A/N This was completely unplanned. I was just sitting here, at work, and suddenly, I was typing away. This is pretty much stream of consciousness people, so if it sounds weird, blame in on my screwed up brain.
Kripke's the man, I'm just a lowly writer who can't keep away from her keyboard. The boys are just too much fun to play with, I can't help myself. Sadly, nothing's mine.
He wasn't crazy. Of that, he was sure, but the pain that ripped through him, the waves of it crashing against walls he'd spent all of his life erecting, might just turn him into something he wasn't. Something he'd spent more years hunting then most other hunters did. Something even the monsters he was after would be afraid of.
A year ago, his father told him to watch out for a baby brother he'd spent years protecting, told him that if the baby he could still feel in his arms was to go evil, he'd have to snuff out the one thing he'd loved above everything else. A life he cherished more than his own, more than the world he stood guard over.
That life was now gone, and the protector who'd failed to do his job was on the verge of becoming the evil his father had warned him against. The same evil he'd spent his life fighting, A senseless killer, a monster without conscience, because that conscience, that reason for living was now lying dead on a dirty mattress.
The one thing for which he'd fought, for which he'd wanted to keep the world safe, was dead and without it, Dean knew the training he'd received since he'd been four years old would take over. The things he'd seen, the things he'd done would finally overtake a mind now broken by loss and pain. A mind once so strong and now empty of anything but rage and revenge.
The perfect warrior would turn into the perfect killer. The tower of strength, of courage and self-sacrifice would crumble into a desert of broken memories. The hardening that had begun in the second his mother turned into a raging inferno would finally break him.
Somewhere in his grief-stricken mind, Dean knew that he couldn't let himself go, that something of his upbringing was still in him and that to go on the warpath would destroy everything he'd fought for during all his life.
Suddenly, like the lightning striking in the desert, an idea appeared, fully formed. There was one way, one desperate, foolish solution to this. He would not live in a world without his baby brother.
End Notes: Kind of bad, I know. I just couldn't stop myself from writing it. I swear the next chapter of Fire and Ice is coming soon, and it should be better than this one. I hope.