Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my immense love for the Winchesters
He was three years old when he first thought of his mother. He asked Dean, just like he did everything else.
"Sammy, it's okay. She's in Heaven now. She's probably flying around with the angels. That's gotta be fun, right? It's okay. She's okay."
Sam remembered thinking how much he would like to fly with Mommy too.
He told Dean, and Dean smiled.
He was seven years old when Dad took the longest hunting trip in his short memory. The third day, he started getting worried, and asked Dean.
"It's alright, Sammy," Dean said, eyes glued to the small motel television. "He can take care of himself. He's probably beating some demon till it cries. Fun, right? It's alright. He's alright."
Sam remembered thinking about yellow eyes that shouldn't have been, and how much he'd like to be with Mommy right now, flying.
He whispered it to Dean, and Dean patted his head.
He was twelve years old when Bobby took the boys on a camping trip while John was away. Bobby started rubbing together two sticks, so He asked Dean why.
"It's cool, Sammy. He's just going to build us a little campfire and then we can roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories. Sounds like fun, right? It's cool. Bobby's cool."
Sam remembered thinking about burning ceilings, and yellow eyes, and screaming, and how much he wanted to be flying with Mom, even if that stuff was for little kids. He didn't tell Dean, but Dean frowned at him anyway.
He was twenty two when he met the love of his life. He didn't know what to do, so he asked Dean.
"Aha this is great, Sammy! Now you just have to get married. Never been the whole commitment guy myself, but you, you could do it. Bet it's fun, right? It's great. This is great!"
Sam remembered thinking about commitment and their consequences, about a fire and a pair of yellow eyes he shouldn't remember, about how much fun Mom must be having flying around, and wouldn't she be proud that her little Sammy was getting married, and yes, he would still like to fly with her, but maybe later, and with the love of his life, too.
He smiled at Dean, and Dean clapped his shoulder.
He was twenty six when he almost lost his brother. He was scared, and tired, but his brother was there, and just like always, Dean answered his question, even if he never asked it.
"It's alright, Sammy. Just a few bruises here and there. These burns aren't even that bad. Nothing as bad as the beating I gave that vampire! And you, swinging with that blade just like I taught you! It was fun, right? I'm alright, Sammy. We're alright."
He remembered thinking about blood and fire and losing another loved one to the flames and how Dean would love flying with Mom, both of them waiting for him, waiting for him to fly.
He looked at Dean, and Dean was staring off into the distance, likely thinking the same.
He was thirty nine years old when the world crashed onto him. He was thirty nine when the legendary Winchesters became Winchester. He wanted to ask but there was no one left to answer. So he didn't.
Instead, he laid next to his brothers broken corpse, bleeding out of almost every limb, praying that flying was really as fun as it seemed. He told this to Dean in a horse voice, but Dean was beyond the point of hearing.
He was gone.
And Sammy followed him without question.
