(A/N: This is my first attempt at the Supernatural Fandom! I hope you all like it. This will have three chapters from different characters points of view.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any related television shows. Also, I am aware of the Loch Ness Monster, though I had no part in bringing a dinosaur to a Scottish lake. I suggest we ask Gabriel about that one.

Chapter Summary: Sam knows that time heals all wounds (or at least grants impressive scar tissue). A study in how the youngest Winchester deals. takes place in the latter half of season 9, but before the finale.

Sam always kinda knew that he was the type to hold on to things, not let them go. He still remembered every blow he had earned from Dad and Dean during training, teaching him how to hunt things that went bump in the night. Until Stull Cemetery, when he had managed to stop the apocalypse he started and Castiel had revived him, Sam could pick out the tiny lines of slightly lighter skin on his forearms from nicks from Dean's knife fighting classes. Jess- the women Sam slept with would sometimes trace scars earned on the job or through training, and Sam would have to come up with lies about a childhood car accident.

Now his body was technically almost four years old, and the only scars and blemishes had been earned since. Most days he never thought about it, but sometimes while he was sitting next to Dean in the car driving to or from a job Sam caught himself tracing where there should have been a line, an almost invisible scar and thinking wistfully about that summer of '96 when they had stayed at a lake for a few weeks while Dad and Dean (and sometimes Sam) cleaned out the tri-state area of any and all supernatural monsters they could find. Sam and Dean had been training when Dean lunged just as Sam slipped (not used to growth spurts or the wet beach) and despite both their best intentions and skill, Sam had a half inch gash on his arm.

But mostly Sam remembered how Dean had been more flipped out than Dad who was watching the whole thing, and Dean had almost looked like he was going to cry when he saw that he hurt his little brother. Sam had just felt stupid for slipping over his growing limbs, and Dad had thought it would be a great opportunity for Sam to learn how to stitch himself up, since he couldn't always expect Dean and Dad to be there for him. Dean had thrown a wild questioning look at their father, like he couldn't ever imagine anything keeping him from helping his little brother, especially when he needed help. John had caught the look and amended,

"In the middle of a hunt we could get separated- for a while." Back then even John believed in their bond. Now the brothers could hardly look at each other.

For a long time after Jess died, Sam would have recurring nightmares of how she died, and he talked it out with Dean again and again. Eventually he began to sleep through the night, and Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to cry with relief or with grief. What if he could never see her again except for in his dreams that were fading? All of their pictures and belongings had been destroyed in the fire, and Sam didn't have anything left of Jess except for his memories. What if that too faded into the dull horror that made up his life now?

He didn't talk to Dean about it. He didn't know if his brother would have anything to say to that, and he didn't think he could handle it if he accidentally pushed Dean over his 'chick-flick' moment quota and his older brother pushed back, telling him to suck it up. Winchesters didn't show their emotions unless one of them was passed out on the ground bleeding out.

Once when they were stealing a car to use since the Leviathans could track the Impala, Sam had started the engine, and the song coming from the CD left in the machine startled the youngest Winchester so much that Lucifer had blinked out of existence for a few seconds and when he came back he was patchy and see-through. At that moment centuries in the cage wasn't the most pressing memory haunting Sam.

He was in the tiny cramped kitchen of his college apartment, pretending to read through one of his law texts, but really he was watching Jess out of the corner of his eyes. She was puttering around the stove, stress cooking. The sunset came in through the small window perfectly reflecting in her golden curls, and Jess was singing to herself while the boom-box that Sam kept on NPR played one of her CDs.

It astounded him how she could sway to the beat, bend over the counter to double-check the recipe and start singing in Gaelic without missing a beat.

"Is your family Irish?" Sam asked her once, wondering if she had picked up the language from relatives since try as he might he couldn't tell any difference between Jess' and the singers' Gaelic. Jess had just laughed.

"No. I mean, I don't think so." She shrugged easily, "Most Americans are a mix of everything from the British Isles and the rest of Europe. I'm just a total dork who gets really into my songs." After that their conversation had drifted on to other things, and Sam kept the small nugget of knowledge in his heart. His girlfriend could memorize songs in different languages and sing them as well as a native speaker if she liked them well enough.

"Ugh!" Dean made a face, pulling Sam back to the present. Something had clenched in Sam's chest and he grabbed Dean's hand before he could hit the eject button.

"Wait!" Sam blushed and modified his tone. No need to make Dean think he was going any crazier than he already was. "Just let the song finish."

"What? Since when have you liked Celtic Woman?" Dean tried to treat his little brother with kid gloves these days, but he couldn't keep the twist out of his mouth when he said the name.

"It's Teir Abhaile Riu. It was Jess' favorite. She used to sing it sometimes when she would stress bake during dead week and finals." Dean gave him an odd look, but the brothers pulled out in the stolen vehicle and let the song play until the end and Dean checked with a look towards his brother before he pulled out the CD. Neither brother said anything until they were well out of town on the highway.

"I didn't know you still thought about her." Dean said, as though continuing the conversation from earlier.

Sam shrugged, at the moment more concerned with Lucifer stabbing him over and over again with a meat hook. "You still think about Lisa."

"Yeah, but that was last year."

Sam made himself sit still even though now Lucifer was pouring boiling wax on his skin. "You never get over some people, Dean. She was the love of my life." And it's my fault she's dead. Sam didn't say it, but Lucifer agreed with him.

"Huh. I wonder why we didn't see her in heaven then." Dean had figured that even if Sam didn't care to relive any of his memories with his family, Sam's college sweet-heart might have made an appearance. Sam was a little surprised. Dean never brought up heaven.

"I did. The first thing I saw when I woke up there was Jess and I moving into the apartment. Everything was still in boxes, but she was like the energizer bunny- never staying still for a second. She was so happy, because she said it was our first home together." Sam smiled and Lucifer flickered behind him for a second before coming back with a vengeance, making him grimace. "I actually drug most of her things into the building before I realized I was dead. Next thing I knew we were in the car, driving around." Sam lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "We were just goofing off, singing along with the radio." Sam smiled. "I think it was that day in between jobs when we got lost and spent the entire day looking for Highway 60 because you wouldn't stop for directions, then everything flickered, and suddenly I was in a different memory. I figure it was the demon blood. No way was I making it up there with that in me. Heaven could probably tell. That's why my memories after that were so . . . weak, I guess. I mean, I was happy in those memories, but they weren't my best hits."

Dean gaped at him for a second and nearly ran them off the road. "So you're telling me that wasn't your heaven?" Sam wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Sure it was, you saw it." But Dean just smiled and shook his head. Hours later when they squatted in an abandoned house he still had a grin on his face. Because he knew. The Angels were cheating manipulative bastards, and he hadn't seen Sam's real heaven. Now if only he could convince Sam.

Still, on days when Sam supposed the universe decided to throw him a bone after a hellish week of starting the apocalypse, or Dean catching a witch's curse that was meant for him, or being the last standing Winchester (again), or his brother dying then turning into a demon, or something else horrible, Sam would dream of Jess.

Sam wouldn't admit that he was still carrying the torch for her. He knew that she was never coming back, and she would have wanted him to move on and try to find someone else to share his life with (Dean had said once that she would want him to be happy, even if most days Sam wasn't sure if he could even do that anymore). But no one else had ever been able to make Sam feel the way he did when he was with his old girlfriend.

The dreams weren't even about sex. It was mostly just Sam laying across the couch in the bunker (which was somehow in the Stanford apartment that burned) while Jess propped his head on her lap and just talked to him while combing through his hair about one of her classes, or Lord of the Rings (he still couldn't believe that she had never read them before they started dating) or something one of her friends was doing.

Now they were walking around the arboretum that Jess had heard of from Tim from one of her psychology classes. Sam kind of felt old fashioned, taking Jess on a date and then just walking around in the park with her, holding hands. He'd be mortified if Dean could see him now. But this was still his dream. It was a decade ago and Stanford, and Dean didn't care to see him until he wanted help tracking down their missing father. Despite years passing, Sam still wasn't sure what Dean had meant when he acknowledged that he was perfectly capable of finding Dad on his own, but he didn't want to.

If Dean wanted Sam's company why hadn't he called or visited before then? When asked, Dean had just pointed out that Sam could have called too, but that wasn't right. Sam was disowned. He wasn't supposed to call or contact either Dad or Dean. But these thoughts were clouding what should have been a beautiful day with Jess.

Apparently dream-Jess could read his mind because she looped her elbow through his and said "Your brother loves you, Sam. Just as much as you love him, but you're both allowed to fight." Her lips turned down into a small frown of displeasure.

"You're allowed to be angry with him, Sam. He tricked you into saying yes. He did it because he loves you, but uninformed consent isn't consent at all. And after Lucifer, hell, even after Meg, you have every right to throw any kind of fit at possession. You were assaulted for months at a time, and whether he thinks of it that way or not, Dean was an accessory to it."

Sam just shook his head, making Jess squeeze his arm. "I'm your girlfriend, Sam. I'm always going to be on your side."

"I love you so much." In a corner of his mind, Sam hoped that he had fallen asleep in his own room instead of out in the open, because it would be embarrassing for someone to see him crying in his sleep.

Perhaps the thought spawned the action, but Sam could feel himself being pulled back into the world of the living by a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Sam? Are you okay man?" the youngest Winchester blinked groggily and rubbed at his eyes, wincing when his fist came away wet. They were in the library and Dean was in front of him, looking concerned.

"What was that about? You were crying but not moving or moaning or anything, so I couldn't tell how bad it was. . ." Dean trailed off uncertainly, unsure of himself now that his protective instincts had been appeased and he could remember that they weren't supposed to be brothers anymore. But hunting partners could look out for each other, right?

Sam didn't say anything at first, just rolled his shoulders. "It wasn't bad. Just something I think I needed to hear. Do you want any breakfast?" Sam always worried that most of his brother- most of Dean's diet came from a bottle these days.

Dean seemed surprised. "I'm good. What did you need to hear? Was it some kind of angel dream-walking thing?" Castiel had entered his sleeping mind before, to try and pass warnings, so maybe an angel had passed through the wards to get to Sam?

"Nah. It wasn't any angel." Jess was better than any of those dicks with wings, even when she had been stressed and angry enough that Sam would have put money on her in a fight against a raging werewolf. "It was a ghost. Or I dreamed of a ghost." Sam frowned in confusion for a moment, considering the potential effects of having Heaven emptied and what counter effects that could have on the wards on the bunker before turning his attention back to Dean.

"Okay . . . do we need to get the salt and exorcisms out?" Sam huffed a laugh.

"No. she's fine. She just wanted to talk."

"About what?" if there was a new lead about Abaddon, then Dean couldn't let Sam spend time cooking breakfast, they could grab something on the road.

"She said that she'd always be on my side, because she was my girlfriend and that just because you and I are angry with each other right now doesn't mean that we don't love each other." For a moment Dean felt tempted to ask which dead girlfriend it had been, but that would have been mean. It was probably the werewolf or Sarah, or maybe Jess. Sam had been feeling nostalgic lately.

"Okay. . ." Dean drew out the word. "What was with the water works, then?" Because if Sam was keeping something from him, again . . . there wasn't really anything Dean could do about it. They weren't brothers anymore.

Sam seemed a little confused, probably because of being woken up then playing twenty questions. "Oh." He touched his face where the tear tracks were still wet. "I think it's because I was happy. Dean, you know that no matter what we're still brothers, right?" Dean pulled up Sam with a jerk of his arm, helping to steady him once he was vertical.

"Dude, what were you eating before you fell asleep?" he asked instead of trying to answer around the lump that formed in his throat. Sam just laughed again, this time almost sounding like he meant it.

Sam would go on to make scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast for himself, but oh-so-accidentally prepare a plate for his brother. It would take bullying, bribing, and the puppy-dog eyes, but Sam eventually got him to eat it all. And while he scrubbed the frying pan, Sam would reflect that he always felt the most rested after a Jessica dream.

Sam had saved the voicemail. It was important that he always remember how wrong he could be, especially when he thought that he was doing right. When he had first met up with Dean again at the convent, he expected his brother to be there to kill him, and he would have stood still and let him, after they killed Ruby together, if it weren't for Lucifer rising and their literal Deus ex Machina. Then after that they were running around playing catch up and Sam figured that Dean was planning on helping Sam clean up the mess he made before killing him.

But he never did, not even after they separated and Sam told Dean that he was the chosen vessel for the devil. He was sure that that would be the final straw and his older brother would remember his warning that he was going to kill Sam because their father's dying words were more important than Sam. He wondered how to explain to Dean that he would have to be creative with his execution, since Lucifer had promised to bring Sam back even if he killed himself. When Dean called Sam up, wanting to meet again, Sam was sure that it was a trick to lure Sam out so Dean could kill him.

But Dean had done nothing of the sort. Later, Sam heard a conversation between Dean and Cas. They thought that Sam was asleep, and Sam was about to stretch and 'yawn' to let them know he was awake before they saw him and thought he was eavesdropping when Dean mentioned 'That Voicemail' he had left Sam.

"I just- I guess I just thought that if Sam heard that, I could stop him." Dean shrugged looking helpless.

"It affected Sam more than you know." Cas intoned before shuffling awkwardly and making a quick excuse to leave.

"Fat lot of good that did." Dean mumbled. Sam turned his face into the pillow so his brother wouldn't see his smile. Dean hadn't meant what he said. He had been trying to scare Sam straight. It had gone horribly wrong, of course, but that didn't matter to Sam. He waited fifteen seconds then 'woke up'.

Of course, as the day wore on, Sam's lingering doubts came back. He was sure that Dean couldn't fake the kind of venom that dripped from the message. Dean wouldn't be able to find those exact words to hurt him unless at some point he had thought them- felt that way about his brother. Sam felt like he would never stop having to prove his worth to his older brother.

Soulless Sam had deleted the message. It was dangerous to keep sensitive information on a cell phone when anyone could find it and use the information against Sam or even Dean. Besides, it was easier to make decisions now than it had been before he went to hell. It was like that place had burned all of his doubts away.

It was better to keep his distance from Dean anyway. Sure, it was more efficient to hunt with a partner, but his older brother had kept his promise to stay with Lisa and Ben and live the apple pie life, and he was happy where he was. Besides, Dean would only hold him back. He had found a hunting partner in his grandfather, Samuel, and they were able to continue the family business, hunting things that went bump in the night.

When Sam got his soul back, one of the first things he did (after eating and sleeping) was going through all of his things, finding out what he thought Dean might have thrown out or lost while he was apparently in a coma in Bobby's basement. It was still safely tucked into the lining of his bag, and he didn't think Dean had noticed it while he was 'asleep', but his phone had been scrubbed of all voicemails and other data.

Logically, Sam knew that it was dangerous to keep sensitive information on a device like that, but a tiny corner of his mind had hoped that Dean might have heard that message, realized that his brother had saved it for a year (that it was the most played message on his phone), and recognized it as the penance and reminder that it was. He had hoped that maybe the message could have stayed, because it didn't matter that Sam was supposed to be in The Cage with Michael and Lucifer (and oh god, Adam was stuck there with them without Sam to protect him the way Dean, the way a big brother should), nothing had changed.

Sam was still a monster, and he probably would always be one, even if Dean probably never wanted to articulate it. Besides, both of them had changed so much, was it even realistic to think that Dean would ever feel about him the Same way or have his back again?

~X~

Sam kept the amulet. Dean was angry, he understood that. Dean's heaven was beautiful, full of memories of their family. Sam's was not. His 'best hits' were mediocre because he was the tainted demon blood drinking boy king abomination, and he was never supposed to get into heaven. Sam tried to process everything later, figure out why those memories in particular were included, and the best he could figure out he organized in a bullet point list on his computer. It was a protected file because if Dean ever saw it when he played around on his computer if he didn't blow a gasket then he would laugh and make fun of his OCD.

The thanksgiving wasn't about the other family, no matter what Dean thought. It was because Sam was used to getting little to no attention from adults. He was always 'the new kid' from that weird family of drifters, and if they did care to pay attention to him, it was always with suspicion. Was he the one stealing from the lockers? Cheating on homework and tests? (Because a smart drifter was a nice idea but never a possibility with these people) or worse, were those bruises from his family? Should they call the cops?

But that thanksgiving, that girl's parents were paying attention to him, but they seemed . . . happy to have him there. Of course, later he learned that his girlfriend had a terrible taste in guys, and Sam was the best boy her parents had ever seen her with. Sam had been so pleased to be center of positive attention for once that he almost forgot to sneak food out for Dean.

Flagstaff was the best and stupidest idea Sam had ever had. It had been wonderful to be on his own for a couple of weeks, not constantly drilling or learning new ways to kill things, but he knew he was worrying Dean, leaving like a jerk without telling anybody. And when Dad had found him. . .

Sam thought long and hard on why that was a heaven worthy memory and decided it was because of Bones. Dad and Dean had never let Sam have any pets. It just wouldn't work with their nomadic lifestyle, and eventually they'd have to leave it behind anyway, because they never knew when they'd have to make a quick getaway (no one liked to remember Poughkeepsie). So those two weeks in Flagstaff were special to Sam in a way because of Bones. He had found the dog filthy and limping his first afternoon in the park. Sam had taken him home, cleaned and doctored him back to health, and Sam found that he had a loving and loyal companion in his dog. Sam loved animals, but if he had to choose, Sam would say that dogs were his favorite.

When Dad had showed up to drag Sam back to Dean, he had dropped Bones off at the shelter. Sam, who had remained stoic through the yelling and scolding (Dad never raised a hand to Sam in violence, only in training), burst into tears the rest of the long car ride back to Dean. His brother had assumed that Sam was all torn up over Dad, so he had acted like a buffer between them for the next few weeks like he always did when they had a fight.

The night Sam left for Stanford was easy. Dean had told Sam that that night was one of the worst nights of his life, and in a corner of his mind Sam knew that. That was what made what Dean did so special. He had run out after Sam, when he had stormed away from his fight with John, and newly disowned. Dean had done everything he could think of to get him to stay, even pulling out the 'L' word that Sam hadn't heard in years, not since Dean had decided that he was too old to tell Sam that he loved him every night, and had stopped giving him hugs just because. Dean had told his little brother that he loved him, and begged him to stay, and when that hadn't worked, Dean had given him a ride to the bus station, gave him all the money he had on him, and peppered him with advice on how to not be a total geek at college.

Sam knew how much all of that had to have cost his big brother, and he selfishly soaked it all in, feeling loved on what he pretty much figured would be his last evening with his family. He wore that love like a shield on that long bus ride, and it gave him the courage needed to not run off at every stop along the way and walk or hitchhike back to his family. The dual knowledge of that evening kept him strong and away.

Sam was disowned, never welcome back, forbidden to call, but Dean loved him enough to let him go live his own life. He set up two different bank accounts, living on half his wages so that he could make a savings fund for Dean. Once he graduated and could set up his own law office Sam would track down Dean's phone number and give him a call, let him know about the money that was his (it could never pay back his older brother for feeding and clothing and loving him all those years, but it could pay for gas for Baby and buy food for a while, or even bail Dean out of jail [he would definitely need that at some point]).

When his world had burned up around him with Jess, the money in Dean's fund was quietly added to their daily account, and if Dean thought that all of that was saved up for a ring for Jess, then there was no need to tell him otherwise. The actual ring money was set aside for true emergencies and was eventually spent on the gas and honeymoon suite Sam needed to end the world.

But Sam kept the amulet. Dean was angry, with every right to be, and Sam would hold onto the last physical symbol of their broken bond until Dean ever decided that he wanted it back.

It was hidden in the lining of his duffle bag, where it couldn't get lost in a hasty retreat from the law. It was well hidden enough that no one could ever find it unless they knew where it was, or they literally took the bag apart. He was tempted- more than tempted, to wear it in Detroit when he said 'yes' to the devil with the end goal of throwing himself into hell. Why not? If he was going to hell anyways, why couldn't Sam bring one thing with him to remind him of why he had done all of this?

But that would leave Dean alone. And Dean deserved any form of comfort infinitely more than Sam ever would. More than anything, Sam wanted to clear the air with him, and if he brought up the amulet now it would only drag up Sam's disastrous tainted heaven, and that wasn't a conversation that Sam wanted to have on his last night on earth. So he made sure it was safe in his duffle. Dean would find it when he sorted through Sam's things, and he would know that Sam never meant to make things so bad between them.

It remained in Sam's bag in the truck of the Impala for the year and a half Sam was gone and then not, and when Soulless Sam had joined up with Dean again, and Dean had given Sam his things back, Soulless Sam had pulled out the amulet that night while Dean slept in the motel room and looked at it for a while, trying to figure out whether or not he wanted to throw it out.

It was useless, but it didn't take up very much room. It might mean something still to Dean, but Sam didn't care to give it to him because that would draw up a conversation about feelings and it was exhausting, trying to remember what he would have felt a year ago and how those emotions would have played out on his face.

So he kept it hidden in the bag. Eventually there would come a time when Dean would question Sam and his motives or integrity. That would be the proper time to give it back, as proof of his 'love'. Until then, it didn't really hurt anything where it was, and it wasn't a bad act of 'sentiment' to keep it safe.

When Sam got his soul back, one of the first things he did (after eating and sleeping) was going through all of this things, finding out what he thought Dean might have thrown out or lost while he was apparently in a coma in Bobby's basement. It was still safely tucked into the lining of his bag, and he didn't think Dean had noticed it while he was 'asleep'. That was good. As Sam learned more about the truth of the year he couldn't remember, he realized how lucky he was that the amulet was still safe.

It was justifiable paranoia that led Sam to move the amulet into his pocket where he could feel its weight and brush against it when he needed to. He never carried it on a dangerous mission because if he died and Dean did something stupid to bring him back and he was soulless again, Sam couldn't take the risk that he would deem it useless and throw it away permanently. So it was tucked away in the lining of Sam's duffle when he thought for sure that Dean and Castiel had killed themselves along with Dick Roman.

Sam was numb, like his emotions had died with his big brother when he was faced with Crowley's gloating face while he explained that Dean was gone and Sam was truly on his own now. Later Sam would wonder why Crowley never offered to deal with Sam and bring Dean back in exchange for Sam's soul (Broken, torn, and flayed as it was, Sam had learned that it was always useful to have such a marker over hunters like that), but when the king of hell vanished, leaving Sam alone, he had somehow avoided the authorities and make it back to the motel they were staying at- he was staying at on auto pilot.

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, holding the amulet at eye level to try and puzzle out what to do. Bobby and Rufus and Ellen and Dad and everyone Sam would ever consider calling for help was dead. Kevin was probably dead already, and Garth had only given his contact information to Dean.

Dean was everybody's favorite Winchester. He was brave, and fiercely loyal, and funny and smart (God, Sam loved watching his big brother come out from behind the drop-out façade and slam some drunk idiot or demon idiot with logic or a brilliant plan, and now Sam was on his own. . .), and more than anything else, Dean was good. Dean was in heaven with Mom and Dad, and Ellen and Jo, and Bobby and Rufus, and Pamela and Kevin, and Pastor Jim and Caleb, and everybody who the brothers had loved and was dead because of Sam. It never mattered that Dean was the favorite because until a few years previously Sam had been Dean's favorite and that made Sam feel as special as anything else in the world.

Should he go to a cross-roads?

The thought flickered through Sam's head. He still had a box made up under the passenger seat of the Impala with everything he would need to contact a cross-roads demon. If Sam could just remember how his feet and hands worked, it would only take an hour or two and then he could be with his brother again. The standard was ten years before the collection was taken, but with Winchester luck, Crowley would hold the soul indefinitely and work the brothers like his demonic flunkies, but that wouldn't matter because they'd be together and they could out-smart or gank Crowley.

But would that be the best thing for Dean? He was in heaven now, and at peace for the first time in years. Sam was a selfish bastard, but even he couldn't bring himself to ruin this for Dean. So no matter how badly it hurt, Sam couldn't bring himself to ruin this for Dean. He briefly looked at his pistol and wondered if there was any way he could join Dean, but he dismissed the thought quickly.

No, Sam was never destined to go to heaven. The one time had only been because God wanted to play telephone and tell them that he wouldn't help them at all. With the things the youngest (only) Winchester had done, all Sam had to look forward to once he died was eternal torment in hell. The farthest possible place from Dean. And hadn't Lucifer once taunted him with the foolish hope that Dean would get him out of the cage? Lucifer had, of course, revealed eventually that he was lying and Dean was happy playing house and forgetting all about Sam, but while he had kept the premise that Dean was trying to get him back, Lucifer had told him that it was only delaying the fun. Once Sam died again he would undoubtedly go straight to hell, and when he arrived, the demons would escort him right back into the Cage, where Lucifer would have all kinds of fun things ready to celebrate his return.

And Sam would put off that day for as long as he could, even if it meant wandering the earth with no one who would remember that only one person could call him 'Sammy', or what kind of coffee he got at Starbucks, or the punch lines to his jokes.

He started wearing the amulet after that, just to hold onto the last strings of his sanity (was it because of Castiel dying and losing hold of his Lucifer hallucinations, or was it because Sam had never handled being on his own well at all?). He wore it on the day he hit a dog and took it to the vet.

He wore it the day Dean came back into his life and he hadn't been in heaven, but purgatory and Crowley was a lying bastard. That evening he tucked it into his pocket. He didn't need it now that his real 'stone number one' was back.

When they found the bunker (their heritage, their legacy) and moved in, Sam tucked the amulet into the lining of his duffle, because he didn't want to lose it when they would inevitably have to bug out, because nothing good lasted. Eventually, as the trials progressed, and Sam felt more at home, he kept the amulet in his pocket for added comfort.

After the disastrous third trial, but before the Gadreel scandal, Sam had been in a good place. He had almost even dared to think that he could relax and let himself be happy. He had even started rehearsing how he would casually bring up the time they went to heaven, then let Dean know that he had the amulet for him, anytime he wanted it. After all, they had finally left the past hurt and the drama behind them, hadn't they? Then the angels and Dean had ruined all that, and Sam cursed himself a fool. The amulet was moved from the lining to the trashcan for a minute and a half, then carefully dusted off and returned to Sam's pocket for another five minutes until the promise and the lies became too heavy and it was tucked away in Sam's sock drawer.

When Sam learned that Dean had gotten the Mark of Cain, he sealed himself in his room for days at a time, trying to learn everything he could about the mark and how to get rid of it, because he was still angry with Dean for the whole possession thing, and he would be damned if Dean died before they were able to fix this.

Sam hung the amulet from a safety pin on his cork board so when the words on the pages spread in front of him in dead languages blurred he could look up at the amulet and remind himself what he was doing all this for. Because Dean had never betrayed his brother . . . okay, had only done it once, and for the exact opposite reason as the mark's namesake. After all that Dean had done for Sam, he deserved to have Sam get him out of this.

Sam always kinda knew that he was the type to hold on to things, not let them go, and he would always hang onto this. The amulet would be right here, waiting for Dean if he ever wanted it again. Always waiting.