11 11 11
No spoilers, haven't seen season 7, just guessing so please don't remark.
Absolutely no offence meant.
Just a memorial fic.
The boys acknowledge Armistice Day in their own quiet way.
"You ok, dude?" Sam asked, softly, and glanced his watch.
10.59am.
This was a big deal to the brothers, partly because their father had never let them miss a Remembrance day in their lives, and partly because it just felt the right thing to do.
Even when he attended Stanford, Sam took the time to show his respect by laying a wreath of poppies at the local memorial statue.
The sun was bright in the sky, high above the Grand Canyon. It was so quiet, not one bird was singing, and the wind was nonexistent, as though it had been told, somehow, that now was not the time.
Dean stared ahead, eyes squinting in the light.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just remembering, Sammy," he murmured. "Remembering everyone we lost."
He glanced at Sam, eyes watering.
"We're still fighting the war," he raised his shot glass in salute. "It never really ended."
And Sam understood. It was just a slightly different set of rules.
Dictators come and go, maybe, but the goal was the same: freedom, in all its glory, is worth fighting for.
Worth dying for.
""Si vis pacem, para bellum" "Sam uttered, sadly. "If you wish for peace, prepare for war."
Dean said nothing just took another shot.
"Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus" Sam added and smirked without humour. "Smug bastard was probably right."
He took his own hit of Jack and swallowed it down without a shudder.
This was usually Dean's cue to rib Sam for that show of geekiness but, instead, he poured another Jack for them both, and took solace in the fact that Sam was right there with him.
Jaded, screwed, and fucked up, but alive nonetheless.
11 o'clock came and went, the two minutes silence as poignant for the Winchesters as it was for anyone else in the world who stood at their desk, on the sidewalk, in Church, in the shopping mall, office, or doctor's surgery... for anyone who had fought and lost, survived against the odds, children, grandchildren... in those two minutes, the Winchester brothers were on the same wavelength.
And it hurt, just as it should.
If Sam was surprised at his brother's sudden low, husky voice, he didn't show it.
"They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe."
Dean paused and took a shaky breath.
"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them."*
Sam stared at his brother for a long moment, then took his own hit again.
It was 11:02 on the 11th Day of the 11th Month, and neither of them had much left to say.
Last Post.
Dedicated to our boys and girls, out there right now, fighting for our freedom.
And to those who lost their lives protecting us.
Stay safe, be happy and look after each other, wherever you are.
We'll all be together again someday.
With much love,
ST xxx
*Taken from Laurence Binyon's poem "For the Fallen".