Warnings: Language and angst are pretty much the main players, here. Also, beware of choppy sentences, comma abuse, and weird tenses.
Spoilers: 6.06 and 6.07 directly, general season 6.
Inner Whispers
Sam: "You just went. You didn't hesitate cause that's who you are. You care. Me? I wouldn't even think to try."
Dean: "Yes, you would."
Sam: "No, Dean."
-Exile on Main Street
Sam doesn't know how to explain it. His memories tell him what he should be feeling but his heart, mind, and body are never on the same page. It's like the line between his emotions and his brain has been disconnected, and no one's called the cable company to fix it. And Sam tried. Really, he tried. It was the second thing on his to-do list right after 'find out what brought me back from hell.' He never found answers to either one so eventually, he just accepted that things were going to be different. It never would've been a problem if he didn't have to drag Dean back into the life.
His memories told him that he missed his big brother but Dean needed to be happy with Lisa, and that's why he had to stay away. So he stayed away. His memories told him that when Dean came back into the picture that he should be heartbroken to crash in on Dean's newfound 'normal,' but overjoyed to have him back. So he tried to be. He even thought he felt whispers of panic when Dean was in trouble with the djinn next door, but then he realized that he's just been in the position so many times, that the memory of trying to save Dean was really that palpable. And when Dean didn't come back with him to hunt, his memory told him to be heartbroken.
Something nagged in the back of his mind when he stood and watched Dean get turned, told him that it shouldn't be right or ok, but his feet never moved. He didn't want them to move. Then his inner voice, the thing that he's learned to call Old Sam, told him that he was an enemy for letting Dean get turned and using him the way that he did. It's kind of like being possessed, actually, only you are your own meat suit. It's really sort of maddening to have this voice in the back of your head telling you how you should feel and react all the time, and being unable to shut it up.
It doesn't become a problem, a real problem, until Veritas makes Dean spill his guts. The Old Sam inside him hurts and the new and 'improved' Sam can almost feel his residual pain. He doesn't like hearing Dean like this, defeated and cynical, not a spark of happiness in him. It brings out the memories that even Old Sam tries to bury, memories like Dean not trusting him and calling him a monster, things like the apocalypse. They don't hurt him but Old Sam is practically crying, so he knows that the memories should be doing something.
When Veritas calls him out on lying he denies it because well, old habits die hard. But Dean knows the truth now and well, the fact that the truth whammy doesn't seem to work on him is a big neon red flag to a hunter. Right now he isn't Dean's brother, he isn't even human, he's prey. And if he wants to live he needs to tell Dean the truth. So he does.
Dean reacts like he expects, with anger. Old Sam doesn't blame him and he guesses New Sam doesn't really either. Because of the vampire stunt he pulled, Dean could've hurt some of the few people on this earth that he actually cares about, and to Dean, that's a serious offense. He digs deep and pulls out Old Sam's thoughts, trying to remember what he'd do in this situation pre-cage. He'd ask his big brother for help and hope that Dean would forgive him. In Dean's own way, he does both, by putting the knife down and beating him unconscious.
Sam wakes up in the Impala with a throbbing headache. He remembers what happened with Veritas but the pit of dread that should be eating up his stomach isn't there. Old Sam is curiously silent as well but New Sam thinks it's just because Dean's in on the secret now. Old Sam always felt better when his big brother was on his side, fighting to make things right.
"Why didn't you say something weeks ago?" Dean asks. He doesn't sound pissed, just tired, maybe a little disconnected.
Sam shrugs, "Didn't want you to kill me, for one."
Dean shoots him a look like, 'Are you friggin kidding me?' but Sam thinks considering what just happened, he's not completely crazing for assuming that Dean would react like a hunter.
"Ok. And?"
"It wasn't really a problem until I started hunting with you again." It's blunt, maybe a little harsh but it's the truth. Sam thinks that after everything it's pointless to lie and he doesn't think Dean would appreciate another fib anyways.
"Gee, thanks, I missed you too," Dean quips sarcastically but Sam can hear the veiled hurt underneath it.
"You don't understand," Sam replies blandly.
Dean glares at him from the corner of his eye, "Then make me understand."
"I tried to figure it out when I came back. I didn't lie to you about that. But I couldn't find the answers and then I realized…it's better this way."
That earns another look of disbelief from Dean but Sam keeps going.
"If I couldn't feel then I couldn't miss you or feel the pain of hell every damn moment of every damn day. And I knew that if I fixed it then I'd feel all of that, and I didn't want to. I remember the cage, Dean, and I don't think…there's no way I'd survive knowing what that felt like," Sam swallows, feeling Old Sam squirm, "And I knew that if you knew I was alive, that you'd figure it out. You always do. So I stayed away, let you have your piece of normal with Lisa. Old Sam wanted that for you."
"Old Sam?"
Sam doesn't answer, doesn't think he could explain if he tried, "I'm a better hunter like this, Dean."
"No, you're not," Dean replies firmly, "Hunting is about saving people, Sam, it's about helping the people who don't know what they've gotten themselves into. You can't do that if you don't give a shit if those people live or die!"
"I'm a better hunter than I've ever been," Sam says with a shrug, "Most of the time I don't have to worry if they're going to live or die because I take out the monster before it becomes a problem."
"Then why'd you even bother? We both know you could've fought back if you wanted, hell, you might've even won," Dean states as he slams the Impala to a stop in the motel parking lot, "So why didn't you?"
"You really are dense," Sam says with a smirk and a small headshake, "You, you idiot. The emotions are gone but the thoughts and memories are still there. I know that you're my brother; the stupid, arrogant bastard who cares about everyone except himself. I also know that you won't care about me if I'm like this and my memories tell me that there wouldn't be anything worse. I might not be able to feel it right now but deep down, I know I don't want you to hate me. And you will, if I…we…don't fix this."
Dean doesn't say anything for a few minutes. Sam's not sure if he's just too surprised or if he really doesn't know what to say. It doesn't really matter, he guesses.
"I'm sorry. For…" Dean glances over to Sam, his gaze rooming his little brother's newly bruised and bloodied face, "That."
Sam shrugs, totally unconcerned, "I've had worse. It's ok."
Dean nods but he doesn't look completely convinced. Sam isn't surprised. He thinks that the only time Dean didn't feel sorry about hitting him was their fight in the motel room right before he unlocked Lucifer's box.
"You serious about this? About getting to the bottom of your newfound Robocop routine?" Dean asks, squinting his eyes, silently daring Sam to lie again.
"Yeah," Sam replies, "I am."
Dean stares some more, calculating. Sam doesn't bother trying to fake an emotion like he might've a few hours ago. He doesn't see the point and to Dean, a fake emotion would be a lot like lying. So he shuts up Old Sam, locks him away deep inside and lets the New Sam take over. The New Sam, who doesn't care if anyone lives or dies as long as the job gets done, the New Sam who would accept Dean as collateral damage as long as Old Sam didn't get in the way. That Sam, 'Robocop' Sam, wears a blank face and has dead eyes, and feels nothing outside of anger and the urge to hunt. He lets Dean see it, really see it, and waits. He can sense when Dean takes it in because he draws back the slightest bit, as if taking refuge in the Impala door. But Dean being Dean and a Winchester, he doesn't back down. If anything, he just sizes Sam up and then pushes back like he has complete control over what's going on.
"Ok," Dean relents and lets out a huge breath, "We'll figure it out. Not sure how but if we can shove Lucifer back in his toy box, I'm pretty sure we can figure out why your ability to share and care went out the window."
"Yeah," Sam simply replies and tries to dig up the hope and determination that got him through the year of the apocalypse. He can't find it. Dean's going to have to hope enough for the both of them. Sam isn't so sure that it'll be enough but one thing's for sure, Dean's stubbornness will carry them pretty far. He guesses that'll have to be good enough.