Moments
Summary: Life is a series of moments that you breathe through, unless they take your breath away. These are those moments for the Winchester brothers.
Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters of Supernatural
WINCEST Warning: (at some point because I am disturbed that way)
Please take the time to review if you are reading.
OOOOooooOOOO
The moment Dean realizes it's his job to protect his little brother (Dean is four, Sam is 6 months old)
Dean Winchester was a good boy and he loves his parents very much. So, when they put him to bed, he stayed there. Dean lay in his 'big boy' bed and listened to the settling noises in their old house, trying to make himself fall asleep, because he was a good boy, not naughty and not going to get up just because he heard a creaking sound that wasn't familiar. He hugged his teddy bear closer to himself and rolled to his side, his eyes flicking to the dimly lit hallway.
He lay there waiting for sleep to claim him, idly thinking of when his baby brother was bigger, he was gonna teach him how to throw a ball just like him, and Dean thought about how cool it was that he was always going to be the big brother, he liked the sound of that.
His saw his mother ghost past his open bedroom door, and in his state of near sleep, he thought she looked like an angel. With golden blonde hair, and a flowing white gown, she was walking quietly towards Sam's nursery, her footsteps barely a whisper along the carpet. Dean loved his mother, and wanted to get out of bed and follow her, but he was a good boy and so he stayed where he was.
He might have drifted off at some point, but it felt like the next moment when he is jerked awake by a strange smell, a bad omen like feeling clenching in his belly, a silent scream of something wrong instinctively shrieking in his mind, and despite the fact he is a good boy, he gets out of the bed, walking the path of the hallway like his mother had done only moments before.
Bursts of orange flames explode onto the ceiling directly in front of Sammy's nursery and Dean stops, frozen by fear in his tracks. Smoke is billowing out of the room and the fire is sucking the breath out of Dean's lungs faster than he can replace it.
His father's anguished voice somehow pierces through the whooshing sounds of the fire, screaming for his wife. Dean doesn't know what is happening, but words like danger, fire, family, are tumbling around his brain, trying to take hold. He barely registers his father standing in front of him with Sam in his arms.
Dean tries to focus on his father, because his father is yelling at him, his handsome face streaked with soot, sweat and tears, the ghost of his despair and heartbreak already taking up permanent residence in his features. His father reaches one hand out, shakes Dean's shoulder and says, "Dean, take your brother, NOW."
As if someone else were working his limbs like a puppet master, Dean put out his arms and the bundle of his brother is placed into them. He looks down into a pink face, and tries to catch his father's eye again, but strong hands are pushing him towards the stairs.
With Sam in his arms, Dean can suddenly be unfrozen, suddenly think, and he runs towards the stairs, not holding the railing as he flings himself and his brother down, although he is a good boy and always holds the railing on the stairs.
He doesn't remember getting the front door open, he is not allowed to open it usually, but his heart leaps that he did it all by himself and he races forward onto the lawn.
He sucks in lungfuls of fresh air greedily, clutching his brother to his chest as he falls to the grass. He turns and watches in horror and fascination as his house is almost completely engulfed in fire, the flames licking the sides of the upstairs windows, caressing the painted wood like a lover, as the sound of exploding windows fills the night air.
It seems like several minutes, but its only seconds that his father is running towards them, shouting GET DOWN as he covers his sons with his own body, shielding them as their home explodes from the pressure built up by the flames.
An hour later, Dean sits wrapped in an itchy gray army blanket, still grasping his baby brother in his arms, his no longer innocent eyes tracking every movement of his father as John speaks to the fire department.
Sam starts to squirm and Dean looks down at his baby brother, the wide hazel green eyes, almost too aware for a baby catching and locking with Dean's own, a small fist reaching towards him. Dean bends his head in, breathing deep and puts in his own forehead against Sam's.
"Its OK Sammy, we're OK, I am never going to let anything happen to you. I'm your big brother, always gonna protect you no matter what."
OOOOooooOOOO
This is the moment that Sam realizes he has the best big brother in the whole world (Dean is 8, Sam is 4)
They are in another nameless town, possibly outside of New Mexico if he heard his Daddy right, in another creepy dirty motel room.
Sam is on the worn carpet sitting crossed legged, a pile of worn legos surrounding him as he scrunches up his face, thinking hard about what he is going to build. He looks over at his big brother, sprawled on one of the beds, and finds himself smiling. Dean always looks so serious when he studies, frowning like his head hurt, while he did his 'rithmetic. (Sam doesn't know what this is, but Dean does it, so Sam can't wait until he can do it too).
Dean taps his pencil and his lips pull down in a frown and then he looks up to find Sam watching him.
"Whats up Squirt?" Sam doesn't mind so much that Dean calls him nicknames, because Dean is his older brother and always watches out for him. But, he is the little brother, so if he didn't pout about it, he wouldn't be doing his job .
"Don' call me that De," he says and looks back down at his legos, hoping his brother doesn't think he is a baby.
Dean moves to the end of the bed, dirty sneakers dangling off the end of his feet as he scoots closer to see what Sam is up to.
"Whats the matter, Sammy, you can't think of what to make with your legos?"
Sam isn't sure if that is what he is thinking, but yes, he guesses that is what is making him upset, so he nods looking down at the pile of faded plastic, wishing he could build a tall building, or maybe an airplane.
He mumbles to himself, "Wish I had more black ones, I could build the car." Sam's world is small, his brother, his father, the car, and random faces and places that he will never recall past the age of 10.
He hears Dean moving, but doesn't realize what he is up to until his brother suddenly is sitting crosslegged across from him, picking up a piece of lego.
"Well, how about we build the car, but give her a killer paint job Sammy, even better than black. There's a lot of blue and red pieces, we can make her the USA car,"cause that's the colors of the flag and all."
Dean grabbed more pieces, fitting them together with a click, and completely missed the beaming smile from his little brother. Nothing made Sam happier than Dean playing with him, nothing.
Sam got to work too, and while Dean created a semblance of a blue and red Impala, Sam built a garage for them to keep her in. They worked in silence, brothers so used to the other that they didn't need a lot of words to fill up the air.
Dean finished first and held the lego Impala up in front of his eyes, inspecting it for flaws.
"Whaddya think Sammy?" He looked over at his little brother, and saw Sam's eyes light up when he looked at Dean's finished work.
"Looks good, Dean," Sam replied, and held out his nearly finished garage for Dean to see. He loved the way Dean smiled when he spoke next.
"That's awesome Sammy, now she has a place to sleep when we aren't driving her around everywhere." Sam giggled at the idea of the Impala needing to nap, delighted with Dean's story, as Dean weaved a tale of the Impala being a superhero, and the garage Sam had built her was her "lair".
For the next long while, they just played and played, and Sam didn't know why, but he knew this was special. This moment, this time with his brother.
If you had asked him then, he would have said it could not have been more perfect, but he would have been proved wrong minutes later.
As Dean and Sam both winded the game down, neither able to think of anymore adventures for the Super Impala, there giggles subsiding, Sam's stomach let out a huge growl, and Dean laughed.
Sam looked down, not wanting to admit that he was hungry, even at four years old, he understood they didn't have much food, and he shouldn't ask for anything. As it was, he had eaten the candy bar that Dad had bought him before leaving to go do some research at the local library.
He fiddled with a piece of lego absently, wishing he hadn't eaten the whole chocolate bar at once, when suddenly he saw Dean's outstretched hand. In it was a peanut butter cup.
"Here ya go Sammy," Dean said with a small grin at his brother.
Sam shook his head, he didn't want to take what was Dean's, but Dean pushed it at him more insistently and said, "Really, just take it, I am full already."
And at four years old, Sam knew that was a lie, because they were NEVER full, or at least not often enough, but he took it from his brother's hand because he could see Dean really wanted him too.
Sam knew at four what he would know for the rest of his life. Dean was the best big brother in the whole world.
OOOOooooOOOO
I have never written weechesters, so I hope this doesn't suck If it does, and you want to tell me so, be gentle