"Nighty night, Sammy!" Dean calls from his bed.
"'Night, Dean," Sam answers, pulling the covers up to his chest. He lays awake quietly, waiting for Dean to fall asleep.
A few minutes later, when he hears his brother's gentle snoring, Sam knows it's safe.
He closes his eyes and pictures it in his mind, the Wall.
It's the only thing separating him from memories of his time in Hell. Dean always tells him not to scratch at it, that it's better not to remember, but curiosity always seems to get the better of him.
Sam runs his hands over the bricks, feeling every chip, scratch and dent he's made so far.
He digs his nail into the red clay and chips off a tiny piece, sending a shockwave of intense pain through his body and an ear-splitting scream through his ears.
Sam crumples to the floor, doubled-over in pain. He takes a deep breath as he stands back up and begins to chip some more.