Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Dean POV
I remember. Oh, I remember it exactly. The moment I held Sam in my arms for the first time, I knew. Oh, not all of it, of course. Not even the half of it. But I knew, somewhere deep down inside me, that he was for me, and I for him. I knew that I had been waiting my entire life (all four years of it) to feel this perfect and complete inside, and I knew that now that I had found what I was looking for, there was no way I was ever going to let it go. Sammy was mine to protect, and that was that.
Well, let me back up a bit. I remember waiting while Mom was pregnant, placing my little hands over her swelling belly and thinking that I felt something special in there. She always told me that my little brother or sister knew and liked me already - pre-baby Sam would always squirm when he could hear my voice. When my hands were there, I could feel him kicking and reaching, like he knew I was right there, trying to connect with him, and he, too, was already seeking that connection.
I remember the night Dad shook me awake, and said we needed to go, the baby was coming. I sat in the little waiting room in the hospital for hours, kicking my feet (which couldn’t even reach the floor) and waited patiently, alone. Even back then, Dad didn't trust his family with anyone. He would rather I be down the hall, in a waiting room by myself, than waiting in some stranger's home for a call from him. I fully agreed. I wanted - needed - to be there.
Nurses kept giving me those pitying stares, like I had been abandoned and forgotten. They took turns, coming over with offers of lollipops and books; toys and games. One asked if I would like to go play with some of the other children in the children's ward. I always shook my head. "I'm waiting for my brother."
Mom and Dad weren't sure if it was a boy or a girl, but somehow, that night, I just knew that I was going to have a brother. Sam says I have more psychic abilities than I like to admit. I insist they only ever relate to knowledge about him. But I digress.
Hours later, when Dad entered the waiting room to retrieve me, a bright smile on his face, I leaped off my chair and ran into his arms. He scooped me up, and carried me down the corridor, past the disapproving frowns of the nurses, and didn't even notice. I think he knew, just like me, that our family was now, finally, complete.
He pushed open the hospital room door, and there Mom sat, sweaty and exhausted and so incredibly beautiful, I swear my eyes teared up a little. Then, she looked down to the bundle in her arms and said, "Dean, come and meet your new brother."
Dad set me down on the edge of the bed, and I crawled until I was sitting next to Mom, shoulder to, well, her elbow, I guess, with my back pressed to the pillows, and positioned my arms just like hers, ready to accept the bundle from her. Without another word, she leaned down, placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead, and gently placed him in my arms.
Most other children get the warnings - gentle now, support his head, don't move - but Mom knew I knew. God, she always knew. Maybe that's where he gets some of it from.
The bundle warm in my arms, I nudged the blanket and the wool beanie aside, and finally gazed upon the face of my brother for the first time. And, really, that was it. "Sammy..." I whispered, never having heard that they had already named him Samuel Winchester upon birth. I just knew - he was my Sammy.
Upon hearing his name said with my child lips, he opened his eyes, and reached out toward me. I adjusted my hand, and he latched into my pointer finger with his small, perfect little fist...
A wash of warmth and light and happiness overwhelmed me, filling up all the little dark corners and crevices in my small body that I didn't even know were there – the places where the feelings lost and lonely live. Love infused every bit of me, and cycled right back into the little body I held cradled in my small, protective arms. We were tied, linked, and it was more perfect than anything I could ever remember. It was better than presents on Christmas, and lullabies sang with Mom's pretty voice, and play wrestling with Dad. It was amazing. And it was all mine, as long as I wanted it.
I couldn't imagine ever not wanting it. And that was that.