"I'm done with it." I tell Sam and that has to be the biggest lie I've told him yet. I'm so far away from done with 'it', done with him, that I'm on the other side of the world from 'done with it'.


"Bobby – Bobby, we've got – I've got – uh – there's a situation. With Sam."

We're at a crappy gas station in a one-crappy-gas-station town. Sam's gone into the bathroom to wash the blood off of himself I expect. We haven't talked about it. We haven't said anything. I'm not going to say anything if I can reasonably help it or I might just strangle on all the words twisting around inside of me.

"Sam? What's going on?" Bobby asks. "It's not his arms is it? I thought they were all healed up."

"No, not his arms. He's – he was -." And for all the really weird impossible things I've ever had to say in my life, I never thought I'd ever be saying this. "He's been drinking demon blood."

"What?" The shock in Bobby's voice matches the shock I felt in my gut when I realized.

"That's how he's had the power to kill demons. It's that bitch Ruby. She's -." She's dead, I thought to myself. "She got him addicted to it somehow."

For a second I think I see the knob on the bathroom door turn and I panick, but the door doesn't open.

"Look Bobby – I don't have much time. Sam's in the head. How do I help him? How do we – how do I help him?"

"Get him to my place. We'll take care of it."

Bobby sounds so sure and so no nonsense I'm almost dizzy from relief.

We'll take care of it. We can help Sam.

"How? How do I get him there without making him suspicious? I don't want to spook him, I don't want to tip him off."

"Leave that to me then Dean. I got a few things to take care of. I'll call as soon as I'm set. Just keep Sam with you and in the dark."

"All right."

And we hang up and I'm curious what Bobby has in mind but I stash my phone and get back in the car and wait for Sam. He's back in another minute and we get back on the road and it's a quiet drive for a long time.


Sammy still exists. My little brother is still alive inside the hard shell of who – what – he had to become when I was in hell. I know because he still trusts me, and this Sam, this hard, driven man, would never trust me if Sammy wasn't there somewhere. He trusts me enough to believe my silence in the car, to believe my lie 'I'm done with it.' when he wants to fight. He follows me in his usual spot, just behind me, into Bobby's house, into Bobby's cellar, and he trusts me enough to not suspect a thing when I let him walk first into Bobby's panic room. And it breaks my heart that he trusts me enough to be surprised when Bobby shuts the door on him. And it breaks my heart when he calls out my name from behind that door, the way he used to when he was scared or in trouble or both. He trusts me enough to believe I'll save him, I'll protect him.

Please just trust me until we can open that door again.

The End.