Okay so I know it's been a little while between stories, but I wanted to put this little one shot up, as a tag to 'Nightshifter,' before I put an actual story up… Because right now I'm stumped as to a story to write. I also thought that the look Sam gave Ronald during the episode had a lot of emotions hidden behind it, that needed to be let out.
If you want to give me an e-mail or post a challenge on a review, and I will write a story according to the challenge… It would help me get off the writer's funk…
I own nothing to do with Supernatural... That's Kripke's, the lucky bast- man... And the song is 'Changes' by 3 Doors Down...
So please read and review…
I'm not supposed to be scared of anything
But I don't know where I am
I wish that I could move but I'm exhausted
And nobody understands
(How I feel)
I'm tryin' hard to breathe now but there's no air in my lungs
There's no one here to talk to
And the pain inside is making me numb
Sam walked through the door of the hotel, looking back in the room to make sure Dean hadn't woken up. He just needed some breathing space, and ever since he had made Dean promise to kill him at that hotel back in Connecticut, his older brother had been watching him like a hawk.
When Eva had been taken or even killed, and her husband left dead in her home after Gordon had tried to kill him, Sam had just about lost it. Then all those people had been killed by Maggie in the hotel, the buyer right under his nose; and Sam couldn't save him.
Right after that Resnick, who had been right about things not being right with all the people dying, and had tracked down the shape shifter by himself, had been shot by the cops trying to take down the thing. Trying to save people.
And Sam couldn't save him…
And now the cops were looking for both Dean and him, on the suspicion that they were monsters, killers, murderers… Sam may not have known about himself, but he was sure that Dean wasn't a murderer.
Sam didn't know what he was or what he would become. He didn't know if he would turn without a second thought if the demon came to him. All he knew was that he was a curse to everyone around him, and that his supposed gift was getting a lot of people killed.
Sam dropped to his knees on the road, and drove his fist in the ground. Pain blossomed in his hand, but Sam ignored it. Sam thought about all the people that had died around him; not knowing or caring if anyone was coming down the road right at that moment. Heck maybe if they did he would be put out his misery, and everyone else's.
Dean was right, they were so screwed.
Sam looked up when headlights cut into his vision, not even bothering to move. As he peered into the cab on the truck coming at him, he didn't see anyone driving… hmm that was weird…
Sam chuckled to himself when the man who was driving the truck sat up, holding a CD triumphantly. He didn't even see Sam until the CD was in the player, and he was too close to Sam to stop in time. The horrified look on the man's face was the last thing Sam saw before he felt hands under his arms pulling him back.
He was pulled off the road and landed with his back to someone's chest. Sam blinked and turned his head to see who had pulled him out of the way. He found Dean staring back him, fear and pain written on his face and in his eyes.
"What the hell, Sam?" Dean asked him, but Sam didn't answer. He didn't know. Couldn't figure out why he was still alive.
Dean must have sensed his confusion, because he stood up, not looking for answers anymore. He grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him up, his face crinkling in confusion when Sam hissed in pain.
Looking down at Sam's hand, he saw the split knuckles. Blood was smeared all over his fingers, and the top of his hand.
"Oh Sammy." Dean's voice was sincere and pain filled for his brother. He led Sam back to the hotel room. Once in the room, Dean led him over to the bed furthest from the door, and pushed him down, so he was sitting on the edge of it.
He walked to the bathroom, and grabbed the first aid kit and a wet cloth. When he walked back out of the bathroom, Sam hadn't moved an inch, and Dean sighed to himself. He walked over to Sam, set the stuff down, and snagged a chair from the desk behind him.
"You know Sam, if you keep this up, you're gonna re-break your arm." Dean said softly as he washed the blood off Sam's knuckles.
Sam didn't answer him, he didn't even look up at his brother, too lost in his own thoughts to really even notice his older brother.
Dean finished cleaning Sam's hand, and wrapped gauze around it a few times. "M'tired, Dean." Sam said softly, and Dean looked up, startled. Sam's tired gaze met his own, and Dean nodded, knowing now was not the time to talk about what had just happened.
Now was not the time to discuss the possibility that his baby brother was suicidal.
Dean hauled Sam up, and led him around the bed, pulling back the covers; and Sam laid down. Dean pulled the covers over him, just as he had when they had been younger, tucking Sam in.
Sam could feel Dean gaze on him as he turned to lay on his side. He knew his brother wanted answers, but Sam wasn't ready to answer them, not now, and maybe not ever…
So what did you think?
Review please and feed me, and I will love you forever and ever.