First foray into fanfic for a while. I am rusty methinks. But I thought I'd dabble with some Dean angst/Season five fic to try to get back into writing after months of nothing. Hm. It's a bit on the meh side, I think, but I'm done messing with it. It's sort of a drabble because I based it off one word (simple, if anyone cared) but I've clearly not stuck to word limits. Mhm.
So... have some Dean-centric babble.

Looking after his brother hasn't exactly been simple, Dean knows that. But from the moment dad told him it was his job, he'd taken it on full time. It was his responsibilty; Sam was his responsibilty, and he knew that from the moment dad told him to run.

Getting a plaster when Sammy fell off the swing on a long-awaited trip to the playground? Dean did it.
Helping him with his reading when dad was too tired and too wrapped up in himself to even look at the book? Dean did that too.
Checking the doors and windows were locked and salted after dad left so they could both sleep safely, even if Dean sat up long after Sam went to bed? He had that covered.
Breaking the nose of a guy who pushed his little brother around for the first semester of high school? He actually kind of enjoyed doing that.
Defending Sam when dad yelled at him for wanting to apply to colleges? He'd had to practically force the words out, but he'd done it, for Sam.
Driving by Stanford every so often just to check his brother was still breathing? Dean considered it a duty to undertake with the seriousness of a small hunt.
Calming him down, comforting, when Sam woke in the middle of the night with nightmares after Jessica? Sometimes Dean didn't sleep at all, just sat and waited for the dreams to start.
Keeping an eye on Sammy on every job, even though Sam said he was old enough to look out for himself, and insisted it was 'Sam' now? Dean had still watched his back, and revelled in calling him Sammy at every opportunity.
Handing over his soul just to see Sam alive again? He would've done anything.
Doing the best he could in his last year to get Sam ready to go it alone? He mentally marked each day off as it passed, fear building.
Trying to get his brother off the damn demon blood?
Trying to find anything he could that would mean Sam didn't have to go to Hell?
Trying everything to find a way out, a loophole, anything?
He'd tried so goddamn hard. Sam had assured him Lucifer had it wrong, nothing would make him say yes; but Dean had still done everything in his power to make it a certainty. He knows what Hell is like.

But it wasn't enough. Nothing he's done, he realises, has done any good. It was all for nothing. And now, even backed up against the Impala, blow after blow raining down on him, he finds old habits die hard.
"It's okay." There's no hesitation in the punches. "It's okay. I'm here." All trace of his brother is gone from Sam's eyes now. "I'm here, I'm not gonna leave you." He chokes on the words, but he tries to reach the part of his brother hidden away at the back of Sam's head. "I'm not gonna leave you."

Dean will do his job, until the end.
Even if it kills him.