#gencest drabble

[joeldjarinmylove]

having thoughts about mutual masturbation with sam and dean.. them being so casual about it because it's not sex, they're just doing something fun together, sharing another part of their lives. it's not like they're touching each other or anything.

they start late one night at a motel, sam thinks dean's asleep, hears his shallow, even breaths. he doesn't want to get up and go to the bathroom to take care of his little issue in fear of dean hearing and waking up and questioning him. so, he stays on his side facing the wall, keeping his movements as slow as possible to prevent himself from making too much noise.

he doesn't even bother slipping his cock out of his boxers, just shoves his hand in and starts with tentative strokes, swiping his thumb over his slit on every other pass.

he doesn't even mean to, but his thoughts begin to wander to dean in the bed next to his, what his hand would feel like on his own dick, what kind of sounds he'd make, how his hot mouth would make him feel. he tried to push them down, down into that dark space in the back of his brain, where they could never surface. he thought of pretty girls he'd seen on tv, all smooth skin and long hair, he thought of the women in the skin mags he used to have as a teen, hidden away at the bottom of his duffel, he even thought of jess,, anything to keep his mind away from the sleeping body in the bed adjacent to his own.

sam speeds up his pace, using his thumb to pick up the bead of precum forming on his tip to drag down his length. soon, against his efforts, his mind wandered back to his big brother, what it would be like to have dean on top of him, grinding down, kissing down his neck, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

before he knew it, sam was climbing closer to the edge, having to turn his face into the pillow to muffle his heavy breaths and stop himself from letting out a whine. he began pulling harder and faster on his cock, desperate to reach the edge and release himself.

sam heard himself inhale sharply. only he didn't feel it. and it sounded like it came from somewhere else in the room, not his own mouth. oh. oh god. he ceased his movements and held his breath, then turned his head around to face the rest of the room.

his eyes met another pair, glistening in the dark from the bed opposite. dean is facing him, unmoving but very clearly understands what sam is doing.

"sammy."

"dean. o-oh my god, dean. i-i'm so sorry, i didn't-" sam panics. this can't be happening right now. he pulls his hand out of his boxers as he sits up, his cheeks burning with humiliation and the remnants of lust.

"sammy." dean follows sams movements and sits up as well, the duvet falling down to his waist from where it was previously hiked up over his shoulders, revealing his bare chest.

"sammy, it's okay, man. stop freaking out."

sam can't even meet deans eyes. his own are beginning to glisten over with unshed tears as he twists his fingers in his lap. this turns out to be a mistake, as when sam looks down at deans lap, he notices that he's sporting a hard-on of his own.

sam's eyes widen, and he looks back up at dean's. dean shifts back until he's leaned up against the headboard, sliding out from under the duvet, exposing his boxer-clad thighs. thighs that sam was thinking unholy thoughts about moments before.

"s' okay, sammy. this doesn't have to be weird." dean's hand reaches down his toned belly to his boxers, resting his hand upon the bulge residing there.

"what-" sam's still stunned, things moving too fast for him to comprehend.

"s' okay sammy. there's nothin' wrong. 's just us."

dean's eyes are on sam's the entire time, and when he reaches into his boxers to cup himself, something inside sam snaps into place.

"fuck." sam sharply inhales as his brain catches up with the occurring events. he leans himself back against his own headboard, his head tilted toward dean and his eyes never leaving the older's.

"dean."

's just us, sammy." dean's hand is moving now, sam can see it through the darkness of the room, the faint moonlight from the window illuminating dean's form.

"god, dean." sam's own hand once again reaches back down into his boxers, his cock back to almost full hardness. he gasps, already way too close to the edge.

his eyes meet dean's, and sam whispers, "just us."

dean's pumping his cock faster now, breathing picking up into soft huffs as he gets himself closer to release.

sam isn't going to last much longer, already strung up from his earlier activities, and his senses are heightened with dean right next to him, watching. he swipes his thumb across his head again, and he's a goner.

"fuck, dean, i-" sam whines.

"you gonna come, sammy?" dean's almost there too, just needs a little more to push him over the edge. "you're so close, aren't you, baby? c'mon, sammy, do it for me, huh? come for your big brother, sammy."

dean's words ring through sam's ears and his grip tightens on his dick. sam's body tenses, he see's stars as he spasms and whines through his climax. his load shoots into his boxers and make his hand slippery for his last few strokes.

"oh, dean, oh my-fuck."

sam's release triggers dean's, and he comes with a shout, stringing together words that sound like, "that's it sammy, that's a good boy. fuck, sammy, my good boy." sam is still experiencing aftershocks and dean shoots streaks of come into his own boxers.

the only sound that can be heard in the room is heavy panting from both of the brothers.

"shit, sam. we need to do that more often." dean shoots sam a lopsided grin through the darkness, and sam sends one back, his breath beginning to even out.

"agreed."

the pair sleeps soundly that night, sated and genuinely relaxed for the first time in what feels like forever. in the morning, they don't talk about it, but share a look of understanding as they step outside for breakfast. no words need to be shared between the two.

the following night, dean sends sam one look and he's shoving his jeans down his hips, already at an agreement.

it's never weird and i think sam and dean do this every night.

[flowersintheimpala69]

14 year old sammy being invited by some boys in his class to his first party and more importantly his first highschool party and he’s so excited and giddy cuz he’s never really had friend before cuz they move around sm and other kids are usually put off by the random bruises (from hunts) that adorn his body and his Salvation Army clothes that are too big and his tattered shoes with holes and even tho dean is sorta in the same boat, dean is 18 and handsome and has girls all over them and sam is still awkwardly gangly. Plus the boys who invited him are part of “the cool crowd” so it feels extremely validating for them to even notice him.

anyways, Sam is hella excited and he spends an hour before hand getting ready in the bathroom and picking out his outfit and while dean would normally tease him abt it he dosent cuz he knows this is a big deal for sam and he’s so glad that his baby brother is finally making friends because he knows sammy is actually really smart and fun to be around and it breaks his heart that he never has friends to go out with.

Dean drives him to the house where that party is happening at like 8 pm and pats him on the shoulder and tells him not to drink too much and to use protection and sam yells “Dean!” and blushes deep red but then Dean tells him to have fun and that he’ll come pick him up at midnight and to “go get them tiger” and sam gives him a little smile

deans at home when at 10:00 he gets a call and it’s an unknown number but sometimes dad calls from unknown numbers so he picks up but it’s not his dads voice on the other line.

“Dean?”

It’s unmistakably Sam’s voice, but it sounds strained and shaky. Deans immediately worried and asks if everything’s all right and sam just tells him he need Dean to pick him up. And deans like okay I’ll be right there what’s the address of the house again??

And sam tells him he’s actually not at the house anymore (which worries and confuses the fuck out of dean) and says he’s about a mile away at a pay phone and he says the street corner and apologizes for making Dean drive the extra mile

And deans internally like “wtf??” Cuz sam never apologizes and starts wondering if he’s just rlly drunk. He puts a pin in it and drives to the street sam said and sure enough sitting on the curb is a sammy-looking lump. Dean leaves the engine running but gets out of the car cuz sam is still just sitting there and he starts worrying that he has alcohol poisoning but then before Dean can even reach sam, he’s up and running towards Dean and pressing his face into his chest and hugging him.

And. That’s so weird. Cuz sam is in his angsty teen phase where he dosent want to be as huggy or cuddly with dean cuz that’s “embarrassing” yet here he is pressing himself against Dean so hard it’s like he’s trying to become part of him.

Sam dosent say anything in the car or when they start driving. Dean decides this is definitely not okay and he needs to do smth so he pulls into a gas station and gets himself a raspberry slushie and sam the cola slushie he likes and he gets them hotdogs (with extra onions and mustard for sam just the way he likes it) and he drives to a little deserted backroad and they sit on the hood of the car while eating and looking at the stars

And Dean hopes the food will put sam into a better mood but besides a quiet “thanks” when Dean had handed him the food sam stays silent and it’s so not sam-like. Deans abt to prompt an explanation but sam speaks first.

“Sorry you had to pick me up,”

“It’s okay, I really didn’t mind”

Sam’s quiet for a moment then in a small and shaky voice that makes deans heart break asks “Dean, you like me, right? Like you think I’m.. you think I’m cool right?”

and deans suddenly angry cuz obviously those stupid kids must have said something to sam and but he knows Sam dosent need him yelling rn so he takes a deep breath and pulls sam into his side, sliding a hand against his nape.

“Sammy of course I like you. You’re the smartest, coolest, funniest little brother one could ask for.”

Sam smiles a bit at that and rest his head against deans shoulder, “thanks Dean.”

Dean dosent ask what the those kids must have said to him but after a moment sam starts talking unprompted.

“The uh, guys who invited me, they uh did it like as a joke,” he sniffles, “and I didn’t realize but then they started calling me a girl and saying I was a pussy and someone wanted to uh, check if I had a, um, like if I had a-if I was like a woman down there and they pushed me down and tried to take off my pants and I-I didn’t..” sam trails off with a sniff.

Dean can feel Sam’s wet face against his neck. “Oh sammy, I’m so sorry, they’re assholes don’t pay mind to them—“

“But they’re right! They pushed me down and dad trained me-us-I could’ve totally fought back but-I don’t know I froze like a girl and just let it happen-I am a fucking pussy-“ sam is interrupted by a hiccup and then starts full on sobbing and dean can only pull sam into his lap and let him sob into his chest. Sam spends the next 20 minutes sobbing and babbling into deans collar about how he wishes he wasn’t a fucking freak and wants to be normal and at one point he leans off the side of the car to puke cuz he’s crying so hard and he’s so sorry Dean I didn’t mean to get sick I’m so gross I’m sorry and deans heart breaks.

Dean has to carry sam into the car and then the motel cuz he’s so exhausted from crying. Sam stays home from school the next day. John comes home that night, and dean convinces him to let them leave town the next morning.

They don’t ever talk about it after that.

[bklynsboys]

picture injured!dean and sam is tending to his wounds

The motel bathroom looked like the aftermath of a battlefront with all the piles of discarded bandages and antiseptic wipes. Dean winced as Sam poked at a gash on his shoulder, the harsh light glinting off the needle.

"You're gonna need stitches for this one," Sam declared, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, Doc," Dean muttered, more to himself than Sam. He caught a glimpse of his reflection—a mess of worry lines and exhaustion. "Just hurry up, will ya? I'm whacked and I wanna go to sleep, but I gotta find a decent burger joint."

Sam snorted, unsurprised at how Dean was trying to underestimate his injuries. He finished cleaning the wound and reached for the suture kit. "Alright, alright, Buffy. Just don't blame me when you scare off every waitress with these war wounds."

A hint of a smile crossed Dean's face. He braced himself, but instead of the needle, he felt a gentle touch on his cheek. Sam was leaning in, his lips brushing against the corner of Dean's mouth. It was a fleeting kiss, a silent "thank you" for all the battles they fought, side-by-side.

[whims-of-a-star]

Nothing

Days after Sam’s death and subsequent resurrection, Dean refuses to stop sleeping in the same bed as him. When they both settle into the sheets Dean wraps himself around Sam as if he is once more the little 12 year old brother, tucking Sam’s head under his chin.

Despite Sam’s complaints, he lets Dean maneuver him into being the little spoon, curling long limbs to his chest as he settles himself in his big brother’s arms, ear against chest.

Sam doesn’t remember much in the time between passing out from the pain in his back and waking up in an old shack, doesn’t understand Dean’s sudden desire to be near him, but allows it anyway. And truth be told, he missed his brother’s warmth, tightly wound around him and emanating safety and home. After a certain age, Dean had begun to dislike showing physical affection, or ‘chick-flick’ moments as he calls it, and Sam had been fine with it, wanting to not be treated like a kid anymore.

Still, when Sam is half-asleep in the middle of the night and feels the soft press of lips in his hair, he says nothing. And when he chooses to shift a bit closer to his big brother, listening to the strong ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dumps of his heart, Dean says nothing too.

[fussy-sammy]

Every once in a while, Dean calls Sam while he’s drunk.

Leaves voicemails talking about recent hunts or something Dad said. He leaves one at Christmas time, asking to meet with Sam for the holidays.

Sam always listens to them but he never answers them. He knows Dean wouldn’t want him to.

[pupyr0arz]

a notice: I am pro Palestine. The only moral option is to be pro Palestine. If you are a Zionist, pro Israel, etc etc, just block me and don’t waste my time. I find you disgusting on multiple levels.

—

haii, I’m Maxwell! I write and blabber about weirdos online. My main fandoms are supernatural and call of duty lately but I write and chat about whatever catches my fancy.

I take requests! Ask box is open, and just send me 🎲 to hav me post a random snippet from my wip pile.

I write a lot of darker fiction and triggering topics, if that’s not your thing you can mute tags and or block me. I don’t argue about this kind of stuff. Live & let live, don’t like don’t read and all of that.

you can find me (sporadically) on Twitter (@ Brosimping) and even more sporadically on archiveofourown (@ pupyr0arz) I do actually like chatting with people I just am stricken with the ghosting disease.

also, blanket permission to be inspired by anything I write, take any concepts etc. just show it to me too.

Links to my fics and some drabbles below! #writing has my random stuff in it.

posted:

supernatural: 8 fics, all on ao3.

cod: 0 (will b changing soon), but you can find drabbles in my #snippet tag

Supernatural :

claims unspoken echoing in the night | 4.7k words

Sam POV, second person ‘character study’. Gencest/codependency.

‘Four k practice using second person. Sam has various thoughts about his life and his brother and exactly none of them are healthy.’

cws: incest coded (sibling), unhealthy relationships, trauma, implied references into Noncon (not overt)

i could eat god | 2.3k words

Werewolf!Sam AU. Eventual wincest in later parts.

‘Sam is hungry, Dean wants to fix that. Or, in which Sam is bitten by Madison & Dean has a complex about caretaking. AU from Heart.’

cws: cannibalism, violence

Alphabet Soup | 4.3k words | unfinished

A-Z 100 word Drabble challenge. Multiship.

cws: tags.

The salt in my wounds doesn’t burn any more than it used to | 2.2k words | unfinished

Dean/John Sam/John background/fake, Azazel/John.

‘John is ill. Luckily, he has his wonderful, amazing, loving husband to take care of him.’

cws: incest (not actual, but parent/child), noncon (implied), gore/violence, cannibalism, mental abuse.

and his gaze was heaven sent | 1.5k | NSFW

Sam/Dean John/Sam/Dean (background.)

‘John should do something. He wont.

In which John listens to his sons fuck and jacks off about it’

cws: incest (parent/child (non physical), sibling), consensual underage sex, nonconsensual/unaware voyeurism

Turning Tricks (5+1) | 997 words 

Sam/others, Sam/Dean

‘Five situations Sam has sex for money, and one time something more important is also at stake’

cws: incest (sibling), implied underage sex (16-18 range), age gap, prostitution, self harm via sex.

can my violence conquer yours? | 1,125 words, 1/4 chapters complete Sam/Dean

‘Sam grows up familiar with how his brother tastes. He never quite grows out of the urge. Things escalate.’ cws: cannibalism, incest (sibling)

WIP / Drabble posts on here:

-> WIP 1 (wincest moment / truecrime!sam / werewolf!sam)

Call Of Duty :

ghostcest wip

Mermaid!soapghost

gazreader snippet

[flowersintheimpala69]

Concept: sam having minor claustrophobia post being put in the panic room. He gets antsy whenever in a small room. When Dean and him go out for lunch/dinner he always insists they eat outside even if it’s 30 degrees. Sam has a harder time sitting in the car on road trips, quickly growing fretful and fidgety after a mere hour ride. Dean pretends not to notice how Sam asks him to pull over for “bathroom breaks” or “to stretch their legs” way more than he ever use to. He takes the stairs instead of the elevator even if it means he has to go up 13 flights of stairs. They have to take a plane once to get to a hunt and Sam’s way more stressed than Dean’s ever been riding a plane. When they start living in the bunker he keeps his bedroom door open 24/7 because if he closes it his skin will feel tight and itchy and he won’t be able to sleep.

[flowersintheimpala69]

How lonely it must be for Sam to be the only one left living. he has no one to share the pain of his past with and l no one he can truly confide in. his wife asks questions he can’t answer without mentioning monsters or his brother. She asks why he spaces out for hours of a time, not realizing he’s burning his hand on spilling coffee, and all he can do in response is shrug. She asks why he can’t have sex without the lights dimmed, and why his grunts and breathy moans during sex almost sounds like he’s whispering “de” and he pretends not to hear her. His skin is marred with scars and he spends the 4th of July pressed into the corner, hands over his ears but he swears up and down that he isn’t a veteran. She chalks his aversion of diners up to a dislike of greasy food, but the way he sometimes glances at them as they drive by betrays any notion of disgust. She’ll never know why he spends some days nauseous and shaky despite the fact he lacks any fever or other typical symptoms of illness. His therapist who he sees twice a week asks him about his brother and sam dosent know how to even begin to describe Dean and what they shared. He’s surrounded by people—his wife, his son, his colleagues and friends—yet he’s never felt so alone.

[flowersintheimpala69]

Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester & Winchester Family \\ Apple by charli xcx

[joeldjarinmylove]

samdean drabbles

holding hands (314 words)

sam calling dean mommy (699 words)

first kiss in the bunker (488 words)

[whims-of-a-star]

Suit

It catches Sam’s eyes as they’re walking through the small town. Dean is forced to stop when Sam does, gaze trained on something.

“Sammy? What’s—“ Dean inhales sharply as his eyes trail to where Sam’s focus is.

It’s a white suit, displayed through glass on a male mannequin.

SamLucifer stood there, wearing a white suit and holding a plucked rose in his fingers.

“Since when did you get an interest in clothes? Are you tapping into your feminine side?” Dean asks jokingly, but his tone wavers slightly in nervousness.

“Hello, Dean,” Lucifer greeted with a stolen quirked smile.

Sam gives him a bitch face before replying, “I was just looking.” He pauses, turning back to the suit. “But maybe I could pull it off…”

“Nope! Nope, white isn’t your colour.” Dean hurriedly yanks Sam’s wrist and drags him away.

They walk in silence after that, and Dean can’t help but play Lucifer’s words over and over in his head.

"No matter what you do, no matter what choices you make, what details you alter, we will always end up…here."

“Not ever, asshole.” Dean growls under his breath.

“You really hate white that much, Dean?” Sam asks with an amused smile.

“No, no. It’s just…” Dean trails off and realizes he’s still holding tightly to Sam’s wrist, quickly letting go with a slightly embarrassed flush over his cheeks.

“Just?”

“Just nothing. Are we finding this shifter or what?” he snaps, walking ahead of his brother, who snorts behind him.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Sam looks great in white, but the sight of the Devil being present with the suit on has burned all prospects of Dean ever letting his little brother wear white. Not that Dean will ever tell Sam that.

[whims-of-a-star]

Take Care of Sammy

tw: Non-consensual drug use, restraints, dark Dean Winchester

There is something to be said about the love Dean has for his little brother. About the devotion, the care, the lengths Dean will go to for Sam, to keep him safe.

No matter what.

Even if it meant the clothes off his back, the last portion of food in the ratty motel cupboards, or going to Hell.

Even if it meant resorting to... extreme measures.

"D'n…wha'…" Sam slurs out, tugging fruitlessly at the cuffs around his wrists, keeping him restrained against the bed. "D'n?"

Dean steps closer to the limp form of his brother, reaching a hand out to gently smooth a stray lock of hair on Sam's forehead. Sam on the bed like this, blankets tucked up to his chin and staring up at him with a dazed look in his eyes reminds Dean of a time way back before everything, before Sam left for Stanford, when it was just the two of them in a motel room and Dad was away on a hunt.

Sam had been sick and Dean had been taking care of him, feeding medicine that Sam didn't want.

"It's for your own good, Sammy," Dean cajoled, the spoonful of medication hovering close to Sam's pouting lips. His patience was running thin and concern was almost overflowing from his chest. Sam's fever was only getting worse the longer he didn't take the medication.

"But it tastes so gross!" Sam whined, shaking his head and turning away. Despite Dean's attempts, Sam had refused to take it.

In the end, Dean managed to force it down his throat. And while Sam was miffed and annoyed at him, giving Dean the silent treatment days after he recovered, he eventually conceded that it helped the sickness, forgiving him for the rough treatment.

"D'n?" Sam whimpers again, still out of it as his head lolls this way and that on the cushions stuffed under his head. "Wha' did…whaddid you…" The cuffs jingle and clang against each other as Sam sluggishly attempts to move his wrists.

"It's for your own good, Sammy," Dean says, the fond frown on his face a facsimile of younger days.

When Dean had found the door to the panic room wide open, he panicked. Pun not intended. But he managed to get to where Sammy was staying before Ruby came and grab Sam, applying a heavy sedative that had his little brother drop like a rock in a couple seconds.

He'd brought Sam to another motel far, far away from their original location, far away from wherever Sam was going to get to Lilith. Cuffing his little brother's wrists, attaching each to their respective bed post while making sure to stuff some cloth in between metal and skin for Sam's comfort.

Then, about a half an hour before the original sedative's effects wore off, he poured a healthy dose of rohypnol down Sam's throat.

There's traces of fear and betrayal in Sam's hazel eyes.

Dean ruffles Sam's girly hair, in some form of comfort or reassurance. "You'll be okay, little brother." Determination is clear in his voice, and Sam trembles minutely under his touch. "I'll save you."

There's bottles of demon blood in the cupboards on the room.

The key is not to quit cold turkey. And Dean's not going to leave him alone this time.

Take care of Sammy.

Yes, sir.

[whims-of-a-star]

Grief

Grief never comes slowly, never a trickle of water from a leaking roof.

It comes like a broken dam, a tsunami, a hurricane, and it destroys every foundation you’ve built yourself on.

Sam’s grief usually comes in the form of anger, of revenge, of retribution. Revenge for Jess, for the innocence he’d wanted to keep nestled close to himself, for the normal life he’d wanted and never got.

His grief also comes in the form of guilt, of self-loathing. Hating himself for not being strong enough to save her, for not telling her about the unseen dangers of the world, for being unclean.

Anger and guilt. Retribution and self-loathing. A dangerous cocktail that becomes self-destructive when Dean is dragged down to hell.

He’s at his lowest and stays there for a long time even when Dean miraculously comes back from the dead months later. Even when he tries to return to some semblance of the normalcy from before, he’s changed too much. They’ve changed too much.

(Sometimes it feels like he’s sitting next to a stranger in the Impala, decades older than he looks. Sometimes he feels like he himself is the stranger.)

No longer the ‘Sammy’ Dean loved and protected back then. Now he’s something to be watched. Like he’s dangerous.

And he is. Should be. Dangerous enough to protect his brother, Bobby, everyone he cares about from the real monsters that lurk in the dark. From Lilith, who’d taken away his brother.

Even if that meant getting in fights with Dean. Even if that meant being called a monster, something to hunt.

Even if…

“You're not you anymore. And there’s no going back.”

He saves the voicemail and tucks his phone away, determined to finish his mission through even when a sense of emptiness fills his bones.

(Sam grieves the person he’d been before in Dean’s eyes, the hopeful little brother that could do no wrong. Someone to protect, to love.)

><><><

Dean’s grief comes in the form of emptiness, of an abyss so large and deep almost nothing can fill it. Parts of his soul chipped away. What can heal those wounds is not women, not booze, only…Sam. His brother. His purpose.

From the moment John Winchester had settled Sam into his arms all those years ago, Dean’s little brother had become a part of his existence.

Take care of Sammy.

So when Sam dies at Cold Oak, Dean is empty, grieving. No amount of alcohol swiped from Bobby’s stash can fill the void in his soul. Failure haunts him, blaring in his face, and nothing can heal him because Sam is gone.

Then Sam is resurrected only days later and Dean is once more complete, content despite his sealed future.

Emptiness. Purpose. Perhaps it’s unhealthy, this dependence on his brother, this all-consuming love that drives him to do whatever it takes to keep his brother safe, regardless of the consequences.

Sam is all he can think about in those forty years in hell. Proof of his bond in the shape of a bronze bull, hanging around his neck even when it shouldn’t be possible.

(He’d been wearing it when he was torn apart. Probably buried with it too.)

He thinks of his brother, wondering if he’s happy without him, screams for him when Alastair carves up his insides. He thinks about him decades later when he’s under Alastair’s tutelage, hanging souls on the rack and bloodying his hands. Wondering what Sam would think if he ever knew about the sins piling up under Dean’s name.

When he’s back topside, he doesn’t tell Sam. Claims to have forgotten hell and the atrocities he’d gone through and committed, of his flayed body, of the desperation driving him to torture other souls, of the way the little bronze necklace was the only thing keeping his sanity barely intact. He tries to pretend he’s still the big brother he’d always been before hell.

Then he notices the changes. The way Sam keeps secrets, the way he’s begun to act like he doesn’t need Dean anymore, the way he’s turning into—

A monster.

Just like big brother.

And Dean’s angry, because he’s supposed to protect Sam, save him from becoming what his big brother’s already become and his words come out harshly, words that are meant to hurt because—

He's seeing himself in Sam. And he hates it.

But at the end of the day, Sam is his brother. No matter what his father had said, Dean cannot bring himself to kill his little brother.

The phone against his ear rings. And rings. And rings, until it goes to voicemail. No matter, he’ll leave a message and maybe Sam will…maybe Sam will forgive him. Forgive him and come back.

(Dean grieves the big brother he’d been, the kind of person who saved people, the kind of person his dad would be proud of. Someone to look up to, to admire.)