Confetti it's a Parade Book 2

The Samulet

Cursing as you stubbed your toe on another big box, you hopped up and down on one foot. "Guess this means I better clean it out." Pulling the offending box from the bottom of the closet, you tossed it onto the bed, before grabbing another, and another. Soon all that was left was your clothes, along with Dean's flannels and a layer of dust bunnies in the back.

With the radio playing, you began going through the boxes, making a pile to take to the thrift store, another pile for the trash. Things you had long forgotten about brought a smile to your face. Like the tickets to the Rock Concert you and Dean had gone to last year. Or the picture of the three of you as you dragged them through a zoo. Reminders of happy times.

Once you were done with your boxes, you turned to Dean's. He only had two, and they were covered in a thick layer of dust. Opening one box up, you saw it was full of old records, along with a scarred leather jacket. Picking up the buttery soft coat, you hugged it to your for a moment before sitting it off to the side.

Opening up the other box, you saw a mixture of things inside. Pictures and papers. Old knives and a gun, along with a couple of trophies. Picking up the wrestling one, you were surprised to see his name carved beside the number one. "I didn't know you wrestled," you whispered, setting it down and picking up the next one. This one was for soccer, and it had Sam's name on it, from about the time he was seven years old.

Beside them lay a small purple ribbon, one that you remembered wearing when you had first met Dean. Reaching down to pick it up, you noticed a small necklace off to the side. The cord braided leather, a bronze amulet was tucked down underneath the trophies. Pulling it free, you recognized it from early pictures of Dean.

Closing your eyes for a moment, picturing Dean as the young, carefree man, you slipped the necklace over your head, feeling a little bit closer to Dean. Missing him, and wishing he was back at the bunker with you.

Taking a deep breath, the necklace somewhat calming, you left the mess behind to get a couple of garbage bags. Your bare feet quiet on the tiled floor, you crept into the library to see Sam with his head between his hands, sitting at one of the tables. "Sam, is everything okay?"

Sitting up quickly, knocking over a book in his haste, he stared at you, wide eyed. "Sure, of course? Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because we've had a couple of rough months," You answered, sitting next to him. His hair was disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, and you wondered how much sleep he was actually getting. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm the one that should be worried about you," he argued. "After all, you're...Wait! Where did you find that?"

It took you a moment to realize he was talking about the necklace. "Well, I decided to finally go through the things in the closet. I found it in one of Dean's boxes. By your soccer trophy I might add. I saw him wearing it in a couple of pictures, and I felt closer to him."

"I still can't believe he's gone," Sam whispered, his eyes bleak as he toyed with the tip of the amulet. "I always thought he'd always be around."

"Me too," you answered, trying not to cry.

"I just can't believe it was flying that did him in. After all these years, his fear finally came true," Sam mumbled, brushing back a tear.

"I hate that it was because of me," you admitted, finally letting the tears fall. "That he flew home in that storm just because I wanted him home with me."

"Y/N, you were giving birth! He was going to move mountains to make it back for the birth of his baby girl."

"Well, he never did," you sniffled. "But at least I have a couple of things to remember him by. Do you mind if I wear this? It makes me feel closer to him."

"I don't mind," Sam told you. "Did he ever tell you how he ended up with that necklace?"

"No, he never talked about it," you said, sitting down next to your best friend. Without Sam, you don't think you would have survived these past few months. Losing your husband and gaining a baby had been extremely stressful. "But I'd like to hear about it. If you can't, I understand."

"No, I think he'd like you to know," Sam said, brushing his hand over his mouth. "It all started around Christmas time in this cheasy hotel room. Dean was trying to make sure that I had a good Christmas, even though Dad wasn't around that much."

You settled in, watching as the tears dried up in Sam's eyes while he told the story. Both of you using it to feel closer to Dean while your three month old daughter slept a couple of rooms away.