Disclaimer: "I am not the pot calling the kettle black." "How the hell does that mean no?!" "Haha, I don't know. It's for sh!ts and giggles."

A/N: Seriously… dunno what to write here. So I'm going to jump right in because y'all know the whole 'oh my gosh, I haven't written in a while, and now I am'. So this story… a bizarre story that has many firsts to it. One is that this is the first story that I've written and finished that is from the 'present' or close to present time in Supernatural world; as you all know I usually enjoy writing from when John was alive, and even Bobby now. The second first is a more important one; this is the first story where I've actually written Castiel. So I hope you guys enjoy my attempt at writing him! Read and review guys!


Title: In My Room
Genre: Umm… kindda bittersweet.
Summary: Sam starts unpacking his things in his new room, and finds some objects which he had completely forgotten about.

In My Room

Sam sighed as he sat on his bed.

His bed.

It still hadn't clicked into the youngest Winchester that he had his own room; just as he was sure it hadn't quite hit Dean. The two had found the old bunk house that the generations of hunters had used and it didn't take long to decide they would make the secluded place their home base. Hell, anything that didn't have rats crawling through the walls, or questionable stains on the sheets seemed like a five star resort. And best yet, they each had their own room; no having to put up with Dean's snoring or random mid-slumber conversations he was prone to having.

"And we don't have to live out of the car!"

Dean's excited realization had led to each brother's nesting in their separate rooms. Sam had carried his two duffle bags in with him that for the previous seven years had been permanently stored in the back seat of the Impala. They now sat beside Sam as he looked around his room. It was nice; a queen size bed, dresser, small desk and even a large bookshelf which held decades worth of collected volumes.

"I actually get to unpack," Sam smiled to himself.

It was something he hadn't had to do since he moved in with Jessica when he'd gone to Stanford. And with dumping out the first bag onto the bed, it was obvious that he usually just haphazardly shoved things into it without looking. Inside sat seven and a half years' worth of memories.

"Oh my God," Sam's breath caught in his throat as he picked up a small purple velvet box.

Inside sat a burnt and slightly warped ring; the red ruby still sparkling…

"Sam," Jess giggled, "What are you doing?"

Sam continued to cover his girlfriend's eyes as he led her along a cobblestoned walkway, "You'll see. We're almost there."

"If I open my eyes and we're in front of a bunch of your friends with silly string like last time, I am going to kill you Sam Winchester," Jess's playful threat only caused Sam's grin to widen.

"It's just the two of us, I promise," Sam finally stopped, "Okay. You ready?"

Jess nodded, and Sam removed his hands. Her mouth hung slightly agape as she stared around; they stood in front of a small table set up under softly glowing lanterns. On the table sat a vase with two red roses in it, and two settings with beautiful plates and red silk napkins. To the side of the table sat a wine cooler with a bottle of wine sitting inside, and several covered dishes.

"Oh Sam…" Jess breathed.

"Happy two year anniversary," Sam smiled kissing her softly on the cheek.

Jess smiled, "Our anniversary isn't for another three months almost."

"It's two years from the day I first met you," Sam laughed, "As I wandered lost down the halls."

It was Jess who moved in for a passionate kiss which Sam eagerly reciprocated. After moving apart, Sam reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a small purple velvet box.

"This is for you," he held one of her hands in his, and placed the box in the other.

Jess opened it and looked in awe down at the delicate ring with a small red ruby in the middle, "Oh my God… it's beautiful…"

"It's a promise ring," Sam leaned in close, "My promise to you… that I'll always love you…"

Surprised at the intense feelings the ring brought back, Sam placed it carefully inside the drawer of his end table, and continued to look at the different items scattered on his bed. Several large sweaters were tossed in a pile on the floor to be cleaned, and a stack of, as his brother called them, 'skin mags' were placed on his desk for safe keeping. When he returned to the bed, a happier smile came to Sam's face as he spotted another item he'd forgotten about.

"My knife," Sam picked up a small foldable knife.

A hunter never forgets their first knife…

"Sammy," John walked in to the living room where nine year old Sam sat watching Bugs Bunny.

It was times like this that John Winchester was reminded just how young his son was, and for a moment he considered putting off the talk he was going to have. When Sam turned off the tv and turned towards him, the look in his eyes told John that it was too late; his youngest had already seen too much to turn back to innocence.

"Yeah Dad?"

John sat on the coffee table in front of Sam, and held out a small box, "This is for you."

Sam frowned as he opened the box, trying to decide what the special occasion was to get a gift from his Dad. Inside the box was a closed knife with a cherry stained wooden handle. Inscribed in golden writing on it was the name 'Sam', and slowly in awe he held in his hand.

"Dad?" Sam whispered.

"It's your first knife Sam," John swallowed past his growing emotions, "It's something every hunter needs. I-I tried to hold out as long as possible with you son. But I knew the time would come when you'd know of everything in this world. It's time to start training you."

Sam had seen many knives in the past months along with guns and other weapons that his brother and Dad were using. They had stopped hiding things from him after he discovered John's journal, and though it scared Sam, he felt safer knowing that he had people to protect him.

Eyes still wide, Sam looked at his Dad, "Are you serious?"

"Yes," John took the knife and opened it, "Just be careful, and do exactly as your brother and I instruct you. This knife will save your life. And possible Dean or mine as well. So make sure you take care of it; I'll teach you how to clean it properly and make sure it's sharpened."

Sam took the knife back and looked at the blade, a small smile coming to his face, "It's a Winchester…"

John laughed, "I thought you'd like that. Now are you ready to start training?"

Sam took a deep breath, his eyes still on the knife, "Yessir…"

Sam looked carefully at the knife now; the wood was worn right down, and the gold inscription wasn't even visible anymore. His Dad had been right; the knife had saved their lives. More than once. It had long since gone into retirement as Sam got newer and more sturdy knives and other weapons, but still Sam knew he'd never throw it away. He used to dream when he was going out with Jess that he'd have a son one day and he'd pass it down to him as a family heirloom.

"Someday… maybe…" Sam half smirked as he placed the knife next to the ring.

The next item which sat on the bed wouldn't have been second glance worthy to any other person, however caused Sam to laugh loudly. He heard a call from Dean, and with a shout of 'it's nothing!', Sam picked up a purple sparkled hairbrush.

"Haha!" Sam grinned holding onto a new folding knife in one hand, and a handful of Playboy magazines in the other hand, "Thanks Dean."

"Happy birthday," Dean reciprocated the smile from his relaxed position on the hotel bed as he slowly drank a beer.

"I didn't think you'd remember," Sam commented as he looked more closely at his knife; figuring a better time to inspect his other gift would be when his brother wasn't sitting six feet beside him.

"Are you kidding man?" Dean laughed, "Until the time you were fricken ten, you'd remind me the entire month of April that your birthday was coming up. I think the date is now engraved in my head."

Sam was about to comment when another, softer, voice spoke up.

"Sam."

Gasping, Sam turned around to see Castiel standing directly behind him, "Damn it Cass!"

Castiel frowned, "What?"

"We're getting like an angel radar or some bells for you," Dean was the one who spoke.

"I don't understand," Castiel frowned further, "I spoke up when I arrived."

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but with a slightly bemused smile, Sam cut him off, "What do you got for us Cass?"

Castiel held out a small brown paper bag towards Sam, "This is for you Sam."

Sam stared a moment before tentatively taking the bag, "What is it?"

"A gift," Castiel stated this like it was obvious, and after a moments silence elaborated, "It is customary on earth to give someone a gift on the anniversary of their birth?"

"Yeah it is," Sam spoke stunned, "But you didn't have to get me anything."

"Oh," Castiel half held out his hand, "Do you want me to take it back?"

Dean was watching fully entertained at the events unfolding. He knew that when he told Castiel the previous week that it was his brother's birthday coming up, that it would be an interesting event.

Sam awkwardly laughed, "No, it's fine Cass. Err… thank you."

Cautiously Sam opened the bag, all the while Dean and Castiel watching. Sticking his hand in, and dearly hoping that nothing was going to attack him, Sam wrapped his hand around something smooth, and curiously pulled out the object. Dean's sputtered laughter reached Sam's ears before anything else registered, and the younger brother was vaguely aware of the feeling of beer splattering the back of his head.

"Oh," was all Sam could think to say as he stared down at his hand.

He held onto a medium sized purple sparked hair brush. It was one that Sam had noticed before in shopping stores in the girls section; usually sitting beside the barrettes with bows on them and the fancy headbands. Dean continued to choke on his laughter and beer, and looking up at a very confused looking angel, Sam struggled to think of what to say.

"Thank you…" Sam wanted nothing more than to smack his brother over the head with the object, but he restrained himself.

"You don't like it," Castiel stated, and air of sadness in his voice.

"No, no…" Sam cleared his throat, "Umm… what—uh, what made you pick this out?"

"The lady at the store told me that it was the perfect gift for someone who has lots of hair," Castiel paused a moment, "I don't understand what's wrong."

"Nothing Cass, nothing, just-" Sam turned harshly to the bed behind him, "Dean!"

The elder Winchester's face was bright red, and tears rolled down his face. At the stern bellow of his name Dean breathed deep, and continued to watch silently.

"I can take it back Sam," Castiel held out his hand again.

"No Cass, it's okay," Sam gave him a genuine smile, "It's just what I needed."

Dean continued to relive the moment for several weeks of Sam opening his gift of a purple sparkled hairbrush. But little did anyone know, nor would Sam ever admit it, but the brush had come in handy more than once.

Sam made sure to put the brush in his dresser drawer beneath some underwear, knowing how much Dean would tease him if he knew that he still kept it.

The next fifteen minutes went by smoothly for Sam as he continued to sort through random papers; keeping himself amused as he looked at the rising price of gas on the receipts. With a cringe, the hunter looked over at a slowly growing pile of dirty laundry in the corner, and with a sigh Sam finally saw the end as he got to the last pile of unsorted clothing. Lifting away an armful of clothes that he hadn't worn in ages, Sam's eyes caught the glint of something dull and metallic shinning briefly off of the light. It took him a moment to realize what it was, and with the realization, the young Winchester's heart skipped a beat. Sam dropped the clothes down onto the floor, and slowly ran his finger along the black cord that lead to the object.

It was Dean's necklace…

Sam watched, heartbroken as his big brother stood briefly by the hotel door and let his necklace drop into the garbage can. The clunk echoed in the deafening silence as Dean walked wordlessly out the door. Sam stood and stared as a single tear fell down his face. Everything was crumbling around them. Castiel had given up, and now Dean had too.

"No," Sam whispered as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, "No… we can do this."

Grabbing his own bag from the bed, Sam walked to the door and paused. He looked down at the garbage and saw the amulet staring back at him, and knew, deep down, that someday it would be needed again. Bobby had given it to Sam when he was nine to give to their father; saying it was important and that it would protect him. Instead Sam had given it to the person who had always been there for him; Dean. Since that moment everyone Sam had ever cared about and loved died. Everyone had left him but Dean, and if the younger brother could believe in one thing, he had to believe the necklace Bobby had given him when he was a child had something to do with it.

Checking quickly to make sure that neither Dean nor Castiel was watching, Sam bent down and picked up the necklace from the trash. Quickly he unzipped part of his bag and shoved it inside.

Feeling his heartbeat quickening, Sam held the heavy necklace in his hand. He had completely forgotten about that day, and that he'd decided to pick up what Castiel and Dean were so quick to throw away. Dean had no idea that he'd taken the necklace, never mind that he'd kept it all this time. Looking over his shoulder to make sure that Dean hadn't suddenly appeared, Sam went to his end table and pulled open the drawer. Inside was a small box that held trinkets that Dean usually didn't find of interest and so didn't snoop through.

"Someday you'll want this back Dean," Sam whispered placing the object securely inside "You'll need it."

The End.