Every swing, every punch, every word out of his brothers… no, the Devil's mouth was not going to deter him from staying with Sam, his little brother.
The pain Dean felt, was nothing, nothing to the pain he felt for his brother. It was not strength that held Dean back from defending himself. It was not strength that stopped Dean from shouting and yelling at Lucifer to give him back Sam. His little brother needed him, and he needed him to not fight back.
Why?
For Sam to take control, Dean needed him to see him. Not the Dean that fought to release pent up anger. Not the macho, non chick flick moment Dean. He needed to Sam to see him. His brother, his family.
Lucifer dragged Dean around the car, throwing him against the side as he slumped to the ground. Bruised, battered, swollen, bleeding but not broken. Dean Winchester would not break, and he would not break when his little brother needed him so crucially.
"Sammy, it's ok… I'm not gona leave you… not gona leave you." Dean stares at his younger brother and he sees what he knew, all along, he knew. Sam was fighting back, he was giving the bastard hell for him, for their parents, for Jo and Ellen, for Bobby and for all those they had lost on the way that, to the demons and angels, had been minor speed bumps in the road.
Dean watches as a glint of the sunlight reflects in Sam's eye and inside, Dean smiles. Sam was winning, his little brother was winning. But… with a pang of realisation that, earlier on that day, he had told Sam "you're a grown man, Sammy…" it was not until now that he truly believed it. He was not little any more. He was a grown man. A grown man, through all his mistakes and bad judgments, was fighting back. He was fighting the Devil, and Dean felt pride.
"It's ok Dean, it's gona be ok. I got him."
But Dean didn't feel ok. He panicked. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to move, to lunge at Sam. To drag him away from his fate… from his destiny. He knew what was coming, and his heart beat faster and faster as Sam brought out the rings from his pocket. Dean drew his eyes away from the rings. He stared hungrily at Sam's face. He ignored the incantation Sam spoke. Ignored Michael showing up and demanding he be let to fulfil his destiny. Dean had only eyes for Sam. And then:
Sam, arms thrown wide like a crucifix, fell back. Dean felt it happen in such a pain staking manner, he felt he wanted it to go slower. Just so Sam was on this side of Earth, not Lucifer's cage… not Hell for a little longer. And Sam fell, pulling Michael with him…
Dean, kneeling on the grass… the spot where Sam had jumped, no… sacrificed himself, stared, glared at it. The thought that his brother had gone down fighting did little to spark life in Dean. Memories flashed through his mind: the pranks they had played on each other when they had been young, teaching his brother hunting skills, how to drive, how to-
Dean bowed his head. He tried to think of something to say, but nothing did justice. Nothing could bring everything that had happened, his brothers sacrifice to a justifying end with mere words. No. Dean would not say words to try to sum up his brothers accomplishment… if you could call it that. Dean would honour his brother with his last wish.
A promise kept.