Story: May 2nd

AN: Ok, so my muse attacked me today with this idea, so I had to get it down. This is actually a scene that I wanted to put somewhere in the middle of another fanfic I'm working on, but now that it's written, it's too good not to post, so here it is! It hasn't been beta'd, so I do ask for your pardon on any grammatical errors or the like.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the story. ^^

Dean stood in the graveyard, staring at a blank stretch of ground. There wasn't anyone else there, probably hadn't been for years. The markers on the graves were old, and any close family was probably long since dead. This bone yard was a place for the dead, not the living. How fitting that was, because as Dean stared at that lumpy patch of ground, covered in equal parts by dead grass and overgrown weeds, he felt more dead than alive.

He thought he was over it. Well, no, not over it. He would never be over it. But he thought that he had at least moved successfully back into the world of the living. For months, Dean had felt like the walking dead, but slowly Lisa and Ben had pulled him back into the light. They had made him a part of their family. Though they hadn't been able to give his old life back to him, they had given him a new life, one that he was truly, honest to God content with.

But not today.

When he woke up that morning, he had felt strange, like there was something he was forgetting. Once glance at the calendar told him what that was. May 2nd. Today was May 2nd. He had made some excuse to Ben and Lisa and left in a hurry. He didn't even remember what he had told them. He just jumped in his truck and left.

Dean drove for about an hour before he realized where he was going. Now, he stood in that old bone yard outside of Lawrence, just staring at that same patch of ground. Years since anyone had come into that cemetery to visit loved one's tombstones, and now that someone was finally there, he was just staring at the ground. There was nothing there to mark it as special. In fact, there wasn't anything particularly special about it. It was just a place. But it was the last place Dean had seen his brother.

For the past twenty-seven years, he had seen his brother on May 2nd. Even when that meant driving all night with his dad just to get a glimpse of him while he was away at Standford, he had always seen Sammy on this day. Today, he realized more fully than he ever had before, that he wasn't ever going to see his brother again.

At least, he wouldn't see him alive. He still had his memories, which was perhaps the worse thing about the whole situation. Because as many memories he had of his brother happy, laughing at some private joke between the two of them, the only images he had been able to recall for almost a year now were the look on Sam's face as he stood at the edge of the pit and those seconds following that, seconds that had seemed like an eternity as Sam fell into that pit.

Dean felt the cold damp on his face of a tear running down his cheek, but he didn't move to brush it away. He couldn't move. Being here again, had been a mistake. He had hoped for some sort of closure, but there wasn't any, and there never would be. His brother was dead, and now, standing at the place where it had started and ended, the pain was hitting him as if the past year hadn't happened at all, as if Sam had only just disappeared beneath that molted grass.

Suddenly, Dean found himself on his knees, the weight of this loss too much to stand under. The single tear that had run down his cheek had become a flood, and his chest shook with the ache of Sam's absence. He didn't fight the sobs, couldn't fight them. He had been holding this in for a year now, and he couldn't do it anymore, didn't want to be strong anymore.

He didn't know how long he sat there. When the tears had finally stopped, the silent shaking sobs continued, mirroring the throbbing ache in his heart. By the time those too subsided, the sun was already beginning to dip towards the horizon.

Slowly, Dean stood, his legs protesting strongly, cramped from being in one position for nearly half a day. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his jacket, scraping away the salty crust of dried tears from his cheeks, and took a deep steadying breath. The pain wasn't gone, not by a long shot, but he was ready to move on again.

Dean thought of Lisa and Ben. By now, Lisa would be starting dinner, wondering why Dean wasn't home from work yet. Even if he started driving home now, he wouldn't get back until late. And with the way he had been acting that morning, she was sure to be worried. Dean felt bad that he may have worried them with his actions, but he didn't regret coming here. Sure, he could live a normal, apple pie life, but he would never forget his brother, never forget that he couldn't save him. And once a year, he would come back and serve his penance.

Dean pulled a small package out of his pocket. It had taken him a long time to track this down, and it had been sitting in the glove box of his truck ever since. Now, he laid the small package on the ground and whispered, "Happy birthday, Sammy."

Dean walked back to the truck, got inside, and began his long drive home to the only family he had now.

As the edge of the sun dipped below the horizon and the roar of the truck's engine faded from the cemetery grounds, a tall figure stepped out from behind a monument. He walked over to that rough patch of ground and picked up the package, pulling the brown paper back with a reverence that such a package would rarely appear to deserve. A gold medallion tumbled out into the man's hand. He stared for a moment.

"Thanks, Dean."

-Fin.

AN: So, what do you think? (Reviews are a good method to use for answering this question. *hint*hint*hint*) If you like it, come back and see my longer fanfic that this will eventually become a part of. ^.^

Also, I do actually have a reason for the tall, dark, and handsome "stranger" being there at the end, and if I get enough reviews, favs, etc. to let me know people are actually reading this story and wanting to hear more, I'll post his POV as my next fanfic project.