Missing scene to "Like A Virgin"

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Sam was alone.

When Cas winged out again, the room felt oppressively quiet. Sam sat there at the table and stared at the chair across from him, the chair Dean had sat in.

He wished Dean was there with him now.

But he was alone.

Cas had told Sam everything, everything that he knew had happened, and few more things that he'd surmised, extrapolated, and inferred had happened for that year and a half of hell. That year and a half of calculated brutality. That year and a half of unknown, untold, unapologetic horror.

That year and a half that Sam, without his soul, had walked free, leaving scorched earth wherever he stepped.

Sam wished Dean was sitting there right now. He wished he could tell Dean that he knew, what he knew, how little he still knew. He wanted to hear Dean say 'Hey, it's okay. We'll figure it out. We'll take care of it. It's gonna be okay.'

But Sam was alone. The chair was empty, the room was empty. Dean was in another state, ten hours away. Sam was alone, surrounded with fear and doubt, incomplete memories and overwhelming guilt.

Bobby could barely stand to talk to him, Sam understood that now. He understood why. Dean was so happy to have him back, he'd given Sam blanket forgiveness for every bad thing he knew Sam had ever done, and every worse thing that he never needed to know Sam had done.

Right now, Sam was somewhere between those two points of view, and probably a little closer to Bobby's take on things.

He looked around the motel room again. He wished Dean was there; Dean would help him make sense of everything. But Dean was in San Francisco, and San Francisco was a ten hour drive from Portland, so Dean was still at least 10 hours away or more, depending on how he was coming with Bobby's contact.

And he could be with Lisa and Ben right now.

But he couldn't be with Lisa and Ben now, or ever probably, because of Sam.

Sam wished Dean was there.

With nothing else to do but more research, Sam went back to his computer. The sooner they got the dragons taken care of, the sooner they could head back to Bobby's and –

And what? Sam wondered. Go back to Bobby's and avoid him? He knew that he could apologize to Bobby for trying to kill him, but who knew if that would be enough. After Sam had opened the door to the Cage, Bobby had categorically told him that he'd never throw him out. But now – who knew?

Sam sighed and tried another search for dragon lore, just in case the sewers didn't pan out as a hiding place. But his fingers froze over the keys as he wondered – had Soulless Sam used this computer? Not that it mattered he supposed; a good computer was a good computer regardless of who used it. Had he worn these clothes? These boots? He'd sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, that much was true.

He'd had all that time with Dean.

Dean.

Sam wanted Dean.

He pulled out his phone but hesitated before hitting speed dial. The way he was feeling at the moment, he might not be able to hear Dean even on voice mail without babbling out everything he was feeling; if Dean actually answered, it would be a million times worse.

But he wanted to hear Dean's voice, even if it was just his voice on voicemail. He punched speed dial and waited.

"This is Dean. Leave me a message."

"Hey, it's me. Um – so - what'd Bobby's contact have to say? Anything we can use? I – um – just – was wondering - when you're heading back. Just – um – be careful. Okay? Um – all right, then. Bye."

He hung up, feeling more than a little stupid, and wondered if there was a way to recall a voicemail like there was to recall an email. Maybe technology had progressed that far in the year and a half he'd been gone.

With his luck, probably not.

He sighed and tossed the phone on the table and stared at his computer another half minute before he shut it down and closed it up and sighed again.

He wanted Dean.

But even if Dean was here, Sam couldn't – wouldn't – tell him what he knew, that he knew anything at all. Not in the middle of a job. He'd have to wait until the dragon was dead and nothing else was on their plate at the moment.

And when he did tell Dean – when he told Dean that he knew what he'd done and that he knew he had to make amends for as much of it as he could – Dean would immediately amp up into Overly-Protective-Big-Brother-Warrior mode and watch Sam's every move and 'Dean-terpret' Sam's every word and oh-so-precisely monitor Sam's every single action, from eating to sleeping to –

His phone ringing stopped Sam in mid-thought and he reached out to scoop it up from the table.

Dean.

"Hey." Sam answered the phone. "How's it going in San Fran?"

"Uhh – y'ever hear of the sword of Brunswick?"

"Depends - Brunswick or Bruncvik?"

For an answer, he got a long pause from Dean. Then,

"Ok-ay. I'll take that as a 'yes'. Either way, we need it, I've got it. I'm gonna grab something to eat and get back on the road. How's it going at your end?"

"Got some ideas, still working on it. I need to get some plans for the city. I think the Streets Department will probably have what I need."

"Whoa – wait – before you go rushing out - did you sleep last night?"

"Yeah. Full eight and everything."

"Eight?" Dean questioned.

"Seven."

"Sam?"

"All right, six. But you know – I've been doing hardly anything but sleeping lately. I'm good."

"Uh hunh. And you ate - -?"

"I had the tacos that were leftover."

"And?"

"There was enough. I'll get something when I'm out."

"Un hunh. How's everything else? Everything still working A-OK?"

"So help me, Dean – if you ask me when the last time was I relieved myself, I am ending this conversation."

"Well, even from this distance, I can tell your bitch-face is still in working order." Dean said. "All right. I'm getting on the road. I'll be there in ten. Get your city plans and get some more sleep. We'll hit this again as soon as I get there."

"Yeah, all right. Drive safe."

"Yeah. Call me when you get back to the room."

The call ended on Dean's order and Sam put the phone back into his pocket, thinking a hundred things about bossy, over-protective, big brothers.

One bossy, over-protective, big brother in particular.

At least Sam wasn't alone anymore.

The end.