Love is expressed by caring - Dean realized this during his childhood. It hides in little things: in hot chicken soup with a few bay leaves and black pepper, in quiet lullabies before softly saying goodnight, in a mug of chamomile tea with a slice of cherry pie, in forehead kisses and warm hugs on cold rainy evenings.
When he was very young Dean often felt love from his mother: from the way she looked at him, how melodiously she pulled the letter "e" in his name when she called him to her, in her laugh and smile, in the gentle stroking on his head. Love was shown in her every action, it was everywhere, in every corner of their little house in Lebanon, where it was always cozy and warm, despite the weather outside the window. Even if a hurricane raged on the street or loud peals of lightning made the sky shine with silver tints. Dean was not afraid, because he always knew that his mother would only need to run her hand through his blond hair and gently ruffle it in order to finally give him a lingering sense of calmness.
It was heaven on earth, an idyll, a carefree childhood that seemed to have no end. This had to go on every day, week, month, hundreds, and hundreds of times over the course of several years. Dean was supposed to have the life of a happy and self-confident boy, a fan of cartoons and board games.
But fate did not give him a choice, made sure it happened the other way. It, like a guillotine, cut it all off, got rid of everything that made him a child, and forced him to grow up all too soon.
That very night, when their warm, cozy home instantly turned into scorching hot and black smoke rushed to fill their lungs, Dean realized that nothing would ever be the same. Mom was gone, Dad was broken and introduced cheap whiskey into his diet, constantly hitting him in the head and making him aggressive. But Sammy was the worst. Sammy never reached the age of tasting his mother's pie or playing with a soccer ball in the backyard, he didn't even have a chance to know what it was like to be happy. If only he could feel it for a short while, if only for a couple of seconds.
Dean took on a burden that his father could not bear - Dean was an older brother, but he had to become both a father and a mother for Sam when he was only four years old. Their childhood was gone and with it the feeling of being loved, of deserving love.
Time passed, he got used to it, got used to a slight pulling pain with each breath, got used to crying at night while everyone was asleep, got used to being who life wanted him to be. Many years have passed and Dean got a new home with a cozy atmosphere, he got warm slippers and a gray cotton robe, which he absolutely adored, and Sam is now a muscle giant who makes him coffee in the morning. Many things have happened, but that emptiness that haunts him wherever he goes, so ironically filling his soul, remained right there and Dean never spoke about it, didn't let anyone understand and feel it too.
He knew that there would never be such a person to whom he could entrust it, who could save him from it, completely free him. He knew there would never be anybody who would need him the way he is. Dean was completely sure of it.
At least up until recently.
It was winter, only three weeks before Christmas. While ordinary people began to slowly stock up on Christmas tree decorations and went on trips to visit their relatives, the Winchester brothers investigated another case.
People, regardless of age and gender, even from the most healthy state, picked up a strange disease and entered a state of a severe coma all in one day. Every time Sam and Dean got close to a clue, everything turned upside down and they had to start over. The number of patients only increased, so they decided to split up. Sam stayed in the motel and sat 24/7 in a dusty room with a laptop and books, taking only coffee breaks and around two hours of sleep while Dean was in the hospital, interrogating and guarding patients in case whoever had done this to them decided to collect the resulting "crop". More and more patients were arriving, new information was constantly coming in, so Dean simply could not afford to sleep for even a couple of minutes. People's lives were at stake, sleep could wait.
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The Last Spark
Fanfiction"Many things have happened, but that emptiness that haunts him wherever he goes, so ironically filling his soul, remained right there and Dean never spoke about it, didn't let anyone understand and feel it too. He knew that there would never be such...
