Dean screamed. His heart was pounding against his ribs. After a minute he suddenly realized he was screaming.
Screaming for Sam.
Damn he was scared! He just wanted Sammy. His little brother Sammy. The one who set Lucifer free. Who betrayed him for a demon whore. Who drank that demon's blood. Who came back to life after Jake stabbed and killed him, because he sold his soul. Who watched his girlfriend burn on the ceiling, just like their mom. Who ran off to college. Who gave him the necklace that was meant for Dad. Who nearly died because he, Dean, was bored and wanted to play a game or two. Who Dean fixed Lucky Charms for when he didn't want spaghettios, and Dean didn't mind, because his baby brother was happy. Who Dean carried out in his own arms, and right then and there decided that Sam was his responsibility. Who was six months old when their mom was on the ceiling engulfed in flames. Who didn't remember their mom.
Who wasn't here.
He was going to die here. All alone. He, Dean, was going to die, without his baby brother. He howled in anguish, head bent to the floor. The cramped room felt like it was closing in on him, smothering him with claustrophobia.
He does not know that the demons had him locked in a shed, only a mile out of town. He does not know that he has four fractured ribs and a concussion. He does not even know they are demons. Not anymore.
All he knows is that Sam will be there.
Sam will always come for him. Because Sam is his brother. He needs no other reason. Sam will save him.