525, 600 minutes

525, 600 minutes

Title: 525, 600 minutes (Oneshot)

Author: snfan3

Beta: JDSampson

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean / Gen

Warnings: Major Kleenex moments. Canon deathfic of Dean.

Song: Title and words from Seasons of Love from the musical Rent.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. That was it. That was an entire year worth of minutes and it was more than he had left now. So much more.

Dean sighed as he rolled onto his back and stared at the bunk above him. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was stuck here with only days left, now he had to contend with the fact that a song from a freaking musical was stuck in his head. Life totally sucked.

He closed his eyes and silently let the words from Metallica run through his head in an attempt to drown out the song which had bee plaguing him ever since his new cell mate moved in last week singing it. The kid was young, only eighteen and came with a fresh face and floppy hair so painfully similar to Sam that it had hurt when he'd first seen him. Just another slap in the face from fate; another way to rub salt in the wound caused by the fact that he'd never be able to touch Sam again.

He still couldn't wrap his head around the idea that his last minutes with Sam would be shared through the dirty plastic screen of the visitor's room. That he'd never clap his baby brother on the back again or feel the brush of silky curls against his hand and cheek as he hugged Sam and held him firmly to comfort him.

In cups of coffee In inches, in miles
In laughter in strife

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He snorted quietly to himself because honestly, when had things ever gone as planned for the Winchesters? He should have known better… but he'd been so sure that he would make the year count, that somehow it would be okay. He was going to make sure he spent time with Sammy just bonding as brothers and maybe even visit the Grand Canyon for sunrise so that Sam could have one real family holiday to remember instead of a year of literally fighting against hell. And he would have made sure that Bobby and maybe even Ellen would be there at the end so that Sam had someone to turn to. There was so much he'd planned to do.

525, 600 journeys to plan.

"Oh god," Dean murmured as he sucked in a shaky breath. How the hell was he going to be able to say goodbye to Sam like this?

oooOOOooo

Sam sniffed and wiped his sleeve across his nose. He knew it was disgusting but right now he was out of Kleenex and he really didn't care. He'd just spent the night curled in the back seat of the Impala under his big brother's leather jacket, wrapped up in two of the things Dean had loved most in this life.

"Loves," he corrected himself "He's not gone yet." With those words another sob broke through his quivering lips… he wouldn't be able to say that for much longer. Dean would die some time tomorrow and Sam wouldn't even be there to comfort him. Right now the closest he could get to Dean was the faded sent of fried food over leather. It wasn't nearly good enough.

oooOOOooo

His last visit with Sam was so much more painful than Dean had expected. The sorrow and anguish that rolled off Sammy was the final straw in bringing down his defences. The silent tears slipping from Sam had grated against his soul until he'd lost the battle he'd been fighting so hard and had broken down in a mess of tears and pleas to be able to say goodbye to his brother properly.

Sometime amongst the tears and promises made, Sam had asked him if there was anything he could do; anything he could get Dean on his last day.

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights.

He'd let out a wobbly smile and admitted that all he wanted was to watch his last sunrise in peace; with a bottle of Jack in his hand and Sam by his side, just the way they'd spent the morning of his 21st birthday before dad had given him a proud smile and handed over the keys to the Impala.

So now; as a guard called him quietly from his cell at 5:00am, Dean started to build his mental image of that happier time, convinced that the guard was in fact possessed and was leading him to a place where he could have to some fun with his death. It didn't matter now anyway so he went quietly and with all the dignity he could muster.

As he was taken to the exercise yard he wondered briefly if perhaps the demon was going to make him die a human death by having the guards shoot him for trying to escape, but all thoughts save one fled his mind as he stepped into the yard and the guard wordlessly removed the cuffs from around his wrists. Sammy.

There was Sam only a hundred feet away, looking sad yet relieved as their eyes locked on each other. Dean stumbled forward in disbelief, Sammy's name just a breath on his lips.