Sam Winchester never really liked his childhood.
There were many memories that he pushed away to the darkest corners of his mind.
Moving around. The bullies. Being an outcast.
But those weren't the only things that he wanted to banish from his memories. An absent father. The frequent arguments. The fear of losing his already small and broken family. The list could go on and on
But there were many memories that he clinged on to when life started crumbling at the edges.
He remembers a gentle hand. One that picked him up, cleaned his skinned knees and affectionately combed its fingers through Sam's curly, chestnut hair.
He remembers a bright smile and a loud laugh. A smile that shone when he took his first steps and tied his own shoelaces. A booming laugh when he first learned to tackle and when he came back from playing completely covered in mud.
He remembers a quiet voice. One that comforted him through the strings of nightmares. Talked him through his math homework. The voice that read him the same stories over and over again when he couldn't sleep at night. The hushed conversations that would take place on the hard motel bed.
He remembers eyes that softened when Sam smiled or laughed. Eyes that would be full of worry when he was sick or injured. Eyes that burned with fury whenever someone ever even thought of hurting Sam.
Sam Winchester never really liked his childhood.
But he did love Dean.