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Dean doesn't consider himself a superstitious guy. He's a Winchester, and they're all far too aware of the real dangers lurking in the dark to waste time jumping at shadows. But some of the things society considers ridiculous are true, and that goes for superstitions, too. Some of them are based on truth, some aren't; knowing the difference can tip the balance.
"Go back to sleep, Dean," Mommy says, and tucks him back in. "You're safe - angels are watching over you." She bends down and Dean feels her lips brush against his forehead. He lets her words comfort him and closes his eyes.
When he opens them again, the world is full of fire and smoke and screaming.
Afterwards, he refuses to leave Sammy alone at night; he creeps in beside him and lies awake as long as he can, because he knows now that no one else is watching over them.
"Well, they say your soul can be thrown out of your body when you sneeze," Pastor Jim says. "People used to think it could leave you open to demonic possession, and saying 'Bless you' was a way to counter that."
"Is it true?" Dean asks, worriedly. He hadn't even thought about something like that happening. Sammy has a cold and has been sneezing a lot for the past few days. Dean tries to remember whether he's said 'Bless you' every time, and feels guilty that he's can't be sure.
Pastor Jim chuckles and ruffles his hair. "No, I don't really think so. It's just an old custom, no one really knows exactly how it originated. It's just a polite thing to say, no real power in it."
Dean nods, but he's seen weirder things happen, and after that he makes certain he says 'Bless you' whenever Sam or Dad sneeze, and tells himself he's keeping the demons away from them, that they're safe.
A small part of him almost believes it for years, right up until the first time he sees his dad's eyes change color.
"I want you to have it," Sam tells him, and his jaw is set stubbornly, even if his eyes are still red-rimmed.
Dean doesn't know what else to do but accept the gift; he opens it and stares at the amulet in his hand.
When he slips it over his head he can almost feel the power in it settling over him, even though he tells himself that's stupid. But he feels safe with it on, safer than he's felt in a long time; it's like someone's watching over him again.
Even after Sam leaves for college, he never takes it off.
Dean stuffs the wad of hundred-dollar bills he's been saving up for months into a pocket of Sam's bulging duffel. His brother will find it when he gets to California. God knows he'll need it.
The knife, though, Dean leaves lying out on the bed, in plain sight, for Sam to accept or reject.
Dean's never been given a knife: Dad taught him the superstition long ago, that by giving a knife as a gift you sever your bonds with the recipient. Usually Dad just gives him money to buy knives himself, or Dean gives him something small in exchange, so that it's technically a trade, not a gift.
It's not that Dean wants to cut his ties with Sam - that's not even a concept his mind can comprehend - but Sam said a lot of things in that last fight with Dad, and for the first time Dean thinks there's a chance that his brother might want to cut his ties with them.
Or maybe Sam will just leave the knife, though Dean doesn't really want that, either - he just knows his brother won't have packed any weapons, and this offering is also a not-so-subtle reminder to Sam to take care of himself and watch his back.
Dean forces himself to slip out of the room before his brother returns from the bathroom, toothbrush and razor in hand.
Only when the front door finally closes behind Sam does Dean go back into the room that used to be theirs and is now his. The knife is gone from Sam's bed, but there's a dime lying in its place, glinting dully, and Dean takes what feels like his first deep breath all evening.
He slips the coin into his pocket and carries it with him, takes it out and holds on to it every time he calls Sam and his brother doesn't pick up.
The lights go out in the apartment. Dean leans back in the Impala and asks himself again if he's going to do this.
Dad's been gone for too long, though, and left Dean nothing but a single broken-up voicemail. Whenever they're working separate jobs, they always touch base every three days, no more than that. Dean can feel in his gut that something's wrong.
And yeah, Dean could go looking for Dad by himself, but he needs Sam on this. Dean slips a hand into his pocket, feels cool metal against his fingers.
He gets out of the car and goes to break into his little brother's apartment.
When Sam settles into the Impala next to him half an hour later, Dean touches the dime again and grins.
He doesn't consider himself a superstitious guy, but there are some things he believes in.