For a moment, Dean thought Sam was going to go back to giving him the cold shoulder, but then he noticed a tear running down Sam’s cheek. He shuffled his feet oddly, unwilling to leave his spot.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly, but he kept his eyes shut.
He could have asked, For what? and maybe he should have, but what Dean actually ended up saying was, “So am I.”
Sam’s eyes opened, glassy and bloodshot and he looked up at the ceiling. “He always does this.”
“He…who?” Dean’s heart started thudding unhappily in his chest again.
“Lucifer.”
“Is that who you were talking to before?”
Sam turned his head away and cracked the knuckles of his right hand. “He says I deserve this.”
“Deserve what? Sam, what did he do to you? That light - was that- was that him?”
“When I die, I’m going right back into the Cage. That’s what he’s always said.” Another tear slid down the side of Sam’s face. “And I accept that.”
“Bullshit, you won’t-”
“But he won’t let me die.”
And what could Dean say to that, really?
“Every time I get close, he heals me. It doesn’t matter that he’s trapped down there, he can still do things. He can make my body whole, keep me up here, even when-”
“When what, Sam?”
“When...nobody wants me here.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Sam scoffed, and weak as he was, it sounded more like a cough. He closed his eyes again.
“No,” Dean said angrily. “Answer the damn question.”
Sam sat up and glared at Dean, but his voice betrayed him, breaking. “You can’t forgive me. You’re with me because you feel obligated to be, because we’re family. But in the end, I let you down. I always let you down. I didn’t get you out of Purgatory. I didn’t get you out of Hell. I chose Ruby. I opened Lucifer’s Cage.”
“And you locked him back up,” Dean said. “You want to talk mistakes?”
Sam shook his head.
Dean continued anyway. “I trusted Cas the whole time he was plotting with Crowley. I got Death to put up a drywall in your head, and when Cas broke it, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help. I watched you go insane, talking to the Devil in your head, and now I don’t even know if- I mean jeez, Sam- were you even hallucinating? If he can heal you, then what if every time you saw him-”
“Stop-” Sam held up his hand, “Let’s not go there. Not right now, at least.” He looked up at Dean. “Please.”
“Fine.” Dean swallowed. “You hungry? You haven’t eaten anything in days.”
“Not really. Thirsty though.”
“Well we’ve got water and beer, so uh…I think the machine outside has some iced tea or ginger ale or something else you’ll drink.” Dean grabbed his jacket off the bed. “That sound good?”
Sam stared at him for a second, like he wasn’t sure of what he’d heard. “Yeah.”
Dean jogged back across the street, suddenly uneasy at having left Sam alone so soon after - whatever had happened. He threw open the door and found Sam changing into a clean shirt. His skin looked a little more normal and his smile, even though it was weak, was genuine.
“Took you long enough.”
“Yeah well, the first machine didn’t have anything good.” Dean pulled the bundle he was holding out from under his arm and threw it to Sam.
Sam fumbled with the oddly shape package but caught it, looking up at Dean, confused.
“And maybe I had to get something else, too.” Dean shrugged his jacket off and cleared his throat. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”
Sam stared at the bundle and then back up at Dean. “It’s Christmas?”
“Yup.”
“But I- I didn’t get you-”
“Yeah, yeah. You can get me something when you can walk by yourself again.” He handed the can of ginger ale to Sam. “Now shut up and open it.”
“When I die, I’m going right back into the Cage. That’s what he’s always said.” Another tear slid down the side of Sam’s face. “And I accept that.” That broke me. OMG poor Sammy. And if he WASN'T hallucinating? I would love to see you turn this into a longer story. This could be awesome.
For a moment, Dean thought Sam was going to go back to giving him the cold shoulder, but then he noticed a tear running down Sam’s cheek. He shuffled his feet oddly, unwilling to leave his spot.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly, but he kept his eyes shut.
He could have asked, For what? and maybe he should have, but what Dean actually ended up saying was, “So am I.”
Sam’s eyes opened, glassy and bloodshot and he looked up at the ceiling. “He always does this.”
“He…who?” Dean’s heart started thudding unhappily in his chest again.
“Lucifer.”
“Is that who you were talking to before?”
Sam turned his head away and cracked the knuckles of his right hand. “He says I deserve this.”
“Deserve what? Sam, what did he do to you? That light - was that- was that him?”
“When I die, I’m going right back into the Cage. That’s what he’s always said.” Another tear slid down the side of Sam’s face. “And I accept that.”
“Bullshit, you won’t-”
“But he won’t let me die.”
And what could Dean say to that, really?
“Every time I get close, he heals me. It doesn’t matter that he’s trapped down there, he can still do things. He can make my body whole, keep me up here, even when-”
“When what, Sam?”
“When...nobody wants me here.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Sam scoffed, and weak as he was, it sounded more like a cough. He closed his eyes again.
“No,” Dean said angrily. “Answer the damn question.”
Sam sat up and glared at Dean, but his voice betrayed him, breaking. “You can’t forgive me. You’re with me because you feel obligated to be, because we’re family. But in the end, I let you down. I always let you down. I didn’t get you out of Purgatory. I didn’t get you out of Hell. I chose Ruby. I opened Lucifer’s Cage.”
“And you locked him back up,” Dean said. “You want to talk mistakes?”
Sam shook his head.
Dean continued anyway. “I trusted Cas the whole time he was plotting with Crowley. I got Death to put up a drywall in your head, and when Cas broke it, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help. I watched you go insane, talking to the Devil in your head, and now I don’t even know if- I mean jeez, Sam- were you even hallucinating? If he can heal you, then what if every time you saw him-”
“Stop-” Sam held up his hand, “Let’s not go there. Not right now, at least.” He looked up at Dean. “Please.”
“Fine.” Dean swallowed. “You hungry? You haven’t eaten anything in days.”
“Not really. Thirsty though.”
“Well we’ve got water and beer, so uh…I think the machine outside has some iced tea or ginger ale or something else you’ll drink.” Dean grabbed his jacket off the bed. “That sound good?”
Sam stared at him for a second, like he wasn’t sure of what he’d heard. “Yeah.”
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*******
Dean jogged back across the street, suddenly uneasy at having left Sam alone so soon after - whatever had happened. He threw open the door and found Sam changing into a clean shirt. His skin looked a little more normal and his smile, even though it was weak, was genuine.
“Took you long enough.”
“Yeah well, the first machine didn’t have anything good.” Dean pulled the bundle he was holding out from under his arm and threw it to Sam.
Sam fumbled with the oddly shape package but caught it, looking up at Dean, confused.
“And maybe I had to get something else, too.” Dean shrugged his jacket off and cleared his throat. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”
Sam stared at the bundle and then back up at Dean. “It’s Christmas?”
“Yup.”
“But I- I didn’t get you-”
“Yeah, yeah. You can get me something when you can walk by yourself again.” He handed the can of ginger ale to Sam. “Now shut up and open it.”
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The part where Dean asks if Sam is hallucinating at all was just perfect. Thanks
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That broke me. OMG poor Sammy.
And if he WASN'T hallucinating? I would love to see you turn this into a longer story. This could be awesome.
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