driftfleet | video. the giving tree.

[Sam's very much content with what he got from the giving tree. But of course, in the calmness of the world around them, he can't help but wonder more on everyone else — his memory box sits on his bed, some of the contents sitting outside of the box, some of which are pictures of his family, of odd things like a fake amulet, and a retirement home brochure. There's more in there just waiting to be dug through for the sake of nostalgia, but first...]

ATTACHMENT: THE_GIVING_TREE

You know, being a Silverstein fan, one of my favorite books growing up was The Giving Tree.

I don't really know why. I mean, it's a depressing story, you know? Hell, it messed with me as a kid, I mean real little, and I remember asking why that tree kept giving up parts of itself for such a jerk. I get it when he's a kid, sure. Kids are kids. But the rest... I always remembered how good the tree was — and how I swore I would never be such an ass if I ever met that tree. Crossed my heart.

I guess I sort of did meet a giving tree on this planet, and the tree gave me some... really, really great stuff.

[He holds up some pictures, the one on top a clear picture of him as a baby with his family. He's so very pleased to have these here.

Maybe he'll offer some to Dean; he's not sure if his brother is interested in photos anymore, but... screw it, he'll offer anyway.]

So — thanks for that, tree. I'm content.

What'd you guys get?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Dean.... doesn't know how to respond to that, honestly. He doesn't know if he wants pictures from home, doesn't know if he wants the memories that come with them.

But if Dean's one thing, he's a sucker, deep down. At least when it comes to those he loves. ]

They're yours.

They're ours.

[He corrects it simply enough, using that annoyingly gentle familial tone.

He's not gonna mention the surprising things inside — the more private memories he keeps in the box, but... Well. The pictures are definitely theirs, together. He's got a hefty stack from when he and Dean had been given them, all those years ago. Salvaged, even after all the shit they've been through.]

They're pretty great pictures. You look lame in all of them, of course.

[ They're not-- SAM. Dean all but grumbles under his breath and the touchy-feelyness of it, but at least he keeps his trap shut in that regard. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested, intrigued, nearly grabby hands about the whole thing but he's keeping himself under wraps because that's what he always does.

Because it's easier that way.

.... Sort of.

But man, if calling him lame isn't an effective way to get him interested, than who knows what is. ]

Pretty sure you always looked more lame than me.

No way. I was smaller and scrawnier, I left a better impression.

[Poor little Sam, the smallest 12-year-old hunter. Thank god for growth spurts. But you gotta admit, it meant he could have gotten away with a lot more shit. Hah.]

On who- the lunch ladies?

[ Not that he ever really cared much about how lame Sam did or did not look-- probably because he was too busy worrying about him being mauled to death five hundred different ways to Sunday but that is not the point!! ]

Hey, who got the extra chocolate milk in the family?

... Without stealing them?

And who was too busy working on their fake IDs to give a shit?

[ Priorities. ]

[SNRK.]

You act like I never had to make your dumb fake ID's before.

I distinctly remember you asking me to duplicate some backstage passes for a concert once.

[ This feels so utterly reminiscent of his past that it's kind of hard to be having this conversation. But he is at least.... sort of trying. ]

I mean, you had to be good for something, right?

[Ouch, bro, ouch.

And yet he looks sincerely humored and pleased by the conversation.]

Other than bitching about Dad? I guess you've got a point.

Somebody had to supervise you.

[ Yes, he's ice cold. It's true. But at least you've got him bantering, that's a step up, right? ]

I did your laundry for how many years and you think I needed supervision?

... You and I burned down an entire field, dean.

What's your point, it's not like anybody died.

I don't know, there was probably an innocent gopher in there somewhere.

Maybe a Bambi or two?

Aw, dude, don't make me imagine depressing Bambi deaths.