Voices. That was the first thing that Sam registered. He cracked his sleep edged eyes open to see the bright figures of his brother and father. Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes he sat up.
" Look who I found at the diner," Dean said only slightly towards Sam.
" Caught Dean just in time to grab a meal, you have a burger on the table," His father said making his way to the bathroom. Within seconds the shower was turned on and Sam sank back into the bed. The warmth was so inviting he couldn't resist another trip.
Sam put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Dean furrowed his brow and went to go over and sit on their bed.
" What's up?" The older brother asked. What? Does he not remember being snappy earlier? Sam just shook his head, willing Dean to leave him alone and stop hovering. It was annoying.
" I'm sorry about earlier, my stupid boss gave a portion of my check to the new guy. Apparently I'm not much help to the company and my pay check is flexible," Dean spilled. Honesty, Sam could care less, but he had to be nice.
" Then find another job that won't do that," he said without even opening his eyes.
" Can't, there's nothing else that fits my experience and expertise," Dean said flopping on his back. The long work day shedding off. His feet ached and body craved rest. Finally, he was able to relax after a long, hard day.
" Wanna watch TV?" Dean asked while grabbing the remote that was still on their dad's bed.
Sam shook his head and shrugged, not seeing the point when he's trying to go back to the black bliss. This was the only kind of emptiness he enjoyed. Some much peace.
" Fine," Dean said, sticking his fingers into his left overs.
Already? He just ate at the diner and he already had the desire to eat more? Their appetite was something Sam didn't understand. It was ravenous and crazy. Sam only ate when his stomach actively growled, asking for the intake of food. This had made him skinny. A twig while Dean was a whole damn tree.
Sooner rather than later, John came out the the bathroom, a stream of steam following. His clothes stuck to damp skin and hair dripped.
He cleared his throat once and made his way to the table. John was totally unaware of the absence of trash and beer cans. He didn't consider that someone other than the trash fairy cleaned up after him. He was so oblivious.
Reaching for his journal, he peered into their bag. Sighing, he tossed the bag near the other seat.
" Sam, come clean the weapons," John said stern and orderly. Not angry, but not lovingly either.
" Yes sir," Sam obeyed immediately. He jolted up but couldn't help a wince. His ribs alarmed his nerves, each and everyone screaming. A small smile edged on his face.
He had no emotion when he followed the order. His eyes hung open sloppily and hands did as little as possible. He followed the assignments like a kicked puppy too afraid to not listen. Gun after gun, he cleaned off the black soot and powder. He didn't think while he did it. Not only was there no need because of how often he cleaned them, but he was in a place of meditation. Closing off from the world while doing the same few moves and strokes over and over. It was so rhythmic that he easily switched off to the knives. Each one had stains from fire or blood. Blood that made him inwardly gag. A very thin layer of sweat began to form on his face as he started to relive the traumatizing memories.
He stalked beside his brother, knife in hand. The monster was as vulnerable as human. Nearly anything could kill it if it was done properly. A gun, knife, fire, everything. It could all kill it. This monster had been similar to Wendigos. They were brought to life from cannibalism, the last resort when desperation was too much. Sam somehow understood the shame in it's defeat. Not being able to provide enough for life so the only way to survive was to forget about every single moral. Every last one of them and give in to the evil residues. He knew it wasn't the monsters fault this happened. He was just trying to survive but that resulted in turning into something else. Not matter how bad Sam felt for the being, his father reminded them it had to be stopped.
They were about to give up, but suddenly the monster pounced on Dean with an eerie howl. His brothers head hit a rock and he went out cold. Sam had yelled at the creature. " Get off him!"
The monsters attention shifted and Sam's stomach sank. He crashed onto the ground, knife still firmly in his hand. The sharp teeth of the creature threatened to pierce his skin. The only thing he could do was kill it, or it would kill him. No matter how tempting it was to let it attack him farther, he had to do something, for Dean. Sam took the knife and started to stab the monster repeatedly. Stab. Stab. Stab stab. Stab over and over until he was full on crying. He felt like he had killed himself not a deadly, murderous monster. Or, was he the deadly, murderous monster?
Sam kept sharpening the knife harder and harder. Faster and faster until his hand slipped and the knife cut into his pink skin. He let out a stunned grunt, the surprise scaring him more that the pain did. Red crimson immediately gushed from the reasonably small gash on his finger. Blood started to drip onto the carpet and he searched for something to clean it up. His attention caught on the small box of cheap tissues sitting on the table.
" You okay? Did you cut yourself?" Dean asked from his position on the bed. His head was up, trying to see the injury for himself.
" Little bit," Sam partially lied. It wasn't that bad, but it would bleed like a mother. Sam grabbed for the tissue and sloppily wrapped it around his finger. He purposely continued like it was nothing.
" Kay," Dean said, voice still hinting some worry, but letting it slip. He knew something was up. Nothing seemed right with the kid even though he had started to voluntarily take orders. Well, actually that I was the weird part. Sam never liked to follow orders. He never liked hunting. Something seemed off. He'd figure it out soon enough. The truth always comes out.