"hey, dean?"
"yeah sammy?"
"would you still love me if i was a worm?"
the car is quiet as dean's eyebrows furrow, incredulity written all over his face. he wants to turn and look at sam, really look at him, because what the fuck kinda question was that?
but he keeps his eyes trained on the road, because there's no way in hell he'd be able to look at sam and not laugh his ass off after somethin' like that. shit, he'd probably crash the car if that happened.
so yeah. no lookin' at sammy. not right now, at least.
"c'mon de, just answer the question! would you still love me if i was a worm, yes or no?"
"sammy, what type of ass backwards question even is that? what, are you afraid of becomin' a bug or somethin'?"
sammy sighs and turns away, the rustle of his clothes followed by the loud crunch of dead leaves.
...what?
dean finally pries his eyes away from the road, only to be met with the sight of dead trees all around him. he tries to hit the breaks, but then realizes that he's not even in the impala anymore. his legs fuckin' ache, like he's been walkin' for hours, but he's more concerned about finding his brother.
"sam? sammy?! where the hell didja go?!"
he's frantic, eyes wide and darting from tree to tree, waiting to see even a hint of soft brown hair, a peek of long legs waiting just around the corner.
"would you still love me if i was a worm?"
it comes from directly behind dean, and he whirls around, only to have his face slam into a gravestone. his nose hurts now too, blood trickling out of both nostrils after having slammed into the damn thing with a sickening crunch.
a quick glance down forces him to a stop, tears welling up in his eyes that have nothing to do with the pain tearing through his face.
'Samuel William 'Sam' Winchester'
'May 2, 1983 — 20XX'
tears start pouring down his face, an anguished sob leaving dean as he drops to his knees. he refuses to believe that sammy, his sammy, his precious baby brother that he's spent countless taking care of, is dead.
and yet, he claws at the headstone, then the dirt, fighting to see the younger winchester a final time.
"sammy," he sobs out, chest heaving as he forces his way through dry, tightly packed earth with nothing but his bare hands. "sammy, baby, please, you can't leave me, you can't—"
his vision's all blurry with tears, but he doesn't miss the first sliver of greyed-out skin, nor the second and third. he claws at the earth like a madman until all of sam is uncovered. whoever buried him is a fuckin' asshole; they didn't give his baby a casket, just tossed him into the pit they'd dug, naked as the day he was born.
dean barely has time to jerk his head away before he's vomiting, the endless rush of bile bringing with it a sense of dread. once the flow's stopped, he pries open his eyes.
he and sam are face to face, half-rotted flesh ghosting over healthy, lively skin. both of sam's eyes are missing, replaced with pools of worms and beetles that have burrowed so deep into sam that there's no way of getting them out without hurting sammy too.
a skeletal hand grips the back of dean's head, stopping him from jerking away like he wants to. if anything, it's pulling him closer, forcing exposed teeth to press against chapped lips, the bugs writhing in sam's eye sockets caressing dean's eyes and cheeks.
"would you still love me if i was a worm?"
the words echo in his brain while dean begs and pleads for his little brother to come back to him, but all he gets for his efforts is a sharp tug on his hair that sends him tumbling inside of sam, the weight of his body crushing rotten flesh and hollowed out bones with a sickening squelch that leaves him retching all over again, all over his beautiful sammy.
the stench of death and decay nearly fizzes out his brains, and as he's swallowed whole by rancid flesh and hungry bugs, all he can think is that he's glad he got to follow sam, in the end.
───── ⋆⋅♱⋅⋆ ─────
dean bolts upright with a gasp, eyes stinging with sweat and tears. he feels like he dreamt somethin' important, but each frantic beat of his heart's enough to drown out any thoughts of his nightmare. there's a groan from across the room, a soft click, and then light floods the cramped space, drawing his gaze towards it.
"dean? what the hell man, it's like... early as hell. you okay over there?"
for a good while, there's no response; just the sound of the two of them breathing. it's almost enough to lull sam back into the land of dreams, but something tells him to stay awake just a little longer.
for dean.
eventually he answers, a hoarse "yeah, 'm good," and then flops back down. sam, still watching his older brother like a hawk, can see the glassy quality of dean's eyes, and it makes his heart ache something fierce.
before he can change his mind, he crawls out of his bed and into dean's, plopping his face right on top of sweat-damp skin and breathing in his brother's scent. strong arms wrap around him as soon as he's settled, keeping him so close that it's a little hard to breathe.
he doesn't mind, though. he can tell that dean needs this, needs him, so he'll give him what he needs. if john wakes up and finds them tangled together, he'll definitely give 'em hell, but they'll deal with it when it happens.
"better?"
"yeah. thanks, sammy."
"anytime, de."
wrapped up in dean's arms, he's already starting to drift back to sleep. just before darkness takes over, he feels a wet, shaky kiss to his forehead.
"i love you."
i love you too, de.
