So, I've had this story sitting around on my flash-drive for, literally, over a year. I started writing this sometime at some point while season 7 was airing and just never got around to finishing it until now. That being said, this is slightly AU now, considering that S7 has now passed and this didn't happen. But considering its nothing major, I decided to leave the time period the same instead of changing the better part of the story.

Hope you all enjoy! :)

Dean was pissed.

It was bad enough the creeps had already taken away their aliases, but forcing them to put Baby away for who the hell knows how long? That was taking it one step too far.

It didn't help that the car they'd managed to lift (that looked like it belong to some high-schooler going by the décor) was what Dean had come to term as the chick-mobile.

So now here they were, guided by the mega-light that hung from the hood and the dimmed glow from a lone street lamp, as the proceeded to empty the trunk of the Impala (something they hadn't really done in years, because, while as he made sure his baby was completely taken care of, spring cleaning was never really Dean's area) and deposit their stash to their new ride of the week.

It wouldn't look to good to passer-by to be unloading a trunk full of weapons in broad daylight.

"Anything else?" He asked as he loaded the last bag of salt into the back of the chick-mobile.

"Uh…" Sam paused as he reached into the trunk, feeling into the deep corners for anything that may have been missed, "Not that I-"

"What?" Dean asked, watching as his brother's face changed from one of concentration to confusion in a matter of seconds.

Sam didn't respond at first as he reached back further into the cargo hold, grabbed at whatever his hand had run across in his search, and pulled out a worn, overused duffle, letting it dangle from is hand.

He raised a brow at Dean who shrugged in response.

Their bags were in the motel; and as far as he knew they didn't have an extra one.

Sam grabbed the mega-light and closed the hood of the trunk before tossing the duffle onto the hood and unzipping the bag.

"It's mine." Sam said, shocked, as he proceeded to dig through the bags contents. "All my old stuff from before anyway."

There was no need to ask exactly what Sam meant by that.

'Before' meant before the situation with Cas had even started. Before his soul-less self had come back. Before Sam's trip down under that had changed everything.

Dean paused, swallowing. "Huh." He commented, trying to sound casual. "Must have gotten shoved back there a while ago." It was a lie and he knew it; Sam didn't though. And he wouldn't tell him.

He wouldn't tell Sam that even after he had settled in with Lisa and Ben he couldn't bring himself to part with Sam's things, and yet at the same time couldn't bear to look at his things either.
That he had carefully packed away all of Sam's things into the back of the Impala where they would be safe. And where they would stay out of sight and sound so he wouldn't have to deal with the onslaught of emotions that always tried to over-power him when he saw something that reminded him of his younger brother.

"Must be." Sam commented, shaking his head.

"Just toss it," Dean jerked his head in the direction of the dumpster, "Whatever's in there probably isn't in any good condition anymore anyway." And as far as Dean was concerned, the fewer reminders they had of the time leading up to Sam's trip down to the pit, the better.

Sam shook his head as he closed the bag with a zip and tossed it over her shoulder, "I'll go through it later – see if there's anything useful in it."

Dean opened his mouth, ready to protest, before shaking his head and turning back the Impala.

"Yeah, you do that." He said, closing the Impala's trunk and traveling around to the driver's side door. "I'll take Baby and park her somewhere safe; you take care of…that." He said shooting their new ride a disgusted glare.

A smile quirked at Sam's lips as he nodded. "Right. You want me to follow you, give you a lift back?"

"Nah, it's not far. I'll be back in twenty."

Sam nodded, waiting as Dean revved the engine of the 67' and pulled out the motel's parking lot onto the pavement – feeling a sense of melancholy as he watched their home drive away – before turning back to their new means of transportation, sorting out the mess they'd made of the trunk, locking it up for the night and heading into their motel room.

Flicking on the room's light and tossing the old duffel he'd found on the bed, he grabbed one of the beers Dean had brought from the mini fridge and started sifting through the bag's contents. Mostly moth-eaten clothes and out dated toiletries, some of which had started to leak inside the bag.

"So, garbage." He noted with a sigh, running his hands along the inside compartment, giving it one last once-over; pausing when his fingers passed over a flap in the material.

Curious, he slid his fingers down into the flap, feeling around for anything that may have been left behind.

At first, he thought it was empty, and he was ready to toss it in the bin with the rest of the junk they had emptied from the car; but as soon as his fingers brushed along the rough surface of an all too familiar object, he couldn't help but freeze.
He ran his fingers along the object, tracing its outline, checking to make sure that it was what he thought it was, that he wasn't just imagining it.

Slowly, almost wary, he grasped the item between his fingers and pulled it out.

Holding it up to the light, he felt his breath catch for a second. Dangling from his fingers, glinting unwittingly in the light was the amulet.

It had been, literally, years since he'd last seen the odd little trinket that had once meant so much between he and Dean. Not since Dean had tossed into the trash bin in the motel room after the whole debacle with the angels.

He stood, unmoving, in the same place he'd been when his older brother walked out the door. His eyes were transfixed on the waste basket, his heart breaking.

Swallowing down the hurt, he willed his feet to move and reached into the waste basket and gingerly grabbed the amulet from amongst the trash.

The amulet rested innocently in his palm – something that had once been a symbol of trust and brotherly love had been reduced to nothing. A meaningless little ornament that meant nothing (at least to one of them, apparently) and was left in the bin as its owner walked out and left it, left Sam, behind.

He felt his heart clench painfully again at the thought.

Because Dean had not only tossed the amulet; he had purposely and deliberately dropped the gift right where he thought it belonged. In the trash, amongst the garbage.

Sam clenched his jaw and shook off the painful thought as he slid the amulet into his pocket, grabbed his things, and headed out the door after his brother.

Dean may not want anything to do with it anymore, but that didn't mean it didn't hold anything for Sam still – even if they were just memories now.

Twisting the black chord in his fingers, he let the amulet spin and turn in the light, taking in every line and crevice. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about it, that he had let it escape his mind so completely.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised; after-all it hadn't been long after his and Dean's fall-out that everything had went to crap. The war progressed, their plans fell through, and their time was getting ready to run out.

And it had.

Too soon they were out of time and he had known what he had to do.

And from what he remembered of his time as his soulless-self, he highly doubted the first thing on his mind was the amulet.

And then came Hell memories and Crowley and power tripping angels. And then they lost Cas. Really, it shouldn't be a surprise that the amulet hadn't passed his thoughts in while. But still, he almost felt like he'd betrayed the charm, as silly as that sounded. Something that had once been so important (to him and Dean) had been tossed away, shoved in a duffel, left to rot for the past 2 years, and almost tossed in the trash.

Reaching up with his free hand, he let the pendent drop into his open and waiting palm. It was amazing, he thought, how one little object could carry that much meaning and heartache.

The weight of the pedant felt heavy on his hand as he stared. He hated to hide it, but he wasn't about to leave it out either, where Dean might find it. He could only imagine the fight that would ensue…before he tossed it out again.

With a sigh, he tucked it into the flap on his duffel.

Dean may have been ready to let go of it, but he wasn't.

And he still wasn't, Sam realized. Despite everything – all the times they had walked away, the fights, and the times he had let Dean down – he wasn't quite ready to let go of it yet. He'd bury it in his duffle again if he had to, but he wasn't quite ready to let go of that part of their life, wasn't ready to forget when they had still been brothers.

The creak of the door on its hinges was his only warning before he heard, "Sam?"

"Yeah?" He clenched the amulet into his palm, spinning on his heels to meet Dean with what he hoped was calm expression as he forced his posture to relax.

Dean's eyes narrowed, and Sam knew instantly he had failed.

He always did have trouble lying to Dean.

"What's goin' on?" Dean asked, taking a step forward even as his eyes roamed the room, searching for something that might be causing his sibling distress.

"Nothing." Sam shook his head, "Just emptying my bag – you were right, it was just junk. I'm gonna go trash it." He said, picking up the bag in question and, as nonchalant as possible, made to leave the room. (It'd give him a chance to sneak the amulet into his bag in the car.)

"Right." Dean agreed, though his eyes narrowed, not believing the cover story.

Sam offered him a smile and started to walk out around his brother.

Had he not been watching for it, he would have never noticed Dean's hand subtly reaching out to snag his sleeve as he walked by; but he did notice and he dodged, sliding out around his brother and making a move for the door again.

But while the move had been good and he had managed to slip past Dean the first time, Dean was better. Dean had been to teach him that move in the first place. And it just took one side-step from his brother to block his path, a hand on the sleeve of his flannel to snatch his arm and turn him to face the wall so Dean could pry the amulet from his hand.

Sam held his breath, not even wanting to turn to face his brother even as Dean let him go; he closed his eyes in resignation. Dean stayed silent and he felt like cringing; he could only imagine the look on his brother's face.

Bracing himself with a sigh, Sam turned, and sure enough he had been right.

Dean had the amulet by the chord, letting it dangle from his hand, as he stared in disbelief at the little object.

"Where'd you find this?" He asked, voice almost scarily quiet even as he didn't look up at Sam.

Sam ignored the question and, drawing up a strength he didn't really feel be possessed, instead held out a hand, "Give it back." He demanded in a firm tone.

Dean finally looked up at him, raising an eyebrow at the demanding tone, but stayed silent.

Sam licked at his lips, "Dean, please, just give it back."

"And if I don't?" He asked quietly, honestly curious, eyes flicking back to the little gold charm.

Sam sighed, "Dean. Please."

Dean looked back up at him again, eyes pausing at the anguished look on his brother's face.

"Sam—"

"Look, Dean, I know it might not mean anything to you anymore, but I still want it even if you don't. Just don't…please just give it back."

Dean blinked, opened his mouth to respond before falling short on words and shutting his mouth again before silently holding the amulet back out to his brother.

Sam snatched it back quickly, keeping it in a tight grasp.

They stood in a heavy silence – little brother staring at the amulet in his hand, big brother staring at the younger.

Swallowing thickly as he watched Sam roll the amulet across his palm over and over, Dean looked down, trying to find something, anything, to say to break the silence.

"Just so you know…I wouldn't have tossed it." He said finally, quietly, into the silence; Sam paused, letting the amulet rest, but still refused to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean clenched his jaw, bit refused to look away from his brother.

"I'm sorry." He added. He wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for; for taking the amulet, for pushing the issue when Sam had obviously wanted him to drop it, for tossing the amulet away in the first place.
Maybe for all three.

Sam finally looked up to meet his eyes; he held his brother's gaze with his expressive eyes for a long moment before nodding and turning away.

Dean swallowed thickly and turned away too.

Sam and his stupid puppy dog eyes. He had seen those eyes many times over the years, but rarely were they ever turned them on him like that.
And that just made Dean feel all ten kinds of low.
He was the big brother here; when Sam gave him that look he was supposed to make him feel better. Or go and find who had caused Sam to have that look in the first place and pound them for hurting his little brother.
He wasn't supposed to be the cause of it.

He could hear Sam's heavy steps plod across the room and the door shut with a snap behind his brother.

Dean scrubbed a weary hand over his brow, glancing over his shoulder at the empty motel room; he couldn't help but wonder what Sam was doing with the amulet.

He doubted Sammy would toss it, not with the way he had reacted when he thought Dean was going to chuck it in a bin again.

Dean winched; and wasn't that just wonderful?

Not that he blamed him, not after last time.

It's not like Sam knew how, after his anger had cooled, he had regretted tossing the amulet in the first place. He couldn't have known that Dean had turned around and called the motel to ask if they'd happened to find a little golden charm on a black cord when cleaning the room and if, just maybe they had kept it. And Sam certainly had no idea how Dean how beaten himself up for months after Sam died; how he had wanted to shoot himself for throwing out something that had one been something special between him and his, now dead, little brother.

He couldn't blame Sam for being wary of how he'd treat the gift; he could understand why Sam wouldn't trust him with it.

And wasn't that just ironic, when at one time Dean had been the only person he would trust with it.

Dean sighed. This was just turning into a freakin' fantastic day all around.

Sam didn't bring up the amulet again, and neither did Dean. Nor was he about too. Ever. Not until Sam did.

He'd wanted too, was tempted to ask a few times over the months that followed, but remembering the look on Sam's face that night (stupid puppy eyes. Really, he should be immune to them by now) always managed to stop him. He'd let Sam bring it up first.

But he never did. And then the (literal) hell of purgatory happened and, needless to say, the last thing on his mind in purgatory was that ugly shaped little charm.

Even after coming back the little charm failed to cross his mind – he had more important things to worry about – like vampires staying on the wagon and little brothers taking it upon themselves to complete Hell trials.

But even if he had forgotten, Sam never had.

Almost 3 years later

Ignoring the trail of wet footprints he was leaving behind (something Sam would be sure to complain about later he was sure), Dean grabbed a second towel off the rack and toweling his wet hair dry.

They'd been staying at the bat cave for a few months now, but Dean still basked in the wonder that was fresh, fluffy towels and a shower that actually had, not only water pressure, but actual hot water. Something most of the countless motels they'd stayed at over the years had lacked.

He ran the towel down over his face, grabbing his fresh set of clothes of the counter as he did. He needed to make a store run, get something in the cave that was actually edible (because apparently, according to Sam, souring milk and 2 week old beef jerky wasn't it). Not that the kid would actually eat whatever Dean bought, not unless he forced him.

That second trial had hit the kid hard and Sam's appetite (and his energy, strength, health…) had all taken a major nose dive.

Not that there was much Dean could do about that. Not really.

This wouldn't end until the trials ended. Because Sam, stubborn jerk that he was, wouldn't give up until he'd finished.

But Dean wasn't about to just sit back and let the kid go this alone, he'd do whatever he could do. Whatever it took to keep Sam around.

Even if his part had been reduced to checking for fevers and force feeding his little brother to keep him from starving.

Maybe if he got some of that all organic, leafy crap he seemed to like.

Mind distracted by ailing (and obstinate) little brothers, it wasn't until he was dried and dressed that he saw it. The little golden pendant on the worn black cord that dangled from the corner of the mirror, just waiting to be noticed.

Dean froze, staring at the little charm as it hung, staring back at him.

Blinking, he almost opened his mouth to yell to Sam, ready to ask, before closing his mouth again.

Because Sam already knew it was there; Sam had been the one to put it there. After the past few years, Sam had still saved it. Still kept it safe and hidden away.

Until now. Until he had, for whatever reason, decided to give it back to Dean.

Dean swallowed, reached out and pulling the cord off its resting place, wrapping it around his fingers.

He couldn't blame Sam either, he hadn't exactly been big brother material the past couple of years. But apparently that had changed – or at least Sam thought so.

And really, at the end of the day, that was counted anyway.

With a grin, he let the black cord untwist from his fingers and slipped it over his head.

As soon as the familiar weight settled around his neck and the pendent dangled down to lay against his chest it was if he had never been without it.
A small piece of him he hadn't realized he had been missing made its way back into place and brought with it a comforting, familiar feeling that he had long since thought he had lost forever.

He still didn't feel like his old self - not like the man that had worn the amulet day and night, who would have killed anyone who dared try and take the precious gift from him and then pry it from their cold dead fingers. He would never be that man again. He could never feel quite that whole again.
But for the first time in years, he felt closer to that older version of himself than he had ever thought would be possible.

He reached down to touch the small, golden pendant, running his fingers over the familiar shape, drinking in the feel of it.
The feeling of having the bond that amulet symbolized starting to form again; piece by piece working its way back and falling in place as it was meant to be.

So as far as Dean was concerned, life could throw at them whatever the hell it wanted – demons, leviathans, Hell trials – it didn't really matter. Dean had what he needed.

As long as he had his little brother, and said little brother knew Dean had his back no matter what, they'd be just fine.

Yay for finishing my second Supernatural story! :D

Although I admit, I'm rather prouder of my first than this one; this one gave me some trouble. But hopefully, you all still enjoyed it either way. :)

Please leave a review!