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Dean remembers the first time that he walked in on Sam in the bathroom, shirtless, with his pale hands tracing over his chest, a longing in his movements as he trailed them over his pectorals, a sullen look on his etheral face. Dean would have teased the boy for playing with his nipples, and he had been ready to make a comment about it. He shoved that idea in a grave the second Sam pulled a bra out of God knows where, hooking it behind his back, and stuffing socks in the cups for padding purposes.That was the first sign.As Dean watched his brother grow, filling out in muscle from the rigorous training that they had to endure, due to the constant demands of their Father, dictating them to spar, train, take a short break, and then start all over again. Sam’s strong, but Dean has a certain edge over the young man, and it’s almost as if Sam’s not even trying to turn the tables.Sam stopped wearing t-shirts, istead only walking around in hoodies that were far too big for him, enveloping his frame, and taking away any sort of form that his brother might possess beneath the cotton. Sam also stopped allowing Dean to trim his hair every once in a while, preferring to let it flow down his shoulders, experimenting with different ways to put it up for when they had to spar.Dean would be lying if he said he was surprised, when Sam came to him one day, tears in his eyes as he apologized for subjecting Dean to his attempt on his life–Dean could never burn that image from his mind, Sam’s convulsing form on the floor, limbs flailing around, foam leaking through the cracks in Sam’s lips. Dean doesn’t remember how he shoved his fingers down Sam’s throat, forcing Sam to throw up whatever he swallowed into the toilet, and then proceeded to carry Sam out to the car, rushing him to the hospital, all the while breaking down in the drivers seat, tears of rage and confusion slipping down his cheeks without preamble.Sam told Dean that something’s not right. He doesn’t feel like he belongs anywhere. He tells Dean that he doesn’t know who he is anymore, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, “why am I such a freak, Dean? What’s wrong with me?” Dean remembers pulling Sam into his arms, kissing the top of his head and whispering that Sam is perfect, and he’s always going to be perfect, and Dean swore he would find a way to help Sam–to make him feel whole again.They both come to the realization when Sam’s nineteen years old. A thing has started between them. A thing that Dean’s not willing to give up, no matter what the cost. Sam’s laying on his chest, when he broaches the subject, soft hands sweeping over Dean’s naked skin, hair splayed across Dean’s shoulder, bodies still connected at the waist, Sam’s warmth a comforting embrace around Dean’s member. Dean’s still slightly breathless at the time Sam announces that he thinks he knows what’s wrong with him, “I know why I don’t like who I am,” and before Dean has a chance to ensure Sam that he’s beautiful, and to never say something like that because Dean can’t stand the thought of Sam thinking he’s anything less than God’s gift to this earth, Sam silences Dean with a soft kiss, so full of admiration, love and gratefulness that Dean’s heart stops for a few beats of time.And then Sam says it.“I want to be with you, Dean. I do, but not as I am now…” Dean can see that Sam is fighting to get the words out. Dean’s not quite on board yet, but he encourages Sam with soft touches, lingering kisses, and sucks at Sam’s enticing throat.“Tell me what you want, Sammy. I’ll give you anything, you know that,” Dean promises, cradling Sam’s skull between his hands, green eyes full of desperation and need to know how to make Sam feel better, no matter what the cost.“I… I think I was meant to be a woman, Dean… I think something got mixed up along the way, but I–”Dean licks away Sam’s salty tears, accepting them into his body as if they were a mandatory drug. He connects their lips, inviting Sam’s tongue to his own private dance, hands never stopping their caresses to each perfect part of Sam they can find, pulling him in as close as possible, needing zero space between them.When the kiss breaks, Dean pushes Sam’s hair out of his face, tucks Sam’s head under his chin and kisses his scalp just like he did the first time this situation came around.“Whatever you want. I’ll support you, Sammy. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”Dean rocks Sam through his tears, whispering all the reaons that he loves Sam, all the things that Sam does to make him smile, all the things Sam says to give Dean a reason to live, and just Sam being Sam is all Dean will ever need, “whether your a dude or a chick, all I need is you, Sammy.”It takes a few years to get through everything. There’s a lot of bumps along the way. Arguments due to the hormone replacement, Dean feeling like the worst thing on Earth each time Sam screams at him that she hates him, figuratively ripping Dean’s heart out of his chest and crushing it agonizingly slowly, no chance for revival. Emotional rollercoasters that they go through together, tears of joy and angst spread evenly throughout the process.Then one day it’s all over, and Sam is who she has always wanted to be.Dean doesn’t notice that Sam makes a gorgeous woman. He doesn’t notice that Sam looks amazing in the dress Dean bought her to celebrate Sam being who Sam has always meant to be. Dean doesn’t notice that Sam has amazing breasts. Dean doesn’t notice that Sam has legs that go on for miles.All Dean notices is that that look in Sam’s eyes that used to hit Dean with so much self-loathing becasue he couldn’t give Sam what she wanted, is gone. Sam looks complete, alive, and she’s beautiful, inside and out.She’s Dean’s perfect girl, and Dean wouldn’t have her any other way.