My Brother's Keeper

a/n This is just a little Oneshot from Dean's POV. WARNING: fifth season spoilers. And angst. Lots of angst. *evil grin*

"And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother's keeper?"

(Genesis 4:9)

I never read the Bible, except the passages about casting out demons. But I'd hear that one scripture. Hell, everyone's heard it. The whole "brother's keeper" things. And that always struck a chord with me.

It started out as the job my dad expected of me. "Watch out for your brother", "Take care of your brother", "Keep your brother safe". He'd been telling me that since Sammy was born. And I was glad to obey. I thought my dad was like Superman. He was stronger than anyone, he could fix anything, or make anything alright. And I wanted to be just like him.

Then the fire happened. And Dad told me to take Sam outside, to take care of him. All the while we stood outside, watching the place burn, I kept thinking about what my dad had said. I had to take care of Sammy. I was his big brother. It was my job to make sure Sam was okay.

And over the years, it was still about what Dad said. It was still about this duty I believed I had. But I watched the kid grow up. He was always more like Dad then me, and he was so damn stubborn, and he hated the way we were raised, the way we lived. But there was this look in his eyes when he would talk to me.

He trusted me. Too damn much, in my opinion. I mean, I could be a friggin' self-centered bastard. But he never quit trusting me. He never quit believing that, no matter what, I would have his back.

And I loved the little snot. I hated the way he and Dad always argued, because they were the people I loved most in all the world. They were the only family I had, and I loved them, and I hated how they would always put me in the position of trying to stop them, or covering my ears and ignoring them, or having to choose between them. I never wanted to do that.

When Sammy left, Dad quit acting like he gave a shit. He never told me he loved me, only that he was proud of me. And then, only when I'd killed something evil or twisted. He went out of his way to go check up on Sam. Which left me alone on several solo hunts.

I'd always figured that my first job without Dad, I would at least have Sam with me.

It was a bad job. I never really told Dad how bad, let alone Sammy. The damn thing killed off five people, two of them kids, before I managed to figure out what it was. And it kept going after kids. Sure, I saved them. But some of them were messed up by it. I didn't know if they'd ever really be okay.

And the terrified eyes of those kids kept reminding me of Sam when he was little. Before he got surly and angry and only ever wanted to argue.

Something about that first solo hunt screwed me up. And I missed Sammy so damn bad that it hurt. Hell, I cried. Not buckets of tears, just a few drops that slipped out. It hurt. I wanted my little brother to still be there at my side, trusting me to make things right and tell the truth. Trusting me, even when he couldn't trust Dad.

When Dad disappeared, I was freaked out. Hiding it, but scared and worried. Dad was tough to be taken down. And, at the time, I really believed the only thing that could stop my dad would be his death.

As much as all that sucked, working with Sam, finally, hunting with him, having him around watching my back, trusting me like he did when we were little... It made me happier than I'd been in years. He was my brother and my friend.

When Dad told me I might have to kill Sammy, I wanted to scream. Or cry. At least break something. But I had to follow Dad's orders. That was something that had been bred into me, taught to me constantly since I was just a kid.

And, in the end, it was the one order I couldn't follow. There were times when it seemed like there was no other choice. Time's when Sam was acting crazy or whacked out, and I was scared that he'd finally snapped. I stopped trusting him to be strong enough.

But no matter what happened, no matter how many times he did stupid things, or made the wrong choices, or the fights we had, I knew I could never kill him. He was my baby brother. And the only thing that really mattered was that I had to keep him safe.

He hated me for making the deal to bring him back to life. And I hated Hell. It's Hell. It was horrible and terrifying and it destroyed me. I hated myself, after everything that I had seen and done there.

But if I had to make the same choices all over again, even knowing what I know now, I would still have made that deal.

Even at his worst, Sam should still live and be happy.

The whole idea that all these forces way out of our weight class were manipulating us and pulling our strings drove me batshit. Because that meant they were using Sam. And that just couldn't go on. I would have done anything to get him out of it. But all the choices I had would just have made it worse for him. And I couldn't do that. So I was stuck in limbo, stuck waiting for something to happen, something to change.

Nothing did. Events lined up and screwed us over, playing out the way other people wanted them to.

Being helpless, enable to do anything to protect Sam, except constantly be there with him, even though that meant that his weakness was right beside him... Even though that meant I could be grabbed and used against him... That sucked ass on an epic scale.

And in the end, I couldn't do anything. And he gave up everything to protect me. To let me live a happy, normal life. Sammy is in Hell right now, to keep me safe.

And it kills me.

I was supposed to be my brother's keeper. But he ended up being mine.

I hate it.

...

Hell is a prison. A prison of pain. A prison of blood and torment and screams and burning.

It's Hell.

Sam felt it all. Saw it all. He was not free of it. He would never be. He understood that.

And none of it mattered.

Because at least Dean was safe.

fin.

Dean's thoughts following fifth season finale. WARNING: fifth season spoilers. And a whole lotta angst.