Lyrics
I'll Be Yours
Wind battered at the thin window glass and rushed through the trees. Rain poured from the gutters in a steady stream to spatter on the dirt. Sammy whimpered at the low rumble of thunder, and Dean pulled him close under ratty covers, tucked his round little brother safely into his arms. Dean’s heart beat rabbit-fast, wondering how long the storm would last, when their father would finally come back home, how long he would have to be strong for them both. He buried his nose in Sammy’s hair, breathing in the sweet, comforting baby-scent. Sammy smelled like home.
---
“Dean, how come Dad has to go away all the time?” Sam asked, swinging his feet under the table while he did his homework. His feet still didn’t quite touch the ground when he sat, his toes just barely skimming the worn carpet if he tried.
Dean heaved a sigh. “You know why, Sammy. He’s working. He has a very important job to do; he’s helping people.” He turned the volume up on the motel TV.
Sam glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and put the end of his pencil between his lips. “Other kids say their mom stays home with them if their dad has to leave,” he mumbled. “Or they get a babysitter. How come we don’t have a mom or a babysitter?”
“Sammy…” Dean pushed off the bed and padded over to his brother’s chair, rested his chin on top of Sam’s head and draped his arms over his shoulders. “You don’t need a mom or a babysitter. You have me, right?” He gave him a semi-hug from behind and kissed the top of his head. “I take care of you. I’m better than a mom.”
A grin broke out on Sam’s face, little dimples appearing in his round cheeks as he craned his neck around to look at Dean. “Yeah, you are better than a mom! You’re my Dean!” And Dean felt his heart swell until tears prickled at his eyes.
---
Another move, another new school, and Sam was damn near inconsolable. He moped during the day and cried at night, thin shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. He cried for teachers who praised his hardworking nature and intellect, he cried for friends barely made and already lost, he cried of guilt for the group book report he had to abandon halfway through. Dad thought he was old enough now that he should understand what needs to be done, and to get over it (“You’re almost eleven now, Sam, for God’s sakes”), but when he left, Dean would always slip out of his bed and climb into Sam’s. He would gather his little brother up in his arms like when he was a toddler afraid of storms and murmur sweet nonsense and shushing sounds in his ear, rub his back and kiss his forehead.
Dean remembered, a little, back when their mother was alive. He remembered his dad kissing his forehead when he was upset that Ozzy the goldfish he won at the fair died, and rubbing his back while he cried. Maybe Dad couldn’t do that anymore, but Dean could. Dean could be that, for Sammy.
---
“No, we can’t! Dad, it’s not fair!” Sam gaped at his father, who stood near the doorway with arms crossed and a forbidding expression. “Dad, please! I just finally asked Sydney to the movies on Friday and she said yes!”
John’s eyes softened a bit in sympathy, but he was no less resolute. “I’m sorry Sammy, but we have to leave first thing in the morning. There’s a hunt that needs to be dealt with, a bad one, and it’s two states over. They asked for my help, I have to go as soon as possible. You know how it is.”
Sam’s lips tightened and his eyes spit fire. “It’s Sam,” he gritted.
John nodded solemnly. “All right, Sam. You boys get packed, I’ll be back in a few hours.” And he shut the door behind him. Almost immediately, Sam crumpled. He staggered to the bed and dropped his elbows to his knees, head in his hands. Dean finally looked up from where he was sitting in the chair across the room, picking at his nails with his pocketknife, and put it down.
He sat next to Sam on the bed, just barely brushing their knees together. “Sam,” he said softly.
“Leave me alone,” came the muffled, wet voice from between Sam’s hands.
Dean gently took one of Sam’s hands from his face and held it in his own. “Sammy. We would have had to leave eventually; it’s only a matter of time.” He traced the lines in Sam’s palm with his index finger, warm, wet from tears.
A hiccupped sob; then, surprisingly steady, Sam said, “I really liked her. She was pretty, and smart, and nice. And she would have been my first kiss. Pretty much everybody has had their first kiss by now, except me, because our STUPID family moves around too damn much!” He smacked both hands down on his thighs and dried them on his jeans. Dean tried not to show his disappointment at the loss.
“Is that it, Sammy? This is all about you having your first kiss?” Dean gazed across the room, unseeing, his muscles tense and nerves humming. He licked at his lips, mouth suddenly dry. “You wanted your first kiss, from some girl you knew you were going to have to leave sooner or later?”
“Is that so wrong?” Sam blurted, finally turning to look at Dean for the first time, eyes wide and wet. “Is it so wrong to want something that’s maybe, sort of, KINDA normal?”
Dean turned back, leaning in imperceptibly, locking eyes with Sam. “You hardly knew her. You’ll never see her again. If you want your first kiss, then… then…” He licked his lips again. Flicked his eyes down to Sam’s lips, the corners still turned in a frown. Dean’s hands were trembling where he was gripping his knees tightly, sweating a little, clammy.
Sam licked his lips too in reflex. “Then… what?” He asked in a near-whisper, then made a muffled “Oomph!” of surprise as Dean’s mouth crashed into his. It was clumsy, inexpert and he pulled away quickly, eyes wide and chest heaving.
It was like all the air was sucked out of the room. They stared at each other, bodies tense, and Dean touched his fingers to his own lips softly as if in disbelief. “I’m,” he croaked, “Sam, I’m sorry, I…”
Sam’s eyes drifted shut, he tilted his head and kissed Dean back, and it was like everything Dean had ever dreamed it would be. Soft, and warm, and right.
Dean was the one who had always been there for Sam. Who would always be there for Sam. His mother, his father, his lover. His.