AN: Hey guys! Decided to take a break from the wonderful world of Doctor Who fanfiction and write a little Supernatural one-shot! (All my hunters in the club, can I get a WHAT-WHAT?!) Anyway, imma just let my creative juice flow! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I really do read them! Here you go!
Glass Shards
Dean would never admit it (if you asked), but Sam is his everything. Ever since Dad died and they've been hunting the yellow-eyed bastard alone, Dean realized that if Sam were to ever leave him or die, he might cease to breathe as well.
So when Sam's knees hit the gravelly dirt road, Dean could only scream, "NO!" and rush to his side. Sam's head started lolling to the side, a dribble of blood escaping his mouth to rush down his chin. Dean grasped his shirt in one hand, his face in the other.
"No, Sam!" Dean pleaded, trying to keep his little brother's attention on him. Sam collapsed further into Dean. From his angle, the older hunter could see the large, deep red coat of blood on Sam's jacket. "Let me look at you." Sam was still unresponsive.
As Dean pressed a shaking hand to Sam's back, he realized just how much blood was seeping out of his brother's wound. He pushed Sam back so he could look at his face again, anything but the blood. "Hey, look at me," Dean tried to get Sam to focus on him, focus on anything.
"It's not even that bad." Dean was reassuring himself more than anyone. Sam's eyes turned cloudy. "SAM!" Dean shouted, trying desperately to keep his little brother's eyes from closing. "Hey! Listen to me! We're gonna patch you up, okay?" Dean was staring intently at Sam's tired and pained expression. His breathing was starting to slow down. Dean could feel his heart fluttering weakly, like a butterfly with broken wings, under his palm.
"You'll be good as new," Dean continued. He could feel the beginnings of tears prick his eyes, but he didn't care. All he cared about right now was keeping his brother alive. "I'm gonna take care of you!" Dean shouted in frustration. "I got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother." Dean could tell Sam was close to the end. His chest rattled with painful breaths. Then, in the agonizing sound of troubled breathing stopped.
"Sam?" Dean's voice was quiet, filled with pain and sorrow. "Sam." Dean felt the word keep spilling out, knowing that his little brother would never hear him repeat the name. He clutched Sam's hair, shirt, and arms, supporting himself, and his deceased brother. "No, no, no, no, no." Dean felt desperation enter his blood stream. Sam can't be dead. Sam is all he has left.
"Oh God," Dean cried. If there was a God, he wouldn't have let this happen. But even Dean's rage was covered by the sorrow and loneliness he was feeling. He shook all over, the tears threatening to spill.
He cried out his brother's name one more time. "Sam!"
The world shattered, and Dean could feel each and every glass shard pierce his heart with the ferocity of a lion. Yet Dean was still alive, while Sam lay dead in his arms.
He shook with controlled misery and rage until he finally let a single tear trace a shiny pattern down his face.
Solitary, just like he is now.