To Have Loved and Lost

Sam never knew what it was like to have a mom.

He would stare at her picture for hours and try his hardest to remember even the smallest thing about her – her smile, the smell of her perfume, the sound of her laugh – but he had been too young when she died. He had no memories of her.

It made him so jealous of Dean sometimes. Dean remembered their mom. He remembered living in a normal home, having a normal life. He remembered when their parents were happy. He remembered when Dad was a mechanic and a family man, not a hunter bent on revenge. He remembered when they were a family. He got to spend four years in a world free from fear and monsters, and that was more than Sam would ever have.

For a long time, Sam thought that Dean was lucky.

But when he looked deep into his brother's eyes, he realised how wrong he was.

Sam had never known his mom.

Dean had been grieving for her since he was four years old.

He wore a tough-guy exterior with his sarcasm and his lame jokes and his give-'em-hell attitude, but every so often Sam was able to catch a glimpse of the pain beneath the mask.

At the tender age of four, Dean's whole world had come crashing down around him. He watched his mother burn to death and his father fall to pieces. He learned that bad things happen to good people and that monsters were real. He learned to be afraid, and to be angry. He left his childhood and his innocence behind and grew up way too fast, taking on responsibility for himself and for his baby brother. He made the promise that he would look after Sammy and watched his father leave on hunting trips, knowing that he might never come back. He faced the fear and the loss and the loneliness alone.

Dean fought back his tears and reminded himself every single day that his mom would have wanted him to be brave.

He never let any of that show. Dean smiled for Sam and told him magical tales of a woman with golden hair, beautiful eyes and a loving smile who gave them warm hugs and soft kisses, told them bedtime stories and sang soft lullabies, made the best sandwiches and baked the yummiest pies, and loved her children more than anything in the whole universe. Dad could never talk about Mom, but Dean told Sam everything he wanted to know about her, even though every dredged up memory had to feel like tearing open an old wound over and over again.

Losing a loved one is something you never get over. You learn to live with it, find a way to function and do your best to make it through each day, but the pain never leaves.

The absence of his mother was an ache Sam felt keenly. He wished he could have had the chance to know her, to love her, to miss her. But, in a way, he was the lucky one. He would never know the heavy weight of grief that had Dean carried with him since the day Mom died. The grief he would always carry.

What was worse was that Sam could see how much his brother was hurting and there was nothing he could do to make it better. Dean would never talk about it. He would never let Sam in. He would never stop wearing the mask. He would never admit that he was not okay. He would never admit that he missed her. He would never let Sam offer any sort of comfort for a loss he would claim was ancient history. He would never cry.

So Sam did the only thing he could. He loved his brother with all his heart and made sure Dean knew it. Even if it did make him whinge about 'chick flick moments'.

It was worth it to see Dean's eyes soften and the slightest crinkle of a smile appear on his face. Because for a second, just for a second, the pain had eased. Dean was happy.

And that was all Sam had ever wanted.