But still, like dust, I'll rise


word count: 100

For Meazrael's birthday – hope you had a great day, my friend!

Warnings: none

Summary: It's Dean's birthday, and I'd like to think that at least once while Sam was at Stanford, Dean got to celebrate one of his birthdays with his little brother.


Whiskey glows deepest amber, catching the light and shooting shards of gold and orange dancing across the walls. Dean absently turns the glass in his hand, his mind strangely empty and serene.

Dad's on a job who-the-fuck-knew-where. Sam's safe, geeking out with his new study-buddies… and Dean? He's in a student bar, wondering whether to order another twenty-year-old malt to celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday, or to challenge the loud jock student at the pool table to a match that was liable to end with a brawl.

A warm hand and familiar voice forestalls both options and his heart leaps.

"Dean?"


A/N the title is a shout out to the glorious Maya Angelou, who sadly died yesterday. It's from her poem Still I Rise