AN (READ PLEASE!): This is my first fanfic, so try to be nice; flames will be baked into cookies. I recommend listening to "Carry on My Wayward Son" the lullaby version when reading the story.
WARNING: Feels will ensue
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. You recognize it it's not mine.
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
"Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus,"
"Sammy don't."
Deans green eyes shine with a brightness that makes Sam hesitate. For a second it's just him and Dean again, no apocalypse, no angels, no mark of Cain, no dead friends. For a split second Sam can feel his heart beat; a small jester that to others wouldn't call for as much as a batted eyelid. But he knows different, because for a minute he has his brother back and he can see the faces of the fallen.
Jo and Ellen laughing about something a half drunken Ash slurred out from his place on the old pool table.
Bobby's there slapping Sam upside the head and throwing a large book at Dean's.
Cas is there with his confused smile eyes twinkling at something Dean said, and for once understanding the reference.
He can see Jessica hugging him with that smile that could light up a whole city.
A faded memory of Mary Winchester sprouts at the back of his head smiling with his dad, and Sam can see for the first time in a long time a smile on Johns face.
Then they are gone replaced by the dark soulless orbs of reality that Sam hates in every fiber of his broken body.
I can't. I won't fail you again, "I'm sorry brother."
"Audi nos," and Sam watches the smoke rise from his brother's empty body.
Lay your weary head to rest
"Mom!"
Dean Winchesters eyes fly open tears spilling over. Thunder crashes outside his window as he pulls his Star Wars blankets up to his chin. Down the hall he can hear Sammy crying causing shivers to run down his spine just as Mary Winchester burst into her son's room. She takes in his messy short hair and the red around his eyes. Lightning strikes and Dean duck under the covers. Making a beeline for his bed Mary pulls Dean into her arms and begins to stroke his hair as he grips her with child like strength.
"Shh, my little angel" She soothes as Dean collapses in tears, staining his mother's white night gown.
"Did you have a nightmare?" Mary asks and Dean hiccups a small yes, and curls his small hands around her middle. His mother doesn't ask what it was because he had never been good at talking about his feelings. Her eyes crinkle with the memory of the cut that got infected because he didn't want anyone to see him cry and when he stained his shirt Mary remembered finding it crumpled behind the washing machine in an attempt to hide it.
He would tell her when it passed so she just held him as the tears came as sang to him as he slowly fell back asleep.
Don't you cry no more.