Phantom Pain

by RosieG

Drabble. There were times, even 8 months later, when Sam found himself falling into the old habit of pressing down into the palm of his left hand. He'd rub it, tracing his fingers along the scar, phantom pain grounding him and helping him focus.

There were times, even 8 months later, when Sam found himself falling into the old habit of pressing down into the palm of his left hand. He'd rub it, tracing his fingers along the scar, phantom pain grounding him and helping him focus.

It happened every time he felt stressed, worried, nervous. Every time the grief overwhelmed him.

He caught himself most often when he was thinking about Dean. It was fitting, he supposed. Dean had given him this lifeline. Dean had gripped his hand that first time, desperately pushing down into the stitches, reminding him that the pain was real. That he was real. That Dean was real.

Sometimes, when the grief got to be too much, when the not knowing almost sent him back into madness, he found a spark of hope igniting in his chest when he pressed down on the scar. A small part of him thought, maybe I'll look up and Dean will be there. Maybe this has all been my imagination. But it was all in his head. He'd look up and there would still be just as much nothing as before, and he'd fall a little bit deeper into the darkness.

Amelia changed things.

For some reason, Sam didn't need a reality check around Amelia. Didn't need to reaffirm that he wasn't in some hell concocted by his own mind. She kept the darkness at bay, and he found himself tracing his scar less often, looking forward instead of back. He stopped focusing on the ripped up shreds of his life that he had haphazardly attempted to piece back together, and realized instead that he was still whole, him and Amelia, and that they could be whole together.

Still. It wasn't perfect. Amelia made him feel safe. But when she wasn't around, or when something else intruded on the fledgling life they were beginning to build together, it still shook him. Still sent him running to old habits for comfort.

So when Stan asks him about the Impala, it takes Sam a second to realize he's rubbing his scar again. He shakes it off, and tells Stan that the old Chevy belonged to his Dad, to John. But around the edges of his vision, everything gets just a little bit darker again.

Because Baby belonged to Dean.