Note: I was super insecure about posting this for some reason...but hopefully it doesn't totally suck. :)
It had never been a good holiday for Dad, not after the fire...after Mom.
I should have known it would be the same for Sam, after Jess.
The difference was, Sam was not Dad.
He wouldn't spend the day throwing himself into a hunt, or getting wasted at a bar.
No, Sam was different.
He started the day off by gasping awake from a nightmare. It wasn't any wonder what the dream had been about. I pretended not to notice, allowing my brother to save face as he climbed out of bed and took a shower. Soon after he exited the bathroom, I heard him leave the motel room, no doubt out to grab some grub. Only then did I crack open my eyes, five in the morning. It was five in the bloody morning.
I groaned loudly and turned over on the bed, cursing myself for not being more prepared. I hadn't realized until last night that today was Valentine's Day. I hadn't thought to make plans, to find something to make this day just a fraction less painful for my little brother.
His first Valentine's Day since Jessica.
I should have been prepared.
I released a tired sigh and dragged my ass out of bed and into the shower, all the while thinking about the best way to tackle the day. Personally, I had nothing against this particular holiday, it was every unattached grifter's Christmas; but this year my little brother was in pain, and that changed things.
My first plan of action was to completely ignore today, pretend as though it was the same as every other. If - for some reason - that didn't pan out, my next strategy was to go to a movie, or the library, or somewhere else that was full of distractions for Sam.
I nodded to myself in agreement with the game-plan, as I towelled off and pulled on my clothes, exiting the bathroom the same time my brother entered the room.
"You're up early." He commented, setting the food down on the wobbly table and swiping discreetly at his eyes.
"Not as early as you." I replied casually.
"Couldn't sleep." Sam mumbled, handing me a coffee and the bag of takeout.
"Mmm." I hummed, because that fact was apparent.
I emptied the food onto the table top, frowning at the contents.
"What's the matter? Did you want something other than pancakes and sausages? I just thought-
"The food's great, Sam, for me, but last time I checked this wasn't really your idea of a good meal." I stated, scanning the contents and seeing no sign of fruit, or muffins, or any of the other girlie shit the kid preferred to eat.
"I already ate."
"Bullshit." I called, because I knew Sam, and at the speed he ate, there was no way he would have had the time to down breakfast, in the short while he had been gone.
Sam shrugged, not denying my claim, as he sat heavily in a kitchen chair, sipping at his coffee.
I let the matter drop. I would cram food down my brother's throat later, if it became necessary.
"Well, since you're not eating. How about you find us a hunt." I suggested, setting the laptop in front of him.
Sam nodded.
Of course my brother managed to find a hunt two states over. The last thing the young man needed was to be stuck in the car all day with his thoughts. I had tried to talk Sam out of it, telling him to pick a closer one, but the stubborn brat had refused, so after I finished eating, we climbed into the Impala and headed on our way.
It was going to be a long drive and I was hoping that at least the exhausted passenger would get some rest, but he refused to even close his eyes. Instead, Sam spent hours staring glumly out the window and absently picking at a hole in his jeans.
Every now and then I noticed him swipe the moisture from his eyes, and every damn time he did, it tore at my heart.
I didn't know how to make this better for him.
And that pissed me off.
We stopped for lunch about halfway through the trip. Sam made a pathetic attempt at swallowing about five salad leaves before giving up on the idea of eating. Again, I let it slide, promising myself that I would force him to eat an actual meal for dinner.
A couple hours later, it started to rain, which seemed almost fitting; the dark sky and heavy raindrops outside, accompanied the solemn mood occupying the interior of the car.
When Sam suddenly began to speak I had to turn down the music, his voice low and soft, it could barely be heard over the thunder rumbling outside.
"You remember that Valentine's Day, when I was a kid?" He inquired.
"Uhh, there were a few of them, Sam, which one are you talking about?" I questioned.
"The tornado. I think I was, uuhh-"
"Twelve, you were twelve." I finished for him, as I recalled that day a decade ago.
It was raining.
It had been raining for days, weeks even. But I had the Impala, so I didn't care.
I watched Sam jog out of the school toward the car. I winced as he stumbled, knowing the kid still had a laceration on his knee from the last hunt, that had yet to heal. The klutzy young boy had tripped while we'd been running from the fugly of the week. I had scooped him up before he'd been eaten, but that hadn't prevented the gash that he had received, curtesy of the sharp rocks he had landed on.
Sam honestly had the worst luck of any kid I had ever met.
I shook my head, a fond smile on my face as my little brother dropped into the seat next to me, pulling the door closed.
"Hi-ya Sammy."
My little brother looked over at me, his shaggy hair slicked down against his face.
"Is it ever going to stop raining?" He grumbled, as I pulled from the parking lot.
"No. It is going to rain forever." I replied sarcastically.
"You better hope not, or your car will flood." Sam replied, a smirk on his face.
"Don't even think shit like that, dude!" I barked.
Sam chuckled in response, clearly proud of the reaction he had coaxed from me.
"How's your knee?" I asked, after I let the kid enjoy his moment.
"I think it's bleeding again." He announced casually.
"Bad?" I questioned, glancing down to catch a glimpse, but Sam's jeans were soaked, and I was unable to tell if the blood was seeping through.
"Don't think so." He said, rolling his pant leg up. The blood had soaked bandage. The previously white layers of gauze were stained dark red, and I was betting that at least one of the stitches had ripped.
"Damnit, Sam. What the hell happened?" My concern sounding more like anger, the way it often did.
"I just tripped. It's not a big deal!" My little brother replied defensively.
"You tripped? Again? Buddy, you seriously need to work on your coordination."
Sam didn't respond, which was concerning. He was never one to allow somebody else to have the last word.
I sent him a side-long glance and watched as shame and embarrassment flickered across his young face.
"Who was it?" I ground out, piecing it all together. The re-opened wound, the avoidant gaze, and the biting of the bottom lip, it all added up to one thing.
Bullies.
"What do you mean?" My brother questioned, feigning ignorance.
"Cut the crap, Sam." I ordered.
The kid next to me released a long sigh, resignation setting in, as he slumped back against the seat and pushed his dripping hair out his eyes.
"Some jerk shoved me, during gym." He stated plainly.
I clenched my jaw as my blood boiled with fury. How dare some asshole but his hands on my little brother. I clenched the wheel tightly in my hands and glared out the windshield, while pulling the Impala into the parking space in front of our motel room.
"You good to-
"I can walk, Dean. It's just a cut. It's not like I got my leg amputated." Sam declared in exasperation, as he climbed from the car.
"Sorry for asking, princess." I hollered through the rain.
Sheets of rain were falling from the sky in a full-on downpour, completely drenching me as I unlocked the door to our room.
"Alright, sit down. Let me take a look at your gimp knee." I instructed, shaking off my jacket and running my hand through my wet hair.
Sam huffed in annoyance, but didn't bother arguing as he dropped his book bag on the ground and dropped onto the kitchen chair.
I squatted down, carefully pulling the bandage off and examining the wound. It was seeping, one stitch had ripped, but the others seemed to be intact.
"I've got to fix this, or it's going to keep oozing." I explained, grabbing the kit from the bathroom and pulling out the necessary supplies.
Sam sat compliantly, listening to me curse at his blood and its refusal to clot. This kid's blood had always run way too fucking thin, mine and Dad's was thick and always clotted quickly, but Sam's never seemed to cooperate.
My little brother hissed as I pulled the broken stitch from his cut.
"Sorry." I apologized, knowing that having your open wound prodded, was never a pleasant feeling.
"It's okay." Sam stated through a slow exhale, flinching when I began the new stitch.
It wasn't okay.
It wasn't okay that Sam got hurt.
And it sure as hell wasn't okay, that some jackass shoved him around and aggravated the injury.
My thoughts turned violent, but my touch remained gentle as I tied off the stitch, dabbing away the blood before re-bandaging the cut.
"There. That should be good." I bit out, packing the med kit back together
"Don't be angry, Dean." The soft, simple request caught my attention and I looked up at my little brother.
"I'm not angry with you."
"I know, but just...don't be like that. Not today. It's your favourite holiday, remember?" Sam reminded me with a dimply grin.
"Unattached grifter's-
"Christmas." We finished together.
I snickered at the term I had come up with last year when I had been trying to make the kid laugh on this very same day, after our dad had left us in some dive motel for the weekend.
"Yeah, I remember." I replied, allowing myself to momentarily put away the anger I felt toward the little punk who had broken rule number one. I promised to teach him a lesson about what happened to any asshole who put their hands on my little brother, but I would worry about that later. At a time when I could actually do something about it.
The thunder cracked loudly, Sam flinched in response, looking out the window with wide eyes.
"It's getting bad." He commented, walking to the window and observing the storm outside.
"It'll pass."
"You got plans tonight?" My brother questioned, pulling a book from his backpack and collapsing onto the bed.
"Yeah, just going to a movie with this chic from school." I responded, checking the time and realizing I should get moving.
Sam nodded, already too engrossed in his novel to pay much attention.
I shook my head, grabbing a shower and changing my clothes in record time. I had arranged the date to be around the dinner hour, so that I could be home before it was too late. Sam may have been independent enough to stay on his own, but I still didn't love leaving him alone in the motel room all night.
Once I was ready to head out, the storm had grown. The thunder clapped loudly and the lightning lit up the sky ever few seconds. The rain was pelting hard on the roof and the wind was howling.
"There's some leftover pizza in the fridge, for dinner." I informed my brother, sliding into my jacket.
He grunted in response.
"I'm not kidding, Sam, I don't care how good that book is. I want you to eat something." I insisted, my tone serious.
"Okay." The voice came from behind the pages of the novel, and it cracked in a way that had my big brother instincts on high alert.
"Hey, what's going on?" I inquired. Upon receiving no reply, I made my way to the bed furthest from the door, pulling the book from Sam's hands, in time to see him flinch at the boom of thunder.
"Storm?" I asked, understanding dawning. The youngest Winchester had never been a fan of storms, they always made him uneasy.
"It's fine. I'm fine." He declared, looking as though he was trying to convince both himself and me.
A particularly loud crack of thunder followed by a bright flash of lightning, had Sam's body betraying his falsified confidence, as he instinctively grabbed hold of my arm.
I glanced out the window, the wind was blowing impossibly hard and the clouds were as black as the Impala.
Sam quickly released his grip on me and clenched his hands together in his lap, as though to stop them from seeking comfort.
"I'm fine, Dean. Really, you can go." He announced, staring up at me with those ridiculously large puppy dog eyes.
I took another glance out the window from where I was standing, and frowned at the severity of the weather. The storm was big, and only seemed to be growing. It didn't look as though it was going to be letting up any time soon.
It didn't take long for me to make my decision.
One glance down at the little kid curled up on the bed trying his damnedest not to appear absolutely terrified, was all I needed in order to make up my mind.
I pulled the chunky cellphone from my jacket pocket, scrolling quickly through the contacts until I landed on the name of the girl I was supposed to be going out with tonight. I called and cancelled, making a quick apology, declaring that something had cone up, and then ending the call just as her complaining began.
"You didn't have to do that." Sam muttered, embarrassment radiating off him.
"Dude, there is no way in hell I'm taking my baby out in this weather. Risk her engine flooding, for some girl? Not a chance."
Two dimples appeared on Sam's face as he smiled up at me.
And that, made it all worth it.
"Besides, I'm not letting you eat all the leftover pizza." I remarked with a smirk.
The power went out a few minutes later, and Sam and I ate our cold pizza in the dark as we played poker, betting the only things we had at the time, cookies. My little brother remained close to me, and on occasion he would cringe at the sound of the storm, but mostly he would laugh at my insults and toss back some of his own, as we played hand after hand.
We could hear the wind howling and the rain pelting, but we didn't pay much mind to the weather.
It wasn't until the motel window smashed, that I noticed that we weren't dealing with a simple storm anymore, but rather a bloody tornado.
I climbed from the bed, Sam standing at my back with a death grip on the tale of my shirt. One outside told me it was time for immediate action, I could see the twister in the distance. The power of the wind coming through the window already setting me off balance.
"Sammy, I want you to go to the bathroom and get in the tub." I ordered, recalling past lessons from my father about the safest place to be in a motel during a tornado, because only a marine would teach their kid random shit like that.
"No, Dean. I want to stay with you." Sam insisted, his fingers clenching tighter around my clothing.
"I'll be right there, kiddo. I promise. Just go. Now!" I ordered, channel John Winchester's drill-sergeant tone and shoving my kid brother in the direction of the small bathroom.
Sam stood his ground, never one to follow orders, and shook his head.
"Not without you." He argued, having to shout over the noise of the storm.
I shook my head in exasperation and grabbed onto my little brother's hand, holding it in a death-grip, as I rushed about the room, gathering our duffels and anything else of significance.
Sam cried out in surprise when a tree branch came flying through the window, and I tucked him up against my body, protecting him from any flying objects as I ushered the small child into the bathroom.
"Get in!" I shouted, slamming the door closed and then discarding our meagre belongings in the space between the toilet and the tub.
Sam finally did as he was told, scrambling quickly into the tub, without releasing his tight grip on my hand. I climbed in after him, maneuvering the kid against the side closest to the wall, before wrapping myself around him.
I felt Sam's one arm wrap underneath my coat and around my side as I held him against my chest, his other fingers travelled against my shirt, stopping once they found the amulet and locking around it.
I had one arm wrapped around my brother's thin body and another behind his head, his shaggy hair tickling my chin as I tucked him close to me.
I whispered reassurances, not sure Sam could even hear me over the chaos, but providing as much comfort I could while the storm raged and the noises outside the bathroom door grew louder and more aggressive.
At one point the door was blown from it's hinges, and I heard it smash to the ground and felt the edge of it digging into my back. Instinctively, my hold tightened around my little brother, his small body shaking violently against my torso.
I didn't have the slightest idea much time had passed, but eventually the winds died down, and the thunder faded, leaving an eerie stillness in its place.
Both Sam and I had come away unscathed, the motel, however, hadn't been quite as lucky. By miracle, the Impala had received only minor damage and we had been able to pack all that remained of our belongings, and drive away from the town that the tornado had left in shambles.
That day, and for weeks after, all I could think of was what would have happened if I had left. If I had gone on my date and Sam had been in that motel room alone when that storm hit. The only thing my mind could focus on was how terrified he would have been and how badly he could have been hurt.
I was haunted by the fact that my kid could have died, because I almost hadn't been there to protect him.
"Yeah. You remember?"
I was pulled from the memory by Sam's words.
"Yeah, Sammy. I remember." I said, glaring at the rain dropping onto the windshield, as though it had played a part in the storm from all those years ago.
"You were always there." My brother whispered, his face turning toward me.
"What do you mean? I almost ditched you for a date." I declared, hating myself for what could have happened.
"You didn't. And you were there. And you saved us." Sam stated, his words oozing with adoration that I didn't deserve.
I shook my head, unwilling to accept the praise my brother was trying to give.
We were silent for a moment, and then Sam spoke again.
"Thanks, Dean."
My face screwed up at the comment and I glanced to my right.
"You don't need to thank me for something that happened over ten years ago, Sam." I explained.
My brother shook his head, his shaggy hair swaying with the motion.
"Not for that, well sort of, but just thanks for always being there, even when..." Sam cleared his throat of emotion, as he wiped away the moisture gathering in his eyes.
"Even when everyone is gone. You are always here. So, thanks for that."
The only response I could give was a nod, as I swallowed the lump growing in my throat. There was no way I could risk speaking and end up crying like a little girl. So, I nodded and patted my brother's knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze and glancing quickly in his direction. His hazel eyes were filled with tears and trained on me. I could only look at that degree of overwhelming love for a second, before I was forced to turn away in order to maintain my composer.
This kid.
This fucking kid.
So grateful that I stuck around.
That even when Dad was off on his Valentine's Day bender and even when Jessica was dead and buried, I was always around.
He didn't expect me to magically fix everything, the way I wished that I could.
Hell, the kid didn't expect much of anything at all.
He was just glad I was there.
Just happy that I chose him.
"I'll always be around, little brother." I promised, my voice gruff with emotion as I turned and sent Sam the most reassuring smile I could muster.
And what did he do?
He grinned in return.
He fucking grinned.
As though I had just given the greatest gift in the world.
I felt my heart swell, because I didn't deserve Sam's adoration, but he gave it to me anyways.
I loved my kid, so fucking much.
"By the time we hit town it'll be too late to start on the research, so you want to grab a pizza and just hang out for the night? I'll even let you order that girlie crap you're so into."
The dramatic sigh to my right was music to my ears, signifying that Sam wasn't in too deep of a funk to display complete exasperation.
"It's Hawaiin, Dean, and there's nothing girlie about it."
"Dude, it's fruit on a pizza. It doesn't get much more feminine."
Sam snorted in amusement and rolled his eyes.
"Jerk." He stated with a smile.
"Bitch." I replied, not bothering to hide my delight.
Because my brother was going to eat and we were going to get through today, and every other Valentine's Day to come.
I would always be there for Sam, to help him through our shit-storm of a life.
All the pain, bitterness, violence, and death had not changed my little brother.
And I wouldn't let it.
No tornado, bully, or damn demon was going to break my kid.
Not as long as I was around.
Sammy was untouchable.
It was about time that the world knew that.
It was about time everyone learned Rule #1.
Touch Sammy, and I rip your fucking lungs out.
Note: Thanks for reading! Please comment/review if you have a moment. I really appreciate it. - Sam