Author's Note: Been awhile since I've written anything for this, but my inspiration when writing is fickle. It comes and goes and sometimes leaves me for a long time. The thing is, I've had this little idea poking around in my head since before Valentine's Day but was unable to write anything down due to lack of inspiration. I do hope you enjoy it though. I'm satisfied with how it turned out.
Sam wakes up this morning like's done every morning for the past couple of weeks: groggy, unhappy, and not expecting much from the world. He sits up on the edge of his motel bed and stretches, cracking his stiff joints and listening to them each pop one by one. Then he simply stays seated for a moment like he always does. Sometimes he reflects upon the previous night's dream but more often than not he finds himself thinking about nothing at all.
Or he tries to, anyway. Tries as hard as he can to forget the smell of smoke and burning flesh, and the heat of the fire as it burned all around him.
He tries to forget her screams and pleads as the fire consumed her, peeled her skin back piece by little piece, the flames taking their sweet time.
There's nothing he can do, of course. The image of her beautiful blonde hair being eaten up in the inferno and the look of utter horror on her face when she realizes that Sam isn't going to be able to get her down and out of the heat is pure torture.
Sam looks up with tired eyes at the little calender that's placed on the nightstand between his and his brother's bed's. The noise that he makes when he sees today's date is somewhat of a choked back sob and he has to catch himself before he manages to wake up Dean, who is sleeping soundly on the other bed.
Breath hitching in his throat, Sam gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Once he's showered and made himself look half decent he grabs his jacket and laptop bag and heads for the door. The little convenience store he remembers seeing on their way here is only two blocks away so instead of taking the impala he walks. Besides, doing this gives him time to think about everything and clear his head a bit. Or at least it gives him time to try.
Unfortunately, the one thing he is unable to keep out of his head during the entire course of his walk is an image of the little calender on the nightstand and today's date; circled by whomever had the stupid idea with a red pen in the shape of a Goddamned heart.
Frowning, Sam glances up just in time to see the store coming into view and upon viewing it, lets out a long sigh. The front of the store has little hearts drawn all over the front window in red and pink marker and from what he can tell the inside is decorated in much of the same fashion.
Fuck.
Oh well. Better just hurry up before he throws up.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Sam ducks his head, eyes hiding beneath his too long bangs, and enters.
When he returns to the motel about an hour later, Dean is up and sitting at the table with a coffee mug in his hand. Whether he's actually awake though, is questionable as he glances up at Sam with half-lidded eyes and hair sticking up in different directions when Sam walks in. Dean doesn't say anything and neither does Sam, but despite Dean's appearance Sam has no doubt about the look of sympathy hidden in his brother's eyes.
The youngest Winchester doesn't mention it and sets the laptop bag back down on his bed then heads to the bathroom. His eyes are red.
Likewise, Dean doesn't mention the little Valentine's Day card addressed to Jessica stuffed into Sam's duffel bag when he finds it a few hours later.