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I know it's over

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Sam sat on the pier. It was getting dark, but he really didn't mind, Dean wouldn't be home until early morning and his little brother was completely content to sit oceanside until he does so. Waiting up for him like a housewife even though those days are long gone. 

Sam was young, maybe 12 when it started, the kissing on the lips, holding hands, the silly little romantic gestures. But it was over now. Last year, Dean decided that this was 'too weird'. This thing they had. Dean had broken it off and broken Sam's heart. 

'I was a stupid kid, Sammy! I know, you think you love me that way, but you don't, I don't! Get over it!'

"Maybe I'm still a stupid kid," Sam wondered aloud, tears welling up. "Maybe I shouldn't be here..."

He wondered about his mother often, where she was, what she must have been thinking as she died. The fact that it was his fault. 

'If I wasn't here, she'd be alive right now,' Sam pondered, 'Dean would be happy and normal. Dad wouldn't be so harsh. Everything would have been so perfect,' the tears began to fall, 'if only I didn't exist...'

Maybe that's why Dean hated him so much. He ruined his life. Forced him into hunting just as much as Dad and Dean had done so to Sam. He had taken the precious childhood that his big brother so often recounted. He destroyed the happiness of the love of his life. 

He wished he'd joined his mother. Wish he'd died of SIDS or of smallpox or anything, it just had to have happened before he was six months old. He could already feel the soil around him, hushing him to rest, soothing him with constant pressure of what might have been. The box surrounding his body at the time would now be replaced with a pyre. If his body was ever found, that is. 

He's been trapped for so long, tired, angry, then energetic, but too sad to move. Then he was broken up with. 

Though, he supposed, it wasn't a breakup if there was no relationship to start...

His heart clenched, his brain replaying moments of love, of Dean's affection and attention and love

How could Dean say that it was nothing?

Making everything seem so much more appealing than living.

Getting crushed by a car was better than going back to the hotel room of the week without a 'welcome home' kiss. 

Getting lost in the city was better than seeing Dean again without saying those three words.

The knife calling for him to just slit his wrists more appealing than seeing Dean with somebody else.

The pull of the sea, waiting for him to enter and get lost much easier to cope with than living with this any longer. 

He didn't want to hear Dean say anything. 

Not about how funny he was or how clever he was. How much of a charming kid he could be or how entertaining he was. He didn't want Dean to compliment his hair or his face or his legs. Talking about how easily he'd get a girlfriend or boyfriend. 

'If you're so great, then why did Dean leave you? Why are you all alone, sitting on a wall near the sea? Why does Dean not care that you're going to die? If he loves you so much, then why isn't he here for you?' Sam yelled at himself internally. 'If you're so loved, then why do you want so badly to die? I know exactly why, Sammy. Because that's just what you are. Alone. Nobody wants you, nobody requires your existence. Without Dean, you're a nobody.'

And he believed it so easily. His head seemed so clear. He couldn't believe that he hadn't killed himself earlier. 

He imagined Dean coming back from his newest fling's house (away from someone better than him) and notice that Sam was gone. He saw Dean calling him, angry, and eventually, giving up, not giving Sam enough energy to care about him missing. Sam was sure he didn't deserve that energy. 

Sam didn't have energy himself really. 

He imagined Dad coming back, a bit upset that Sam was lost, but really, nobody cared. It was all for show. Attempted proof to themselves that they were good people. He was useless anyways...

Sam was so tired.

He pictured how much easier Dean's life will be after this.

He can almost hear Dean's voice. 

He relaxed his body, allowing himself to fall into the water in a dead man, or soon to be dead man's, float.

He almost fell asleep with the lull of imaginary Dean's voice when hands grabbed him. He was about to protest, but he was so tired. The pills he took earlier finally catching up to him, he melted into the hands, falling unconcious. 

Chapter Text

Dean was on his way home from his latest fling's place. Macy or Jamie or something. He's stopped remembering their names forever ago.

All he knew them as was 'not Sammy.' 

He hated himself for it,  he honestly did, but somehow, nobody could replace his Sammy. 

He tried to stop it, cut it off. If he couldn't stop himself, he'd protect Sam from himself.

He adored the kid. Since Dean was 14, he found himself enamored with his kid brother. When he was 16, he acted on it. 

It was so great at first, the affection, the kisses and hugs, the cuddles and bed sharing. Having Sammy all to himself. 

But God, did he hate himself for it. 

His job was to protect Sammy. To keep hold safe. Safe from monsters, safe from people like him.

He hated the look in Sam's eyes when he ended it, but he knew that it was for the best. Eventually, the younger would see it too. He'd rather Sam hate him now for ending it than later for not. 

He refused to hurt his little brother. 

It was hard. Seeing the kid and just wanting to scoop him up and never let him go, repeat how much he loves him over and over until the little geek finally realizes just how amazing he was. But he couldn't, he was corrupting Sam, hurting him, he didn't want to be the one to destroy his life. 

So, he'd give in to the feelings of badwrongdirtyhe'syourlittlebrotheryou'resick! and push the kid away. He'd get an immeasurable amount of energy and do what he does best, protect Sammy. 

His spiral of being more emo than his sixteen year old brother was cut off when he heard a broken whisper.

"Maybe I'm still a stupid kid..." he heard Sam sigh. "Maybe I shouldn't be here..."

Dean turned his head in a desperate attempt to find Sam. The only thought in his mind being the thought constantly front and center. The sentence he lived by since he was four.

Protect Sammy

He heard sniffing, whimpering, and finally found him. His lanky frame growing tall, keeping skinny. His brown hair shaggy and in his face, but you could tell he was crying. 

Protect Sammy. Why'shecryingwhathappenedprotectsammy!

He sat and watched for an amount God probably doesn't even know. Because if there was a God, then Sam would be back in the hotel, sleeping and happily dreaming, not sitting on a wall all by himself, crying. Breaking Dean's heart.

What'swrongwhathappenedprotectsammywhyissammysadwhyishecryingprotectsammyprotectsammy!

Sam started to get shaky and Dean was preparing to take him home, when the kid just fell. A leap that had no energy, face first into the water.

Holyshithefellhe'sinthewaterprotectsammyprotectsammyPROTECTSAMMY!

He didn't even need to think about it. No process went on in Dean's mind as he leapt into the water. It was cold, but he could hardly feel it with the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had Sammy in his arms in less than a minute, pulling him ashore and checking his vitals. He was unconscious, breathing after short CPR, he seemed fine, but Dean was too full of worry to put him down, even after entering the hotel. 

He changed both of their clothes, and held Sam tight. He drifted off, for the first time in too long, with his baby brother right where he belonged. In his arms, safe and sound.

At least for tonight.