"The world breaks everyone and afterward some are strong at the broken places." -Ernest Hemingway
Dean found the quote tucked away in one of his school textbooks. It was scribbled carelessly across a torn strip of paper and hidden away in the dark, left for some future day or perhaps forgotten in an end of the year rush for summer break. A lot like himself: torn and tattered and forgotten.
The eleven year old boy slipped the paper into his pocket: Sammy would like the paper, even though he could barely read. It would be added to his small box of papers and mementos from homes long left to the wind.
A few hours, several paper airplanes and one schoolyard scuffle later, Dean was on his way to the Elementary school a few blocks away. Seven year old Sam sat alone on the front steps squinting down at a piece of paper clutched in his hands.
"Come on, Sammy!" Dean called from the street and Sam's head shot up as he got to his feet and bounded down the steps to his older brother.
Dean reached his hand out for the paper now at Sam's side, "Whatcha got there?"
The younger Winchester boy held the paper up to his brother, "It's for dad. My teacher said to have him sign it so I can go on the field trip next week."
Dean's heart sunk into his stomach. The likelihood of John Winchester being home any time in the next week was very slim. They'd been here for two weeks, with John home all that time. The wall had grown increasingly more plastered: case files, newspaper cutouts and pages printed from the internet covered every inch of the walls. The Do Not Disturb sign became a part of the small room's door and several hundred dollars passed from the father into the motel owner's greasy hands in exchange for what John called "excess privacy". But the day before, John had made a breakthrough. He grabbed the keys to the Impala, a couple of beers from the mini fridge and left Dean with his standard parting sentiment: a couple hundred dollars in food money and a gruff, "Watch out for Sammy."
If Dean was sure of anything in his unusual lifestyle it was the knowledge that when his father left on a hunt he wouldn't be back for, at the very least, five days
That gave the two Winchester boys four more days until they started to wonder if their dad was actually coming back.
Dean forced a shaky smile onto his face as he handed the permission slip back to Sam and said in a noncommittal voice, "Sounds fun, Sammy."
"But I told her that dad probably wouldn't be home."
Startled, Dean looked down at the top of his brother's dark head. Sometimes his brother surprised him with his seven year old wisdom, "Oh yeah? What did she say to that?"
Sam looked up with wide eyes, "She told me to have my mom sign it instead."
Dean stopped walking and looked down at his brother again, "And what did you say to that?"
Realizing his brother was no longer beside him, Sam stopped and turned around, "I didn't say anything. I don't have to go on the field trip. It's okay."
Dean fell back into step with his brother, "If Dad doesn't show before it's due I'll just forge it for you. How does that sound?"
Sam didn't say anything and they walked towards the hotel in silence.
As they passed the 7/11 someone called, "Hey! Dean!"
Both brothers paused in their walking and turned toward the voice. They saw a perky blonde girl waving them down, her blinding smile could be seen across the parking lot.
Dean gave a halfhearted wave back to the girl as she looked both ways before running across the parking lot.
"Hi." The blonde girl smiles breathlessly, stopping in front of the two boys.
"Hey..." Dean trails off. The girl looks familiar, but he can't place her name.
For a moment the girl looks slightly hurt that he can't seem to remember her name and she points to herself, "It's June. I sit next to you in English."
"Oh... Yeah, yeah," Dean nods his head rapidly, "Hey, June."
Her smile is back, brighter than ever as suddenly she notices the small boy standing next to Dean.
"Who's this?" she asks.
Dean looks down and ruffles his brother's dark hair, "This is my little brother Sammy."
June leans down to the young boy's level, "Hi, Sammy." She holds out her hand, smiling.
Sam doesn't reach for her outstretched hand.
He replies with a frown, "Only Dean calls me that."
"Oh," The girl looks up at Dean in surprise and he nudges his brother's shoulder with his elbow.
"Hey, Sam. Be nice."
Sam turned his brown eyes up to his brother who gave him a warning look before he turned his eyes back to his shoes and didn't reply.
Dean turned back to the pretty girl in front of him, "Sorry about Sam. We don't really talk to a lot of people."
June shook her head, her smile was back, "No. Really it's fine. I was just wondering what you guys were doing walking around this side of town."
Dean brought his arm up to scratch the back of his neck as he replied, "We were just on our way to visit our grandparents. They live a couple of blocks over. What is a pretty girl like yourself doing out here?"
Sam watched mesmerized as the girl twisted a long lock of golden hair around her index finger. It twisted up and then untwisted and twisted the other direction as her cheeks blushed red.
"My parents stopped to get gas on the way home from school." She pointed back at a large white SUV at one of the pumps. A man who Dean assumed was June's father waved at them as he returned the nozzle and climbed back into his car.
Dean waved back as June continued, "Do you need a ride to your grandparents' house? We would be glad to take you there."
"No, really it's okay. It's just a block over. We'll be fine." He shook his head swiftly as he replied.
June reached out her hand to touch Dean's shoulder, "Really, Dean, it would be no trouble."
The panicked boy continued to shake his head, "It's okay. Thank you though."
The girl pouted slightly, "Well, if you're sure..."
Both Sam and Dean nodded quickly, "Absolutely. We'll be fine. I'll see you in English tomorrow, June." And with that they began to walk away, leaving June behind.
"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow!" The girl called after them.
When the white SUV had pulled away Dean turned to Sam, "Well, that was a close one wasn't it, Sammy?"
Sam nodded vigorously and they turned into the motel lot. The older brother produced a key from his pocket, and they entered room 112. Everything looked exactly the same as it had when they left that morning. All the papers still coated the walls, the Do Not Disturb sign still hung on the doorknob. Dean grabbed the shotgun leaning against the wall by the door,
"Stay right there, Sammy."
Sam did as he was told and stayed still as Dean checked the entirety of the room: under the beds, in the closet and the bathroom, making sure there were no intruders.
"Looks good." Was Sam's signal to move again. The young Winchester swung his backpack off of his shoulder and plopped it on the bed. He unzipped it to reveal a notebook and a binder with a few papers in it. Sam pulled out a paper and a pencil, getting started on his homework right away.
Dean groaned as he flopped down on the opposite bed, "Ah, Sammy! Why d'you gotta do your homework? We're only gonna be here for another two weeks, tops. It doesn't matter if you get good grades or not."
Sam didn't answer, his tongue stuck out between his lips as he concentrated on copying the sentence printed on the page in front of him. Dean watched his brother struggle to write for a little bit before he sighed.
"Well, if you're gonna do your homework do you at least need any help?" He stood and crossed over to his brother's bed and knelt down next to him, studying the page.
Sam shook his head, continuing to trace out messy letters on the straight lines.
"Aw come on Sam! I'm your big brother, that's my job!"
Sam shook his head again, "No, Dean! I wanna learn to do it by myself."
Dean raised his hands in surrender and retreated to his bed, "Fine. Do it yourself. What do I care?"
As he sat down on his bed he felt something crumble in his pocket and he remembered the paper stashed away.
He stood and perched himself on the edge of Sam's bed and retrieved the paper from his pocket.
"Oh yeah, Sammy," he held the page out to his brother who eagerly accepted the gift, "I forgot. I found this for you today."
"What's it say, Dean?" Sammy asked as he examined the crumpled present, delighted.
Dean shook his head and ruffled his brother's dark hair, "Come on, Sammy, you know how to read."
Sam ducked out from underneath his brothers hand and retreated a few feet away, "Not good."
The older brother just laughed, "You'll figure it out someday."
Sam carefully folded the paper and peered over the side of the bed, reaching for the box he had hidden there when they first arrived in the motel. He opened the lid and placed the paper on top of the pile already collected on the bottom.
Of course it was only a few months before Sam could read the words written on the page. But as time went on it wore hard on the Winchester boy. The world broke him in ways he couldn't have ever imagined, and he never saw the strength in his broken places.
"Dean, I can't hold him for much longer! Just do it!"
Lucifer had been right.
No matter what choices they had made it had still led them to this moment.
The Croatoan virus. Graceless Cas. Lucifer Sam.
They all realized it had been futile to try and fight it.
But now was the glimmer of hope. Sam had gained some semblance of control over the fallen angel inside of him and it was time to end this.
"Dean you have to kill me there is no other way! We can't let him get away!"
Dean stood before him, eyes wild, "No! I won't! Sam, please don't make me do this!"
"Dean!" Sam doubled over in pain, this mind control was starting to take it's toll on the Winchester boy. They didn't have much time, "You have to do this! It's okay, Dean. Just do it. Please."
The pain was reaching a peak. It wasn't long now.
"Dean! Do it now!"
The older brother's voice came out in a whisper, "I'm sorry, Sammy."
The shot rang out. The gun was a specialty: discovered and located from directions on the angel tablet. A mixture between the grace of angel blades and the runes of the Colt. It was the only possibility to kill the devil.
It worked.
"Sam!" Dean's voice was quiet, the last thing Sam heard before the world around him went dark with a smile.
"What does it say, Dean?" Sam's seven year old voice filled the room.
Eleven year old Dean stood and crossed the room, making himself comfortable against the pillows on the motel bed. When he was thoroughly satisfied he patted the bed next to him, gesturing for his little brother to sit next to him.
"Here, I'll read it to you."
Sammy laid himself next to his brother and handed him the paper containing the quote that Sam came to despise so thoroughly.
"It says: The world breaks everyone and afterward some are strong at the broken places."
"I don't know what that means," Young Sam admitted sheepishly.
Dean smiled sadly at his brother, "After all these years, Sammy and you still don't know?"
Young Sam looked up at his beloved brother as he sat on the bed beside him.
"It was you, Sammy. The world broke you so many times it didn't seem like you could ever put yourself together again: Ruby, Lucifer, The Apocalypse. But every time you just gonna kept going. It may have taken you a few tries but you always got back on your feet.."
Young Sam shook his head, "I was never strong like you, Dean."
Dean let out a derisive half snort, "Sammy, how can you still not see it when everyone around you can?"
Sam dropped his head in defeat, but Dean placed a steady hand on his shoulder,
"Strength isn't being infallible, Sammy. It's getting up every time you fall down. Strength is admitting you did something wrong and trying to fix it."
When Sam looked up, it was no longer Dean sitting beside him, it was Bobby.
"Bobby?" The young boy asked in disbelief, tears of shame welling up in his eyes, "Bobby, I couldn't do it. I said yes to him! Thousands of people died because I was weak!"
Bobby shook his head and gathered the sobbing boy into his arms, "No. Shh... This isn't your fault, boy. The fate of the world does not rest on your head. But Sam,"
He held the trembling boy at arm's length, "I'm so proud of you, son."
Sam shook his head in denial, "There's nothing to be proud of."
"Nothin' to be proud of?!" A fire lit in Bobby's eyes, "There's eveythin' to be proud of! Look here, boy! Do you see what you've grown up to be? You survived in the pit with Lucifer! At every turn you've drawn the short stick and you've made the best of it! You became a Man of Letters! You kept your idiot brother in line! Sam. There's no one in this world that I am more proud of."
"Yeah.. but,"
Bobby cut across him, "But nothing! You listen to me Sam Winchester. There are many things in this world that you were not perfect at. No one is. But you've saved thousands of lives and put away legions of bad guys in the process. You are a hero. Don't even try to tell yourself differently."
And suddenly, Bobby was gone. In his place sat a woman with golden hair and a kind smile.
Seven year old Sam Winchester began to cry, "Mommy?"
Mary Winchester laid on the bed with her song gathered against her side, "Baby, it's okay. I'm here."
"Hey Jude. Don't make it bad.
Take a sad song, and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better."
Slowly Sam's sobs began to fade away and his mother finished her lullaby.
"Mommy?" Sam's small voice asked.
"Yes sweetheart?" Mary stroked her son's dark hair for the first time, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Are you proud of me?" His voice cracked as he asked.
Mary's flow of tears thickened and her voice choked as she answered, "Of course. How could I not be?"
Sam didn't answer for a while.
Eventually he asked again, "Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Will you be with me if I go?"
"Forever, darling."
The scene began to dissolve as Sam Winchester began to fade and as he let go, the world faded to black.