The First Day
by facemygeneration
Summary: So overcome with grief about the death of his wife, John put his children up for adoption. Eight years later, Sam and Dean find each other again by chance.
Author Note: This is some nice holiday drabble. If people like it, maybe I'll do a follow-up or two. Tell me what you think! :D
Merry Christmas!
Thud.
Ice slid down silky brown hair that hadn't been cut in months. Dropping off of the oversized eight-year-olds head, slushy snow landed with a plop on the shoulder of his jacket. Brown eyes gazed at in it awe, his lanky body held still in complete shock. Finally regaining his senses, he whipped around to see an older boy smirking at him, a satisfied twinkle in his eyes.
"What are you looking at?" the younger boy squeaked. This ruffian looked like he wanted a fight. Usually kids were scared away by the sheer size of Sam, but this kid didn't look fazed in the slightest.
"Just enjoyin' the view," the boy with the light brown hair called back, and Sam could practically hear the grin in his voice. He was surprised how irritated a stranger could make him in such a short time.
"Oh, the snowball on my head? Was that you? Wow, that's pretty funny."
Sarcasm oozed from Sam's every direction. He couldn't help but feel peeved that it didn't make the other so much as blink. In fact, he didn't even deign Sam with a retort. He just stood there, grinning like a total idiot.
"What is your problem, crazy?!" Sam shouted.
Thud.
Before he knew it, another snowball covered his face in ice, burning his face with how cold it was. Laughter emanated from the boy's direction. It was earthy and full, and Sam couldn't help but smile despite the obnoxiousness of the situation. The boy had the sort of laugh that made you want more of it.
Bending down, Sam gathered some snow into his mittens that were two sizes too big. His family couldn't afford any new ones, so he got his dad's old ones. He didn't mind, though. Sam was just happy to be somewhere besides Antrast. The town was infuriatingly small, and he hated being contained. Out here, he could run and jump and do whatever he wanted.
He wound his lanky arm back and concentrated all his strength into his arm. Meeting the older boy's eyes, he smiled mischievously. The boy just stood staring from a few feet away, mouth slightly open, like he didn't quite believe Sam had the nerve to do it.
Thud.
He was wrong.
"You just hit me in the face!" he sputtered through a mouthful of snow.
Sam erupted into laughter, boyish and bubbling.
"Bitch," the boy said, but his eyes held nothing but amusement.
"Jerk," Sam shot back without hesitation.
They stared at each other a second, and there was something there neither of them could quite place. Maybe if they were older, they could have recognized it. But no—not even as adults could they quite understand what they had found in each other. It was beyond a definition. Just like Sam, it didn't like to be contained.
The boy walked over, a hint of bow-leggedness in his confident strut. Pulling up beside the younger kid, Sam couldn't help but notice the height difference. Although he was clearly older, the boy was shorter by at least an inch. It didn't seem to faze him, though. He grinned wolfishly, as confident as ever.
"Dean."
"Sam."
Sam extended his hand so they could finalize their greeting with a handshake. His father had taught him to be polite, even to little punk boys who hit strangers in the face with a snowball. Dean grabbed his hand solemnly and shook as if they were making a life-altering pact.
Normally, Sam would have expected questions about where he was from, why he was there; all the usual inquiries from people who were just getting to know him. But he should have known Dean wouldn't do that. Even after mere minutes, Sam knew this freckled boy better than that.
"What are you waiting for, Sam? We're only wasting precious daylight staying here like sitting ducks! We have shit to do!"
Mumbling something about his parents waiting for him back in the cabin, Sam let himself be dragged off by this mysterious new boy. Knowing it was most likely going to get him in trouble, he didn't refuse being whisked away into a world of new things. He couldn't explain it, but he had complete trust in Dean. His hazel green eyes held adventure and excitement, and Sam's reflected it back for the first time in his life, replacing the look of a cooped up, perfect child.
"Today's the first day of the rest of your life, Sammy!" Dean shouted back over his shoulder, stumbling through the snow, letting go of Sam's arm. "Try to keep up, lil' bro!"
Sam opened his mouth to say that Dean couldn't call him Sammy. No one could call him Sammy, not even his parents. He wasn't a chubby little kid, he was tall and muscular and growing up now. He was Sam.
But then he grinned, and that anger fell away like melting snow. With Dean, he didn't mind it so much. It was like he finally had an older brother; someone to look after him and mess up his hair and call him a bitch.
Sammy, he thought to himself, a Dean-like twinkle appearing in his eyes.
He laughed out loud and followed Dean into the snowy forest.