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Jul. 19th, 2008 05:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gavemea_45Dean had filled him in on running into Sallie in the bar. From what he'd said, it sounds like she's gonna get through it, and Sam's glad.
They've lost too many people already. He doesn't want to think about what it would have been like to lose Sallie.
Now that he knows things are okay, though, there's something else he needs to do.
"This is stupid."
"You said that already, Dean."
"Because it still is."
"Listen, you don't have to come--"
"And I'm supposed to do what instead, hang around the roadhouse or the bar waiting for you to show up? No thanks."
Dean might have driven them there, but he'd flatly refused to have anything else to do with this. No one's around when Sam kneels down and uses a pocketknife to dig a hole in the ground in front of the granite slab.
The gravestone's a simple one. So's the inscription.
MARY
WINCHESTER
1954 - 1983
In Loving Memory
Sunlight glints from metal as Sam pulls a set of dogtags from his shirt pocket. He turns them over in his hand, rubbing his thumb over John's name.
"I think, um--"
He clears his throat.
"--I think Dad would have wanted you to have these."
He sets them in the hole and pushes the clumps of dirt and grass back in place, then looks up at the gravestone.
"I love you, Mom."
They've lost too many people already. He doesn't want to think about what it would have been like to lose Sallie.
Now that he knows things are okay, though, there's something else he needs to do.
"This is stupid."
"You said that already, Dean."
"Because it still is."
"Listen, you don't have to come--"
"And I'm supposed to do what instead, hang around the roadhouse or the bar waiting for you to show up? No thanks."
Dean might have driven them there, but he'd flatly refused to have anything else to do with this. No one's around when Sam kneels down and uses a pocketknife to dig a hole in the ground in front of the granite slab.
The gravestone's a simple one. So's the inscription.
WINCHESTER
1954 - 1983
In Loving Memory
Sunlight glints from metal as Sam pulls a set of dogtags from his shirt pocket. He turns them over in his hand, rubbing his thumb over John's name.
"I think, um--"
He clears his throat.
"--I think Dad would have wanted you to have these."
He sets them in the hole and pushes the clumps of dirt and grass back in place, then looks up at the gravestone.
"I love you, Mom."
