Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters
Author's Note: I apologize for those of you who are waiting for other stories to be updated, unfortunately my brain likes to hop around, but I promise that I'm not going to leave any story unfinished. So, with that being said, here is a new story and I hope you all enjoy!
Sam laid in the aged bed, staring up at the dark ceiling absently.
He knew that he should be getting some rest. After all, it wasn't like they were holed up in some dingy hotel room in uncomfortable beds. Quite the opposite, they were laying low at Bobby's, and Bobby's beds were always comfortable and good for a decent night's rest.
But not tonight.
Sam Winchester had no intention whatsoever of falling asleep tonight.
He sighed and tucked his hand under his head.
Dean was in the room next door. Bobby down the hall.
He could hear the occasional rustle of sheets as Dean moved, as well as the less-than-random snore from the room down the hall. He grinned to himself and just laid there, listening.
Of course, the noises wouldn't be as loud and distinguished if their bedroom doors had been shut.
Sam pursed his lips. He knew why they'd kept theirs pried open. They were worried about him, and rightly so. After Cas had torn away the wall in his mind, no one really knew what to expect.
So, since they were Winchesters after all, they expected the worst. Because when had they ever gotten anything better?
Sam filled his lungs with air and slowly let it out. Perhaps not knowing what would happen to him was the worst part of this ordeal. It's not like they had books written on spending time in hell with Lucifer and coming back and being soulless, then re-gaining his soul- he huffed a laugh at how ridiculous it all sounded in his mind.
So no, he knew that he wouldn't be getting any sleep. Knew he didn't want to sleep. Each time his eyes tried to close, he'd pry them open with a renewed determination to not sleep.
Sam could remember those dark nights years ago when Dean had returned from hell. Could remember hearing his brother's breath hitch in his sleep, his body rigid. Sam could distinctly feel how utterly helpless he had been in that situation. Still was, although Dean wouldn't admit it, he would still get the occasional nightmare. Who wouldn't? He'd been to hell, literally. That's not just something that you shrug off.
But Sam's time in hell had been different. He was scared of the memories that would sprout up if he dared to close his eyes long enough. He knew he'd have to fall asleep eventually, but he would stubbornly keep himself awake until the time when he was so utterly exhausted that his mind wouldn't have the energy to conjure up hell's experience.
The bottom line was, he wasn't going to worry Dean, not if he could help it.
Sam shook his head, wondering if he'd wake anyone up if he got up to get a glass of water and possibly a book from downstairs to pass the time.
He bit his lip, tempted by the idea. But he, of all people, knew how rickety and creaky Bobby's staircase was. Especially when you wanted to sneak down them. Dean would be up before he reached the third step down, for sure.
The youngest Winchester stretched his neck and contemplated how he would spend the next few hours.
He couldn't realistically be up until at least fifteen minutes after Bobby. Otherwise they'd be suspicious and share worried glances behind his back all morning. And he'd be stuck pretending that he didn't notice them.
He pursed his lips and sat up carefully, making sure that the springs didn't make too much noise. He chewed on his bottom lip. His options were slim. All of his books, laptop, notebooks, everything except his phone was downstairs.
He glanced at his phone that he had needed to plug in to charge. He didn't have any games or anything on it. He sighed once again and pushed the idea away, it's not like he had anyone to call anyways.
He laid back down in defeat, residing himself to being alone with his thoughts all night long.
'At least they're my thoughts,' he told himself.
Although his time as Lucifer's vessel had been brief, Sam still shuddered as he remember their time together in his brain. All of Lucifer's thoughts poking at him constantly, all of Sam's thoughts being picked apart piece by piece.
He remembered feeling his finger snap, a surge of energy and power rippling through him, as he watched, helpless, as Bobby's neck snapped. His lifeless body hitting the ground with a thud. Could recall the nausea he felt when Cas' vessel imploded.
Sam's breathing quickened as he remembered feeling his fist slam into Dean's face, wet and sticky with his brother's blood. Over, and over, and over.
Sam sat up in bed and gulped, gripping his stomach. The memories making him nauseous.
'And those weren't even from hell,' a little voice whispered in the back of his mind.
He stood up, and walked over to the window. He shoved it open and stuck his head out, closing his eyes as he breathed in the fresh air. Letting the shock of the cold wipe away all of his prior thoughts.
For Dean, what had happened in that cemetery had occurred ages ago. And Sam knew that if he brought it up to his brother Dean would simply shrug and state that it hadn't been him doing it, Sam had gotten the reigns back, and everything had turned out okay in the end.
Sam pinched his nose and withdrew back inside the bedroom.
He didn't care if he hadn't 'technically' been the one to smash his older brother's face in. The fact that he could feel himself doing it, could see it but not stop it, was enough to cause nightmares by itself.
And Bobby- Sam shuddered.
He closed the window and plopped down at the edge of his bed, cradling his head in his hands.
He sat that way until a small sliver of sunlight was peering into through the window and he could hear Bobby downstairs in the kitchen.
Sam was up and changing before he'd really decided what he wanted to do, only having one clear thought stuck in his mind. He needed out. He needed to get out now.
He needed to get out of the stuffy bedroom, out of the house, out from scrutinizing eyes, just out. Sam needed time to think and process and...well, he honestly didn't know what else beyond that.
He slipped on his running shoes and some comfortable clothes and walked downstairs.
"Where you headed?" Bobby asked, as soon as Sam walked into the kitchen. He was already nursing a big cup of coffee.
"I'm going for a run," Sam replied, feeling slightly uneasy under the older hunter's gaze.
"Any particular reason?" Bobby asked, a silent question of 'are you okay?' hidden in the words.
Sam smiled, hoping that it looked more convincing than it felt, "Yeah, just need some fresh air."
Bobby nodded, sensing there was more behind the reason, but letting it go nonetheless.
"Be careful," he told Sam gruffly.
Sam's lips quirked upwards and he nodded before walking outside.
The temperature hadn't warmed up much since he'd opened his window, and he shivered at the first gust of wind despite his sweat-shirt and sweatpants. But Sam knew that once he actually starting running he'd be okay, or at least he hoped so.
He stepped off the porch and started out with a jog, not bothering to stretch first. He made it to the end of Bobby's driveway and paused, not sure of which direction he wanted to take. Going right would bring him to the small town about fifteen miles out, whereas going left would just give him empty road.
He veered left and settled into an easy rhythm. Pumping his arms back and forth and breathing in the harsh cold air that felt like it was tearing the back of his throat.
He cranked up the pace, relishing the way his legs burned and his heart raced.
"It's okay, it's okay Sammy. I'm here. I'm here," Dean said, the words obviously painful to say because of his busted lower lip.
Sam felt his arm stretch back against his will.
Sam stopped, chest heaving from both exertion and the vividness of the memory.
His knuckles slammed into the side of Dean's face. Sam was kicking, punching, yelling at Lucifer to stop. When that didn't work Sam started praying, praying that God would somehow let Dean hear his voice.
He screamed at Dean to leave! Run away! Can't you see that Lucifer will kill you?!
Sam's knees gave way beneath him and he painfully hit the asphalt.
"Where's Sam?" the words leapt from Dean's mouth as soon as he noticed Sam's absence from the kitchen table.
"Went for a run," Bobby replied, still leaning against the counter.
Dean scoffed, "A run? What the hell does that kid want to run for?"
The older hunter just shrugged and sipped his coffee.
"Well, did he say anything?" he demanded when it looked like Bobby had no more information to offer him.
Bobby sighed, knowing that he should have expected Dean to overreact. With everything that had happened, he couldn't blame him.
"He just came down and told me he wanted to go for a run. I couldn't find anything wrong with that."
Dean rolled his eyes, "Yeah it's not like hell isn't crashing through his brain right now or anything," he muttered.
"Dean-"
"I'm going after him," Dean declared, more to himself than to Bobby. He stepped towards the hallway only to find that Bobby had stepped in his path.
"Now wait just a minute, ya idjit," Bobby stated, "Now I know you're scared for Sam. I am too, but constantly being on your brother's back isn't going to help anyone. Give him space Dean."
"Space? Remember the last time we were here and I 'gave him space', Bobby?"
Bobby frowned at the memory.
It had been after the shocking death of the boys' father. Sam had apparently checked himself out of the hospital early, without any regards to what the doctors told him. He hadn't told anyone, even Bobby. Just acted as if his injuries were minor and took care of his brother.
It was only when Sam had gotten injured on some hunt and had needed Dean to patch him up that the truth had come tumbling out.
"You've gotta trust him, son," Bobby said in a softer tone, "Ya can't help him if he refuses to accept that he needs help in the firs' place."
Dean glared, still not happy with the thought of Sammy being alone, but acknowledging Bobby's point.
"Fine," he hissed, plopping down at the table, "But if Sasquatch isn't back in twenty minutes, I'm going after him."
'I wouldn't expect any less,' Bobby thought, nodding at the older brother's promise, "Well, you know where to find me if ya need anything," Bobby told him, shuffling off to his desk.
Dean nodded absently, his eyes staring at the clock above Bobby's sink.
He knew Sam needed space, but he couldn't help feeling overprotective. Whatever Cas, just thinking of that angel's name made his vision turn red at the edges, had done to his brother was serious. Heck, it had caused the kid to practically be in a coma for a good three days. So yes, to say he was concerned for his brother was an understatement.
He didn't care that Sam had repeatedly told him that he was fine either.
Sam's record of hiding injuries and claiming to be alright dated back to when they were just kids.
So no, until Dean was positive that Sammy was indeed 'fine' he was gonna mother-hen the living daylights out of his brother. Because Sam was still his responsibility, still his job. And he wasn't going to be persuaded to stop anytime soon.
*Any good? I don't quite know exactly where I'm headed with this story, but be prepared for lots of brotherly feels and whatnot in the chapters to come. I know most stories dealing with Sam's cage memories often don't bring in Swan Song, but I feel like with someone as caring as Sam is, those memories would not be easily forgotten. Especially since he didn't really have any time to adjust before locking himself with Lucifer and Micheal. So really, if you think about it, his last memories of earth, while in the Cage, would have probably been torture for him by themselves since he would think that Bobby and Cas were still dead and Dean was all alone... I don't know, food for thought I suppose. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and please review if you have time. Any and all feedback is always encouraging! Thanks again! :)*