I must warn you- this is not a happy story. If you are here for rainbows and puppies, turn back now. If you're still here, ready to read, I appreciate it. And I'm sorry. But...enjoy I guess?
(Not written for a specific season)
Disclaimer: Not mine, just crushing people's hearts with Kripke's lovely characters.
"Aw come on Sammy, the silent treatment? Really? I thought we'd moved past that after you turned twelve?" Dean laughs, inspecting the loaded clip before sliding it back into his beloved gun.
Sam stands facing the door of the latest motel room, meticulously arranging the weapons bag that sits on the bed closest to the wall, expression blank.
"Alright alright, I didn't mean it. Whatever I did to make you this upset, I didn't mean it, man. Now can we go please? There's a very ugly werewolf just waiting to be annihilated by the Winchesters," Dean pleads. Again, Sam doesn't respond, instead hauling the duffel over his shoulder and heading for the door, grabbing the keys to the Impala on his way and slamming the door shut behind him with a resounding thud.
"Yeesh, guess you're driving then," Dean declares to the empty room, gathering the rest of his gear and following behind his brother, sliding into the passenger seat a few moments later.
The brothers drive in uneasy silence for a while, Sam focused solely on the road and Dean focused solely on trying to read his brother's newest mood swing. He's about to break the silence when Sam speaks first.
"Dammit, Dean," he mutters. It's whispered so softly that Dean almost misses it, and when he registers the sadness behind the words, his eyes widen slightly and he turns to face his little brother.
"What, Sammy? What's wrong? Talk to me."
Sam huffs out a long, heavy breath and just shakes his head.
"Sam, come on, what's going on? What'd I do?" Dean tries again, watching in disbelief and horror as the tears start to spill from Sam's eyes. "Sammy?"
"How could you let this happen, Dean?" Sam grinds out, eyes glistening, but still aimed at the asphalt in front of him.
"Let what happen, Sam? You're really freaking me out here. Please. Please can you just pull over for a second," Dean begs. When Sam doesn't respond, he redoubles his efforts, his tone changing to match that of his father's. "Sam. Pull over. Now."
Again, Sam doesn't react at first, just lets the tears come faster and harder until they blur his vision completely. Finally it becomes too much, and he complies, skidding to a stop along the side of the abandoned highway, tires screeching unbearably. Dean would normally complain about the horrible treatment of his car, but at the moment, he's too terrified. What the hell? Dean reaches to grab his brother's shoulder, but freezes when he hears Sam's next words.
"Why'd you leave me?" he screams, burying his face in his hands, letting the sobs rip from his throat like a tortured animal. Dean shakes his head, trying to understand.
"I'm...Sammy I'm right here man. I'm not going anywhere. Come on, just...just look at me. Please? Sam?" But Sam is too far gone, too lost in his own head. Dean lays a hand carefully on his little brother's shoulder, squeezing lightly and then moving to tousle his long hair like he used to when they were kids. But the usually comforting touch has no effect now. If anything, Sam begins to sob harder, muttering incoherently.
"What Sam, what?" Dean is frantic now, grabbing at his brother's face, trying to get Sam to look at him.
And then he stops.
Because again, there's no effect. But it's not in the way he expects. There's literally no effect. Dean can't find purchase, can't lift his brother's tear-streaked face to meet his own. His breath quickens.
"Sam...?" he whispers. "Sam what's going on? What's..." he stops again. Tries to control the sudden panic that is quickly overtaking him. He stares at the shuddering form of his little brother, still slumped over the steering wheel, tears flowing freely. And then he looks back down at his own hands. They look the same as they always have. Rough and callused. Strong. Solid. He can't be...
"Sam?" Dean tries again, his heart constricting when Sam appears not to have heard, still buried in his unexplainable grief. "SAMMY!" he screams over and over, pounding on the dash of the Impala.
No response.
Dean reaches for Sam's shoulders again, attempting to shake him as hard as he can.
Nothing.
Now Dean is the one shaking, his breath coming out in rough, shallow gasps. Nonononono. Not possible.
He takes one deep, steadying breath, trying to get back under control. Okay, okay, focus . Last hunt, what happened?
It was a demon possession, he remembers that much. They had followed said demon to what they believed would be his lair, but what had actually turned out to be home to about a half dozen of the mooks. They had been outnumbered, but still prepared enough to take down the first three with only a few minor scrapes and scratches. Dean sucks in a breath as it all comes flooding back to him...
"Sam, down," Dean yelled, plugging one of the bigger demons full of rock salt the second his brother hit the floor. Sam flipped back to his feet almost instantly, shoving Ruby's knife into its still struggling form and immediately turning to take on the next one. Only two left.
Both brothers struggled with their respective demons, landing a few punches but also taking a few shots of their own until finally Sam found an opening, twisting expertly out of the burly man's grasp and bringing the knife home. He spun to help his brother who was currently on the ground with another demon on top of him, his lips stained red, grinning despite the situation.
"Come on you son of a bitch, is that all you got?" He taunted, fueling the demon's rage. It's next punch was aimed right to the gut and Dean lost his air, suddenly gasping for breath. None of that mattered though because the last demon was suddenly too preoccupied with the knife in its back to take advantage.
Dean rolled the now limp body off of himself, quickly reclaiming his feet and reaching to slap his brother on the back.
"Thanks Sa..." he started to say- and then froze. Sam's eyebrows pulled together in confusion, but before he could ask what was wrong, Dean had tackled him to the floor. The sound of a gunshot echoed through Sam's ears a second too late, registering as they fell together onto the cold concrete, Sam landing first, head protected by Dean's outstretched palm.
Slightly dazed, Sam rolled out from under his brother, immediately finding the source of the threat- another demon who had finally gotten smart and brought a firearm. The demon was stalking towards Sam now, gun raised, aim sure. Sam knew he couldn't get out of the way in time. Unless...
He took two long strides towards the demon, flinging Ruby's knife as hard as he could before the demon even registered the movement. And then the knife found it's target, burrowing deep into the demon's stomach, right below the rib cage. Sam was still moving, taking the last few strides to close the distance and twisting the knife one more time before pulling it out of the demon, turning to find Dean and get the hell out of there.
But Dean wasn't behind him. Dean was still on the ground. And he wasn't moving.
"DEAN!" Sam screamed, sprinting back across the room to his brother's side, the tears starting to pool when he saw the bullet wound that had been meant for him. "No no no no no Dean you hold on for me. Hold on for me now," Sam pleaded as he flipped Dean over carefully, cradled against his stomach.
"S'm?" Dean groaned, blood dripping down his chin, staining his shirt.
"Oh God, oh God Dean," Sam cried, rocking his brother back and forth on the cold ground. "Please don't do this, please stay with me. Come on man, just hold on."
"S'okay S'mmy," Dean muttered, voice growing weaker. "S'okay..."
Sam cried out a second later when he felt his brother go limp in his arms, the tears staining his cheeks and falling softly onto the still form of his big brother...
"Oh God. Oh Sammy I'm so sorry," Dean whispers, coming back to the present and running a hand through his hair. "I didn't want to leave you...I won't leave you." Dean's hitched breathing matches that of his little brother in the driver's seat beside him. Sam's head, still buried in the folds of his sweatshirt, snaps up at Dean's words, almost as if he can hear them this time. He whips his head towards the passenger seat, wiping furiously at the tears, straining to see past them.
The car is dead silent for a moment, broken only by Sam's barely heard whisper.
"Dean...?"
"I'm here, Sammy, I'm here," Dean smiles through his own tears, though he knows Sam can't see him. Yet with those unheard words, something changes. Suddenly Sam is back in control of himself, blinking the last of the moisture from dampening eyelashes, taking long, deep breaths. He stares at the empty passenger seat of the Impala for a long time, and Dean stares back, willing his brother to understand. I'm here. I'm always here. I'm with you Sammy.
Sam smiles then, nose crinkling slightly, just the way Dean remembers him smiling as a kid, wrapped in the arms of his big brother.
"Let's go hunt a werewolf," he whispers, gunning the engine.
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