WinchesterHaunt: I’m writing this because I feel that Sam was abused (as far as air time goes) on last week’s episode. Also, I’m not a Jo fan, so this fic won’t be speaking in her favor. Though, there’s really no outright bashing. And with that said, please enjoy my first—and hopefully not my last—tag of the season.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Puh’lease, they own me!

Summery: Missing Scene “No Exit”: Sam heads upstairs alone to begin his wall-search for the missing girls. But what happens when his emotions over the passed few months finally catch up with him?

These Walls Won’t Hold

No Exit Missing Scene

Dean wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted every wall in the apartment complex smashed. Not that Sam thought he was; he was just hoping his brother had a more strategic plan under that macho statement. Sam should have known better. Dean was always the guns a blazin’, shatter-and-scatter, in and out and don’t forget to haul ass type.

Most of the time, Dean’s half-baked schemes were sketchy and created in the heat of the moment. Sometimes it amazed Sam how adequate some of them were, but most of the time they only covered the brute force of the operation. They lacked calculation, and Sam knew that was where he came in. He was the brains behind Dean’s brawn. It was what made them great partners. They complemented each other’s skills in ways most hunting duos only hoped too.

Or at least, that’s what he thought. The past few days were starting to make him reconsider.

“You take the top floor, Sam, “Dean shouldered his sledge hammer with a typical lack of discretion. Apparently his older brother didn’t feel the need to stow the large tool away in a duffle bag like Sam had, “me and Jo will take the middle.”

Sam nodded stiffly and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t being kicked off Dean and Jo’s team for the second time in the passed two days. They just needed to cover more ground, and splitting up was the best way to go about it.

Maybe his reasoning would have been more effective had he not suddenly found himself wondering when Dean and Jo had become a team.

“And if we find something—,”

“Or someone, “Jo corrected, not noticing the way Sam’s jaw hung for a second before his teeth clamped back together. She took her cell phone from her pocket and held it up in demonstration, “I’ll check in with you periodically. That way if either of us find something, then the other will know; and this way we’ll also know if something finds us first.”

“Okay,” seemed to be the only word Sam could get to leave his throat. Apparently that part of the plan was covered, “but what if—?”

“You call us if we haven’t called you,” the blonde finished and pocketed her phone.

Sam looked over at Dean for a beat before averting his eyes to his jacket pocket where his hand lay submerged and curled around his phone. He nodded again and hoped it didn’t look nearly as dejected as he felt.

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean voiced his approval. A moment of silence followed and Sam’s curiosity caused him to pick his head up. A look of confusion passed over his face as Dean’s calculating gaze met his before settling on Jo. The older hunter suddenly let out an over-the-top sigh before shaking his head, “it was bad enough being stuck with one geek, now I’ve got two. You both are crimping my style.”

Dean flashed an amused grin into the space between his two younger companions. He didn’t give either one of them time to react before turning on his heels and making his exit down the hallway. His hasty get-a-way didn’t save him from Jo’s indigent and vociferous protest as she quickly tailed him; but had Dean waited, he would have caught the hurt look on Sam’s face.

---

The elevator dinged as it reached the top floor. Sam adjusted the heavy duffle bag strap higher on his shoulder and silently contemplated how he was going to bust down the walls without alerting every tenet on the floor. The doors parted with a small rusty squeak and Sam managed a slight smile as he came face to face with a young lady waiting on the other side. He nodded his head in a silent greeting before excusing himself and slipping passed her. The woman seemed a bit embarrassed that Sam had to slink around her, but if she knew about the danger lurking around the apartment complex, she’d be quite thankful for her bigger build and brunette hair.

Sam ran his hand along the side of the wall, trying to size up the best area to begin work. Every now and again he’d stop and lightly rap his knuckles against a certain spot. He was hoping to find a reasonably sized area with the fewest support beams. He knew he’d have an easier time if he didn’t get entangled with those things. It’d also prevent Sam from bringing down a larger portion of the building than he planned too.

It took shorter time than he’d expected to find the perfect piece of almost beamless wall. It was close to the end of the hallway and thankfully out of the way.

Sam laid his duffle on the floor and pealed back the flaps to reveal the moderately sized sledge hammer. He had just positioned it against the wall and drew back when a sharp ring echoed through the quiet corridor.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself as his hand groped for the phone in his jacket pocket.

“Yeah,” he answered, sliding the hammer onto the floor and allowing the handle to rest against his leg.

“How’s it coming?”

Sam tilted his wrist up where he could get a glimpse of his watch. Had it been ten minutes already?

“Good,” he lied, sort of. Things technically couldn’t get bad until he started. Which was something he’d have done by now had he not been interrupted.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. The only sound that could be heard was a faint grunt followed by a loud bang. Another bang, less powerful than the one before, followed shortly after and Sam figured Dean was almost finished with his self made crater.

“You haven’t even started, have you?”

The banging on the other line stopped for a beat and Sam could almost imagine Jo’s hand-on-hip stance while Dean eyed the phone curiously.

“What makes you think that?” the younger Winchester answered back, feeling his own stubbornness trying to weasel its way into his voice. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt this way, but the next comment that came floating over the phone didn’t help any.

“Come on, Sammy,” it was Dean’s voice and from the faintness of it Sam figured he was yelling from a distance, “even Jo would’ve been finished by now.”

Sam barely heard the loud pop and Dean’s indigent cry of pain over the ringing of his own ears. Had he not been on a completely different floor than them, Sam would have sworn he’d been the one struck. And in a sense he had been, just not physically.

“Because, we’ve yet to hear any banging from you, “Jo’s voice came back over the line answering his earlier question.

A thread of annoyance suddenly pulled tight over Sam’s forehead, drawing the skin up and making it wrinkle. His fingers snaked around the handle of the hammer and locked themselves into a tight grip. He didn’t even know he was moving, but the next thing he was aware of was a loud bang bouncing off the walls and the punctured drywall that molded around the sledge hammer’s head.

Sam stared at the hole with something inkling to horrified fascination. He almost missed Dean’s “damn” that came floating through the receiver. But even as he heard it, he didn’t reply to it. All his concentration was on the handle protruding from the wall and the way his hand was still attached to it.

“Now that’s better,” Jo’s voice once again reached his ears, but he didn’t care for anything she had to say right now. His silence proved that, “Sam?”

“I’ve gotta go,” Sam deadpanned before snapping the lid of his cell shut. His eyes never left the hole as he pocketed the mobile phone.

Sam studied the small crater. He noted how the bland wallpaper curled back and away from the hammer’s head, leaving the damage beneath exposed. A pile of fine powder from the crumbling drywall lay on the floor; more came to join it as Sam gave the tool a test twist. He also noticed the splintered wood on the right side. Apparently he’d nailed the beam he had been trying so hard to avoid.

But as Sam twisted the hammer again and yanked it free, he found that he didn’t really care about the missed target or the broken beam. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the temporary release he felt.

It had been a long time since Sam had struck anything out of anger—since he first started Stanford, he guessed. And even after he’d left college, the supernatural things he’d roughed up and soon destroyed were done out of duty, not anger. It wasn’t his style to strike out in rage. That was Dean’s MO, and Sam had the privilege of finding that out first hand.

Words had always been Sam’s out. Talking things over always made him feel better, always gave him that release he needed in order to keep from exploding. It was something he and Jess use to do. It was soothing and effective and totally obsolete since her death. Now, Dean was the only other person he had in the world to talk to. He was the only other person that knew Sam better than he knew himself and he was also the only person in the world who would rather open up to anybody but Sam.

So damn it if he’d forgotten why he was beating a hole in the wall to begin with. Just as long as he could smash it and pretend it was his problems, that would be reason enough for him.

Sam drew back the hammer and drove it into the drywall again. He didn’t wait for the cloud of powder to clear before hauling off and colliding with the structure again.

He huffed as the hammer flew into the wall for the third time; except to Sam, it hadn’t been the wall. There, standing in front of him was a stubborn looking John Winchester. He eyed Sam with something close to disapproval, but the younger didn’t care. In that moment he hated his father. Hated him for leaving them, hated him for laying everything on Dean’s shoulders, and most of all he hated him for the life style he’d forced on them.

The image of his belated father didn’t last long under Sam’s ferocious swings, but just as quickly as John faded, Gordon came to take his place.

Sam sneered at the deranged hunter. His cocky stance and matching smile sickened him. Gordon was a true killer and had tried to convince his already broken brother that he was too. Dean had sucker punched the low-life before leaving the abandoned house, but Sam was more than pleased that he was going to finally get his swing in.

The younger Winchester’s breathing became more labored and his hands tingled from the vibrations rippling up the handle. But it didn’t matter, he didn’t care. Every emotion he’d been feeling over the passed few months, every thing he hadn’t been allowed to talk about was coming out now. He knew the way he was dispelling his anger was unhealthy, but God if it didn’t feel good.

Sam didn’t flinch as the spastic ringing and vibrating melody in his pocket found his ears. He knew it was Jo, and he couldn’t talk to the girl after he’d just smashed her image against the wall. He knew his anger toward her was unreasonable, but he couldn’t help but feel she was taking his place beside his brother. He couldn’t take that. As far as he was concerned, his place with Dean was the only place left in the world where he fit in and he couldn’t take the lose of that position.

The Demon finally made his appearance; just as bright eyed and evil as Sam had remembered the bastard to be. This was the thing he wanted to hurt the most, because it had hurt him the most. It had destroyed the family he’d never known and given him a family that was broken and falling to pieces right before his eyes. This was the swing he’d enjoy the most.

He drew back as best he could with the hindrance of his cast and swung the heavy ironed head straight for the Demon’s glowing eyes. Sam felt an odd grin twitch at the side of his mouth as the hammer closed in on its’ target. He would savor the sickening crack from this hit and carry it with him until he could reenact the scene on the real thing.

But Sam realized as the hammer head soared right through the Demon’s head, that there was nothing left for him to hit.

The next thing Sam knew he was face down on the floor inside the wall. The hammer handle was still clutched in his hand and he was coughing up a lung full of powdered drywall he hadn’t known he’d inhaled.

Sam pushed himself up on his elbows and shook his head as a bead of swear fell from a clumped patch of bangs. He flipped his body so he was facing the hole he’d fallen through and a frown touched his lips at the sight. The opening was big enough to fit two people in at a time and if not for the splinters of wood littering the floor no one would have ever known a beam once divided the entrance.

The young hunter dropped his elbows and allowed his body to collapse onto his back. He couldn’t stare at the hole anymore. There was too many of his dark emotions beat into it, and he couldn’t bear to see the violent way in which he’d chose to release them.

He felt pathetic, truly pathetic. How could he have lost control like that?

Sam suddenly jumped and he quickly stuck his hand inside his pocket to silence the loud screech of his cell.

“Jo?” Sam took a guess as he pressed the speaker to his ear.

“Sam,” his name fell from the ear piece in a tone of annoyance, “Dean and I were about to come check on you. What the hell are you doing up there?”

“Sorry,” Sam replied, but he wasn’t feeling the apology. In fact, he wasn’t feeling much right now; especially not the high he had experienced when he first started. Everything was just sort of a dull pain now.

He swallowed and kept his eyes glued to the ceiling before finishing, “I had a little trouble with the wall.”

“Understatement,” she declared before her voice became farther away and undecipherable. Sam assumed she was talking to Dean and his assumption was confirmed when Jo’s voice rose in volume so that this time he could make out “yes, he’s fine, I’m sure,” and “Because he’s not a blonde girl,” which was shortly followed by, “Who the hell is Mordachai?”

Sam had a pretty good idea what crack Dean had taken at him from behind the other end of the phone. Normally he would have snorted or at least smiled at his brother’s ability to hold onto every little thing that could possible be embarrassing to his younger brother; but right now, Sam couldn’t find the humor in it. Maybe it was because Dean’s big brother, cheering up powers didn’t work through second hand phone calls.

“And you haven’t found anything?”

“No,” Sam replied after a second. He couldn’t believe he lost track of why he’d been busting through walls to begin with, “I’ll call you if I do.”

He didn’t wait for Jo’s reply. He didn’t need to be reminded of their ten minute check point; he knew she’d call again anyway. Right now, he just wanted to get his head back in the game and get as far away from that hole as he possibly could.

Sam grunted as he pushed himself up and forced his weary limbs to work. His back faced the hole and he didn’t bother looking back as he switched on his flashlight. He was afraid if he did, he’d see Max and Anson and all the emotions that had made them cold blooded killers. He wasn’t ready to face that. He wasn’t ready to completely believe that the same hatred the two psychics possessed was in him too.

Sam stepped farther into the narrowing inter-walls and realized with a sinking feeling that maybe it was a good thing Jo was taking his place. Because when Sam could no longer deny what he was, when Dean could no longer protect him, and when the Demon had had his way, his brother would need someone to be there for him. Sam prayed it would be him, but all he had to do was glance back at the shattered wall to know it wouldn’t be.

His hatred had easily destroyed that wall, and now that he’d seen it—felt it—he wondered how much longer it would be before his inner walls crumbled too.

End