In the world where everyone had tattoos as a way of knowing their soulmates, Dean knew there was something wrong with him from the time he learned what the writings on his back mean. The upper one just stated 'Dee', in a childish scrawl, like something said with much difficulties but with immense joy.
The first time he saw it was the day Sammy started speaking, and Dean was so proud of him, he thought he'd burst. He wasn't sure, but he thought Sam should've started talking already, and every day he was a bit more scared, but that day showed that his Sammy is perfect, that there was nothing Dean did wrong.
When he went to shower, something on his lower back caught his eye, and when he took a better look at it there was the word, the innocent, three-letter word that just confirmed what Dean was feeling from the moment he first held Sammy: he was his world.
But the lower, lower one was a jumble of words, of 'Dean!' and ' …got him' and it hurt when Dean touched it. He saw Dad from time to time holding his back, even when it was a while since the last hunt, but he refused to think of the implications of that.
He never saw Sam's words, since the tattoos were hidden from others, but he tried not to think of them. He didn't want to know if there was someone else for Sammy, or if Sammy decided to leave even though Dean was his mate – Dean honestly couldn't tell which would make him feel worse so never asked about them.
The first time when he saw Sam falling, Dean's name still on his lips, his old fears about back pain were confirmed – it meant he'd live through the searing pain of losing his Sammy, and he just couldn't allow that. So he went and sold his soul, his half of it, because he didn't have any use for it with the other half missing, and never regretted what he did. Sammy was his world, so how would Dean live on if he was gone? It was all okay, as long as Sam lived.
And then suddenly the Winchesters were important – to heaven, to hell, to everyone. Well, not really important, nobody still gave a damn about them, but they were something valuable to be used. The pressure started building up and one tortured night, while the wind outside was moaning and rattling the cheap motel doors, Sam came to Dean and told him what was on his back. Told him there was love and sacrifice and Sam's name and that until now he was afraid of what would Dean would say, but that he doesn't care anymore, with the end almost upon them.
Sammy told Dean he was gonna fix it all, that it was gonna be okay. Something in Dean shivered on those words, but he couldn't really think about them, not with Sam in his arms, with his dreams finally coming true. But when the morning came, cold, autumn morning, and brought the hell itself with it, when Dean saw his world collapse for the second time (and even the first one was too much), when Sam whispered his encouragement to Dean, Dean knew they must be cursed.
Was it that they would love too much? Was it that they would let everyone else die before they let go of each other? He didn't know, and he couldn't care anymore. For him, the end came with Sam falling, once again, and Dean failing to catch him, once again.
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for soullesshunters, thank you for the prompt!
