Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters contained herein. They belong to the owners of Supernatural.
Rating: K+
Author's Notes: Set in Season 6 after Sam is re-souled. A prompt from hotshow.
Mending the Rift
Dean had wanted to slap Castiel with a fly swatter when he found out that he told Sam what had happened while he was soulless. As if the wall weren't already fragile enough, now Sam was poking at it and feeling guilty for what he couldn't remember. Dean forgave Sam for the vampire thing long before his brother apologized, but Bobby was having a hard time forgiving the kid for trying to murder him while soulless. Sam had apologized, and though Bobby said not to worry about it, it was clear that he hadn't forgiven Sam. Sam felt this acutely and did everything he could think of to reassure Bobby that he [Sam] was safe to be around. He stayed out of Bobby's way whenever he could, even though being at Bobby's house made that difficult; he tried to make noise when he came into a room to give Bobby a heads up; and he was trying his very best to give Bobby time, but that was proving to wear hardest on his heart.
Dean noticed. He noticed that Bobby jumped when Sam spoke from behind him or when he came into a room too softly. He noticed that Bobby talked to the kid in a harsher tone than usual. He noticed that Bobby didn't like to be alone in a room with Sam, and he noticed the distrustful, somewhat angry look in the man's eyes when he looked at Sam. He noticed that Bobby stepped back whenever Sam moved close or stood up. And Dean knew Sam noticed, and it was killing his little brother. Dean saw the sorrowful, pleading look in Sam's eyes when he looked at Bobby. The kid was just begging to be forgiven; he never liked having someone close to him angry with him, though John had been an exception (that was because John was usually angry with Sam for a bad reason, like wanting to finish homework instead of shooting a new gun). The bottom line was that Bobby didn't forgive Sam and it was breaking Sam's heart, and making Dean mad.
Dean did his best to help Bobby forgive his brother. Bobby wasn't budging on his "some part of Sam wants to kill me" position and Dean argued with him in circles several times trying to explain that without Sam's soul it really wasn't Sam. It did no good. So he tried to give Bobby time, but Dean was not known for his patience and so attempted to put Bobby in a position where he had to be with Sam; such as this afternoon, when a little while ago Dean had announced that he was going to the hardware store to pick-up a few things and was out the door almost before all his words had left his mouth.
Bobby knew what Dean was trying to do; it irked him a little, but he couldn't do much about it without incurring the wrath of Dean, such as leaving on an errand of his own. Dean would find out; he had his ways. So now Bobby was sitting in his library, reading the newspaper and trying to forget that Sam was in the house.
He did a good job of that. He didn't hear Sam entre the room through the door behind him. Sam had his nose deep in a book puzzling out what the translation for a spell could possibly be, and forgot to give Bobby a warning.
'Hey Bobby-' Sam started. But that was as far as he got.
'WOAH!' shouted Bobby when the voice broke the silence. He jumped up, knocking an empty whiskey glass to the floor. His surprise turned to anger as he glared up at Sam.
'Dang it, boy! Warn a guy, would ya!' he yelled.
Sam stared at him in shock. 'I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't mean to startle you,' he said, his voice becoming soft.
'Well you did,' Bobby snapped. 'What do you want?'
Sam hesitated, unsure. 'I was wondering if you knew how to translate this. I don't recognise it.' He tentatively held out the book. Bobby took it forcefully and glared at the page. 'It looks similar to Latin but it's not.' Sam continued nervously.
'That's 'cause it's Etruscan, an old version, somewhere around the 6th century BC,' Bobby answered with a snap. 'You'll need to translate it into ancient Latin first.'
'Ok,' Sam said softly, as if any louder would set off a bomb. 'Thanks.' He took back the book and left the room with his head hanging, headed for the stairs.
Bobby felt a twinge of guilt for yelling at the boy. He didn't mean to scare Bobby half out of his mind. The poor kid was also clearly sorry for what he did. But Bobby just couldn't trust him yet, and he was in no mood to go after him now and apologize.
I'll do that later, he thought.
Up in his room, Sam sat on his bed thinking, the book forgotten on the dresser. He felt miserable for making the man so on edge and distrusting of him. He couldn't believe he forgot to make noise before he entered the room. Judging by the reaction, Bobby clearly needed more time and space than Sam was giving him.
How do I make this better? Sam thought. Bobby needed more space, and Sam's staying in his house just wasn't going to make that happen. Sam came to the conclusion that he needed to remove himself from the premises for a while. He decided that he would get a motel room in town until he figured out where he could stay for a longer time if necessary. With this resolve, he stood and packed his bag.
When he was ready to go he grabbed a pad of paper from a drawer and scribbled a note to Dean. He didn't want to get into yet another argument about whose fault Soulless Sam's actions were, or to make Dean feel that he had to follow his little brother away from their adopted uncle. Bobby meant a lot to both of them, and Sam wasn't going to come between them if he didn't have to.
Sam came quietly down the stairs, afraid to make noise and keeping a sharp eye out for Bobby. He heard him storming around the kitchen, slamming doors and muttering every now and then. Too nervous to ask Bobby for a car when he was clearly angry, Sam slipped unnoticed out the door and out of the junk yard, heading off down the road towards town.
The weather was nice, just on this side of chilly and perfect for walking. Sam tried to enjoy it, but his thoughts kept straying back to Bobby and his distrust. He hoped that this separation would help mend things; perhaps Bobby would see him as less of a threat if he were willing to remove himself from his house.
Dean's not gonna be happy, Sam thought. His brother was particular about keeping the family together, and now he especially wanted to keep an eye on Sam because of the wall. The seizure had severely frightened his brother, causing him to admonish Sam about poking the wall in that authoritative, angry voice that Sam rarely denied. He would absolutely hate that Sam was going off by himself.
Sam thought about his actions while soulless. Dean said that it wasn't he, but Sam wasn't so sure. It was his body and his mind, so didn't that make it him? Dean said it was like being possessed, because what made Sam Sam hadn't been there to control his actions. Sam wasn't sure because he would remember the memories as his own if the wall ever fell. Anyway, Bobby considered it Sam, and Sam had heard him say that some part of Sam was willing to kill him. Sam was horrified, and his first instinctive thought was "That's not true," but then he found himself thinking that Bobby might be right, and that made him nervous and insecure in who he was.
After a while, Sam heard a car roaring up behind him, going well over the speed limit. He moved a little farther off the road and walked carefully alongside the deep ditch that ran along what barely passed as a shoulder. A squirrel ran out in front of the truck and the driver, tense and having had one too many beers, swerved violently to the right, hitting Sam along the left side of his back. The driver saw Sam but didn't stop, electing instead to drive away and forget what happened.
Sam flew through the air and landed hard in the ditch, but he didn't get up with only scrapes and bruises. A piece of sharp, rusted metal from a long-ago crash pierced his right side, coming all the way through. Sam didn't have time to cry out in pain, for he bashed his head on a stone sticking out of the dirt, and was knocked unconscious. There he lay, slowly bleeding out.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Dean was gone a little over an hour and Bobby was almost ready to tan his hide for it. Leaving him along with Sam for half an hour longer than necessary – it was grating on Bobby's nerves after being startled. Finally, Dean walked in and called out in greeting.
'Hey, I'm back!' He walked into the library where Bobby was nursing a cup of whiskey in an attempt to keep his nerves calm. 'Hey. Where's Sam?'
'I don't know. Probably up in his room still, pouring over that stupid book,' Bobby answered with a bit of an edge.
Dean raised his eyebrows. 'Is there something I ought to know?' he inquired.
'No,' Bobby lied, 'just quit taking such a long time at the store. A man can only take so much.'
Dean sighed. 'Bobby-'
'Oh don't give me that. I know Sam wouldn't try to kill me now, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable. Ya gotta give me time, boy,' he said irritably, taking a sip of his whiskey.
'Yeah. I just wish you'd hurry up and get over it. I'm gonna go out to the shop, finish that project.' Dean left before Bobby could make a comment on his remark. Man, Bobby irritated him sometimes. Why couldn't he just let it go? It wasn't Sam!
Dean headed for the shop and worked on his car for a good two hours before he came back inside. He scrubbed his hands in the kitchen sink and called Sam's name. When Sam didn't answer, he tried again, louder.
Bobby answered. 'For Pete's sake, go upstairs and find him, boy. Quit all that bellowing; you're making my ears hurt.'
'I'm surprised your ears still hear enough to hurt,' Dean countered with a smirk.
'Watch yourself, boy. I'm the one making dinner tonight,' Bobby lightly threatened back.
Dean chuckled and jogged up the stairs. He reached the door to their room and found it open. There was no Sam, and Dean frowned. Bobby clearly thought that Sam was still upstairs. Dean was about to leave when he spotted a note on the dresser. He picked it up.
Dean,
I am going to stay at a motel in town for a while. I think it might help Bobby calm down. I'll call you when I get there.
-Sam
'Dang it Sammy,' Dean muttered. Now he was ticked. Sam shouldn't be off alone, not with the wall. And if Bobby had anything to do with this Dean would have a fit. He stomped downstairs and into the library.
'Which car did Sam take?' Dean asked brusquely as a way to open the conversation, or rather confrontation.
'What?' Bobby asked.
'Sam left, Bobby. He's decided to stay in a hotel until you forgive him.' The look in Dean's eyes was hard.
'…What?' Bobby asked, dumbfounded. Dean handed Bobby the note. 'Balls,' he said when he finished reading.
'Yeah. Now which car did he take?' It would be easier to find Sam's motel if he knew what car to look for, in case Sam wouldn't tell him which one he was in.
'He didn't ask for one. I didn't even hear him leave.' Bobby said while walking over to his drawer of keys. After some rifling, he announced: 'They're all here. He must have walked.'
Dean looked at him with a look meant to pin down all Bobby's secrets. 'Why would he do that?'
'Dean, you know your brother wouldn't take one of my cars without asking. He must have walked,' Bobby evaded.
'Yeah. But why didn't he ask?' There was silence from Bobby as a look of unease crossed his face. Dean went on alert. 'What happened while I was gone Bobby?' he asked with force.
Bobby sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face, reluctant to tell Dean what he did. 'Sam startled me. I yelled at him. Must have scared him off. He looked pretty sorry,' he confessed.
Dean fixed Bobby with a glare. 'I suppose by "yelled at him" you mean you practically accused him of trying to murder you again?' he asked icily.
Bobby huffed. 'No! Well, I… he might have taken it that way. I really snapped at him. Don't figure he'd be much for talking to me after.'
'So he leaves to give you more space. When was this, Bobby?' Dean's voice was louder than normal.
'Sometime after you left, maybe thirty, forty minutes or so.'
Dean did some quick math in his head. 'So he's been gone for two and a half hours, give or take. I'm going to go after him.'
'Why? He went into town. He ain't running away. And…' Bobby trailed off.
'And what?' Dean prompted.
'And I think a separation might be a good idea. It'll give me some time to recuperate, probably be good for Sam too; I know being around me ain't easy on him. It might do us both some good.' Bobby was ready for Dean to have a fit.
Dean gave a tight nod with his jaw set, and shoving his anger down, ground out: 'Ok. I'm still going with Sam.' He marched up the stairs and started throwing his duffle together. At least this would make finding Sam easier; he would pick the first motel he saw since he was walking. Dean would have gone for Sam wall or not, but right now Dean knew that Sam definitely shouldn't be alone. He had been out of Hell barely a month, and Dean knew that wall itched. Sam may have given him his word not to scratch, and Dean believed him, but he knew Sam. Sam would scratch that wall by accident, without even knowing he was doing it. Sam had always been a curious person, and curiosity was something that didn't just turn off, neither were any memory triggers out there. Dean was ready in five minutes and in his car driving towards town.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Sam stirred. His eyelids slowly opened and he squinted at the dull sunlight and then groaned as it made him aware of the intense throbbing in his head. He couldn't remember why he was lying down, and the memories ran away when he tried to grab them. He slowly lifted his right hand to feel his head and stopped when he saw that his hand was wet with sticky blood. Sam's confused thoughts whirled, unable to think why his hand should be covered in blood. He made to sit up and cried out as a sharp pain tore through his side. He lay back, panting, and tried to breathe through the pain. When he got a handle on the pain, and knowing he couldn't stand, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Dean, which seemed the only thing to do when he was in pain and needing help.
Dean was pulling into the parking lot of the first motel he saw when his phone rang. He answered it.
'Sammy, what room are you in?'
'Dean,' Sam gasped, fighting through the pain in his head.
'Sam? You ok?' Dean asked, his concern peaked.
'Um… no.' Sam answered through the fog over his mind. 'There's… blood.'
'Ok,' said Dean, making himself stay calm. He turned his car around and headed for the parking lot exit. 'Where are you? I'll come get you.'
'Um…,' Sam looked around, 'by the road.'
'The road!?' Dean exclaimed. He heard Sam moan from the loud noise. 'Ok,' he calmed himself, 'How far are you from Bobby's?'
'Bobby's?' Sam repeated stupidly.
'Yeah, Sam. Bobby's. Do you know how far you are?'
'Hmm,' was Sam's answer as black spots danced across his vision, ''M cold,' he said, his voice slurring.
'Sam?' Dean said worriedly. No answer came as Sam lost himself to unconsciousness. 'Sam! Dang it,' Dean muttered. He quickly hung up and dialed Bobby. 'Bobby, Sam's hurt badly… He's somewhere alongside the road. I want you to look for him; I'm headed back your way from town…'K, call me if you find him.' Dean hung up and pressed on the gas a little harder.
Bobby grabbed the first aid kit and hurried to his truck. He was worried. Whatever Sam did while soulless, the kid was still his boy and Bobby didn't want him hurt. Roadside, Bobby thought, Hit by a car more than like. He took to the road, going slowly enough to look for Sam but fast enough to assuage his desire to punch the gas. Dean had sounded worried, and if Dean sounded worried that meant things were serious, especially when it came to Sam.
Bobby pulled over when he spotted a duffle bag resting on the slope of the ditch that ran alongside the road. As he slowed to a stop he saw the long legs of Sam. He pulled out his cellphone as he opened his door.
'Dean, I found him,' he said when Dean answered. He looked down into the ditch were Sam lay and sucked in a breath. 'Dang, kid,' he murmured to himself, 'Dean, get here fast,' he said and hung up before Dean could demand any answers. The ditch wasn't deep, and he walked down into it and laid his hand along Sam's brow. It was cool and clammy, and Bobby tried to not focus on all the blood at the moment.
'Hey Sam. Wake-up, kid,' he said. He gently tapped Sam's cheeks when he got no response. 'Sam.' When nothing happened he decided that Dean could wake his brother while he did triage. He could see the blood on the back of Sam's head and found the rock underneath it. Concussed probably, Bobby thought. Then he moved on to the injury that frightened him the most: the piece of metal sticking out of Sam's side.
'Dang, boy,' he said, 'You never do things by halves, do ya?' He noted with some trepidation that the metal was badly rusted, not to mention jagged. The wound was still bleeding, and not exactly slowly. Bobby was heading up for a towel and bandage to hopefully staunch some of the flow when the Impala whizzed up and screeched to a halt on the other side of the road.
Dean was out the door with impressive speed and hurrying for his brother even as he asked Bobby how he was. Bobby didn't get a chance to answer before Dean saw his brother.
'Oh man,' Dean breathed upon spotting the metal. He felt his stomach twist at the sight and his worry for his brother spiked.
'He's unconscious. Try to wake him while I grab a towel.' Bobby said to give Dean some quick direction. Dean hopped down into the ditch and gently took his brother's head in his hands.
'Hey. Sam. Time to wake-up, kiddo.' He patted Sam's face. 'Sam. Come on, wake-up.' He was rewarded with a moan from Sam, and kept one hand on his brother's face while he came to. Sam's eyes slowly cracked open. 'Heya, Sammy.'
'Mfph. Dean?' Sammy asked.
'Yeah, it's me, Sam. How you feeling, little brother?'
Sam was quiet as he did his best to catalog how he felt beyond being hit over the head with the world's largest frying pan. He became aware of the throbbing pain in his side. 'My side hurts. So does my head.' His voice was slurred.
'Yeah I'll bet,' Dean said as he slid his hand behind his brother's head and felt the lump – and blood – while Sam hissed in pain. 'Sorry.'
Bobby was kneeling behind them waiting for them to finish before he hurt the boy any further. Dean turned his head and spotted Bobby.
'Bobby's here,' he said to Sam, 'He's gonna stop the bleeding.'
'Bobby's here?' Sam asked in confusion. 'Sorry, Bobby. Didn't mean to scare you.'
'Aw hang it all, kid. You're fine,' he replied. But he was worried. Sam wasn't thinking very coherently if the only thing he could think of to relate to Bobby was that he had scared him. He pressed the towel around Sam's wound, but no amount of gentleness could stop Sam's cry. 'Sorry, kid,' Bobby said as he pressed a little harder.
Sam cried out again. 'Don't!' He tried to sit up a little to swat Bobby's hand away but only succeeded in making it worse.
'Hey-hey. Sam. Calm down. Breathe through it.' Dean said as he braced his brother's shoulders. 'Bobby, can we move him with that thing in him? He needs a hospital.'
'Unfortunately, no. It's too big underneath to move with him. We'll need to pull it out.'
Dean sighed. 'Dang. That's gonna hurt.' He stood and turned around, and Sam's confused eyes tracked his every move. 'So how we gonna do this?'
'Well, I think you'll turn him on his side, and I'll pull the thing out. Then we have to get him to a hospital quick, 'cause that gash is gonna bleed like the dickens,' Bobby answered.
'Ok,' Dean said and turned back to kneel next to Sam, making sure he had eye contact. His brother looked so pitiful: his pale, clammy skin and his blood-covered clothes, and his eyes that were clouded with pain and confusion and silently begged him for help. He was reminded of a four year-old Sammy who came in with a badly scrapped knee and, looking up at him with eyes brimming with tears, quietly asked 'Can you make it feel better, Dean?' And make it feel better Dean had. His intentions were no different this time.
'Sam, we're gonna get that metal out of you, but it's gonna hurt. I want you to brace yourself and breathe, ok?' It took a few seconds for that to filter through Sam's brain before he nodded. Dean changed positions and slid his hands under Sam's back and hip. He looked at Bobby who gave him a nod, and then rolled Sam onto his side, ignoring his brother's cry.
Bobby lifted the metal base along with Sam, and then carefully pulled it out, flinching inwardly at Sam's yelps of pain and panting breath.
'You're doing good, Sam. You're doing good,' Dean spoke to his brother. Sam had clenched his fists into his own shirt, and his eyes were squeezed shut.
'Ok, it's out,' said Bobby as he pushed the towel against the wound. 'Sit him up.'
'It hurts. It always hurts,' Sam muttered to himself.
'Sam?' Dean asked with worry colouring his tone. His brother wasn't making sense even for blood loss and a concussion.
'It's burning,' Sam moaned and his eyes darted around as though he had no control.
'No-no-no. Hey. Look at me. Look at me, Sam,' Dean said as he turned his brother on his back once more. 'You're not there. Focus on me. On me, little brother.' Sam's eyes found his and Dean watched as Sam fought his way to the present.
'Mm. Dean,' Sam said when he was more with it.
Dean whooshed out a breath. Another seizure averted. Bobby had watched the whole thing with frightened curiosity, and knew how serious the Hell-seizure must have been to cause that kind of fear to appear in Dean's eyes.
Dean forcibly bent his brother into a sitting position while he gasped and leaned into him. 'Get that bandage on him,' he said.
Bobby was already on it, wrapping the roll as quickly as he could around Sam's torso. 'There. I'll go open the Impala door then we can get him in there.'
They were able to get Sam into the back of the Impala, Bobby carrying his legs and Dean his torso, Sam passing out again when they lifted him. They should have called 911, but a lifetime of avoiding the hospital pushed such thoughts to the side. The ride to the hospital broke every speed limit as well as every stop sign rule when possible. Bobby ran into the emergency room hollering for help, and Sam was placed on a gurney as Dean and Bobby both filled in the paramedics on how they found him. The paramedics were calm but clearly worried when they were told about the rusted metal. Sam was whisked into the operating room without further ado, leaving Bobby and Dean bloodied and standing in the emergency room.
Dean had a lot of time to pace while Sam was in the OR, and Bobby had a lot of time to think. He might have lost Sam, and the last thing he had done was have an explosion so big the kid was too nervous to ask Bobby for a car. He had no legitimate excuse for his actions; Sam had apologized for something that he couldn't remember and would never do. Bobby hadn't been oblivious to Sam's hurt over the way he couldn't help but treat the boy. He saw Sam's pleading eyes and hurt looks. He had also noticed the shine of tears in Sam's eyes when Bobby nearly jumped out of his skin that time Sam had walked into the room with a knife. But how was it not some part of Sam? Bobby wondered.
It was then that Dean sat down next to Bobby. 'Bobby, I talked with Cas about Sam being soulless. I should've told you earlier, but I forgot about it after Sam's seizure.' Dean and Bobby talked until Sam's doctor came out and announced that Sam's surgery went well and that he could have visitors as soon as he was awake.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Sam slowly opened his eyes with the feeling that he had been drugged. A nurse was there – a kind-looking woman in her forties – and she soon noticed Sam's blinking eyes. She came over and informed him of what happened and then offered him water, which Sam gratefully accepted.
'You have two family members who are waiting to see you. Should I go get them?' she asked.
'Yes. Please,' Sam answered, his voice a little raspy. She refilled his water cup and disappeared.
Sam had just finished putting the puzzle pieces of his memory back together when the door opened revealing Dean and Bobby.
'Hey,' Dean said with relief obvious in this voice, 'How you feeling?' He walked over to stand next to the bed.
'Like I got hit over the head,' Sam replied, 'And there's a dull ache in my side.' He turned his head to look at Bobby who had come to stand next to Dean. 'Hi, Bobby.'
'Hey Sam,' he replied. 'You scared us, son.'
'Sorry.'
Bobby chuckled and Dean rolled his eyes. 'You don't apologize for getting run over, idjit.'
Sam smiled the tired smile of someone just out of surgery. 'When can I go home?' he asked.
'The nurse said the doc will be in soon,' answered Dean. 'Now, what happened to you?'
'I heard a car coming, and I moved off the road. It sounded fast. The next thing I knew something hit my back and I was flying through the air.' He looked up at them searchingly. 'What happened? After I got hit?'
'You don't remember?' Dean asked. Sam shook his head.
'Typical concussion,' Dean said, and filled his brother in on what happened. The only things Sam remembered were being in pain, Dean talking, and seeing fire lick at the corners of his mind. Dean gave Bobby a meaningful look when he said that, implying that that was the seizure that almost happened. Just then the doctor came in.
'Hello, Sam, I'm Dr. Mellom' he greeted and Sam lifted a hand in greeting, 'And hello…?'
'Dean, and this is Bobby,' Dean answered and shook the man's extended hand.
'Hi,' said Bobby when he shook the doctor's hand next.
'Well, I bet you all are wanting to know how Sam is.' Dr. Mellom turned to face Sam and pulled out his professional "doctor" voice. 'You have a concussion – a nasty one – and a large, tender knot on the base of your neck.' He looked Sam directly in the eyes. 'You are lucky, young man. A marginally harder hit and you would most likely be dead.' He heard the family shift behind him, saw Sam give a serious nod, then continued. 'You were impaled with a large, rusty car part, and I am worried about tetanus. Your brother didn't know when you were last vaccinated. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?'
Sam thought for a moment. 'When I was 18. About ten years ago.' That was just before he went to Stanford, when he had to have all his shots updated for college.
The doctor's face was serious. 'That is the longest a person should go before they need to be revaccinated. You may just be in the clear. However, I want you to keep a close watch for any muscle spasms, lockjaw, and episodes of shortness of breath. I'll give you a complete list of things to watch out for when you leave. If you have any of the symptoms you must come in immediately; if untreated tetanus will result in death.' He watched Sam carefully to make sure he understood, and when he saw him nod seriously, moved on with the list of injuries.
'The metal also pierced a small section of your liver. Ironically, the metal kept you from bleeding out quickly, though you did lose a lot of blood and have had a transfusion. You also have massive bruising along the left side of your back. It will be very sore and tender for a while. I will be prescribing pain medication for your various injuries along with instructions for how to promote healing for the bruising. You will need lots of rest and minimal activity to heal quickly and correctly. I mean it, Sam; I know the stubborn patients when I see them.'
Sam looked up in surprise and his brother smirked. Sam was rather good about following doctors' instructions, but had a tendency to cut the time to rest short.
Dr. Mellom informed them about the medications and told them Sam could be discharged the following morning. Two days later had Sam resting on the sofa reading a book. Bobby walked in and noticed Sam shifting around in discomfort.
'How long's it been since you had your last dose of pain meds?' he asked.
Sam looked up, looking half hopeful and half apologetic for existing. 'About eight hours,' he answered.
'I'll get you some more,' said Bobby.
'I can get it Bobby,' Sam said, starting to stand but moving like his back muscles were glued to hard metal.
'Stay down, ya idjit. I'll get 'em,' Bobby commanded. He walked out of the room leaving no room for argument and Sam settled back carefully onto the sofa. When Bobby came back and handed Sam the medication, he pulled over a chair and sat down. Sam had been giving him penitent puppy eyes since they got out of the hospital and he just couldn't take it anymore.
'Sam, we need to talk. I've been hard on you, and I shouldn't have been. You couldn't even remember,' Bobby said.
'Bobby-'
'Shut yer trap, I ain't done,' Bobby interrupted before Sam could excuse him for the whole world, but there was no heat in his firm tone. 'Dean talked to Cas about what being soulless entails. And I learned a few things.' He looked Sam directly in the eyes. 'It wasn't you, boy.'
'Bobby, it was,' Sam said in that soft, understanding voice of his. 'Just because I can't-'
'No, it wasn't. It was your body, and even your mind, but it wasn't you. Cas said that being soulless tears apart the soul and spirit, which should never happen. The spirit keeps the body alive, but having no soul leaves the mind with only basic survival instincts. And just because it's done for survival don't mean it's good. Soulless you was trying to survive without morals or conscience; it wasn't your fault. Now I'm glad you feel guilty; I'd be worried if you weren't, but you feel guiltier than you should be. We forgive each other when we get possessed, we should do the same when we're soulless.'
'Bobby-' Sam began, his eyes misty with tears.
'It wasn't your fault, Sam. And I forgive ya,' Bobby said sincerely.
Sam swallowed to keep his tears back and then smiled a closed-mouth smile. 'Thanks, Bobby.'
Bobby, not being well-versed in these kinds of moments, awkwardly cleared his throat and, patting Sam's knee, stood up.
'You need anything else?' he asked.
'No thanks. I'm good,' Sam replied.
Bobby nodded and left, leaving Sam feeling like a great weight had been lifted off him. Dean walked in just then and caught Sammy smiling.
'Talk go well?' he asked. He knew that Bobby had planned on talking to Sam, and he could see him disappearing into the kitchen.
'Yeah,' said Sam, trying to keep Dean from seeing his wet eyes. He saw them anyway.
'Good,' Dean responded and, refusing to enter a potential chick-flick moment, headed into the kitchen to grab something to eat.
Sam returned to his book. All was well within their family again.
The End.
Original prompt: It would be season 6 - after Sam got his soul back. Bobby knows that it wasn't then Sam he knew, that tried to kill him, but soulless Sam, but Bobby can't help but be mad at Sam. Sam knows why Bobby is mad (how did Sam find out - did Castiel tell him?), and Sam understands why Bobby is mad. Sam tries and tries to get Bobby to be not mad at him anymore, but finally realizes that the only way that may happen is if Sam goes away for awhile. Now Sam is not running away, he decides to go to town and stay there. Sam knows how much Bobby means to Dean, and Sam doesn't want to take Dean away from Bobby. Sam leaves Dean a note and takes his stuff and starts to walk to town (Sam didn't ask for a car because he didn't want to bother Bobby). On the way, there is a speeding car (nothing supernatural) and it hits Sam and the driver takes off (Sam has just been involved in a hit and run). Sam gets thrown into a ditch and is hurt badly. Dean comes back (he had taken off for a bit, hoping that Sam and Bobby could resolve their differences) and finds Sam's note. Dean is very mad at Bobby, and then takes off to look for Sam. Bobby also comes with Dean, and during the time it takes to find Sam, Bobby comes to realize that he was wrong to be mad at Sam for something he had no control over, like Bobby had no control when he was processed (back in Season 5). They find Sam and get him to the hospital (by ambulance?). Sam recovers enough that he can go back to Bobby's place, and Bobby and Sam have a long talk while Sam recovers. It would be nice if in the story Bobby helps Dean look after Sam when Sam gets back from the hospital.
I played with theology a little since people can't really be soulless. Please do leave a review! Constructive criticism welcomed. ~Swiss Blue