This is what happens when the chief drabbles. And gets sentimental. I'm sorry.

For Lily, my dearest reader-friend-listener-person-thingy. I hope you enjoy this monstrosity that is probably filled with too many mistakes, even though its like 5 paragraphs long.

Disclaimer: Do I have to? Really? Fine. I own nothing.

Sam remembers hot Summer days, spent eating a full box of water ice blocks as their father sped down the back roads of unknown towns with the windows down and the speakers up.

Dean remembers Winter nights, wrapped in their mothers crocheted blanket in the back seat. Watching Sammy sleep on the way home from the local diner, with the music on low and his parents murmured voices as they spoke softly to each other, lulling him to sleep.

Sam remembers Spring mornings, catching bugs in Uncle Bobby's car yard, blessing Dean with every sneeze and helping their dad carry tools to fix the car.

Dean remembers Autumn lunches, making ham sandwiches, passing them back to Sam and across to John. Smiling and laughing at the bad jokes Sam learned at school.

The boys forget the days of motels, some weeks at Bobby's and a few months of John. But they always remember the years of Baby.

Do that thing you you do with the reviews, yeah?