Summary: Post Season 4. Sam is right next to him, but so very far away
Author Notes: This can be read as a stand alone fic, but it can also be read as a continuation of "Darkest of All" as a bit more of Dean's perspective. Since people seemed to want a bit more of an uplifting ending, I tried and this is the best I came up with.
You Are
"I thought you were beautiful from the start." Dean whispers out of nowhere and Sam's shaking against his lessens a bit. "In the way a four-year-old thinks things are beautiful anyway."
A shaky breath gasped across his collarbone and Dean feels Sam's lips twitch up into a smile, and not in that insane way he has now, but the beginnings of a real Sammy smile.
"You were like a big-wheel and a G.I. Joe all rolled into one. And the best thing was I didn't have to beg mom and dad to get you for me, you were just there. All swaddled in blankets and wriggling in mom's arms"
He felt Sam relax more against him, coming back more to himself, or at least that's what Dean hoped ferventlydesperately, though he dared not look; could feel the tears drying sticky against his neck.
"But I couldn't play with you yet; too fragile"
"Like being wrapped in cellophane"
His little brother's voice, all raw and tender and screamed-out, was perfect to Dean.
"Yea, like seeing the gifts under the tree at Christmas knowing you can't have them. But you know the best present?"
Dean thought Sam was holding his breath, hanging on every word like he'd done when they were younger.
"When they gave you to me to hold the first time and I couldn't see them smiling because I couldn't take my eyes off of you." Dean's voice was breathy in remembered amazement.
"They took you away too soon though and I swear the temperature dropped ten degrees." He unconsciously clutched Sam tighter to him. "But then there was heat and danger and I was so confused and dad put you in my arms and told me to run, and all I could think was Sammy Sammy Sammy ."
Sam's shudders died off and he was utterly still in Dean's arms. He tucked his head closer to his chest and tried to curl in on himself. Dean frowned and grasped Sam's chin, pulling his face back up to meet his own. His little brother was the picture of guilt and self-hatred and resignation.
"Mom died. You lost what should've been yours"
No. Not what I meant. Never.
Nose to nose, no room for misinterpretations.
They'd had enough of those.
"You were mine from the beginning. You are mine Sammy. I knew it before the fire." His tone is firm, but gentle.
"I miss mom, but I got you and-" He almost wishes the words tasted like betrayl, but they don't, they just don't, "and I wouldn't change that night when I got to hold you, trade you for any other life, any other person".
Tears form again in Sam's slightly more focused –thankyouthankyouthankyou- hazel eyes. His brows scruch, trying to piece together threads of a thought and he twines his fingers tighter into worn leather.
"I'm not a GI Joe anymore. What am I?"
Keep him here, keep him breathing, keep him close close close beside you
Dean relaxes, pulling his brother closer to him as a smirk slips across his lips.
"Now? Now you're beer and dirty magazines little brother"
Everything I need