The Best Of Times.


Dean took his eyes from the road to steal a glance at his sleeping brother.

Sam's mouth was hanging slightly open, his head flopped back against the seat, his undisciplined hair doing its own thing as it always did, despite his brother's attempts to keep it under control.

Dean's full lips curled up in a smile.

Sam always slept soundly in the Impala, It had cradled him tenderly since he was six months old, and anyway his little brother knew that Dean watched over him better than any guardian angel.

Much, much better, for angels had no soul.

They couldn't love, not like humans could, and Dean's love for his brother transcended space and time. There was nothing he wouldn't do for him, no living being he wouldn't kill to protect him, no world he wouldn't lay waste to save him.

Dean had accepted that now. That was just how it was. Sammy came before everything and he didn't regret it, not one little bit.


He had experienced life without his brother when Sam was in the Cage, and although he had acted out the part of a suburban husband and father almost to perfection, inside he had been dead; a zombie gong through the motions of living, while suffering along with his little brother.

Oh, he remembered alright! He remembered the nightmares when he awoke screaming Sam's name while poor Lisa held on to him and tried to soothe him as best she could.

It would never happen again; life without his brother by his side was not an option!

Banishing the terrible memories to the depths of his subconscious, he dragged his eyes back to the road. It was empty except for the Impala; a black ribbon that stretched enticingly towards the unknown.


An image came to mind of some years ago, before the Apocalypse shit had come down; a younger Sam with bangs and a hoodie, sleeping just as he was now.

He had slipped a plastic spoon into his little brother's open mouth and taken a picture. He grinned as he remembered Sam's bitchy expression when he had woken up.

God, it seemed so long ago, but they say history repeats itself and who was Dean to argue with history; so he reached a hand back to the rear seat, his fingers stretching until he retrieved a plastic spoon that was still in the empty coffee cup. He inserted it gently into his brother's open mouth, pulled out his phone and took a picture.

He still had the old one saved in his phone and when Sam surfaced from the land of nod, he would tease his brother with them both. Dean was already anticipating Sam's pissed expression on finding the spoon in his mouth.

Yeah, he would be bitch-faced from here to eternity!


He gripped the wheel tighter and pressed down on the gas.

He had Sam at his side, the Impala under his ass and the open road ahead. It was everything Dean Winchester had ever wanted.