So, even though it's not even November and I don't live in America, I was re-watching Dark Side of the Moon yesterday and was struck by inspiration that I knew couldn't wait until the actual holiday. So, this is just a small, hopefully heart warming tale of family and friendship. Nothing AU as far as I'm aware (except possibly the time period...). Enjoy ^_^
The scene that greeted Dean as he exited his room and headed into the library was that of a completely zonked out little brother, cheek pressed against the pages of an open book, his hand loosely curled around the next page as though, even in sleep, he planned on continuing reading.
Dean sighed at the sight. The first trial had seriously affected Sam, that much was clear, and it only made Dean dread what the other two were going to do to him. Sam's skin was a tad paler than usual and it no longer had the healthy glow of the week before, it was clear that he had lost a bit of weight from a lack of appetite and overall his stamina seemed low.
Which is why he was going to get a full on telling-off for even attempting to pull an all-nighter studying the said trials.
Sighing again, Dean decided to let Sam wake up on his own accord and went into the kitchen, hoping to prepare some food for himself and leave enough for Sam to heat up later; the kid needed to eat.
He passed the fridge and his eyes wandered to the calendar magnet stuck to the door. To his surprise, he realised that today was Thanksgiving. He barely paid any attention to dates lately, considering that very few mattered anymore, which included his own birthday. He always kept an eye out in May, of course, for Sammy's and he knew that his brother did the same; even though Dean thought it pointless to celebrate his own birth, he knew it meant something to Sam.
Thanksgiving...As he mulled the date over in his mind, absently calculating how many eggs he would need for the omelette he was planning, something Sam had said years ago came back to him in regards to the holiday.
It was my first real Thanksgiving.
What are you talking about? We had Thanksgiving every year.
We had a bucket of Extra Crispy and Dad passed out on the couch.
Zachariah making his presence known had prevented Dean from pondering on the comment made in Heaven, and even after he was able to think about it he had only been angry that Sam's 'Heaven memories' didn't involve his own family. Now, of course, he understood so much better.
"Well," He murmured to himself, putting the eggs back and checking the clock. "Let's give you a proper Thanksgiving, then."
The slam of a door woke Sam rather abruptly, peeling his skin off the page of the book he had been reading before his tired eyes had given up on him. Looking around and grabbing the gun from the table, Sam spotted that it was his brother who had caused the loud noise.
"Jesus." Dean muttered, multiple shopping bags in hand, as he tried to balance them and lock the door of the bunker. "Sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to slam that."
Bewildered at why Dean had gone shopping at – he looked at his watch – 7:30am, he got up to help his brother with the shopping. "So what's all this for?"
Dean gave him a rare grin that he hadn't seen on his brother's face for far too long. "Wait and see."
Sam raised his eyebrows, wondering what on earth Dean was up to now, but decided to do as he said and helped take the bags inside. However, when he went to check inside and also assist in unpacking, Dean smacked his hand away.
"Uh-uh. Go and continue your nerdy researching, little brother."
"What? Why?"
All he got in response was another cheeky smile, "Patience, Sam, you'll figure out soon enough."
Sighing in defeat, Sam headed back to the table in the library. As his eyes settled on the heading at the top of the page that read THE LOST SCRIPTURES, he realised that despite how important the research was, three and a half hours of sleep simply were not enough. Yes, he had survived on less sleep and done things far more tiring than research before, but since that first trial his energy levels had just plummeted.
"Actually, Dean, I'm gonna go lie down for a bit." He called in the direction of the kitchen.
Dean poked his head around the corner, a slight frown on his face. "You feelin' okay? What time did you finally crash last night?"
Sam didn't really want to go into detail about how he felt, so he shrugged in answer to the first question, then said, "I think it was around 4-ish."
He braced himself for the pissed off older brother stare and was not disappointed. Dean's frown instantly increased, his eyes hardened while at the same time adopting a pitying, disapproving look and he stepped fully out of the kitchen and closer to Sam. When Sam was young, he had mistaken the clues as Dean being angry at him, but he had long since learned that it was only because he cared and was worried.
Sometimes it was annoying.
Other times, it was all Sam needed.
"Sammy."
Yep, thought Sam, the nickname. The nickname he had given up trying to stop because, in reality, he loved it. The knowledge of how much his brother loved him was always one of comfort, even though Sam knew he never deserved such care.
"Go to bed. Now. You're still weak from that trial, so unless you're going to acknowledge that and start taking proper care of yourself, I will not hesitate to knock you out every night at 11pm sharp."
Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes at the nonexistent threat. "Going."
He felt Dean's eyes on him as he trudged through the corridors to his room and, still fully dressed, crawled under the covers. He would have a shower and change when he woke up.
Dean kept the kitchen door shut as the meal neared its completion. It was 10:45 and Sammy was still out of it. Poor kid. Dean knew that the smell would drift through the bunker to his room and so wanted to delay waking his brother up for as long as necessary. He had even delayed the cooking process for a couple of hours, continuing Sam's research and coming up with squat.
Hearing the timer ding, Dean dug the turkey out of the oven, spooned the mashed potatoes into a bowl, used some tongs to fish several cobs of corn out of the pot of boiling water sitting on the stove, and finally poured the rich gravy into a tureen. Not that Dean knew what a tureen was, of course, because it had definitely not been something he learned to impress a rich chick when he was fifteen.
Then he chanced opening the door so he could slip out, clear off the table in the library and then set it. He was careful to keep the books that Sam had been studying open as he set them on shelves or benches, having learned from experience how much rage simply closing a book without a bookmark could induce. And don't even start on what happened the time Dean had actually dog-eared a page when told there was no bookmark. Let's just say that the following morning all of Dean's manly, black socks were replaced with Disney Princess themed ones.
Within about ten minutes the table was emptied, and then the books had been replaced with the dishes and plates. By then, the smell had woken Sam and Dean looked up with a smile to see his big little brother, rubbing his eyes like a five-year old, following his nose.
Upon seeing what was on the table, his eyes turned as huge as the plates.
"Dean...what's this?" He asked.
Smiling even more, Dean answered, "It's Thanksgiving, Sammy. I figured it was about time you and me shared a proper one."
He wondered if Sam remembered what he had said in Heaven. As he really looked into his brother's eyes, Dean knew that he did.
Sam was breathing slightly heavily, and his eyes were shimmering just a bit too much. He swallowed. "Thanks, Dean."
Dean had a feeling if he said anything more than that, Sam wouldn't be able to hold himself together anymore, so he just sat down and indicated the chair opposite him.
"Hungry?"
Dean fixed his gaze on the food as he served himself to give Sam a moment to compose himself.
"Actually, yeah." Sam answered. "This looks great. But isn't it traditional to wait till dinner?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "It's also traditional to be living in a house rather than a secret society's underground bunker. C'mon, Sam, when do we ever do traditional?"
That got a chuckle, and Sam sat down.
From the top of the stairs, invisible, Castiel watched the two brothers, smiling down at them. If anyone deserved to enjoy this human holiday, it was them. Cas wondered for a moment if he should reveal himself and join in – after all, both brothers had clearly forgiven him, a fact which he still found hard to comprehend, and made it clear that he was family – but he decided against it. They needed this alone time. Until...
"Come and take a seat, Cas. I don't care whether angels eat or not, you're going to enjoy this with us."
Turning visible once again, Castiel stared down at Dean in shock. How...?
Grinning, Dean pointed at a computer panel that was fixed into the wall opposite, showing a map of the bunker and every life-form in it. Sam and Dean were red dots, while Castiel spotted himself as a blue dot.
"Blue means angel." Dean explained. "And I knew it wasn't anyone else."
So Castiel joined the Winchesters with their meal, and later got roped into a strange and vulgar game called Cards Against Humanity. Even he could understand how offensive some of the cards were, but even he couldn't help but laugh.
And for a moment, everything was right.
I had to add Cas in at the end there :) Love the guy too much. Also, if you don't know what Cards Against Humanity is, go and sit in a corner and look it up. It is the best. Freaking. Game. Ever. Best played when at least slightly inebriated, although as long as you've got a good sense of humour it works anyway :) Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought if you've got a moment to spare.