Sam always takes. This time it's Dean turn. One shot. First season.
Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. I don't even own this computer. The boys belong to the WB and everyone else.
AN: Another one shot. This one's a little dark. Second season.
Take
It's a Tuesday when Dean takes a knife in the side. The day had been overcast but now, in the moonlight, the clouds had dispersed unveiling the brightest stars the hunter had ever seen. So as he lay under those stars he felt at peace. Peaceful enough to die. Dean knew he was—dying that is. Sure, leaving Sam would suck. And he'd miss the big fight too. But that was ok because dad would be there and he wasn't really needed anyway.
Suddenly the sky was gone, replaced by Sammy's head. And that was fine too because dying looking at the one thing he ever felt he did right seemed fitting. But that Sam had to see him go was unfair. Although his little brother was fighting the inevitable pretty vigorously. "Dean! Dean stay with me. I need you to stay wake—I need you!"
And wasn't that always the way. Sammy needs. Dean gives. But this time Dean needed. And for once in his life he took.
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