goodnight, travel well
"stay, don't leave me. the stars can wait for your sign, don't signal now." - goodnight, travel well by the killers
The night that his home caught on fire, Dean remembered his father guiding him into Sam's bedroom. His father towered over little Dean, a protective hand laying on his shoulder. He told Dean to tell Sam goodnight, and Dean looked at the small baby in the crib, his little brother.
"Goodnight, Sam," he said. Dean always did what his father told him to.
Dean was passed off to his mom, who tucked him in and told him the angels were watching over him. She kissed him on the forehead, and Dean snuggled deep into his bed, unaware of what was going to happen.
When Dean woke up, everything was way too warm. He squirmed in his sheets, trying to get out in the open air. As he untangled himself from his bed, he could smell an unpleasant stench, and he realized smoke filled the air. Scared, he ran to find his dad, who was out in the hallway. His dad told him to take Sam and run, and Dean did. Dean always did what his father told him.
He held his baby brother tight, hoping he wouldn't slip as he rushed down the stairs. He made it out into the lawn, and Dean took a deep breath of smoke free air. His arms felt heavy, but Dean still didn't see his father.
Finally, John did come out, smoke and tears staining his face. He took Sam out of Dean's arm, and Dean clutched onto his dad's leg.
"Dad, where is mom?" He asked, staring at the house that was burning bit by bit. "Why isn't she out here?"
John looked down at his boy, with the pleading, scared eyes. John bent down, still holding Sam close. He took a hold of Dean, and kissed him on the forehead. "Mom isn't coming, Dean."
Dean did not understand. "What do you mean? Why is she staying in the house?" He asked.
John sighed as another tear fell down his face. "She can't leave, Dean. She's gone."
As John saw it click inside Dean's head, his heart broke. Dean gripped onto his dad and cried. He wondered why his dad would say such a terrible thing. Why would he lie to Dean like that? Dean knew it must be a lie, because his mom would never leave him.
As firefighters, paramedics, and police showed up, John left to go talk to them. He left Sam with Dean. "You take care of him, okay?"
Dean nodded. Dean always did what his father told him to.
Sam, of course, didn't remember any of it. He didn't remember the smoke or flames, or being carried out of the house. He had been told, but he didn't remember.
But as Dean held Sam in his arms, twenty six years later, it was all Dean could think about.
"Dean." Sam spluttered, coughing and wheezing as he tried to get the words out.
"Shut up, Sammy. Just shut up." Dean pressed harder on to Sam's side, trying to keep the blood that was flowing around his fingers from escaping. "You're gonna be okay, got it?"
Sam nodded, and blood dribbled out from between his lips. Dean tightened his grip on his brother's side.
"God dammit, Bobby. Where are you?" Dean shouted to no one. He had called Bobby to come get them, Dean couldn't let go of Sam long enough to drive, and Sam wasn't strong enough to keep up the pressure himself.
With another cough, Sam tried to sit up, but Dean shoved him back down. Defeated, Sam reached out his hand to touch Dean's chest. "Dean, you're bleeding." Sam was overcome with another fit of coughing, and collapsed back down onto the ground.
"Don't worry about it, Sam. I'll be fine."
Sam wanted to tell his brother he wasn't fine. He could see the blood staining Dean's shirt and jacket, and it seemed like way too much to qualify as "fine". But he couldn't. He couldn't get in enough air to say the words. Every breath was a massive effort, and with each inhalation he felt a deep pain in his chest. The pain numbed out everything else. Sam could barely feel Dean next to him, or even the had his brother had placed on his side. He could only feel the agonizing pain inside him.
Dean felt as if the seconds were hours, and they might as well have been. Every second Sam lost more blood, and Dean was starting to grow dizzy as his own shirt flowered with crimson. Bobby had only been a five minutes drive away. How could he be taking so long to get here?
As Sam sputtered out another ragged breath, he tried to close his eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep. He felt so tired. But as soon as his eyelids fluttered shut, a sharp smack hit him across the face.
"Sammy! You gotta stay with me, Sammy."
"Dean," Sam begged. "I'm so tired, Dean."
"Sammy, you try to close those eyes, and I will knock you senseless."
Sam tried to laugh at his brother, but he couldn't get the air, and started to gasp and splutter, more blood dripping out of his mouth. Blood leaked out of his side too because of the movement, and Dean clutched harder, even though he was already holding on as tight as he could.
Dean shook his head as he watched his brother shake in his arms. He had always known it would be demons. They were the nastiest suckers out there. Lying, cheating, just flat out despicable, and with a hungry desire to kill.
There were so many of them, more than Sam and Dean had expected. They came out of nowhere, it must have been a trap. It started out well at first, the brothers were knocking out demons like it was nothing. But they kept coming, more and more and more. Dean and Sam fought for a long time, for an hour at least. Except there were only two of them, and two people can only fight for so long.
Dean saw it happen in slow motion. He was on the other side of the warehouse where the demons' lair had been. Sam stood on the other side, and Dean watched as the demon moved its knife, and Sam moved his arm to block it. However, Sam was slower, drained from fighting. The demon switched at the last moment, driving the knife into Sam's side. The younger Winchester crumpled, and the demon strutted off, victorious.
"Sammy, no!" Dean screamed, his voice seeming so quiet in his ears, when in reality it echoed through the warehouse.
The demon Dean was fighting kicked him straight in the chest, and Dean heard his ribs snap. He fell to the ground as well, air knocked out of him. He struggled for air, and lay gasping, eyes fixated on the ceiling. As his breath returned to him, Dean rolled on his side with a grunt, and that was when he saw it.
The battered book that held the exorcism was tossed in a corner, about twenty feet from where Dean lay. It had been knocked out of Sam's hands earlier, and been lost in the confusion. Dean struggled, but raised himself to his feet, and ran as fast as he could to the book.
He began to read the exorcism, and the room was filled with demons screaming. It had happened too fast for any of them to go after Dean, and with a huff, Dean finished the exorcism.
Black smoke erupted through the warehouse, and Dean blindly raced through it to get to Sam. He felt his ribs erupt in pain with every step, but it didn't matter. He had to get to Sam. He stumbled and nearly tripped over several bodies, but finally, he reached his brother.
Dean fell to his knees and placed his hands on Sam's side. Sam looked up with those green eyes, through his mop of hair, blinking slowly at his brother.
"Good one, Dean." He laughed, and let out the first of a long line of coughs.
"Just stay still, Sammy. I'll call Bobby, he'll come get us."
So Dean called Bobby. That had been five minutes ago. He should have been here by now.
Sam looked at Dean, and felt like his eyes were the heaviest things in the world. He took in a breath, but he couldn't get the air into his lungs. "Dean, I'm really tired. I've got to sleep. If I sleep, I'll be fine."
"No, Sam. Stay awake. Stay with me, Sam."
Dean shouted at his brother, but Sam's eyes grew too heavy. They fell shut, and Sam felt relief. He didn't have to struggle to stay awake. He could sleep, and the pain would stop. He would be okay, Dean always took care of him. Dean always protected him.
As Sam slipped off to sleep, Dean tried to wake him up. He smacked his face, shouted his name, did everything he could think of, but Sam wouldn't open his eyes. A tear slid down Dean's dirty and bloodstained face. "Sam, don't go," he pleaded, holding onto his brother for dear life. Suddenly, something felt wrong. Sam's side no longer heaved with the effort of breathing, and Dean removed his hand from Sam's side. His brother was gone.
Dean let the sobs wash over him as he laid his head on Sam's chest. As Dean shook, Sam moved with him, and for a moment, Dean would think Sam was still alive. But each time he checked, and each time Sam was still lifeless.
Dean felt his own breath growing short. His chest was on fire, his broken ribs digging into him. For the first time since he had run over to Sam, he looked down at himself. His grey shirt was almost black, and Dean wiped a finger over the dark stain. It came back red on his fingers. Shedding his jacket, and then his shirt, Dean saw the dark cut across his chest. The demon had sliced him when he had kicked him.
The loss of blood was making Dean's head ache and pound. But, the blood he lost was not the problem. Inside his chest, the broken ribs sliced and cut at his organs. The blood was filling up underneath his skin, filling up his lungs. His heart struggled to oxygenate, not having enough blood to fuel all of his systems.
As Dean ran his hand along the slice in his chest, he knew he was going to die. He knew Bobby could never get here fast enough. But he also knew that Sammy was gone.
Dean still held onto his brother, and as his breaths grew rapid and strained, he leaned down to brush off the stray hairs on Sam's forehead.
Through the lack of air and the tears streaming down his face, Dean barely got the words out.
"Goodnight, Sam."
Dean took one last look at his brother, and lay down on the cold floor next to him. His body seemed to be on fire, but he shivered and shook. He found himself wanting desperately to drift off to sleep, and at first he tried to fight it, but eventually, his eyes closed just as Sam's had done.
Before Dean finally fell asleep, he had one last discernible though. All these years, from when he was a little kid, Dean had always done what his father told him to. But not today.
I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you. I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm so-