A/N: Unfortunately I don't own Supernatural or any of the Winchesters (darn it) and I'm not making a penny off my stories. Please don't sue me.

Being Dean Winchester

You're keenly aware of how afraid everyone is of your father, and with good reason. He's one scary badass motherfucker. Hell, you're slightly afraid of him too and he's never hit you outside of a little restrained and very well deserved corporal punishment here and there 'cause sparing doesn't count. There was that one time when he'd dropped Sammy, but Sam had hit him first in a moment of hormone induced insanity. You still remember your heart skipping a beat the second you realized what Sam was about to do, which was a second too late to stop him. Your dad was so shocked that his reflexes were slow. No one just got away with hitting John Winchester, not even his own son. Maybe especially not even his own son. You'd had to restrain yourself against your first instinct to step between them, protect the stupid kid. Sammy may think that you're the favorite, but you know better and that knowledge helps you stay out of it. Dad would never really hurt the little bitch. But order had to be maintained, and the kid couldn't just go around decking your father whenever he felt too big for his britches. It's not the last argument between the two, not by a long shot, but it is the last time that Sammy ever hits your father.

Maybe fear is the wrong word for how you feel about your old man. Awe would probably be better. The man's a real life superhero, and he's your dad. How the hell you got so lucky, you'll never know. All the other kids at the various schools you attended used to brag about how 'my father can beat your father,' but you were the only one that could say it and know with absolute certainty that your father really and truly could kick the ass of every other father on the planet. Didn't matter how big or tough they were. 'Cause your father was John fucking Winchester, demon hunter.

The older Sam gets, the worse his attitude becomes. You don't understand it because he was such a sweet kid, though you try since you feel like it's your job to understand and be there for him. To make sure he gets whatever he needs and as much of what he wants as possible 'cause your dad's too busy trying to figure shit out that you know he'll never really let you in on and he's always distracted. Sam seems to hate your father, hate the hunting. By now you're so identified with John and what you both call 'the job' that it turns your stomach whenever the boy goes off on one of his rants. Damn it, you want to be John and you know at this point you'll be hunting till the day you die. So if he hates John and the family business then surely he must despise you. Because that's all you are, all you want to be. Pastor Jim had once told you about vocations, and that's how you feel about hunting. It's not a job, or something that Dad forced you into. It's your calling and you'd known it even before you understood what one was. But you don't say that because you know how corny it would sound if you actually said it out loud.

The day Sam asks you if you ever wanted something more, you nearly deck him yourself and you suddenly marvel at how much restraint your father has. He makes it sound as if saving people's lives was some lowly shameful thing. If you'd become a fucking police officer, or a fireman, would the ungrateful little brat be proud of you then? He acts as if you're some blubbering idiot your father has brainwashed, calling you a perfect little soldier in a tone that's definitely no compliment. And damn if it doesn't hurt worse than any injury you've ever had.

Sometimes, you think that if you didn't know the truth about what was really out there, you might have become a mechanic. You're really good with cars, with working with your hands and figuring out how things worked or why they weren't working the way they should. The aptitude tests you'd taken in the various schools you'd been in all said that engineering would be a good field for you. But, really, you couldn't save people's lives and kill things on a daily basis as a mechanic or engineer. Not to mention, it would be really hard to justify having an arsenal in your trunk. Okay, maybe an engineer could swing the whole saving lives thing, but you're pretty sure that you've passed up the average engineer on that score before you hit twenty. What sort of satisfaction could you possibly get from doing anything normal when people's lives were at stake? Sam insists that other people can do the saving, the killing and especially the dying. But really, how often have you run into other hunters when you go after something? And if you hadn't been there, how many more people would die before someone else looked into it? No. There aren't enough hunters to go around as it is. You know that, and you're not about to voluntarily thin the ranks even more just because you want to keep your ass safe and scar free. And you definitely don't want to die of old age, wheezing your lungs out in some 'rest home.' Live hard, die young and leave one hell of a good looking corpse. Sounds like the perfect plan to you. Sam just looks at you like you're crazy when you share it.

Sometimes you wonder if the two of you are really brothers, if he's really John's son. Then he'll get this look on his face, his jaw set and eyes blazing, and it's almost looking right at John Winchester. And his temperament is truly more like John's than yours is. He just has this damn stupid desire to be safe, whatever the fuck that means, that is just irritating. You know safe doesn't really exist, that it's just an illusion, and he should know it as well as you do. After all, hadn't you been 'safe' in your own home with the doors locked and your ex-marine father right downstairs when your mother was murdered? You much prefer having evil things afraid of you, going on the offensive and taking them out before they can get to you or any of the innocent people that have no idea that they exist instead of sitting somewhere waiting from them to rip your life apart again. Sammy seems to think that if he just walks away, the monsters will disappear. Your disbelief at his attitude and fear that it will get him into trouble doesn't come close to the pain you feel when you realize that he's going to leave you in his search for normal.

You vividly remember the day you realized that everyone sees youas a scary badass motherfucker now. You'd been faking it for years, trying to emulate your father. Your motto is WWJWD – What Would John Winchester Do. You're not sure if you've just gotten so good at faking it that you've got everyone fooled or if you'd actually faked it long enough for it to become the truth. Doesn't really matter though. Either way, it's all good. You know that your father will fight evil until he draws his last breath, that he'd die for you and especially for Sammy, that he'd never admit weakness, fear or defeat. So that's what you do. Day in and day out.

You find someone you think you could spend the rest of your life with. Her name is Cassie and she's passionate and beautiful and smart. Definitely too good for you, but she doesn't seem to mind. For the first time you find it hard to lie, hard to fabricate easily swallowed falsehoods. You want her to know you… really know you, in a way only your family ever has. You finally get up the courage to come clean only to realize what a huge mistake that was. Your Dad notices that you're withdrawn and sullen after you met up again. He asks you what's wrong and waits for you to tell him. It takes you two days, but you finally do. He looks like you punched him in the gut and he apologizes, first time you can remember that he just came right out with an apology like that. You try to explain to him that it's not his fault. If you didn't want this life, you could have left just like Sammy did. You're here because this is what you chose. This is who you are. But you can tell that he's still blaming himself.

Your father went missing after leaving you a message so chock full of EVP you can barely make out his voice, let alone understand what the hell he was trying to say. You panic and go straight to Stanford, to Sam. The kid's actually gotten taller and you think it's horribly unfair that he should get to be bigger then you. the freak. He doesn't want to help, which you think is just completely cold. If it were Sam missing, Dad would have been halfway through tearing up the entire state of California looking for him by now. Sam acts like it was just something Dad did, like Dad ever just went missing for days unless something was wrong. You finally get Sam to agree to go with you just for the weekend so he can make some idiotic interview on Monday. This is your father's life, and he can't spare more than a couple of days. You want to smack some sense into him, remind him how important family is, but you know that won't help. Maybe you should have donated him to science when you had a chance. You don't find Dad, but you do find a Woman in White that needs killing. You bring Sammy home just in time for him to watch his cute little girlfriend burn on the ceiling just like your mom.

You don't know what made you go back to Sam's place. There was just this feeling in the pit of your stomach that refused to be ignored. You get back barely in time to drag his ass out of there. He's broken and withdrawn and you remember being there once. You remember what it was like when you didn't speak for nearly six months until your father was so desperate that he took you to a psychic. He was afraid to take you to a psychiatrist because if you saw what he saw… he didn't want anyone making you think you were crazy or delusional. Sam decides to go with you, just to find the demon that killed your mother and Jess. You're not sure if you're relieved or not. On one hand, you know he'll be relatively safe if he stays with you. On the other, the kid's so selfish that you want to wring his neck. He doesn't seem to care about your father's well being at all. It's just all about revenge to him.

You thought it was a shock to realize that you inspired fear, but it was nothing compared to the shock that you feel the moment you realize that Sam, your little Sammy, had officially joined the ranks of scary badass motherfuckers. The kid is broody, whiny, touchy-feely, annoying and you still have to save his unnaturally large ass far too often. Not to mention that the little punk's shot you. Twice. And gotten himself possessed. By a girl. Maybe people are just easily frightened, you think. Maybe the title of scary badass motherfucker just isn't as serious as it used to be. Maybe you need to reassess your own scary badass motherfucker-ness. 'Cause, seriously… Sammy?

You're father's death fucked you right the hell up because who were you without him? How can you do this without him? And that doesn't even count the knowledge that sits in the pit of your stomach like a block of ice that won't go away no matter how hard you try to ignore it. You'd been an inch away from death's door with no hope of recovery and suddenly, miraculously, you were all better. You were still banged up, but nowhere near as bad as you should have been. Then dad's there, saying goodbye and saying things that couldn't be true. Sam might think you're stupid, but you can add two and two and get four. Your father had sold himself to save you. And he didn't get ten years. Hell, he didn't even get ten hours. It wasn't a fair trade. You didn't deserve it. The demon had been right about that much. Now your father is gone and you'll be damned if you can figure out what to do with the weight of his sacrifice or the huge empty hole he's left in your life. It's the second time you've cheated death and both times it cost someone else their lives. This time was even worse because you would have sacrificed Layla to save your father. Not something you like to admit, but there it was. How the hell did your father expect you to save Sam without him? To even make it from one day to the next knowing where he was and why?

You're aware, in those moments that you're not scared shitless, that Hell must have a real hard on for you. How else could you explain the deal being for only one year as opposed to the customary ten? How else could you explain them making the deal at all? Hell obviously wanted Dean Winchester and you'd just handed them exactly what they wanted on a silver platter. Fucked up thing of was it didn't matter. You'd do it all over again. Sammy can have all the tantrums he wants about your low self-esteem. He's the last damn thing you have left in the world and not having him in it anymore was too painful to live with another second. It had been bad enough when your father died. The only thing that kept you from selling your soul to get him back was Sammy. And the fact that John would have likely kicked your ass up one side of the country and back down the other.

But you understand your father now. If he'd felt that hollowed out panic, that mind numbing pain when you were dying that you felt when you held Sammy's lifeless body in your arms, then you guess he didn't really have much choice about it either. That's made it easier to forgive the old man for the burdens he left you with.

So… you went to Hell and now you're back. Hell must have some sort of early release program for Winchesters, you think. It's not a serious thought, because you know there's got to be a reason you're out, some sort of catch. They had you right where they wanted you... no way they'd just let you go. Then you realize that you've been brought back as part of some sort of 'divine plan.' Well, God never showed much interest in you before and you think it's only fair that you return the favor. Except… there's something about the hope of redemption for the things that you did down south that's tempting. If the Big Guy has a purpose for you, then you can't be evil. Right? But when you close your eyes, you see their faces, hear their screams. All those people you'd tortured, ripped to shreds, tormented. For over ten years. Sure most of them had earned their trip to the Pit, but what you'd done to them wasn't justice. It was sadism, pure and simple. You enjoyed causing them pain, breaking them apart, striping them of their sanity and humanity. Would have enjoyed it just as much if it had been Mother Theresa or Gandhi on the rack. That realization is what torments you the most and drives you to drink. You know that on some level you're still that guy and you're terrified that if he ever got out again, you won't need Hell to turn you into a demon. So yeah. The idea of redemption is appealing.

Then there's Sammy. You always knew when he was lying, but it's gotten much easier these days. At first you were afraid that he'd gotten better at it because you really couldn't tell anymore, but then you realize that there is a new, foolproof way. If his lips are moving, the kid is lying. It scares the hell out of you because you figure that somewhere along the line Sam's moral compass got all smashed to hell and you can't figure out how or where. Not to mention that when you're the most morally sound person in the room? There are some serious problems. You just know you fell down on the job 'cause he's always been your responsibility. Your gut's telling you he's gotten himself so deep in the shit end of the pool now that he can't get out or even admit that he's drowning. He thinks you're too weak and broken to be of much use since your stint in Hell. Kid's probably right. You can't stop him from slipping away, from disappearing right before your eyes. But, damn it, you're John Winchester's son and if you know nothing else, you know how to channel scary badass motherfucker like a pro even if you can't quite be that anymore. Hopefully that'll be enough to save you both. That and maybe a couple more miracles. Hey, the first time you ever prayed in your life and you actually got an answer. So maybe this redemption stuff ain't so pie-in-the-sky crazy after all.