With You All The Way (Supernatural)
Title: With You All The Way
Author: Kate (deanscookie)
Rating: PG
Category: Gen
Word Count: 2,254
Spoilers: Up to 1.14 Nightmare.
Summary: Dean drives and muses on how much his little brother means to him.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns it all. Lucky bastard.
Notes: Dean's musings about women are a little off, according to Route 666, but I've decided that Cassie does not exist in my little corner of the world.
"WITH YOU ALL THE WAY"
Dean remembers his exact words to his little brother.
"Look, it sucks, but in a job like this you can't get close to people. Period."
Dean adjusted his grip on the Impala's steering wheel and wondered if he was the biggest hypocrite on the face of the earth. He could give Sam very good advice sometimes, he just wished he would follow it himself. Getting close to people was dangerous in their line of work, for both the people they cared about and themselves. Dean knew this, so he didn't form any attachments to anyone.
Especially to women. That was one thing Dean swore he would never do. One night stands, a little flirting with them, that's all good. He just didn't get close, didn't find out anything but their names. He would never care for a girl that way, just to risk her to the same fate as his mother and Jessica. Dean believed his family was cursed, that the women they loved were all targeted by the evil thing that had killed Mary Winchester 22 years ago, and Jessica only a few months ago.
So Dean stayed away, separated himself from everyone but his dad and his brother. He thought he was safe that way, thought that everyone was safe that way.
He was wrong. He was so desperately attached to Sammy, he didn't know what he'd do if he lost him.
Dean glanced at his baby brother asleep in the seat next to him. He didn't care if Sam was four inches taller, he would always be Dean's baby brother. Dean focused his attention back on the road as he thought about Sam. He really wasn't cut out for this life. Sure, he had the skills, just as Dean had; but he lacked the spirit. Sam was a gentle, passive, spirit. He was fragile and tender; Sam defined the phrase "made to be broken". Sam wasn't as tough as he appeared to be, and Dean was only one who really knew that.
Dean was the complete opposite. Dean was born a fighter, born to hunt down the monsters that crept around at night. He wasn't like Sam, he didn't take it all home with him, he could kill the freakin' demon and forget about it. Not have nightmares for days afterward. Dean hated the nightmares that tormented his brother. Mostly because it was something he couldn't protect Sam from. He had always been there to protect his brother from everything that hurt him; these nightmares were hurting him something awful, and there was nothing Dean could do.
Dean looked back over at Sam. His eyes were rolling behind his eyelids. Dean recognized it. Sam wasn't having a nightmare, but one of his premonition dreams. Dean was getting used to them, and could even tell the difference between them. When Sam was having a nightmare he thrashed and moaned, it tore Dean apart every time. He was always tempted to wake Sam up, but he knew if his brother didn't face his fears he would never be rid of them. So he always waited for Sam to wake up, and he made sure he was always right there beside Sam when he did wake. Always made sure he was there to reassure him, to let him know that he wouldn't let anything happen to him.
When Sam was having one of his visions, though, he never moved. He laid there, stiff as a board, breathing shallow and panicked, eyes moving furiously behind closed lids. Dean didn't know which was worse; the nightmares or the visions. He couldn't protect his brother from either, so he tried to put them in the same category. So that there was only one thing he couldn't save Sam from, not two. It made him feel slightly better about it all. Slightly.
Dean sat back in the seat and thought about a time when he and Sam were kids. Sam was about eight at the time, which meant Dean was somewhere along the lines of twelve. Both of them already black belts, Dean was a crack shot with any type of gun, and Sam was the best bow hunter in the county. The sport he never wanted to learn. Dean could drive the Impala in his sleep, so he let himself drift away for a little while, remembering that night so many years ago.
The door to Dean's bedroom opened slowly with a quiet squeak. Dean was instantly awake, reaching under his pillow for his pistol. He cracked one eye open and immediately relaxed; it was only Sam.
"Sammy?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
Sam stood fidgeting, looking down at his feet. He said nothing.
"Sam," Dean said, this time with a more commanding tone, "what's wrong?"
"I had another nightmare," Sam whispered to his feet.
Dean gave a small sigh. Dean had told Sam a thousand times that he hated when he came into his rom in the middle of the night, wanting to sleep with him. And he knew Sam tried to be brave about it, but...
"C'mon, Sammy," Dean said, "it's just a nightmare, it's not real, okay?" He sat up and looked at his brother. "You'll be just fine in your own room, in your own bed. Mine's too small for us both, I've told you that a thousand times."
Sam met his gaze and Dean saw the tears shining in his eyes. His sighed again and lifted the edge of his blanket. "All right, climb up here."
Sam scrambled under the covers and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, burying his head in Dean's chest. He was shaking and Dean could feel the cold sweat on his back through his thin t-shirt.
"Hey," he said softly, "it's okay. Whatever it was, I won't let it get you, okay? I'll protect you, no matter what, I swear." Sam only nodded, face sill pressed against Dean. Dean started scratching Sam's back, a trick that had put him to sleep ever since he was a baby. This was one of Dean's rare moments of tenderness. Usually when Sam crawled into his bed, he rolled over and went back to sleep, letting Sam cuddle up to his back. But not when he was this upset, he had to take of his little brother.
Dean sighed as he slowly came back the present. Their father never knew that Sam sometimes slept with Dean, Dean always took him back to his room before their father woke up. He had always thought his brother was kind of wimpy for having so many nightmares. Now he realized that Sam may have been dreaming of real things. People really getting hurt by the things that go bump in the night.
The thought made Dean shudder slightly, he didn't want his little brother seeing things in his nightmares that Dean saw in real life. No one should have to see those things, and especially not Sam. Sam deserved his normal life, and Dean would have gladly given it to him if he had not been so afraid. Afraid that if he left Sam go, didn't protect him, he would get hurt. His father felt the same way. But they both knew they wouldn't be able to hold him forever, so they taught him everything they could to protect himself. And they checked on him constantly, not a month went by when one of them didn't stop by Stanford at least once, to make sure he was okay. Once, Dean snuck up to his apartment door and put the most powerful protection charm he knew on it. It didn't ease his mind in any way, but he thought, better safe than sorry.
It was Dean's responsibility to take care of Sam, his father had given that responsibility when he was four years old. The moment he had placed baby Sammy in his arms Dean knew that it was his job to make sure nothing happened to him. Dean knew this, and it didn't bother him, protecting his little brother, but things were different now. It was more than protecting Sammy, it was leading him. Because, even though Sam would never admit it, Dean was the leader. When they were in a jam Sam always looked to Dean, the silent question in his eyes, what do we do now? And the faith and trust in his eyes, knowing without doubt that Dean will get them out of this alive.
But lately, as the calls got closer, Dean really wished his father were there to tell him what to do. And the resentment started to creep in. He was angry at his father for putting him in this situation, for making him hold both his and Sam's lives in his hands at every job. He'd never be able to live with himself if one of his decisions got Sam killed, and he didn't know who would take care of Sam if he died. If his father were here then it wouldn't be Dean's decision, it wouldn't be his burden.
And when he got to this point in his line of thought, Dean began to resent himself. Their father had enough on his plate without having to worry about his sons, they should be able to take care of themselves by now. Dad has so much to deal with, Dean should at least be able to take of himself and Sam. And so he pushed the resentment away, told himself that his dad must be staying away for a good reason, refused to think that something may have happened to him, and concentrated on taking care of his baby brother.
Dean knows that this is how it will always be. He always have to watch out for Sam, with or without their father around. It's always been this way, and it always will be. Dean glanced over at Sam, still trapped in his precognitive state, and thought about Sam's first hunt. Dean had been fiercly opposed to idea of taking his fourteen year old brother on a werewolf hunt, and he had been right too. Sam had almost died, and if Dean hadn't been there to protect him, he would have.
Sam made a small noise from where he was laying back in the seat next to Dean. Dean looked quickly over at him, Sam's face was shining with a thin layer of sweat. Dean knew what that meant, Sam would be awake soon, sitting straight up in the seat and gasping for air as if he'd just run a marathon. Dean shook his head quickly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He was still dumbfounded by how affected he was by the man in the seat next to him.
Sometimes Dean entertained the thought of telling Sam how much he cared. He wondered what Sam would do if one Dean just told him, flat out 'I love you'. But then, he knew what would happen. Sam would get all choked up, tell him he loved him too, and then want to hug and all kinds of crap. Dean rolled his eyes at thought. Most guys would just give you a slap on the back, say 'yeah, me too' and let it go. Not Sam, he'd turn the whole thing into one big chick-flick moment. Dean didn't do that stuff. It was easier just to save Sam's butt every gig. Sam knew Dean loved him, he didn't have to say it.
Then, just as Dean knew it would happen, Sam sat straight up in his seat, gasping for air as if he'd just run a marathon. Sam dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his temples lightly. He was trembling and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. Dean took this as his cue.
"Dude, you okay?"
Sam took a deep breath and leaned back against his seat, closing his eyes. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
Dean nodded and focused on the road. "So, where to?"
Sam looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"Where are we going?" Dean asked. Sam still looked slightly confused. "Your dream, Sam. What happened, where do we need go?"
"How did you it was a premonition dream?" Sam tone was shocked.
"'Cause I'm psychic," Dean said jokingly.
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Dean..."
Dean shifted in his seat. "You're different when you're having a vision."
"What?"
"You act different, in your sleep."
"Different from what?"
"From the nightmares."
"Oh."
Dean glanced over at his brother, Sam was frowning at the dashboard. Dean felt a twinge of concern.
"Hey, man, are you sure you're all right?"
Sam looked over at him and gave him a small smile. Dean's insides twisted; what wouldn't he give to see Sam smile all the way. Happy and carefree, like when they were kids.
"Yeah," Sam said. "I'm sure."
"Okay," Dean looked back out at the endless expanse of road in front of them. "So, where to, o mighty seer?"
Sam chuckled softly and pulled the maps out from under his seat. Dean wanted to hear Sam laugh out loud, wanted his brother to be happy again, to sing in the shower like he always used to. But Sam needed to heal, and healing took time. And that was okay, because Dean was patient, and he was going to give Sammy all the time he needed. Because, no matter what, Dean would always take care of his baby brother.
"I'm right there with you, all the way."
THE END.
Author: Kate (deanscookie)
Rating: PG
Category: Gen
Word Count: 2,254
Spoilers: Up to 1.14 Nightmare.
Summary: Dean drives and muses on how much his little brother means to him.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns it all. Lucky bastard.
Notes: Dean's musings about women are a little off, according to Route 666, but I've decided that Cassie does not exist in my little corner of the world.
"WITH YOU ALL THE WAY"
Dean remembers his exact words to his little brother.
"Look, it sucks, but in a job like this you can't get close to people. Period."
Dean adjusted his grip on the Impala's steering wheel and wondered if he was the biggest hypocrite on the face of the earth. He could give Sam very good advice sometimes, he just wished he would follow it himself. Getting close to people was dangerous in their line of work, for both the people they cared about and themselves. Dean knew this, so he didn't form any attachments to anyone.
Especially to women. That was one thing Dean swore he would never do. One night stands, a little flirting with them, that's all good. He just didn't get close, didn't find out anything but their names. He would never care for a girl that way, just to risk her to the same fate as his mother and Jessica. Dean believed his family was cursed, that the women they loved were all targeted by the evil thing that had killed Mary Winchester 22 years ago, and Jessica only a few months ago.
So Dean stayed away, separated himself from everyone but his dad and his brother. He thought he was safe that way, thought that everyone was safe that way.
He was wrong. He was so desperately attached to Sammy, he didn't know what he'd do if he lost him.
Dean glanced at his baby brother asleep in the seat next to him. He didn't care if Sam was four inches taller, he would always be Dean's baby brother. Dean focused his attention back on the road as he thought about Sam. He really wasn't cut out for this life. Sure, he had the skills, just as Dean had; but he lacked the spirit. Sam was a gentle, passive, spirit. He was fragile and tender; Sam defined the phrase "made to be broken". Sam wasn't as tough as he appeared to be, and Dean was only one who really knew that.
Dean was the complete opposite. Dean was born a fighter, born to hunt down the monsters that crept around at night. He wasn't like Sam, he didn't take it all home with him, he could kill the freakin' demon and forget about it. Not have nightmares for days afterward. Dean hated the nightmares that tormented his brother. Mostly because it was something he couldn't protect Sam from. He had always been there to protect his brother from everything that hurt him; these nightmares were hurting him something awful, and there was nothing Dean could do.
Dean looked back over at Sam. His eyes were rolling behind his eyelids. Dean recognized it. Sam wasn't having a nightmare, but one of his premonition dreams. Dean was getting used to them, and could even tell the difference between them. When Sam was having a nightmare he thrashed and moaned, it tore Dean apart every time. He was always tempted to wake Sam up, but he knew if his brother didn't face his fears he would never be rid of them. So he always waited for Sam to wake up, and he made sure he was always right there beside Sam when he did wake. Always made sure he was there to reassure him, to let him know that he wouldn't let anything happen to him.
When Sam was having one of his visions, though, he never moved. He laid there, stiff as a board, breathing shallow and panicked, eyes moving furiously behind closed lids. Dean didn't know which was worse; the nightmares or the visions. He couldn't protect his brother from either, so he tried to put them in the same category. So that there was only one thing he couldn't save Sam from, not two. It made him feel slightly better about it all. Slightly.
Dean sat back in the seat and thought about a time when he and Sam were kids. Sam was about eight at the time, which meant Dean was somewhere along the lines of twelve. Both of them already black belts, Dean was a crack shot with any type of gun, and Sam was the best bow hunter in the county. The sport he never wanted to learn. Dean could drive the Impala in his sleep, so he let himself drift away for a little while, remembering that night so many years ago.
The door to Dean's bedroom opened slowly with a quiet squeak. Dean was instantly awake, reaching under his pillow for his pistol. He cracked one eye open and immediately relaxed; it was only Sam.
"Sammy?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
Sam stood fidgeting, looking down at his feet. He said nothing.
"Sam," Dean said, this time with a more commanding tone, "what's wrong?"
"I had another nightmare," Sam whispered to his feet.
Dean gave a small sigh. Dean had told Sam a thousand times that he hated when he came into his rom in the middle of the night, wanting to sleep with him. And he knew Sam tried to be brave about it, but...
"C'mon, Sammy," Dean said, "it's just a nightmare, it's not real, okay?" He sat up and looked at his brother. "You'll be just fine in your own room, in your own bed. Mine's too small for us both, I've told you that a thousand times."
Sam met his gaze and Dean saw the tears shining in his eyes. His sighed again and lifted the edge of his blanket. "All right, climb up here."
Sam scrambled under the covers and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, burying his head in Dean's chest. He was shaking and Dean could feel the cold sweat on his back through his thin t-shirt.
"Hey," he said softly, "it's okay. Whatever it was, I won't let it get you, okay? I'll protect you, no matter what, I swear." Sam only nodded, face sill pressed against Dean. Dean started scratching Sam's back, a trick that had put him to sleep ever since he was a baby. This was one of Dean's rare moments of tenderness. Usually when Sam crawled into his bed, he rolled over and went back to sleep, letting Sam cuddle up to his back. But not when he was this upset, he had to take of his little brother.
Dean sighed as he slowly came back the present. Their father never knew that Sam sometimes slept with Dean, Dean always took him back to his room before their father woke up. He had always thought his brother was kind of wimpy for having so many nightmares. Now he realized that Sam may have been dreaming of real things. People really getting hurt by the things that go bump in the night.
The thought made Dean shudder slightly, he didn't want his little brother seeing things in his nightmares that Dean saw in real life. No one should have to see those things, and especially not Sam. Sam deserved his normal life, and Dean would have gladly given it to him if he had not been so afraid. Afraid that if he left Sam go, didn't protect him, he would get hurt. His father felt the same way. But they both knew they wouldn't be able to hold him forever, so they taught him everything they could to protect himself. And they checked on him constantly, not a month went by when one of them didn't stop by Stanford at least once, to make sure he was okay. Once, Dean snuck up to his apartment door and put the most powerful protection charm he knew on it. It didn't ease his mind in any way, but he thought, better safe than sorry.
It was Dean's responsibility to take care of Sam, his father had given that responsibility when he was four years old. The moment he had placed baby Sammy in his arms Dean knew that it was his job to make sure nothing happened to him. Dean knew this, and it didn't bother him, protecting his little brother, but things were different now. It was more than protecting Sammy, it was leading him. Because, even though Sam would never admit it, Dean was the leader. When they were in a jam Sam always looked to Dean, the silent question in his eyes, what do we do now? And the faith and trust in his eyes, knowing without doubt that Dean will get them out of this alive.
But lately, as the calls got closer, Dean really wished his father were there to tell him what to do. And the resentment started to creep in. He was angry at his father for putting him in this situation, for making him hold both his and Sam's lives in his hands at every job. He'd never be able to live with himself if one of his decisions got Sam killed, and he didn't know who would take care of Sam if he died. If his father were here then it wouldn't be Dean's decision, it wouldn't be his burden.
And when he got to this point in his line of thought, Dean began to resent himself. Their father had enough on his plate without having to worry about his sons, they should be able to take care of themselves by now. Dad has so much to deal with, Dean should at least be able to take of himself and Sam. And so he pushed the resentment away, told himself that his dad must be staying away for a good reason, refused to think that something may have happened to him, and concentrated on taking care of his baby brother.
Dean knows that this is how it will always be. He always have to watch out for Sam, with or without their father around. It's always been this way, and it always will be. Dean glanced over at Sam, still trapped in his precognitive state, and thought about Sam's first hunt. Dean had been fiercly opposed to idea of taking his fourteen year old brother on a werewolf hunt, and he had been right too. Sam had almost died, and if Dean hadn't been there to protect him, he would have.
Sam made a small noise from where he was laying back in the seat next to Dean. Dean looked quickly over at him, Sam's face was shining with a thin layer of sweat. Dean knew what that meant, Sam would be awake soon, sitting straight up in the seat and gasping for air as if he'd just run a marathon. Dean shook his head quickly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. He was still dumbfounded by how affected he was by the man in the seat next to him.
Sometimes Dean entertained the thought of telling Sam how much he cared. He wondered what Sam would do if one Dean just told him, flat out 'I love you'. But then, he knew what would happen. Sam would get all choked up, tell him he loved him too, and then want to hug and all kinds of crap. Dean rolled his eyes at thought. Most guys would just give you a slap on the back, say 'yeah, me too' and let it go. Not Sam, he'd turn the whole thing into one big chick-flick moment. Dean didn't do that stuff. It was easier just to save Sam's butt every gig. Sam knew Dean loved him, he didn't have to say it.
Then, just as Dean knew it would happen, Sam sat straight up in his seat, gasping for air as if he'd just run a marathon. Sam dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his temples lightly. He was trembling and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. Dean took this as his cue.
"Dude, you okay?"
Sam took a deep breath and leaned back against his seat, closing his eyes. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
Dean nodded and focused on the road. "So, where to?"
Sam looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"Where are we going?" Dean asked. Sam still looked slightly confused. "Your dream, Sam. What happened, where do we need go?"
"How did you it was a premonition dream?" Sam tone was shocked.
"'Cause I'm psychic," Dean said jokingly.
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Dean..."
Dean shifted in his seat. "You're different when you're having a vision."
"What?"
"You act different, in your sleep."
"Different from what?"
"From the nightmares."
"Oh."
Dean glanced over at his brother, Sam was frowning at the dashboard. Dean felt a twinge of concern.
"Hey, man, are you sure you're all right?"
Sam looked over at him and gave him a small smile. Dean's insides twisted; what wouldn't he give to see Sam smile all the way. Happy and carefree, like when they were kids.
"Yeah," Sam said. "I'm sure."
"Okay," Dean looked back out at the endless expanse of road in front of them. "So, where to, o mighty seer?"
Sam chuckled softly and pulled the maps out from under his seat. Dean wanted to hear Sam laugh out loud, wanted his brother to be happy again, to sing in the shower like he always used to. But Sam needed to heal, and healing took time. And that was okay, because Dean was patient, and he was going to give Sammy all the time he needed. Because, no matter what, Dean would always take care of his baby brother.
"I'm right there with you, all the way."
THE END.