Rated T for language.
Dean's POV in the episode 1x03 "Dead in the Water". Lucas lost his father and he's about to lose the rest of the family. Dean knows how he feels.
The grammar might be rough and Dean may be OOC. I just finished the first season of Supernatural, so I'm still kind of new to the characters.
Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do NOT own Dean, Sam, Lucas or any of the other characters mentioned. All rights to their owners.
I hated kids. But most of all, I hated the ones that were happy. The ones that still had both parents. They were a constant sticky reminder of the life we had lost. The childhood that had been ripped away from us. A reminder of how broken Sam and I really were.
I was lucky. I remembered mom; her golden hair and kind eyes. For Sam, it was an entirely different story. He was raised by two broken males who had no idea what the hell they were doing. With no female figure in our lives, it was surprising that we managed to turn out so well. If you, you know, disregard our lack of trust and motto to 'shoot first and ask questions later'.
But this time it was different. This time there was no spoiled brat to hate. Lucas was in our boat.
At first, I had made crap up to try and impress Andrea. Chicks dig guys that like kids. You can't blame me - her ass was worth it. But when I saw the fear trapped on the kid's face, everything was different. I had to figure this out. It was too late to save his dad. He had witnessed that tragedy and I knew it would be burned into his memory forever – he'd never be able to get over it. For that, we were mirror images. Not a day passed by that I didn't think about mom. I felt like I let her down if her face skipped away from behind my eyes. No. Lucas had lost too much already. He needed his childhood back. Wasting days with grieving, doing nothing but drawing and colouring, was unacceptable. He deserved to be running around and having the time of his life. This wasn't fair.
I had never been ready to face a kid like me. Kids were supposed to be wild and loud like drunk girls. They weren't supposed to be stuck in the past worrying about the only things they had left.
Sam had been able to be ignorant. He had no need to fret. I always took his problems away. You could say I sheltered him too much, but I was his shield. I didn't want him to end up like me – a book sewn shut. However, with dad around, no thought unrelated to hunting remained wedged in our minds. We learnt to be strong. To be brave. Mom wouldn't have wanted us dwelling on her death. She would have wanted us to kill the son of a bitch that got her. While that mission was on hold, I knew I had to get to the bottom of this. For our lost childhood. For our unrepairable hearts. For Lucas.
I told him to be brave. That it was what his dad would have wanted. And slowly, I knew I had gotten to him. Bit by bit he warmed up to me.
In the end, after Sam and I saved his mom, he had opened his mouth. A word hadn't left his lips in months and because of me, he felt safe enough to talk. I wasn't a sap and I never would be, but the thought of bringing back the kid's life made me feel warm - not that I would ever admit that to Sammy. I felt like I had brought back a little justice to the world. I felt a little of my childhood rush back. I knew now that Lucas would be okay. He was the man of the house, but he was still a kid. He would take care of his mother while still running around and wreaking havoc.
I hated kids. All of them, except those that weren't really kids. The ones that had something – someone taken away from them. Because, after all, they were just like Lucas. They were just like Sam. They were just like me.