What We Remember

Summary: Sam thought it was hilarious, Dean being freaked out by a teddy bear… until he found out why. Set in season two.

Pairing/s: None.

Warnings: Strange fear? I mean, it's teddy bears. Dunno what else.

Disclaimers: I don't own Supernatural.


Sam thought it was hilarious. It really was hilarious according to him. His bad-ass big brother, the Dean Winchester, gets upset over a fucking teddy bear. If he laughed any harder, he might get stomach cramp.

"Very funny," Dean said tightly from behind the steering wheel. "Now can you stop?"

"Your face…" Sam gasped. "You should've seen your face!"

"As I said, very funny. Now stop it."

"Hell no. You're always making fun of me because of clowns, to think only now I know you're afraid as something equal ridiculous!"

"I'm not afraid!"

"Really now?" Sam managed to stop laughing and sat up straighter. "You didn't have any mercy on me with clowns, why should I be merciful to you?"

"Look," Dean said and it was in his quiet, rage-filled voice. Sam shut up. "You can laugh all you want about it later, I don't care. Just. Don't. Do. It. In. Front. Of. Me."

Sam glanced over at Dean and saw his jaws were tightly clenched, a muscle twitched every now and then, and he sighed.

"Fine," he said. "I won't laugh so you hear it. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," the older man said but there was no change of his voice. If anything, he looked even tenser.

Sam snorted softly and turned to look out the window. What was stuck up Dean's ass today? It had looked hilarious, the way Dean's eyes had widened and he had scrambled backwards from the teddy bear back at the grocery store. Sam regretted at first that he had not bought the thing, but now with the steely look at his brother's face, he feared what Dean would have done to him if he presented the stuffed animal up Dean's face later.

Better not risk it.

"Dude, what's up with you and teddy bears?" he asked.

"Don't start," Dean cut off.



They could do that forever.

"Dean…" Perhaps it worked with a bit of whine.


Nope, Dean's worked up a resistance to Sam-whining. Damn.

"Come on, man, you know why I don't like clowns! It's only fair it's the other way around too!" Straight to the point then?

"Sam, no."

No idea to get Dean to talk when his hands tighten on the steering wheel and Sam really wonders what's stuck up his ass today.

"Alright, alright," he said because Dean wants a verbal ending to it. But this isn't the ending. He will figure out why.


It was harder than he thought. As soon as they came to a motel Dean shut himself in the bathroom, and when he emerged he headed straight to bed, lay down and pulled the covers over his head, cutting off all talking. Sam felt a bit more than just insulted.

His brother could tease him, but he couldn't tease his brother?

He thought for a bit, and then smiled. There was a store nearby, and it was still pretty early so it was probably still open.

He waddled up a paper and tossed it at the Dean-shape. Said shape grunted when feeling the gentle weight, at least willing to listen to Sam unless he started talking about teddy bears.

"Going out for a walk," Sam said and saw Dean relax a bit. Oh, you just wait… "Might be a bit late, who knows? Go to sleep."

For once Dean doesn't complain about that, and by the time Sam returned two hours later, his big brother is deeply asleep. He looks younger, with the way the covers is up to his chin and a hand curled loosely to his face, soft breathing.

Sam however, he grinned evilly and put the newly-bought teddy bear carefully on the nightstand, taking off his shoes carefully before redressing for bed and getting in. He was tired, but maybe he would wake up before Dean did. And if he did, he got to see the reaction on his brother's face.


Dean was dragged from sleep from a insistent nagging at the back of his head, telling him something was really fucked up and he should really wake up, but then again maybe it was better if he rolled over when he got up and that he didn't open his eyes until he reached the bathroom but that was just ridiculous right?

So he opened his eyes.

And very much so regretted it.

Shiny black eyes stared into his. The teddy bear was brown, a lopsided hat on its head and looking just adorable. But not for Dean. All he could see was fire, felt the heat on his face as if it hadn't been twenty-three years since he saw it and suddenly he couldn't breathe and he gasped, desperate for air.

Sam was having a good dream when he heard the first gasp. Frowning, he moved a bit on the bed when the gasp was followed by another, and then a choke, and now Sam recognized that as being his brother and he was up the bed.

He would have laughed if Dean had been scrambling backwards from the teddy bear, a typical 'Oh, I'm so scared' expression on his face but he wasn't laughing now. Not now, when Dean was lying on his bed and choking to death just staring at that stuffed animal, all colour lost and eyes filled to the brim with fear, and a horrible twisting pain.

Within a moment Sam was up and on Dean's bed, getting him up and shouted:

"Dean, snap out of it!"

Dean snapped out of it. Shut up with his gagging and choking and gasping, just sat there and stared into Sam's eyes with large eyes.

"Dude…" Sam said, almost choked on his own breath. "What the hell?"

"Hot," Dean suddenly mumbled, began thrashing. "'S too hot, Sammy, lemme go… too hot, we gotta go out now…"

"Out? What? Now? Dude, it's not even five in the morning and it's freezing in here! Dean, stop fighting me, just tell me what's wrong!"

"She's burning, that's what wrong!" Dean shouted. "I can still see her on the ceiling, burning, and all those fucking stuffed animals she loved burned with her, all of them with their fucking black eyes, I fucking can't stand it, lemme go!"

Sam knew what his brother was talking about and suddenly felt sick. He ripped the teddy bear down, threw it underneath his own bed and grabbed onto the flailing Dean, they fell to the bed and Sam managed to push Dean into his arms, holding Dean's head with his hand, letting the older man's forehead rest against his neck.

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry," he muttered quietly into Dean's spiky hair, easing a hand along the trembling back and Dean took a deep, shuddering breath, not quite a sob and slowly, very slowly relaxed. "Yeah, that's it De, lemme take care of you now, I'm sorry, shouldn't have done it, was stupid, so stupid…"

"You didn't know," Dean managed. "Should've just spitted it out, should've, should've…"

"I pushed too hard," Sam said back. "I'm sorry."

Dean pushed himself closer, if that was possible, and hugged Sam's torso, seemingly not caring if what they were doing was practically cuddling with each other, he just wanted to hold on and never let go.

"Stupid," he muttered. "Stupid to be scared of that."

"No," Sam said, and pulled back so he could look Dean in the eyes. "No, that isn't stupid at all. You were just a kid, and you saw your mom burn on a ceiling. Not stupid at all, it's okay to be scared."

Dean simply pushed his forehead to Sam's collarbone, he didn't feel much like talking and Sam got that message, simply held Dean and ran a hand through the short hair, rubbing his fingers along the scalp and the older man sighed in pleasure as they eased his throbbing headache.

"Where izzit?" he slurred out a little while later, when he was almost asleep again.

"Not where you can see it," Sam reassured. "I'll throw it away later, just go back to sleep."

Dean considered this and let his eyes close fully, body growing limp and Sam's gentle rubbing on his back kept his mind away from thoughts of fire, burning and something he had lost forever.

The younger of them kept on rubbing Dean's back long after the man had fallen asleep again, staring at the door of their room, wondering just how stupid he could be. He knew his own fear of clowns had been triggered by a traumatic experience, why wouldn't Dean had suffered through the same?

"Stupid," he whispered to himself. "God, you're a fucking idiot, Sam Winchester. A right-down fucking idiot." He clutched Dean tighter, it was probably his last chance in a long time to get to comfort his brother and he would take full advantage of it.

He pushed back old memories, memories where they had been so comfortable with each other to sleep in the same bed, not caring if people would look at it wrong. Dean was not the same now; he didn't to chick-flick moments.

Sam had to snigger quietly at that. This, if anything, was hugely chick-flick. Feeling his brother's breath on his neck, he didn't really complain. He had never been the one against hugging. He guessed Dean had gotten used to be alone after Sam left.

Plus he had always hated talking about emotions and how he was feeling.

"Chokin'… me…" Dean mumbled, which startled Sam more than just a tiny bit, and his grip on Dean loosened a bit. "Tha's better… you big girl."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam said with a smile and stroke the older man's hair. "You're the one cuddling me."




"Whatever, bro. Don't worry, if anyone asks I say I had a nightmare."

Dean snorted at that and turned his head a bit, his cheek now on Sam's shoulder before his grip went lax as he fell asleep again. Sam only held him tighter, and wondered whether to bury the teddy bear or just simply burn it.

Either way, it was going away.

And for the record… anyone who in the future closed in on Dean with a stupid teddy bear Sam was gonna rip apart. Literally.

After all, what don't you do for your brother?


Alright, really strange one-shot.

And just so you know, I don't have a fear of teddy bears but those freaking clowns… they're not normal. Maybe my folks shouldn't have let me see Stephen King's It when I was, what, seven years old? Kinda leaves a mark behind…

Freaking clowns.

Until another time,