Sam blinked uncertainly, the gun turning over in his hands. The deer hadn't seen him yet. He should shoot it. They needed food.
Sam couldn't do it. He shifted, the leaves under him cracking. The deer's head turned, staring at Sam for a split second before bounding away.
"Sam? Sam, where are you?"
Dean's voice had a note of worry in it. Sam picked up his whistle carefully, blowing three short blasts. Safe.
Dean jogged up to him. His beard looked strange on his face. Sam gestured to it. When Dean's face creased in confusion, Sam stood shakily. Dean automatically came close to catch Sam in case he fell, and Sam took the opportunity to tug on his beard.
"The beard's cool," Dean defended. "I'm like a pirate."
Sam gestured to his missing eye.
Deans' eyes creased in sad laughter. "Fine, fine, you can be the pirate. I'll shave next time we find a decent razor, fair?"
Sam nodded. He tucked his hair behind his ear, since no one else was around to see his face. They hadn't run across another soul in weeks in their trek across the old United States. Unless they had passed into Canada.
He brushed aside leaves, leaving a clear patch of dirt. Carefully he wrote out, "where are we going?"
"Dunno, kid. We haven't seen a croat in a while, so we're far enough north that we don't have to freeze to death. C'mon, Cas is very proud of his herb soup. Let's hope he doesn't drug us all, right?"
Sam took the arm Dean offered with very little of the embarrassment and humiliation he used to feel. The cold stiffened up his joints, made it harder to walk on his bad leg.
He stumbled a little.
"Easy, cowboy. No rush."
They came upon their small campsite. Their last car had broken down a while back, so they'd been on foot. As they were camped against the trees, they were open to attack from all angles. It made Sam nervous; kept him awake at night.
"We're low on toilet paper again," Cas said mournfully.
"Now you sound like Chuck," Dean replied.
Sam had watched Chuck die, going down fighting underneath several croats. He'd been too far away to do anything—Chuck had been one of the few people in the camp actively friendly to Sam, even though with his visions he'd seen all of the terrible parts of Sam's choices. He hadn't deserved to die.
"Earth to Sammy. Yo, Sam." Dean punched him lightly on the arm. "Eat."
Sam picked up his bowl of questionable soup, sipping at it carefully.
"Pretty bitter, Cas," Dean said.
Cas shrugged. "I work with what I have."
Viscous fluid, flowing down his cheek.
"Should we take out the other one?"
"Nah, we need the freak to see what's going to happen to him."
"C'mon, devil boy, you gonna fight back?"
"—Sam, Sammy, wake up."
Sam woke up with a small groan, scrambling back from the hands on his mutilated face.
"Easy, Sam. Look at me."
Slowly, his vision sharpened. Ever since his right eye had been gouged out, he had found it harder to focus on objects and get a clear picture. Dean was kneeling in front of him, hands outstretched.
Slowly, Sam took Dean's hand. He had managed to entirely muck up the bedding in the small tent, though Cas was still snoring on the far side. It was a wonder Sam hadn't kicked him.
"You want me to get the flashlight so we can talk?" Dean whispered.
Sam shook his head. He methodically straightened the mess of sleeping bags and scratchy woolen blankets before settling down again.
"C'mere," Dean murmured.
Sam turned, staring at Dean's face.
"Don't give me that, princess, I know what helps after a nightmare. Get over here. Plus, it's frickin' cold."
Sam smiled a little, but gave in readily, curling into Dean's warmth.
"Yeah, yeah, we all know you're a giant girl."
Sam poked Dean, to say that he was the one who initiated it. Dean spluttered a little, indignant, before settling down.
"You're okay." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, Sam could still hear a note of uncertainty in Dean's voice. To appease his brother, he wrapped an arm around him, deliberately relaxing so Dean could feel it.
Dean's breaths finally evened out in sleep again, his hand slipping from Sam's hair to rest on Sam's shoulder.
Sam stayed awake the rest of the night.
"Finally," Cas muttered. "Civilization again."
Dean snorted. "If you call this civilization."
They were on the outskirts of a city; they didn't know which one. They weren't even positive what state they were in, at this point. Their northeasterly progression made Sam think they were probably in the remains of Indiana. The suburbs were broken down and mostly deserted. When the first waves of devastation had hit, most people had fled to the countryside, hoping to avoid packs of croats, or cities, to find other survivors. Lucifer had enjoyed strolling through the city streets.
"Your leg doing okay?" Cas asked him.
Sam nodded, declining the arm Cas offered. He always pushed himself to the very limits of his endurance first; only then would he become even more of a burden to them. They already had to walk slower because of his limp.
"I'm going to run ahead and scout," Dean said. He jogged away, and Sam's heart flip-flopped in his chest as he disappeared.
Cas matter-of-factly slid an arm around Sam's waist, pulling his arm over his shoulder. When Sam tried to pull back, Cas refused to let go.
"I know you're hurting, go with it, Sam."
Sam grimaced, trying to keep his weight from leaning on Cas. Cas poked him in the side.
"I'm serious, Sam. I may not have my old strength, but I can at least do this."
Reluctantly, Sam let a little of his weight fall into Cas' grip. If he'd been his old size, he probably would've crushed the smaller ex-angel, but as it was, he barely made Cas breathe harder.
They made their slow progress in the direction Dean had gone. Sam tried to focus on the ground so he wouldn't trip, but his attention kept straying to look for Dean, and he tripped multiple times, nearly taking Cas down with him.
"Hey, Sam, look at that house." Cas tugged Sam to the left, away from Dean. He frowned, tilting his head.
"It looks pretty intact. Scavenge?"
Sam shook his head, pointing in the direction Dean was.
"Okay, you wait for Dean, I'll go see if there's any food." Cas extricated himself from Sam. "Whistle if something's wrong."
Sam sighed heavily, left alone on the deserted street. The wind pierced his coat, chilling him to the bone.
A shuffling noise caught Sam's attention. He went on high alert, hand on his gun. A dog loped out, nosing through some of the garbage lying next to the house.
Unable to make a noise to call the dog, Sam scuffed his foot a little to get the dog's attention. Its ears shot up, instantly going into a defensive position, hackles rising.
Sam knelt awkwardly, bad leg sticking out to the side as he reached out a hand. He didn't move a muscle as the dog watched him warily. Sam huffed a little through his nose, snapping his fingers.
The mutt took a step towards him.
"Sam!"
The dog darted away. Sam tried to stand to follow it, but his bad leg gave out.
"Dude, what are you doing?" Dean called, jogging up. "Where's Cas?"
Sam pointed to the house. Dean cast a considering look at Sam.
"You okay here for a sec?"
Sam nodded. Dean set his pack down next to him and left Sam alone again. Sam looked around for the dog, but it was nowhere to be seen.
"We've hit a gold mine, Sammy," Dean crowed. "Look at this stash of cans! And, to boot, here you go, bud." He tossed a cane Sam's way. "Eh? Not bad, right?"
He really had been a burden walking. Sam hid his embarrassment and hefted the cane. It was solid wood, durable. It would definitely help him get around.
"No drugs," Cas mourned.
They ended up staying in the house for the rest of the night. Dean cracked open a can of beans like it was a king's meal.
Sam tried to take a minimal amount, but Dean's sharp eyes caught him and forced him to eat more.
"Self-sacrificing idiot," he muttered. Sam cringed, ducking his head. Dean didn't notice, moving on to dig into his own portion of food.
"Are we going to go into the city?" Cas asked.
Dean rubbed a hand across his face. "It's a risk, but we should, just in case there are survivors," he muttered.
Cas nodded, slouching back against the moldy couch. "And we could find a car."
"Of course."
They never asked Sam for his opinion, but Sam was okay with that. He couldn't be trusted with important decisions.
He finished his beans, quietly doing the clean-up as the others finished eating. Cas and Dean were conversing as they prepared to fall asleep; Sam wasn't needed here. He slid outside, carefully keeping his bad leg from banging against any of the broken down furniture on his way out. The air was freezing; Sam embraced the feel of it against his skin. It was easier to be numb.
Carefully, he set down a bit of the beans. He snapped his fingers a couple times, hoping to get the stray dog's attention. He took a few steps away, waiting.
The dog didn't show up. Sam sighed, leaning his head against the doorframe.
"Sam," Cas said quietly. "Come inside, where it's warm. We don't want you to get sick."
Sam obeyed. His leg, stiffened by the cold, betrayed him and gave way. Cas caught him, lifting him up with a grunt.
Dean looked disappointed as they entered. Sam avoided his gaze, settling down on the floor with Cas' help.
The journey into the city took them four days. Sam periodically left food whenever they made camp, in the hopes that the dog was following them. It was probably dead from exposure to the cold, though.
Lucifer had liked to line up helpless animals and children and kill them, forcing Sam to watch.
"Hold," Dean called, darting over to a potential car. He opened up the hood, and then slammed it shut with a sound of disgust. "Gutted," he growled.
"We should get a semi," Cas said absently. "Create a mobile camp."
"Not a bad idea, if we can find enough diesel to keep 'er rolling," Dean said.
A short whine had all of them drawing their guns and turning. The dog from earlier cringed back, tail tucked under.
"Nearly wasted a bullet on the mutt," Dean muttered. "Shoo, dog."
"Leave the creature be," Cas said. "He'll go away soon enough."
Sam ignored both of them and began limping his way over to the dog. The mutt took a few steps back, but allowed Sam to close most of the gap.
He snapped his fingers, reaching out his fist carefully. Dean and Cas protested loudly, but the dog still approached, sniffing Sam's knuckles curiously.
There was a collar, so old it had nearly fallen off. Sam reached out, slowly scratching behind the dog's ears.
"What do you think you're doing?" Dean asked sharply.
Sam couldn't make any sudden movements, so he slowly gestured with his free hand for Dean to wait. He set down his pack, and the dog skittishly sprang back.
The other two raised their voices slightly in protest as Sam handed over a little food. Sam smiled as the dog eagerly gobbled it up.
Unexpectedly, a hand grabbed his shoulder. Sam was spun up and around to meet Dean's furious eyes.
"What are you thinking? We can't feed another mouth," he hissed. "I should shoot this dog right now, it would be kinder."
When Dean drew up his weapon, Sam reacted, putting himself in front of the gun without second thought.
"Sam!"
"Move, Sam!"
He shook his head. Taking a step forward, he pressed the end of the gun against his sternum, wrapping his hand around Dean's.
Dean cursed, spinning on his heel and stepping away. "Let's move on."
Sam snapped his fingers and beckoned to the dog. He had made Dean angry enough to stride ahead quickly. Cas took on a middling pace. Sam did his best to keep up, every few steps looking to see if the dog was following.
The mutt was actually making its way behind them. Eventually it caught up to Sam, trotting alongside of him. Sam took a second to brush his hand along the dog's back, smiling at it. This time, it didn't flinch away.
"Sam," Cas hissed, "c'mon."
He went on ahead, catching up to Dean. Sam pushed himself, but pain in his hip kept him from speeding up.
A severe pulse of pain sent Sam to his knees on the concrete. He grunted, clawing at his hip uselessly. A cold nose nudged Sam's face. The dog licked at the inadvertent tear squeezed from Sam's intact eye. He huffed a small laugh, resting most of his weight on his good knee and his palm.
The dog moved away, and Sam felt a pulse of loss as it left him.
It barked. The sound echoed against the abandoned buildings.
"Sam!"
The dog growled a little as the sounds of boots running towards them. Dean skidded to a stop next to him, kneeling down. "What happened? Are you hurt? What's wrong?"
Sam pointed to his hip. As soon as Dean was close enough, he lunged a little, burying his face in his brother's shoulder. It was selfish of him, but contact with Dean always helped against pain.
Dean's fingers dug into the muscle. Sam whined in pain until the spasming finally stopped.
"I'm sorry," Dean whispered, referring to everything.
The dog ended up being named Lucy. Sam had wanted something else, due to the constant "I Love Lucy" jokes from Dean, but since he wouldn't ever be calling the dog by name, he figured it wasn't worth the fight.
Lucy let out a little sigh, curling up tightly against Sam. She had attached herself firmly to him, despite Cas and Dean being the ones to give her proper commands.
"We'll make our way into the center tomorrow. Figure out what city we're in, at least," Dean murmured. He and Cas were doing their planning sessions while Sam huddled by their small fire with Lucy.
"We really need transportation. Sam's wounded limbs cannot handle the stress," Cas said.
Dean muttered a curse. Sam flinched, curling his fingers in Lucy's soft fur. He had found some old shampoo and bathed her—after the three of them had managed to wash themselves, of course.
"Is he asleep?" Dean murmured.
"It appears so. The dog is with him."
"At least he has something, now," Dean said. Sam didn't understand, and shifted a little to listen better.
"Does he not have us?" Cas inquired.
"Of course he does. It's just I don't think he wants us. He barely looks at me—us."
"And you think that means he does not want us around?"
"We're a constant reminder of how he screwed up. Would you want us around if you were him?"
Sam pressed his face into Lucy's fur as Cas rumbled, "that sentence does not make sense."
"Don't worry about it. We'll pick up some kind of transport tomorrow."
Sam fell asleep counting his failures.
Sam's leg began aching not ten minutes into the drive. He shifted a little, carefully watching to make sure Cas and Dean didn't notice.
"No, look, this road seems big enough to be a main way through the city," Dean said. He growled, looking around. "What city are we in, anyway?"
"I do not recognize it," Cas said.
"Sam?"
Sam had recognized it long ago, but he stayed silent. They did not need to know.
"Hey, look, a grocery store. Big one, too. Might as well check, right?" Dean said.
Lucy whined a little, licking Sam's face.
"That dog need to pee?"
Sam shook his head, brushing his hand over Lucy's brown fur.
They pulled up to the grocery store. Dean gestured with his gun, and Cas led.
Spray painted on the wall of the grocery store were directions to a safe base. The three of them stared at it speculatively.
"It would be nice to have back-up again," Cas said mildly.
Dean grunted. "Food first, then we'll decide."
Sam shuffled through the grocery store, Lucy at his side. He found a couple cans of dog food that weren't too badly expired. He gave Lucy half a can and put the rest in his pack.
"Move another step, and we will kill you."
Sam stiffened. The voices echoed through the store, and had come in the direction Cas and Dean had gone hunting for food. Silently, he pulled out his gun, gesturing for Lucy to stay quiet.
"Whoa man, we didn't know this was taken territory. We're just passing through." Dean's voice was on its most passive setting. "We'll leave the food, be on our way."
"Yeah, and who's to say that you aren't the scouts for a larger group? You two are coming with us."
Sam peered out from behind a shelf, watching Dean and Cas being led away. He bit his lip uncertainly. They were piling them into an old humvee. That left their car open. As soon as the humvee was far enough, Sam limped his way over, letting Lucy in before he started the car. He had a brother and an ex-angel to find.
"—and then Kelsey said that if I brought back a deer she'd consider marrying me."
The other man whistled. "Girl asks for a lot."
"But she's worth it," the guard said dreamily. The other snorted, punching him in the arm.
"Go take a walk down the wall, loverboy."
Sam waited until they had gone opposite directions before going forward. He could still pick a lock in under a minute, even with gloves to protect against the cold.
Lucy whined a little, and he quickly patted her head to silence her. They slipped into the complex together, staying close to the wall to avoid detection.
After sidling by people conversing, Sam gathered that the camp was riled up over the new visitors, and that said new visitors were being held in the camp commons. He maneuvered from shadow to shadow, Lucy trotting silently next to him.
The commons building was an old post office. Sam stared at the architecture for a moment before deciding to break in through a window. It was difficult, boosting Lucy through and then fitting his own stiff bad leg through the small opening.
The doors were made of a cheap wood. Sam pressed himself against one, listening carefully. When he didn't hear anything, he opened it slowly, wincing at the hinges creaking.
Lucy nudged his leg, and he carefully snapped his fingers so she would heel.
The faint sounds of shouting drew Sam down the hall. The door was propped open, so Sam was able to look through the space provided.
"I say we finish 'em off now. Send a message to whatever invaders they're heralding," a woman snarled.
"We have no proof," a calmer voice said. "There's no need to overreact."
"I don't like it, Jim."
"Well, nobody has to like it. I'm just saying, it's dumb killing people when half the earth's population is gone."
Sam had no way to know if any weapons were pointed at Dean and Cas, but he had to act while he still had the element of surprise. He slammed the door open, pointing the gun at the people in front of Sam and Dean.
"What the—"
"Whoa, put the weapon down!"
Sam bared his teeth, gesturing to Cas and Dean vehemently. They seemed to get the picture, backing away from his companions slowly.
One of them cursed. "That's . . . that's the devil."
"No. I thought he was dead!"
Sam cut through their blabber with his free arm, pointing to the way Cas and Dean were still tied up. Staring at him warily, they did his bidding. They probably thought he was Lucifer still.
"This has been fun," Dean said as soon as his gag was out. "But let's blow this popsicle stand."
Sam zoned out as soon as Dean started ranting about stupid people and freakin' Detroit. They were about half an hour's drive out of the city before he finally took a breath and glanced into the backseat where Sam was awkwardly folded up.
"Thanks for getting us out of there, Sammy. You were quite the hero."
Sam flushed, privately pleased. He scratched at Lucy's fur.
"I didn't know we were in Detroit," Dean said after a moment. "You should've said something, Sammy. We could've turned around, easy."
"No matter," he carefully wrote out, passing it up to Dean.
"It does," Dean huffed.
Cas grumbled in his sleep, twisting his seatbelt around awkwardly.
Sam swallowed, scratching again at his notebook. "I did not want to remember. There was too much pain."
Dean alternated between reading Sam's note and carefully driving through the broken down roads of downtown Detroit.
"But you're okay now?" he asked.
Sam nodded when Dean was looking in the rearview mirror.
His brother reached over the back of the seat, grabbing Sam's hand before Sam knew what he was doing. His initial reaction was to pull away, but he let himself relax when Dean refused to let go.
"We're gonna be okay," he promised. Rashly, in Sam's opinion. "We're gonna find a camp, do our best to make it safe. How does that sound?"
Sam spelled out "crazy" on Dean's palm.
"Bitch," Dean said. His hand was tense in Sam's.
Carefully, Sam traced "jerk" on Dean skin. His brother's smile was almost as big as it had been before Sam's mistakes.
A/N: It's actually been harder than I thought to write fic, so apologies for my lack of output. In any case, I'm playing around with this 'verse a little, and we'll see if it goes anywhere. I am also trying to come up with another 'verse I could do in the fashion of unseen and all.