Remembering – Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Nothing 'Supernatural' belongs to me. I've just borrowed and not for profit.

Rating: Tame

Summary: What is worth remembering about the life you have led so far?

Author's Note: I hope those who take the time to read this like it. Thank you to WinchestersGirl, Rozzy07, and Tezpin for their kind comments on chapter one.

And so on we go to this chapter. This is the second chapter of four. This chapter is more directly involved with more 'personal' interaction with Sam. It could be set partially during 'Faith' but could be another time unspecified.

I continue to be grateful for reviews and constructive comments – it's good to know if I'm on the right track. Thank you for taking the time to read my scribblings.


Chapter Two

Sam has been in the trunk of the Impala often enough to know just about everything that's in there and where each item is stored and how Dean is fanatical about keeping everything exactly so. It had always amazed him that Dean, the same Deanwho stuffed clothes haphazardly into his bag with no thought to flat or crease free, could be so obsessive about the trunk of his car. Until the day Dean sent him in a hurry to find the book with just the right Latin exorcism in it and just the right dagger for the occasion. Sam had grabbed both without a thought. It was later that he realised how instinctual it had been; he had known where they were, he hadn't needed to waste time looking. He was grateful that it had been Dean's turn to sort the trunk last because he'd just never found the enthusiasm to be quite as thorough as his brother. He understood the point now and could forgive Dean this particular obsession; he still needed to work on the music though.

Sam knew what was in the trunk; that meant he knew about Dean's box. He had known for ages really. He'd dislodged it one day when sorting the trunk but had carefully put it back,clearly it was something Dean wanted kept private but Sam was curious nonetheless. Often tempted, he resisted until…

Until Dean was in hospital, dying. Sam thought why not, maybe there'd be some more contacts – he'd found some going through Dean's journal. It had made difficult reading and he had skipped through as much as possible, feeling he was intruding – it wasn't like Dad's journal which had become a record of who, where and what. Dean's journal was the real Dean. Sam had never realised how much of a façade Dean's life was, how vulnerable his brother was underneath the brash exterior. So that night, he'd taken the box into the motel room and opened it, wondering what he'd find inside.

He'd been surprised to find his and Dean's birth certificates. It was as if Dean was saying no matter what we've said or done, I still know who we really are. Pictures; him, mum, Dean, dad, even their grandparents. Dean saying this is what we were, where we came from. Paintings; he recognised them. He had brought them home, proud, as presents for his Dad and his brother. Dad had always said 'Thank you, Sammy' and put them to one side, but Dean had always put them up on the fridge, the door, the bedroom wall and made a fuss. Sam smiled at the memory. He might be a jerk, but he'd been a good brother too.

The home-made birthday cards, he never realised Dean had kept them. He remembered the times when that had been almost the only thing that had marked a birthday, years when in Dean's words, 'Dad just can't do the birthday right now, Sammy; but don't worry, we'll do it – just you and me.' He'd always made sure Sam had a card, a cake (sometimes just a cupcake) and something as a present. He thought fondly of the year when, with Dad away and money running short, Dean had given him a jar of liquid and a twisted loop of metal. He remembered the confusion he'd felt until Dean had shown him how to dip the loop in the mixture, bring it out and blow gently to get a stream of bubbles. A good memory, he thought. That's what this box is for: the good memories.

Sam smiled, pleased that Dean had kept these reminders of the good things. He'd almost forgotten but this had brought back those good memories. It hurt more though knowing Dean was lying in hospital dying. He put the school reports back in the box and fingered the envelope. Should he open it? Dean wasn't dead yet, would there be information that could keep him alive. Sam thought not, it was more likely instructions for what he wanted doing after… His thought went back to the conversation he'd had with Dean earlier in the day. He'd been talking about options and Dean had said,' Burial or cremation?' He shuddered, closed his eyes briefly, he didn't want to think about that now. He put the envelope back in the box and closed it. He didn't have time to waste on memories, good or bad. He had to concentrate on finding an answer. Dean had to live.


Author's Note: next chapter is from John's point of view - now posted.