Where Do We Belong?

This is post Devil's Trap – I like to write about what hasn't happened yet (well not in England anyhow) because it gives you a bit more license. I don't own Supernatural or it's characters – I do own a dog though!

Sam Winchester sat cross-legged on the hospital bed and looked down at all his earthly goods spread out before him. A leather wallet full of fake ID's, $30, two coupons for some sort of breakfast cereal, a creased and much viewed photograph of Jess. Sam felt a slightly hysterical laugh forming in his throat and he bit it back. He had been in hospital for over three weeks and his insurance was fast running out. Dean was in for the long haul and Sam had no idea when his brother would be well enough to leave. At one point the Doctors had told him his brother would die. He had suffered from internal bleeding, a punctured lung, three broken ribs, a broken leg and severe lacerations to the face and chest. Dean had been in a coma for almost two weeks and even now spent most of his time sleeping. He was too weak to really take in his situation, too weak to be told that his father was dead, his beloved car had been totalled, everything he owned had gone up in a huge explosion of petrol and fire. Sam had spent most of his waking hours by Dean's bedside just holding on to his brother, willing him to live, willing him to be strong, wanting him to be the big brother he had always been. He would have sold his soul, yeah really, to have 'his' Dean back, but Sam knew that the wise cracking, glib Dean was gone forever. That Dean had died along with his father and the Impala and now Sam had to be the strong one, the one to keep what was left of their family together.

Sam had been declared strong enough to leave and now he was sitting here, dragging out the final minutes before he vacated his bed and left the hospital to go; to go where? He didn't have anywhere to go. He couldn't go back to the motel that they had stayed in before the accident, as he had no money to pay for the room. He couldn't go home because he had no home. Fuck – he couldn't even sleep in the car because he didn't have the fucking car. Sam put his fingers to his head and rubbed hard. He didn't know where to go, all he knew is that he had to stay nearby to hold on to Dean.

He felt weak and tired. It was cold out after the intense heat of the hospital and he had nothing but his hoodie to keep him warm. He pulled the hood up and thrust his hands in his pockets, his mind whirling. How would he possibly afford the hospital bills? Where could he stay? What would he do when Dean was finally well enough to leave the safety of the hospital? He realised he was shaking and his legs felt wobbly and unconnected. He leant against the nearest wall, shutting his eyes and holding back the tears that threatened. He had to be strong; he had to be strong for Dean.

"Are you alright?" a women's voice, gentle "Come on – lets get you inside" A hand on his arm, steering. "Jake – get some coffee"

The room was large and painted a dull yellow. Rows of beds lined up on either side of the wall, each with a rough grey blanket and off white pillow. In the centre of the room was a table, laden with coffee, donuts and flasks of soup. Sam leant against the woman who had helped him, his voice rough and quiet "This is a shelter for the homeless" he said

"Sure is honey" the woman sat him down on the nearest bed "You look all in, you should lie down for a while"

"I'm alright" it was a lie and she knew it "I don't need…I can't stay here"

"Should I call someone?" her tone told him that she knew there was no one to call "No – then at least have some coffee" she held out a hand to him "I'm Mary – I run this shelter and you are?"

"Sam – Sam Winchester" he found himself looking at the woman for the first time. She was in her early forties he guessed, with long blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She wore a brightly coloured gipsy skirt, a black vest and soft leather sandals. Silver bracelets clanked together as she moved her arms and Sam could see the glint of gold in her ears. Her smile was kind and gentle, but her voice was firm

"Are you in any trouble Sam?"

"No, No" he found himself shaking his head a little too vehemently "I, I just got out of hospital today and I don't have anywhere to go"

"I see" she handed him a Styrofoam cup of coffee "Drink it, it's hot and sweet and will make you feel a hell of a lot better" she smiled again "You can stay here if you like Sam. You don't have to tell me anything, I just like to know that you're not going to bring any trouble here – understand?"

"I don't belong here" Sam's weakness forced his emotions, his panic closer to the surface than he would have liked "I'm not…" he was about to say 'homeless' but his mouth could not form what his mind knew to be a lie.

"No one thinks they belong here Sam" Mary put a hand on his arm "No one wants to be here" she sipped her own coffee "Now at least rest awhile. If you've just got out of hospital then you must have been pretty sick, you need to rest"

"I was in a car accident" Sam found himself lying back on to the bed. Mary's voice was soft, hypnotic and he found it strangely comforting. "I'm feeling better now"

"I know Sam, I know, just sleep a little, just rest"

He did as she asked, his eyes closing. He felt the rough blanket across his legs, the plumping of the pillow beneath his head and, somehow, against his will, he slept.

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Sam lay on the bed, eyes closed against the darkness. He could hear soft snoring, the occasional rustle of a mattress, he could smell the pungent scent of sweat and stale alcohol and he knew he was no longer alone in the shelter. He wondered, not for the first time, how he had ended up here. He thought of his father, so determined, so proud, so driven. He thought of Dean, daddy's little soldier, wanting so much to please, to follow orders. How they had worked together as a family to destroy the thing that had killed his mom and Jess. How had it come to this? He and Dean were orphans now, homeless, directionless orphans. The worse thing was that the demon was still alive, still out there, still able to seek them out and destroy them. Shivers ran down his spine, as he thought of his brother alone and vulnerable in his hospital bed. He wanted to sit up, but he still felt weak and his head hurt. He was hungry too, the fatty hospital breakfast that had been his last meal seemed a long time ago and he hadn't really got the money to spend on luxuries such as food. Fuck, he hadn't even been able to give his dad a proper burial next to mom like he wanted, instead his father had been given a paupers funeral and Sam didn't even know what happened to his ashes, his concerns being for the living; for Dean. Tears that had been held in check earlier began to seep, unbidden and unwanted, down his hot cheeks and he didn't even possess the strength to brush them away. Soon the pillow beneath his head was damp and he turned his face into it to stifle the painful sobs that shook him as he cried for his dad, his brother, his mom and Jess. Grief that had been buried deep down finally surfaced and he sobbed until he had nothing left inside but dry heaves and then, too exhausted to do anymore, he slept.