Ok, here it is, my first Supernatural fanfic!!! Not the first one I've started(the others should be posted soon), but the only one I've finished so far. This is just a oneshot, an idea that came to me while I was walking dogs in the piss pouring rain at work the other day.

This is set right near the end of Season 3, between Time Is On My Side and the finale. It's pretty much just some pointless brotherly-ness with a side dish of angst, lol.

As a note…I'm a new Supernatural fan who's watched the entire series in the span of about a month. I love it more than anything ever pretty much, and I think it's the most moving story ever told. The relationship between Sam and Dean in particular is just absolute fucking magic. So…I'm very excited AND nervous about trying my hand at writing it…so here goes. : )

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Dean popped open his beer with one hand, settled down in the truck bed to lean back against the cab. He was deep in the maze of Bobby's junkyard, hunkered down in the back of a '79 Ford that had definitely seen better days. It was just past one in the morning, a little over an hour into h is 9th last day on earth. 9 days to go, 9 days to find an answer he knew they wouldn't find. And was fucking terrified.

He'd heard the hounds for the first time two nights before, howling and snarling from off in the distance. He hadn't told Sam, but he was afraid he'd figured it out anyway. Still, actually hearing Dean say it would have been confirmation he didn't want to give. Even now, it was still all about Sam. He didn't have long left, but he'd spend his last few days protecting his baby brother however he could, just like always. Even staring down the barrel of this thing, he wasn't sorry he'd made the deal, and he knew he never would be. No matter what happened to him in hell, Sammy's life was more than worth it.

Clouds had been rolling in for awhile before he felt the first raindrop on his hand but he didn't flinch. The rain started steady but soft, the sound of water on metal filling the yard within seconds. Dean shifted sideways, changed his grip on his beer to cover the mouth with his thumb. The rain was cold, already soaking across his shoulders and through his jeans but he didn't care. Like Christmas and cheeseburgers and Kerry Livgren's guitar solos, this was one more thing he was giving up, something he'd never have again.

"Dean?"

He smiled at the sound of Sam's voice, chuckling internally. He had known he wouldn't get more than 10 minutes alone before Sam found him. "Hey, Sammy."

"You can't just run off like that, man, I…" he trailed off, the rest of the sentence plain without being put into words. Every second they were apart these days scared Sam. Dean had considered for awhile going away to let the hellhounds take him, sparing Sam the pain of having to see him chewed up like that. He'd killed that plan pretty quick though when he saw what a wreck Sam had been after just a couple days apart. He wanted nothing more than to stay with Sam until the very end, so it hadn't been hard to convince himself Sam needed him to stay.

"Just wanted to sit outside for awhile, Sam. I'm not goin' anywhere." Yet.

"…You do realize it's about to start really pouring, right? C'mon, let's go inside, Bobby's found another stack of books to go through."

Dean resisted the urge to sigh. Research comforted Sam, he knew that, and he could understand it. But at this point, he was damn tired of seeing pictures of the things that were gonna take him. He'd made his choice and he was prepared for the consequences; he just wanted to spend his last few days with his brother. If they found a way he'd more than welcome it but he couldn't let himself expect it. He couldn't hope.

He grinned at Sam, reached to his side and pulled up the bottle there. "Here. Brought you a beer out."

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Seriously? We're just gonna-"

"Got a problem with a little rain, bitch?"

Sam laughed harder, real laughter. Dean let his own smile widen in response, relieved. As long as he could still make Sammy laugh, they were doin' ok. Sam climbed easily up into the pickup, sliding in to sit at his brother's side, shoulders touching. He took the beer with a nod of thanks, his eyes still sparkling with amusement.

"Jerk."

"You're welcome."

The rain picked up then, moving from steady to drenching. Dean took a long drink, draining his bottle. "You know what this reminds me of? That hunt in the Keys, when I was 18, that shaman alligator guy."

"You mean the one where you got us lost in the Everglades and dad was pretty close to beating the shit out of you when we got back?"

"Yeah, yeah that's it." It had been years but he could still feel the muggy heat, hear the sounds of the swamp coming to life around them as he and Sam knelt in an airboat, their guns loaded with full clips of silver rounds. They had been supposed to circle around, meet John in the middle but it hadn't exactly happened that way. They'd taken a wrong turn in the dark somehow, and even though the hunt had been a success(they had taken him together, two bullets from Sam's gun and one from Dean's. It had been their first kill as a team, without their father.), John had nearly had Dean's head for letting himself get turned around, putting all their lives in danger. Of course, the speech had mostly centered around 'You have to take better care of your brother, boy.', but that was expected.

Find their way out of that 'wrong turn', though, they'd ended up spending the night out on the water alone, in a torrential downpour no less. At the time it hadn't exactly been fun, but like so many of their stories, it had certainly been an experience.

"We nailed him pretty good, didn't we?"

"Hell yes! That one shot you got, damn near straight in the heart on the first try and you only 14…" Dean shook his head appreciatively, remembering. "I was so proud of you."

He could feel Sam tense beside him and he let out a sharp breath, eyes shutting. It had been the truth, but he should've known he couldn't say anything like that now, not without bringing out a whole host of emotions in both of them. He kept it to himself, most of the time, but Sam…

"Hey, Dean, I-"

"Stop." It hurt to stop him, really it did, especially when he had tried so many times to start this conversation. Even so, it hurt a hell of a lot less than it would to let him talk. He had kept a strong front up for Sam's sake, and though it had slipped on occasion it was mostly intact. If he wanted to keep it that way, he couldn't let Sam start trying to tell him goodbye. He turned his head just enough to see Sam out of the corner of his eye, and for a minute he lost everything he'd been about to say. Even through the rain, he could see the tears welled up in his brother's eyes, the way he tried to hide them with his eyes half shut. Dean took a breath, tried to get it out as kindly as he could while still holding his ground. "Come on, Sammy. Do you really think there's anything you need to tell me that I don't already know? Huh? Look at me." Their eyes met, and for a minute Dean wasn't sure if this was already pushing himself too far. "Sam, I know. Ok? I know." He broke the connection first, knowing if he looked him the eyes any longer any composure he had left would be shot to hell. "So, unless there's something you wanna tell me that I don't know…" he forced some humor into the words, trying his best to dig out of the conversation before Sam tried to take it any farther.

"Something you don't know, huh?" Sam laughed once, sharp. "I stole a cigarette from you, when you went through that smoking phase, right after you started back when I was 12." His voice was still thick, but God help him, he was trying.

Dean elbowed him, scoffing. "Oh please. You gotta try harder than that. You think I didn't know about that?" Dean let his eyes roll back, thinking. "Let's see…we were in…God, I don't know. Some cheap ass motel some place out west, and you got up in the middle of the night and took one outta my jacket pocket, went outside the door and nearly hacked up a lung." He laughed at the memory, shaking his head. "Hell, gave you points for trying though."

"You…" Sam's eyes were wide now, incredulous. Distracted, for awhile. "If you knew, why didn't you stop me?"

"Shit, Sammy, if you were gonna be takin' 'em from me anyway, I decided it didn't matter. Started offering to share with you after that." He grinned, turned back to his brother. "I like this game, though, what else ya got?"

"Apparently nothing, smartass."

"Well, I got something." This, he'd been holding onto for a long time. The odds were pretty good it'd get him crying, wounded Sam back in a heartbeat, but as counterproductive as that might be he felt like getting it off his chest. "You know how I told you dad came by to see you sometimes at Stanford? Well ah…it was true, but the part I didn't tell you…" he swallowed, his throat tight. "He didn't come half as often as I did." He could feel Sam's eyes on him but he didn't look up, not yet. "Hell, I came whenever I could, and always at the end of every job I did on my own. I was there when you turned 21." He swallowed hard again, the weight on his chest almost too great to speak around. "I waited till you let a couple of your buddies drag you into a bar and I followed, and I waited and found this guy who knew you just enough to have dropped by to join in on the party, and I paid him off to buy you a drink." God, this was too much, farther into the story than he'd meant to go. He could feel his eyes burning and he looked out over the junkyard, turned his head up just enough to let the rain wash away anything he didn't want Sam to see.

"That was you." His voice was hoarse, pained, and Dean almost regretted telling him. "I…I thought it was a little weird but I…oh my God."

"See? Something you didn't know. I'm better at keepin' secrets than you are." He said it as light as he could but somehow it still came out strained.

"Dean…" He almost flinched, felt his heart tearing open. No one could do the kicked puppy voice better than Sam. "Why didn't you tell me you were there? Do you…do you have any idea how bad I wanted to see you?"

Dean bit back about a thousand bitter words. Now wasn't the time for another argument about who abandoned who. "Considering the last time I had called you'd told me to leave you alone, no, I didn't." Still a little mean, maybe, but it was better than anything else that had sprung to mind.

"Yeah, well, I was being a dick back then." There was too much self hatred there, and even if the blame was on his shoulders, Dean couldn't let him keep carrying it.

"Happens to the best of us." He turned back to Sam, met his eyes again. "You were doing your own thing. Nothing wrong with that." He held up a hand, silencing the reply he knew was coming. "I don't blame you for leaving, Sam. Hell, I think you needed it. I'm just glad you came back."

"Me too. I should've come back sooner, I should've-"

"Doesn't matter. Worked out alright, in the end. And hell," Dean grinned, elbowed him again. "You have the distinction of being the only Winchester to go to college. That's something."

"Yeah." Sam reached over Dean for the leather jacket that hung over the edge of the truck, fished around in the pockets till he found Dean's flask and pulled it out, taking a strong swig of the liquor. And another.

"Easy there, buddy." Dean held his hand out and Sam handed it over without a word, though his hand was out again to take it back before Dean had even finished taking his own drink. He handed it over a little reluctantly, fingers brushing Sam's as he did. "Sammy…you'll be ok, you know. You're gonna make it through this."

The rain streaked through his hair and across his face, hiding any tears. "Thought you said you didn't want to talk about it." He took another drink, slid the cap back on and sat it down to rest against Dean's leg.

"I didn't. I still don't. But if you-"

"Then let's not talk about it." The hard edge in his voice, the way he'd taken those drinks without so much as a seconds hesitation…all of it was enough to almost make him push it. Maybe he was wrong, maybe they actually did need to talk about this.

"Dammit, boys!"

They both jumped at the sound of Bobby's voice, hands falling to their weapons out of habit and relaxing almost instantly.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean grinned, patted the metal beside him. "Come on up, we were just having a drink."

The look Bobby was giving them then got a laugh even from Sam, and by the time the two of them were grinning like idiots, Bobby shook his head. "Idjits. Don't even have the sense to come in out of the rain. Kids these days…" But even through his tirade, he was smiling.

"Come on, Bobby. Just a little water." To anyone else, Sam would have sounded fine. Dean shouldn't have been surprised, really. They'd both learned how to hide emotions over the years, and though Sam wasn't exactly the master at it, he could manage.

"Uh-huh. Well I hope you feel that way later, cause there's no way you boys are sleeping on my bed like that."

"Oh don't worry, I sleep naked."

"Not with me you don't!"

"Prude."

"Asshole."

"Wuss."

"Will you two give it a rest?" They laughed together at his exasperation. "I swear, I don't know how your daddy ever managed to not just shoot the both of you."

"We were useful."

"Right." He shook his head again, ran a hand over what was left of his hair. "Well, thanks to you two I'm soaked, but I'm smart enough to get back inside. When you feel like joining me, I'll be in the library reading up."

Dean waited until he was gone before nudging Sam, questioning. "Ready to go?"

Sam shrugged, gave him a half smile. "Not really."

"Good. Me either."

The rain picked up then, and Sam reached for the flask. In the distance, a hound howled and Dean checked his watch. 1:52 AM. 8 days 22 hours 8 minutes. When Sam was done, he drank the rest.

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I'm more nervous about posting this than I have been anything in a loooong time, I think because this story means so much to me now…these two are definitely my favorite characters ever, so I really really really hope I did them justice.

Feedback on this is absolute love…imagine me sending you something awesome in return…like apple pie…and the Winchester boys. ^^