A/N: Hi everyone, and welcome to another chapter! I don't know about all of you, but the walls are starting to close in a little bit here. I'm doing my best to keep busy but damn this quarantine thing is hard! Anyway, I hope all of you are doing well! Thanks to waitingforAslan, tyrsibs, Colby's girl, SammysGirl42, and shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for leaving reviews that helped break up the monotony of the week!

This chapter is tagged to the season 10 finale, 10x23, Brother's Keeper. Honestly, I feel like this chapter is a little messy, but I hope you all like it. I just didn't know where to go with it since it's one of my favourite season finales and it's nearly flawless. Anyway, please leave me a review to let me know what you thought and how I could have improved it.

Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable belongs to me.


Protective Instincts

The first time Dean uttered those words, his voice was raspy with smoke inhalation and they would be the last words he would speak in months.

The Lawrence Kansas Fire Department had recommended a motel close by for the remaining Winchesters to get some rest. As much as John hadn't wanted to go, one sympathetic Lieutenant had urged him to remember his children, so John had taken them over to the motel, the first of many, as it would turn out.

It was nothing fancy, but fancier than what would become their typical living arrangements. John had deposited Dean into one bed, and Sam into the crib that had been requested with the front desk.

Dean remembered three things from that motel room stay.

One, his father sitting at the edge of his bed, the bed closest to the door, and weeping.

Two, the weird brown stain on the ceiling that was almost resembled the state of Texas. Dean remembered it because he spent all night staring at it.

Three, Sam whimpering in the crib that was located next to Dean's bed. John never moved to comfort his infant son, either because he didn't have it in him to care or, Dean hoped, because he couldn't hear Sam's cries over his own. Therefore, Dean took it upon himself to comfort his brother. He leaned over the side of his crib, the way he had only a few short hours before, and ran a hand over Sam's downy baby hair.

"Shhh, Sammy…" he whispered. Sam's whimpers quieted and his baby blues locked onto his big brother. "It's okay, Sammy. Close your eyes…"


The first time the Winchesters hunted a Wendigo together, things went to hell fairly quickly, as they often did. 11-year-old Sam and 15-year-old Dean got separated from John in the middle of the woods at midnight and, of course, the damn monster went after the younger prey instead of the older, tougher target.

The fugly beast took Sam down first and seemed content with getting one prize instead of two, so it started dragging Sam away.

Dean fought like hell to keep Sam with him, grappling in the dark for his brother's hand as well as his flare gun. Unfortunately, the Wendigo was quite a bit stronger than Dean, so he quickly lost that fight.

Running purely on instinct, he dove for his flare gun, tossed away in his panic to get to Sam, and yelled a quick "Close your eyes, Sammy!" before firing the gun at the Wendigo.

In the end, Sam suffered a few third-degree burns on his ankle, Dean got a good wallop from his Dad for letting things get so bad, the fugly died, and they moved the next day so nobody asked about Sam's injuries.


There were multiple events that had gone down in the Winchesters' lives that Sam didn't know about, either by nature or by design.

For example, decades went by before Sam learned that his brother was the one who carried him out of the fire that fateful night. Sam himself was too young to remember that painful night. John never spoke about it. Dean, well, he wasn't about to tell his brother about the memory that was simultaneously his proudest moment and his most painful moment. For that was the night when Dean had decided to put his brother before everything else. Sam came before hunting, before school, before Dad, and, that night, before Mom.

For the rest of his life, Dean Winchester put little Sammy above it all.

When baby Sam accidentally broke John's old pocket-watch, Dean took the fall. He was 6 years old after all, and Sam was only 2. How was he supposed to know that the shiny gold thing left on a motel room floor wasn't a toy? But Dean didn't say any of that to his father. No, he stood there, shaking like a leaf, and told his father that he had stepped on it accidentally. It was the first time he had ever taken a spanking in Sam's place, but he never regretted it. Sure, hindsight was 20/20, and adult Dean hoped that John would have sparred the toddler, but he knew he had done the right thing at the time. Mom had always said that it was a big brother's job to look out for their little brother, and that's what he was going to do.

And he continued doing it. Stepping up to John in Sam's place. Taking on schoolyard bullies that were three times Sam's size and twice his. Pulling stupid stunts on hunts and getting himself hurt because he was trying to draw the fugly away from Sam.

Sam didn't know that Dean left Sonny's so that he could take care of him.

Sam had no clue that Dean had almost up and left Lisa's a half-dozen times, despite his promise that he wouldn't go poking the cage to try to rescue Sam.

The bottom line was this: Sam Winchester knew how much his brother loved him. He did. And he loved him back just as fiercely. However, despite that love, Sam still didn't know just how far his brother would go to keep him safe. He didn't understand that some things weren't just skin deep, or even bone deep. Dean's protective instincts were a part of him at a subatomic level. Not even the Mark of Cain could defeat them.

It was why Dean had an uncomfortable sit down with Death. Dean couldn't trust himself anymore. After what he had done to Rudy, to Cas, how could he trust himself around his brother? After the things he had already said and done to him in the past, it was a no brainer. Dean Winchester had to take himself off the board. For good, this time.

And maybe the Mark was warping his Spidey-senses, but he was trying to do what was best for everyone. Sam wouldn't have to live with the guilt of Charlie's death or losing his brother, and Dean…well, Dean wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again.

Sure, Cain had warned him that Sam's death would be the one he wouldn't be able to come back from, but he felt like he had no choice. Maybe he was still trapped behind a wall of fire in his mind, or maybe the Mark had finally taken over, but he knew this was something he had to do.

That is, until he saw Sam kneeling in front of him, bruises blooming on his cheekbone and temple, tears pooling in his eyes.

Those tears tempered that ring of fire that had been keeping Dean trapped in his own mind. He felt something crack in his chest at the very thought of what he was going to do. He didn't know if he could go through with this…

He looked back at Sam, knowing he didn't have a choice. He was already holding Death's scythe, and Dean refused to damn the world. He was too dangerous. They were too dangerous. Sam looked up at him with those damn understanding eyes and gave him a small nod.

"Close your eyes," Dean murmured as gently as he could.

A single tear broke free and streamed down Sam's injured cheek as he continued to look up at Dean.

Dean choked on the words. "Sammy, close your eyes."

Sam took a deep breath. "Wait."

He reached into his jacket and took out a few photos, placing them on the ground.

"Take these. And one day, when you find your way back…Let these be your guide. And they can help you remember what it was to be good…what it was to love."

Dean looked down at the photos and felt that thing in his chest fracture even further. In one picture, Dean was cuddled close to his mother. The other was the only photo Dean had of him, his Mom and Sam.

Staring down at that picture of baby Sam, Dean couldn't help but think of all the times he had protected Sam. From his father, from monsters, from the world. Even from himself. How could he even think of killing Sam? Even if it was to protect the entire damn world, Sam came before everything. And here he was, about to go through with some ageless Horseman's plan to kill his baby brother.

"It's for family you must proceed, Dean," Death commanded, standing behind him, as though he could sense his hesitation. Dean didn't need that reminder. He was a guy who did everything for family. His family was everything to him. His entire world. "To be what you are, to become what you've become is a stain on their memory. Do it. Or I will."

And that there was the last straw. Dean Winchester was a man who didn't do well when his family was threatened, even was he was the one doing the threatening. But to have Death itself threaten to take Sam away from him, that was it.

Dean looked at Sam with anguish in his eyes. Would Sam understand? Would Sam even trust him after he lured him here to kill him? Sam, who had been willing to sacrifice everything to close the Gates of Hell, would he understand why Dean just couldn't go through with it?

Sam sighed deeply in response to Dean's gaze and nodded reassuringly, completely misreading the situation.

"Forgive me."

Dean, who never missed a shot or a swing, swung wide and impaled Death on his own scythe. At that moment, Dean had made a decision. He couldn't deny decades of protective instincts. Nobody was going to be killing his little brother, least of all him.


A/N: Like I said in the first Author's Note, I feel like this chapter was pretty messy but I hope you all liked it anyway. I'll see you at some point this week with another chapter! Much love and stay safe!