WARNING: Spoilers for 6x22 "The Man Who Knew Too Much" through at least 7x02 "Hello, Cruel World".

Author's Note: Happy Independence Day to all of you in America! In keeping with my tradition of posting on this story for the holiday every year, this chapter takes place on July 4th, set during season 7. I hope you enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

The Impala carried the brothers down quiet country roads, Dean doing his best to keep her off the freeways and highways that would be the path of choice for the rest of the country on this night; the Fourth of July was a holiday he'd always enjoyed, but never for its traffic conditions.

Dean loved the foods and drinks. On a warm July evening, a juicy burger and a cold beer made for the most satisfying of combinations. Filling, refreshing, and soothing to the soul, few meals left a man feeling more contented.

He loved the general idea of the holiday, too. An entire nation gathering together in the spirit of celebration to honor the fact that, over two centuries prior, independence was declared. America stepped out on its own, and all those years later it was still standing, a success.

The fireworks were what he loved most of all, but not because watching his fellow Americans demonstrate their endearingly rambunctious nature through dazzling acts of explosives detonation was entertaining. Not because the flash and bang of brilliant colorful sparks lighting up a night sky would make anyone stop and stare. Not even because he was a man who could appreciate a day where blowing things up was legalized and condoned…

Dean loved them because Sammy loved them.

Ever since he was old enough not to be frightened by all the commotion, Sam had begged to get to see the fireworks, starting weeks before the holiday itself. It used to wear their dad down at times, but it always made Dean smile.

Sam grew up, of course. He no longer begged for anything, especially not permission to partake in a totally normal holiday activity. Still, it wasn't as if he'd have needed to. In their adult years Sam and Dean typically factored the Fourth into their schedule without having to discuss it. Unless they were working, which had only happened a handful of times in their lives on the holiday, they would find a place to park the Impala and watch the world around them erupt into colors.

That part always made Sammy smile, too.

It was killing Dean that this year his brother couldn't do it. They hadn't talked about Sam's situation – the Hellucinations had been a topic Sam avoided like Dean rejected salad – but Dean wasn't oblivious. The kid had a pale shade of the Devil riding around in his skull, looking for any opportunity to push his buttons; Dean wasn't about to hand Satan a kit of loud noises and fiery bombs to work with.

So Dean kept driving, kept to back roads, kept a smile on his face so Sam wouldn't feel bad.

He was keeping things under control until they rounded a corner and found the street they rode along was destined to cut through a lengthy, flat expanse of grass, and in the distance a fireworks display was in full bloom.

Reds, blues, silvers, and golds burst noisily into a variety of shapes and patterns on the horizon, and Dean glanced quickly at his brother.

"I think I'll turn us around. I don't want to, uh, get caught up in that mess," Dean announced, pressing the brakes and preparing to pull a U-Turn across the deserted road.

Sam replied, "Wait, can't you just… Can you pull over? There?" The younger man pointed to a stretch of dirt shoulder on the vehicle's passenger side.

Fearing Sam was already experiencing adverse psychological effects from the fireworks, Dean did as was requested of him. Once the Impala was safely parked on the roadside, Dean searched his brother's face for any red flags.

He was surprised to find Sammy staring calmly back at him.

"I know what you're doing," the younger Winchester began, "but it's ok. I promise I'm good to watch. Can we?"

Sam hadn't asked for permission to watch fireworks in over a decade, and Dean almost laughed. Except it wasn't funny that he needed to know with certainty his brother wasn't just doing this for his sake…

Hesitantly, Dean questioned, "You sure it's not gonna…?" He wasn't confident on how to finish the inquiry, but he was also aware he didn't need to.

Sam gave an encouraging nod. "Yeah, I'm sure. You're acting like I have the same PTSD a soldier might, but I don't."

"Hey, don't downplay what you went through. You have every right to have all the PTSD in the world and more! I'm not judging, and I un-" Dean started to assert, but Sam was too fast for him.

"I'm not trying to say my head's fine. I'm not fine, I know that. I have PTSD of my own. But this isn't what will set me off," he offered lightly.

"How can you know?" asked Dean.

A slew of positive memories reflected in Sam's eyes as he retorted, "Because Hell was full of torture; hanging out with you watching fireworks is the opposite."

It wasn't the response Dean had anticipated. It was blunt, and a touch sentimental, and plenty of other emotional things Dean usually preferred their talks not to be.

And it convinced him there was nothing he'd rather do than watch some fireworks with his little brother.

"Alright," Dean conceded. "Then let's do this."

They climbed out of the vehicle and went around to her hood, each leaning against the still-warm black metal as they observed the showering lights in the distance accompanied by satisfying 'booms' and 'pops'.

They didn't have any burgers or beer, and they weren't surrounded by rowdy liberty enthusiasts, either. But thanks to all the good times they had spent partaking in those things together, Sam was able to watch the fireworks without the Devil soiling his fun.

Dean couldn't help but think they were appropriately celebrating a day of independence after all.

Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, please do leave feedback; it's always greatly appreciated. And Happy Birthday America! :D

ASIDE: I mentioned Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in passing in this chapter; I just want to clarify that I do NOT take that disorder lightly, nor do I belittle the struggle of any who are afflicted by it. It is a very real condition, and should be taken very seriously. I was only trying to explain that in certain cases of PTSD (such as those commonly experienced by war veterans) fireworks can serve as a trigger. But in Sam's case fireworks likely would not have the same effect because his trauma didn't involve bombs, grenades, missiles, gunfire, etc... I'm also NOT trying to say all soldiers experience PTSD. This is not the case, as I am aware many combat veterans do not present with any PTSD symptoms. However, some do, and that's where the comparison in this chapter came from. Anyway, I figured I should explain myself a little better here, so as to hopefully not leave anyone confused or offended. Thank you!