Sam emerged from the hot shower, the steam still heavy and thick in the bathroom and grabbed for the towel that was hanging from the rack on the wall. He slung it around his body and tied it off so that it settled on his hips. He ran his hands through his wet hair until it set at the nape of his neck. The moisture from the shower made his skin glisten and he reached for a new towel to dry off his still dripping chest.
The face that stared back at him from the fogged up mirror showed features that were pale and slightly gaunt. His eyes were sunken with worry, grief and exhaustion. He was angry. He was confused. He was heart sick. He missed his Dad.
John Winchester had never seen eye to eye with his younger son and Sam had tested his boundaries on more than one occasion. The last one had been him leaving for college and never looking back. Until that night Dean came to find him.
"Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days."
Sam had wanted a life. He didn't want to hunt forever. His life was not going to be made up of monsters and ghosts and constant road trips that had you sleeping in run down motels. He was going to earn his law degree, settle down with Jess and live a life that was not dictated by his Father or Dean or even by the supernatural.
But everything changed. Dean had needed him. He had been there. And then Jess had been killed by the same demon that had killed their Mom twenty-two years before and Sam had been inconsolable. He wanted vengeance. Rage and grief had driven him all these months. He wanted to completely destroy the thing that had shattered their lives.
And their Dad had found a way. A colt revolver. There would be no exorcism to send the murderous demon back to hell itself; the colt would destroy it. Forever. But now the colt was missing and Dad was dead. Dean had shut him out and he felt like he was losing the only family he had left.
Sam felt hot tears fill his eyes, spill over and trickle down his cheeks. He braced both hands on the bathroom counter and lowered his head as sobs shook his shoulders. He felt weak. Light-headed. Alone.
Deep down he knew it wasn't true. He wasn't alone. But the crushing weight of grief and exhaustion was just too much to shake off. Sam finally glanced up, the tears drying on his hollow cheeks and looked at himself in the mirror again. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. He grimaced at his gray complexion and stood up to search for a washcloth in the cabinet next to the sink. White-hot pain suddenly exploded inside of his skull and Sam groaned loudly and fell against the counter, cradling his head.
No. Not now. Not here.
Pain, so intense that Sam's stomach lurched, shot through his skull like a bolt of lightning. Darkness threatened to drag him down. He grabbed at the counter with one hand and held on, breathing heavily through clenched teeth.
A vision flashed through his brain in short bursts, like flashes from a camera but too bright and agonizing. Nausea gripped him. Sam lashed out, his hand leaving his head to slam against the bathroom mirror. Glass exploded. The sound cut through his head like a chainsaw.
Sam stumbled to his knees.
"How the hell did you get into my house?"
"You're all going to die…"
"Yellow-eyed son of a bitch."
"Sam…"
"I'll send you straight back to hell."
"Sam…"
A gun shot.
Dean running from the salvage yard to the house.
"Bobby!"
"Sam…I'll see you soon."
"Bobby!" Dean frantic. Bobby falling.
Yellow-eyes smiling.
"Sam!"
Pounding. Frantic pounding. Sam's eyes popped open. The vision was gone. His head ached. He was on his knees, arms wrapped around his middle, huddled on the bathroom floor surrounded by broken glass.
There was blood.
Sam gazed down at his hand and saw blood streaming from a few cuts on his knuckles. He felt sick. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the tiled floor. He took a deep breath.
"Sammy!"
Dean. There was pounding on the bathroom door again and Sam finally looked up, his eyes clearing. His head still ached fiercely.
"Sammy, I'm going to break down the door!"
Sam winced and began to slowly get to his feet. He steadied himself against the counter. He reached out and un-locked the door before his brother could be true to his word and break the door down.
The door crashed against the wall as Dean entered the bathroom. Bobby was right behind him. Dean's eyes were wild.
He took one look at his brother and swore violently.
Sam motioned for him to step aside.
Dean ignored him. He reached out and grasped his brother's shoulders. Concern darkened his emerald eyes.
"Sam, you all right?"
"I'm fine." Sam's voice was faint. He saw Dean narrow his eyes at him and knew he wasn't buying it. Sam sighed.
"Can I put some clothes on?" Sam asked.
"You're bleeding," Dean stated.
"Yes I know that," Sam replied, tone hinting annoyance, "Can I please get out of the bathroom now?"
"Damn it Sammy-"
"Dean, I am naked save for only this towel," Sam said, tone deceptively calm.
Dean blinked.
"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. He backed out of the bathroom and stepped aside to let Sam pass. Sam went to the closet and grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt from a hanger. Holding both articles of clothing he turned and stared at them expectantly.
"I'll go get the first aid kit," Bobby said gruffly. He left the room.
"I'll be downstairs. I'm going to make a fresh pot of coffee. When you are dressed you come down. We need to talk." Dean's tone of voice left no room for an argument. He turned and walked out of the room.
Sam immediately headed over to the bed. He dropped the clothes and then sank down to sit on the edge, his head in his hands. He knew he needed to get dressed and go downstairs.
But he couldn't bring himself to move for a while. His stomach still churned. His mind mulled over what he had seen. He inhaled sharply and smelled soap mixed with a hint of copper. Blood. His hand was still bleeding although it had slowed. Sam took a deep breath trying to slow his rapid heartbeat and reached for his clothes.
Once he was dressed it was still several minutes before he had the strength get to his feet and head downstairs, closing the door softly behind him.