at his father, who was probably the biggest giveaway. He was standing there, looking relieved, but so sad and so… scared? He was clearly nervous. As soon as Sam was out of the room, Dean decided it was time for John to talk.
"What is it?" he called. At first John didn't move, and for a second Dean thought he hadn't heard him.
"You know," John started, "When you were a kid…I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen, I'd be…I'd be wrecked. And you'd…come up to me and you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye, and you'd…"
The way his father's voice trailed off made Dean panic, but John looked at him and smiled as tears formed in his eyes. "You'd say, 'It's okay, Dad'… Dean, I'm so sorry…"
Dean frowned. "For what?"
"You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should've been saying that to you. You know, I put…I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once."
John was still smiling, even when a tear slid down his face. Dean was silent. What was he supposed to say? He'd heard his father scream or shout many times before, but never did he see him cry.
"I just want you to know…" John went on, "That I am so proud of you." And Dean could have cried here and now just to hear his Dad say those long needed words.
"Is this really you talking?" he asked, his voice shaking as he tried to keep the sobs in his chest, pain be damned.
John grinned through his tears. "Yeah. Yeah, it's really me."
"Why are you saying this stuff?" Dean asked, voicing the question that invaded his mind. He refused to think it sounded like his father's last words. No, Dad was fine. He wasn't going to die anytime soon.
John stepped closer and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I want you to watch out for Sammy. Okay?" he said, his every word screaming 'death wish'.
"Yeah Dad you know I will… You're scaring me."
John smiled at his first born again. "Don't be scared, Dean."
"Get out of my brother!" Dean hissed, fighting the invisible force that held him against the wall. For the second time in his life he was staring into Sam's pitch black eyes.
Sam's laughter echoed in the small room. "There's nothing inside me, Dean. This is me. Or maybe I should say this is what you let me become." He added, toying with the knife he had in his hands. And Dean didn't want to believe him, but deep down he knew it was true.
"You can't be Sam." He said anyway, "You just can't." Sam smiled and punched him hard in the face. Dean spat out the blood that had gathered in his mouth, trying to stop the spin the room was in.
"Why Dean, you hurt me." Sam laughed again. "Oops, looks like I'm the one doing the hurting. Don't you recognize your baby brother?"
Dean looked at him, hating the tears that started to form in his eyes. "No." he rasped out, "You're not him."
Sam rolled his eyes mockingly. "Dean, Dean, Dean. You're not helping here." He said. Stepping closer, Sam raised his knife and made it pierce the skin under Dean's right ear. Slowly, he ran it on the side of his brother's neck, enjoy the trail of blood and the hiss of pain it caused. "This is me, big brother. The same kid you took to school every morning and brought back home." He mockingly considered what he'd just said. "Or at least what we called a home. I guess I just… changed."
"No, that's not true." Dean said, not even caring about the tears that ran down his cheeks. "You can't be him. If you were, it would mean…" he trailed off, closing his eyes against the tears and the hurt.
"It would mean that you failed. Which you did." Sam spat out the last word as if it were poison. "You had plenty occasions to off me, to keep me from becoming that, but you never did. This is all your fault!"
A sob escaped Dean's throat. Sam was right. He'd let it happen. He'd sworn he'd protect his brother, but he failed. "I tried." He whispered. "I tried so hard. I just couldn't…"
"No!" Sam yelled, "you just wouldn't!"
"That's not true."
Sam snorted. "Right." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I should thank you, though. This power… this strength… you have no idea how good it feels." He laughed dryly, but Dean couldn't hear it. His mind was full of static. "Oh, Dean…" Sam said as he tilted Dean's head up. "Don't you worry. You'll soon be at rest. You fought well, little soldier." He mocked.
Sam's eyes turned green again and for a moment, Dean thought his brother was back. But Sam's grin was still as maniac, and he was still silently daring him to move. Dean swallowed, knowing it was the end. He looked into these hazel eyes he knew so well. "Sammy, I know you're in there… Just want you to know…" he chewed on his bottom lip to keep himself from sobbing. "I'm sorry Sam. I'm so sorry."
But green was soon replaced by black. Sam slowly raised his free hand. "Don't worry," he soothed, "this'll all be over soon." Dean closed his eyes, praying for all he was worth that at least Bobby could find a way to free Sam. The last thing he was ever aware of was Sam's sarcastic voice…
"Don't be scared, Dean."
The end.