Sam Winchester tossed in his cheep queen sized motel bed. Dreams haunted his brain and they all centered around his dead brother Dean. Dean, who had taken care for him since her was an infant. Who had carried him out of a burning house, who had read him fairy tales to allow him to retain his innocence, who had fought demons, ghost, and other monsters to remain by Sam's side. Dean who had been killed when he walked into a connivance store to by a couple of beers for his Sammy's birthday and walked in on a robbery in progress.

Sam's eyes jerked open, he had, had the dreams again, his brother burning in hell, sure Sam had found a loop hole in the agreement Dean had made with that Crossroads Demon but what if, what if he was: Sam jerked out of bed and barely made it to the toilet. Sam sat on his knees as the dry heaves came. He hadn't been able to stomach anything in days. Ellen and Jo who Sam had called after Dean's death were worried sick about him. He knew they had called Sarah, one of the girls Sam had met on the road who he stayed in contact with. Sam honestly didn't plan on being here when she arrived.

Sighing Sam made his way back to the room. Sleep wasn't an option, he looked around the room and his eyes fell on the bag that his brother had carried around. Slipping to the floor he opened it and began pulling things out. Dean own seven shirts and seven pants, seven pairs of jockey underwear and seven pairs of boxers, "For those days that Lil' D had to breath Sammy." Tears welled in Sam's eyes as he could hear his brother's voice whispering in his ear.

Slowly Sam pulled everything out only to find a wooden box in the bottom. Opening it a sob broke loose, pictures of Dean and Cassie, the only girl Dean thought about giving up hunting for, of Dean and Ellen and Jo. There were pictures of Dean and Sam's mother who they had lost so young, and pictures of their father who the yellow eyed-demon had stolen from them. In the bottom of the box was a envelope with Sam's name on it. Dean had once written to him, with trembling fingers he opened the letter.

Dear Sammy-

I sit here in the Impala and think of you. Dad and I just finished

a case where a man's dreams/nightmares were coming true

turned out his dead brother was granting all his wishes.

Made me think of you and if I could wish all my dreams true what

would I dream for? You to come home? Nah, I know why you

gotta do this: this thing at Stanford, I finally understand.

I can remember a time before hunting, when it was Dad and Mom

and me. When they brought home this pink thing and told me

it was my baby brother Sammy. I remember this, I remember playing

football with Dad and making cookies with Mom. But you don't.

You have no memories that don't involve hunting. You need to

have those Sammy, so when you see all the darkness that we see

you remember why you're fighting.

So you go make your happy memories Sammy. And know that no

matter what I'm there beside you. All you have to do is look around

and you'll feel me as the sunshine on your head or the wind that whips

around you.

I miss you baby brother.

Catch ya on the Flipside-

Dean

It was dated exactly two years ago. Sammy felt the sunrise as it warmed his face and he could feel the weight of Dean's hand on his shoulder as he leaned back and knew that he would continue on with their work, that he would hold onto the memory of Dean as his happy memories, and when his time to rest was upon him, he'd see his brother again when Dean came to take Sam to heaven.