Protecting Dean (Sam/Dean ficlet)
a/n: Holy crap I can't come up with titles to save my soul *facepalms*
Instinct kicks in, screaming in his body, to move, kick, punch…to protect, to save.
It’s simple, really. Nothing, no one can hurt Dean under his watch. That just can’t happen. Not again, not ever. Not if he can help it.
He doesn’t care whether it’s a lame ghost, a vampire, a fugitive archangel, the devil, God Himself…or a bitch wearing their mother’s face.
He doesn’t remember a lot of when he was soulless. Of all the things he remember, though, there is one that keeps coming back, unexpectedly: Dean in an alley, his mouth smeared with blood, his shoulders sagged, his voice, hoarse and scared whispering, “Get away from me, Sammy…”
He wasn’t his Sammy when it happened. He was the son of a bitch that let him turn. His body even remembers the smile he had smiled in that moment. The wrongness of that gesture leaves his heart racing, whenever he remember, whenever he has flashes of Dean’s face, of the fear in him.
He’s scared for Dean, now. He’s scared because he knows he’s plotting something, he knows he’s playing with fire…because it’s the way Dean hunts, it’s the way he has chosen to live his life.
He’s scared…and proud of him. He wants to tear that diner apart, wants to take Dean away, out of Eve’s grasp, out of the mindfuck she’s playing on him…but, at the same time, he’s in awe with Dean.
His brother, his protector, the best hunter he had ever me, his better half.
He’ll protect him, even from himself if he has to.