Author: kaly
Category: Gen; humor; angst
Characters: Dean, Sam
Word Count: 408
Rating: K
Spoilers: none
Summary: Some gifts we carry with us for a lifetime. A birthday present from Sam to Dean is
one of these.
Notes the first: Written for the SFTCOL(aR)S Secret Santa swap. Merry Christmas Gem!
Hope this is something akin to what you were hoping for. :)
Notes the second: Um, Gem's normally my beta so this hasn't been betaed. All mistakes are
mine. The format, however, is all her 'cause she dared me it would never work and I'm
stubborn enough to take the challenge. O:)
Disclaimer: Not mine. The pretty, snarky, angsty brothers belong to Kripke & the CW.
Never Alone
.
.
.
To Give
.
.
"Dude? What's up with you?"
Sam looked up, almost guiltily. "Nothing..."
Rolling his eyes, Dean grunts. "Right."
Sam shoves a package at Dean. "Happy Birthday."
"What?"
"Birthday? Ring any bells?"
"We don't have the money..."
Sam sighs. "Dean, just shut up and open it."
He rips the paper - Sunday comics like they'd used as kids - and coughs around the lump
that is not forming in his throat. "You bought me pajamas?"
Blushing, Sam looks everywhere but at Dean. "AC/DC pajamas," he mumbles.
Dean can't help smiling. His brother might be a geek, but he's his geek. "Thanks Sammy."
.
.
.
To Receive
.
.
Dean pushed the door closed and shivered; wishing not for the first time that he was down
south. January in Michigan was far from his preferred climate.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he began digging through his duffle. His usual bedtime
attire weren't going to cut it in the frozen north with a broken thermostat.
His fingers found something soft and he frowned as he pulled it from the bottom of his bag.
Small red letters, stark against the black background, covered the material. Dean smiled,
remembering when Sam had given them to him, and felt a little warmer.
.
.
.
To Remember
.
.
"Dean, what are you wearing?"
"Dude, you are so not the one I want asking me that."
"Do those have cartoon characters all over them?"
"What?! No! These are very manly, I'll have you know."
"Right."
"Besides, it's all your fault."
"Come again?"
"Yeah. It's like when you make something as a little kid and give it to your dad or big brother
and they're all 'it's so cute' and have to keep it forever because you made it and they're
obligated or something. So, your fault."
"Wait, I bought those."
"You kept them?"
"Good night, Sammy."
"Night, Dean."
.
.
.
To Grieve
.
.
It was days before he could think. Anger and vengeance had played themselves out in a blaze
of glory and at the end he was still alive, still hurting and forever alone.
He had salted and burned the bones hoping Sam rested peacefully. Maybe found their mother
and Jessica and a normal there he couldn't here.
Maudlin wasn't his style but at the moment he couldn't seem to escape it. Curled up in bed, he
clutched a worn t-shirt to his chest. The lettering was long since faded, a lifeline to Sam and a
time when he wasn't irrevocably broken.
end