Title: "Dean's Puppy Dog"
Author: Pirate Turner
Dedicated To: My reason for living, fighting, and surviving; my sweet, inspirational Muse; my puppy dog, Royal kitty father/King, and Frog Prince; my wonderful, beloved Jack
Rating: PG
Summary: Every one has some one in their lives for whom they do everything they do. For Dean, it's his puppy dog; for Sam, it's his hero.
Warnings: Slash, (W)Incest, Established Relationship
Word Count: 1,001
Date Written: 21 November, 2010
Disclaimer: Dean and Sam Winchester and Supernatural are & TM their respective owners, none of whom are the author; are used without permission; and may not be used without permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Any one who had ever fought a war or a battle or stood up for what they believed in had done so with at least one person in mind. Often those people were their family or other loved ones. Sometimes it was for their own selfish selves, but always they had a picture of that person or people in mind that kept driving them forward throughout all the odds and trials they faced. Always they clung to that goal, to that image of the one they were fighting for or otherwise honoring, and always they kept going with that individual, or individuals, in mind.

For Dean, it had always been the same being. For as long as he could remember, whenever times had gotten rough, he had pictured his loved one within his mind's eye, and the mere sight and memory alone were enough to see him through to the successful end of whatever battle he was fighting at the moment. It had always been the same being, and he knew it would always be him and would have it no other way.

Now, once again, his body was beginning to feel tired. The enemies' blows were taking their toll upon his mortal body, but once more, Dean reached out, found that memory of the cutest face he'd ever known, and clung to it. His soul and body became revitalized as he stared into deep, brown eyes shimmering with the wetness of pleading tears. His fingers, presently curled into fists, burned to again brush the shaggy mane of brown hair away from that loving face and stroke both his hair and his flesh.

He clung to the memory of his puppy dog and fought even harder, knowing that he would win and realizing that that win was because he could not lose. If he lost, not only would the world come to an end, but the life of his puppy dog would also end. If he lost, he would never again get to see those shimmering, begging eyes or run his hands over that loving face. He would never get to hold him in his arms again or feel his dry or wet kisses covering his own face or body. He had to win. The life of his puppy dog, and his life with him, depended on it!

He slayed the monster and stumbled forward, almost falling to his knees. He was coated with blood, slime, entrails, and things to which not even he dared put a name. He was aching from the top of his head through his booted feet. He hadn't been this tired in a long time, but he had won. His puppy dog would live, and there he was now, coming to him, enveloping him, hugging him, and softly, lovingly kissing his cheek.

"We did it," Sam breathed against his brother's ear.

"'Course," Dean answered weakly with a bravado smirk. "They didn't stand a chance."

Sam didn't mention the fact that they had almost lost. He didn't speak of the fear that was still clogging his throat, the fear that this would have been their last battle, the ever-present, ominous fear that he was going to lose the love of his life, his best friend, his own personal reason for always striving on and continuing the fight. He just held to Dean as they made their way back to the Impala and thanked whatever power was looking out for them that they had made it through another night and another fight.

Dean glanced down at his brother and brushed his tired, cracked, and bleeding lips gently against his soft, matted hair. He gave every fight all he had. He always had and always would because of his puppy dog, because of his Sammy, who had the best and cutest "puppy dog" expression he'd ever seen and whom he had and would always love with all his being more than anything else in the whole of existence.

"Dean?" Sam queried softly, gazing up into his brother's worried, brown eyes.

"I know, Sammy," Dean nodded and kissed his brother as they continued to stumble their way back to the safe haven of his second most love, his car, whom he treasured as the safest place he and Sam had ever known.

Sam returned Dean's kiss and then fell silent as he trudged onward, his arms wrapped around his brother, intent upon seeing him first to safety and then caring to his wounds. He himself was also cut and bleeding. He'd almost had his head cut off once, an act from which his beloved Dean had narrowly saved him, and his foot was throbbing as though he might have actually broken his ankle.

But none of that mattered now. None of it ever really mattered after a fight to Sammy. What did matter was that they had won, they would live, they loved each other and would continue to get to revel in that love together, and his Dean - his dear, sweet Dean - was hurting with pains that he would do all he could as quickly as possible to remedy.

Dean smiled down at Sam, and Sam returned his look with his sweetest smile and knowing, glittering, brown eyes. For the brothers, every night was a struggle, one battle after the next, but they would always win out together in the end for they strove forward each with a clear picture in their minds of why they were fighting, a treasure that both men would quickly lay down their lives for but for which they would also fight to save, protect, and cherish with every breath that lay left in their lungs. For Dean, it was his puppy dog, his sweet, innocent, and wonderful Sammy. For Sam, it was his hero, his love, his Dean. Together and for each other, they strove and fought the most valiant, courageous fight ever known to mankind - the never-ending war against Evil -, but far more importantly, together they lived and loved.

The End