Notes: Title comes from the poem No Man Is An Island, by John Donne. I pretty much ship Sam with everyone, so everything's open to interpretation. Canon's canon, other than that, read it however tickles your fancy. I'd love to hear what you think!

The first time a stranger tries to touch Sam without permission after he's born, Mary nearly breaks the grabby bastard's arm. She smiles with all her teeth, and does not apologize.

"Some people think that because Sammy doesn't complain, they can do whatever they want to him," she explains to Dean on the way home. "It's up to us to show them that they're wrong."


Sam starts coming home from school with bruises one week when he's six. He ducks his head and bites his lip and refuses to talk about it, but when Dad gets home takes a look and uses his sternest voice and gets the names. They're speeding out of town by noon the next day, and the teachers at Milton Elementary never do figure out why that rowdy group of fifth graders stopped picking on the younger kids.

When Sam is sixteen he spends two days puking his guts up. By the end of it he's ten pounds lighter and dangerously dehydrated, his pathetic dry heaving not even able to bring tears to his eyes anymore. He swears he didn't take anything, hasn't been drinking, only ate a salad from a chain restaurant for dinner and cold cereal for breakfast. It's probably just a bug, he says, don't worry about it, he says.

A day later Dean figures it out: some idiot wannabe punk who thought they were friends thought it would be funny to slip some nausea-inducers into the little brother's soda.

By the time they leave town, the idiot doesn't think they're friends anymore. He also can't move three of his fingers.


Sam gets flak about plenty of things at Stanford: his clothes, his hair, his scholarship, the weekends he spends studying and working. No one means anything by it, usually – but there are lines, and sometimes his trust-fund almost-adult classmates don't see them. Jess watches his jaw tighten and his eyes darken one too many times, and pulls Becky to the side.

"If you say one more word about his family, everyone in this dorm will know exactly what you did to pass econ."

Becky lets out a mortified squeak as her cheeks flush bright red. Jess leaves her hyperventilating as she returns to Sam's side, pecks him on the cheek, and blithely ignores the question in his eyes.


News spreads fast that saying a word against the Winchesters within Bobby Singer's hearing is a bad idea, no matter what you've heard about the youngest's blood.


When the rumors about Sam reach the Roadhouse, Ellen has to physically restrain Jo to keep her from scaling the bar and showing the loudmouth the business end of the shotgun.

"Mom!" Jo protests as soon as they're out of earshot, bristling with righteous indignation. "He said –"

"I heard what he said," Ellen cuts her off. "But shooting a paying customer full of buckshot ain't good business, no matter what sort of dribble he's spouting."

"But Sam –"

"—has a good head on his shoulders and would want this handled in a mature, adult way," Ellen finishes. She lets Jo's outraged look settle for just a second, then pulls an empty gas can from the cabinet. "The jackass' car is the green sedan out front. Fuel gage is broken. Don't siphon off too much; we want him out of walking distance when he runs out."

Jo grins at her and slips out the door, a spring in her step. Ellen heads back to the bar, gritting her teeth as she hears the hunter still going on about demons and powers and a boy who's worth ten of him. She should have told Jo to key the car, as well.


When her date starts talking about the Winchesters and how he hopes they manage to execute those sick sons-of-bitches soon, Sarah throws her drink in his face and stalks away without a word of explanation.


Ruby does not feel regret as she plunges her knife into those who some would call her brothers and sisters. Sam's mouth is hungry on her skin. He's so tired, so desperate, but she will show him the way. They will be honored in her father's kingdom, king and queen in their own rights.

She's doing this for both of them.


Dean is not the one who catches up with Roy and Walt.

Lucifer does not appreciate people harming what's his.


When Gabriel realizes the sheer number of humans who are after Sam Winchester for one reason or another, he figures he's found himself a new hobby. It's not like he cares, or anything – but yeah, alright, he has developed a certain attachment to the dewy-eyed Sasquatch of a hunter. There was just something inescapably endearing about him, like an over-sized puppy who can't quite make it up the stairs but keeps trying anyway.

So yeah. Maybe he spends pretty much all his time leading vengeful hunters and true-crime fanatics and supernatural survivors down dead-end roads. He has to do something while he's not choosing sides.


Sam is screaming.

Castiel will battle all the legions of Hell to save him.


The first time a stranger tries to touch Sam without permission after the Wall falls, Dean nearly breaks the drunk bitch's arm. He smiles with all his teeth, and does not apologize.

Some people think that because Sammy doesn't complain, they can do whatever they want to him.

They're wrong.