"Sssssh, Sammy, it's okay," Dean muttered, a little frantically, stroking his little brother's messy brown mop. "Everything's okay."
But Sam continued to wail. Even though Dean had tried rocking him, hugging him—even singing to him at one point—Sam was still shrieking so loudly that he threatened to break the sound barrier. Dean couldn't fathom how such a small child could create such a terrible, piercing sound.
"Sammy, you have to stop," Dean begged. "For me. Do it for me. Do it for your big brother."
And just like that, the child was silent. One last whimper escaped his lips before he settled into an easy sleep in his brother's arms.
And then, here they were again, twenty-one years later, only it seemed like only yesterday that Dean was coaxing the child to rest, to give up screeching for a little while, at least.
But Sam wasn't the same anymore. He was changed, thanks to that demonic bitch. He wasn't the Sammy that Dean had loved from the moment he was born—the child Dean had practically raised himself from the age of four.
No, he was different—so different that Dean barely recognized the person behind his brother's face.
"Sammy, you have to stop," Dean begged, once again, hoping that he would catch a glimpse of his restless little brother stirring behind those eyes that bore into him.
No such luck.
"Please," he said, his voice hardly a whisper. "For me. Do it for me... do it for your big brother."
"You'll only stand in my way," Sammy snarled, his upper lip curled. "You're of no use to me."
But how could he say that? After everything Dean had done for him. And, oh, how he missed that screaming child. He may have been irritating, but there was no way Dean's overbearing love and protection for him would ever flicker out.
"My brother," Dean whimpered, sprawled flat on his back, appearing much like the child he had adored. "My little brother. I love you, Sammy."
Sam pulled the trigger, knowing that from the moment he had pulled the gun out, Dean had already been a dead man walking, his hope lost—flickered out.
End.
Okay, I'm sorry. Please, nobody murder me. I don't know what possessed me to write this—especially since evil!Sam irritates me to no end.
But... yeah. I just had to get this written down. I sincerely hope this never actually happens.
By the way, this is my first attempt at an angst/deathfic. Please review and tell me what you thought.
