Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Supernatural or the characters presented by the show. This writing is mean tstrictly for entertainment purposes.

Athor's note: This isn't really my normal style at all, but I like it. It's a fill for a prompt on ohsam: Sam smokes. Everyone asks him if he's going to stop. Enjoy! =)

The first time Sam smokes a cigarette is a week after Jess's death.

He's taking a walk—I'm fine, Dean, I just need some fresh air—and there's a guy sitting on the park bench tapping a stick out of the pack, and then he sees Sam and asks if he has a lighter, which Sam does.

Sam sits next to the guy while he lights up, and when the guy says in his heavy British accent, "You don't look so good, mate. Want one?" Sam thinks Why the fuck not?

It burns like hell and tastes like—god, he doesn't even know, fucking nasty—but he finishes it anyway, even asks for another. Somehow the pure smokey smell calms him, almost makes him forget about the way smoke smells mixed with the scent of burning human being.

When Sam returns to the motel room later that night, the first thing out of Dean's mouth is, "You been smoking?"

Sam shrugs, takes off his jacket.

"Look, Sam." Dean speaks haltingly. "I know you miss her. Man, I know. But don't start this, okay? Just—don't."

Sam doesn't respond, just gets into the shower and tries to wash the smoke-smell out of his hair.

Sam taps the pack of cigarettes against his thigh, removing a stick and then sliding the box back into his pocket. He sticks the cigarette between his lips and cups his hands around the end to light up and takes a deep drag.

"I told you not to." Dean stands beside him and crosses his arms. "Sam."

"Sorry," Sam apologises even though he kind of isn't. He exhales slowly, and the smoke clouds in front of his face.

"Are you gonna stop?" Dean asks, but Sam can tell from his older brother's tone that he already knows the answer.

So he doesn't respond, just takes a long pull and tilts his head toward the starry night sky.

It gets really bad after their dad's death.

He kills almost a pack a day and Bobby asks how long he's been smoking. Sam shrugs.

"A while," he says, and settles a cigarette between his lips as he fishes a lighter out of his pocket.

"Are you gonna stop?" Bobby asks.

Sam inhales, feels the smoke burn down his throat. He taps the pack against his leg and pretends he doesn't hear Bobby mutter "Idjit," under his breath.

"I can hear it," Dean says one day while they're in the Impala. "When you breathe. Rattling around in your lungs like you've got fucking pneumonia."

Sam doesn't say anything, but he turns his head to look at his brother. Dean's knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

"Are you gonna stop?"

Sam exhales and turns back to the window.

"Sam—" Dean starts.

"I know." Sam says

"I need a smoke," Sam says quietly as they pass through a little town just inside the border of Arkansas.

"Sam—"

"Dean." Sam's already got the pack out of his pocket.

Dean's voice sounds strained. "Sammy—"

"If you don't pull over I'll light up right here," Sam threatens lowly. Dean swallows and stops the car.

"You gotta quit, Sammy," Dean begs, standing next to Sam as the younger man takes a drag of his cigarette. "Please. I just got you back."

"And how long is that gonna last, Dean?" Sam holds his brother's gaze. "You're going to Hell. Right now, this is all I have."

Dean's expression twists in remorse and he gets back into the car.

Sam crushes the butt of his cigarette under his foot.

"You taste like smoke." Ruby says one night. Sam shrugs. "You know how bad that is for you?" she asks, wrinkling her nose slightly. Sam shrugs. "Are you gonna stop?" she asks. Sam shrugs.

"Did you even stop smoking?" Dean asks when Sam tells him about the demon blood.

Sam shakes his head.

"Fuck you, Sam," Dean snaps angrily. He slams the door behind him.

Fuck me, Sam thinks.

"If you say yes, I'll get rid of that annoying rattling in your lungs," Lucifer offers. "I'll even take away the addiction."

Sam ignores him, fiddling with the smouldering cigarette between his fingers and staring up at the water-stained ceiling from his place on the bed.

"Smoking is bad for you, Sam," Lucifer says.

Sam brings the cigarette to his lips.

Every time Sam dies, he comes back to life and his lungs are perfect. There's nothing to indicate that he had ever smoked a day in his life.

Except for the addiction. That never goes away. So when Castiel asks him if he's going to stop smoking, Sam says he doesn't know.

He doesn't see the point anymore.

RoboSam smokes a lot.

He goes through a pack a day, sometimes more.

Dean burns all of RoboSam's cigarette's one morning.

RoboSam breaks Dean's nose.

When Sam gets his soul back, he doesn't stop smoking. He smokes less, of course—way less, because Dean has suddenly become the keeper of Sam's money and doesn't give him enough to buy more than a pack a week—but he doesn't stop.

"Are you ever gonna quit?" Dean asks as Sam walks back to the car with a brand new pack in his hand.

"Eventually," Sam replies. He hopes, for Dean's sake, that it's true.

When Cas breaks Sam's wall, Dean doesn't let him smoke.

But it makes Sam fidgety and restless, and soon Dean can't take it anymore.

"I thought you wanted me to stop," Sam says as Dean hands him a pack of cigarettes.

"Not right now, Sammy," Dean says, and swallows hard. "Not right now."

Sam goes outside to light up.

"Smoking is still bad for you, Sam," Lucifer says.

Sam ignores him, mostly because he's outside of a public place and he really doesn't like the looks people give him when he talks to a figment of his imagination that only he can see. Anywhere else and he'd have told the devil where he could shove it.

"Aw, Sammy, don't be that way," Lucifer sings. "We're all friends here."

Sam steps on his cigarette and takes a stick of gum from his pocket before turning back into the diner.

After Bobby dies, Dean is always watching him. Sam can feel his eyes on him as he takes a pull from his cigarette.

"If you want to say something, Dean, then say it," he snaps finally, turning to face his brother.

Dean watches him for a moment. "Are you gonna stop, Sam?" he asks.

"Dean," Sam starts. He places the stick between his middle and pointer fingers and drops his hand, sighing in defeat. "I can't. Not now."

Dean doesn't say anything, just nods and continues watching him.

Sam bites his bottom lip and turns away, ignoring the stinging in his eyes as he brings his hand up.

When Dean is in Purgatory, Sam doesn't smoke nearly as much as he usually does. It doesn't feel right. Dean hated Sam's smoking.

And Amelia isn't fond of it either. She makes him take a shower every time he has a cigarette.

Sam steps into the shower to wash the scent of smoke from his body.

Are you gonna stop? Dean asks in his head.

Amen, big brother, Sam thinks.

"Do you still smoke?" Dean asks one day in the car. Garth won't tell him what he'd said to Sam, and Sam prefers not to think about it.

Sam shrugs. "Not as much."

"Good," Dean says. He clears his throat. "That's good, Sammy."

Dean doesn't let Sam smoke during the trials. Period. End of story. No matter how fidgety Sam gets.

He buys Sam nicotine gum though, and Sam doesn't have it in him to tell Dean that it's not the same.

Instead, he says, "Maybe this time I'll stop. For good."

Dean smiles and squeezes his shoulder.

So tell me what you think!