Warnings: Typical Dean angst.
Spoilers: The first scene of the series.
Word Count: 232
Notes/Prompt(s): My first posted spn fanfiction. This is a drabble that was meant to be a longer, introspective piece, but it felt finished. If interest is shown, I'll finish it. Because it's a drabble, it's posted on my twitter which will host most of my drabbles, depending on post count.
Summary: Dean is four years old the first time he realizes it.
Dean is four years old the first time he realizes it.
He is standing on a sidewalk, holding little Sammy – fragile little Sammy – and watching his world burn down; he is four years old and he is powerless.
Dean doesn't remember much before the concept of Sam. Even at this age, his first solid memory is of mommy and daddy telling him that there's going to be a baby.
"What's its name?" Dean had asked because sometimes things had names and he'd been a baby once too.
Mom smiled at him, a sad little smile that Dean was very familiar with.
"Sam," she had said and her voice had been as soft and warm as sunshine. "We don't know if it's a baby brother or sister, but we're going to call it Sam."
And so the concept of Sam had been born and Dean had felt bigger than he'd ever felt before. There was something tiny and delicate growing in mommy's tummy and Dean understood enough about big brothers to know that it would be his to protect. At the age of three, he thought this was possible. He thought he could.
Just over a year later, he knows that he is very small and can't save the world, because it's burning down right in front of him and all he can do is hold on to Sammy and hope that's enough.