"He's My Family"
Mystic25
Summary: Sam takes Dean home. Short Homage to 9x23.
Rating: T for imagery
A/N: This is my way to cope with all that was the end of 9x23. I swear these boys are going to be the death of me.
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"Parents were the only ones obligated to love you; from the rest of the world you had to earn it."
~ Ann Brashares,
Forever in Blue: The Fourth Summer of the Sisterhood
"I'm proud of us."
Dean Winchester
Supernatural; Episode: "Do You Believe in Miracles"
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A long time ago, another lifetime ago, Bobby had told Sam that family didn't end with blood. And he had been right, Sam had seen those moments light up like flashbulbs, where people jumped over the threshold and became a part of your life and your world.
Yes, family didn't end with blood, not now, not ever. It never had.
But tonight it had ended with blood.
Dean's blood.
Blood that was thick and heavy over every inch of Dean, and every inch of Sam as he held his brother who felt so much smaller than he ever should have. Sam's body convulsed with something it failed to understand, how he could still be when the part of his soul that lived inside his brother was gone behind blood and pain from such a violent end.
Sam wanted to kill Metatron, the angel who had stabbed Dean, had looked him right in the eye as he killed him. Sam wanted tear down heaven with his bare hands and stab that bastard right through, to rip out the same amount of pain and humiliation that Metatron had ripped from Dean.
But Sam couldn't stab or tear anything. He couldn't think, or move, or breathe.
When he was a little kid, during a spare moment in summer, he had wanted to be Superman and had jumped off the roof of their storage shed at the house they had rented. But he found out halfway to the ground that he wasn't Superman, he was just a boy in a plastic cape who couldn't fly. He never forgot the pain he felt when his arm broke in half, how it exploded like a bomb inside him, how he screamed.
Or how Dean, who had jumped off with him, trying to be Batman had ran to him, his black sneakers on the red Superman cape as he called Sam's name when he saw him hurt, when all Sam felt was the pain, when all he wanted was his brother.
There was no red Superman cape now, there was only Dean's blood, down Sam's jacket and staining his hands and arms, when all Sam felt was the pain, when all he wanted was his brother.
Sam bent himself down to position his arms under Dean's knees. He didn't lift, but carried Dean up and near him the way Dean had done in his Batman guise so long ago.
Dean's long arms and legs hung limply and broken off of his body, his face bashed to hell with bruises and blood that covered his mouth, his swollen eyes.
Sam reached over and wiped the blood off his Dean's chin because he couldn't see his face, his skin was still warm, half shaved stubble rubbed under Sam's fingers.
[ "I'm proud of us."]
"It's okay Dean-" Sam doesn't want to be proud, he wanted to scream, he wanted to die, but he doesn't, he has to be there for his brother. "It's gonna be okay buddy-" he choked, "We're going home-" a spike of jagged pain ripped at Sam and tears fell onto Dean's closed eyes. "I'm bringing you home, alright?"
"C'mon," Sam moved his arm under Dean's shoulders, and carried his big brother out to the Impala that sat in the night filled with stars.
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Now let's all go cry in the corner until fall…
~Mystic
