Lawrence, Kansas- Three Years After Attack on Manhattan
Three years ago today, everything in Sam's life changed. Well, if you wanted to be totally technical and asinine about it, maybe a little bit before that. He had met a few people that changed his life. For the better? That was debatable. Estelle and Mark had been concerned for a long time for Sam's mental health.
He was only thirteen years old now. Three years ago, he was naive and stupid to say the least. He depended heavily on the whims of others...But being alone for so long and spending time with people who thought you were insane was a good start in putting things in perspective. Sam hadn't made a lot of friends at the school they had put him in. His actions, his attempts at the truth were scorned and had him put in extensive counseling both outside and inside school grounds. It was enough. He wasn't crazy, and what he was saying was true.
People were so objective. The Costigans claimed to be down the ground Christian and then when someone told them the truth... The real truth, they were blind to see it. He had said this so many times to his "mother", Estelle. But she never really listened to him. She would pinch her nose in some impatience and then proclaim in a low whisper that Sam needed help. Never said he was crazy, but the implication was pretty clear.
Well, what would you say to a boy that told you demons and angels were real? What would you say when he told you that he had one inside you that used you to take control of the world? That saw through your eyes, that walked with you every step of the way. Then through some gruesome means, he managed to break through his barriers and rise to power. For a short time. He was bested by his adopted son.
Oh yeah, and that guy? That guy's a demon.
And he's dead.
And he has been for a long...time.
You know it'd be so easy to maintain that it was real, if evidence ever came up. But there was no evidence. He had tried every day to convince his "parents" that Manhattan had been overrun with demons. It wasn't an earthquake that shook and swallowed the city. It was demons. The world was full of them since that attack.
But there was no evidence that Manhattan had even undergone an attack. There was no evidence that Manhattan had demons running through it. It was a city nearly completed in it's reconstruction and slowly rebuilding what was lost, with new occupants.
No one believed that the humans that were once there were wiped out.
No one cared to believe that.
Or maybe it was because it was too much to take in. And who could blame anyone for thinking that? Sam knew the truth. He was probably the only person in the world that did.
Of course there was Castiel, but who knew where he was? Hell, who even knew where Carmen was? Carmen was the demon that Dean created a long time ago. By accident. She stayed with Sam for about a week before she was taken. He could recall the night it happened quite vividly. They were living in a small motel at the time, with her leaving only to get him food and drink. It was isolated and cold and shady inside...but she assured him that she was going to keep him safe.
She told him that he would have wanted her to. But it didn't take long for her to warm up to Sam, to actually want to care for him on her own.
And then they came for her. Four demons, dressed in all black with their faces covered. She felt them coming, instructed Sam to hide under the bed with the blankets covering all sides...but he still...saw. They had to be demons because she put up a fight before being overpowered and wrapped in iron chains that caused her skin to burn all while Sam watched helplessly from below the mattress.
He stayed underneath that bed for a day, curled up and afraid.
Then Castiel came. Called his name and told him he was going home.
By home, he meant this stupid house in Lawrence. He told Sam to stay with this family who would love him and care for him...and then he told him not to speak of anything he had seen...anything he had done so as not to cause panic.
He remembered asking why, then. And where Carmen was. One thing about Sam was he could at least tell when he was being lied to. And Castiel wasn't lying when he said he didn't know. And then he left. And Sam never saw him again.
Who knows where Carmen was now? And who knew if she was still alive? Tons more demons walking the earth. Maybe she had joined them. They had no leader without Dean, did they? Oh, who knew anymore. It's not like he would ever find out. Since the angel's power left him, he was stuck here...Ordinary.
Ordinary. Not special. Just someone who knew too much.
He was surprised he hadn't been killed or an attempt on his life hadn't been done yet. Someone wasn't keeping track. As if this wasn't perfect evidence that everything was still in chaos.
But maybe it was because he was hardly considered a threat. He was just a normal boy after all. Nothing to worry about with him. It's not like anyone would believe him.
And they didn't.
No one would believe that their nightmares had come true. Except that Sam had all the nightmares.
It happened every night.
Sam shuddered when he woke up in a hot sweat. His room was heavily air conditioned and the window was open but even then, his body was soaking in perspiration.
He wiped his face, cleared it from under his eyes and ran a hand through damp locks of hair. Here it was again. His clock showed nearly five am in the morning. Here was to another dismal day. There was no way he'd be able to conceal this dream throughout the day. Up until the therapy session after school, maybe.
Doctor Walker could see right through Sam's lies. He hadn't yet perfected a way of lying to an adult without seeming too obvious. Telling someone nothing was wrong and averting the eyes was hardly believable to anyone.
Well, he may as well have gotten ready. There was no way he could fall asleep again after that. He pulled off his blanket, closed the window. Estelle and Mark...He hadn't yet gotten used to calling them Mom and Dad. He probably never would. They weren't too fond of him opening the window every night, perhaps thinking he might sneak out. He never did it. Not once.
Though temptation was there. Going out there, finding the truth. Why not? He had spent a long time in danger when he was younger...Blackouts...waking up to a destroyed prefecture...
But maybe what stopped him now was fear of the unknown. The news broadcasted what they believed to be the truth. Missing people was a common theme in the news, didn't really matter what state you were in. People would vanish without a trace, never to be seen again in the same state. Some news stations called it a rising cult that was abducting young teenagers and adults.
Cult sounded right. But Sam could tell you the truth. People weren't being taken, they were being killed or turned into demons. Demons producing more demons. It was an endless cycle. Demons without purpose, made purpose in creating more of their kind.
And they walked among the living, or departed into the depths of Hell. It didn't matter. They were free now, and they had every right to go where they pleased. It'd make more sense to assume they were forming an army. But an army to battle...what?
Carmen had said her share when she spent time with him. Speculating. The one good thing about Carmen was that she didn't seem to have a filter on her thoughts. She said it as she saw it. She thought they were screwed. She expressed a lot of pain when Dean died. When Castiel returned to them that night saying Dean was gone, it was devastating.
But she believed that Dean being dead...that his Father...Sam couldn't bring himself to think of the name, being dead...meant that they were all lost. Not just her. All of them.
These were thoughts that used to plague Sam on a daily basis. Now, he simply felt numb to it all. He had pushed it all into the back of his head. Doctor Walker had suggested that he simply take it slow. One day at a time and focus on that. Focus on his home life. Focus on school. Focus on things that normal thirteen year olds actually worried about in their day to day lives.
Not apocalypses.
When Sam went downstairs, he was greeting by his "parents". He spent two hours stalling in the bathroom, plagued by his usual thoughts and only half-assed in his attempt to get dressed. Estelle had breakfast ready for him on the table. The smell of scrambled eggs and sausages would be tempting if he wasn't still shaken by his nightmare.
"I'll just eat in the cafeteria," He announced.
"Don't forget to head to Doctor Walker's after school," said Mark, not looking up from his newspaper. He was a business man of some computer company and he had the look of it. Black hair and black rimmed glasses wearing his usual suit as he ate his breakfast slowly. Estelle had the motherly look with short brown hair and bright eyes, wearing a dress with a slightly stained cooking apron.
"I remember," said Sam, picking up his backpack off the chair and heading out where only one other stood at the bus stop.
Her name was Jessica Moore. To Sam, she was an angel in human form. And this was coming from someone who knew for fact that angels existed on this planet. Ever since he first saw her, with her waving blonde locks, her pale face and beautiful blue eyes, he was in love with her. Maybe he was too young to know what that was...But she was the kindest soul he had ever met. She didn't look upon him with scorn like every other kid in school. She didn't care for an image that wouldn't matter to anyone after school was over. Her smile was the very best part of Sam's day.
She flashed that same smile when she saw him walking over.
"Hey Sam," She greeted. "You're up early."
"Yeah, I know," said Sam, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. "You're always the first one here, Jess. You get up way early than I do."
"My Dad's a doctor so he's awake at like three or four every morning. I just got used to waking up around the same time as him. Makes everyone's life easier when he makes noise in the kitchen. What about you? You don't really ride the bus often," Jess pointed out.
Sam shifted uncomfortably. It was true. He usually did ride with his "Dad"...on his own wishes. He hated the kids at school more than he cared to admit. And the bus stop always provided a perfect location for kids to be as vicious as possible away from the eyes of adults. Especially for those who didn't bring their parents along. Sam would be one of them.
"I don't," said Sam. "But...I...wanted to try something different today."
"Well, I'm glad you did anyway. It's nice to see you, Sam," said Jess. And she sounded completely sincere which took Sam aback. He had developed a natural talent for being able to detect when people were lying.
And Jess wasn't lying. She was actually pleased to see him here.
He didn't know why, he was nobody. He was a loser. He was a freak. Everyone at school knew it even if they didn't know the details of why. His behavior was enough. He had no friends. He didn't even make an effort to make any. The people he actually considered friends were figments of his imagination according to his parents and Doctor Walker.
"Thanks...," said Sam uncertainly.
There was little else to say so Jess merely patted him on the back and went off to join her coming friends. She was very popular. One could call her the most popular girl in their grade level. He wouldn't blame her for leaving him like he was some kind of leper. People like Jess shouldn't be seen talking to him.
In what seemed like forever, the bus came, and by that time, Sam had huddled himself under an empty parking hood to keep away from the fog. It was too cold today..and he was reminded of the day he met Dean.
Well, it was down to the day that Dean died. Maybe nature was laughing at him too. Wouldn't be the only thing.
He sat in the middle of the bus where an empty space was available. They were one of the first on the stop list so the kids that entered with Sam were able to get whatever seat they chose. He shrunk next to the window and hoped he looked like small prey. Behind him in the back, he heard Jessica and her friends chatter among themselves. She hadn't chose to sit with them, she chose a middle seat too, but they weren't that far to stop the conversation about whatever...girls talked about.
A few stops down the line came the row of apartments he always dreaded seeing. Sam lived in a friendly neighborhood. But that didn't mean the school district wasn't poor. And they had just shifted to the bad side of the district or as Sam liked to call it, the dark side.
Reason being...
Jack Cole.
Usually Sam kept to himself. Kept quiet and didn't say much to anyone unless they spoke to him first...But Cole seemed to take a special interest in Sam and not exactly in the good way. If there was such thing in Sam's experience.
Every time he caught Sam even minutely making a social gesture...to anyone...He made it a point to publicly humiliate Sam. Maybe the point was to get a rise out of Sam. It never usually worked. Jacky Boy(the cool little nickname he gave Cole in his head) didn't know what to say to pull on Sam's anger strings.
He would probably mangle Sam if he saw or knew he was talking to Jessica.
When the boy climbed into the bus, Sam stared determinedly out the window, slouching just a bit so he wouldn't seem noticeable.
Of course that wasn't enough. Cole took notice of him immediately, planting himself in the seat just behind Sam and talking loudly with his friends. Their conversation took on what they had done over the weekend, to video games. It wouldn't be long now.
While Sam's own thoughts took a blank turn. Sometimes this happened. He thought so much on what wasn't supposed to exist that he simply had to shut down sometimes. It just sucked that it happened while he was awake. When he slept, he had no respite. When he was awake, ninety percent of the time, his thoughts went to the dark side.
To Dean...And who could blame him? The demon had destroyed himself so everyone else could live. How could Sam not think of him when he was partly to blame? He had walked into Dean's life the same the demon did him.
Where Sam was before Dean came along...Who knew? It was like finding a needle in a haystack. His memory was blurry until the day he met Dean. It was like he was granted clarity. Waking up in that prefecture surrounded by bodies and then being told or hinted that he had done it all...and then Dean came along.
Lucifer had been sleeping inside him. His power, his essence. It was possession in it's own right. Lucifer was probably the one in control of him since birth...And who his real parents were...if he even had any...was a mystery to him. Well, they had never went looking for him, it was never in any newspapers...and believe it, Sam looked.
He supposed Estelle and Mark meant well for what they were worth. Just a lonely couple unable to produce their own child so they took on Sam as an extra mouth to feed to make themselves feel good about their accomplishments. For his part, he tried to stay out of their way and not cause too much trouble.
"...And then there's this asshole," Jack leaned over Sam's seat and flicked his ear in a particularly painful way. Sam jumped. He should have expected that. Damn, he was careless.
"How's it hanging, dipshit?" Maybe it was just Sam, but Jack Cole's voice was the most grating voice he had ever heard. He had a slight nasal problem in that he breathed hard through his nose. His Dad was a star athlete in the NFL before he injured his knee and took to training his son how to play ball in the backyard every Saturday. How tragic was it that Cole had to break only his nose on one of those occasions.
He flicked Sam's ear again to call him to attention. "What'd you do this weekend besides jack off to Sunday Night Football? Fuckin' fag."
Another flick. And another. His ear was going red, not just from the irritant and Cole's fingernail usage, but because Sam had flushed. Really, how could someone be so offensive and use that term?
He repeated it, this time using the term to call Sam rather than using his name. Sam slouched a little bit more but that only prompted Cole to reach over the seat to remain attached.
Sam was on the verge of opening his mouth to say something. Chicken scratch in comparison to what he actually wanted to say when someone else beat him to the punch.
"Leave him alone, Jack," It was a quiet but firm tone, audible enough to hush the chatter in the bus.
Sam peered over to find Jess was looking straight at Jack with a cold look. Now, usually he never sat near Jess to let her get wind of this. Today was an exception. She had chosen that seat across from Sam for her friends, or maybe she chose it intentionally. Who knew? But she had ended her own conversations to engage Cole.
"Aw, c'mon. I'm just teasing the village idiot. I saw his report card on Friday. He got all D's in everything including Gym. Who the hell fails Gym?" Cole sneered.
Sam furrowed his eyebrows. Costigan. Cole. Their names were too close...and having this adopted name gave Sam the unfortunate task of having Cole for homeroom where morning announcements were heard and report cards were issued. It didn't help that homeroom was instructed by the coach who absolutely loved Cole and had him do all the menial tasks like pass out flyers...and report cards.
"That's enough," said Jess. "You've said enough."
Cole fixated on her with his lip curling in a challenge. It was pretty obvious Jack had a soft spot for the prettiest girl in their grade, so he slumped back down in his seat and went back to picking up sports conversation with a slightly frustrated look on his face. Sam mouthed a silent thank you to Jess when their eyes met and she gave him a faint smile and tiny nod.
The rest of the bus ride was uneventful except for when Sam was getting off, Cole got behind him and made it a point to trip him on the last step by stepping on a wayward shoelace of Sam's. He hit the ground face first and got a mouthful of wet sand and dirt. He heard laughter above him as people stepped over and on him on their way up to the school steps. Cole made it a point to kick Sam in the ribs as he sniggered past.
"Gotta love school," said Sam, pulling himself up. He wasn't looking for Jess for rescue this time. It should have struck his self-esteem that a girl had to rescue him. But funny thing about having that was that you actually had to have a little bit of it for it to be an issue.
The rest of school passed in a very long daze. He had seven classes in total, eight if you counted homeroom which he didn't. But each one supplied it's own boring information that Sam found too boring to actually intake. No wonder he was failing. None of this information mattered. Nothing the teachers were saying was noteworthy. Because the reality of the world was right outside their doorsteps.
And no one really cared.
A long time ago...He had asked Dean why no one else could see Castiel's wings in plain sight and only catch their shadows if they were looking. Dean had said it was because no one believed. Not truly. Even the people who followed religion weren't true followers. Because despite how desperately people preached and practiced their religion...there was no true proof behind anything existing to mankind. What classified as miracles by heaven were long since past. Dean had said that people practicing religion without seeing the truth spent their whole lives chasing illusions. Only when the sinners came back as demons was the truth realized. In most cases. He expressed that it was a sad truth...but a truth nonetheless.
He could always see Castiel's wings...The physical form...and that was probably because he believed. Or hey, maybe because he walked around with an angel inside. Who knows now?
No one in this place believed. They were content living blind lives.
And now Sam was stuck in that same situation. It was time, he told himself. He would tell Doctor Walker later today that he was done with the illusion. He was done freaking his foster parents out. He was done trying to convince anyone what he saw, what he lived through was real. He was going to have to make some changes. He was young...but it was time. He had to be like these guys. What a life it would be to not see what he had seen, to not have gone through what Sam had. He would have traded everything to not know what he knew.
Now he could make that little dream a reality by saying it out loud. Isn't that what schools taught? Basically the repetition of information through verbal word and then written word? If he told himself enough times that it was all just an incredibly vivid dream that never really happened, maybe one day he would believe it. If he wrote it down in a journal five hundred times, maybe when he took his pencil off the paper, it would all make sense to him.
He headed off to Doctor Walker's after school. Lucky for him. He didn't think he could stand being inside that bus again with all that noise...So much for changes...Oh well, he had to start with convincing the person that mattered first. If he got out of therapy, then the rumors would stop. Then they'd all ease up.
Doctor Walker was waiting for him when he entered. The secretary had merely smiled at Sam. She knew he had never failed punctuality and she knew better than to make him wait. Lest he just walk out and take the long way home to a very long argument with Estelle and Mark.
Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad. He needed to get used to that.
Walker looked like a typical bookish type of about forty or forty-five. He had very white skin, short sandy brown hair and light colored eyes that were hidden behind very thick glasses. But what annoyed Sam was the man's dress sense. There was no other word to describe him except nerdy. He had on a striped t-shirt, khaki pants and an ugly green sweater vest over his t-shirt. It was like eighty degrees outside. Why was a vest necessary?
But he smiled warmly when Sam entered and gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Walker's office was boring for a child psychiatrist. At least others may have attempted to brighten the room with color and motivational posters spouting random facts and quotes from other people. Walker just had shelves of books and lots of plants with his awards framed and covering the walls. At least he wasn't modest about how awesome he was in the eyes of the school boards. This looked more like a psychiatric office for grown-ups rather than "young adults."
"So, Sam...," Walker began when Sam planted his backpack on the ground and took a seat. "I hope your past week went well? Did you do anything over the weekend?"
Ah, small talk.
Always so fun.
"It was fine," said Sam stiffly. He really should have cooperated. It wasn't going to make fifty minutes go faster by leaving long stretches of silence between them.
"Did you get to do anything fun?"
Sam supposed that was a typical question. Walker asked it every week and Sam was running out of lies. You couldn't go to the movies every week, and Walker already knew Sam didn't have any friends...And there was only so many sports you could make up having an affinity for and using as an excuse. He was no Jack Cole.
Might as well not lie. "No."
"Really? Just a sleep in, huh?" Walker asked, pulling out his clipboard and placing it on his lap as he leaned back in the chair expectantly. "I do that too sometimes. Sometimes you sleep so little during the whole week because of school or work that when the weekend comes, sleep is all you can do."
"From what I understand, a lot of people find it hard to sleep on the weekend nights because of getting up early during the week," Sam remarked.
Walker laughed. "Not me. I almost always sleep through the whole Saturday morning."
This conversation was so stupid.
"Good for you. Some of us can't afford the luxury of sound sleep," said Sam with a humorless smile. How cynical of him. He wasn't usually this cold and so far he wasn't off on a good start of convincing the person that mattered that he wasn't insane.
Walker was abruptly serious. "You had another dream."
It wasn't a question. It never was. Sam had made the mistake of confiding in Walker before about his dreams and now the good doctor would never let him forget it. Well, what could you do when you had dreams like the ones Sam had?
"No," He said a little too quickly. Adults could always tell when you were lying when you did it too fast...and not meeting their eyes when they talked. And Sam sure didn't.
"Sam...," Walker began sympathetically. His face was too understanding, too warm and soft for Sam's tastes.
"Look...It doesn't matter anymore," Sam gulped hard, swallowing all his pride and mustering all his courage to spew the lie. "...I don't...I don't believe in that stuff anymore."
"When you say...'that stuff', you mean..."
"Yeah," said Sam shortly. "I don't believe in it."
"Tell me more about what happened in your dream," said Walker, interlocking his fingers together.
"I told you," Sam began desperately. "I don't-"
Walker nailed him with a stern look. " Sam...Humor me."
Sam deflated like a balloon. "It was just...something I've been seeing a lot."
"So this is reoccurring?" Infuriatingly, Walker clicked his pen and began to jot something down on the clipboard on his lap.
"Kind of," said Sam, trying to keep his patience. Why was he talking about this? What happened to pretending it was all a lie?
But a part of him, the part he hated more than life itself was relieved to say the words out loud. He damn sure couldn't explain the situation to Estelle and Mark. Lest he give them both permanent brain damage.
"What happened?" Walker asked, voice laced with concern.
Sam sighed, speaking in a dull tone as if he had repeated it numerous times. But he supposed if he kept the emotion out of his voice, it might make it easier to say. As he spoke, all the details of the nightmare came flooding back in fast succession."I was standing in this room..The walls were black...paint was...melting. But there was something wrong...The ceiling...was starting to bleed. Mixing with the paint...It started to smell..like blood and rain."
"Was anyone else there with you?"
Sam nodded while closing his eyes. "He was there."
"Who was there?"
Sam opened his eyes and stonewalled Walker with a hard look. "You know who."
Walker nodded. "Dean."
"He kept trying to say something to me...but I couldn't understand him. I kept calling his name, he didn't seem to hear me," said Sam slowly, frowning.
"Sometimes that happens," said Walker wisely. "Sometimes it's simply a dream we cannot interact with. I'm not surprised. But you shouldn't be discouraged. What else happened? Why do you think you couldn't talk to him?"
Sam was hesitant on the next part. It was one thing to explain a creepy room, it was another thing altogether to explain why he couldn't talk to it's occupant. The words formed on his lips but he bit them back.
But at this point there was no point in hiding it.
"You can tell me, Sam. Nothing leaves this room," Walker assured him.
Liar. If he started spewing crap about suicide, he'd tell Estelle and Mark. And then Sam would be put in a padded room. Seemed like a welcome respite from all this.
"I probably couldn't hear him...," Sam began dolefully. "Because he was on fire."
Silence followed his words and Sam stared at his own hands for a long moment. "He was burning...alive...I thought the fire was hurting him...I think it was...but I couldn't hear him over the sound. He was staring at me...I think he wanted me to help him but...I couldn't understand what he was saying.."
Walker was silent for a long time that Sam thought he had gone into shock. When he looked up however, the doctor's face was contemplative. He was tapping his lip with his pen and then slowly, he lowered it.
"Sam, why do you think it's so important for these dreams to mean something to you?" Walker asked, and he held up a hand because Sam had opened his mouth to protest. "No...I've told you before. I believe what you say...but this man...this Dean that meant so much to you. Seeing him in pain. Don't you think it's possible that you're seeing him only because subconsciously your mind has come up with a worst case scenario? Or in this case, an extreme case scenario?"
He hadn't told him Dean was a demon. Just that he was a very powerful being that Sam knew who once had his life tied to Sam before he purposely broke the connection to save Sam...and now he was dead.
As there was no proof that a 'very powerful being' named Dean existed...they thought he was crazy. Of course not. Dean probably didn't have any birth certificate. He probably didn't have any credit cards...being a demon. And eye witnesses would probably just point him as a regular man with short brown hair and striking green eyes.
"It's survivor's guilt," Walker continued. "Perhaps you believe it was your fault that he died...or you're angry that he died and you're still alive. It's actually pretty common."
"No," said Sam, feeling himself go red. "I am not one of your textbook cases. I'm nothing in your damn textbook. I'm not feeling guilty because Dean died. I'm not guilty at all. Dean died because he wanted to. He's exactly where he wanted to be. He had no choice. There's nothing I can do for him. But...If..."
"If..?" Walker prompted. He seemed relatively unphased by Sam's outburst, probably having heard it from patients millions of times before.
"If he's in trouble," said Sam uncertainly. "Then what am I supposed to do? What can I do? I mean I keep seeing it happen...and there's nothing I can do from here...So why is he reaching out to me of all people? It...shouldn't be happening."
And that was true. Dean had sworn a life debt to Sam a long time ago. From what Sam understood, that meant his life was tied to Sam's until release unless he swore it to someone else. And he did, effectively severing the connection they once shared. So why was Sam still seeing Dean in vivid images when his mind went to sleep?
Perhaps there was some lingering effects of the bond they once shared.
"It's all right, Sam," said Walker. "The dreams will pass. Dreams are usually a manifestation of what our subconscious is thinking. I believe that once you're through mourning Dean...you'll stop dreaming of him. All you have to do...is release the pain you feel from losing him. I'm not saying it's going to be easy or fully pass...but maybe one day, you might be able to let him go."
In other words, do what he planned on doing. Maybe his heart wasn't truly set on it when he thought it before. Because suddenly a wave of pain washed over him at Walker's words. He didn't want to let Dean go. He didn't want to forget...but he had to.
"I think time's up," said Sam in a small whisper.
Walker sighed and checked his watch after a long moment. "No, we still have about twenty minutes left."
"That's all right," said Sam, standing and pulling his backpack up from next to the chair. "We can go longer next week."
"It doesn't work that way, Sam,"
"Humor me," said Sam sardonically, mirroring the Doctor's words as he turned to leave. Home wasn't a welcome prospect either but he wasn't about to sit here and get his head examined any longer. Time to just sleep it off and hope that burning dead people wouldn't invade his subconscious tonight.