Title: Remember Me

Author: Reluctant-Daughter

Rating: rated R for language

Category: Supernatural One shot

Disclaimer: © of WB33 and Eric Kripke who own all of the show Supernatural.

Claimer: I own Dean and Sam's nicknames, as well as most of these memories. The plot is mine also. Take it and I'll send my evil mummy plot bunnies after you!

Summary: Dean reminisces his childhood one night as he tries to go to sleep.

Idea on: Sunday, May 14, 2006

Started on: Sunday, May 14, 2006

Finished on: Friday, May 26, 2006

Key: Memory scene

Scene change !

Beginning and end of story. -----

Dark, earthy hair was chaotic from the constant tossing and turning from the older Winchester boy. He just couldn't seem to sleep. His motel bed was all right and all, but slumber just evaded him. He glanced over to his younger, sleeping brother. It seemed that not even a stampeding herd of elephants could wake his little brother. He smiled lightly at his own joke; then let out a wide yawn suddenly. Dean Winchester groaned and laid flat on his back, both arms behind his head. He closed his eyes half the way, allowing suppressed memories to flow back to him.

"Good times, good times…" he muttered softly.


A small, three-year-old boy sat on a swing set laughing brightly. Behind him his mother stood ready to push him, and in front of the Kansas boy was his father joking around and acting like his son had kicked him.

"Hey Dean-Bean, what would you say if you had a little brother or sister?" Mary Winchester, the boy's mother, asked with a bright smile.

"Could I teach 'im how to play ball like Daddy's doing to me?"

"Maybe. But, would you like it?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" the three-year-old Dean Winchester cried pumping both of his little fists into the air.

Both of his parents laughed at their son's antics as the boy squirmed in the swing.

"Hold on tightly, dear."

"'Kay mommy!"

Mary pushed her only son gently and watched him shoot up towards his father. John Winchester groaned and held his nose, making his son cackle with glee.

"Kick him once for me Dean-Bean!"

John looked at his wife in shock as his son pretended to kick him.

"Oooow! My eye!" The man cried clutching his right eye as he chuckled deeply.


Dean smiled vaguely at his memory. He heard Sam mutter something in his sleep about Angelina Jolie, and bit his lower lip to keep from hooting loudly. Sam smacked his lips loudly twice and tossed an arm up into the air, adding more hysteria to the wide-awake brother. Dean sat up and rummaged around of his camera. Finding the blasted thing, Dean took several shots of Sam in his sleeping lunacy.

"Blackmail, little bro, blackmail."

He couldn't stop grinning as he pulled out his phone and recorded Sam sleep-talking.

"What'd he say 'gain? Susan B. Anthony is a coin!" Sam cried and flung his raised arm around in a circle, "No, no, no. Julia Roberts is hot, I guess."

Dean felt tears streaming down his face as he kept trying to hold in his laughter. He couldn't believe his little brother was doing this! It must've been some good dream to have the twenty-two-year-old talking and nearly sleepwalking. Sam smacked his lips once more and he was silent once again.

"Sam Winchester, Saturday, February the twelfth, four in the morning."


Dean peered into the hospital nursery with his father holding him up.

"I can't see him, Daddy!"

"Hold on, Dean-Bean, hold on…"

A tall, red-haired male nurse stepped into the nursery carrying a small, wailing bundle. The man rocked the load gently, humming a soothing tune. He softly placed the babe into a carrier with its name on it and wheeled over to the father and now big brother.

"There he is Daddy! That's Sammy, huh?"

"Yep, that's our Sam."

"Did I look like that when I was a baby?" Dean asked, waving and tapping on the glass, getting the baby's attention quickly.

The small, bald, infant stopped wailing and thrashing and cooed at his older brother; automatically knowing that the elder boy would protect him.

"Yes, you did. But I think you were a little bit uglier." John joked.


"I'm just joking son. Well, look at that. He knows his big brother."

"Yeah! I'm gonna be a good brother, right Daddy?"

John nodded his head in agreement with his eldest son.


Dean grinned slyly at that memory. Sam had been an ugly baby, all right. But, now, the kid looked as handsome as Dean was, well maybe not as handsome, but close enough. Dean smiled and put away all of his blackmailing equipment and laid back down on his back. The twenty-six-year-old let out a yawn of epic proportions and sighed, closing his eyes fully. He allowed all of his memories swoop down on him and lull him to a some-what relaxed state. He hadn't thought of these memories in ages. He then realized that only a few good memories had stayed out in his psyche. Sure, the night his mother was murdered had been etched into his brain, but the camping hunt had been one of the worst.


John Winchester sighed as his youngest son, Sam who was seven, whined once more about not being normal.

"Aw, cm'on Sammy-Sam, being normal is over-rated."

"You're just saying that 'cause you heard it off of TV."

"Shut UP! I didn't!"

Dean, who was eleven, had his younger brother in a tight headlock, and was moving his head around to keep from being nailed in the head by Sam's flailing limbs.

"Let go! That's unfair Dean!"

"Too bad!"


Dean and Sam stopped fighting instantly; Dean let go of Sam swiftly- nearly knocking the boy down. Both looked apprehensive at their father as he stood up, tossing another log on the fire. The father sat down and looked at his sons square in the eyes.

"I've got a job for both of you, and YOU TWO alone. There's a camp up ahead being haunted. I want you two to pose as campers and exorcise it, okay?"




Dean smiled at the departing memory. Both he and Sam had gone to that camp as requested. They had told ghost stories, listened to them; spent time like real campers did, and Dean had even made their father a wallet. But the whole time there - the camp was being haunted by a dead camper- whom was bullying and possessing the other campers. Sam had never wanted to leave; but that was before he had almost been possessed himself. At least Dean had been prepared for it. He had told Sam afterwards that he had been great bait; earning himself a few good right hooks to the stomach. Dean shook his head and sighed, closing his eyes and falling asleep for two minutes before opening his eyes and growling.

"Damn insomnia…!" he snarled and rolled over seeing Sammy sitting up, groggily.

"Hey, Dean. You still up?"


Sam yawned loudly and blinked a few times, "Sorry that you haven't slept in a while… I've got some sleeping pills if you want 'em."

"OF COURSE I WANT THEM! Damn, Sammy, I haven't slept well in a week and you ask that now!"

"Well, sorry for not coming to your aid at once. Here. Catch." Sam snapped as he threw the bottle at his brother's head.

Dean caught the bottle and watched as Sam fell back asleep, Dean took the prescribed dose of medicine and sighed, relaxing so the remedy could begin its work.


"Hey, Dean?"

"What Sam?"

A ten-year-old Sam stood in front of Dean's doorway, blocking the fourteen-year-old's escape. Dean stood, cheeks flaring in annoyance as Sam just stood there.

"What was Mom really like?" Sam asked, causing Dean to fall mute for a moment.

"Well…" Dean began as he took his mature, little brother's arm and pulled him inside before closing the door. Sam wriggled in his grasp until he was seated on Dean's bed.

"Well, Mom was a goddess, really. She was always so kind and attentive of us. And-"

"And it's not fair!"

"What? What's not fair, Sam?" Dean looked at Sam and saw tears rolling down his cheeks as he attempted to glare at Dean.

"You got to know Mom and I didn't! Why couldn't she have died after I was a bit older or something?"

"Oh, Sammy… She couldn't… She couldn't cause it was her time to leave us. Mom was like that. She believed in that stuff." Dean muttered and sat down next to Sam, draping an arm over the smaller one's shoulders, "You would have loved her. She was so… Gentle, like you, Sammy." Sam pushed Dean's arm off of him and stood up, anger drifting off of him in waves.

"I hate you and Dad! It's not fair you two knew Mom! And I hate her too!" Sam screamed and flew out of the room and into his own.


Dean shook off the feeling from the memory. It had been the first time Sam had ever told him he hated him and their parents. He glanced at the clock, which blared the time, 4:45 AM in bright, large, red numbers. Dean closed his eyes and felt sleep slip over him and sing her sweet lullaby.


Dean stood in front of his mother's grave. His eyes and head were lowered as the white carnations fell from his hand.

"Sorry Mom. I don't think I can take over the parental role for Sammy anymore. He's a big boy now… An adult, really." Dean stated softly as he crouched down next to the grave, placing the flowers next in their rightful place. He glanced up to see his mother, smiling lovingly at him.

"You let him know I loved him, right Dean?"

"I always did."

"Then you did enough, baby. He knows me through you… And that's all he really needed…"

Dean nodded his head and smiled before Mary left, waving her goodbyes. Dean turned from the grave and sighed, staring at Sam near the car.

"Cm'on already! I wanna get out of here!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming…"


"Dean… Dean… DEAN! GET UP!"

"WHA? What's going on?"

"What's going on is, it's one in the afternoon and you're still asleep!"

Dean raised his head and pulled the pillow out from beneath it. He threw it hard at Sam and an effective grunt and slam echoed through the room.

"Shut UP! I'm trying to sleep!"



"Good night Dean."