AN: So, I've always loved the Samulet, and I hated when Dean threw it away. This is my take on a fix-it fic. I know it's been done more than enough times, but I couldn't help myself. This is set after season ten. (The following sentence contains minor **spoilers**) I totally dismissed the 'darkness' in this because I don't really know how that will work on the show and it wasn't really important to this story, and this also has no one in it except for Sam and Dean because I didn't want to have to deal with the uncertainty of Cas and Crowley's fates. (**Spoilers** are over).

Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to, I don't own Supernatural.

The Samulet. That's what those girls putting on that musical had called it. Sam supposed it was fitting. It seemed the people who read the Supernatural books had a lot of names for a lot of things. The only one Sam really had a problem with was 'destiel'. Dean hadn't liked it much either though, so he decided there was nothing to worry about.

Now Sam was looking down at the amulet he had given Dean so many years ago – the one Dean had rid himself of over five years ago. Sam thought about it a lot – so much that it was doubtlessly unhealthy and close to obsessive. He wondered if Dean ever thought about it, if he ever wanted it back. Sam knew he missed seeing it around Dean's neck, hanging down against his chest. He had come so close so many times to showing it to Dean, letting him know it wasn't actually gone for good, asking if he wanted it back. Every time, without fail, his fear had kept him from doing it.

He had played this scenario out in his head a dozen times. He would imagine himself wrapping up the amulet, maybe in newspapers, and handing it to Dean. Dean would look at him curiously, making some comment about how he was sorry for not getting Sam something for their anniversary, even thought Sam knew that Dean knew when their anniversary was. Sam would just stand there silently and wait for Dean to unwrap the small package. There was never anything he could think of to say. The wrappings fell away quickly, and soon enough, Dean was speechless, too. He would look at the charm hanging from the cord in his hand, awe on his face. Sam imagined him saying, quietly, "You kept it, for all these years?" Sam would nod, waiting to see what Dean would do. His brother hadn't given an indication of whether or not he was keeping it yet. Somehow, even though all had gone well in Sam's mind's eye thus far, Dean's eyes would grow cold and he would say, "Well, too bad it was a waste. Sorry, Sammy, but I'm not wearing it anymore. Those days are gone."

That was how it always went down. Dean would always give different reasons for not wearing it, but he would always refuse to take it back. Sam like to think that he should rationally know that Dean would want it back, but his fear would always tell him that he was just harboring false hope, so he would put the amulet back into the innermost zipper in the duffle bag that stayed in the closet of the room he and Dean now shared.

As he continued to look at the amulet, Sam wondered if today he might have the guts to do it – to go to Dean and tell him what he had been hiding from him for so long. He probably was making it out to be much worse than it actually was, and to be honest, what good was it doing him to carry it around everywhere? It was just causing unnecessary tension and doubt. He was becoming an expert on the fear of the unknown – if he hadn't already been an expert after the way he'd grown up. It seemed logical to just come clean to Dean, then he would know what Dean thought on the subject, and if he still truly didn't want it back, then Sam would throw it away himself.

A lot had changed since the day Dean had thrown the amulet away. The apocalypse was no longer looming over their heads like the storm it was, and there was no more of that unresolved tension that had once been between them now that they had admitted how they felt for one another. What a day that had been. One minute they had been arguing, the next they'd been kissing, and then they woke up in the same bed for the first time since being kids.

Forcing himself to get back on topic – because there are times to think about your love life with your brother, and this was not one of them – Sam wondered if Dean would have kept the amulet if he had known the truth that day. He wasn't just thinking about the fact that he'd loved his older brother even then; he was mainly thinking of the truth of what had happened after they'd been killed. Heaven. What Dean had seen had not been an accurate representation. Sure, the time when Sam had run away and had a dog had been nice, and that one 'normal' Thanksgiving dinner hadn't been bad at all, but the greatest things that had been a part of Sam's heaven had already been passed by before Dean got there. Dean had died after Sam, and had been dead for a while before he had found his younger brother. The best parts of Sam's heaven had been the ones Dean had missed.

Sam was struck with an idea. Suppose he told Dean that. What if he talked to Dean and told his brother about what he had missed before he had caught up with Sam? Maybe, after he got Dean to understand what had happened, he could tell Dean something along the lines of, "Hey, by the way, I have the amulet I gave you for Christmas when you were twelve. You want it back?" Maybe that way there would be a greater chance of—

"Sam, what is that?"

Sam whirled around to see his brother standing in the doorway, staring at what he had in his hand. He grimaced. He'd expected the supply run to take a little longer. True, the bunker had come well-stocked, but they still had to make sure they didn't run out of anything they needed or used on a daily basis. He briefly entertained the thought of hiding the amulet behind his back, but by the look on his brother's face, he knew it would be futile. He'd seen enough evidence.

"Well?" Dean asked, letting Sam know that he'd been silent a little too long.

"It's… exactly what it looks like. I kept it. When you threw it away that time in that motel room, I almost left it behind, but I just couldn't. So I took it out of the trash bin and hid it in my pocket. Then it stayed in my duffel bag for a while. When I was about to say yes to Lucifer, I may have cut open the backseat of the Impala and stitched the upholstery back together. Once I got my soul back I took it out again and repaired the upholstery again. I've basically just been hanging onto it ever since."

Dean stood speechless in his and Sam's bedroom doorway, not wanting to leave, but not sure he wanted to come in either. He was just torn. He also didn't know whether to hug his brother for keeping the damn thing, or punch him for keeping it from him. When he'd come into the bunker loaded with supplies to replenish their stashes, he had noticed it was oddly quiet. Wondering what Sam was doing, he'd decided to check the bedroom first. He'd seen Sam standing there close to the closet, seemingly in deep thought. When he'd given his brother's body a once-over – both to make sure he was ok and because he could, because Sammy was still his little brother, and he was one hot dude, too – it hadn't taken long for his eyes to find what had Sam so thoughtful. The amulet that had meant so much to the both of them for so many years, and still did, was handing from his brother's fingers, dangling midair.

The rush of emotions Dean had felt in that moment were almost overwhelming. He'd been brought back to that Christmas in 1991, when he had received the amulet. He'd remembered the time Sam had returned it to him after Dean had gotten back from Hell. He'd remembered taking it off to give to Castiel when he'd been searching for God, feeling naked going without it for the first time, as he had stated out loud. He remembered telling Cas not to lose it. Then, when Cas had given it to him, telling him it was worthless, Dean hadn't tried to argued. He'd thrown it away, losing it for good himself – he'd thought. He'd regretted letting the cord dropping his fingers since a week after the fact. He'd regretted not arguing with the angel when he'd told him it was worthless, because to Dean it was worth millions. He'd even looked online several times, hoping to find a look-alike and knowing he was willing to pay whatever necessary, no matter how many credit card scams, hustled pool and poker games, or even *gasp* legitimate jobs it would have taken for him to scrounge up enough money to afford it. He'd wanted it back more than anything. He'd just been too damn stubborn and prideful to ever admit as much to Sam, who had apparently kept it.

Now Sam had told him the story behind how he had the object in his hand, and he could kick himself. He should have just sucked it up and admitted he was wrong to do what he'd done. Then he would have had the amulet years ago. Sure they were going to have to talk about this sometime, beyond what Sam had just said, Dean just walked forward, knowing precisely what he wanted now. He yanked the cord from between Sam's fingers before Sam could prevent him. It was around his neck in a few seconds. Then Dean's arms went around his brother, giving him a forceful hug that was as manly as any hug ever was. Sam stood tensely still for a while before he finally wrapped his own arms around Dean, relaxing into the rough and firm but loving embrace.

When they pulled back, both had tears in their eyes. It was stupid really, all these emotions over a piece of jewelry. It was important though, no matter how useless an angel of the Lord thought it was. Then Sam was looking down at Dean's chest, as if to make sure that all this had just happened.

Suddenly, Sam was laughing. For a split second, Dean had thought the somewhat jerky noises that had the other man's chest shaking were sobs, but then he recognized them for what they were. "What's so funny, you gigantic moron?" he demanded.

"You put it on in such a hurry that it's backwards," Sam said.

When Dean looked down, he saw that his brother was right. He didn't see what was so amusing about it, but he took it off and turned it around anyway, glaring daggers at his brother the whole time. No one laughs at Dean Winchester. That's just uncool.

A few days later, Sam and Dean were laying in bed together at night. Dean was spooned up against Sam, the larger man's arms wrapped around him, their hands interlocked. In the peaceful quiet of the night, Sam said, "You didn't see everything, you know."

Dean took a moment to try and digest what Sam had said, but he couldn't, not for the life of him, figure out what Sam was talking about. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"After Walt and Roy shot us, and we were in heaven, right before… before you threw it away, when you found me in my heaven, I was having Thanksgiving dinner with that family. None of the other parts of my heaven that you saw were much better. Don't get me wrong – none of what you saw were bad memories, they just weren't the best. I think something that you may not have considered is that I was there longer than you, and we were both there for a while before you found me. You missed my favorite parts of heaven."

"Sam, look, you don't have to explain all this, alright? I know now that I was wrong when I threw it away. I was just upset and frustrated and jealous, so I decided I wanted to do something that would hurt you. I've regretted it ever since. You don't have to explain yourself to me," Dean interrupted.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." When he felt Dean nod, Sam continued. "The first thing I saw was this time you and me and Bobby were all in Bobby's back yard playing catch. It was one of the times when I felt like I had a grown man to look up to other than my big brother, and it was nice. You and I both know Dad was never much to look up to." For once, neither felt the need to reiterate that 'he did the best he could with what he had'. "Then the next thing I knew, I was asleep, having a nightmare. I was confused, because I was sure heaven was supposed to be good. Then I was waking up and there you were. You must have been about fourteen, which would put me at ten. You made me hot chocolate and watched cartoons with me until I felt safe enough to fall asleep again. Then I was at school. I wasn't sure how old I was, but it was definitely a high school. Then these kids started picking on me. It was about to get pretty bad, then you drove up. You looked like you were about twenty. You basically handed their asses to them. Then, the last one before the one you found me in, we were in the Impala together. Just the two of us. We were on the way to some hunt, I guess. I couldn't tell how old you were. We were just throwing insults at each other, basically just being brothers, and it was nice. Then I was having Thanksgiving dinner. You know the rest."

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I really am. I jumped to conclusions and I wasn't happy with you, and for one crazy second I wanted you to feel the pain I was feeling. It was a dick move. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Sam said. "All is forgiven." He leaned down and kissed the top of Dean's head. In response, Dean turned his own head, leaning up to kiss Sam on the lips. Before it could go too far, Sam leaned back and looked at Dean. "So, you were jealous, huh?"

"Shut up, bitch. You know how long I've felt this way for you. I just didn't think appreciate some girl having her hand that high on your thigh in your heaven."

"You know that wasn't what it was about, you jerk."

The End

AN: I wrote this somewhat late at night and I did read back through it, but I might not have caught all mistakes. If you see any really bad ones, let me know. Reviews are the best!