The first time he tells his brother to close his eyes, Sammy's not even old enough to comprehend. Their house has just caught fire and the precious bundle of six months old baby was just thrust in Dean's arms with strict order to run outside. The four year old doesn't quite grasp the tragedy of the situation yet, but he knows that first and foremost he must get his brother to safety, thoughts of his mommy on the back of his mind. He had no doubt his father would appear with their mommy in his arms. It's when the fire gets stronger and the explosion breaks the windows of Sammy's nursery room, that he whispers softly. Close your eyes, Sammy. The words were perhaps said more for his own reassurance than Sammy's, because Sam is too small to understand, will be too small to understand for a little while, so mommy had said. But the baby in his arms wiggles and cries and struggles to break free of his brother's protective hold and Dean thinks that maybe Sam does understand, if his distraught behaviour is anything to go by. More soothing words follow and Dean no longer cares if Sammy hears, because talking to his brother is better than just standing and watching the flames eat their house, their home (the image that hunts him years after), while daddy is not here yet with mommy. Sammy is the only thing he knows, the only thing that matters, because Dean is just little, scared boy watching the raging fire and Sammy might not know, but Dean needs him as much as Sam needs Dean.
When daddy reappears with a hunted look on his face and no mommy, Dean falls silent. And if John notices that the only words his elder son would speak for a long time would be directed towards the toddler and not so much towards anyone else, he doesn't show it.
Sam is two and it's one of those worse days. Worse days for Dean. Their dad spends more time with the bottle than he does with them ever since the fire that killed their mommy. Today is no different, but this time, John gets violent and nearly smacks Sammy with a glass. So Dean grabs the crying toddler and barricades them in the separate room, listening to his father's enraged cries from the other side of the door and his brother's distraught ones just beside him, crocodile tears streaming down his red and scrunched up face. Dean is terrified, because it's the first time he sees their father like that, but he still embraces his brother and rubs calming circles on his back, checking the toddler for injuries in the process. Having seen none, Dean states that Sammy's crying merely because he's scared and that makes the two of them.
'Close your eyes, Sammy' he says, his own body shaking, because he's terrified of his father, terrified of all the screaming and cursing, Sam's and Dean's names mixed with the words of anger, hurt and hate. John resembles a wounded animal more than a grown up man now and Dean somehow understands and it shakes him to the core. So he holds his brother for dear life, his only normalcy in this surreal world and lets him fall asleep in his arms, afraid that he'd lose him if he stopped holding him.
Things quiet down as the night gets thicker and darker, but Dean doesn't go to sleep, too afraid of what would happen if he lets his guard down if only for a minute. Come morning light, Sammy stirs, let's out a whimper, but doesn't wake and Dean's grateful, because he doesn't yet want to leave the safe confinement and seek food for him, no matter how hungry he is himself. It's near afternoon, when the door bangs open, the lock broken down and frantic John enters the room and sees his children sitting quietly, clinging to each other. He seems more shaken than both of them at the moment, his face reddish, eyes bloodshot. Dean regards him with apprehension, his eyes way too mature for someone his age. Sammy just sits there, hiding his face in the crook of his brother's arm and it's only then that John truly realizes what he's done to his sons.
'I'm sorry' he says brokenly, tears welling up his eyes 'I'm so sorry'
His arms are open and Dean crosses the space between them and enters, but not without hesitation. John embraces and holds them close long after that.
'Close your eyes, Sammy!' Dean says excitedly, as he takes his brother's hand and leads him in the direction only he knows. Sam is five and it's his birthday, but he learned early on, that there was no place for birthdays in Winchester life. There was not much place for anything in Winchester life, really. Their father spends most time away than he does at home. Most of the time he forgets his sons' birthdays anyway, so it makes not much difference, but still it makes both boys sad.
'No peeking!' Dean chastises him good naturedly, when Sam tries to crack an eye open.
'Where're we going?' he laughs, his small legs trying to catch up with Dean's long strides.
'Here!' Dean exclaims triumphantly, letting Sam's eyes snap open 'Happy birthday, Sammy!' There is a table before them, a small cake with five candles stuck in it sitting on the wooden top, along with a bowl of candy and a plate of crackers. Sam's eyes lit up excitedly at that, because he's never had cake before. He runs to the table, Dean following with a chuckle. He climbs up the bench and... gets held down by much stronger pair of hands than Dean's.
'Easy there, cowboy' gruff but warm voice says 'How about you make a wish first, huh? Wouldn't that be nice?' Bobby lights up the candles one by one with a lighter and Sam is equal parts amused and apprehensive. Dean sits down beside him and even though Sam is standing, Dean is still taller. He winks at Sam mischievously, like he knows a secret nobody else does and Sam believes that must be true, because Dean is the smartest person he knows and the fact he knows many secrets is self – explanatory.
"I wish daddy was here"
Just like Dean, he'd learned not to ask for much. But unlike his brother, Sam hasn't yet learned, that sometimes the simplest things were impossible.
He takes his first step towards this lesson, when he blows the candles and their father's still not here.
It's a windy night outside and the first time they're left alone at the motel with no adult supervision. Usually they're left off with Bobby or Pastor Jim or whatever hunter John would trust with his children. But Dean is ten and therefore deemed old enough to be left alone with his little brother. Worries about money, food and clothes came with the package. The hunter's lifestyle was not a predictable one, thus John's time out hunting varied from three days to a couple of weeks, depending on the hunt's complexity. As the eldest child, Dean learned early on what exactly was out there, why their father salted all the windows and thresholds wherever they went. He tried to spare his little brother the knowledge and took it upon himself to protect him.
He smiles fondly at the figure fast asleep on the bed next to his own. It's late and it's been a difficult day for them both. Sam had thrown a temper tantrum over something Dean cannot recall. Something to do with dinner or a bath, perhaps. Dean doesn't know and doesn't care, now that the little crisis is over and he managed to put the child to sleep. He himself is about to turn in, as soon as he checks the salt lines once more.
He makes sure the door is locked before heading to bed. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
Something isn't right and he feels that even seconds before he wakes up later that night. He hears crying and his eyes immediately go towards Sammy's bed, even though all he can see is the outline of his brother enlightened by moonlight from the outside.
'De-, De-' his brother cries and within seconds, Dean is by Sammy's side.
'Hey, it's ok' he says, wiping the tears gently from his brother's face 'Had a nightmare, Sammy?'
But Sam doesn't respond, his eyes focused on something behind Dean and whatever he sees makes him cry more and even cling to Dean like a lifeline. The kid's terrified, Dean can tell and so he turns around. What he sees almost makes him shit his pants, for there is a dark human like figure just outside the window, too close for comfort, too close to just assume it's just some passerby, even though it's three in the morning and no one sensible would be passing such remote motel at this hour.
He climbs out of bed, forcing his brother down with him, even though the kid's petrified and Dean doesn't blame him, because he's about to lose it himself. Suddenly, it's very cold, too cold even for this cheap motel's standards and Dean can fell the goosebumps and Sammy's trembling body against his own. He forcefully pushes Sam under the bed, grabbing the .45 that his father had left him, before getting under himself. All the while he makes sure to face whatever it is that he's dealing with, mindful of his father's lessons on turning his back on enemy. He's sure, whatever's watching them, won't stay outside for too long.
He immediately feels Sammy cling to his side. His brother is silent, for which Dean is grateful. His heart fills with pride a little as he watches Sam trying to be brave and calm for his own and his brother's sake. Dean pulls him close and rubs his back calmingly.
'Close your eyes, Sammy' he whispers and Sam does just that, because no matter how trying the kid could be at times, he almost always obeys his big brother. Sam's trembling increases when a pair of grey dirty feet appeared near doorway, only just visible through the space between the mattress and the floor. Dean's heartbeat increased tenfold. He's never used a gun outside the training field. He can hear his brother's erratic breathing and perhaps that is what finally does it for him. The kid regards Dean as nothing less than a superhero. He easily bought it when Dean jokingly told him he's Batman and that made perfect sense in the little boy's world. Big brother could always do the impossible, could always make the bad disappear, would always protect his little brother. It's that thought that makes Dean grip the gun tighter and pull out his upper half from under the bed.
The monster is uglier than he thought, with pale, greyish skin and strands of thin greasy hair. He releases the safety and, for the first time in his life, he shoots.
He is the hero, after all. It is his job to make the monsters go away.
It is not their first hunt together, but it's the first one where Sammy gets seriously hurt, past the usual bruises and scrapes that come with their job. They were hunting a vengeful spirit and it targeted Sam, first throwing him against the wall, then resolving to throttling him, before burning down before their eyes, as John set the woman's corpse aflame. Before that happens though, she manages to throw Sam towards an old wooden cabinet and all the shelves crumble under Sammy's weight. Some wood is sticking out of it, creating something that would have been a bitch to land on. Unfortunately that's exactly what happens and Sam has splinters embed in his side, some blood showing from underneath his shirt.
'Sammy!' Dean is there within seconds, assessing the damage and gathering the unconscious little brother in his arms. Minutes later they're all in the car and Dean is arguing with John about the hospital, something that John doesn't take lightly, because they already had cops asking too many questions and John wants to leave the town behind as fast as he can. Sam comes to somewhere in the middle of the argument in time to hear John.
'... Besides, the bleeding has stopped. The splinters need to be removed, the wound needs cleaning and bandaging. You'd have to do it, son' their father says and his tone suggests there's no room for argument in that matter. Dean notices Sam is awake and looks questioningly at his brother. Sam nods his head in silent approval. The pain in his side is dull, but it's gonna come back full force once they begin to remove the splinters. That needs to be done though, so Sam braces himself for what's to come. He thinks he's glad it's Dean that's doing this, because he trusts his seventeen year old brother more than anyone else. He trusts him more even than he trusts their father.
Dean sighs and searches the med kit for alcohol and tweezers while their father drives. It's not the first time he patches someone up, but it's the first time he has to patch Sam up and somehow he finds this more troubling than it should be. He sterilizes the tweezers before raising his brother's shirt to see the shallow but full of splinters wound.
'Close your eyes, Sammy' he warns and pulls the first splinter out. It's the first time Sam swears so profoundly in the presence of their father, but no one chastises him for it.
'Close your eyes, Sammy' Dean's hands are covering his eyes to make sure he's not cheating and Sam lets himself be led by his elder brother. Dean didn't exactly tell him where they were going when he just announced they were leaving the motel, took their father's Impala and drove them here. The only thing that was sure was that they were in the woods and it was way too late for such excursions.
'What are you up to, Dean?' he asks curiously.
'Abandoning you in the middle of nowhere' is the response.
'Very funny, Dean' he says, knowing too well that his brother wouldn't do that even in the means of the joke, a fact he doesn't hesitate to point out 'You love me too much'
'No, seriously. Someone will find you in the morning. One look into those puppy eyes of yours, I'm sure some nice family will take you in'
'Dean!' Sam laughs, because his brother is incorrigible. Suddenly Dean's hands are gone and they're standing in a clearing, the sky framed by the treetops and filled with stars. It's not the first time Sam sees the night sky but it's only too rare, with the life they lead, that they get to stop and appreciate the beauty they have just at arm's reach. And as Sam stands there, mouth agape, Dean makes a move like he wants to leave.
'So... Bye, Sammy. Good luck with the forest'
Totally ruining the moment.
After earning a bitchface from his brother, Dean laughs and turns back. He has his duffel bag with him and Sam idly wonders what the hell his brother had brought that for.
'What's in there?' he asks and that's when his brother grins mischievously, before pulling the zipper open and taking out the items.
'No way!' Sam exclaims, seeing the insides of the bag. A small stock of fireworks and sparklers makes itself visible and Dean's pulling the first one out. They light it together and stand back a good distance away and watch it go up higher and higher before lightning up the sky in pink and yellow. They light the rest of the small stock and watch the sky burn in yellows, reds and oranges. They run out of the fireworks soon, but it doesn't matter, because none of them was ever happier than this moment.
'Thanks, Dean! Dad would've never let us do this!'
Dean chuckles and ruffles his brother hair, earning himself a half-hearted bitchface. Sam doesn't like his hair being messed with, but he's content enough to let it slide.
They sit on the hood of Impala and just watch the sky long after that, saying nothing, comfortable in each other's presence and unknowingly (or maybe quite intentionally) starting a new tradition reserved only for the two of them.
Years later, with apocalypse and whatever forces of universe tearing at them, they go back to this moment and remember.
His body is trembling with fever, withdrawal causing hallucinations of horrible things. He lays on the cot in Bobby's panic room. Sees the world engulfed in fire, the floor is blood and he doesn't want to take one step outside the cot that he's laying on, afraid the blood would drown him if he tried.
He started it. The world is blood and fire and he started it. Millions of people will die and he's to blame. Gordon was right. Everybody was right. He was a monster that should have died that day in Cold Oak. His world did a one – eighty when he found out about what he was, about his destiny. The revelation and loosing his brother to a deal that he was indirectly the cause of, started a painful spiral down, one he could not get himself out of. Then he learned the angels did exist, learned that they despised him with the same force he used to love and believe in them, learned that all his prayers fell on deaf ears. He prayed and no one ever listened, because he did not deserve to be saved, in their eyes. The heavenly forces turned their backs at him and if that isn't the universe's way of saying fuck you, Winchester, then he didn't know what was.
'No, no, no' he says, because he sees Dean, leaned up on the cross before him, the poor and righteous warrior of heaven and it's Sam's fault he's like that. Dean is bloodied and broken and he vaguely muses on why his mind chooses for Dean to die this way and tears well up in his eyes, because Dean doesn't deserve this.
'I'm sorry' he says, his heart shattering, as he sees blood, so much blood oozing out of Dean's side. His apologies are meaningless, though, because he's just abomination, the world would be better off without. He sees that in the way the angels talk about him, sees it Castiel's cold looks, but more importantly, he sees it in Dean's eyes, moments before being locked in this confinement. The eyes are now hurt and wary of him, assessing Sam's every move, as if, despite all, Dean wouldn't hesitate to put him down if he had to.
He's saying something and it's gibberish, he doesn't even realize his lips are moving, spitting out his every feverish thought.
Maybe it's his imagination, but he feels something cold on his forehead and hears a deep sigh.
He swears to God he doesn't know if he still believes in, that there's Dean's voice, rough and tired, saying 'Close your eyes, Sammy'.
He sees Dean kneeling beside the Impala, face bruised and bloodied and he doesn't need to remember, to know that he did it. The Impala helps him get a grip on himself and hold the devil down within himself.
'It's okay' he assures Dean, taking two steps back, afraid to hurt his brother if he gets too close again 'It's okay' he repeats, though it really isn't. Nothing is okay and nothing will be. Sam's going to hell. Granted, it's where he belongs or so he's telling himself. But Dean... Dean's gonna be a mess. Sam hopes that Lisa and Ben would be enough to pull his brother from the brink and hopes Dean really does find joy in his new apple pie life 'I've got him, Dean'
And he really does. He can hear the devil raging and struggling to take control, but Sam doesn't let him and has a strong grip on something that's supposed to be unbeatable. He takes a few long strides, not wanting to look at Dean's broken expression that somehow doesn't have anything to do with his injuries. He throws the four rings to the ground and opens a portal to Lucifer's Cage. The devil doubles his attempts to take back the wheel, but Sam would be damned if he let him. He looks at his brother one final time before taking the swan dive. Michael shows up at the last second and Sam's not even listening to the angel. Close your eyes, Sammy, his brother's voice tells him and Sam does that, pulling the angel down for a ride.
The bunker is shut down, red lights flickering and they're playing cat and mouse, with Dean posing as a very possessed cat with a hammer and Sam doing a nice personification of a helpless mouse. Dean manages to turn off the lock down and is now coming after him, sounding like he's having fun. Sam's nerves are like strings and he doesn't know how long he's going to last. He's not capable of hurting Dean, that much he's sure of. The atmosphere of suffocation and being trapped in these walls and halls that suddenly became very small for his big frame, finally gets to him. The demon is mocking and yelling and he's getting closer and an idea flashes through Sam's mind, that he should just let all of it end.
Sam Winchester is stubborn, though. Stubborn enough to not let his brother stay a demon for much longer, so he makes the only thing he can and allows Dean to catch up to him. He has weapons of his own – holy water and demon knife – but when faced with Dean, he finds he can't even raise his arm to do what needs to be done.
The demon smirks.
Close your eyes, Sammy.
He raises the hammer and is about to hit and Sam is prepared, but it never happens. The hammer never meets his skull, not thanks to Sam, but Castiel, who shows up in the nick of time. Sam feels like he's about to fall on the floor, his knees suddenly lax, but he keeps himself together.
He has a brother to cure.
Dean doesn't know what his brother will do once he learned of his collaborating with Death. His brother getting down on his knees and subjecting himself to whatever fate Dean has in mind isn't one of them. He expected a lot of yelling, a lot of pleading and bargaining. Instead he got tear-filled expression of his little brother, a calm albeit emotional speech and a handful of photographs from Dean's cassette. Perhaps Sammy has always had too much faith in him, because however you looked at it, for all his stubbornness and independency, with his life, Sam trusted his brother and his brother only.
Even as the kid is kneeling there, waiting for Dean to kill him, he worries more about Dean spending eternity in the empty or wherever it was that Death was putting him. Dean looks at Sam, his own eyes tearful and wonders if he is able to kill this man, his brother, his child. Quite selfishly but also truthfully, Dean considers Sam his child, because it was not John and not Bobby that raised him. Dean did. Dean was there for every birthday, every scraped knee, every failure and every success. Dean is the only one who speaks Sammish fluently, who knows his brother better than he knows himself. His heart swells with pride, seeing the man Sam had become, a man fighting the universe that has always been against him, a man that stood up for what he believed in and always struggling to do the right thing.
There's a lump forming in Dean's throat, Sammy's looking at him as though he knows what's running through Dean's head and perhaps he does, because the Winchester brothers were like joined at the heap.
He wants to spare the kid so much, he really does. But Death was right. Sammy will just try to get Dean back and if his death was a precaution, then there must be a way to bring Dean back from wherever he was going. Dean can't allow that even though the prospect of spending eternity all alone was already driving his mind crazy. Dean was always a do without question and worry later type of guy, so he doesn't dwell on it too much, lest he gave in to the panic.
'Close your eyes, Sammy' he says in a hard tone, tightening his grip on the scythe. Death stood calmly and looked on. He made many exceptions for the brothers in the past for his own amusement, but this moment was final.
The last thing Sam sees before closing his eyes is his brother swinging the scythe at him.