AN: A little One Shot that explores Sam's feelings about his newfound soullessness, with a bit of hurt!Sam thrown in (because, as all Samgirls know, hurt!Sam is the one ingredient that makes everything tastier!). Hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
Warning: Spoilers for S6.
"I'm telling you, Dean, she would've understood! Her whole family was killed by that thing! She wanted to help us!" Sam argued. He leaned his head back against the headrest. He and Dean were on the outskirts of a small town, driving.
"Not by being used as bait!" Dean yelled. "God, it's like you're not even human anymore, Sam! We're talking about a teenage girl! One who just lost her family tragically, and had no idea who or what to turn to. I was not about to take advantage of that by sticking an 'Eat Me' sign on her back!"
The two had been at odds all afternoon over their latest case. Sam had wanted to use the girl as bait, but Dean had been adamantly against it. Thankfully, it hadn't come to that, and the creature had been killed. But Dean couldn't let go of the disturbing way Sam had been so willing to risk an innocent life.
"She wanted revenge, Dean. She deserved it, after what that thing did. We were in a position to give her that chance, in a controlled and safe way. How is that wrong?"
"Dammit, Sam, I already told you!" Dean shouted with frustration. He turned to his brother, eyes blazing. "You don't know what's wrong or right anymore! That's why I'm here, remember? And unless you found your soul in the last twenty-four hours, and just didn't tel-"
"DEAN! Look out!" Sam screamed.
Dean whipped his head toward the road, where a huge buck was standing not 20 feet away. The creature made no effort to move, so Dean grabbed the wheel and violently turned it, causing the Impala to narrowly avoided hitting the animal. Unfortunately, the sudden change of direction was too much for the Impala, and it began drifting toward the edge of the hill, off the road. Dean slammed his foot desperately on the brakes, but the wheels locked and sent the car careening out of control. Both brothers felt the impact as the Impala crashed through the guardrail and the car began its descent down the side of the wooded hill.
Trees and ground blurred in Sam and Dean's vision. Then, only darkness.
. . .
Dean groaned as he fought his way back to consciousness. He lifted his face, and winced as nausea overwhelmed his senses. Blinking sluggishly, he turned his head side to side, an ineffective attempt to clear his blurry vision. After a few moments of deep breathing, he could see his surroundings, and the bile in his throat had settled back into his stomach.
"Sh't," he mumbled, taking stock of his injuries. His head killed. Lifting a hand gently to his forehead, just above his hairline, Dean felt a wet lump. Great, he thought. Well at least it's not bleeding too much. Laying his hand across his lower chest, Dean carefully prodded his sore ribs. Maybe bruised, but definitely not broken. Other than that, Dean decided he was no worse for wear. When he got himself fully oriented, he turned his attention to the form slumped in the seat next to him.
Unmoving.
"Sam?" Dean rasped urgently. The figure remained still, and Dean felt his heart clench. He was shocked at how connected he still felt to the man beside him, despite the fact that for all intents and purposes…Sam was nothing but an empty shell. Still, his heart thudded deeply against his chest when he looked at Sam's pale face.
"Wakey-wakey, little brother. Sam!" He reached over and jostled his brother's shoulder. After an endless moment, Sam began to stir, a pained moan escaping his lips. Dean watched as his brother took in his surroundings.
"You 'k?" Sam whispered, body taut and hunched. His right arm cradled his abdomen while the other hung uselessly at his side.
"Just a knock to the skull. Nothing to worry about. You, on the other hand, don't look so good," Dean said. "Where you hurt?"
"M'fine," Sam mumbled. "Can we get out of here?" He moved to unbuckle his seatbelt, wincing in pain.
"Not so fast, Butch," Dean said. He looked around, piecing the accident together. It looked as if Dean's distraction had caused the car to swerve off the road and right down the hill. Thankfully, Dean couldn't see any immense damage to the car. It seemed they'd nicked a few trees, but avoided any head-on collisions. Sam's side of the car was particularly banged up, a dent in the door, a smashed window, and lots of superficial damage.
"Looks like we were lucky," Dean said. "Won't take much to fix her up, just some scratches and dings."
"Good," Sam whispered. Dean looked over, and noticed the way Sam's eyes were pinched tightly closed, and how he cradled himself awkwardly. Then, he eyed the limp arm, hanging strangely from the shoulder.
"Dislocated shoulder?" Dean asked. Sam gave a tight nod, and without warning, Dean gripped the limb and popped it back into place.
Sam cried out in pain before quickly biting his lip and going silent. After a few seconds of deep breathing, he panted, "Thanks."
Dean ignored the whispered word and asked, "What else?"
"Nothing, I'll be fine," Sam replied.
Dean's lips tightened in anger. "I thought we were done with the lies, Sam."
Sam breathed shakily. Me too. "Just a few cracked ribs, dude, nothing to freak out about. Let's just go."
Dean eyed his brother carefully before unbuckling his seatbelt. With a deep breath, he opened his door and hoisted himself out of the car. He gripped the door hard as dizziness tainted his vision and his legs began to shake. After a few seconds, the feeling subsided and he staggered around to Sam's side of the car.
As he reached the door and opened it, he spotted a long laceration across the side of Sam's head. It was bleeding sluggishly, leaving long streaks of red across the side of Sam's face.
"Didn't feel the need to mention that?" Dean asked angrily.
"Just a scratch," Sam said weakly. He was still hunched over, arms protecting his ribcage.
"Let me see," Dean said, moving to lift Sam's shirt. As soon as his fingertips made contact with Sam's skin, the younger man cried out in pain. Dean shot Sam an apologetic look before pulling the fabric up.
Bile once again rose in Dean's throat as he examined his brother's damaged abdomen. Vivid bruising stood out starkly against the damaged skin, but what had Dean's stomach rolling was the curves and jagged lines of broken bone, pressing painfully against stretched skin. It looks as if every rib in Sam's ribcage had cracked, broken, shattered. The outline of each bone was visible through Sam's bruised skin, and Dean could trace every fault and fracture. With each agonizing breath, the ribs shifted, further aggravating the damage.
"Jesus, Sam!" Dean yelled, causing Sam to flinch. "That's not a few cracked ribs! That's a freaking shattered ribcage! It looks like you took a hit from a damn freight train!"
"It's not that bad," Sam insisted. "Looks worse than it is. I just have to wrap them and I'll be fine."
"Hate to break it to you, bro, but Ace bandages aren't gonna do shit for that," Dean said disgustedly. "I'm calling Cas."
Sam's breath hitched. "I don't need Cas, Dean. I'm serious. You're blowing this way out of proportion."
"Oh, am I?" Dean said. "Well, by all means, prove me wrong. Go ahead, just pop right out of the car, why don't you?"
Sam glared before drawing his hands away from his abdomen and placing them firmly on the door. "Fine. Get out of my way."
Dean stepped aside and watched his brother draw in a shaky breath and, with painful slowness, lever himself into a standing position. Sam's brow furrowed in concentration and just as Dean's had, his legs began to buckle. But thankfully he caught himself and held on tightly to the door.
"Can we go now?" Sam asked, masking the tremble in his voice with impatience.
Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, fine. I'll grab the keys and we can walk up the road a bit. I think I saw a gas station about a mile back."
Sam nodded in agreement, and Dean made his way back around to the other side of the car.
However, as Sam took a step forward, his legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground. Dean was just snatching the keys from the ignition when he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, rushing to kneel beside his brother.
"M'fine. Just slipped," Sam murmured, struggling to stand. Dean put an arm under his brother's shoulder, helping him to a standing position. Then, he leaned Sam against the damaged car.
"Enough is enough. I'm calling Cas."
"No!" Sam cried. His hazy eyes flicked desperately to Dean, his breath coming in rapid pants. "I'm fine. It's nothing, let's just go."
"Dammit, Sam. I'm not gonna drag your ass all over God's creation just because you're being a stubborn bitch." Dean turned his face to the cloudy sky, ready to shout for the angel.
"Please!" Sam said desperately, wincing at the torque of his chest as he straightened up. "I don't need Cas. He's busy anyway. It's not bad, nothing we can't take care of ourselves."
Dean sighed frustratedly. "I'm not saying it's bad! I'm saying we can't afford to be slowed down by your goddamn obstinacy!"
Sam went quiet, and Dean shook his head. "Look, Sam. I've had broken ribs before, and I know that they suck. And with ribs broken this badly, you're not gonna make it much longer before you pass out from the pain. So why waste time when we have a healer on call?"
"It's fine, Dean," Sam said lowly.
"No, it's not! Because it's not just your time we're wasting. I know you don't have a soul, dude, but that doesn't give you a free pass to be a selfish jackass!" Dean yelled angrily.
"It's not that, Dean," Sam growled.
"Well what is it then? Is it Cas? What, you don't trust him anymore? Oh, I forgot," Dean spat. "You can't trust. Not now. So what is it Sam? Why are you being so stubborn?" Dean glared accusingly at his brother, anger emanating from the hazel.
"Because I don't freaking want to be healed!" Sam screamed.
Dean was taken aback by the intensity of Sam's words. There wasn't emotion in them per say, but it was as close as Dean had seen to it since Sam's return.
"What do you mean you don't want to be healed?" Dean said, his eyes narrowing at his brother.
"I mean that this," Sam said forcefully, motioning to his broken ribcage. "This is all I have." His voice cracked with the pain his exertion was causing.
"What are you talking about, Sam?" Dean questioned.
"This is it for me, Dean! Don't you get it? Without this sting, this burn, this pain, I'm not human. I'm a monster. A freak. I'm no better than the crap we hunt. This is my barrier. This-" he said, poking a finger violently into his ribs, "-is what keeps me human." By the end of his rant, Sam was panting, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead, which was scrunched in pain. His body began to slide down the side of the car, unable to muster up enough energy to keep him upright.
"Whoa," Dean said, catching Sam's descending form and lowering him gently into a sitting position.
The brothers spent a few moments, holding that pose. Sam, face pale, back hunched in pain. Dean, eyes roaming his brother's face, arms holding up the trembling form.
When he trusted his voice enough to speak, Dean cleared his throat and said apologetically, "Sam…"
"I know," Sam said tightly, eyes still pinched closed. "You have to call Cas. I understand."
Dean looked down, and after a few moments looked up again and whispered quietly, "You know we're gonna find a way out of this, right Sam? We're gonna find your soul. It won't be like this forever."
"Yeah," Sam said, not meeting his brother's gaze.
Not knowing how to respond, Dean simply stood up and yelled, "Cas, we could use your help down here."
A split-second later, the angel materialized in front of them, cocking his head questioningly. Dean motioned to Sam, who was still cradling his abdomen. Wordlessly, Cas leaned down, touching a finger to Sam's head.
And just like that, the pain was gone.
And just like that, the barrier was dissolved, leaving Sam once again questioning his own existence. Monster. Freak. Brother. Sam. Which was he? Or had they all become synonymous?
With a brief nod, Cas disappeared. Dean extended his hand to Sam, and helped him up from the dark, sodden ground.
"Like I said, there's a gas station a mile or so back. If we load up the Impala, we should be able to at least drive her to a body shop outside of town," Dean said.
Sam nodded, and the two stood silently for a moment. Then, Dean spoke cautiously. "You good?"
Turning away from his brother, Sam replied, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
The words sting Sam's mouth and ears. The acidic syllables bubble up his throat and flow out his mouth, choking him. He knows he shouldn't lie to his brother, and numerous situations have proven exactly why. But the venomous lie burns deeply within him, blazing a hole in Sam's empty core. Even this lie, the simplest of deceits, wounds him with its hollowness. It's burning him up inside.
"Let's get going," Dean says woodenly.
Sam's mouth stings. Sam's throat burns. Sam's heart hurts.
Oh well, Sam thinks, beginning the long walk with his brother at his side. At least I'm feeling something.