Mother's Day

Summary: 1-shot. It's Mother's Day at the Bat Cave, Dean's cleaning guns until a simple move from Sam reminds him of how much his brother misses their Mom and shares some memories and a gift. *Protective!Dean * Limp/sad!Sam* Set before 08x22 Clip Show.

Warnings: Some for minor language as always.

Spoilers/Tags: It may have some minor spoilers and while it's not tagged to anything it does take place before 08x22 Clip Show

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is written for entertainment and enjoyment.

A/N: Not what I'm supposed to be working on but it clicked so I decided to do a little story for the boys to remember Mary. Enjoy!

SPN SPN SPN SPN

Cleaning their supply of guns wasn't an odd thing for Dean Winchester to do. He'd been doing it since his Dad first taught him how and since he had no clue what he and Sam would be facing soon the need to have clean weapons suddenly hit him.

Spreading a cloth out on the main table in their new home so no oil or grease stained it, which would set Sam off or it normally would have if his brother didn't seem almost like a shadow of his former self these days.

Thinking of Sam suddenly had Dean's head shooting up to look around. He hadn't realized that he'd been at this for so long and he hadn't heard a peep out of Sam since very early that morning.

They were on the ropes with this final trial and Sam was on the ropes with his health, both of which were causing Dean a lot of stress.

Though for some reason this morning Sam had been more quiet than usual and considering his little brother had been sick and quiet for months that was saying a lot.

Of course, he'd also noticed Sam watching him closer from under his lashes whenever he thought Dean wasn't looking and he'd nearly been ready to ask a snarky question when Sam had disappeared.

"Sam?" thinking that his brother might've gone back to his room to sleep; Dean was wiping his hands of some gun oil when he heard a crash, a bang and a sharp curse. "Sammy?!"

"Fine, I'm fine," Sam called back, his voice sounded tired and strained. "I'll…I'll clean it up."

Covering a groan because those words coming from his brother were never a good thing as Dean had learned often growing up. "Sam, what're you doing and where are you doing it that something needs cleaned up?" he asked, debating on looking but not wanting Sam to get defensive if he thought his older brother was checking up on him…which he would be but he just didn't want that whole fight right then.

When he didn't get an answer, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Since they'd started the trials Sam had been pushing to keep going even as his own body was betraying him.

It was only just recently that he had begun to let Dean help him a little but there were still times when Sam balked at his older brother's mother hen tactics and had all but shut down this morning when Dean had jokingly said something way too mother like.

'Okay, two minutes more and I'm going to check,' he thought to himself, accepting Sam's need to have some control but also knowing there were too much stuff in this place that could hurt his brother if they weren't careful.

Dean had just finished reassembling his .45 when a tray was set on the table next to his elbow. A look at it made his lips twitch. "Really?"

"Figured…you skipped breakfast since you've been at this since I woke up," Sam offered a half shrug from where he stood, leaning more heavily on the table than he normally would have. "Um, hey when you did the laundry did you get any of my stuff mixed in with yours?"

Splitting his focus on putting the gun cleaning kit back in the order he kept it, Dean smirked but didn't miss when the tray was once again nudged into his arm. "Doubt it since any of your stuff would drown me but you can go look if you want," he replied, seeing and knowing the game for what it was.

When Sam had been small and he'd be sick he'd want to wear, when he would still fit, or just hold onto something of his brother's.

Dean used to tease him about it mercilessly until Pastor Jim had called him the carpet one time after his eight year old little brother had been clinging to one of Dean's flannel shirts while sick.

"'Sam doesn't have a Mom. He barely sees your Dad. Sam only has one thing he counts on and that's you, Dean. He doesn't and never has had what we'd call a security blanket so when he's sick or scared you or something that is yours is what he clings to. Don't take that away from him this soon.'"

Aside from Bobby Singer and his own Dad, Jim Murphy was one of the wisest men Dean knew and had slowly started paying more attention to when Sam started to cling more or get into his things more and it was usually either after a fight with Dad or the kid was sick or hurt or Dean had been hurt.

Since then and since Sam had grown up, damn it still didn't seem possible that his chubby baby brother had turned thirty just a week or so ago, he'd just begun to make it as easy as possible for Sam to get something of his if he wanted it.

"Um, thanks," Sam mumbled, covering the cough with his arm before backing away. "You…should eat, De'n," he put in before vanishing down the hall before his brother gave the tray his full attention.

Blowing out a breath, Dean finished with the kit to finally look at the tray and felt his lips curl into a full smile as he chuckled as what he saw.

Normally his breakfast included something with bacon. Eggs also applied in some fashion and if he felt like cooking or they went out it would also include waffles or pancakes, as well as coffee.

Well, his brother's attempt at breakfast today did include coffee or at least Dean assumed the soupy black mess in the mug with a smiley face was coffee but he wasn't too eager to taste it to be sure since he was pretty sure it was eating the spoon that was in it.

"Huh," sitting the coffee aside where he could make certain it didn't move, Dean's attention slowly fell on the bowl of soggy cereal that seemed a mix of corn flakes and Lucky Charms that had been sitting too long in the milk.

Debating when Sam had chosen to kill him, he nudged the soppy mess around before at least trying it and blinked through tears at the amount of sugar it had been laced with.

Touching the toast, which seemed to be the most edible thing on the tray, something was slowly nibbling in the back of Dean's brain as he lifted the first piece then rolled his eyes as the blackened second piece caught his eye and he was certain Sam had either gone off the deep end or he was trying to poison him.

"Kid never could cook breakfast," he muttered but hadn't lost his amused look when he noticed a slip of paper under the plate with the toast. Pulling it out to read the shaky handwriting, Dean's fingers clenched around it as his mind suddenly clicked on why this seemed so familiar and suddenly his little brother's odd behavior didn't seem so odd while Dean felt a little sick.

The way Sam had clammed up on his this morning, the odd little looks to finally this breakfast that any five to six year old could make.

Actually Sam had been six the one and only time he'd tried to make his brother breakfast out of the blue. They'd been left with Pastor Jim while their Dad hunted when one Sunday morning Dean woke up to a beaming little brother holding a tray with stuff that Sam had so proudly made all by himself.

It had taken Dean most of the morning to choke down the soggy cereal, too runny eggs and burnt toast while at least then he had milk to drink and most of that had been spilled on the shaky trip up from the kitchen.

He'd eaten it because he had a pair of wide hazel puppy dog eyes watching him and there was no way in Hell that he'd disappoint those eyes so he'd risk food poisoning to make Sammy happy.

It wasn't until that afternoon after Sam had settled in Jim's office with a pack of crayons and Dean caught what he was drawing that it hit him with the same sinking feeling that had just hit him now.

"'It's Mother's Day, Dean. John's not here. He never knew your Mom really and you don't talk about her with him so…you got the breakfast in bed. I tried to help but he showed how much of John's son he is because he wanted to do it himself. Sorry.'"

Jim had been more amused than apologetic but Dean had gotten the hint and had spent the day coloring with his little brother as he made a Mother's Day card to a Mom that had loved him with all her heart but that he only had blurry memories of.

"Shit," a quick look at the calendar on his phone told Dean exactly what day this was and he slumped back in the seat with a groan.

With all the worry about Sam over the trials and now not knowing what Crowley was up to, he'd forgotten Mother's Day; which even though his Mom had been gone thirty years Dean always tried to do something to remember her even if he never let Sam know about it.

Sam had only been a week or so old the one and only Mother's Day he'd gotten to spend with Mary Winchester but Dean still remembered the card he'd made for Mary from his new little brother and even though it required several hours of scrubbing baby Sammy's little feet he still believed his Mom had liked it even though she'd tried to use 'Mom' tone about sitting the baby's feet in pink paint.

Though most of the 'Mom' tone had been aimed at their Dad who couldn't stop laughing, he wasn't laughing too much when he learned that Dean had used his favorite shirt to wipe the leftover paint off his brother.

Swallowing the sudden lump that had formed, Dean reached up to run a hand over his face only to feel the wetness on his cheeks. Coughing to push back the emotion, he absently grabbed the mug to take a drink only to freeze and nearly choke at the strong tasting murky coffee and refused to think about what the hell Sam had done to mess up coffee.

Looking at the slim manila envelope he'd picked up from their new post office box a few days earlier, he sighed while eyeing the hallway that he knew Sam had gone and also suddenly figured he knew what else his brother wanted in his room.

Dean had a photo of their Mom, the only one that had survived the fire aside from the photos that Jenny had given him and Sam that one trip back to Lawrence eight years earlier.

Hating to disappoint his sick little brother by not eating his attempt at breakfast, Dean eyed the cereal and managed to down it before grabbing the envelope and heading off to his room where he was certain he'd still find Sam.

Taking a look inside, he felt a jump as he looked at the glossy photo again. Before Charlie had left, he'd given her a few photos to scan and asked if she could possibly do anything with them and even he'd been amazed when he'd gotten the envelope.

"Charlie, you are awesome," he whispered, tucking it and something he'd pulled out of a box in the Impala's trunk last night under his arm. "Sammy? You find what you were looking for?"

Asking in a louder voice to let his brother know he was close and figured he'd give the kid a chance to level out any emotions but the moment he pushed open his door and heard the first sob a clench in his gut warned Dean that this wasn't going to be one of those no chick flick moments he strived for. "Sammy?"

Sam was sitting on the floor with his back against Dean's bed, his knees drawn up to his chin with his face buried against them while one of Dean's more used flannel shirts was clenched in one hand while Dean didn't have to guess what was in his brother's other hand.

Taking a shaky breath, he slowly stepped closer until he was able to ease down until he was sitting beside his brother and Dean knew Sam was aware of him by the way his fingers seemed to tense around the flannel but he didn't move, look up or try to stop the flood of tears like he normally would.

Sitting what he had with him aside; Dean took a few moments to settle his own nerves before speaking and what he said next wasn't what he planned to say at all.

"She called you peanut," where in the hell that had come from Dean didn't know since he hadn't recalled that baby name his mother had used for Sam until he opened his mouth but knew it had gained Sam's attention even if it was only just a shift in his breathing. "I didn't get it because while you looked a little like one, you didn't smell like a peanut and you usually tasted like baby powder so you…what?"

Sniffing back the tears that had begun in earnest as soon as he'd sat down, Sam had been trying to get his emotions back under control but had just decided to go with it since he wasn't sure if he'd have this moment again.

He hadn't wanted Dean to find him like this but hadn't yet been able to stop the flood when he felt his brother sit next to him and only the ridiculous comment made him shift his head enough that he could shoot a wary look beside him.

Dean normally didn't talk about their Mom very much and Sam had learned early on not to push him. Dean had been four when she died but he did have more memories of her than Sam but somewhere inside Sam knew that it had hurt his brother to speak of Mary.

This statement had come out of the blue and Sam wasn't sure to believe it or not but something in the way Dean sounded when he brought up the baby powder made Sam eye his brother like he would whenever he did something gross.

"Did…Dean, did you…" coughing to clear his throat as well as figure out a way to phrase this, Sam closed his eyes but not before seeing the way Dean shifted uneasily. "Dean, did you…try to…God…"

"What? I was four and thought it weird that Mom called you Peanut. You were so find of trying to make me your lunch so I thought it was fair and licked your hand once and this spit for twenty minutes cause she'd just given you a bath and you tasted like baby powder and lotion," Dean scowled at the taste still then offered a smirk. "I still didn't get it but figured out pretty fast that it wasn't a good idea cause you tasted awful."

The image that brought made Sam snicker and while the tears were still in his eyes, the sobs had slowly drifted into the occasional hiccup as he eased closer so that his shoulder was pressed against his brother's, as if drawing comfort and strength from him.

Glancing at the photo of Dean and their Mom made him ache from wanting to know so much but being afraid to ask when he felt a warm hand grip his shoulder as something else was held out. "What's…this?" he asked, lifting his head to wipe his face with the sleeve of his own shirt since he didn't want to use his brother's flannel for that.

The piece of wrinkled construction paper seemed faded and worn with time but Sam could still make out the words, clearly written by a child's hand but he knew on instinct that this was before he'd been old enough to write and the slant of a couple letters told him that his big brother had written this.

"You're first Mother's Day card to Mom," Dean heard the intake of breath as Sam reached with the hand that still held the photo to take the card. "You were just a week or so old so I made it for you but you…signed it. Sort of."

Sam had been running a finger over the writing on the front before starting to open the fragile card that had to be as old as he was when that hit him and he let his gaze move back to see Dean watching him with knowing eyes. "Sort of?" he repeated, opening the card to see the childish writing offering a greeting then his eyes looked down to see two tiny feet print in pink paint still very clear. "Are those…mine?"

Coughing his laugh as a cough, Dean used his own boot to nudge his brother's larger shoe while nodding at the card. "Yep. Those tiny little feet are what you were born with. I still don't know what in the hell we fed you that you shot up in size and out in shoe size, baby brother but it was either your feet or your hands and I thought maybe they wouldn't notice pink feet on you until the paint wore off."

"You…pink paint, Dean?" Sam groaned but knew he was smiling as his brother laughed fully, not the low chuckle Dean normally used but the full and real laugh he only seemed to do now and then and usually only with Sam. "First you lick me and then you tried to paint me pink?"

Faking insulted, Dean tapped the card again while throwing on a pout for good measure. "First, you couldn't even hold your head up yet so you sure couldn't hold a pencil and that's how Dad said you signed yourself out of the hospital was by those footprints on your birth certificate and second, brat, I didn't lick you until you were at least…three months old," he corrected before letting his smile come back. "Have I mentioned I was your favorite teething ring when those teeth started coming in?"

Actually his Dad had mentioned that once but Sam had never been sure if it was the truth until he looked to a small ring of light scars on Dean's wrist that he'd never figured out where they had come from.

"I looked like something a werewolf with no teeth had gnawed on," Dean snickered, letting the hand he'd placed on Sam's shoulder slide to the back of his neck which was where he normally held when offering comfort. "Of course I didn't have to get a tetanus shot for anything but you either," he squeezed so his brother knew he was joking, not that he planned on admitting that he had just gotten his shots for school right then.

Letting his head rest on his knees but kept it turned toward Dean, Sam tucked the card next to his chest as he showed the photo. "I know I saw her in Lawrence that one time when we helped Jenny & then that other time but…was she as pretty as this, De'n?" he asked quietly, not noticing the way he'd dropped a letter in his brother's name like he would when tired.

The naked need to know shone so clearly in Sam's huge eyes that it nearly broke Dean's heart and he damned both himself and their Dad for not sharing more of their Mom with a little boy who had gone through so much even before he'd been a year old.

"Mom was beautiful, Sammy," he began slowly, hearing the catch in his own husky voice and figured there was no way he'd get through this without breaking his own rule. "You have her eyes and when you smile, I mean really smile…the Sammy smile that I don't see very much these days, you have her smile and dimples and…" moving his other hand to let it gently card back through Sam's hair he chose to add. "…and if you let this get much longer you'll have Mom's hair too.

"She liked to joke; you get that from her too. She loved to read and would spend hours reading to us and I swear it was like you were absorbing every word…I guess that's why you have such a huge brain now," Dean touched the envelope next to him as he tried to compress what little memories he could bring back that would explain their Mom to his brother.

"You know when you get pissed off at me? I don't mean the usual pissed off but the kind that requires major bitch face pissed off? Mom had a look just like that and while she didn't use it often on him, Dad knew when she got 'that' look that he may as well go buy a boatload of flowers and start sucking up," he smirked then while nudging Sam's arm. "Why do you think I normally go out and come back with something geeky?"

Surprised at how easy Dean seemed to be with this, Sam couldn't help the little laugh that brought since he could recall countless little geeky things his brother would just drop in his lap after storming out after a fight and coming back.

"Did…she sing?" this question was whisper that Dean had to strain to hear but smiled because he knew where this was coming from.

"Mom would sing Daydream Believer to you when she was rocking you or when you'd begin to get fussy," Dean remembered laying under his brother's bassinet and listening to his mother's voice when she sang and he quickly had to push that down by telling Sam the time their Dad had tried it. "You didn't respond the same way but then Dad was tone deaf or so Bobby said."

Feeling the muscles on Sam's neck begin to relax, Dean knew some of the tension had leaving him and so decided it was safe enough to give him what he'd asked Charlie to make. "I know you don't remember her, Sammy and I'm sorry I never shared my memories of Mom with you. That wasn't fair to you but I know she loved you and I know right now she's looking down from wherever she is and giving Crowley that 'Mom' look that means 'touch her baby and it's over."

It never failed to bring fresh tears if Sam thought of his their Mom would look at him now when he blinked at the manila envelope Dean was handing him. "What's this?" he asked after another sniffle but this time he couldn't read anything in Dean's green eyes and had to open the envelope. "Dean, what is…oh, God," he broke off, voice choked as hew tears hit him.

"I found those in Dad's truck when Bobby and I cleaned it out," Dean had actually been expecting this reaction and so moved closer so he could wrap one arm around his suddenly shaking little brother and drew him closer to him. "That one was right after you were born and Dad took it in the hospital of you and Mom."

He used his free hand to carefully remove the glossy 8x10 photo collage of various images of Sam and Mary set about the photo of both of them with their parents that had been taken in front of their old house in Lawrence.

"That one on the bottom was on Halloween and even though you were too young to go out, Mom dressed you up like a little pumpkin which I, of course, found just so amusing considering how chubby you back then," Dean threw in, hiding his grin when he felt Sam's elbow dig into his ribs.

"There are smaller ones in the envelope too but I…thought you'd like to have one big one or…something," he coughed, feeling odd now and beginning to doubt his decision as Sam seemed to shake harder. "Sammy? C'mon, man, say…something. Damn, I didn't want this to…Sam?"

Moving faster than Dean had been expecting, Sam uncurled his long body to turn and latch onto his surprised brother with both arms and with more strength than Sam has had in weeks. "I…didn't think there was any of just her and me," he managed to get out, not caring if his was crying like a baby or if was trying to hold onto his brother like he had as a little kid when only Dean could make the bad stuff go away.

He'd had so many people tell him so many things, especially while he was in the Cage, that he'd begun to think that maybe his Mom had somehow known just how wrong he'd be when he grew up. Seeing those photos of his Mom smiling while holding him, laughing as she held him up in his little pumpkin costume or steadying Dean while she held them both on a swing had made the emotional walls break again and this time Sam wasn't sure if he could close it again.

"I knew there was, Sammy but I just wasn't sure if you were ready to see them yet and they were in pretty bad shape so I asked little Miss Hacker to fix something up for you," Dean knew his own voice had dropped to the deeper, huskier one he got when covering emotion and after another sob and hard shake he gave up and just held Sam tighter, knowing the best way to get his brother over this kind of reaction was to just hold him and let him get it out.

Shifting a little so he could get a better grip on Sam, Dean blew the no chick flick rule for the rest of the year and just held his little brother like he had when Sam was small. "I know it's Mother's Day, Sammy and I know how much it hurts you not to have known her but Mom would be proud of you and love you even if she would need a step stool to look you in the eye," he relaxed a little when he heard the small hiccupping laugh but stayed silent when Sam buried his face against his neck to let the rest of the burning tears fall.

"It's okay now," he murmured, keeping his hold tight while beginning to trace familiar sigils on the back of Sam's neck like he used to in a way to let his brother know he wasn't alone and that he never would be. "I'm right here, Sammy."

Dean sat still while making the occasional soothing sound until slowly, he wasn't sure how long it took, until Sam began to relax against him even though he hadn't let go of him.

Sam's fingers still would clench and release from where they'd been clutching onto the back of Dean's flannel over shirt but his sobs had slowed down to the occasional sniffle that he seemed oblivious to since he kept his head buried in his brother's neck.

"Sammy?" Dean waited until he couldn't feel the tears against his skin anymore to see how far under Sam had slipped.

"Mm-mm?" was all the muffled reply he got as Sam relaxed his arms a little but just enough to curl into Dean's side, exhausted.

Running his tongue over his teeth as this brought back memories, Dean laid his head back to see if he could possibly reach the pillow on his bed but found it was too far away to grab it without jarring Sam back awake. "Umm, you want to try using the bed as a pillow instead of me?" he had his doubts if that would happen in this state of mind and had it confirmed the second he felt Sam tense as if afraid his brother would move.

"No," Sam mumbled, half asleep and clearly not moving. "De'n?"

Figuring he was going to be stiff by the time Sam woke up enough to convince him to move, Dean sighed but let his one hand move up so he could card too long bangs back out of Sam's face and smiled at the look of peace he couldn't remember he'd last seen on his younger brother's face. "Yeah, Sammy?"

"Thanks for the pictures and…for this," the last was whispered but being so close could still be heard. "De'n?"

"Are you awake or just talking in your sleep?" Dean wasn't sure since Sam tended to do that if he was really tired and he'd gotten them both in so much trouble with their Dad one time like that. "What?"

Shivering a little as his body slowly relaxed, Sam mumbled something as the flannel shirt he'd been clinging to was wrapped around him since he'd taken to clinging to the one Dean was currently wearing. "You…still sing?"

Dean jerked his head down to look if Sam was awake but nope, those huge puppy dig eyes were closed tight. He figured he knew was Sam was asking and he was really curious just how much how of his brother's early childhood did Sam remember because Dean hadn't sang to him since Sam was a toddler.

"Are you the one who says my singing's worse than a cat in heat or some phrase you learn off of Bobby?" he asked easily, keeping his fingers moving in the same soothing pattern on Sam's neck but didn't miss the next words his brother mumbled.

"Better than Dad."

"You are right there, baby brother," Dean smirked, pretty certain Jim Murphy didn't to replace a window or two the one and only time his Dad had tried to sing his crying brother to sleep. "Tell you what, let's try this."

Managing to pull his phone out of his pocket without moving Sam, Dean flipped through the few songs he kept stored there for just such occasions or when he was bored and frowned until he came across the one that no matter what phone he got, he always made certain it was on it.

Keying the song to play on a loop until the battery gave out or Sam woke up, Dean heard the first few beats and felt Sam's small sleepy smile before the words even started and knew he'd sleep for at least a couple hours.

As Sam relax fully into sleep, he only let go of Dean's shirt with one hand as if needing to keep some kind of physical contact to be sure this was real. He could feel the warm fingers drawing sigils and other patterns on his neck like Dean used to do to calm him down.

Feeling his brother go totally into sleep, Dean rolled his eyes while trying to get more comfortable on the floor as he sat with his legs stretched out and his back against the memory foam mattress of his bed while making sure Sam stayed asleep as 'Daydream Believer' played from his phone.

Thinking back to the times he'd listened to their Mom sing it to Sam made him smile and he didn't seem aware of when he began to sing along with the song or that when he did the rest of the tension in Sam left.

A soft feather like touch seemed to ghost over his face like a soft touch but Sam knew even in his half asleep state that his brother hadn't moved his other hand and he'd know Dean's touch by now in his sleep, which is was, so smiled a little more.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mom," he whispered in his sleep, going under completely with just the sound of his brother and a song that he'd known since childhood echoing in his head and on his heart as he slept soundly for the first time in a long while.

The End