It's a beautiful Sunday morning when Jess casually asks Sam if he has any favourite memories.
He only has to think for a minute before he has an answer, but he holds his tongue anyways, his mouth turning to sandpaper and his breath hitching in his throat.
He wants to talk about that night, mid-august, when he was young and naive and he still held dreams in his mind; when he was still a kid who didn't have to be afraid of the dark, when Dean had become more than his brother, his best-friend and his world. John had been on a hunt that night, and Dean had promised little Sammy that they would watch the meteor shower together in the desolate motel parking lot.
He had dragged one of the raggedy comforters from his bed outside, accidently pulling it through a puddle neither of them had noticed. Sam didn't care. He gratefully wrapped it around his shoulders and giggled delightfully when Dean did the same, snuggling closer into his big brother's side.
They tilted their heads back so far to see the sky that their necks hurt the next morning. It was entirely worth it, as Sammy later remarked, to see the world above them splattered with the fiery trails and sparks the meteors left behind as they hurtled to the ground. It was better than he could have ever imagined, and seeing it all with his brother somehow made it so much more beautiful.
They had stayed like that all night, or at least until Sam fell asleep, his head lolled to the side and resting on Dean's shoulder. He had been carried to his bed that night, the elder Winchester trying to be extra gentle as not to stir his precious baby brother, tucking the moth-eaten motel blanket loosely around his small form as he knew Sam preferred.
Those days had been some of the best he could remember, but for some reason he felt that he wasn't allowed to share them. They felt too precious to be put into words, and there was an intimacy between him and his brother back then that seemed to trap those memories between them. Sam wasn't ready to allow anyone else into the clouded world of his childhood, wasn't ready to let go of the only things he had to himself.
Instead, he tells Jessica what he thinks she wants to hear.
"My favourite memories are any with you," He whispers, kissing the top of her head gently. She laughs contently, and that makes him feel even guiltier that the only thing he can think of is his brother as he pulls her closer.