So I read this prompt on tumblr, "In a world where you can only see color when your soulmate is born: Sam has always seen color and Dean has color since he was four years old. Neither of them realize until the first time Sam dies in Cold Oak, when the red blood on Dean's fingers turn grey as his brother-soulmate- dies in his arms." by haliastone and I kinda rolled with it. Might have gone a little overboard, actually, but I loved the concept. Now, I took some creative liberties with the show, changed the lines to suite the story better, but it's a AU afterall. This is wincest, so don't read this if you don't like it. Spoilers for All Hell Breaks Loose part 1 and 2, but you probably need to have seen both episodes to really understand the story. Hope you enjoy the story!

Dean is only four years old when he is first able to see color. He doesn't even realize it at first. He's staring at the white wall in a hospital waiting room, waiting for his mom and new brother, half excited and half going out of his mind with boredom. It's been a long couple of hours and there's only so much an energetic young boy like himself can take sitting down. But then the nurse comes out and he sees it- she's wearing blue scrubs, her hair is brown, her skin is slightly pink. He knows what it means, to see colors, to some extent. It doesn't stop him from freaking the heck out at this new addition to his vision because dude he can see colors. The nurse barely gets out that Mary has delivered a healthy baby boy before Dean points at her and starts yelling.

Everything is slightly disorienting after that. His dad looks amused when he finds out what's causing his meltdown, and the nurse leaves once she is assured nothing serious is wrong.

His father finally calms him down by assuring him it's completely natural. "You can't go see your new brother unless you calm down, Deano," John says, rubbing a large hand over Dean's shaking shoulders, followed closely by, "Don't you wanna go tell mom and Sammy the exciting news?"

At that, Dean at last quiets down. His dad has to lead him down the hall and into the hospital room that holds his mom and brother. He's busy gazing at his surroundings with new eyes, awed in the face of all the colors. But when they enter the room his gaze snaps to his mother and the little bundle in her arms.

The thing he remembers most about that day, despite the colors and how much prettier his mom is now that he can see the gold in her hair, is the flush on baby Sam's cheeks when he sees him for the first time. No one understands why he can see colors all of the sudden. No one guesses the truth.


When Sam is five, Dean figures out he can see colors, that he's always been able to. John doesn't happen to notice how it connects to the appearance of color in Dean's vision, but he doesn't notice much anymore. Not after the fire that killed Mary. After his quest for revenge started.


Dean's eighteen when he starts to get suspicious. Maybe he loves Sam a little more than he should, is too fiercely protective of him. Maybe his gaze lingers on Sam's mouth and his too long hair. Dean reasons he's just a screwed up kid, holding tightly to the only family he has. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever have thought Sam was his soul mate.

He never really noticed before- the way this would start to fade to gray when Sam is really badly, hospital bad, hurt. If you thought that was unnatural, implausible, then you just didn't understand how Dean Winchester worked. Nothing comes before his baby brother. Not his own hurt, not nurses telling him to step back, we've got this, not and monster that threatens him and sure as hell not a slight change in his vision. He passes it off as anxiety, mind-numbing worry, and a grief-stricken pain that can make you see stars.

So when a hunt goes wrong and a ghost is strangling his brother before his eyes and he can't get to him, can't reach him, fading pigments are the last thing on his mind. He bangs against the door separating them until his knuckles are bloody, his yells filling up the empty space in the old warehouse. He barely hears his dad ordering him to step back before the door is being blasted off its hinges and they barreling into the room. By then his vision is darkening. The second shotgun blast is loud compared to Sam's struggling gasps for breath, but the ghost is gone for the moment, and Dean can finally reach Sam, finally.

"Dean!" John barks, but Dean is already sliding to his knees beside Sam.

John surrounds them in salt, then stand over them like a sentinel, waiting for the ghost to return. Sam is gagging on the ground, clutching his throat, and Dean lifts him up from the ground to help him breath. His hand moves to cup Sam's cheek, making his younger brother look at him. Panic his making his heart jackhammer in his chest, but his vision is rapidly returning to normal. He can see Sam's wide hazel eyes flickering around the room before they finally landing on Dean's face. He can see Sam's pale skin, the reassuring flush on his cheeks. He heaves a sigh of relief.

"Sammy, you good?" Deans asks, his other hand sliding smoothly up and down Sam's heaving back. His dad thankfully doesn't comment on how his voice trembles.

Sam nods once, giving him a shaky thumbs up. His dusty hair is standing on end, there are nasty bruises already forming on his neck, and he's wheezing more than Dean would like, but he's alright.

John lays a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder, startling him. He looks up into his dad's weary, concerned face. His dad says, "Get him outta here."

Dean nods his understanding. He's more than happy to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. He smiles at Sam, throws the fourteen-year-old's arm around his neck. "Come on, Sammy, let's getcha ya to the car."

Sam struggles, tugging feebly to try to stop him. "But… the ghost." He croaks, and Dean winces at how rough his voice is. "Gotta finish the- the job."

That settles in Dean's stomach like a heavy weight. Sam's too young to be worrying about the job, not worrying about the fact that he almost died. He's too young for it to be a regular occurrence.

"Dad will take care of it." Dean says slowly. He grips his brother tight, helps him stand and gets him into the backseat of the car.

"Sorry." Sam whispers. Dean stops in his task of tucking the blanket around his shoulders. He looks down from where he's hovering above Sam and his heart aches at how much his little brother looks like a kicked puppy.

"Hey, none of that." Dean growls. "You're more important than some stupid hunt, ok?" He sits down beside Sam, wrapping an arm around him. He smiles when Sam melts against him like he'd been craving the touch. Dean's hands travel from his shoulder to his hair, stroking the long, dust covered locks quietly.

So maybe Dean's touches linger more than brotherly affection would entail. Maybe he loves the feeling of his fingers in Sam's hair, revels in the life that thrums through his brother's veins. So what? He can fight all the urges. Uses all the girls to distract himself. He never even considers the truth to be a possibility. Not until it's too late.


Its not unitl years later, on a cold rainy evening in Cold Oak, that Dean truely realizes the truth. It's not until after Sams left him for college, not until his brother has suffered terrible loss and been forced back into a hunters life, not until after their father is dead. Almost nine years.

He lost Sam. He lost Sam and against all odds he and Bobby had found him again in this horrible little abaddoned town. Hes been out of his mind with worry over the kid. Dean sees Sam a few yards ahead of them, looking a soggy and worse for wear, and all Dean wants to do is bundle him safely in his arms and run. Relief of finding Sam is warring with a dread thats growing in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't understand it and it makes him edgy, makes him take another step closer to his brother. All he can think about is that they need to leave, that he has to get Sam out of here.

"Sam!" He calls, and Sam looks up, a relieved smile splitting his face. Dean has a moment to bask in the warmth that smile sends through him before there is movement behind his brother, a dark shape moving towards Sam with purpose.

He chokes out a "Sam, behind you!" But it's too late. Sam's back arches in a silent scream as the man drive a knife into his back and twists. Dean can almost feel the blow. No, Deans brain roars. No.

"No!" Dean screams, racing forward. He ignores the man, who drops the knife and races into the woods behind him. He ignores Bobby as the older hunter races after him. He can't focus past Sam, who is collaspsing to his knees, face titled up toward the rain. Dean just manages to catch him as he goes down, sends them both into the mud. He grips Sam's shirt in his hands, grips it tight to steady him.

"Sammy?" Dean practically yells in Sam's face. He shakes him, trying to get Sam to focus in him. Sam looks at him, but the glazed over look Sam gives him makes him feel sick. "Sam! Listen to me, we're gonna patch you up, ok?"

Sam's dazed gaze wanders somewhere over Dean shoulder. His weight is getting heavier all the time and his body is going limp in Deans arms.

"Sam!" He watches as Sam's eyes roll around in his head, has to scramble for a better grip when Sam slumps forwad into him. "Woah, woah, woah... Sam, hey." He wants to keep his eyes in his brother but he has to check the wound. He has to know what hes dealing with. "Hey, come here. Let me take a look attacha."

Dean lets his brother rest against him, head laying heavy in his shoulder. Sam makes a pained sigh as he settles. Dean grips the back of Sam's head with one hand and slides the other down Sam's back. Immediately he finds an alarming amount of wetness. He looks over Sam's shoulder and sees the horrible, severely bleeding knife wound in his brothers back. His heart plummets. He swallows thickly, tries not to let his voice break as he whispers to Sam "It's not even that bad. It's not that bad ok? Well fix you up, make you good as new."

He's kidding himself and he knows it.

"I'm gonna take care of you." Dean says, steeling himself against his growing horror. "I'm gonna take care of you. I've got you."

He leans his brother back, holds his face between his hands. Blood from Dean's hands smears on Sam's jaw. His heart lurches when he finds Sam's eyes closed and his skin alarmingly pale. Not pale- grey. Then he notices even the blood on Sam is colorless, Dean panics, words coming out unbidden from his mouth. "That's my job right? Look out for my pain in the ass little brother." Not even this goads a response out of his brother and Deans heart is absolutely crushed with how much pain that fact brings him. He can't be losing Sam. He can't. He shakes his head wildly. "Sam? Sam! Sammy?!"

Everything around is black and white, he realizes. He doesn't understand, he doesn't understand- he's losing Sammy and now his vision is fading into black and white. Maybe he's going into shock, about to pass out, but-

Everything snaps sharply, painfully into place.

"No." He breathed out, shocked and horrified. "Oh god, no." Sam is his soul mate. Sam is his freaking soul mate, and isn't that a breath stealing, heart pounding, sucker punch to the gut. Dean never knew, never suspected, and thought it was normal to be willing to give up everything, anything for Sam and only Sam. "No, please." His arms tighten impossibly closer, cradling Sam to him, rocking him and clenching a desperate fist in his hair. "Please, Sam, don't leave me. Don't you dare leave me."

But Sam is gone, taking all the color with him. Dean is left with a gray world, Sam's dead weight clutched to his chest, and a hole in his heart that might as well have taken the whole darn thing. It's of no use to him now.

"SAM!" The name sounds likes it's been ripped from him with the intensity in which he screams it. He sobs, burying his face his Sam's hair, rocking his brother's cold body.

There's no answer.


Nothing matters now. Dean... He can't even function without Sam. Screw the demon and the so called master plan. Why should he try to save the world when he couldn't even save the only thing that mattered? Everything being black and white is a constant, disorienting reminder of what he lost. Bobby doesn't understand that. He suggests that they bury Sam, burn his body like they did to their dad. Dean can't keep the bile from rising in his throat.

"Something big is going down – end-of-the world big." Bobby is saying and Dean doesn't want to hear it.

"Well, then let it end!" He yells. Bobby looks so taken aback, so shocked, Dean wants to feel bad. But hes so numb, he doesn't have the energy.

After a few tense minutes of silence, Bobby finally whispers, "You don't mean that."

Dean meets his gaze, hard and unforgiving. Deadly serious. "You don't think so? Huh? You don't think I've given enough?" His head turns toward the bed they had layed Sam on, looks over his brother's lifeless body. It hurt worse than anything he's ever felt. He has to turn away, cant help the grim look on his face as he looks back to Bobby. "You don't think I've paid enough? I'm done with it. All of it. And if you know what's good for you, you'd turn around, and get the hell out of here."

"Dean-"

"No!" Dean screams, shoves the older man roughly back. Bobby stumbles, looking hurt and so sad. "Leave. Just leave me alone. Please."

Bobby doesn't. He just stands where he is, eyes watering, gaze going back and forth between Dean and the corpse laying on the bed behind him. Dean does feel bad then. This is Bobby, whose been there for them more then even their dad was. He's all Dean has left. And though he knows it can't compare to the pain he's feeling, Bobby had lost someone when Sam- Dean winces. When Sam had died.

"Look, I'm sorry." Dean whispers. "Its just- there's no color anymore. Now that he's gone, there's nothing." Bobby's expression changes from hurt to understanding, a growing horror making his eyes go wide.

"You mean-?" Bobby breathes.

Dean nods, barely gets out a "Yah." He can't look at Bobby's face now.

Bobby's face changes to one of complete heartbreak. "Oh, son."

"Bobby." Dean sighs, runs a hand over his hair. "I just need to be alone for a little while. Please."

"Sure." Bobby says, before he grabs his keys, assures Dean he'll be back in a few days, then walks out the door with one more worried look. Dean is left alone in the ratty little building they found abbandoned.

Slowly, he walks over the room that holds his brother corpse, drags with him a chair and a bottle of alcohol. He sets down beside the bed, takes a swig from the bottle, and just stares.

For a long time that's all he does.


"You know, when we were little— and you couldn't been more than 5— you just started asking questions." Dean finally says. His gaze hasn't left Sam, is permanently fixed on the cold husk that used to hold his brother. "How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time?" He pauses, laughs slightly even though it hurts to remember it now. "I remember I begged you, 'Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know.' I just wanted you to be a kid... Just for a little while longer."

"I always tried to protect you..." Dean is desperate for Sam to know this. His eyes run over every inch of Sam's colorless face, searching for something he'll never be able to find. "Keep you safe... Dad didn't even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job."

"And I can see it now, yah know?" Dean says, quietly. He thinks of all the times their gazes lingered, their touches wandered, their heads titled close enough that he could have kissed Sam if he'd wanted to. God, how he'd always wanted to, and now he'd never get the chance. He'd never get to see if Sam would kiss him back. "All the signs are clear as day, I don't know how I could have missed em. I can't stop thinking about all the miss- missed opportunities-"

He swallows thickly, takes a steadying breath. Takes a long drag from the bottle in his hands. Puts it down when it's empty. Continues saying words that are almost too painful to say.

"I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down." His voice breaks. He's crying, he realizes, and he scrubs a hand angrily over his eyes. "And now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down too. I had one job, and I screwed it up. I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry."

His fists clench by his sides, turning white. Beneath all the despair he's feeling, anger is coiling in the pit of his stomach. He's angry at his father for leading them down this path, at the man who drove the knife into his brother's back, at the demon who started this whole mess. He's angry at himself for letting Sam die.

"How can I? How am I supposed to live with that?" He croaks. "What Am I supposed to do?" He stands, looks desperately at Sam's lax face. "Sammy… God. What am I supposed to do?"

The cabin is so hauntingly silent, Sams body right there but not Sam, and Dean can't take it any more. He whirls around, grips the top of the chair he'd been sitting in an hurls the piece of furniture at the wall. "What am I supposed to do?"


He knows what he has to do.

Before he's even aware of it, he's in the impala, peeling out of the driveway. He blows through every traffic light, couldn't tell which one was glowing anyway, wouldn't even care. He can't look at the passenger seat. He remembers how to summon a crossroads demon, knows the normal deal. It's usually ten years. This demon though, it knows the Winchester name, knows who he is.

He only gets one year.

He only gets one year with Sam, but it doesn't matter. He would have given up everything, would have died that very minute for Sam to be alive again. He takes the deal gladly. Now, colors are bleeding back into his surroundings. Sam was… he was going to be okay. Dean choked back a sob, tears prickling at his suddenly watering eyes. Thank god. Sam was going to be okay.

Dean can't get back to the shack where he'd left Sam fast enough. When he bursts through the door again, Sam is there. Dean freezes, can do nothing but drink in the sight of his brother. Sam is in the doorway, standing there like nothing happened. Dean can see the brown in his hair, the tan of his skin, the ever-present flush in his cheeks. He never thought he'd miss such a little thing as color so much.

But it wasn't really the color he'd miss.

"Sammy." His heart leaps into his throat when Sam looks over at him, gives him a smile. Dean can barely breathe, he is so relieved. He manages, "Thank god."

"Hey." Sam says and it's so good to hear his voice.

Dean doesn't say anything, just pushes forward to wrap Sam in his arms before he can ask any questions. He holds Sam to him, delights in the fact that he's warm and has a heartbeat. He doesn't let go until Sam hisses in pain, wheezes "Dean." like its hard to breathe.

"I'm sorry." Dean laughs, feels so high with joy. He holds Sam by the shoulders, keeps him close. "I'm sorry man. I'm just... I'm just happy to see you up and around, that's all." He says. It's probably the understatement of the century.

Sam just shakes his head, eyebrows raised in question. Dean leads him to the the table in the living room. He pats a chair, urges, "Come on, sit." He waits before Sam is sitting before he does the same.

Sam wants answer, naturally. Dean tries to answer most of them truthfully, but leaves mostly everything important out. He'd decided not to tell Sam everything (the deal, and more importantly, that their sole mates) right off. He doesn't want to put that weight on Sam's shoulders. He doesn't know how to tell him. He hadn't thought about the consequences of the deal, but he'd do it again in a heartbeat. Even more so now that he figured out what Sam turely is to him. He just needs a little time to figure out how to break it to his brother, without him going out of his freakishly smart mind. But he's to vague, his answers to allusive. Sam wants to leave, wants to fond Bobby, wants to hunt down the man who stabbed him and the demon whose practically destroyed their lives. Dean's not prepared for it and that's what makes him slip up. He panics. He can't stand the thought of Sam hunting again, can't even stand him being out of his sight long enough for him to use the bathroom.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean scrambles to his feet as Sam stands to leave. He grabs his shoulders, grip bruising. "Stop, Sam, stop! Damn it. You almost died in there. I mean, what would I 've — can't you just take care of yourself for a little bit, huh? Just for a little bit?

"I'm sorry." Sam says. He is is staring at Dean with that look, the one brimming with determination and stubbornness. "No."

Dean can't take that answer, shakes his head wildly. His eyes are watering again, desperation setting in. "Sam, man... you don't understand." He ignores the way Sam's eyes go wide, the way his mouth parts in worried confusion. "You can't go back out there right now. Your gonna give me a friggin heart attack. Sam, I couldn't handle if I lost you again so soon-" He knows he's screwed up the moment the words are out of his mouth. He freezes, can't for the life of him think of anything to say.

"Dean what?" Sam gasps. His face is pale, his hand subconsciously reaching towards his back.

Dean can't respond.

"You- you said I was fine! You said Bobby patched me up." Sam's voice gains volume as he talks, hands swinging around erratically. "But I died, didn't I." It's not a question. His clenched jaw and white knuckles give away his growing horror. "So how am I alive? What did you do?" He grabs Dean by his shirt, gives him a hard shake. "Dean, what the hell did you do?"

"You died Sam!" Dean explodes. He grips Sam's shirt in return, shakes him just as hard. "You died and suddenly all the colors were gone and I couldn't take it, ok? So I made a deal."

"You made a deal?!" Sam yells, and that's fury on his face now. "With a demon? After what we we've been through, what dad did for you, how could you do that?"

"'Çause I couldn't live with you dead." Dean answers, and its so true it hurts.

"Dean." Sam says. His grips loosens on Dean's shirt, just barely holding on. Dean can't let go of him yet, though, holds him tight and close. He shrugs slightly and repeats, "I couldn't."

Sam is still staring at him with wide eyes, and Dean can practically see him trying to process all the new information. He's quiet long enough for Dean to get worried. Before he can ask him if he's ok, though, Sam speaks.

"I'm not done talking about your deal. I wanna know what your still not telling me." Sam says slowly. Dean starts to object, remember keenly the demons warning about trying to weasel his way out of his deal, but Sam holds up a hand. "There is something, Dean. I can tell. But...You said... you said the colors were gone."

Dean's heart sinks. Sam is smart, so smart, of course he'd latched onto the one bit of information Dean had no idea how to discuss. He didn't want Sam to feel obligated to him. Sam is looking at him expectantly from beneath his bangs. "Dean, doesn't that mean...?"

"Yah," Dean nods awkwardly, starting to back off. Something tightens in his chest when his hands slid off Sam's shoulders. He forces himself to take a few steps back, keeps his head bowed. "But don't worry. You don't have to... I wouldn't force anything on yah, Sammy."

He is startled into looking up when Sam chuckles, a short warm sound. He stares in wonder as Sam shakes his head, smiling slightly. "Dean, you wouldn't have to force anything. Don't you know I've been in love with you since I knew what love was?"

Dean is breathless, struck dumb. It's hard to think, but he manages to ask, "Wha- why didn't you say anything?"

"Didn't think it mattered." Sam shrugs, looking shy. "The way you are with girls..."

Dean shakes his head, kinda wants to punch his younger self for making such horrible decisions. For making Sam think he wasn't worth it. "The only reason I did that was because I was trying to get over you, Sam. It sounds pretty stupid now. After all, who can get over their soul mate..." It feels so good to finally say it out loud. Dean can't help but smile. It's even better when Sam's face seems to brighten. Dean feels light, like the deal isn't hanging over his head because it was so worth it to get this back. "Sammy, your the only thing that's ever mattered to me. Don't you know that by now?"

Sam gives his another small smile before his face hardens.

"I'm still freaking pissed at you, man." Sam says, voice low and serious. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips purse before he says, "But I really want to kiss you right now. So I'll put off kicking your butt until later."

Dean stands there, unclenching and clenching his fists. He takes a minutes to solidify in his mind that this is real, that Sam is alive and wants him. Sam stares at him, smiling. He rolls his eyes. That's it for Dean and he's suddenly all in Sam's space. His hand slides over Sam's blessedly warm skin, cupping his jaw. His finger lingers over the pulse point in his neck, just to be sure. Sam huffs and moves forward. Holds on to Dean's forearms. Their lips finally meet.

It's just a dry press of lips at first, chaste really. It ends that way too. Their still new to this type of intimacy and Dean's okay with not taking it too far just yet. Doesn't mean he won't take advantage of the new ability to touch. Dean rest their foreheads together, smiles at being able to be so close to Sam. He stroacks his thumb over Sam's cheekbone.

Sam breaks the silence when he says, "You know I'm gonna do everything I can to get you out of that deal, right?"

Dean stiffens, pulls back enough to look Sam in the eye. "No, Sam. Your not." His raises his voice when Sam opens his mouth, bulldozes over any objections Sam would try to make. "The deal I made? We can't break it. We trap the crossroads demon, trick it, try to welch our way out of the deal in any way? You die. Okay? You die. Those are the terms. There's no way out of it."

His hands clasp Sam's neck. He looks his brother dead in the eye, lets him know how freaking serious he is. "If you try to find a way, so help me god, I'm gonna stop you."

Sam is quiet for a moment. He doesn't break eye contact. Finally, he whispers, so quietly Dean almost misses it. "We'll see."


Sam does eventually convince Dean to go to Bobby's. Dean figures that now that Sam is back in the world, he might as well try to save it. Bobby is confused, then angry, and after all the yelling his over with, they get to work. Ellen joins them at one point, and they head to Wyoming to find the Devil's Gate. Dean doesn't let Sam out of his sight for a minute, forces people back like a angry watch dog. Sam is obviously annoyed, but he allows Dean this. He lets Sam push him back, rests when Dean forces him to, reassures him with kisses.

They have a pretty simple plan. Get to the cemetery, stop Jake, take back the colt, and kill the demon. Piece of cake, right?

Naturally, everything goes to hell when they get there. Sam kills Jake, the gates are open long enough to let out a whole mess of demons, he has no idea where Bobby and Ellen are, and the demon is there. The demon, Azazel. Dean lunges for the colt that had fallen to the ground in the initial scuffle, but he doesn't even get to cock the gun before he's sent sailing through the air. He fly's toward the tombstones, gun still firmly in his grip.

Deans head hits the stone with a crack and there's pain shooting through his head, but he's already scrambling to his knees because Sam.

It's everything Dean feared would happen. Azazel has Sam in his clutches, pinned to a tree, and Dean knows, he knows Sam is going to be killed. He thinks I can't lose him is again, I won't . His arm is up before he even realized it, the gun going off without him really recalling pulling the trigger. The bullet hits the demon in the heart and he seizes, bright electric like currents flashing beneath his skin before he collapses. Then Dean was up, stumbling, almost falling, towards Sam.

Sam had fallen when Azazel had collapsed, the power that had held him there releasing him. His was slumped against the bark, breathing heavy and like it hurt.

Dean dropped to his knees before his brother, hands instantly searching for injuries he could have sustained. His hands were shaking, frenzied. "Sammy you ok?" He breathes, huffing out panicked gulps of air. "Oh god, Sam, talk to me. I can't go through this again. I can't-"

"Dean," Sam caught his hands, gripping them gently between his own. His eyes are wide, locked on his brother's face, brow furrowed like it always is when he's worried. Sam has dark bags under his eyes, he's in pain, but he's alive. Freaking alive. "Dean," Sam repeated firmly. His hands squeeze Dean's, reassuring. "I'm ok. I'm fine. We're gonna be fine."

"Thank god." Dean sobbed. It feels like his heart is trying to beat of his chest. His hands tightened on Sam's, drawing his brother closer so he could press their foreheads together. He tried to calm down his breathing, feeling Sam warm and alive alive in his arms.

Then Dean is yanking Sam forward, kissing his desperately. Sam responds back just as eagerly. His hands are in Dean's short hair, tugging on it. Dean's hands find their way to Sam's back, pulling him closer. After a moment, Dean pulls back. Sam whines, tries to follow, but Dean stops him by resting their foreheads together again.

"I can't do that again, Sam." Dean manages to choke out, voice broken. His lips brush Sam's when he speaks and he thinks, I could have never known how this feels, I almost lost this.

Sam seems to sense his distress, his fingers travel from Dean's hair to cradle his face with two giant hands.

Dean's heart clenches painfully in his chest with how much he loves him. He will not lose him again. His fingers dig into Sam's back and he says, desperately. "Not you… Sammy I won't make it through next time. Do you understand me? I won't survive."

"Dean." Sam cut him off, soothing. He pulls Dean into and embrace, and Dean holds onto him fiercely. Like he's afraid of what would happen if he let go. "I understand. I hear you."

Dean sighs in relief, holds Sam a little tighter. Its over. It's finally over and they made it out alive.

"Your bleeding." Sam says, gently wiping some blood from his forehead. Dean can feel the pain now that his panic has subsided, thinks he probably has a concussion, but he couldn't be happier.

"I'm okay." Dean says and he means it. Sam is alive. That's all he's ever needed to be okay.

Dean has a brief flashback to blood, lots of it, pooled around Sam like bath water. Knows it'll haunt his dreams in the coming year. Maybe he'll figure out a way to get out of his deal without risking Sam, but if he doesn't that's ok too. Sam is alive and Dean's gonna do everything in his power to keep him that way. He presses another soft kiss to Sam's lips, holds his brother close. For now, he'll make the most of the time he has with Sam.

He knows they'll be ok in the end. They always are. He doesn't let his mind linger on the time when his vision faded to black- it's not going to happen again.

Well my ending always suck, but that's the end. Horrible editing done by me. Looking for a good beta to be my friend if anyone is interested! Favorites and reviews would be appreciated! Until next time, friends.