Point of Contact, 2/2, RaBB!verse, Gen, PG-13, POST 4x13
Sorry for the awkward ending of the last chapter; I had to cut it off mid-section to keep the chapters even. Which displeases me.
But here you guys go!
As always, feel free to friend for the fic. (Say that five times fast. I dare you.)
Title: Point of Contact
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 2 of 2
Spoilers: POST 4x13 liek WOAH.
Verse: Raising a Big Brother
Disclaimer: Do you really think I own these characters? Pssh. Not a chance.
Summary: Dean's 18, Sam's 14: Sam has an encounter at school, and Dean realizes the kid needs a cell phone of his own.
This segment of the 'verse points to why Dean is so adamant about cell phones.
First part here
From the first part:
Dean swallowed past the anger and rose up to call out. “Dad! I've got him!” Then he was kneeling, his fingers reaching for a pulse. Sam's skin was cold to the touch, but even as Dean's heart stopped, the steady pulse beat beneath his fingertips. “I've got you,” he repeated, softer now and only for Sam to hear. “C'mon Sammy, wake up. Big brother's right here, okay? You're safe, I gotcha, you're gonna be okay.”
Not an answer from him, and Dean hoped like hell that he was telling the truth, and that Sam would be okay. He had to be fine.
“Let me see him, Dean,” his dad said, breathing harshly as he knelt beside him. A dark cloud of fury passed over his dad's face as he took Sam in, but his hands were tender as they took Sam's left arm, hanging awkwardly behind him, and brought it forward. A soft moan came from Sam at the movement, and Dean's head whipped towards his brother.
Slowly Sam's eyes began to open. “Hey kiddo,” Dean said, crouching down even further to look his brother in the eye. Sam slowly caught his gaze, and Dean tried to smile. “You're gonna be okay, all right? We're right here, Sammy.”
“Just stay still, Sam,” Dad said softly, He seemed apparently satisfied with Sam's arm, and had done a precursory check over his legs. He leaned across Dean to gently take Sam's shoulder and turn him on his back. Sam hissed suddenly, arching up as soon as he settled on the ground.
“Where?” his dad asked.
“Back. L-Low...low back.” Sam's words were slurred, and his eyes began to close again.
“Hey!” Dean said, his voice loud. Sam blinked and his eyes opened, and Dean caught his gaze again in the remaining sunlight. “Stay with me, Sammy. C'mon, stay with me.”
Sam nodded slowly, his eyes at half mast. Dean pursed his lips and sat forward a little on his knees. “Did you leave on time? Leave school on time, Sam?”
Sam was still blinking slowly, too slowly, and he was shaking from the cold. Dean instantly slid his jacket off, and the hard cell phone in his pocket knocked against his thigh. He paused, his mind going off in a million different directions.
If Sam had had the cell phone on him, maybe Dean could've gotten there in time to stop this. If Sam had had the cell phone, maybe he could've called Dean to pick him up. If Sam had had the cell phone-
He jerked back to the present and laid the jacket across Sam. “You're gonna be fine,” Dean assured, trying to give his brother a sure smile. “Big brother promise.”
“I-I did.”
Dean frowned, confused at first at the reply, before he realized Sam was just now answering his question from before. He'd left school on time.
Which meant the bullies had been waiting for him on the field. Which meant Sam had possibly been unconscious for over an hour. “Dad,” Dean began.
Dad was already gathering Sam into his arms, and Dean immediately slid to cradle Sam's head in his hands. Guess his dad had put two and two together, too. “Hospital?” Dean asked softly. Head trauma wasn't anything to screw around with, and Dean was betting that his little brother had a damn good concussion going. And possibly hypothermia, and if he ground his teeth any harder against each other, they were going to break.
“No,” Sam whispered, trying to fight against Dad and Dean. “N-No hos...no, no...”
“If he gets worse, we'll take him,” Dad said, shifting to make sure Sam didn't tumble out of his grasp. Sam looked tinier still in his dad's arms, and Dean wished like hell his little brother wasn't so damn little, that he was tall and big and not so short and small and vulnerable and breakable. Too skinny, too tiny, and dammit, he was eighteen and Sam was going to be fine, he was not going to cry.
“Let's get him home,” Dad said, and Dean bent down once to retrieve the bag that had slipped from his shoulder. Then he was running to catch up, one hand reaching out to rest on Sam's head as Sam leaned into their dad's shoulder.
The ride home was filled with soft reassurances, a burning fury for those responsible, and a firm realization.
“Hey Dad?”
John glanced over at his youngest, smiling at him over his book. “Hey dude,” he said, and Sam gave a crooked grin. There was still a bright yellow and purple bruise on his cheek, but two days after the attack, and he could open both eyes, talk without sounding like he had cotton balls in his mouth, and could stand on his own.
Well, for a few minutes, anyways. He still got dizzy too fast, but he never fell. Dean was always right there and made sure Sam didn't fall, no matter the direction.
“Did Dean tell you his idea yet?”
“The cell phone one?”
“Yeah.”
John nodded. Yesterday, after Sam had fallen asleep for a second nap, Dean had come to him with an envelope full of cash. “Sammy needs a cell phone,” he'd said firmly. “A good one. One of the newer ones. So this doesn't happen again.”
He'd been adamant about the cash, and John had finally accepted. Dean had headed back into the bedroom to watch Sam, and John had turned the envelope over to see what Dean had written on it. Metallica ticket had been written cleanly and concisely on it, but John had already figured as much.
Sam bit his lip, then winced when his teeth encountered a healing cut. “It's a good idea, Sam,” John said. “Dean's right.”
“Yeah, but...” Sam sighed, but kept his eyes on John. “That's his Metallica money, and I know it. I know he gave you his savings for that. I heard him rustling around before I fell asleep yesterday.”
“Cell phones are still expensive, Sam,” John said, and wasn't at all surprised when his youngest didn't hesitate.
“I've got some money saved away. Besides, it's gonna be my cell phone, isn't it? Dean shouldn't have to pay for it,” he reasoned. “I'm fourteen, almost fifteen. He can't do everything for me, and he can't fight all my battles for me, Dad.”
John snorted. “Trust me, your brother'll damn well try.” Dean would always try and protect Sam. It was just as natural as breathing.
And Sam would always be willing to do anything for his big brother who gave his all for Sam. His boys worked best together; John had known that for years.
“And don't worry about the money,” John said softly. Dean had finally fallen asleep out on the sofa, conked out after so many hours awake to watch Sam essentially sleep. Still, his oldest had a knack for hearing everything he wasn't supposed to. “I'll keep it tucked away, but Dean's money'll go to his ticket, so long as nothing seriously dire comes up in the next few months.”
Considering that this past hunt had actually paid him in more than just a good feeling, seven lives spared, and a creature dead, John was fairly certain they'd do okay.
“Besides, you needed a cell phone anyways. That's not a frivolity; that's a necessity, Sam,” John continued when Sam's face didn't lift. “Which means I'll be covering it. We'll go out when you're feeling better and find a sturdy cell phone.”
Sam nodded, but still didn't look as happy as John thought he would be. “What's the matter, Sam?”
Sam made a face. “Dean...Dean doesn't like it here. And now he's stuck here, for his birthday, because of what happened to me. I'd be fine to drive somewhere-”
“Out of the question,” John said immediately. Sam had suffered a fairly decent concussion Friday evening, and even on Sunday, he was still weaving, stumbling, and barely leaving his bed unless he had to. They'd stay for a few more days until Sam was back on his feet without anyone having to support him.
Sam looked down at his hands, resting on top of his blankets. His knuckles were red, and John knew his son had tried to fight back. From what little Sam could remember, there'd been more than three, and they'd overpowered him. Sam wasn't a weakling despite his size, but he was still small.
And three against one weren't odds John would've messed with, and he was full grown. More than three against one...
After Sam had been taken care of Friday night and put to bed, Dean and John had stayed up to watch. There'd been a few bouts of sickness, as John had expected, and Dean had been quiet and calm. When Sam had finally drifted off, Dean had stepped out into the living room and lost it. Several things had been thrown, chairs and table had been violently shoved, and the end result had been Dean standing in the middle of the messy room, panting hard with his fists clenched.
John had watched from the doorway, waiting until Dean had calmed down enough to speak. “Do you know who they are?” he'd asked.
“Not personally,” Dean had answered, voice rough despite the fact that he hadn't shouted or yelled once. “But there were three bullies Sam had to put down his first day. I'll start there.”
John shifted back to the present and focused on Sam. Contrary to what Sam knew, his brother was actually looking forward to staying that Monday, and however other many days it took to track down who'd beaten Sam up.
He sighed and slid his chair closer to the bed. “Your brother's worried about you,” John said quietly. “And so am I, Sam. We'll stay until you feel better, and believe me, Dean's okay with that.”
Sam nodded, his eyes not tearing away from the blankets.
After a brief thought, John leaned in closer, as if conspiring with his son. “Do you have a gift for him?”
Sam shook his head. “I was gonna go get one, with the money I was saving,” he whispered. “I thought I'd be able to over the weekend, but...”
“Then I've got one for you to give him,” John said, and Sam finally turned to look at him. John gave a broad smile, making Sam frown. “But I'd appreciate it if you could share it with your old man.”
A few minutes later, Sam was grinning from ear to ear.
Dean found himself smiling, much as his dad had smiled a few days ago, when he came back into their motel room. He thumbed the blood at his lip with a slight grimace, but he was still smiling.
Five guys from the high school had suddenly wound up tied to the base of the flag pole, bruised, bloody, and missing certain key clothes. And all ready to confess to extreme bullying, for some odd reason.
Dean liked being an odd reason when it came to protecting Sam.
He'd barely shut the door before he realized that there were people waiting for him. His dad was leaning against the small kitchenette counter, and Sam was seated at the table. There was a small packet of cupcakes arranged on a paper plate, with a candle stuck in the center cupcake, and a wrapped box next to it.
It was their grins, though, that caught Dean's attention. “Hi,” he said, still smiling despite his confusion. “Happy birthday, me?”
Sam's grin broadened. “Something like that.”
“Well, I already got the happy part,” Dean said cheerfully. He could feel a small bruise on the side of his face where one of the little bastards had gotten a hit, and then there was his lip. It was fairly obvious what had made his day 'happy'.
The slide from the grin to soft, relieved smile was obvious on Sam's face a moment later. Dean gave him a wink, and Sam's grin returned at full force. He had a big brother behind him and knew it, and damn if Dean was going to let anyone hurt Sam without repercussions.
He was a hero, no matter what anyone at any school said. At least, a hero to one someone, who was looking up at him through too-long bangs with a bright smile despite the lingering bruises on his cheeks.
“I doubt you got all of the happy from 'happy birthday',” Sam said, and Dean glanced over at Dad. Dad, who was crossing his arms and looking just as pleased as Sam was.
“Well aren't you two the Cheery McCheeritons,” Dean said, raising his eyebrow. “You guys sniff paint or something while I was gone?”
Sam rolled his eyes: a return to normality. “Are you gonna open your present or not, jerk?”
“Bitch,” Dean answered, but reached down for the package. Sam leaned forward to shove it Dean's way, and the lack of any wincing only added to Dean's smile. The kid would be up and moving at full steam in a few days.
Then they'd head out and get a cell phone for Sam, and it'd be the best spent money Dean had ever saved up. Way better than any Metallica concert.
“It was all Sam's idea,” Dad said as he began to open the package, and Sam chuckled and shook his head with a grin.
Dean eyed them both, then continued opening until he reached a small box. The lid was pulled off, and three keys on a key ring were revealed, nestled in amongst cotton balls. Dean frowned and examined them closer. Two were identical, and one was slightly smaller, just as he'd guessed. “Uh, guys?” he said, moving his gaze up to his family. “These are the keys to the Imp-”
Their knowing grins stopped him in his tracks. His jaw fell open, and his eyes flew to his dad. “Are you serious?” he managed.
His dad nodded. “I'm still looking for another vehicle, so we'll share for a bit, but...yeah, Dean. It's yours.”
Dean swiveled his gaze down to the keys, his smile spreading to epic proportions. “Holy crap,” he breathed. “I...”
“Rendered him speechless,” Sam said, still grinning. “I didn't think it was possible.”
Dean flipped him off, earning an outright giggle from his brother. He raised his eyes from the keys at last, smiling at his dad, his cheeks starting to hurt from the strain. “Thank you,” he breathed, and got a nod in return.
“Best birthday ever?” Sam asked. Dean turned to his little brother, who now had his chin propped up by his hands. He was smiling, bruises bright on his cheeks, his bottom lip a dark red from dried blood.
But he was alive, and he was smiling, and he was safe, and screw the high from a hunt gone right. This was the best feeling ever.
“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “Best day ever, Sammy.”
END
............
Better ending? ^_^
~Nebula
But here you guys go!
As always, feel free to friend for the fic. (Say that five times fast. I dare you.)
Title: Point of Contact
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 2 of 2
Spoilers: POST 4x13 liek WOAH.
Verse: Raising a Big Brother
Disclaimer: Do you really think I own these characters? Pssh. Not a chance.
Summary: Dean's 18, Sam's 14: Sam has an encounter at school, and Dean realizes the kid needs a cell phone of his own.
This segment of the 'verse points to why Dean is so adamant about cell phones.
First part here
From the first part:
Dean swallowed past the anger and rose up to call out. “Dad! I've got him!” Then he was kneeling, his fingers reaching for a pulse. Sam's skin was cold to the touch, but even as Dean's heart stopped, the steady pulse beat beneath his fingertips. “I've got you,” he repeated, softer now and only for Sam to hear. “C'mon Sammy, wake up. Big brother's right here, okay? You're safe, I gotcha, you're gonna be okay.”
Not an answer from him, and Dean hoped like hell that he was telling the truth, and that Sam would be okay. He had to be fine.
“Let me see him, Dean,” his dad said, breathing harshly as he knelt beside him. A dark cloud of fury passed over his dad's face as he took Sam in, but his hands were tender as they took Sam's left arm, hanging awkwardly behind him, and brought it forward. A soft moan came from Sam at the movement, and Dean's head whipped towards his brother.
Slowly Sam's eyes began to open. “Hey kiddo,” Dean said, crouching down even further to look his brother in the eye. Sam slowly caught his gaze, and Dean tried to smile. “You're gonna be okay, all right? We're right here, Sammy.”
“Just stay still, Sam,” Dad said softly, He seemed apparently satisfied with Sam's arm, and had done a precursory check over his legs. He leaned across Dean to gently take Sam's shoulder and turn him on his back. Sam hissed suddenly, arching up as soon as he settled on the ground.
“Where?” his dad asked.
“Back. L-Low...low back.” Sam's words were slurred, and his eyes began to close again.
“Hey!” Dean said, his voice loud. Sam blinked and his eyes opened, and Dean caught his gaze again in the remaining sunlight. “Stay with me, Sammy. C'mon, stay with me.”
Sam nodded slowly, his eyes at half mast. Dean pursed his lips and sat forward a little on his knees. “Did you leave on time? Leave school on time, Sam?”
Sam was still blinking slowly, too slowly, and he was shaking from the cold. Dean instantly slid his jacket off, and the hard cell phone in his pocket knocked against his thigh. He paused, his mind going off in a million different directions.
If Sam had had the cell phone on him, maybe Dean could've gotten there in time to stop this. If Sam had had the cell phone, maybe he could've called Dean to pick him up. If Sam had had the cell phone-
He jerked back to the present and laid the jacket across Sam. “You're gonna be fine,” Dean assured, trying to give his brother a sure smile. “Big brother promise.”
“I-I did.”
Dean frowned, confused at first at the reply, before he realized Sam was just now answering his question from before. He'd left school on time.
Which meant the bullies had been waiting for him on the field. Which meant Sam had possibly been unconscious for over an hour. “Dad,” Dean began.
Dad was already gathering Sam into his arms, and Dean immediately slid to cradle Sam's head in his hands. Guess his dad had put two and two together, too. “Hospital?” Dean asked softly. Head trauma wasn't anything to screw around with, and Dean was betting that his little brother had a damn good concussion going. And possibly hypothermia, and if he ground his teeth any harder against each other, they were going to break.
“No,” Sam whispered, trying to fight against Dad and Dean. “N-No hos...no, no...”
“If he gets worse, we'll take him,” Dad said, shifting to make sure Sam didn't tumble out of his grasp. Sam looked tinier still in his dad's arms, and Dean wished like hell his little brother wasn't so damn little, that he was tall and big and not so short and small and vulnerable and breakable. Too skinny, too tiny, and dammit, he was eighteen and Sam was going to be fine, he was not going to cry.
“Let's get him home,” Dad said, and Dean bent down once to retrieve the bag that had slipped from his shoulder. Then he was running to catch up, one hand reaching out to rest on Sam's head as Sam leaned into their dad's shoulder.
The ride home was filled with soft reassurances, a burning fury for those responsible, and a firm realization.
“Hey Dad?”
John glanced over at his youngest, smiling at him over his book. “Hey dude,” he said, and Sam gave a crooked grin. There was still a bright yellow and purple bruise on his cheek, but two days after the attack, and he could open both eyes, talk without sounding like he had cotton balls in his mouth, and could stand on his own.
Well, for a few minutes, anyways. He still got dizzy too fast, but he never fell. Dean was always right there and made sure Sam didn't fall, no matter the direction.
“Did Dean tell you his idea yet?”
“The cell phone one?”
“Yeah.”
John nodded. Yesterday, after Sam had fallen asleep for a second nap, Dean had come to him with an envelope full of cash. “Sammy needs a cell phone,” he'd said firmly. “A good one. One of the newer ones. So this doesn't happen again.”
He'd been adamant about the cash, and John had finally accepted. Dean had headed back into the bedroom to watch Sam, and John had turned the envelope over to see what Dean had written on it. Metallica ticket had been written cleanly and concisely on it, but John had already figured as much.
Sam bit his lip, then winced when his teeth encountered a healing cut. “It's a good idea, Sam,” John said. “Dean's right.”
“Yeah, but...” Sam sighed, but kept his eyes on John. “That's his Metallica money, and I know it. I know he gave you his savings for that. I heard him rustling around before I fell asleep yesterday.”
“Cell phones are still expensive, Sam,” John said, and wasn't at all surprised when his youngest didn't hesitate.
“I've got some money saved away. Besides, it's gonna be my cell phone, isn't it? Dean shouldn't have to pay for it,” he reasoned. “I'm fourteen, almost fifteen. He can't do everything for me, and he can't fight all my battles for me, Dad.”
John snorted. “Trust me, your brother'll damn well try.” Dean would always try and protect Sam. It was just as natural as breathing.
And Sam would always be willing to do anything for his big brother who gave his all for Sam. His boys worked best together; John had known that for years.
“And don't worry about the money,” John said softly. Dean had finally fallen asleep out on the sofa, conked out after so many hours awake to watch Sam essentially sleep. Still, his oldest had a knack for hearing everything he wasn't supposed to. “I'll keep it tucked away, but Dean's money'll go to his ticket, so long as nothing seriously dire comes up in the next few months.”
Considering that this past hunt had actually paid him in more than just a good feeling, seven lives spared, and a creature dead, John was fairly certain they'd do okay.
“Besides, you needed a cell phone anyways. That's not a frivolity; that's a necessity, Sam,” John continued when Sam's face didn't lift. “Which means I'll be covering it. We'll go out when you're feeling better and find a sturdy cell phone.”
Sam nodded, but still didn't look as happy as John thought he would be. “What's the matter, Sam?”
Sam made a face. “Dean...Dean doesn't like it here. And now he's stuck here, for his birthday, because of what happened to me. I'd be fine to drive somewhere-”
“Out of the question,” John said immediately. Sam had suffered a fairly decent concussion Friday evening, and even on Sunday, he was still weaving, stumbling, and barely leaving his bed unless he had to. They'd stay for a few more days until Sam was back on his feet without anyone having to support him.
Sam looked down at his hands, resting on top of his blankets. His knuckles were red, and John knew his son had tried to fight back. From what little Sam could remember, there'd been more than three, and they'd overpowered him. Sam wasn't a weakling despite his size, but he was still small.
And three against one weren't odds John would've messed with, and he was full grown. More than three against one...
After Sam had been taken care of Friday night and put to bed, Dean and John had stayed up to watch. There'd been a few bouts of sickness, as John had expected, and Dean had been quiet and calm. When Sam had finally drifted off, Dean had stepped out into the living room and lost it. Several things had been thrown, chairs and table had been violently shoved, and the end result had been Dean standing in the middle of the messy room, panting hard with his fists clenched.
John had watched from the doorway, waiting until Dean had calmed down enough to speak. “Do you know who they are?” he'd asked.
“Not personally,” Dean had answered, voice rough despite the fact that he hadn't shouted or yelled once. “But there were three bullies Sam had to put down his first day. I'll start there.”
John shifted back to the present and focused on Sam. Contrary to what Sam knew, his brother was actually looking forward to staying that Monday, and however other many days it took to track down who'd beaten Sam up.
He sighed and slid his chair closer to the bed. “Your brother's worried about you,” John said quietly. “And so am I, Sam. We'll stay until you feel better, and believe me, Dean's okay with that.”
Sam nodded, his eyes not tearing away from the blankets.
After a brief thought, John leaned in closer, as if conspiring with his son. “Do you have a gift for him?”
Sam shook his head. “I was gonna go get one, with the money I was saving,” he whispered. “I thought I'd be able to over the weekend, but...”
“Then I've got one for you to give him,” John said, and Sam finally turned to look at him. John gave a broad smile, making Sam frown. “But I'd appreciate it if you could share it with your old man.”
A few minutes later, Sam was grinning from ear to ear.
Dean found himself smiling, much as his dad had smiled a few days ago, when he came back into their motel room. He thumbed the blood at his lip with a slight grimace, but he was still smiling.
Five guys from the high school had suddenly wound up tied to the base of the flag pole, bruised, bloody, and missing certain key clothes. And all ready to confess to extreme bullying, for some odd reason.
Dean liked being an odd reason when it came to protecting Sam.
He'd barely shut the door before he realized that there were people waiting for him. His dad was leaning against the small kitchenette counter, and Sam was seated at the table. There was a small packet of cupcakes arranged on a paper plate, with a candle stuck in the center cupcake, and a wrapped box next to it.
It was their grins, though, that caught Dean's attention. “Hi,” he said, still smiling despite his confusion. “Happy birthday, me?”
Sam's grin broadened. “Something like that.”
“Well, I already got the happy part,” Dean said cheerfully. He could feel a small bruise on the side of his face where one of the little bastards had gotten a hit, and then there was his lip. It was fairly obvious what had made his day 'happy'.
The slide from the grin to soft, relieved smile was obvious on Sam's face a moment later. Dean gave him a wink, and Sam's grin returned at full force. He had a big brother behind him and knew it, and damn if Dean was going to let anyone hurt Sam without repercussions.
He was a hero, no matter what anyone at any school said. At least, a hero to one someone, who was looking up at him through too-long bangs with a bright smile despite the lingering bruises on his cheeks.
“I doubt you got all of the happy from 'happy birthday',” Sam said, and Dean glanced over at Dad. Dad, who was crossing his arms and looking just as pleased as Sam was.
“Well aren't you two the Cheery McCheeritons,” Dean said, raising his eyebrow. “You guys sniff paint or something while I was gone?”
Sam rolled his eyes: a return to normality. “Are you gonna open your present or not, jerk?”
“Bitch,” Dean answered, but reached down for the package. Sam leaned forward to shove it Dean's way, and the lack of any wincing only added to Dean's smile. The kid would be up and moving at full steam in a few days.
Then they'd head out and get a cell phone for Sam, and it'd be the best spent money Dean had ever saved up. Way better than any Metallica concert.
“It was all Sam's idea,” Dad said as he began to open the package, and Sam chuckled and shook his head with a grin.
Dean eyed them both, then continued opening until he reached a small box. The lid was pulled off, and three keys on a key ring were revealed, nestled in amongst cotton balls. Dean frowned and examined them closer. Two were identical, and one was slightly smaller, just as he'd guessed. “Uh, guys?” he said, moving his gaze up to his family. “These are the keys to the Imp-”
Their knowing grins stopped him in his tracks. His jaw fell open, and his eyes flew to his dad. “Are you serious?” he managed.
His dad nodded. “I'm still looking for another vehicle, so we'll share for a bit, but...yeah, Dean. It's yours.”
Dean swiveled his gaze down to the keys, his smile spreading to epic proportions. “Holy crap,” he breathed. “I...”
“Rendered him speechless,” Sam said, still grinning. “I didn't think it was possible.”
Dean flipped him off, earning an outright giggle from his brother. He raised his eyes from the keys at last, smiling at his dad, his cheeks starting to hurt from the strain. “Thank you,” he breathed, and got a nod in return.
“Best birthday ever?” Sam asked. Dean turned to his little brother, who now had his chin propped up by his hands. He was smiling, bruises bright on his cheeks, his bottom lip a dark red from dried blood.
But he was alive, and he was smiling, and he was safe, and screw the high from a hunt gone right. This was the best feeling ever.
“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “Best day ever, Sammy.”
END
............
Better ending? ^_^
~Nebula