Then next year, and about seven school later, they were in a different state with different faces, again, and Sam's second grade class was doing Mother's Day cards. Sam calmly raised his hand when it was announced. Mr. Wells called on Sam seeing his hand up.
"I don't have a mom; can I make one for my older sister instead?" He asked, "That's what I did last year."
"Sure," Mr. Wells said with an excited wave of his hand, if he had hair it would've blown like in the wind with how fast his arm moved by his head. Sam smiled.
"How come you don't have a mom?" The girl that sat on the right side of Sam asked.
"She died before I can remember," Sam said flatly.
"How old is your sister?" Mr. Wells asked.
"She turned 11 just before I turned 7," Sam answered, "But she takes care of me when Dad goes out of town for work, and she helps me with my homework."
"Awe, that's sweet," The girl to his right said, "I wish my older brother would even talk to me."
"Anyways, guys," Mr. Wells caught the classes attention again, "We can make cards with the construction paper, and / or if you want I have pipe cleaners and tissue paper you can make some flowers."
The scrapping of chairs and zipping of book bags to grab colored pencils and markers filled the room. Sam knew exactly what he wanted to make, so he grabbed some pipe cleaners and the tissue paper he needed then headed back to his seat to start working on it.
"Hey, Sam," The girl to his right called, he felt bad that he didn't remember her name. They moved around so much the stopped bothering to learn everyone's names.
"Yeah?" He answered looking at her, then looking at her desk to see if he could find a piece of paper or something that had her name written on it.
"You really don't remember your mom at all?" She asked.
"No, Becca, I don't," He said gently, saying her name, mostly as a victory for himself for spotting it on her pencil box, "I was only a baby, six months old I think."
"Not even a year?" Becca asked, her eyes widening a little, Sam shock his head no.
"I don't even know what she looks like, my sister is the closest thing I've got."
As Sam worked he couldn't help but think about his mother, he hadn't even been shown a picture of her, and John never talked about her. Maybe Deanna would, but he'd have to wait for John to leave again so it was just the two of them.
"Hey Sammy," Deanna greeted when he walked back into the motel. Her voice was very scratchy and it sounded like it hurt her to talk. John looked up from his spot sitting on the side of her bed. He stood up to go make the oatmeal Deanna had requested, lately it's been the only thing she can stomach without it coming right back up.
"Hey, sissy," Sam replied closing the door behind him and dropping his bag by the other bed. He usually shares a bed with his sister, but when she started to get sick two days ago john decided he didn't need two sick kids and had Sammy sleeping in the other bed with him so neither of them would catch the nasty clod Deanna had. "I made you something at school today." He walked over and knelt down by her bed side and presented her with the miniature flower bouquet he'd made with pipe cleaners and tissue paper. The stems of the flowers were all green, and four of the flowers were purple, Deanna's favorite color, and the one in the middle of the four was a little taller and was yellow. One additional pipe cleaner that was blue was tied around the stems in a bow to hold them together.
Deanna reached a hand out from under the covers to take the little bouquet and examine it. Sam made a face seeing that she was shaking with how cold she was. Deanna smiled as best she could.
"Thank you, Sammy," She whispered and gently touched one of the corners of the tissue paper to straighten it out a little. "It's beautiful."
"I hope you get better soon," Sam said and brushed some hair out of her face like he saw John do a couple of times last night after she'd thrown up. It seemed to make her relax then so Sam hoped it would do the same now. Deanna closed her eyes and smiled at her little brother.
"Me too, baby boy," She replied, "being sick sucks." She opened her eyes as John made his way back across the room with the bowl of oatmeal. Deanna sat up and Sam stood to help her adjust the pillows behind her and one of the flatter one she put on her lap so the hot bowl wouldn't burn her lap or hand.
"Here, princess," John said and carefully set the bowl on the pillow in front of her, he kept a hand on it to make sure it didn't slide off until Deanna grabbed it herself.
"Thanks, Dad," She said in the same hoarse voice she'd greeted Sam with when he came home, "Look what Sam made me," She held up the little bouquet to show it off.
"That's nice," John said glancing at it, only half being honest, he was too preoccupied with making sure Deanna was getting better. Deanna smiled a little and gently placed it on the table next to the bed, "Eat up, princess. You need your strength back." Deanna nodded and began to slowly eat the oatmeal. Although it was the only thing she could eat as of late, she still couldn't eat it too fast or else she'd still end up throwing it up. John stayed sitting on the side of her bed until he saw he take a bite. He stood and ran a hand over her head for a moment before stepping back.
"I'm going to run out and get some medicine for your stomach so maybe you can eat more that oatmeal, OK?"
"OK," Deanna said and took another small bite. John grabbed his wallet and keys off the table in the little kitchenette and headed out, making sure to lock the door behind him. Sam crossed the room to look out the window, once John had started to back out of his parking spot Sam went back over to Deanna and carefully crawled up on the bed to sit next to her.
"Hey, sissy?" He asked.
"Hmm?" She asked in a noise instead of actual words as she had another bite of food in her mouth.
"Wh-" He started but looked down, making Deanna look up to him in worry.
"Sammy, what's wrong?" She asked setting her bowl on the table then turning to face him. Sam took a breath.
"I was just wondering … about mom." Deanna's shoulders fell a little. She looked down for a second.
"Can you pass me my back-pack?" She asked and point to the foot of the bed where she had it resting. Sam grabbed it and handed it to her, she pull a very thin binder out of the big pocket and handed it to Sam. She placed her back-pack back on the floor next to the table and gestured for Sam to open the deep-blue binder.
There were plastic sheet protectors inside that had pictures in them. There weren't very many and some of them looked like they were burned around the edges, Sam recognized John in a few of them. His eyes stayed on one picture of John in a suit kissing the cheek of a blond woman in a pretty white dress.
"That's mom," Deanna said pointing at the woman in the picture. "Her name was Mary Winchester, and she was the most beautiful and kind women ever."
"Dad looks so happy with her," Sam commented looking at the other two wedding pictures that survived.
"They were very happy together," Deanna smiled, obviously remembering when Mary was alive. Sam flipped the page and saw a picture of Mary with a big rounded belly, and in sharpie written on the corner it read '7 months.'
"That's mom when she was pregnant with me," Deanna pointed out, then flipped to the next page where there was another picture of Mary with a swollen belly but with little Deanna resting her hand and head gently on her mommy's belly, "And that's a picture from when she was pregnant with you. This one is the day they came home with you, and I got to hold you for the first time. That's me, you, and Dad, and you can see mom with the camera in the mirror behind us." She kept pointing to the pictures and explaining them. There weren't very many; only three wedding photos, the one picture of Mary pregnant with Deanna, the one of Mary pregnant with Sam, a couple of family photos when Sam was an itty-bitty little thing, and a couple of the two siblings.
"I wish I could remember her," Sam spoke. Deanna smiled sadly at him before gently rubbing his back.
"I know, baby boy," Deanna whispered, just barely loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam stared at the photos a little longer before handing the binder back to Deanna to put away. Sam took her now empty oatmeal bowl to put it in the sink while she slid the binder back into her book-bag.
"Get some sleep, Deanna," Sam told her as he began to pull out his homework.
"Don't tell me what to do, Sammy," Deanna laughed a little but still laid back down and pulled the covers up to her chin. Sam smiled and shook his head at her.
Two weeks later and whatever business John had in town was finally taken care of, so the three where packing-up to head off again. As Sam and Deanna crawled into the car, John noticed she still held tight to the little bouquet Sam had given her. He walked around to the trunk of the Impala and pulled out a pink shoebox that Deanna's boots had come in. Her old tennis shoes were so worn there was almost a hole in the bottom of them, so John had taken her to get new shoes once she got over her cold. She ended up talking her dad into getting three pairs for her, black hiking boots, black and white converse, and a pair of dark purple slip-ons with little bows on the toe.
"Here, princess," John said handing her the empty shoebox, "So it doesn't get messed up." Deanna smiled and took the shoebox and gently placed the tissue paper flowers inside it. John shut the car door and climbed into the driver seat, shutting his own door behind him he glanced back at his children, "Seatbelts?"
"Check," Both Deanna and Sam said at the same time. John nodded and started the car.