SPN Oneshots

Crossing Over

Art by Wincestily on Tumblr

Ever since they were little Sam and Dean had been practically inseparable.

They rarely left each other's sides unless they were angry at each other, but even then they never stayed mad for long. Sam and Dean always made up eventually. Even when Sam had left for Stanford, the two of them found a way back together. They had to stick together; they were the only family that either of them had left. Just the two of them, Sam and Dean fighting against the world as it tried to tear them down.

Ever since the fire, Dean had felt responsible for Sam. He was the one who was supposed to keep his brother safe. That's what his father would tell him, and Dean took those words to heart. Even now, years later, Dean still had that same protective, big brother instinct. Sam could look after himself now –at least most of the time– but Dean would never stop watching out for his baby brother.

In his head, Dean could still picture seven-year-old Sam holding his hand as they watched cars whizzing by, waiting for a lull in the traffic. Dean was only eleven, so young but left with so much responsibility. He wanted to put a smile on Sam's chubby cheeks, so they were venturing to a tiny bookstore right outside of town. Dean had seen it when their dad had driven them into the town.

When the flow of cars came to a steady stop, Dean had looked down at his little brother's eager face and asked, "You ready to cross Sammy?"

Dean remembered Sam looking up at him and giving him a toothy grin as he said, "Yeah, I'm ready Dean."

Then, together the two of them had rushed across the street, Sam chattering excitedly about all the books he wanted to find.

Now, nearly 25 years later, Dean looked at his brother lying on the ground beside him.

He was bloody, bruised and battered, bleeding profusely from a massive gash across his stomach.

Sam was losing too much blood. He was dying.

Sam was dying, and Dean couldn't do anything to stop it, not this time.

They had been hunting, working a case together when everything had gone wrong. The creature was thankfully dead now, but not before inflicting serious damage.

Dean tried to smile at Sam, grinning through the pain. Sam looked back, his face creased with pain too as he forced his own sad smile.

They both knew that this was it. There was no turning back.

As Dean moved, he felt pain split across his chest. He had a hand pressed tightly over the gash in his own chest.

Dean was dying too.

Their bodies were both in ribbons, blood flowing freely from their wounds. Dean was going against all his brotherly instincts and wasn't trying to save Sam. Not this time.

Instead, he was trying to slow the bleeding of his own wound. He knew it wouldn't do much good; he was still going to die –sooner rather than later.

They had fought their final battle, and now the Winchester's were reaching their end. They were dying a hero's death.

"Looks like this is the end of the road for us, Sammy," Dean wheezed as he felt his lungs slowly collapsing.

Sam coughed his breathing wet and labored. He spat up blood before saying, "Y-yeah, it looks like it. Look at h-how far we made it. H-how much good w-we did..."

Dean smiled at Sam, blood staining his once pearly white teeth. "I-I'm p-proud of us S-Sammy," Dean choked as he watched the pool of blood around them grow steadily bigger.