Note: So this happened. I think we all knew it was coming.
Spoilers: 10x23 | Bother's Keeper.
"Sammy, close your eyes."
God, how many times had he heard that simple phrase?
How many times had Dean given him that instruction over the years?
Back when Dad was killing the fugly creature of the week, and Dean deemed his little brother too young to view such a scene.
When a teenage Sam had killed a werewolf, which had began to transform back to it's human form as it died.
Every time the Winchesters found their target in the middle of it demolishing it's latest victim.
Sam couldn't count the number of times Dean had told him to close his eyes, to keep him from seeing the evil around them.
And as Sam knelt before his brother, the same brother that had protected him from witnessing the many horrors of the world, the brother who was now holding the scythe above his head, a very specific memory snuck it's way into Sam's mind.
He was stretched out on a motel bed, his body damp with sweat and blood as he tried desperately not to move.
Dean was stitching up the damage done by the latest monster, a large gash across his abdomen. Dad had been injured on the hunt as well, not quite as bad, but he had messed up his hand and stitching was not an option. So he did his best to hold his youngest son still while closely watching the ministrations of the older one.
Sam knew that Dean was more than capable of patching him up, but every now and again their father would give quiet instruction and his brother would nod his head and proceed to carefully drag the needle through the torn skin.
Sam's body ignored his efforts to maintain an unmoving composure and shuttered in response to the agony tearing through it.
John's calloused hand pressed more firmly against the young boy's chest.
"Keep still Sam."
"I'm trying." Sam insisted through clenched teeth.
"I know son. You're doing good. We're almost through."
Sam may have only been thirteen years of age, but he knew a lie when he heard it.
Instead of pointing the fib out, he tried hard to breathe slow and remain still, or as still as his body would allow. No matter how much he wanted to, Sam had no control over his physical reaction to pain, and both his father and brother knew as much.
He tried to push the anguish from his mind and instead focused on Dean, watching his face as he concentrated on Sam's injury. The young teen was unable to get a view of the wound without moving, but he could see his older brother's expression, and that told him all that he needed to know.
Sam cried out, his body jerking, torso arching away from the deft touch as the needle slipped through shredded skin.
"Easy Sam." John ordered softly as he pressed down on the teen's chest in an effort to halt the movement.
A hand slid under his sweat soaked bangs and rested against his forehead, Sam recognized the touch immediately, watching Dean as he stared down at him, his face lined with concern.
"Close your eyes."
Sam squinted at the demand.
"Dean, you've to to-
"Wait a second Dad."
Even through the pain, Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean never told their father what to do.
"Sammy, close your eyes." The instruction was a gentle as the hand on his head, and just like every other time he had heard that phrase before, Sam complied.
The pain didn't end at the loss of sight, but he felt his mind wandering as he waited it out.
He must have drifted off, maybe even passed out, because the next thing he knew, Sam was waking up.
It was dark in the room and he could feel that the laceration was bandaged up tight. The young teen noticed his father hunched over in a chair that had been pulled up next to his bed, and his brother was stretched out right next to him with one of his hands lightly gripping Sam's wrist.
Sam smirked at the sight, apparently both of them had forgotten about the spare bed that was placed right next to his. He didn't mind though, there was nothing like being surround by Winchester to make you feel safe.
"How you doing kiddo?"
The injured boy tore his eyes from his sleeping brother to look up as his Dad, who was now awake and leaning in close.
"I'm okay." He answered honestly. The pain had gone from a searing agony to a dull discomfort, thanks to all the painkillers, and although exhaustion seemed to blanket him, he was feeling much better considering.
"Good." John said with a nod as he helped his youngest son sip from a bottle of water.
Once his thirst was quenched, Sam let his head fall back against the pillow, fighting his closing eyes as he stared intently up at his father.
"Dad?"
"Yes Sam?" The older hunter responded.
"Why did Dean tell me to close my eyes?" The teen asked, his mind putting forth the question it had subconsciously been mulling over.
"What do you mean. He's told you to do that before." John pointed out.
"Yeah, when he doesn't want me to see something, but there wasn't anything to see this time. I couldn't even see the stitching or anything. I was just watching Dean." Sam puzzled.
His father looked thoughtful for a moment, before returning his gaze to his son's face.
"You have very expressive eyes Sam."
The teens eyebrow's climbed in confusion.
"You can see everything you are feeling right through your eyes. Joy, frustration, excitement...pain, it all shines through your eyes. Your Mother's were the same way." The hunter recalled wistfully.
Sam was not entirely surprised by the mention of his mom, though such references were rare, John always let his softer more reflective side show when one of his boys was injured.
The young teen waited for his father to continue not yet sure where he was headed with the explanation, but willing to be patient in order to find out.
"It's hard for Dean to see you in pain. Maybe he just didn't want to see all that hurt in your eyes. Especially when there is nothing he can do to fix it." John suggested.
Sam pondered the idea for a moment. Remembering all the time he had been forced to watch his brother in pain with no solution to offer.
He nodded after a moment, knowing that if Dean hadn't been able to hide the agony in his stare on those occasions he had been injured, it would have killed Sam to look him in the eye.
"But I don't think that's the only reason."
This time John seemed to be speaking more to himself than Sam, but his young son waited, hoping he would proceed with his thoughts.
His father did not disappoint.
"I think maybe your brother didn't want you watching him hurt you."
Sam perked up at that comment.
"But he was fixing me! Patching me up. He had to Dad, he had to stop the bleeding! He wasn't hurting me." He declared defensively, but keeping his raspy voiced hushed all the while, as not to wake the focus of conversation sleeping soundly next to him.
"I know that Sam. And so does Dean, but that doesn't change the fact that he was hurting you. Whether it was necessary or not."
Sam couldn't deny that truth.
"And your brother may be strong and brave, but seeing you hurt scares him, and having to hurt you probably scares him even more. So maybe he just didn't want you to see him causing you pain. Maybe he just doesn't want you to remember him doing that." John suggested softly.
Sam didn't object.
His father's theory seemed logical.
Dean was always protecting him, so it made sense that his older brother wouldn't want to see him in pain and really wouldn't want to be the one to cause it.
"Get some sleep son." His Dad ordered in a whisper, gently squeezing his arm before standing from the chair and moving over towards the bed closest to the door.
Sam relaxed back into the mattress, careful not to move his body too much for fear of the pain, but still turning his head in the direction of his brother's sleeping form.
As Sam closed his eyes, he felt the hand gripping his wrist tighten just a little, but the simple movement was all the comfort and reassurance he needed.
It told him everything he needed to know in order to rest peacefully.
He was safe.
His big brother would protect him.
As the memory flashed it's way through Sam's mind he was reminded instantly about how much his brother had always loved him.
About how hard Dean had tried to always protect him and keep him safe.
And as his older brother gave that familiar instruction, he knew that Dean was still in there, the real Dean.
The Dean that always did his best to protect him.
The Dean that couldn't stand to see the agony in his kid brother's eyes.
The Dean that didn't want his little brother to watch him as he caused him pain.
Sam's big brother.
As he knelt on the ground, staring up at his protector, his hero, Sam thought desperately of a way to reach him.
Of something that could get through to him.
And then he remembered someone with expressive eyes.
Someone who's emotions could shine right through their gaze.
Someone who, with just a look, could remind Dean how much he was loved.
Someone other than Sam.
Their Mother.
If she could remind Dean who he was, that was all Sam needed.
But if she couldn't, then Sam would close his eyes and save his brother from having to see the despair shining through them. He would save his brother from having to see the kid he raised watch as he killed him.
If he couldn't save Dean from the mark, the least he could do is save him from any additional anguish.
Because that was the least he could do for the one person that was always there for him.
The one person who always protected him.
The best damn person he knew.
His Big Brother.
Dean.
Note: I've got a killer-cold and I stay up until 5am watching the episode and then writing this...so I apologize for the spelling/grammar mistakes that are probably everywhere. Hopefully this isn't complete rubbish! Thanks for reading! Please comment/review if you have a moment. - Sam