A/N: Takes place some time sfter scene 1, but not necessarily connected. Thanks to my LLS for the super fast beta!!:)

Still don't own 'em.

Scenes From an American Back Road, Part Two: Chick Flick Moment Number 137

It continued to be a mystery to him, how these moments, which he profusely swore were against the very fiber of his being, kept popping up at the oddest of times. He would even go so far as to plan not to have the conversation, think ahead for pre-made topics of distraction. The manlier, the better. He was a Winchester, after all, and they simply did not do touchy-feely. Beer, women, and guns. Those were the subjects of hunters. At least that's how it had been since the fire, and that was far too long ago to think about without crossing into the aforementioned dangerous territory of "emotion". Seeing as how he was the only one left who could even remember such times, the conundrum that was his younger brother persisted to baffle him. How is it that someone who never had a mother, who was raised by a marine-turned-ghostbuster and a velvety-smooth badass hunter such as himself, who had never had an "I love you." (in the form of actual words) in his life, could turn out to be such a…chick?

Now don't get me wrong, Sam was good. He knew his stuff, had Dean's back 100, and could handle an exorcism like nobody's business. During the hunt, Sam's game face was just as stoically focused as his own. But after…that's when he got weird. Always wanting to explore the feelings. Seriously sucked out loud, especially when said feelings were currently being repressed into oblivion. Unhealthy? Yes. But hey, exactly which part of the Food-So-Greasy-the-Paper's-See-through, Get Shot at While Tracking Spawn of the Demon Who Killed Your Mother, Hustle Pool in the Seediest Possible Bar Lifestyle was healthy? Thank you very much. The point is, for someone who enjoyed "quiet time" as much as a threesome on a bed of twenties, the guy sure didn't know when to shut up.

"Hey, Dean," started Sam after a particularly gruesome hunt involving a nasty vengeful spirit, underline vengeful. He had that look in his eyes, the one that brought women to their knees and older brothers to poetry readings and crap like that.

Hoping to forestall the inevitable, he flipped the radio on and pretended not to hear. A brilliant plan, if it weren't for that pesky college learning.

"Dean." Sam said louder, turning the radio off. Annoying little bitch.

"What? I was listening to that!" responded Dean with a glare. Dude just touched his car. If it had been anyone else, they would have lost a hand.

"No you weren't. You just turned it on like, two seconds ago." said Sam, rolling his eyes. Another annoying habit. Unfortunately, he wasn't finished, "I wanted to ask you something."

This close to reaching for the radio again, Dean sighed. Maybe he just wanted to ask about the Impala's engine or if he wanted to hit a couple bars tonight. Yeah, that was it. A guy can hope, right?

"What, Sam? This better be important. I liked that song."

Ignoring that last comment, he started again, "You think they'll remember this? The kids, I mean. The spirit terrorizing their parents…what it did to their dog?" Oh God. Speaking of kicked puppies, Sammy here looked like the definition of pitiful. Of course, the dog in question wasn't so much kicked, as thrown from the second story window into a tree…yeah. Vengeful spirits'll do that.

"I don't know, Sam. They were pretty young. Maybe they will, maybe they won't. Not much we can do about it. At least they still have their parents, and their lives. It could have been worse." said Dean with a glance toward the grave they had just finished desecrating. It was true. They had gotten off lucky. With the amount of damage that thing did to the house, it was a miracle any of them got out alive. 'Maybe that worked.' thought Dean. 'State the facts, give it a good spin. Keep the brood to a minimum.'

Dammit.

"Well, they're around the same age as you were when Mom died." stated Sam, as if it were relevant. "And you remember that night. At least parts of it, right?"

Didn't they already have this conversation? "Yeah, Sam, but that was different." 'Please, please, please let him drop it!' thought Dean. Alas, no.

"How? Supernatural being traumatizes children and family. The only difference is—"

"Nobody died. Except Underdog there, but hey, crap happens." interrupted Dean. The problem was, he had just brought the subject dangerously close to his own "trauma", not something he wanted to discuss at the moment.

Sam was quiet for a minute. And then another. Did he really care that much about the damn dog? Hating broody Sam more than 20 questions Sam, Dean added, "I'm sure they'll get another dog. It's not like it was gonna live forever anyway."

Still not responding, Dean was getting annoyed, and a little worried. He was about to voice his feelings (in an impressive string of insults, no doubt) when Sam spoke suddenly,

"What's the first thing you remember?"

"Come again?"

"The first thing, like…your earliest memory?"

'What the hell?' thought Dean, and then said, "Dude, what the hell?"

Sam laughed a little at the expression of confusion etched across Dean's handsome features, "Just wonderin'"

"Uhh…ok." said Dean slowly, staring at his brother as if he had just decided evening gowns were practical hunting attire. "What does this have to do with anything, again?"

Sam appeared to be thinking for a moment, and then, "Just answer the question. I wanna see something."

Trying to figure out how this had anything to do with anything, and simultaneously pondering the fact that Sam seemed to be roping him into yet another sharing and caring session, Dean pushed the other two problems aside and thought about the question. His earliest memory… The first thing that popped into his mind was, as expected, the fire.

Knowing that that couldn't be, or it would mean he couldn't remember his mother, he reached farther back.

He was in the Impala, the backseat. Dad was there, and Mom was…Mom had already left. "When are we gonna see Mommy?" he had asked, probably for the seventh time in the last ten minutes.

"Soon, Dean-o." came the deep and excited reply of his father. He missed that voice, the assurance and safety it held… "We're gonna see your new brother too."

"Is he nice?" A fair question. Didn't want a bitchy little ass-hat for a brother.

Dad chuckled, and Dean stopped for a moment to reflect on the fact that Dad had freakin' chuckled. 'Man, Sammy, if only you knew him back then…' thought Dean wistfully.

"You never know, kiddo. Probably depends on how nice you are to him." said Dad with a smile. "You are the big brother now. A lot's riding on your shoulders."

Hell yeah, a lot was on his shoulders. Wouldn't have it any other way, either.

"I know, Dad," came Dean's exasperated four year-old voice, "You and Mommy told me about a hundred bagillion times." He held up ten fingers for emphasis.

"That many, huh? Well…I guess you'll know all about it then." said Dad with a smile that crinkled his eyes. "Come on, we're here."

Some time later, felt like years, they were on their way down a hallway with a million doors that all looked the same, when Dean stopped and pulled on his father's hand.

"What's up, Dean?" asked Dad, eager to see his wife and baby boy.

"What if…" started Dean, and then very fast, "What if the new baby doesn't like me, and I try really hard and am nice to him and play with him and teach him all the stuff I'm s'posed to and don't hit him hard or anything like that and he still doesn't like me?" Dean then became very interested with his shoelaces.

John was silent for a second, then bent down to be eye to eye with his eldest, "Don't worry about it, son. If you do half the things you just said, this kid is gonna have the best big brother on the planet. No way he'll not like you. In fact, he'll do one better. He'll love you no matter what you do. Know why?"

A little head shook, and John smiled. Dean nearly mouthed the words that came next from his father's mouth, but he was vaguely aware that Sam was still waiting for a reply in real time, and thought it best to move this little reminiscence-fest along.

"Because Dean, family isn't replaceable. When you walk into that room, and you see him for the first time, you're gonna understand it. You two have more in common than anyone in the world, right off the bat. He's your little brother, yours alone. And you're the only big brother he has to look up to. At the end of the day, you two will always have each other. Nothing else matters."

Dean smiled, looked at his Dad and said, "Okay! Can we see him now?"

John laughed again and replied, scooping Dean up, "Come on."

They walked the rest of the way down the hall, into a room with some machines and stuff and, more importantly, his mother.

"Mommy!" squealed Dean - wait, not squealed. Called. - "Where is he?" Dean looked around the room as if expecting his little brother to come marching out of a closet, not noticing the tiny bundle in his mother's arms.

"Shh, not so loud, baby." said Mary in a voice that made Dean ache. "Sammy's sleeping."

Dean, finally seeing the mass of blanketed pinkness that was his brother, said in a valiant attempt at a whisper, "Sammy?"

"Or Sam," offered John, moving around to sit on the side of Mary's bed. "Short for Samuel."

"Sammy." announced Dean, as if he had just christened the kid. Truth is, if his mother had called Sam 'Kumquat', he would have too. That's just the way it is.

"You wanna try holding him, buddy?" asked Mom, with one of those smiles he hadn't seen in so long. "You just have to be careful, Daddy will show you how."

Did he want to hold him? Hell yeah, he wanted to hold him! Not that he'd ever tell Sam that, of course. "Yes!"

Dean remembered Dad taking Sam from Mom and telling him to sit in the chair by the window. Then Mom mimed holding a baby, supporting the head and all that, and Dean mimicked her the best he could. Finally, John placed the newborn Sam into Dean's arms for the first time.

Suddenly, John was shoving Sam into his arms again, only this time he was crying and Mommy was on the ceiling. It was so hot, and Dad was yelling something, "Now, Dean. Go!"

"Dean?"

"What? Oh, yeah, uh…" stuttered Dean. Why was it that every time he thought about his mother, this happened? Damn Sam. Opening the non-existent emotional scars… "My first memory?"

"Yeah." replied Sam simply, still with that friggin' look in his eyes. Where the hell did he learn that?

"Uh," grunted Dean. He could always lie, say it was the first time he heard Back in Black or something. Sam would probably get the hint and drop it. "The day you were born."

"Yeah?" Sam said again, his look changing slightly. Now his eyes were a little surprised and shooting Dean warm and fuzzies. Oh God.

"Yeah. What's with the monosyllables? And why the hell do you wanna know this all the sudden?" asked Dean quickly, not quite sure if he wanted the answer.

"I was just thinking—"

"Shocking."

" I was just thinking," continued Sam with yet another eye roll, "that this might end up as the kids' first memory. And about how that would seriously screw them up. I thought yours would be the fire, and—"

"That I was an anomaly? Seeing as how I'm not screwed up, I'm wonderful." supplied Dean with a trademark smirk. Upon seeing Sam's less than happy reaction, Dean added, "I'm sure the kids have boat loads of happy memories from before this fiasco. Don't worry about it."

"Why not? These kids have seen evil, Dean. I mean, haven't you ever stopped and thought about what happens after we leave, after the hunt? How the victims pick up the pieces? Their whole lives, everything they believed in. Gone. You don't wonder about it?" asked Sam, and dammit he was seriously worried about this.

"No." Dean answered, "Know why?"

Sam's head shook and Dean smiled, "Because Sam, family isn't replaceable. But the house, the car, the dog, all that is. You'd understand it if we stuck around to watch them see what's really out there in the world for the first time. Their family is theirs, and theirs alone. No angry-ass crack head ghost is gonna change that. At the end of the day, they'll always have each other. Nothing else matters."

Sam stared at his brother unspeaking, knowing the conversation was over. Dean couldn't help but be a little amused at the look of…almost awe on his brother's face. It's not like he couldn't do chick flick, it's just that he avoided it at all costs. He was a Winchester, after all. They simply did not do that.

-The End-