Chapter One: Midnight Memories
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural, not me, etc.
An 8-year-old Dean awoke to the soft sound of sobbing which, Dean discovered as he rolled over to check it out, was coming from a small figure underneath the covers in the bed next to his. Dean groaned as he got out of bed and walked the five or so feet to the other bed.
An older brother's work is never done he thought to himself.
"Hey, Sam. Sammy?" he tried to pry the covers off his baby brother, but Sam held them over himself tightly.
Jeez, he's strong, Dean thought as he gave one final yank and successfully pulled the comforter off to reveal a red eyed, tear streaked four-year-old face.
"Another nightmare?" Dean asked.
"Yeah. It was real bad," Sam said, wiping the tears off his face, trying to sound strong in front of his older brother.
"You want to tell me what it was about?"
"It was about Mom. I saw her, Dean, and she was on fire! And…she was on the ceiling, and there was blood. I don't remember that night, Dean, how come I'm dreaming about it? And why would Mom be on the ceiling if it was just an electrical fire?"
Dean was taken aback by this, expecting a nightmare more along the lines of an evil clown or something under his bed, knowing full well his brother didn't know about the real dangers out there. But what he was taken even more aback by was how would Sam know Mom was on the ceiling? Only Dad knew that, until he told me, that is. But Dean was determined to keep the tough older brother face on for Sam.
"It was just a nightmare, Sammy. Mom died in an electrical fire, she wasn't on the ceiling or anything, I promise."
This calmed Sam down immediately, pushing any thoughts out of his mind that his nightmare was real. Because if Dean said that Mom died in an electrical fire, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that that was how she had died.
"Hey Dean? Can you tell me about Mom?"
Dean immediately felt less tense, knowing that he had taken Sam's mind off his nightmare. Dean pushed his little brother to the right side of his bed as he sat down on the left side.
"She was great. She would always have breakfast for me when I came down from bed, everything you could imagine, bacon, eggs, pancakes, waffles- sometimes she'd even sneak me one of her extra-special chocolate milkshakes. She had a secret recipe for them or something, she'd never tell anyone what it was. And she was always smiling, I remember that. Smiling and laughing…Sometimes if I was just laying in bed in the morning, and she thought Dad and I were asleep, I'd hear her singing to the radio," Dean paused for a moment, suddenly getting a feeling of emptiness as he remembered her.
"Go on, Dean. Tell me more," Sam urged him on.
"Well, I don't remember a whole lot. I do remember, though that whenever I got scared or had nightmares, she'd be there to calm me down," Dean looked over at his baby brother, and immediately felt awful for having said this. "I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry that you never knew her."
Sam sat in silence for a moment, until he finally spoke, "That's okay. At least you can tell me all about her."
This, was too much, even for Dean. As if remembering his Mom weren't enough, he had to deal with the guilt of Sam not even having memories of their mom, all in one night. Dean felt tears coming to his eyes and quickly got out of Sam's bed, not wanting to let Sam know that he had shown any vulnerability.
"Now go to sleep, jerk," Dean grinned, putting his tough-guy face back on.
"Okay, stupid," Sam smiled, plopping his head down onto his pillow.
Eighteen years later, a 26-year-old Dean smiled at this memory. He glanced down at the now grown up Sammy, asleep in the passenger seat of the Impala, jerking every few minutes at a new nightmare plaguing him.
"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry," Dean spoke quietly to himself, feeling a tear roll down his cheek as he sped up the car, going to their next destination.
Author's Note: I made this story at a time where Sam doesn't know about the paranormal (but Dean does) and he is still under the belief that their mom died in an electrical fire. I know that he probably knew at this point in his life, but, hey, this is my story. Oh, and also I know Sam's dialogue is not how a four-year-old really talks (or, well my three younger brothers didn't; but I wouldn't say they're good representation) but Sam is supposed to be really smart, so I just came up with this. (NOTE FOR AFTER STORY: For anyone who didn't notice, the "Go to bed, jerk" "Okay, stupid" was my tribute to the actual chick-flick moment line in the pilot of "Okay, jerk" "Bitch" except coming from an eight and four year old this time)