Author's Comment: Very angsty as usual. I love angst. I can't help it. I wrote this for a contest and decided to upload it here. I do not own any part of Supernatural or any of it's characters.

It all started with a forecast, then a news channel. From there, it all went downhill.

Memorial's Day. A day that John and Dean Winchester always spent together to protect the memory of fallen comrades to battle, even if not fighting an actual war, but the hunter war. The battles were fierce and not everyone made it out alive… Like Ellen and Jo… John.

The news report flashed quickly on the screen, in bright letters, "Rolling Thunder". Sam knew about "Rolling Thunder" ever since the first Memorial Day he could remember. It was an annual motorcycle rally that is held in Washington, DC during the Memorial Weekend to recognize POWs and MIAs. About 400,000 veterans will roar across Washington on their motorcycles as a tribute to American war heroes.

But for Dean and Sam, it wasn't just the war heroes they raised their beer to in somber, but the hunters and the warriors who had lost their lives along the way to their journey to stop the apocalypse.

The rain hit the roof of their motel, states away from "Rolling Thunder" rally and states away from their hearts tonight. Sloshing against the window, the clear droplets slid down the pane, slowly. Frowning deeper, Sam watched this, his own heart seeming numb and missing. He clutched tighter to his beer, feeling lost and foreign in a new world with new eyes.

Sucking in a breath, his eyes traveled away from the window, back to the screen with sleek black motorcycles slid across the screen in the bright sunshine, almost as if God was shining their way to happiness. Yeah, right. The story pained him as he watched it, making his lower lip tremble in memories of soaked blood, gasoline and heartache.

He was stronger than this though.

Sam gathered breath into his lungs and steeled it there, hoping it gave him courage, gave him strength. His eyes flittered over to the seat next to him, where a slumped Dean sat. The playful light was gone from his eyes and what remained there, scared Sam. Dean, not only had the hunter's to commemorate, but all those he hurt in hell, to rest their souls. He was haunted. His eyes showed the tale that Sam knew he would never hear.

The shoulders were curled in tight to his body and the beer hung limply from his hand as his lips were in a deep frown. There in the corner's sparkled fresh tears, for the fallen warrior, for the heroes.

At a time like this, Sam knew Dean was thinking, iWhy not me? Why can't you take me instead?/i

Thumping heart in his throat, Sam set his beer on the table behind them and turned away from the news cast, to reach out a hand to Dean, laying it gently on his furrowed shoulder. The words left his mouth, before he could even think them up. "Because if God had taken you, I would have been alone today…" Words spiked with hurt and sorrow as Sam cast his eyes down, before bringing them back up to connect with Dean's vacant eyes, some emotions swirling in there, because of his words.

Swallowing, Sam continued, pulling at Dean's shoulder a little, "I'd be lost without you. My gangly body would have to ride your baby alone and I could get my ass kicked, since you save it so many times…" S wry smile carved into Sam's face as he tried to get Dean off the path of self-loathing and back into the clothes of his personality.

The beginning sparks of life dimmed in Dean's eyes as he searched Sam's. "But-"

"Shh," Sam hushed him, his brow furrowing as he pulled the shorter brother into his arms, for a warm hug. The feelings were alive in the air, taking their own forms of sorrow and pain, like icy needles stabbing through the both of them. Unable to get the feeling out of his system, Sam pulled back from Dean and furrowed his brows, his fingers ghosting across his brother's face.

For once, the taller one took action, gathering his heart in his hands and leaning forward to press a gentle heartwarming kiss to his brother's lips. When words couldn't work, actions had to make do.

Dean made a small noise, going to pull back before Sam grasped the back of his shirt softly, pushing his body forward as he kissed him softer, almost ghosts of touches across his lips. The warmth radiated between their kisses, their bodies and the pain leaked from their hearts so they could share it.

"For the hunter's who aren't here anymore…" Dean whispered, his eyes fluttering close as Sam kissed him deeper.

"And for us, who are graced with our lives and each other…" Sam finished for him and leaned in to kiss him again, as they grasped for each other, celebrating the life that they were given and coping through the pain of losing those hunters.