The funeral was a quiet and short affair. Besides Dean and Sam, Bobby and some of John's army friends had also come to show their support and give their respects.
As the casket was lowered into the ground, Dean came to a realization. This was it. He would never see either of his parents again.
It was at that moment that he wanted to yell. At everyone and everything. At the universe for causing him to lose both of his parents by the time he was eighteen years old.
But he didn't. He didn't shout or yell or cry out. He didn't shed a tear. He didn't even move from the spot he was standing on. He was frozen to the spot, the one that was next to his brother.
Because he knew. He knew he had to stay strong for his little brother, Sammy. Because Sam couldn't be strong for himself.
A few days later
"I'm going to sell the house," Dean announced when they were sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch. Well, eating was an over exaggeration. Neither he or his brother had actually touched their food that much in the past few days. Which was actually starting to concern Dean. He knew what grief could do to people and even though he himself wasn't too keen on eating at that moment, he made sure his little brother ate something every once in a while.
Sam glanced up from his plate. He pushed it away and said, "What?"
Dean bit his lower lip. He wasn't sure how this was going to go. "I'm selling the house," he repeated.
"Why?"
Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "C'mon, Sam, be reasonable, we can't live here-" At Sam's protests, Dean added, "We can't afford it. Anyway, I talked to Bobby and he and Ellen said they'd help me sell the house. And after that's done, we're going to move in with Bobby."
"Fuck no," Sam said as he got up and the legs of the chair he was sitting on scraped against the floor, making an awful squeaking sound.
"Sam," Dean warned.
Sam glared back at him. "No, don't Sam me. I don't want to move in with Bobby. Not after- not-" Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Dean, dad just- he just died."
Dean's eyes softened. "I know that."
"Dad just died," Sam said again. "And I don't even remember mom." Sam's lip trembled. "How is that fair? How is that fucking fair?" He shouted and then tears started to roll down his cheeks.
Dean got up and pulled his little brother in for a hug. "It's not, Sammy, it's not fair at all. But we can't keep living in this house. I know you hate that and I don't want to leave either but it makes sense for us right now and I know you miss dad but you know what?" Dean asked.
"What?"
"I miss him too," Dean admitted, letting a few tears slip for the first time in days.
At that, Sam cried harder.