It's Easter soon! So I am working on writing an Easter story, bc Winchesters plus holidays just can't go according to plan, can it...! That'll be all you amazing people's Easter gift, because your requests keep me going, so thank you for that :) There are 2 requests I'm working on at the moment, and this is the first one, set in Season 8 and the Trials, with Sam and animals! Kittens, to be precise. Shush, it doesn't make sense but how can one argue with Sam and animals :D Hope you all enjoy a little break from angst! Also, though, I got Impala feels whilst writing the start... /sigh -Rayne

Season: Eight, second half, before say **8x20**

Characters/Themes: Sam, Dean, Kittens (:D) ; sickness, happiness, comfort, caring, family, friendship, animals

Request: from 'AshleyMarie84' - "Love these! I have a thing for Sam and animals, So could you write something about Sam finding a litter of kittens and caring for them. Maybe set it during the . Trials so Dean is happy that his brother has something to keep him distracted from how sick he's feeling."

Sam walked down the street from the Bunker, restless and just needing some fresh air. He'd mumbled something to Dean about going out, grabbed his jacket, phone, wallet and gun - obviously - and left quickly, leaving his brother slightly confused.

He sighed as he tried to focus on where he was going, not actually having an idea in his mind. He just wanted out; out of the Bunker, out of this Trial crap, and out of feeling equally like crap.

The Bunker was on his mind, though, as he walked along the street, heading vaguely for a small town that was just about within walking distance. The place that they now apparently had to call Home.

Dean had settled right in, and had started with his 'nesting' - something that Sam couldn't remember ever seeing before. But, as far as he was concerned, the Bunker was just where they worked, where they researched, and where they could be safe from anything.

It wasn't really home. The only home Sam had ever known was on four wheels, and it was the only home he ever really needed. The Impala may be old, and cramped when stuck in it for hours at a time with an annoying older brother, but she was there for them.

After all, only the Impala had taken enough blood on her seats to wring out a sponge. Only their car had been ground up, and crashed, and possessed, and still came through. And the love that Dean showed the maintenance of the car easily reflected when anyone looked at her. She was always kept shining with black, her windows clean, her tyres wiped the worst of the mud of.

She was always there for them. So that was why Sam was having a hard time figuring out what home really was apart from their car.

And that train of thought was what had resulted with the younger Winchester having to get out of their new 'home', just for a walk, just to calm down, take a break, and try to ignore the constant pains in his body.

Which was hard. Of course. What part of their lives was ever easy?

Because these goddamn Trials were really beginning to take it out of him, ever since he started coughing blood. Sam was resigned to the fact that Dean now knew about this, especially after what Cas had said, about being 'not fine'.

However, it still fell on Sam to protect his brother from most of the information about what the Trials were doing to him. Because they were doing a lot. And not a good lot.

It meant that even at the moment, every step Sam took away from the safety of the Bunker - yeah, Dean was going to kick his ass for that later - caused pain to spring into life; it felt like a hundred big needles drilling into his skin at once, taking his blood, sapping his energy.

Each cough burned his lungs, left a metallic taste in his mouth... the taste of death. At least, most of the time that's what it was. Because coughing up blood meant internal injuries, nothing that could be cured with Winchester first aid. So that meant, most of the time, hospital or death. And hell if Sam was going to go to ER. They couldn't help, anyway.

So Sam kept this information from his brother. In an attempt to seem healthier than he really was so that Dean would maybe be able to occasionally stop worrying as much as he always did.

But of course that was a lost cause. No matter what Sam said or did, his actions always spoke louder than words. Dean could read him after a whole life of experience, and knew when he was hurting.

Brooding was one of Sam's best subjects, and so he settled for a thoughtful silence as he walked. In fact, he was so busy thinking that he almost missed the quiet sound that came from somewhere off in the grass just over there...

As a hunter, Sam was immediately alert. But as he heard the sound again, and edged closer towards it, he could only identify it as cats meowing.

What the hell...?

Sure enough, as he got close enough, he could see a closed box nestled, pretty much hidden, in the middle of a grassy patch. Frowning, thoughts of danger and hurt forgotten, Sam knelt down in the morning dew-wet grass to take a closer look.

He carefully slipped a finger beneath the top flap and pulled it open, causing the other three flaps to open too, and reveal what was inside.

Which was, as the noise had proven, a small litter of about six kittens.

Amazed, Sam sat back on his heels, watching the small creatures paw weakly at the edges of the box. They couldn't be older than a month or so, and seemed dehydrated and hungry, if their mewing was anything to go by.

Sam looked around, wary for a mother cat to jump at him. But there was nothing nearby, not even any sounds apart from the birds tweeting. It was quite peaceful, until a car would roar down the road beside the grass and trees.

No doubt if the little things were to ever get out of the box - which was quite possible - then they would wonder blindly into the road and be immediately run over, or hit and die slowly.

Seeing the kittens flickered something in Sam. Animals getting run over... that wasn't happening on his watch again. Not after Riot...

Shaking his head to rid of those thoughts - it'sokayDean'sbacknowit'sokaythathappenedbutthisishappeningrightnow - he gently put a hand into the box to see what the little creatures would do.

One or two attempted to play-bite; their tiny teeth barely making Sam wince (we'vedonealotmorewithpainSammy) and he quickly stroked a beautiful black and white one for a moment, blinking hard to try and rid of the sudden flashbacks.

A couple more kittens pawed at his sleeve and the last one tried to mew extra loudly to attract his attention. Sam felt a smile spread across his face. These animals were hungry and needed caring for. And that, Sam could do.

He tucked the flaps back together to shut the box, and scooped it up in his arms, before changing his mind and putting it back down, instead reaching for his phone in his pocket. Maybe he could do with some backup for an unusual rescue...

Dean flicked through a super boring book without reading it, and rubbed his eyes before glancing at his watch. He frowned slightly; Sam had been gone for about an hour now. Scowling at the thought of letting his weakened brother go off alone anyway, Dean debated whether it was worth calling his brother just to hear the bitching in his voice of how he didn't need babysitting.

Just as he was pondering that thought, his phone began to vibrate and ring, and a glance showed that it was Sam. Dean quickly answered and put the mobile to his ear.

"Yeah? Missing me, Samantha*?"

However, Sam's exasperated sigh that usually accompanied a jibe like that wasn't present, and that got Dean immediately concerned more than anything else.

"Sam? What's wrong?" he asked warily, conscious that his brother hadn't replied yet, even though he was the one that had called Dean.

There was another second of silence before Sam said, sounding breathless, "listen, can you come pick me up?"

Dean frowned, concerned, but already standing up and reaching for his jacket. "Sure, where are you? I'll be right there."

"Thanks." Sam still sounded occupied, more than anything. "I'm on the street, just from the town corner."

"Alright. What's wrong?" Dean asked again, because even as he headed up the stairs and out the door, he worried about what Sam could be calling backup for. He liked to walk, and run, the health nut, so unless he was injured or sick, he'd usually...

Ah, yes. Because Sam was sick at the moment. Yeah, that whole thing really sucked. Getting in the Impala now, with increasing urgency, Dean waited for Sam's report on why he was calling his brother.

"Um, nothing much," Sam eventually replied, trying to sound casual. "I just... found something and could do with a lift rather than taking it all the way back."

Dean sighed. He didn't really expect much more of a structured answer from his brother. "Alright. I'll be there in five."

"Thanks," Sam repeated, and abruptly hung up.

As he drew closer to the street that Sam had been walking down, Dean kept an eye out for his brother. Soon he saw him, crouched in the grass watching something. Frowning, Dean pulled up near to him.

Sam looked around when he heard the sound of the Impala, and his face brightened slightly seeing Dean. And that Dean couldn't help but smile slightly at as he waited patiently for Sam to come and get into the car.

He did, after picking a box up from the ground. Approaching the car, he looked nervous, and slowly walked around to the passenger side, getting in and putting the box on his lap.

After shutting the door, Sam tried to avoid Dean's expectant look. "Um, are we gonna go back?" he asked innocently.

That got him narrowed eyes from his brother, who clearly already suspected something. Nevertheless, Dean sighed and revved the engine, the Impala turning around and heading back home.

Drawing up outside the Bunker, Dean turned to Sam and glanced at the box. "Well?" he asked in a tone of you're telling me now.

Shifting uncomfortably, Sam hesitated before replying. "Well, uh, I was just walking, just to think, and uh I heard this sound, so I went to investigate, and well..."

He tilted the box towards Dean, who eyed it cautiously until Sam sighed in exasperation. "Look, it's not dangerous, else I wouldn't have brought it back," he pointed out impatiently, which was true.

So with a resigned look, Dean carefully opened the box, and stared in surprise at what was inside before looking back at his brother, who looked like a kid that had just been given a bag of cookies.

The look of excitement that Sam was giving Dean was so infectious that Dean had to quirk a smile back. "Okay, they're cute," he allowed, glancing back at the kittens in the box, who were pawing the edges and climbing over each other, mewing.

"I thought we could uh look after them for tonight, then take them to the Shelter tomorrow morning," Sam said hesitantly, waiting for Dean's reaction to his idea. As he watched Dean consider it - his brother admittedly wasn't such a fan of taking care of animals - he felt a tingling at the back of his throat.

Not wanting to cough, especially not now, and not in front of Dean, Sam tried to discretely clear his throat, but the metallic tang was too much. Quickly, he clasped one hand on the edge of the box to hold it steady in his lap as he reached up the other hand to cover his hoarse cough, turning away from Dean, who was immediately on the alert, and was watching Sam, concerned.

As usual, red decorated his hand and Sam hastily wiped it on his jeans - not on the car, obviously - and cleared his throat before turning back to Dean, who was eyeing him in an assessing way. "Okay?" Dean asked, all sincere.

Sam nodded, cursing his body. He didn't want to ruin the moment, dammit. He suddenly realised that something was touching his hand, and looked in surprise at the box, Dean following his gaze.

Three or so of the kittens were playing with Sam's hand that was holding the box steady, pawing it and mewing with pleasure. This made Sam smile, all brightness and pleasure. Dean saw this and the effect it had on his brother, and...

Well, with Sam so miserable and hurting from the effects of the Trials, it took something amazing - like his brother, sometimes - to get him to calm down and relax, and smile.

"Okay, we can keep them for the night," he pretended to allow, smiling; really he had been going to say yes all along, and Sam knew it.

Sitting in the only true home he had ever known, his brother by his side and something to help, that he could actually help, Sam smiled again, all dimples and forgiveness and caring. "Thanks, Dean," he replied, sincere, before the two got out of the car to go into their Bunker.

Dean just nodded in response, watching his brother and not even caring about anything else in the world at the moment.

Because Sam's smile was worth the world to Dean.

*This is a shoutout to a Guest who reviewed and left a request, but I didn't feel comfortable with it, so I haven't done it. However, they asked for the use of 'Samantha' to be used, so I'm using it in this story instead, as a shoutout for thanks to requesting, and sorry about your story!