Summary: So much in his life, Sam thought as he tossed a second match into the grave, was unfinished endeavors. Jess… college… his relationship with his father… Hell, he couldn't even manage to die right.

Episode Tag: Sometime during Season 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing… if I did I would treat them a lot nicer than their current owners.


Finite


So much in his life, Sam thought as he tossed a second match into the grave, was unfinished endeavors. Jess… college… his relationship with his father… Hell, he couldn't even manage to die right.

To his credit, they had managed to avenge their mother – in the end. There was that. But after two decades of questing, the satisfaction had been fleeting. Sam had already been looking toward the next giant threat – Dean's deal. Not that any of his worrying or research about that had done him – or Dean – one ounce of good, he thought resentfully as Dean returned to the grave and handed him a beer.

Dean had sacrificed himself in some grand gesture of brotherly love. A gesture Sam could never hope to match. Just one more unattainable task, Sam thought miserably. Not that he hadn't tried. He had jumped into Hell carrying Lucifer piggy-back after all. But just like he couldn't seem to do anything else right, he came back wrong… incomplete. Add in all the shit with Ruby back in the day… well, Sam thought grimly as the bones started to char below him, some scales would never be balanced.

Maybe that was why Sam liked these simple salt-and-burns so much. There was a clear beginning, middle, and end. They always started with a news article. They always centered round some lost soul. Most importantly, they all ended like this: with him and Dean hovering over some burning grave in the middle of nowhere drinking a beer.

They were covered in mud and Dean's forehead needed stitches, but they had put in an honest day's work. Staring into the flames, Sam let himself have the moment. The fate of the world had not hung in the balance today. Angels and demons had not waged battle nearby. Nevertheless, lives had been changed. Because of his actions, lives were better.

This accomplishment was finite – simple – pure. He didn't get that very often. And for tonight, he thought, it just might be enough. Poking the burning remains with a stick to stoke the fire, Sam smiled.


AN: I have officially lost it, but thanks for reading anyway. Can you believe the idea for this story came from me thinking about grading papers (Salt & Burn) and my thesis (Azazel)?

Cover Image: : / / the music in the dark . 2014 / 09 /2 -04_ children_ shouldn't _play_with_ dead_ ?w = 750