Summary:

Sam, Dean, Bobby, and Liam are all back together again, safe and sound at Bobby's house. Liam should be happy, and he is.

But he also kind of isn't. And he doesn't know why. It's going to be up to Sam to figure out what's going on in Liam's head and what to do about it... if he can manage the patience.

"Pappy!"

Sam looked up from his breakfast and froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. He had heard all about John's ghostly presence from Bobby, but he hadn't expected John to just… show up in the middle of the kitchen unannounced.

"Woah, hold up, little man." John held his hands out in the universal gesture for 'stop,' an apologetic sort of look crossing his face. "Sorry. Can't take hugs today. I haven't been able to make myself solid since yesterday."

Liam's shoulders slumped slightly. "Oh." He bit down on his bottom lip. "Does that mean you're going away?"

John cast Sam a brief look, like he was trying to judge how much Sam wanted him to share. "Uh…" He looked back at Liam. "Yeah, buddy, it probably does."

Liam forced a weak smile and nodded understandingly. "Okay." He took a little breath and brightened a little, gesturing toward Sam with both arms. "We found them! They're home now."

John chuckled softly. "Yeah, I can see that." He shifted his gaze from Liam to Sam, flickering briefly. "Hey, Sammy."

"Hi, Dad," Sam replied, surprised to find himself a little breathless when he rose from his chair. "I, uh, I would hug you, but…" He gestured to John's entire body, or lack thereof.

"Yeah. Yeah, can't do much about that." John pursed his lips and nodded a few times before heaving a sigh. "Liam says you've been busy."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and then put both hands on his hips. "Yeah. It's been pretty crazy here." He nodded a few times. "Uh, you were looking for Castiel, right?"

"Yeah." John heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his head. "I can't find him anywhere. For a while, there was a kind of… tugging I could follow. I figure that medal of mine never kept my ghost here before, so he had to have done something to it, and whatever he did… it was connected to him somehow. But yesterday morning, a few hours before I got stuck as a hologram, the pull just… vanished."

Sam reached up and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Okay. We'll keep looking for him."

John nodded in response but remained silent.

They just sort of stood there, nodding faintly, maintaining eye contact for a few seconds before looking away. John slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels slightly. Sam cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair before returning it to his hip. Liam looked between the two of them, eyebrow raised and face scrunched up with confusion.

"Dad, I—"

"Sammy, I—"

They both stopped, and Sam was quick to give John the stage.

"Go ahead." Sam gestured to the space between them.

John let out a sigh and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before leveling his head and looking directly at Sam. "I just… wanted to say how proud I am of you." His lips twitched into a faint smirk. "I know how hard it is to raise a kid in this life. You're doing better than I did—better than anybody I've ever seen." He reached out to tousle Liam's hair but stopped halfway, remembering his incorporeal condition. "You've got a great—"

Sam felt his chest tighten when John's voice cut out, and he couldn't stop the surge of panicked frustration. He didn't want his dad to go yet. He wasn't ready.

"You've got a great kid." John smiled again, briefly, and then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna try and talk to your brother, but if I can't make it happen, you tell him from me…" John sighed. "He did what he had to do, and… no matter what, I'm still proud of him." He paused. "But if he ever sells his soul again, I'll come back from the grave and beat him myself."

Sam blinked, stuck somewhere between the off-handed abuse term he was afraid would trigger Liam and the realization that John knew Dean had been to Hell.

"Dad!" Sam glanced at Liam. "Could you be a little more… careful?"

John's brow scrunched up in confusion, flickering again. "Liam's the one who told me, Sam. I can't say anything he doesn't already know."

Sam blinked again, even more confused.

"Love you, Samm—"

John's voice cut out just seconds before his image flickered and faded, leaving Liam and Sam alone in the kitchen. Liam looked up at Sam, chewing on his lip with wide, worried eyes. Sam looked back at him, confused but trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

"Liam…" Sam slowly lowered himself to his knees and reached out to touch Liam on the shoulder. "What do you know about what happened with Dean?"

Liam sniffed, shuffled his feet, and hugged himself a little tighter. "I was there when Castiel told Dean… that if he needed to get him out of Hell again, he would. During Halloween?" He sniffed again, chancing a brief glance at Sam's face. "And then I… I heard you and Dean talking. I pretended to be asleep. And…" He dragged his sleeve over his face. "And when I was with the angels, I asked Castiel what Hell was."

And Castiel, having no filter, probably told you exactly that. Sam sighed with a sad smile and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Liam."

Liam's head popped up, and he blinked at Sam in confusion. "What are you sorry for?"

"Because, I should have paid more attention, and I should have talked to you about it." Sam offered a soft smile and looked at Liam with open, listening eyes. "Do you want me to explain what happened?"

Liam didn't say anything for a moment, chewing on his lips and staring intently at the floor, but then he nodded his head. "Yes, please."

"Okay." Sam smiled again. "Let's go sit on the couch."

Liam nodded and hurried into the adjacent room, jumping onto the sofa and scooting back until he was settled against the cushions.

Sam sat down next to Liam and took a deep breath, trying to think of the best and safest way to tell the story. "So… you know there are demons. You've heard Dean and I talk about them. Right?"

Liam nodded, eyes wide and riveted on Sam's face.

"Well, some demons have the power to give you supernatural help… but you have to give them your soul in return. Which means in the future, usually in ten years, they'll come and they'll take you away to Hell." Sam paused, wetting his lips, and slowly proceeded. "Do you… did Castiel tell you what Hell is?"

"He said it's a cage of blood and fire and pain and eternal torment," Liam replied seriously. He looked down at his lap for a second and then looked back at Sam. "Is that right?"

"Yeah, buddy, it is." Sam sighed softly, a pained expression crossing his face. "It's not a good place, and that's why it's never okay to sell your soul for any reason." And just to be safe, Sam would make sure the methods for summoning a crossroads demon were never discussed in front of Liam, and that all related documents were locked up or destroyed. "But, um… but there was a fight. And I… I died." Sam cleared his throat. "And Dean sold his soul to bring me back to life. And he was given one year, and then… they came and took him."

Liam didn't say anything, and his face showed nothing but a vague sense of contemplation. Whatever the conversation was making him feel, he was keeping it close.

"And Castiel… Castiel is the angel who got Dean out of Hell. That's why Dean trusted him so much…" Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "That's why I trusted him so much." Sam sighed. "But, uh, but that's what happened. When I said Dean was missing, that's where he was, and I was trying to get him out."

Liam stared at his hands, which lay still in his lap, his eyes misting up slightly. He sniffed, blinked, sniffed again, and stared some more.

"Liam… the important thing to remember is that Dean isn't there anymore. He's here with us, where he belongs, and he's safe." As safe as a Winchester facing the Apocalypse could be. "And he's never going to sell his soul again, no matter what. Okay?"

Liam nodded a bit numbly, still staring dead ahead.

"Hey." Sam nudged Liam on the arm. "What's bothering you, buddy? Do you have a question about something?"

At first, Liam shook his head, but then his expression shifted, like a question had just occurred to him.

"What is it, Liam?"

Liam was silent for a moment, and then he looked up at Sam with wide, horrified eyes. "Where's Castiel right now?"

Sam wet his lips, trying to decide how to move forward. He could put his own mixed feelings about Castiel aside—because Liam had developed a fondness for the angel—but Sam really didn't know what to say. Dean had confronted Zachariah about Castiel back at Sandover when the illusion was lifted, but all Zachariah had said was that Castiel was 'very close to learning his lesson.'

Of course, Zachariah had also said Liam's escape was temporary, and that they had recaptured him. That had, obviously, turned out to be false.

"I don't know where he is, buddy." Sam thought for another moment and then shook his head. "We can't think about that, Liam. We have to focus on getting him back; we have to focus on what we can do."

Liam's lips wobbled slightly. "Mrs. Greene used to say that."

Sam smiled lightly. "You've told me about her. She was your favorite therapist, right?" He paused while Liam nodded. "What did she used to say that about?"

"She would say it when I started being bad because Mom didn't show up for a visit. She would say I couldn't make my mom do what needed to be done for me to go home… all I could do was do the things I needed to do to go home, and leave her part to her."

Sam pressed his lips together and nodded a few times. "And… did that help?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Liam shook his head tearfully. "No." He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "And it isn't helping now." He sniffed again. "They're hurting him because he helped me."

"Hey. No." Sam got down on the floor in front of Liam and took him by the shoulders. "No, Liam. They're hurting him because they're evil. They're hurting him because he decided to do the right thing." Sam shook his head emphatically. "None of that has anything to do with you. Okay? No matter who or how or when or where it was, the minute Castiel decided to do the right thing, they were going to hurt him. That's not your fault."

"It feels like it's my fault," Liam cried, reaching up to wipe his eyes again.

"I know, buddy." Sam cupped his hand around the back of Liam's head and pulled him closer, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "I know."

"We've gotta find him, Sam." Liam shook his head, leaning into Sam's touch. "We gotta find him, Sam… we gotta find him."

"We will," Sam assured. "We will find Castiel. Okay?"

Liam only shook his head again, heaving a sigh. He screwed his eyes shut and took another deep breath, letting it out with a shudder.

"We'll find him."

"Liam! What the—" Sam cut himself off mid-shout. "What are you doing?"

Liam stopped destroying the library for all of two seconds, and then he grabbed another old, fragile, one-of-a-kind book and chucked it all the way out into the kitchen.

"Liam, stop it." Sam crossed the library, being careful not to step on any documents or books. "Liam!" He grabbed Liam's arm before another book could fall victim, wrenching it out of Liam's hand with an angry, "What's wrong with you?"

Liam tried to pull away, his face twisted up with anger. "Leave me alone!"

Somewhere in the back of Sam's mind, the voice of reason told him to reel in his temper, but he ignored it. Instead, he lifted Liam off the ground and roughly hauled him over to the couch, still shouting. "No, Liam, you do not get to say 'leave me alone' after doing something like this. You can't—"

"I don't care!" Liam twisted in Sam's arms, kicking wildly and sending a lamp over the edge of the desk. "I don't care! Leave me alone!"

"Liam, that's enough!"

"What in the name of…?"

Sam put Liam on the couch and looked over his shoulder with a heavy sigh. "Bobby, I am so sorry. I'll help you clean this—hey!"

Liam tried to make a run for it but Sam grabbed him again, sitting him back on the couch and keeping a tight grip on his shoulders.

"Liam, what is wrong with you?" Sam dug his fingers in a little harder than he probably should have, just barely resisting the urge to shake some sense into his child. "Do you have any idea how expensive and rare some of this stuff is? How important it is that we have this information so we can fight monsters?"

"I don't care!" Liam kicked again and made contact with Sam's knee. "I don't—"

Sam grabbed Liam's legs in a grip that was none-too-gentle and shouted in a voice that was all-too-angry, "You're being ridiculous, Liam, now knock it off!"

"Get away from me!" Liam tried to pull his ankles free. "Get away from me! I hate you!"

Sam threw Liam's legs down on the sofa and pointed in the general direction of the hallway. "Go to your room. Now!"

"Gladly!" Liam shot back, angry tears welling up in his eyes.

Liam leaped to his feet and pushed past Sam, stomping past Bobby to the hall. His thumping footsteps continued up the stairs, down the second-story hall, and all the way to the hard slamming of a bedroom door.

Sam reached up and ran his hands through his hair, gripping the locks and taking a deep breath. That wasn't good. But his brain was still a little too lost in the fog of anger to get past the whole 'Liam spontaneously destroyed the library, potentially damaging valuable lore beyond repair, for no apparent reason whatsoever' thing.

"Sam?"

Sam pushed his fingers all the way through his hair and clasped his hands behind his neck, turning to look at Bobby. "I…" He shook his head, mouth hanging open. "I don't even know what to say."

"You have any idea what set him off?" Bobby asked, surprisingly calm given the state his library was in.

"No," Sam replied, slightly out of breath, heart still pounding from the adrenaline. He crouched down and started gathering some of the bent, torn sheets scattered over the floor. "He's been moody lately, but this…"

"That why you got so angry?" Bobby spoke plainly, not quite accusing, but not really sharing Sam's frustration with Liam, either. "He caught you off guard?"

Sam stopped cleaning for a moment and sighed, closing his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?" He ran his hand through his hair and looked at Bobby. "Normally, I can figure out where he's coming from, but this is just… random."

"You and I both know that nobody just does anything." Bobby slipped his hands into his pocket and flapped his elbows as he spoke. "So, figure out the reason."

"I spend every hour of every day trying to figure out the reasons behind what he does!" Sam immediately regretted snapping. "I…" Sam let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his face. "I'm sorry. It's been a long…"

"Twenty-six years?" Bobby offered.

Sam heaved another sigh. "Yeah." He shook his head. "I don't know why Liam's doing what he's going. He just…"

"That demon blood must be frying your brain, boy."

Sam looked up from where he knelt on the floor, squinting confusedly. "What?"

"He lost you and Dean twice, then he lost Castiel, and now he's lost John." Bobby shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "Don't need any kind of training to see what's going on here."

Sam leaned back on his heels and considered what Bobby said. "Oh." He winced, reaching up and rubbing his forehead. "I screwed up, Bobby."

"Yeah, you did." Bobby nodded twice, looking Sam dead in the eyes. "So, go fix it."

Sam shook his head. "I have to give him some space. He doesn't like to talk right after a fight." He sighed and got back to the papers around him. "I'll help you clean up… and then I'll hover for a bit and see how he is."

Bobby pursed his lips with a nod and pushed off the wall, approaching the mess on the floor. "Here's hoping nothing about angels is too badly damaged."

Sam heaved a sigh and grabbed a document that was nearly torn in two, putting the pieces back together. "I really am sorry, Bobby."

Bobby shrugged, picking up an old tome with a broken spine. "Nothing to be sorry for."

"He's my kid, and he destroyed your library." Sam shook his head, stacking more papers and silently dreading the hours he would have to spend putting them all back in order. "Obviously, I know he's the one who actually did this, but… he's my kid. He's my responsibility."

Bobby pursed his lips and nodded. "I can respect that."

Sam flashed a weak smile and kept working on the mess. "Thanks…"

"What are you gonna say to him?" Bobby asked, putting a few books back on the shelves.

Sam heaved a sigh and shook his head. "I have no idea." He really didn't.

Bobby hummed, grabbing a few more books and checking the titles. "You think maybe the demon blood made your fuse a little shorter?"

Sam shook his head again, slower, almost dazed. "I don't know, Bobby. Part of me thinks so, but part of me thinks that's just an excuse."

"Sam."

Sam looked up at Bobby and waited.

"How's he supposed to believe it's okay to make mistakes if you never make any?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but he found he didn't know what to say. His mouth slowly closed, and he looked back down at his lap, thoughtful.

"So, speaking of demon blood." Bobby picked up a new topic of conversation like the previous one hadn't been discussed. "What's the plan with that?"

Sam shook himself from his thoughts and grabbed a few sketches of sigils, trying to figure out what was what and organize accordingly. "Uh, well, even if we have Liam back, there's no telling when the angels will try to take him again… and Lilith has to be stopped one way or the other." Sam wet his lips. "We don't really have a better option."

Bobby hummed and nodded but didn't say anything, reordering the books in his hands and putting them on the shelf together.

"You think I should stop again." It wasn't a question, but Sam still looked at Bobby with expectant eyes.

"I don't like it, boy." Bobby shook his head and braced one arm against the bookshelf, putting the opposite hand on his hip and looking at Sam. "Even if it works, what if it does some kind of permanent damage to you? Or kills you?" Bobby glanced in the direction of Liam's bedroom, his eyes earnest. "What'll happen to him then?"

Sam sighed and let his hands fall into his lap, tired of hearing the same argument over and over. "I don't know, Bobby. But I don't know what'll happen to me—or any of us—if I don't drink demon blood. I'd rather take my chances with my potential death or bodily injury than with all four of us winding up dead. Or all three of us winding up dead, and Liam winding up alone."

Bobby opened his mouth to object, but then he closed it. He thought for a moment, and then he conceded with a nod. "You've got a point."

"I don't like it, Bobby. I don't think it's a good idea. I just think it's the best idea we have right now." Sam looked down at the sheets in his hands, but he didn't do anything with them. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

Sam wet his lips, still looking at his lap. "If… something does happen to me…" he lifted his head, meeting Bobby's eyes, "…promise me Liam won't go back into the system."

Bobby frowned. "How can you even think that?"

Sam hung his head a little. "I… I was the one who decided to make the commitment to raise him. It wasn't your choice, and it wasn't Dean's, it was mine. And… for that lifelong commitment of family to be shifted to you by default…"

"Sam."

Sam looked back up at Bobby, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders.

Bobby met Sam's eyes with complete sincerity. "If you had a biological kid, would it matter that we didn't 'make a lifelong commitment?'" He shook his head. "If something happens to someone, the responsibility for taking care of their kids falls to family first. That's how it should be. Just because you chose to 'have' a kid in a different way, it doesn't change anything." Then, just to make his point as clear as possible, "We'll take care of him, Sam. Whether you're here or not. We'll do whatever we gotta do to fill the roles he needs, and if that means helping on the weekends or taking over completely because you're gone, then so be it."

Sam offered a faint smile, throat tightening as the backs of his eyes started to burn. "Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back to the bookshelf to continue cleaning. "Idjit."

Sam smiled.

Sam knocked three times, waited, and then called out softly. "Liam?"

There was no response, so Sam slowly turned the knob and let himself in. Liam was lying on his back on the bed with his headphones in, and his eyes were closed, but he was too stiff to be sleeping.

"Liam," Sam tried again.

Liam either ignored him or couldn't hear.

Sam reached out and touched Liam's leg below the knee, giving it a light squeeze.

Liam opened his eyes and looked at Sam, expressionless. He pulled out one headphone and lifted a brow, waiting.

Definitely still upset. Sam gestured over his shoulder. "You're coming downstairs to help me clean up. If you want to come back to your room after that, you can."

Liam sighed and pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress.

"No headphones," Sam clarified, getting to his feet.

Liam rolled his eyes and pulled them out, tossing—almost-but-not-quite throwing—his phone onto the bed.

Sam held the door while Liam walked past, and in less than five minutes, they were settled on the floor in the library. They spent two hours sorting through the numerous papers Liam had scattered, and the entire time, the room was blanketed in silence. Occasionally, Liam would sigh heavily or huff, making his displeasure very known, but it always stopped there.

"It's time for dinner." Sam set his stack of papers on top of Bobby's desk and turned to take what Liam had left. "When you're done eating, you're taking a bath and going to bed."

Liam held the papers out, anger simmering beneath the surface, and the second Sam had the stack, Liam was headed for the kitchen.

"Hold it." Sam beckoned Liam with a finger, setting the documents aside and sitting down on the couch. "Get over here."

Liam looked at Sam for a long moment, but he eventually did as he was told and walked over—with an exaggerated, almost comical reluctance—to stand in front of Sam. He stared down at his feet with a scowl on his face, eyes narrowed and hands balled into fists.

"You don't have to talk, and you don't have to look at me, just listen." Sam leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his thighs. "I'm sorry for losing my temper and grabbing you in anger. I shouldn't have done that. I should know better." He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, and then he continued. "However. Just like your behavior doesn't justify the way I reacted, my poor reaction does not take away the fact that your behavior was unacceptable."

Liam kept his head down while Sam talked, and if Sam had to guess, Liam rolled his eyes at least twice. Sam was fine with that; Liam needed a way to express that he was still unhappy, and he was doing it without interrupting, which was good.

"So, starting tomorrow, every day, once you're done with schoolwork, you're going to help me put the library back in order. We'll do it until dinner, like we did today. No TV or computer time until it's done. You can have your phone for music, but I don't want to catch you playing games and wasting time." Sam paused, once again giving the words time to sink in. "Have I made myself clear?"

Liam jerked his head in a single nod.

"Good." Sam considered Liam for a moment, wet his lips, and then spoke in a softer tone. "And when you decide you're ready to talk about why you did what you did, I'm here."

Liam muttered something under his breath, and Sam inclined his head slightly.

"What was that?"

Liam scowled for a moment, and then he folded his arms over his chest with a huff, "I don't know."

"You don't know what?" Sam asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew.

"I don't know why I wrecked the library." Liam didn't sound remorseful in the slightest, and there was still a distinct note of anger in his voice. "I just did."

"Oh. Well, I think I can help you sort that out." Sam reached out and touched Liam on the arm just briefly, something to make gentle contact and let Liam know there was physical affection ready and waiting whenever he wanted it. "These past few months, you've lost a lot of people. And it hurt. And you were scared. And you don't want to go back there." Sam gave a sad, sympathetic smile. "So, you're trying to burn your bridges before you lose anybody else, so it doesn't hurt so much if something goes wrong."

Liam swallowed but didn't say anything, and while his eyes got the slightest bit misty, they were still angry and detached.

"But, unfortunately for you, you can't get rid of me." Sam's smile brightened a bit, and then he sobered, nudging Liam on the arm. "I might have made a mistake today, but if you're hoping you can make me hurt you badly enough that you won't feel bad walking away, you're in for a big disappointment."

Liam dropped his eyes to the floor, little fists clenched at his sides. "Isn't it time for dinner?"

Sam pressed his lips into a tight line, but he accepted the defeat and nodded. "Yup. Dean should be back with the pizza any time now."

"Can I wait in the kitchen?"

Sam nodded. "Sure."

Liam turned and walked away without another word.

Baby steps, Winchester. Baby steps.

Sam smiled fondly at the spotless library, leaning against the archway to the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He looked at the books and papers, more organized than they had been prior to Liam wrecking the room, and then he looked at the culprit on the couch.

Liam was passed out on his stomach, one arm dangling over the edge, the left leg of his sweatpants pushed up past his knee.

Still smiling, Sam walked over to the couch. He set his mug on the desk and grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, flicking it open. Moving carefully, Sam draped it over Liam's body and tucked it around his shoulders. Then Sam reclaimed his coffee cup and started toward the kitchen with a soft smile on his lips.

"I'm sorry."

Sam stopped and turned slightly, finding Liam in the same position but with his eyes open. "I thought you were still asleep."

Liam shook his head, staring blankly ahead with half-lidded, bleary eyes.

"Did you stay up all night cleaning the library?" Sam already knew the answer to that, of course; there had still been a fair amount of work left when he went to bed, and the library certainly didn't clean itself.

Liam nodded, his eyes wandering over to where Sam was. "You told me that loving someone means making choices and doing things to show them… and I wanted to show you I don't hate you." He looked down at the floor, scratching idly at the couch cushion. "I'm really sorry, Sam."

Sam smiled and walked back to the couch, siting cross-legged on the floor. "I know you are, buddy." He took a sip of his coffee and then set it on the floor nearby, leaning against the couch. "You've had a pretty awful couple of weeks."

Liam nodded, eyes misting up as they followed his finger in its idle patterns.

Sam put his hand on Liam's back and started rubbing slowly back and forth. "Do you think… maybe it's time to go see a therapist?"

Liam shook his head, sniffing hard. "We'll get caught 'cause we ran away."

"We can find a way around that." Sam picked up his coffee and took another drink, still rubbing Liam's back. "I know… you wouldn't be able to tell a therapist about the angels or running away, but you can talk about how you're feeling. You can talk about the things you talked to your old therapists about."

"I don't know what I'm feeling." Liam sniffed again, dark circles painted beneath his eyes.

Sam wet his lips, his hand slowing to a stop as he tried to figure out a way to explain what he wanted to say. "Sometimes…" His mouth moved silently for a moment, eyes wandering as he searched for words. "Do you know what whiplash is?"

Liam nodded, lips slightly pouted with confusion. "Yeah. It's when your head snaps forward real fast and you hurt your neck."

"Right." Sam flashed an encouraging smile. "Well, I went to college with a girl who got whiplash when she was little." Jess. "And even though she couldn't remember it happening, and even though it happened a really long time ago, it would still cause her pain on a regular basis because it had permanently altered her neck." He wet his lips and started rubbing Liam's back again. "When we experience something really scary or painful or… just really hard to process, the same thing happens to our brain. It's changed permanently, and even though we might not remember what happened, and even though it might have happened a long time ago, it can still hurt us."

Liam blinked slowly, but he seemed more thoughtful than spacey.

"I know that what's been going on lately has been really stressful for you. It's been really hard." Sam started playing with Liam's hair, gently stroking the locks and making a note to schedule a haircut. "But even if you don't want to talk about what's been happening lately, there could be something further back that's hurting you, and a therapist might be able to help you figure some of that out. Or maybe just something you can do to feel better. My friend with the whiplash used to get massages or see a chiropractor to help with her pain."

Liam didn't say anything for a moment, and he didn't really look like he was thinking about the proposition. He just looked lost.

Sam didn't say anything, playing with Liam's hair some more while he waited.

"I hate it." Liam grabbed the blanket and pulled it a little tighter around himself.

Sam trailed his fingers up and down Liam's spine, knowing Liam found the gesture soothing. "What do you hate?"

"I hate not knowing what I feel… or why… or what's wrong…" Liam sniffed, and when he looked at Sam, there was a fatigue in his eyes that went far beyond staying up late to clean the library. "I want to feel better… but I don't know how, because I can't ask anyone for help, because I don't know what's wrong. I don't… know why I get so angry… it just happens, and the anxiety just happens, and the crying just happens, and it all just…" Liam screwed his eyes shut, pressing his face into the couch cushion. "It just happens, and it feels like my body is out of control, and it—it doesn't make any sense, and it scares me, and I—I just hate it." He let out a little sob and shook his head. "I hate it, Sam. I hate it."

Sam let his hand rest on Liam's back and grabbed his coffee, taking another drink to cover up the fact that the pain in his chest had temporarily muted him. "I… can't imagine how horrible that must be." He inhaled slowly, running through the possible responses and how helpful they might be. "I know… I don't completely understand what you're going through, but… I understand it from a factual perspective. Like… knowing that a broken leg needs to be in a cast even if you've never broken your leg." Which Sam actually had done, but that wasn't the point. "And what I think, based on what I know factually, is that a therapist could be very helpful. Maybe it could help you start learning some of those whys, and if you knew why, I think you could start to feel better."

Liam took a deep breath and let it out, his expression shifting to something sadly familiar. It was the look Liam always wore when he didn't want to do what was being asked of him, but he was going to because it was what the asker wanted, and he didn't want the asker to know he didn't want to do what was asked, because it might lead to some kind of punishment for 'attitude' or 'being difficult.'

"I—"

"Liam," Sam started softly, shaking his head. "If you aren't ready, just say so."

"No." Liam spoke quickly, blue eyes peering up at Sam. "No, I'm ready. I'll go."

"Liam." Sam combed Liam's hair back out of his face. "I don't want you to see a therapist because I want you to see a therapist. Okay? I want you to see a therapist because I think it will make you feel better." Sam shook his head, searching Liam's eyes. "But if you aren't ready, and you force yourself to go to make me happy, you aren't going to feel better, you're going to feel worse. I know you want to make me happy and make me proud, but hurting yourself isn't going to make me feel either of those things. It'll make me sad and worried for you. It'll make me feel bad for pressuring you."

Liam blinked his wide eyes, sniffing quietly, staring up at Sam with his scar-dotted brow scrunched up in confusion.

"Liam, it's okay if you aren't ready. It's okay if you don't like my idea or don't think it will work. If there comes a time when I need you to do what I'm asking you, I will make you do it. Okay?" Sam shook his head again, speaking as earnestly as he could, hoping he could make Liam understand. "If you needed to go to the hospital, and you said you didn't want to, I would make you go, because that would be the best thing for you. I wouldn't let you stay home and then go around huffing and mad or disappointed you didn't do what I wanted."

Liam's eyes grew glassy, and he started blinking faster.

"So, if you don't want to go see a therapist, and I say it's okay, the same thing is true. I'm not gonna get mad, or be disappointed in you, or 'tolerate you being difficult.'" Sam used physical air quotes to make it very clear that he was only assuaging specific fears he knew Liam had, not speaking from his own perspective. "If I thought you absolutely needed to go to a therapist, I would make you go. But I think forcing you would do more harm than good, and neither of us can make you want to go."

Liam curled up on his side so he could see Sam a little better, sniffing and staring with glassy eyes.

"So, this is me, your dad," Sam put his hand on his chest, "saying it's okay to not see a therapist. Not because you don't want to go, but because I genuinely believe it's okay if you aren't ready."

Liam didn't respond for several seconds, his expression distracted and his lips pressed tightly together. He focused on Sam's face again and shook his head, lips wobbling as tears started to roll down his cheeks.

Sam tilted his head. "What's the matter, buddy?"

Liam shook his head again. "I just—it's so much, there's so much—" He struggled with his words for a moment and then settled for another headshake.

"I know, buddy." Sam leaned forward and planted a kiss on Liam's forehead. "You aren't supposed to have these kinds of conversations until you're older. You aren't supposed to deal with these kinds of feelings until your mind and body are ready for them." Sam felt the backs of his eyes burning, and he willed them to dry, not wanting Liam to see how upset he was. "And I am so sorry that you were forced into this situation where… you are dealing with adult feelings and situations and concepts before you're ready. If I could go back in time and change it—if I could make it so you weren't feeling this way—I would do it in a heartbeat."

Liam wiped his eyes and wrapped the blanket around him a little tighter, scooting closer to the edge—closer to Sam.

"It isn't fair that you have to feel this way, Liam. But listen to me." Sam smiled widely, cupping Liam's cheek in his hand. "You are doing so good." Sam started to thumb Liam's temple as he spoke, meeting Liam's eyes, willing Liam to believe him. "You are so brave, and you are so smart, and you are so strong. You've been through so many things that nobody should ever have to go through, and you're still here." Sam shook his head. "Liam, there are grownups who go through the same things you have and get angry and bitter and violent because of it. But you haven't." Sam struggled to keep his eyes dry, but he managed for Liam, and he hoped Liam's own eyes were too watery for him to see the effort Sam had to put into maintaining his composure. "You're kind and generous and thoughtful. You care about people, you love people, and you do your best every single day. You make me so proud, Liam."

Liam let out a little sob, reaching up and pressing Sam's hand to his face.

"You do, Liam. I am so proud of you." Sam sniffed, reaching up to dash his tears away while Liam couldn't see. "And Liam, I promise you, it will get better. And I am going to be there every step of the way."

Liam sobbed again. "I'm sorry I said I hate you. I don't hate you."

"Shh…" Sam thumbed Liam's cheek. "I know you don't, sweetie. It's okay."

Liam shook his head, pressing Sam's hand against his face as hard as he could. "I'm sorry I destroyed the library. I'm sorry I was disrespectful, and—and that I wouldn't talk to you. I'm—"

"Shh, Liam. Shh." Sam wiped the tears from Liam's face. "Hey, look at me for a second."

Liam shook his head. "Huh-uh."

"Please?" Sam coaxed. "I want to see those beautiful blue eyes."

Liam sniffled, and after a moment of hesitation, he opened his eyes and looked up at Sam. Tears immediately welled up again, the combination of eye contact and guilt doing little to calm him down.

"There they are. Big and blue and gorgeous." Sam tapped Liam on the nose with a smile. "They might be the bluest eyes I've ever seen, and that's saying something, because Castiel has some pretty blue eyes."

Liam sniffed again, and he managed a weak smile, blushing slightly.

Sam smiled some more, still running the pad of his thumb over Liam's tearstained cheeks. "Liam, you made some bad decisions last week. You did some things you shouldn't have done. You made mistakes." He shook his head slowly, emphatically. "Don't ever think, even for a moment, that those things will make me stop loving you."

Liam averted his eyes with a little cry and then looked back up.

"What you did, cleaning the library last night, was a very loving thing to do. I am proud of you for doing it." Sam paused, wetting his lips. "But don't ever think you have to do loving things to make me love you back. You're going to make more mistakes in the future, and when you do, I will love and forgive you, every time. I will always love and forgive you."

Liam reached out with the hand that had been holding Sam's, and he grabbed at Sam's sleeve with a little whine. "Hold me?"

"Of course." Sam grinned, grabbing Liam under the arms and sweeping him into a hug.

Liam grabbed onto Sam's neck and buried his face in Sam's shoulder, sniffing quietly but not quite crying anymore. "I love you," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Sam replied softly, rubbing Liam's back. "Can you forgive me?"

Liam nodded his head and let out a shuddering sigh. "Blanket?"

"Oh. Yeah." Sam grabbed the blanket from the couch and, after fighting with it for a few seconds, managed to get Liam wrapped up. "Better?"

Liam nodded. "You going to find the person who wrote the books about you?"

"We're going to try. Do you feel up to coming along?"

Liam thought about it for a second and then shook his head. "I just wanna sleep."

"That's fine, buddy. That's perfectly fine." Sam decided to sit down—it sounded like Liam wanted to be held for a while—and he settled onto the couch with a contended sigh.

Well, that's one thing settled.

Meaning there were only about eighty-seven things left to go.

Awesome.

Author's Note: Poor Liam. Even when things are going right, his brain insists they're going wrong.

"In the incestuous paradox, time is also suspended for a child because it is at once halted and accelerated. The child is thrust into a complex sexual relationship beyond his or her years, which accelerates time; but this, in turn, has the effect of stopping time for the child, because the relationship is so overpowering that it arrests some of the significant aspects of personality development." - Sexual Trauma in Children and Adolescents: Dynamics and Treatment, Diana and Louis Everstine

I think this quote adequately sums up the state Liam's brain is perpetually in, especially in this chapter.

Also, it can be assumed this takes place before and during the first half of the episode. I'm not a fan of Chuck, and I wanted to focus on Liam's ongoing recovery, so I skipped most of the content.