One shot. Sam's thoughts mear days away from the end of Dean's deal.
Meaningful
Sam has good memories of when he was young. One of the earliest memories he has is just a flash of when he was around two and a half years old. He remembers seeing Dean in front of him. His brother's green eyes bright and a large smile plastered on his still-round face. He can see a younger Bobby grinning behind him.
"Come on Sammy, count to ten again."
"Won... two... thwee... fouw... five... six... sevan... ite... nwine... twen."
"Your smart Sam."
"Thank woo, Dean." Somehow Dean's smile seemed to get larger.
"Your welcome, Sammy."
There's another one when he was about four. Dean's sitting across from him, helping him with a little coloring book. They're in some motel by themselves.
"Look, look, Dean!" Sam points to the random colored scribbles that run across his page that he tried to keep inside the lines.
"Good job Sam. You like mine?" Dean managed to keep most of his coloring inside the lines.
"Yeah, yours looks really nice."
"Thanks, Sam."
"Your welcome Dean."
Sam's six, him and Dean are up late watching scary movies. Sam's sitting, trying to sink deeper into the cushions behind him as the eery music begins. Dean isn't afraid, much, he's seen and heard about what his dad hunts.
Sam sees Dean notice him shaking behind him as the killer jumps out of no where. Dean reaches forward to turn the television off.
"Want to go to bed Sam?" Sam didn't want to seem like a scary-cat.
"No, can we watch the rest of the movie?" Sam knows that Dean knows what's going on, though he doesn't acknowledge it.
"Nah, Sammy. It's getting late and Dad doesn't want to stay up all night."
"I guess so." Dean goes to turn the light off and lay down in his bed. Sam stays were he is. His heart is still pounding in his chest from the fright and he swears he hears noises. "Um, Dean, can I sleep in your bed for tonight."
"Yeah course Sammy." Sam happily bounces to Dean's bed and under the covers.
"Thanks Dean."
"No problem Sammy."
There's one when Sam's eight and he has a nightmare. There's something coming after him, trying to get him.
"Dean!" His brother is leaning over him, a worried look on his face.
"You okay Sam?"
"Yeah, it was just a nightmare."
Sam's ten and he can't figure out a homework problem.
"Hey Dean can you help me with this?"
He's eleven and trips, cutting his hand up.
"Dean I'm bleeding."
Now he's twelve and some of the kids picked on him at school.
"Dean what do you do when kids bother you?"
Sam's thirteen and sitting with Deana and Bobby around a television.
"Ready for the movie Dean?"
Sam's fourteen and a girl asked him out.
"Dean there's this girl..."
He's fifteen years old and he's angry at his dad, again.
"Do you really believe all of this crap Dean?"
Now Sam's sixteen. Nervously he walks up to his brother who's standing next to his 67 Impala.
"So can I give her a spin Dean?"
Sam's seventeen and just recieved his acceptence letter to Stanford.
"Um, Dean..."
When his father came back, they got into the mother of all their arguements. Sam turned, posessions in hand and walked towards the out of the door. Dean came out following him.
"Hey Sam what are you doing?"
"I can't put of with all his crap Dean. I can't stay with him anymore."
"So your just going to run away Sammy?"
"I'm not running away Dean. I'm going to college. I just want a normal life."
"Your leaving then, huh?"
"Yeah, I am." Sam saw the look that flashed across his brother's face. The underlying question. 'Your leaving me then, huh? ' He sighed. "I'm sorry Dean."
He's twenty-one and it's been about a whole year since he last talked to his brother. Dean must have been very angry at him. They had never gone this long without talking to each other. He's staring at the cell phone in front of him. Sam picks it up and looks onto the programed numbers. He contiplated whether or not to call him.
"Dean...," he whispered.
Sam's twenty two. He was pinned on the floor by some unknown assailent. The person's head lowers into the light.
"Dean?"
Sam opens his eyes to bring himself back to the present. He was aware of what was normal and what was abnormal, he had been trying to run from that his entire life.
Most kids when they're growing up and needed someone, it their mom or dad that they called for. When they're scared and wanted help it was their parents that were their life line. But for Sam it had been his older brother. It was Dean that he cried for, it was Dean that had always been there for him. For most young boys they worshipped the ground that their father walked on but Sam had Dean.
They knew things about each other that they didn't know about themselves. They were as close as two people could be and Sam didn't want it to be any other way. Sam looked over at his brother asleep in the bed.
It was going to be Sam's birthday soon and he knew that was when Dean's year was up. They hadn't been able to do anything about it and now Dean was going to die.
"Goodnight Dean. I love you. You were the best big brother," Sam whispered into the night. He was curled up on his bed dreading the hours that past.
A single tear dropped form Sam's cheek.
"Dean," he cried.
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