Not sure where this came from or where it's set timeline wise, just a bit of sibling fluff.
I own nothing.
By now Dean Winchester is no stranger to fear.
While it never shows in his eyes or in his stance, he's all too familiar to the ice-cold sensation that grips him like a rag doll, shaking until he has no strength left to fight back. He makes a point to never show it in front of Sam, and maybe that's part of the deal that comes with being a big brother. He is a protector, not just from the physical aspects of life but the mental and emotional ones as well. He tries his hardest to help Sam keep his head on straight because as soon as his walls begin to crumble Dean knows the man he's looking at isn't his Sam. It's just a carbon copy whose attempt at impersonation is enough to make Dean cringe.
So he makes it his duty to keep himself in check, the cold exterior he had perfected over the years coming to their aid more than a few times even if it did ward off friends and allies alike. He learned to live with it as long as it kept his baby brother safe. Only now, right now, the facade had crumbled and the mask had slipped to reveal the scared, absolutely terrified man he was.
His boots were thudding against the metal of the staircase, taking two sometimes three at a time, whatever it took to get to the top before he was too late. His cellphone was somewhere a few flights below, had fallen out of his hand as soon as he heard Sam's screams and the line had disconnected. From there things were a bit blurry. All he remembers is running, ignoring the searing pain in his left arm where the bullet from his shotgun had ricocheted, missing one of the demon's they had been hunting and tearing through his skin. He didn't actually notice the trail of scarlet droplets he was leaving behind until now.
Throwing open the door to the roof he looked around frantically, trying to find any sign of Sam but all he saw was the roof. Empty. Barren. He took a few steps forward and cupped his good hand around his mouth, calling out for his little brother.
"Sam! Sammy come on, where are ya?" he walked a few more feet until he was almost at the edge, a good twenty stories above the rest of the city. He opened his mouth to yell again but he was cut off by another voice.
"Dean! Dean I'm down here." It faded off into a whimper and when Dean looked down, he felt his blood turn to ice in his veins, green eyes widening. Sam was a few feet below him, grabbing desperately at the jutted edge of the brick wall and swinging his long legs in an attempt to stay rooted to the spot.
He looked up and caught Dean's eyes, locking onto them instantly.
"Dean." He whimpered again and Dean sprang into action, looking around and trying to find something that could help them.
He cursed under his breath when he saw nothing, knowing they were alone up here, Bobby being the only one who actually knew where they were and without his cellphone he couldn't call and report the situation. He looked at the pole beside him, ignoring the throbbing in his arm as he wound his right one around it and leaned over the edge, extending his hand to Sam who looked at it with worry when he noticed the blood that had seeped through his flannel shirt.
"No Dean, you're hurt. You're not going to be able to hold both of us." He shook his head, long hair flapping against his forehead.
Dean growled and stuck his hand out farther. "Dammit Sam, just take my hand."
With reluctance in his eyes Sam grasped his brother's hand, letting go of the edge of letting Dean support the weight of them both. It was an effort for Dean not to call out, the white-hot pain in his shoulder almost too much. Blood began to flow more freely, the edges of the wound feeling as if they were tearing against the pressure and extra weight. Dean tried to pull him up, but with the wound he was sporting combined with Sam's weight made it nearly impossible to drag him up all the way.
Sam dangled for a few minutes after that, noticing the perspiration that was forming and making their hands slick, the ashen color of Dean's face not making him feel any better. He bit his bottom lip, looking up at Dean again who was trying his absolute hardest to look anywhere except down at him and the reality of the whole situation dawned on him he felt his stomach churning.
"Dean just let go," he finally said. The older Winchester whipped his head around, eyes narrowing as he readjusted his grip on the pole.
"Are you nuts Sammy or have you always wanted to test your nonexistent flying abilities?" he tried hard to keep the gruff tone in his voice, hoping Sam didn't hear him falter but the younger man just shook his head and looked straight into Dean's eyes.
"I mean it Dean. You can't hold us both up forever and if you don't let me go we're both gonna die."
He heard his voice crack and he almost expected Dean to start mocking him, or quoting some movie that had a scene similar to this one but all he saw was his brother violently shake his head, the movement displacing the moisture that had built up in his green eyes.
"You listen up ok, because I'm only going to say this once. I am not letting you go, you hear me? Not now, not ever. So just shut up and hold on a little longer alright?"
Sam was silent after that, swallowing the lump in his throat as he squeezed Dean's hand, feeling the pressure as he squeezed back. He was ready to open his mouth and say something that Dean would probably classify as mushy but the sound of the door swinging open stopped him and he saw Dean straining his neck to see what was happening.
He could hear Bobby's voice, relief flooding over him like cold winter rain and he saw the familiar face peer over the edge at him before morphing into one of horror. He quickly helped Dean drag Sam back up to the top before the older brother slumped the ground, eyes closed as he took in deep breaths and his wounded arm sat motionless in his lap. He knew he had lost a lot of blood and combined with the knowledge that Sam was safe it made him light headed. He could feel Sam huddling beside him, sweaty hands on either side of his face.
Dean cracked his eyes open to look at his baby brother, safe and alive like he should be. He was vaguely aware of Bobby hovering over them but the older man could sense there was something that needed to be said and he muttered something about looking for a towel for Dean's shoulder before disappearing. When he was gone Dean's hand flashed out, gripping the collar of Sam's jacket and pulling him closer until their faces were just inches apart.
"Don't you ever ask me to do that again Sam, ya hear?" he swallowed down the cottony feeling in his mouth, the anger trying it's hardest to creep up because in the end he could never be angry at his little brother.
Sam furrowed his brow at the words, head tilting to the side. "Ask you to do what Dean?"
A few seconds passed before Dean found his voice and he looked directly into Sam's eyes. "Don't you ever ask me to let you go again."