It had been three years since Sam Winchester had died.

Bitter, biting wind crept it's way under his worn leather jacket as he stood, one hand, wrapped around a cold glass, resting upon the freezing cold grave stone. Dean was glad that whiskey didn't freeze easily and was happy for the warmth it gave him as it slide easily down his throat. With his free hand he poured himself another glass, leaned his back into the icy stone marker and slide down to rest on the ground.

The sun was just rising, but it wasn't quite powerful enough to cut through the steely gray overcast sky. Yet there was still light to see. Dean watched the brown hills, slumbering now as winters cold grasp held them quiet, their gentle folds rolling, growing larger as they joined into the larger mountains in the distance. The tall evergreens, served as silent sentinels among the brown dead falls and what few amber leaves remained grasped onto their branches, rustling as the wind threatened to rip them down.

Dean sat, slowly drinking, thinking, remembering.

He missed his brother but he was glad he was gone now. Reaching over he caressed the stone. He chuckled at it's shape, a double heart. He couldn't believe Sam had gone along with it when Samantha suggested it years ago. But he was always more of a "chick flick" kinda dude than he ever was. Their plots had only sat empty for 11 years before Samantha was diagnosed with cancer. It just didn't seem fair.

Sammy met Samantha, ironic right? Sam and Samantha? He couldn't have made it up if he had tried. She was a nurse at a small rural hospital that they had limped into one night after a particularly, ridiculous, non-hunting related incident. A drunken bet, a rousing game of miniature golf later, Sam slipped and fell down into a "moat" surrounding a "castle."

Hilarious event, ass over appetite in he went, but unfortunately he earned himself a nasty gash up his calf as his leg caught on a bolt sticking out on the side of the blue lagoon.

"Bro, I'm so not stitching that up." Dean barely articulated as tears of laughter were still streaming down his face. "I'm way to tipsy and I'm liable to stitch my thumb to your leg or something."

Sitting, blood streaming down through his ripped pants leg. "Damnit Dean, these were my new jeans!"

More laughter ensued but Dean said on a more serious note "I don't think we should call Cass down for this."

"Nah, I agree, lets just drag my stupid ass up to the little hospital we passed on the way into town. Maybe you can find a cute nurse to flirt with while they patch me up real quick." Sam gave his brother a sly wink.

Dean was always the ladies man. Poor ol'Moose, too introverted, shy, hiding behind his dark long hair. But tonight was different, Samantha was different. From the first chuckle about how they had the same name, till the last stitch those two couldn't stop chatting with one another. She was beautiful, charming, outgoing, with long amber hair swept back into a ponytail. Her green eyes smiled down at Sam, as she finished wrapping up his leg. Dean might as well have been a shadow on the wall for all the attention she gave him.

Carefully she passed him a note, "Ok look, I never do this, ever. But you could call me sometime, if you're still in town that is."

Sam smiled from ear to ear "Yeah, I think I'll do that."

Unbelievably he did just that. The very next evening, Dean caught him sneaking around in the bathroom, hiding like a teenager, quietly talking to her on the phone. A big smile spread across Deans face. Finally, a real connection. He felt good about this, after all these years, the pain of Jess and the road, Sammy deserved this.

The relentless wind, continued biting at his face as he shifted using the cold hard stone to his advantage as a makeshift wind break.