Dean Winchester was condemned the very first day his mother brought the little bundle home. Her eyes were tired, but a little sparkle shone through the sense of lack of sleep. He didn't understand the excitement; not ready to share his attention at all with another family member. Thus, he refused to take interest, begging his father to play; trying to avert his mother's never dying attention to the new comer. Watching dejectedly as she placed the bundle in the crib, he just stared as she exited the room with one more sweet word.
That's when he sprung into action, standing on his tippy toes to see into the crib, to see the intruder of his household. Finding it impossible, he set to work dragging the rocking chair stool across the room, finding it heavier than he realized. At last, a little out of breath and quite proud of himself for his cleverness, he clambered atop it and gripped the edge of the crib. Looking down, it was as if the whole world had stopped. There, sleeping peacefully was a little baby.
Its eyes opened to look up at him, giant hazel orbs in the middle of the small face. Struggling to reach his hand down, Dean's fingers brushed over the babies head. It made a soft noise, reaching its hand up to feebly grasp his finger in its hand. Dean felt like he could melt, he just stared down at the baby, his little brother. His little brother. "Sammy," he whispered, sure that the baby could understand him. "I love you Sammy." Then, even though his attention was now divided, it was worth it.
Dean was condemned that first night Sam was inevitably placed in his care. The flames from the house still made his cheeks feel warm and hot, and his fingers still longed to grasp his little brother in his hands, whom was now being cradled by his father. Bright lights flashed around him, causing him to blink repeatedly and occasionally look away. He knew what had happened; the fire took away his mom. He wanted to cry, he really did! Even his dad had stains on his cheeks.
"Deany, take Sammy for a moment." His father's quiet, defeated voice said. Then, the bundle was in his arms once more, and he gently squeezed his little brother close. The giant hazel eyes stared up at him, and though the night's events shook Dean to his core, it was worth it.
Dean was condemned that first day when Sam begged for Dean to teach him to ride without training wheels. "Aw come on, Dean! I can do it! I really can!" Dean still gripped the back of the seat, not wanting to let go even though Sam insisted on it. His little brother pedaled harder and Dean sped up to keep his grip.
"Are you sure? You really want me to let go?" Dean asked again, grabbing the seat even harder, feeling surprisingly emotional.
"Yes! Let go already!" Sam yelled again, speeding up once more, his sneakers a blur.
"Ok, I'm letting go!" Then, Dean released his hold on the bike, his eyes wide as he watched his little brother wobble a little and then regain its steady course. Sam let out a triumphant laugh and Dean smiled. "That's it, Sammy!" Pride coursed through him momentarily, before suddenly Sam let out a little cry as his bike hit a giant stick in the way and he went sprawling.
"Sam!" He yelled, taking off towards his brother, his heart beating in his ears. When he reached him, Sam laid spread across the grass in hysterics. He was laughing! Laughing! Dean felt brief relief, anger for causing momentary panic, and then felt himself let out a laugh too. Sam rolled, grabbing at his stomach as he tried to speak in between laughs, "Can we-d-do it a-again? Tha-that was f-fun!" He rolled onto his back, his giggles subsiding only a little.
Dean tried to give him a severe stare, but his eyes strayed to the bike. He frowned, it looked like the chain on it was a goner, and it would take some work to fix. But, looking back at his laughing brother, warmth filled him from head to toe, it was worth it.
Dean was condemned that first night when Sam had a nightmare. He had a huge test the next day, causing him to go to bed considerably early compared to his usual slacking off, the teacher had even pulled him aside, telling him he'd fail the eighth grade if he didn't pass. But, wrenching him from his peaceful rest was his little brother's screams and thrashes. Rolling from bed, he rubbed at his eyes and stumbled to his feet, dazed and confused by the sudden panic.
Understanding dawning, he half dashed, half fell to Sam's bed, shaking his lanky form, "Sam! Sammy! Wake up!" Sam thrashed once more before opening wild hazel eyes, a few stray bangs covering them.
"Dean! Dean!" Sam yelled, gripping Dean's arms in a panic.
"Hey, hey, it's all right! I'm right here, it was just a nightmare, ok, I'm right here." He repeated soothingly, the soft course of his quiet voice making his little brother breathe deeply and slowly relax.
He let out a tremble, "There was fire." He whispered, staring up at Dean with wide, imploring eyes, "There was fire everywhere! And-and I couldn't find you!" Sam broke off abruptly, letting out a soft whimper.
Dean's breath caught and he felt pain at seeing Sam so scared, he couldn't do anything about nightmares! Just deal with the aftermath. Pulling Sam close to him, he said, "Well, I'm here now, all right? And I'm not going anywhere. Just go back to sleep, Sammy." He brushed Sam's bangs aside, rocking him slightly back and forth, "Just go back to sleep."
"Dean?" Sam whispered, his eye lids fluttering, "Stay….please." Then, his breathing became even and soft as he fell back to sleep. Dean grasped his brother tighter, glancing at the clock grudgingly, he'd be tired tomorrow. But, taking in Sammy's sleeping form in his arms, it was worth it.
Dean was condemned that very first day Sam began high school. His little brother had gotten up extra early, making sure to be ready and at the door waiting anxiously for his older brother. Dean gave a slight grin as he rushed down the stairs, almost late, when he took in Sam's impatient form. Grabbing his jacket, he opened the door and said, "You know, Sammy, if you're always this serious it will get you no where in high school. Trust me, buddy, I know."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Oh, and I suppose I should not do anything at all, like you, right Dean?"
Dean smiled widely, "Right!"
Sam laughed, but Dean could tell that he was nervous about high school. He shook his head; his brother had to learn how to have fun!
Leaving Sam off with a wish of luck, Dean headed to his own classes with a lazy grin, relishing the look all the girl's would give him when he walked through the door purposely late, pretending not to notice their sparkling stares. Oh, well, he hated biology anyway, and algebra, and chemistry and Spanish. Ok, he hated every subject. Who cared anyway?
"Hey! Dean man! How's it goin?" Dean stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face the new comer. Running towards him with a crazy grin and wild, mischievous eyes was none other than Nick Sprinter. Most called him Ole Saint Nick because of the irony in it. He probably had the biggest reputation in the school; Dean was actually surprised he hadn't been transferred already!
"Hey, Nick! What's up?" Dean greeted him, but continued walking, knowing his dad would be pissed if he got a detention for missing half the class on the first day!
A little out of breath, Nick caught up with him, matching Dean's pace while adjusting his back pack, "Dude, you have to come with me right now! A fight's about to start down in front of the cafeteria."
Dean stopped in his tracks, a horrible feeling starting to spread through him. "A fight?"
Nick was still grinning, his eyes flashing with excitement, "Yeah, Bob's girl friend broke up with him last night so he was looking to just beat the crap out of someone, and this tiny little freshman bumped into him, he flipped out!"
Dean stared hard at Nick, already turning towards the cafeteria, "What did the kid look like?"
Nick, hesitating, gave him a weird look, "Umm, he was really tall and had long brown hair. Why, man?"
Eyes wide, Dean took off at a run, "Dude, that's my brother!"
Dashing through the halls, not caring when he bumped and pushed people aside, he silently cursed. If Bob had hurt Sam he'd kill him! Arriving at the scene, a huge crowd of people were gathered, cheering and laughing! God, how could they be laughing! Pushing his way through, he finally could see what was going on, and why exactly they were laughing.
Bob was big and strong, but clumsy. Sam, on the other hand, had had years of training from their father, years of hunting and conditioning. Yeah, Bob picked a fight, but he wasn't winning. Dean stood for a moment, surprised as Bob lunged at Sam over and over and his little brother slid and dodged out of the way, getting a hit in every now and then.
Bob's face was red with anger and suddenly he said, "Guys, get him!" Along the edges of the crowd behind Sam were two of Bob's friends, about as big and about as smart as him too. Dean's breath caught and he tried to yell a warning, but it was too late. They were on Sam with a second, pinning him to the ground, their fists flying. Running forward, Dean was furious. He wasn't even sure who he was hitting; all he knew was that they had hurt his brother. And he only stopped when a loud voice said, "That is ENOUGH!"
The chaos suddenly seized, the crowd dashing to escape. Oh great, it was the principal. "What do you think your doing? Fighting in the school hall ways! This is a place of learning, not a boxing arena! All of you, in my office right now!"
Bob and his two friends remained silent, their threatening stares boring into him as the slowly began to follow him. Dean's breathing was hard, and he didn't move until he heard someone say, "D-Dean?"
Snapping out of it, he spun around, "Sam, Sammy, are you okay?" He immediately started to look his brother over. His face was bleeding; he'd have some bruises the next day. But other than that, he was okay. Relief washed through him and he gave a smile. "Thanks, Dean." He said, his giant eyes bright and sincere. His dad would be ticked at them for getting in trouble the first day, but it was worth it.
Dean was condemned that very first day his brother was almost ripped away from him. "Dean! Get down!" Sam's voice yelled. Instinctively dropping to the floor at the command, Dean was aware of something crashing into the wall above him, where his head had been only moments before. "Damn spirit." He muttered. God, where was his frickin gun!
Sam was scrambling to retrieve his own gun, the debris in the room making movement almost impossible. Now would have been the perfect time for John to come bursting in! But, glancing at the doors that the angry spirit had sealed, he dismissed that hopeful thought. Suddenly, the kitchen table slid across the floor, barely missing Dean as he dived out of the way.
The cabinets were flying open, plates and dishes flinging themselves every which way, the giant china cabinet falling forward and catching Sam in the hip, causing him to yell out. He could see the spirit in the corner of the room, its figure fuzzy and blurred. Dean's eyes zeroed in on his sawed off and he dived for it.
Gripping it in his hands, he dug into his pockets for the rock salt, feeling the wind whistle in his ears as more things were flown. Jesus, the room was a tornado! Finally, the gun loaded, he cocked it and aimed it up where the spirit still floated, when he saw what was about to happen.
The knives in their holder on the counter shook precariously. "Sam!" He yelled, but his little brother was pulling himself to his feet from being knocked over, it was too late. He looked up just in time to see them come zooming at him. He tried to move to the side, but one caught him just below the ribs. "Sammy!" Dean screamed, feeling his stomach give way.
He shot his gun, the boom of it not even registering in his mind. The rock salt hit the spirit, bursting into the wall behind it. Throwing his gun aside, he was pushing his way across the destroyed room in an instant. Sam was on his knees, his hand over the wound. "Sam, Sammy!"
Gripping his brothers shoulders, he looked into his brothers pain filled eyes, "Look at me, Sammy, it's gonna be all right, you hear."
Sam's eye lids slightly fluttered, but he met Dean's gaze with confidence. Ripping his coat off, Dean pressed it against the wound, already pulling Sam to his feet, supporting his brother's weight. He was sore all over, and he ached, but it was worth it.
Dean was condemned that very first day when Sam knocked on his door with big news. News that would rip his family apart. "Dean," Sam said, his eyes bright and excited. "Dean I have to tell you something." Dean was sitting on his bed, and he glanced up at him from his open magazine.
"Sure, what is it?" He was distracted, and sure that whatever Sam had to tell wasn't really that important.
Walking over to Dean's bed, Sam sat down, "Dean, I got accepted!"
Looking up at Sam, Dean said, "Accepted into what?"
Sam seemed slightly annoyed, but it didn't beat the excitement, "Stanford, Dean! I got accepted into Stanford!"
Dean just stared at him for a second before throwing the magazine aside, "Sam, what are you talking about, you're not going to college."
Sam eyes hardened, "Geez, Dean, don't get too excited, you might pull something."
Dean stood up, "You can not just leave."
Sam stood up also, his eyes wide, "Dean, its just college. You didn't really expect me to hunt my whole life, did you?"
Dean hesitated, should he go with anger or understanding. Anger. "So you're just going to abandon us, run away like a coward!"
Sam flinched away from Dean, seeking the door. "Look Dean, you can't stop me, ok. I thought you'd be happy for me, but I guess I was wrong!"
Immediately contrite with himself, Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "No, Sam, wait." His little brother stopped, turning around, his eyebrows high, his hazel eyes expecting.
Dean gave him a gentle smile, "I'm sorry, man. I am happy for you, it's just…" He trailed off.
Sam smiled back, "It's ok Dean. I won't leave for awhile yet." Those words hit Dean like a truck, Sam was leaving. His Sam. But, staring into those happy eyes, it was worth it.
Dean was condemned that first day he went to get Sam at Stanford, that first day he saw his brother's whole life crumple when Jess died, that first day he had a vision, that first day he got through to him after their father's death, that first day he eluded Gordon, that first day he died in his arms, that first day Sam swore to save Dean's life, that first day of every day of Dean's last year, that very first day he crawled from his grave after four months in hell.
Dean was condemned that very first day he found out the truth about his brother, the truth about what had happened while he was gone. The truth that though he was furious, made him understand what was behind those giant, hazel eyes was simply his little Sammy.
Dean was condemned to love his brother more than anything in the world the very first day his mother brought the little bundle home…