Dean held the whimpering Sam, his baby brother fitting perfectly into the 4 year old's arm, like he was made for holding him. He remembered what happened only a few short weeks before, and cradled the warm little bundle even closer.
Since their mom was stolen from them the night of the fire, Sam had trouble falling asleep at night, wailing at the top of his lungs at all hours of the night. But his dad wouldn't know any of this as he would disappear for many hours at a time, saying he was 'going out' and would be back soon.
So that was how Dean was left holding his sniffling little brother in his arms. He'd tried everything his mom used to do. He'd hum whatever bits of his mom's lullaby he could remember, which he would later learn was 'Hey Jude'. As he rocked Sam in his arms, he coo-ed to him quietly,
"Angels are watching over you, Sammy.'
"Mommy's watching over you, Sammy."
Buts still Sam would refuse to sleep, and after a few minutes of racking his mind for a solution, he finally whispered,
"Go to sleep, Sammy. I'll watch over you."
Repeating himself over and over again like a broken tape record, Sam finally fell asleep to the sound of his brother's voice.
SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSP NSPN
There was too much blood.
They both knew it.
The end was near, and this time, it was final. It was no surprise of course. Winchester's had never been blessed with long lives or painless deaths. It was slow, it was agonizing, and it always involved the sons-of-bitches they hunted.
Sam could feel the darkness creeping up on him, beckoning him to a painless haven. Through his blinding pain, he could feel a normally steady hand trembling slightly as it pressed down on the wound on his chest that continued to pour out blood at an alarming rate. Breathing became harder with every breath, each intake shorter than the last, each exhale longer than the previous.
He could hear their heavy footsteps, their sniggering at their demise. Their black eyes bore into the brothers huddled in the corner, their intention of ridding the Winchesters soon to be accomplished.
He was slipping off the edge of life, and it wasn't long now. He wanted to be free from this world of pain, but he didn't want to leave Dean alone and let him die at the hands of these monsters. He weakly grasped Dean's shirt, willing himself to stay awake. If they couldn't escape this together, then they would die together.
As the demons approached, cornering the brothers where they had no hope of escape, Dean turned to look at Sam. His eyes were shining bright with pooling tears, his expression an image of grief and fear. However, with a calmness and confidence that only Dean could muster in such hopeless situations, he said to Sam,
"Go to sleep, Sammy. I'll watch over you."
And just as Sam was about to slip under, he heard a hoarse whisper follow him into the darkness,
"I'll be there when you wake up,"