Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Eric Kripke does, this is just for fun

Rating: This is rated PG, nothing too bad at all


It was early in the morning, very early, and the golden-yellow sun was just beginning to rise, and shine. It still held an orange tint about it's blazing rim, and the sight of it caught Sam Winchester's eyes and kept them locked there for a long time. Sam was a tall fellow, lanky and thin. He had the sofest brown hair, and the most adorable, sad brown eyes that one could ever have the pleasure to lay sight upon. Those eyes were an enigma. It was hard to tell if he wwas really sad or not. Those eyes always looked sad, sad and distressed. And as the torn young man stood there, looking out the open window from his motel room at the rising sun, he seemed to be in great dispear. But, who could ever tell? He was always sad anyway.

He was thinking, lost deep in the thoughts that crowded aournd his mind. The emotions that were now choking his heart! He was thinking of his brother. That golden haired tomcat that slept on one of the bed's behind him. Dean Winschester was an impulsive man, witty, saracastic, and strong. Everything Sam knew he could never be. Sam was not strong. He was weak, like a kitten. Not physically weak necessairily, but Sam had never the heart to cause anyone true harm. That is, until he killed Jake. NO!, his mind cried out for him to forget that dreadful event. Yet he could not hlep but see Jake's lifeless body in his mind's eye. And yethe managed to remain emotionless of the event. He only cared because he knew he should, on his own, otherwise, he would have forgot Jake instantly after killing him.

That was what made him different from Dean. Dean was strong, he killed constantly. He was brutal, not merciless, but brutal. Dean was impulsive; Sam was reflective. He had to take his time when considering an important matter, mull it over, make a list of pros and cons. Dean was more rambunctious and foolhardy than that. He acted instantly, by gut feeling; Sam had never trusted his gut.

Dean was witty and sarcastic. He was funny, he was joyful and charming. Sam was not. He was serious, he had to be, it's all he truly knew. He had to be strict, and thoughtful, he didn't understand any other way. Sam was not joyful, he was depressed. It had gotten worse after the death of his beloved Jessica, but he had always been a depressed individual. He just hated life, it was all such bullshit to him. Sam was never charming either, he was awkward and stubborn, and a bit of a klutz. No, he could never seduce a woman like Dean did, not that he wanted to. He hated being dishonest. Ah, another difference between the Winchester brothers.

But now, standing there, thinking of Dean, he realized how much his older brother meant to him. When they were little Dean had always kept him safe and secure, and Dean still carried that heavy burden to this day. He seemed to enjoy protecting Sammy, though Sam never really asked him to. Sam wondered why this was, he always had. But, perhaps now, Dean had taken his protective nature too far.

Sam had died, he as gone from this world. And Dean had done the ultimate sacrifice, as well as the ultimate evil. He had gone to the crossroads. He had summoned the she-devil, he had kissed her, and sealed the deal. One year. One year was so short, not ver long at all, in fact. Yes, it was a better deal thatn their late, beloved father had gotten, but still, a year wasn't much of a bargain.

There was no question as to why Dean ahd done it. In his place, Sam knew he probably would have donw the same to save Dean. Sor would he have? He might have wanted to, wanted to desperately, but would he? Suddenly, Sam was unsure of such. Perhaps he would not. Because, he knew it was wrong, evil to play games, and make deals with the Devil. Did his brother love him more than he loved Dean? The thought gave Sam a dreadful fright, and he shuddered.

But, that was not the point. Dean had promised never to leave him; to always stick by his side. He needed Dean, he needed Dean to take care of him, to watch out for him, even just to hang out with him. When Dean would be taken by the Devil, Sam would truly be all alone in this terrifying world.

From behind him, Sam heard Dean yawn, and sit up.

"What you doing by the window, little buddy?", Dean asked, the usual wit taking over his voice. "Damn you woman, didn't you make me my breakfast yet?!" He ws grinning though, same old Dean Winchester.

Sam turned around on him, looking sullen as always. "I told you I'd save you, and I will, Dean, know that, you must know that I wil find a way to save you."

Dean blinked in a dumbfounded way, then rolled his eyes, and stoo, pulling his robe around himself. "Okay, Sammy, I hear ya there. You're gonna save me. Got it." He walked into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed some water in his face. "Come on, Mr. Sadface, let's go out and get some breakfast. Some eggs, and bacon, and flapjacks, yes I mean pancakes, princess, oh! and som--"

But, Sam was not listening anymore. He had turned back to the window, the sun was now risen. He gripped his hands into fists and said passionately through clenched teeth," I'll save you, Dean. I won't break my promise to you."