Over the years, Sam Winchester had some really close calls with life and death. His closest call, however, was when he was seven years old.

He was following his older brother, Dean, the way younger brothers do when they were not invited to tag along to begin with.

He kept to the bushes and brush as Dean drew up to a clearing with a rocky drop off into a deep pond below. Dean pulled off his shirt, raced off the rocky drop, flew threw the air and landed smoothly in the water below. Sam watched Dean swim for a while, before he decided that he wanted to swim too.

He knew Dean wouldn't stay mad at him for following once they were laughing and splashing each other. He pulled off his own shirt, ran off the rocky ledge as Dean had and jumped. However he didn't jump out far enough and Dean turned at the sudden noise and watched as Sam's body hit the water with a harsh splash, and his head knocked into a rock.

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There were strange beeping noises that filtered in through the darkness and when Sam slowly opened his eyes, he was in a strange room full of shadows and beeping machines, and he was alone. He licked his lips, afraid to cry out, because he wasn't sure who would come for him.

He nearly jumped when he heard the soft voice of a woman. "Hello, Sammy. You had a very big fall a couple of days ago. Luckily your brother managed to get you breathing and was quick to get help for you. But you're a charmed child."

Sam's eyes widened a bit as he looked at the woman, she was beautiful, her skin and hair glowed with a golden light, and her eyes were the bluest he'd ever seen. Her heart shaped lips pulled into a smile and she reached down, her fingers tingling against his forehead as she pushed his hair back from his face.

"Where's Dean? Where's my daddy?" he asked, his voice scratchy.

"They were sent home because visiting hours are over," she replied.

"Are you a nurse? You don't look like a nurse."

She chuckled, and it sounded like a melody. "No, Sammy. I'm not a nurse. My name is Gabrielle, and I was sent to retrieve you when you fell into the water. I am the Guardian of water, but it seems that I nearly took you too soon. You have a lot of living left to do. So I owe you a wish. You have your life, and I am in your debt until you ask me for something, and then we will be even."

Sam chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about what he wanted. One wish. That was something that he couldn't waste. He was young, but he'd learned the value of things in his short life, and a wish was valuable, very valuable. He looked up at her with wide eyes and asked, "Can it be for anything in the whole wide world?"

"Anything, but you don't have to make this wish right away, if you don't want to," she replied.

He took in a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. I think I'm ready for my wish."

She shook her head and smiled at the little boy, figuring that he would waste his wish on something frivolous, a puppy, or a toy. He was only a child after all, but then his eyes lit up, and she knew without a doubt that this boy was different, and he had something on his mind.

"I was out there following my brother Dean. He left me, and it scared me, because he's always there, and I don't like it when he leaves me. Daddy leaves enough without Dean going away too."

She nodded to encourage him to go on. "Okay, Sam, so what do you want to wish for?"

"I wish that Dean could never leave me," he replied with a conviction that no seven-year-old should possess.

She looked down at the child in surprise and then asked, "Well, what if he did? What would happen to him?"

"He would be as hurt and scared as me. He can never leave me behind. He's my Dean," Sam said, his little seven-year-old voice firm.

She nodded and gave him a sad smile. "Very well, Samuel Winchester. Dean is yours, no matter what. He will never be able to leave you. This is a very heavy thing you ask for, but it is your wish," she said softly and bent down, her lips brushing over his forehead, and again he felt a spark and tingle at the contact, and when she pulled back she continued, "Consider our bargain made and your wish granted."

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Sam sighed as he shifted onto his back. Sunlight drifted in through the dirty windows of the spare room in Bobby's house. He heard the sound of metal against metal and knew that Dean was already awake and working on the Impala. He lifted a hand and ran it through his long, messy hair, and sat up in bed.

It wasn't long before he was dressed and approaching Dean and the Impala with a couple of glasses of sweet tea. Dean was on a creeper on his back, wheeled up beneath the front end of the Impala.

Sam bent down and called out, "Hey man, you ever take a break from this thing? How about you come out and take a swig of this tea. I made it this time, so it's just right and not trying to rot out your teeth with all the sugar Bobby dumps into it."

Dean flexed and moved his legs, wheeling out from beneath the car, and he looked up at Sam. Dean's face was smudged with dirt and grease. He sat up on the creeper and reached out. Sam handed him one of the glasses and Dean took a long drink and then let his head fall forward, before he looked up again, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun behind Sam.

"Bout time you dragged your ass outta bed, Sleeping Beauty. Was beginning to worry about you pulling a Rip Van Winkle or somethin'."

"No such luck," Sam said with a small smile, and then he shifted so he could look under the hood of the Impala. "Watcha working on?"

"The crankshaft. I missed something back when I was rebuilding the engine, so I'm catching it now, and it's being a sonofabitch."

Sam nodded. "Anything I could help ya with?"

"Naw," Dean said with a shake of his head. "Just keep me comp'ny, and hand me the right tool when I ask for it."

"Deal," Sam replied, and then Dean finished up the tea, settled down on the creeper and wheeled back under the front end of the car, calling out for a quarter inch wrench.

It was about ten minutes later when Sam's hand brushed Dean's while handing him a ratchet that he felt the tingle, and it was familiar, like something from a dream from long ago, and it triggered a ripple up his spine and a pang of desire in his belly. He'd been fighting off the desire for months, years actually if he was honest with himself, but ever since their father had died and Dean had nearly died for the second time, the desire had grown to the point where Sam couldn't make excuses or deny it anymore.

"Hey, Sam, get me the three quarter inch socket. The one by your left foot," Dean said from beneath the car, and then he nudged Sam with his boot. "Now would be nice, Sammy. Can't hold this shit up forever. My arm's startin' to get tired. So mind gettin' your head out of your ass?"

Sam shook his head to clear it and then handed Dean the socket. He took a step back and went to sit on the hood of an old junker in Bobby's yard. Sam reached for his glass and sucked a piece of ice into his mouth and let it crunch between his teeth as he tried to get his head on straight and not think about his brother as an object of romantic and lustful interest.

Dean wheeled out from beneath the car again; a brow raised as he sat up and looked over at Sam. "Already quittin' on me?" he asked and then his eyes narrowed. "What's goin' on with you, man? You've been actin' weird ever since… Well… You've just been weirder than usual lately."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I just keep seeing this woman in my dreams. It's weird. That's all."

Dean's eyebrows rose in skepticism. "You're gettin' some in your dreams? Hell dude, why not try turning on the charm while you're awake? Cause you definitely need to get laid. This whole monk thing you got goin'? It kinda freaks me out. We're men, we're supposed to be out there sowing some wild oats, gettin' our freak on. It's what we do. Instinct, you know? So, what's she look like anyway?"

"It's not like that. She's just there, trying to tell me something. She has this sad look on her face. She has long blonde hair, and these amazing blue eyes, and she glows with this golden light. She's beautiful," Sam replied.

"And you're NOT getting laid by this chick?" Dean asked incredulously.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Is that all you ever think about?"

Dean shrugged. "Well yeah, when I'm not thinking about eating or fixing my baby."

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It was night and he was standing on the rocky ledge of a drop off, and below was a deep pond. It seemed so familiar. He stepped near the edge and looked down, and then a soft, musical voice drifted toward him, and he turned, taking a step forward.

A light was emerging from the woods and he squinted until his vision adjusted to the new light in the darkness. His eyes widened as the glowing figure of a woman dressed in iridescent white robes stepped into the clearing, her feet bare, blonde hair flowing in waves down her back, and bright blue eyes staring through him.

"Sam, it's been a long time since we've spoken. You've learned a few tricks I see. I had to find a way to break through your walls to be heard. And I thought bringing you back to this place might help you remember," she said, and her eyes held sadness in their depths.

He blinked, and then her name was falling from his lips as flashes off jumping from the rocky ledge after Dean filled his mind, and then there was pain shooting through his head, and he woke up in a hospital bed with machines buzzing and beeping around him.

"Gabrielle."

"Yes. You were seven when we met. You've grown quite a bit since then. I've been looking in on you from time to time," she said.

"What is this about?" Sam asked.

Gabriella turned her gaze to the pond some twenty feet below, a sad smile shaping her lovely mouth. "Do you remember your wish?"

Sam looked confused for a moment and then his eyes widened. "That Dean would never leave me. And then you kissed my forehead and said it was granted."

"And he has never left you. You broke him when you left him behind to go to Stanford, and he visited often though you never saw him, just to see you and know you were well. You were the reason he survived his heart attack and why he was chosen by Roy LeGrange to be healed. You were the reason that he fought and argued with a reaper until she was possessed by the Demon and his life was spared in exchange for your father's soul. He is not capable of leaving you Sam, and he can never find anyone that means as much as you do. He is incapable of loving anyone other than you. You've broken him, and you are falling into sin. A sin that you cannot be saved from. You were touched by evil when you were six months old, Samuel, but this will consume you. I come to ask that you take back your wish."

"No, Dean is mine, and I'm not going to leave him. Never again. And he can't leave me. I couldn't survive it."

"Dean is dead three times over Samuel Winchester!" Gabrielle hissed. "And he is only walking this earth now because of you. He cannot move on without you. What kind of a brother does that make you? What about your impure thoughts about him? Would you condemn him to the depths of hell for your lust?"

Sam lifted his gaze, his hazel eyes locking with her sad blue gaze. "I love him, and I won't take it back. I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Then I am no longer your Guardian. You've chosen your path. May the Devil have mercy on your soul, because God will not," she whispered and turned around, but rather than walking back into the woods, two massive white feathered wings erupted from her back and flared into life, lifting her into the growing darkness, and then Sam was falling back, sinking into shadows.

----------

The noise was what woke him up. Sam was thrashing in bed, fighting with the sheets, sweat on his brow. Dean practically fell out of his own bed to get to Sam. He was about to reach down and restrain his younger brother and try to wake him up when Sam calmed down on his own and in a voice of wonder said, "Gabrielle."

Dean cocked his head a little, and nodded. So not necessarily a nightmare. He pulled a chair up next to his brother's bed and sat down in it. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting on his clasped hands. His eyes never left Sam's face.

He watched as his brother worked through the dream whatever it was, sometimes he said things, but most of it was hard to understand until he heard something that sent a shiver up his spine.

"No, Dean is mine, and I'm not going to leave him. Never again. And he can't leave me. I couldn't survive it."

There was more, but he couldn't really make out the rest, and then Sam was sitting up in a rush, his eyes flying open as he struggled to breathe in, like he'd just fought his way back to the surface of a murky lake.

Dean watched as his younger brother shook himself, consciousness seeping into Sam, and then Sam shifted and saw him sitting in the chair. Dean lifted a brow and Sam slowly let out a breath.

"Mind telling me about it, Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam looked confused for a moment. "Tell you about what?"

"Since when have I belonged to you? How long have I been yours, Sam?" Dean prompted, his eyes narrowing a little.

He noticed the heat and color rising to Sam's cheeks, even in the darkness, and Sam lifted his hand and scratched the back of his head. He shrugged, sighed, and looked defeated. "How much did you hear, Dean?"

"I heard enough to want to know what the hell is goin' on with you," Dean snapped.

"I met someone a long time ago, when I nearly drowned back in Arkansas. Her name was Gabrielle. I was seven years old, Dean, and she came into my room like an angel or something. She said that she tried to take me too soon, that I had a lot of living left to do. She said she owed me, so she granted me a wish. I wished that you could never leave me, like you left me that day when I nearly drowned. She kissed my forehead and said it was done."

"Okay, and what does this have to do with right now? You were a kid, you nearly died, it was a dream or something right?" Dean asked.

"Come on, Dean! Do you honestly believe that? I don't know what she was, but you can't leave me. You haven't been able to leave me since that day."

"What? You're saying I can't leave because of some stupid wish or curse? Please. You're my little brother, it's my responsibility to look out for you, that's all."

"Is that it? Really? Because I think it's more than that. I think when I left you it ripped you apart because you couldn't stand the distance. How messed up were you when I left Stanford?"

Dean shrugged. "I might have missed your whiny ass, but I wasn't trying to kill myself or anything."

"Stop making jokes! You're alive because of me! You can't leave me, and I can't take it back! You're trapped. You can't move on. Can't fall in love, have a normal life, because you can't leave me. I did that to you! You should be pissed at me! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Dean snorted. "Sam, I'll never have normal. I tried it with Cassie, it didn't work out, okay? You're my normal, my family, that's all I need. Look I cheated death, and I hate that people…that Dad died for me to live, but someone's gotta look out of for you, because on your own, you couldn't manage."

"It's more than that though," Sam said, his voice tight, and Dean cocked his head, wondering where Sam was going with this.

When the silence came to a breaking point, Dean opened his mouth, but Sam closed it as he leaned forward, his huge hand grabbing the back of Dean's head and dragging him forward into a kiss.

Dean's eyes slipped open and he watched as Sam pulled back, licking his lips and his eyes full of shame. Dean let his breath out slowly and then he shifted until he knocked Sam back on the bed, and straddled his brother. He bent forward, his lips sweeping Sam's mouth up into a kiss of desperation, and longing.

His tongue swept into Sam's mouth, tangling with Sam's tongue, and when Sam began to respond, Dean ground down against Sam, and found that Sam was as hard as him. Dean pulled back, both of them were breathing heavily.

Dean was the first to catch his breath as he said, "I don't care that I can't leave you. I was never meant to leave you. You're right, I do belong to you. It's those damned puppy eyes of yours. So are we gonna do this?"

Dean punctuated that last bit with a forward thrust and Sam thrust up in retaliation, his back arching, and Sam nodded. Dean bent back down for another kiss, both having chosen their path, not caring whether the Devil had mercy or not.

End.