September 2nd
Dean was walking into the library from the bedroom hallway first thing in the morning when he thought he heard a little more noise than Sam's usual research called for. It sounded like a drawer opening and closing and a chair squeaking and scraping across the floor like Sam was hurrying out of it and back in again.
When Dean got to the library, though, Sam was in his chair, at his computer, looking like he hadn't moved in hours.
"What's going on?" Dean asked.
"Going on what?" Sam answered, not taking his eyes off of his laptop.
"Sounded like you were rearranging the place."
Sam shrugged and glanced up at Dean. "I had to get a book out of the drawer." He gestured to the monolith on the table near him. He added with a friendly snark, "Too much noise for you, Sleeping Beauty?"
Dean only grumbled a reply and turned to head to the kitchen for breakfast. But something caught his eyes. Or rather – didn't.
"Where's my computer? I left it on the table last night."
"I haven't seen it." Sam said. He looked over the table. "Did you leave it in the map room?"
"No." Dean took a few steps in that direction anyway, but it wasn't there. "You haven't seen it?"
"No."
Sam looked innocent, totally innocent. Totally, perfectly, innocent. Too innocent. So Dean shrugged like it didn't matter and faked a half turn away and saw Sam's eyes cut over to the cupboard along the wall to his right.
"Something you wanna tell me, Sammy?" Dean asked and Sam's face got that expression – jaw set in anger, mouth set in a slight pout – that he'd had since he was three whenever he couldn't figure out how Dean had figured him out. He sighed and retrieved Dean's laptop from the middle drawer of the cupboard.
"Here."
"'Here'?" Dean asked, when Sam took his chair again and didn't say anything else. "That's all I'm getting from you? 'Here'?"
"Yeah. 'Here'. What else do you want?"
"How about why you hid it in the first place?"
Sam swallowed and gestured and seemed to be trying to think of what to say. His expression lost the anger but not the pout.
"National Day Of." He said. Like that was the whole answer.
"What about it?"
"I just – I thought – today – maybe – we could – not – celebrate – it."
"We don't have to celebrate it." Dean said. The way Sam was stammering, the way he was looking at Dean like this was something terrible, worried Dean. "It's not like we celebrate it every day, anyway. Today's Labor Day. We can celebrate that. Or nothing. It doesn't matter."
Sam nodded.
"Yeah. Okay. Thanks."
Dean set his computer on the table and considered Sam who was staring at his computer screen again.
"So…" He said, dragging the word out. "What specific National Day Of are we not celebrating today?"
A loud sigh and a pretty hard scrub at his eyes preceded Sam's answer.
"National Beheading Day."
That answer surprised Dean. He was expecting National Clown Day, or National Happy Day, or National Use Spit to Wipe Something off Your Little Brother's Face in Public Day, or something that was patently guaranteed to annoy Sam. But this?
"Beheading?" Dean asked. "Who the hell – why the hell is this national beheading day? Who the hell got beheaded today? Marie Antoinette?"
"No." Sam said. He rested his head in his hand. "October 16th."
"Anne Boleyn?"
"May 19th."
Dean tried to think of some other names to suggest but that would only delay the answer to his real question.
"Why didn't you want to celebrate?"
"I didn't want – I thought – " Sam scrubbed his face and gestured to his computer. "I wanted to. I was looking for something we could hunt, something you could –" He bit off that sentence. He started again, slower. "Then I thought - I didn't want you to think - I was – "
While Sam stammered on, Dean sat back against the table next to him and folded his arms.
"Sammy?"
"You killed Benny to save me." Sam spat out then, like he was trying to get the words out as fast as he could. "You cut his head off. I didn't want you to think I was forgetting that, or belittling it. Because I'm not. I wouldn't."
"Okay." Dean said. Sounded like an honest and plausible answer. "So, why hide my computer?"
"I didn't want you to be reminded of having to kill Benny. I know you check first thing every day and I just – I thought that would remind you of Benny."
Dean didn't say anything. He didn't think about Benny a lot. There were a lot of things that Dean didn't think about a lot, basically because he'd trained himself how to not think about things. But sometimes the memories jumped up out of nowhere and hung on tight. And National Beheading Day would've been one of those times that Benny's death reignited in Dean's mind.
He stood up and clapped Sam on the shoulder, his thank you unspoken but wholehearted.
"All right. New day. From now on, we celebrate 'National Day of No National Day of…' whenever we feel like it. Deal?"
Sam smiled. Deep and dimpled and totally devoted to his awesome big brother.
"Yeah. Deal."
"Great. I'm going to get myself some breakfast."
"Okay."
Dean headed to the kitchen but stopped at the door that led to the stairs and looked back at his little brother whose shoulders seemed to lost six inches of stress. As far as Dean was concerned, every day was National Sammy Day.
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A/N repeat: Thank you to everyone who read my original story "Dead Spot" published in Red Fez. I'm the #1 read story of my issue. I beat out the nearest competition three times over. THANK YOU!