Author's Note: Today's awesome prompt comes from ktdog1 who requested, "It's Sam's first Christmas after getting out of the cage, and he's still trying to make up for his soulless self while still not messing with the wall. Dean went out for a little bit, so Sam decides to bake him a Christmas pie. Unfortunately, it catches on fire, which, of course, triggers a flashback of The Cage that causes Sam to pass out in the now on fire room. Imagine Dean's surprise when he returns to find the place in flames, with his little bro nowhere in sight. Could go hurt!Sam from everything to Cage flashback trauma to burns to smoke inhalation; it's up to you." Oh wow, I haven't gone a cage fic in awhile so thank you so much for this prompt! Please enjoy!

"For I've grown a little leaner,

Grown a little colder,

Grown a little sadder,

Grown a little older,

And I need a little angel

Sitting on my shoulder,

Need a little Christmas now."

Shane Harper, "We Need a Little Christmas"

The first and only rule is don't think about it.

Don't think about how awful Hell must've been like, with its eternal burning flames licking his skin.

Don't think about the wrathful beatings that he must've received from Lucifer or Michael.

Don't wonder what his soulless self did while he was gone, or who he might've hurt—killed—and how to make amends to those people.

Don't touch the wall.

Don't kick the wall.

Just pretend like everything is fine.

It's not fine though. The guilt is overwhelming really, even though he doesn't really know what he did—besides almost killing Bobby—and the more he tries to figure out what he did, the more his brother growls at him, the more the pain flares up in his temple.

Don't mess with the wall, Sammy.

What's behind the wall though—the sins he's committed—he needs to know them. He has to know what did and fix his mistakes.

Bobby still barely looked at him. The gruff hunter wouldn't even acknowledge him when he came into the room anymore. This man—who Sam considered as a surrogate father—hated him.

All for something he couldn't remember.

Bobby is trying, Sam. He's knows it wasn't you.

What Dean doesn't get though is that it was him. Sure, he'd been without his soul, but part of him had acted out his darkest thoughts. Soulless Sam was still Sam—a bad part, sure, but Sam all the same.

And that's why Sam has to make amends.

Just don't kick the wall, Sammy.

Christmas offers a distraction at least.

Dean's got them holed up in a semi-nice motel in California. They're actually close to the beach, which, Sam suspects, is his older brother's way of trying to cheer him up. While it was much too cold to go swimming, the roar of the waves does calm him somewhat.

"You sure you'll be good while I go out?" Dean asks for the 5th time this afternoon.

Sam does his best not to roll his eyes, "I'll be fine, Dean."

"You're sure?" The oldest Winchester questions.

Dean hasn't really left him alone since he woke up at Bobby's. He's scared, Sam's sure, that his little brother will kick the wall and let himself get killed on purpose.

That's not Sam's intention.

He wants to know what's behind the wall, yes, but not at the cost of his life. Maybe that's selfish or wrong, but that's how he feels.

"Go get lunch." Sam practically orders. "I'll be here when you get back."

Dean hesitates a moment more, but finally replies, "You better."

"Go." Sam grins.

And Dean does.

If there is one thing Sam knows how to do almost as well as hunting, it's making Christmas pie. Specifically, apple pie. It's a recipe that he knows Dean loves, a tried and true one he picked up from a culinary arts teacher.

Making the pie gives him a chance to relax, to check out somewhat as he lets himself go through the motions. Rolling out the dough, slicing the apples—he doesn't have a chance to wonder what's behind the wall, what he might've done to some innocent soul.

It's a rookie mistake that ruins it all.

The oven begins to smoke—there must be something burnt on the bottom of it—and it's really no big deal—

Until it is.

Because where there's smoke, there's fire.

And the last time he saw fire was in Hell.

Pain.

Burning, consuming him whole, indescribable pain.

His voice is raw from all the screaming. No can hear him anyways and no one is coming for him. He made this choice to atone for all mistakes, to save the world, to save Dean.

Dean is out there, somewhere, smiling, laughing, and living that white picket fence life with Lisa that Sam had always wanted to experience for himself. He would never get to, but knowing that Dean is out there is a small comfort.

Not enough to dull the pain.

But enough to endure it.

Around him, the flames lick his skin, searing it.

"Sammy!"

He forces his eyes open and Dean is standing above him, panicked, eyes wide, dark smudges on his skin.

"D'n?" There is an oxygen mask on his own face and he immediately goes to remove it, only for his older brother to keep it in place.

"You need it, Sam," Dean tells him. "You got a lungful of smoke."

Smoke?

He turns his head and sees the motel room is currently ablaze. Fire fighters swarm it, combatting the flames.

"The pie?"

Dean huffs out a laugh, "It's gone, Sammy. Probably nothing more than ash."

Sam grimaces.

"It's fine, Sam."

It's not though, not in the slightest. Not only is the pie gone, but Sam's also managed to set the room on fire.

"Just breathe." Dean coaches and Sam forces himself to do that.

He really just can't do anything right, can he?

"Do you ever wish I had stayed in Hell?" Sam asks the question abruptly, in the car after being released from the hospital with a clean set of lungs.

"What kind of question is that?" Dean growls, his grip tightening on the wheel.

"If I had stayed in Hell, you and Lisa—"

"Sam, don't start—"

"—you two could've been happy and Bobby wouldn't hate me—"

"Bobby does not hate you—!"

"—I'm just saying if I had stayed in Hell, everyone would've been better off."

Dean doesn't say anything for the longest time. When he does speak finally, it's in a quieter tone than Sam is used to.

"When you were in Hell," Dean swallows nervously, almost as if he's afraid to confess this. "Sure, I was with Lisa, but it wasn't real. I was so fucked up after everything that I couldn't really be . . . present, with her."

"I'm sorry—"

"No," Dean interjects sharply. "That's on me. But Sam, you have to understand, I'm so damn grateful you're back. Not a day goes by where I wish you were gone. Not even when I found out you were soulless."

Sam frowns, "But Dean, I—"

"I know you think it was you acting that way," His brother continues. "But I know you Sam. That robot, he couldn't come close to being you." Dean smiles softly. "You're the only guy I know who would risk his own life to try and make amends for possible mistakes."

Sam feels a weight on his shoulders slowly lift off. It's like he can breathe better now.

"So, no," Dean finishes. "I don't wish you had stayed in Hell. If anything, I should apologize to you."

"For what?" Sam questions, confused.

"For letting you go through with it. I could've found another way—"

Sam places a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezes it.

"It's okay, Dean."

There's still trauma there, lurking within both of them. A barrage of what-ifs still haunted their nightmares, consumed their nights. But in this moment, absolution is given.

There will be trials down the road. Tribulations that they will have to overcome.

But sitting in the car next to his brother, it hits Sam that as long as he has Dean by his side, they can do anything.

And that makes Sam beam.

Author's Note: I know Sam still struggles with self-worth issues, especially during this specific time period, so I was glad that I got to at least touch upon that with this prompt. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!