Paint you Wings (Destiel)

Chapter 13

Dean's P.O.V.

I knew I wasn't dead.

I mean, I didn't know what death was like and I certainly didn't know if I was wrong but I was pretty sure that even when you're dead you're not dreaming.

But as you can see, the reason why I thought I wasn't dead was that I was dreaming, or remembering things to put it right. I was remembering my past, how my dad abused me, how my mother died. I remembered things I couldn't even actively remember happening but they seemed so real, I knew they weren't just part of my imagination, they had really happened. I didn't understand why that stuff suddenly seemed to come to the surface again but somehow it seemed to be important even though I don't know that importance yet.

*~*

Suddenly I was small again, maybe I had been around 7 in this memory. Sammy and I were sitting in a motel room, cuddling while watching something that appeared to be a Christmas movie. Sammy's eyes were practically glued to the TV while I was watching Sammy, smiling slightly. I loved my little brother and gladly he didn't even realize what was happening most of the time because of his young age.

"Bean?" Sam asked, still not able to say my name properly. I found it quite adorable, it was something that was normal, something that every kid would do. If he would go to a kindergarten, Sam would probably be teased but since they would move soon anyways our father didn't find the sense in putting his younger son into a kindergarten.

Somehow our old man always seemed to pamper Sam, always took his time to talk to the young child. I would be jealous if it wasn't Sam – he deserved it. Sam should at least get something like parental love, should feel like he had a father because I knew something my little brother didn't – I knew that someday that this fatherly love, the proud glint in dad's eyes would disappear and all he would get would be a disappointed, hateful glare. Or maybe that was just for me, dad's own way of telling me that he hated me and that I shouldn't be alive, that Sammy was the perfect son.

"Bean!" Sam exclaimed again, a pout quite prominent on his a little bit chubby face. He just hated being ignored and could get quite annoyed with whoever was ignoring him. I chuckled quietly and ruffled his soft hair, smiling gently. "Yeah?"

Instantly the pout disappeared from his face and he beamed at me, obviously happy that I acknowledged him. Oh, if he just knew that he was the most important person in my life...

"Got you present!" He beamed at me and I furrowed my eyebrows. A present? I knew it was Christmas Eve but I didn't expect to get anything.. I had waited for just one present those three years before and I never got one, so why should I get one now? And Sammy was too young, he wouldn't even be able to buy something.

"Really? That wouldn't have been necessary, Sammy, I don't want anything," I said softly, smiling sadly at him. Of course I wanted a present but... it would just mean so much more if Dad actually remembered and got me something and not just Sammy remembering his older brother. Hell, I would be ecstatic if he just remembered that he had sons and spent Christmas together as a family – but who was I kidding? That would never happen.

As soon as I finished speaking the happiness vanished from the chubby face and his eyes started to fill with tears. "Not liking? Thought you like.." he whispered quietly, looking down. I sighed and hugged my baby brother tightly, not wanting him to be sad. It was too early for him to be sad - the sadness should stay away from him for as long as possible and I would do everything to keep him happy, even if that meant being unhappy myself. Because Sam's happiness was more important than my own.

"Oh, of course I would like your present, Sam.. But I didn't get anything for you, so that would be unfair, don't you think?" I mumbled and looked at him, hoping to see his face light up again which it did, indeed. He scrambled out of my embrace and swaggered over to the bedroom we were sharing, probably getting his present.