A Compilation of Destiel Short Fics

The Story of Sam Winchester

Summary: AU! where the whole thing's a story. Less of the Destiel and more of the tears.

Rating: K

Word Count: 479

Dean smiled through tears, looking at his little brother lying beside them.

"I don't think we did too bad, Sammy. I mean, we did save the world, didn't we?"

Sam laughed, a forced sound that quickly turned into a cough. With tears on his face to match his brother's, he said one word. One word that had been with him throughout his life, and reminded them both of other days, of happier days when all they owed the world was to live a full life.

"Jerk."

Sam's head lolled to the side, all life gone. The tears on Dean's face mixed with his blood, pooling beneath him. Dean choked back a sob but replied.

"Bitch."

Dean closed the laptop, tears running down his face. He had finished it, finally, what he had been working on for so long. A way to make it seem like they were heroes, like what had happened was for something. To give him a future-

No. he couldn't think about that.

"Dean?" He turned around at Clarence's voice. "Dean, it's four in the morning-" he cut off when he saw the laptop. "Oh."

"Clarence, I finished it." Clarence Allen Smith, Dean's fiancée, sat down beside him.

"Can I read it?" he asked. Dean nodded.

It took a few minutes, but Clarence finished reading it. He smiled, sadly, watching Dean make coffee while the tears dripped down his face. Suddenly Dean stopped. "Give me that," he said briskly, snatching the laptop back. He typed a few lines, then handed it back. "What do you think?"

Clarence looked back at it and read the last and most important bit that Dean had almost forgotten, caught up in the story as he was.

Author's note:

This book, and furthermore series, is in honor of my brother, Sam Winchester. He died in a fire in his dorm, along with his girlfriend Jessica.

Samuel Winchester was born May 2, 1982. His mother died when he was 6 months old. His father was abusive. He grew up on the road, never making friends.

He escaped from a vicious cycle, and went to college. This, of course, was where his story ends.

My brother was a hero. He saved 6 people before he was trapped. Their names were Ash, Jo, Charlie, Kevin, Ellen, and Bobby.

But maybe it was better this way. Maybe death was better than living broken and bruised.

He deserved better than what he got. A dead mother, an abusive father, and me.

We survived as best we could. I protected him from our father. That's what family's for. But I couldn't protect him from the fire.

So I wrote this. Maybe, when I die, if I reach heaven, he'll be there, and maybe, just maybe...he'll forgive me. Forgive me for not saving him.

There are no words.

I'm so, so, SO sorry.

Rest in peace, little brother.