A/N: Here is the second of my fics celebrating Sam's birthday! Again, I chose hurt.
Prompt: Sam has been taken apart and put together so many times. At what point does he start to lose pieces?
Sam has lost count of the amount of times Death has come for him. Yet, he remembers the first time clear as day, remembers the white-hot pain of the knife entering his back and the confusion when he came back. He'd felt somehow not whole, as if he'd left a piece of him behind in the mud at Cold Oak.
(Perhaps he's been leaving pieces of himself everywhere, since the moment he watched Jessica burn)
Before, he's been able to put aside his feelings of not-quite wholeness - to somehow fill the spaces with hunting. He's not really sure what changed, only that he can't do it anymore. Maybe he's just lost one too many pieces.
He can't quite tell, because his memories of that time are split, fuzzy, but he thinks it started sometime after he was brought back from the Cage. He remembers Lucifer taking him apart and putting him back together thousands of times, each way different to the last. Now, Sam wonders if Lucifer kept some souvenirs to remember him by. His body feels whole, but his soul no longer fits inside.
He can't quite recall anymore what being whole felt like. Sometimes he doubts if he's ever been whole, period. He supposes he must have done, but it's been so many centuries since then that it's all become a blur. Wholeness has become little more than a dream, and here's the thing about dreams: they don't come true.
Sam knows this, and he remains. Not quite-whole, and torn apart.
A/N: Ew this is the worst I hate it so much. Sorry that it's so short.