E/O Drabble Challenge
Challenge Word: MOM
Word Count: 300 - Triple Drabble
Other players in the challenge are now too many to list here! There are lots of people soaking up this Supernatural sun. You can find the list of names at Enkidu07's profile page and/or OnyxMoonbeam's profile page. Also, to find all of the lovely drabbles, there's a sweet little C2 community out there to subscribe to and enjoy. You can find the link on their profile pages mentioned above.
Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.
PAST TIME TO WORRY
By: Vanessa Sgroi
Sam wasn't sure why it caught his attention, but it did. He reached down and plucked it from the depths of the trash can. The tattered, stained baby-blue envelope had Deanie scrawled across the front, and Sam knew—just knew though he had no familiarity with it—that the bold handwriting belonged to their mother.
With a curious frown, Sam extracted the well-worn, much-creased card inside. It was an old birthday card with a teddy bear and the number four featured front and center. He opened it.
Dearest Deanie,
Wishing the happiest of Happy Birthday's to our handsome little man and soon-to-be best big brother in the world.
Mommy and Daddy love you! XXXXOOOO
Sam swallowed hard, recognizing the treasure for what it was. One of the last mementoes Dean had of their mom. But why was it in the trash? Further inspection of the trash can revealed a number of other revered items, including the beloved one-and-only family photo they had. All discarded in the trash much like the amulet just a few short years ago. Sam's chest tightened in remembrance. His concern and fear solidified a little more.
Marching down the bunker's hallway, Sam stopped at his brother's bedroom. Knowing Dean had just left on a beer and grocery run, Sam didn't hesitate and deftly picked the lock. Crossing the threshold, he turned in a circle, staring at the stark cell Dean's room had become—stripped of every homey touch of which Dean had once been so proud. A cell Sam had surely had a hand in making. Unease cracked through him like a whip. Disavowal was no longer an option—the clues no longer indistinct.
Something was happening with Dean—to Dean—something all kinds of wrong, and Sam had no idea whatsoever how to stop it.
FIN