Hiya peeps!
A new one! I thought I might have a play around with showing how Dean and Sam grew up together, I hope it goes okay!
Disclaimer: Not mine, never had been, never will be.
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Sam was five, and he watched his older brother Dean like a hawk. His big innocent eyes were always tracking the other's movements, and his lips twitched into a small smile every time his brother returned the glance.
It was his first day of school, and Sam's little heart beat irrationally fast as his father dropped him at the front gate, motioning for him to open the door and leave. His father had never offered kind words of advice or encouragement, and five year old Sam was left to try and work it out on his own.
Panicking, his little fingers curled around the door handle, and he held his breath.
Suddenly the door was pulled open for him, and Dean was there, the early morning light shining behind him as he held his hand out for his little brother. "Come on Sammy, you can't spend all day sitting in the car."
Dean pulled him out into the open and dragged him to his feet, and slinging an arm around his little brother, he led him inside. All Sam could do was look at him with big, thankful eyes, and feel the gentle, reassuring weight of his brother's arm wrapped around his shoulders.
When he was seven, Sam had his first nightmare. He woke screaming, visions of Dean torn to shreds flashing before his eyes as he writhed and shrieked, tearing at the sheets that seemed to wish to strangle him.
But his bed had dipped as a weight settled on it, and within seconds his slender frame was being enfolded by Dean's much larger one. His brother cooed in his ear, shushing him quietly as he dragged Sam into his lap, curling his long arms around him so that he was wrapped tightly in his brother's embrace.
He shook and quivered, wailing quietly into Dean's chest as he gripped his shirt tightly, but Dean simply rocked him gently, and tightened his hold slightly. "It's okay Sammy, I'm here now, I'm here..."
On Sam's tenth birthday, he was once again pulled from the car by his older brother, but this time Dean's eyes shone with wicked intent.
Dean was fourteen by then, and Sam could do nothing but marvel at the way his brother had changed. Slowly but surely, Dean was filling out. His arms had become more corded, thin but powerful muscles stretching along his limbs so that as he moved, Sam could see them coil beneath his skin. Dean's hair was thick and dark, and his green eyes were constantly shining with mischief as his agile mind thought up trick after trick to play on his little brother.
And yet, as torturous and wily as Dean could be, he was also gentle and caring when it came to Sam, and those rare moments or affection made everything seem worth it.
As their father sped off, Dean grinned down at Sam and said, "well, Dad may not have remembered Sam, but I sure as hell did!" He pulled Sam into his chest for a hug, and grinning against his ear whispered, "happy birthday Sammy."
Sam's heart sung as he realised that Dean had known it was his birthday all along, and had only been feigning forgetfulness. Laughing joyously, he punched his brother hard, "you jerk! I thought you forgot!"
Dean held his hands up in mock surrender, "honestly Sammy?! That you would even think such a thing wounds me deeply!"
Grinning, he grabbed Sam's wrist and began pulling him down the road. When Sam asked where they were going, Dean looked back over his shoulder and grinned, "why, I'm taking you to the lake of course!"
And Dean had been true to his word. He had guided Sam the considerable way to the well hidden lake in the woods, not too far from the school, and when he'd opened his bag, Sam was happy to find Dean had snuck his swimming trunks inside.
The two spent the rest of the day playing in the lake, diving after each other, and playing 'loch ness'. Sam was good at catching Dean unaware, and dragging him beneath the water. But where Sam was good, Dean was better.
Gasping his defeat, Sam raised his hands and giggled, "please, enough Dean! I give!"
Dean grinned at his brother, and catching him around the waist, dragged him back to the shore. The two led in silence for a while longer, until Dean said they had better get dressed again, and head back to school, so that their father didn't realise they'd missed the day.
Sam nodded and began pulling his clothes on. Once he was done, he grabbed Dean's arm gently, and turned him so he could look properly into his eyes, "Thanks Dean, this was..." he blushed slightly and shook his head, "I love you" he mumbled at last.
Dean simply looked at Sam for a while, before grinning and pulling him into his arms, "I love you too Sammy."
By the time Sam was twelve, he didn't crawl into Dean's bed anymore, but that didn't mean the nightmares had stopped. At night he would grit his eyes closed and clutch at his sheets, praying the images would go away.
But Dean new Sam better than the other thought, and one night, when Sam was once again plagued by nightmares which he had now learnt to silence, he felt his mattress dip.
Dean was sixteen now, and his voice had deepened so that it was rough and yet silken, and as he inhaled a breath Sam squeezed his eyes closed.
"I can't stand watching this anymore!" Dean grumbled, before he sighed and reached a hand over to his little brother, gently tugging the sheets out of his grip.
The movement was what broke Sam's resolve, and he released a single, pained sob.
Within seconds his world was nothing but Dean, as the other boy, no, man, curled his arms around Sam's body in a way that he hadn't felt in months. "I don't care if you want to act all grown up, and don't come to me Sammy..." he murmured into his brother's ear as he dragged him close, settling him comfortably in his lap as he ran a reassuring hand through Sam's silken locks, "but don't expect me to respect that decision when I see you like this."
He tilted Sam's face up to his own, a gentle thumb wiping away a tear as he said quietly, "I don't care how old you are Sammy, I've got you, and I'm still here."
By thirteen, Sam dreaded the look that came into his brother's eyes as their gazes met first thing in the morning.
"Dad and I are going out on a hunt Sammy, will you be okay by yourself?"
Every time Dean said it, he wanted to shout, to scream, 'NO! No I will not be okay!' But he didn't. He knew Dean wanted to leave just about as much as Sam wanted to be left, and he knew he couldn't put the extra burden on his brother by saying no. His heart clenched painfully though; this would be the first night he had ever had to spend without Dean near.
So he simply helped Dean pack, moving in synchronicity with his brother as he gathered the things he would need. When Sam moved to pull the wickedly curved blade from under Dean's pillow, and hand it to his brother, Dean shook his head, pushing the blade gently back into Sam's hand. "This is yours now Sammy, if I'm not here to protect you, I want to know that you have a way to protect yourself."
Sam simply stood staring at the knife as it rested heavily in his palm.
"This is a silver blade, Sam" Dean said quietly, the seriousness of his tone, and the fact that he hadn't used Sam's pet name had the younger boy's eyes snapping up, knowing this conversation was serious. "This knife is blessed, cursed and salt dipped, it's pure silver, and it's engraved with enough runes to stave off almost anything you'll encounter on a run of the mill hunt, do you understand?"
Sam nodded, eyes wide, as he ran gentle fingertips along the sharp edge. Dean caught his eye again, and Sam listened intently.
"If anything comes after you, I don't want you to hesitate, okay Sammy?" when the younger boy nodded, Dean continued, "if it's me, or Dad, and something about us doesn't seem right, I want you to take this knife, and stab whoever or whatever it is that looks like us, okay?"
Sam's eyes flew wide, and he shook his head, "but what if it's really you Dean?!" he gasped out, his voice almost painful as he even thought it.
Dean shook his head and grinned, as he brought his little brother to his chest and crushed him into a hug, "you know me better than anyone Sammy, you won't get it wrong." He chuckled quietly, and grinning into his brother's neck mumbled, "and if it's Dad, well who cares if it's a shifter or not?"
Sam laughed, but it was nervously. He should have been focused on his brother's words, but instead all his ears had caught was the gravely tone in which they were spoken, and all his mind had registered after the first sentence was the way Dean's silken lips pressed so gently against the vulnerable skin of his throat.
Standing with a sigh, Dean pushed Sam away, "time for me to go Sammy."
Sam had been forced to watch as his brother and father left, again. He curled onto the couch and simply waited, he knew that this time they would be gone at least overnight, but somehow he couldn't bring his eyes to move away from the door.
He sat and waited, not bothering to get up and eat, his eyes simply trained on the door, mind dwelling on the wellbeing and safety of his brother, his most precious thing. At some point he fell asleep on the couch, Dean's knife held securely in his hand.
This time, when he woke screaming, there was no one there to hold him.
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Well there you go!
Please tell me what you think of it so far! Is it that hard to push the button...?