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"Close your eyes, Sammy."
Sam scrambled back, eyes wide on the slithering shadows. He could see two dark orbs that glittered like a million little stars stuck in their back drop. He couldn't look away. He wanted to so bad, but he couldn't stop staring as the shadows moved closer and closer.
His back hit the wall between the bed and the dresser, forcing a pained gasp from him. He clutched at anything he could get a hold of, finding purchase in the loose pant leg of Dean's jeans when his brother stood between him and the... the...
"Dean!"
"Close your eyes, Sammy! It's just... it's just a bad dream. Close your eyes, okay? I'm doing it too. Close your eyes and it's not there. So close your eyes, Sammy."
Dean was shaking like a leaf. There was a gun in his hands. Sam couldn't breathe, he was so scared. A terrible shriek filled the air and felt like knifes stabbing Sam's ears. He wanted to cover them to shut out the sound but couldn't let go of Dean.
"Sammy!"
Sam closed his eyes and the creature shrieked again. He almost didn't hear the blast of the gun shot.
"So... vampires? Really?"
The army man walked along the backseat, then right over Dean's arm. Dean shook him off with a glower that Sam just ignored and walked the green army man over Dean's hand. He yanked it away and glared so hard he looked like he was trying to take a dump. Sam smiled toothily at him.
"This is serious, Sam! Fangs are a big deal and Dad's gotta take them down. If you ever saw one, you wouldn't be acting like such a bitch."
"Dad doesn't like it when you say bad words," Sam reminded in a sing song voice that said he totally planned on telling Dad when he came back from hunting vampires. If they were even real.
"Jerk," he added as a brilliant final shot. When Dean didn't retaliate, Sam looked up, pouting. He was bored. Dean was supposed to entertain him, even if through bickering and noogies. But Dean was being so boring, staring at the back window nervously. Sam pouted harder, bottom lip trembling, knowing Dean would break any minute.
Something moved in the corner of his eye.
"Dean?" It came out of no where, crashing into the side passenger door. Sam screamed and threw himself back while Dean scrabbled for the knife under the front passenger seat. Teeth. It had teeth, rows full of sharp, horrible teeth that dripped with blood. It pounded against the door.
"Dean!"
"Close your eyes Sammy!"
"But Dean!"
"Just do it!"
Sam slammed his eyes shut just as the window shattered. The vampire let out an inhuman roar then next thing Sam knew something warm and wet was splashing over his face.
"Oh God."
She floated towards him, her smile as bright as he remembered. Sam stared at her, rooted to the spot. His heart pounded in his throat. Behind him he could hear Dean struggling with the monster's partner in crime. Sam couldn't help him even if he tried.
"Sam, it's not her!"
"Jessica," Sam breathed as she came closer with open arms.
"C'mon, Sam! Jessica is dead, and you will be too if you don't kill it!"
Dead. Almost a year to the day. Sam still missed her with all he had. He would never forgive himself for her death. So beautiful, so kind and clever. The world lost something special with her death. It should have been him.
"Dean, I can't."
"Then close your eyes, Sammy."
Sam could see Dean in his peripheral vision. The other monster dissipated in ash and smoke. Jessica reached her hand out to Sam. His right hand began to lift.
"Close your eyes, baby boy. I've got this." Squeezing hot tears out of the corner of his eyes, Sam closed them on a slow, painful exhale. He felt the waft of air as the monster was dealt with.
"Dean, I can't do it anymore. Please, I can't take this. He's..." Sam's breath hitched as warm hands clasped his face. Tear filled hazels met resolute green that then morphed into the cold, blue stare of Lucifer. Sam whimpered and the tears fell.
"Close your eyes, Sammy," Dean whispered. He could still hear his brother's voice, but it was Lucifer he saw. His eyes that Sam felt like he was drowning in.
"It's going to be okay, Sam. Just close your eyes."
"I'll still see him," Sam said brokenly. Lucifer grinned.
"No you won't. Trust me."
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Sam closed his eyes. Lips pressed to his, shocking his system. He shook and Dean's hands gently stroke over his jawline. Dean's hands. Warm and callused. Not the cold touch of the Morningstar. Searing lips, slightly chapped, moved over his, coaxing. Sam made a broken sound and clutched at Dean's shoulders. Dean's lips pressed more firmly against his while his thumbs brushed away tears. Flannel crushed under his white knuckled grip. The cut in his hand burned but he didn't see Lucifer nor hear his malicious laughter.
There was only Dean.
Sam kissed back.
The hard wood floors dug into Sam's knees. He was getting too old to take the abuse, though the bright, white pain of his battered face kind of won that round. And yet, somehow, neither was comparable to the throbbing agony of his chest as he stared up at Dean. Having his heart ripped out hurt less, and after his time in the cage, Sam should know.
"Close your eyes, Sammy."
Tears fell but Sam couldn't do it. It was the one time he couldn't follow that order. No matter how much Dean demanded or plead, Sam wasn't going to close his eyes that time. He was going to burn Dean into his retinas, even if Dean was the reason why his brother would be the last thing he saw.
His last act was making sure that Dean would remember one day that he was loved. That he was good. That when he returned those pictures would be there to remind him of Sam's willing sacrifice and why he did it. Then he stared his brother right in the eyes, facing Death with all the bravery he could muster, and bore his neck to the scythe that Death handed Dean.
He was ready to die, for Dean. Because no matter what Dean said or did to him, Sam loved him. He would always love him. Sam just hoped that Dean remembered that when it was all said and done and didn’t hate himself too much. Didn’t waste Sam’s sacrifice.
But then Dean asked for forgiveness. Sam’s heart broke for his brother and his last act became him closing his eyes after all. For Dean. He could give that to his brother. That one last thing; absolution.
Sam felt it swing over his head. His eyes snapped open in time to watch the scythe embed itself into the chest of the monster, of Death, whom had failed like all the rest to kill Sam on Dean's watch.