This was just a small oneshot I wrote tonight. I don't even know what inspired me to write it. Truthfully I know I'm missing our sweet, sensitive, warm-hearted and caring Sammy and it just popped into my head and I just had to write it. It's angsty and full of Sam-centric goodness with a nice, big slice of Dean.
Monsters Don't Cry
"You chose a demon over your own brother. I just don't think I can trust you." His words continuously played over and over again in Sam's mind as the car's wheels zoomed beneath them.
Sam had stood in the middle of the parking lot of the hospital as Dean made his way back to the driver's side of the Impala. He watched his older brother open the door and stand there for a moment, staring down at the blackened pavement under his feet. Sam assumed that Dean fully intended to leave him there alone which meant that Sam would have to find himself some money, some clothes, somewhere to stay and would have to be on his own. He could do this. He'd done it before. All he needed to do was find a local bar, hustle some pool and everything would be alright. He could get out of hunting, away from it all and jumpstart a new life but it still wouldn't be enough. There would be no hiding from what he'd done.
Sam kept trying to push it to the back vestiges of his mind so he could stay focused on what they had to do, but little by little it inched it's way forward, pushing it's way through the fragile walls Sam had attempted to build over it so he could concentrate on the job and killing the Devil. "Are you coming or not?" spoke up the rough exterior of Dean's voice. "I-I...you, you want-," Sam stammered, barely getting his sentence out before he was interrupted by his older brother's sigh. "Yes, Sam. What, did you actually think I was going to leave you standing here all by yourself in the parking lot? Get in the damn car," gruffed Dean and Sam could hear the eyeroll in his voice. Taken by surprise, Sam shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and obeyed his brother. He slowly made his way over to the passenger's side of the car before opening up the door and sliding into the front seat, keeping his gaze averted from Dean's.
Usually, for Sam, this was the place that felt like home more than anything, but now it just felt foreign and wrong as he seated himself next to his brother. The tension was so thick in the car that you could slice through it with a knife...maybe. Sam sighed and rested his head up against the passenger side window and gazed out as the street lamps zoomed by while Dean drove around, hastily searching for another motel for them to stay in. Considering the damage done to the one they were previously staying in from the fight with Meg and her cronies, and Bobby's loss of lower body mobility, there was no going back to that one, so they drove on, the silence weighing heavily in the car. His older brother had switched on the radio at one point and the song that came on nearly ripped Sam's heart out of his chest just as quickly as Dean had shut the radio back off. It was Bon Jovi's Dead or Alive. It was the last song the brothers had listened to and loudly, as well as off-key, sang along to in the car just having fun and trying not to think of the hours fading, and nearing and nearing toward Dean's trip to the pit.
Sam took in a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly as the last hours replayed over and over again in his mind. Pumped up and contaminated by demon blood, Sam had nearly tried to kill his brother, but at that point Dean had told him he was a monster. Sam believed it. Monsters killed anyway. They even killed their own family. Monsters caused chaos and destruction. Why did it matter? Dean didn't want anything to do with him anymore. He was a monster now, something Dean would be compelled to hunt. And the moment Dean told him he was a monster, Sam believed it. He'd always believed Dean. Anything Dean had said Sam believed because that was just the way of big brothers and little brothers. Sam kept his now murderous hands clasped tightly in his lap. He didn't want to touch anything for fear of contaminating it too. Even though they'd been put on that airplane and Sam was cleaned right up, it still didn't matter. He was a murderer, he was evil. He had bled and drank an innocent woman, he'd chosen a demon over his own brother, he'd killed Lilith using his demonic ability. No, he wasn't a murderer. He was a monster. Monsters shouldn't have the right to even be here. Perhaps it'd just be easier if...
Sam was torn from his thoughts as nearly 20 miles later, the car came to a screeching halt just outside of a motel on the outskirts of some town. Dean shut the engine off and grabbed his keys, getting out of the car and making his way toward the office. Sam remained seated, staring out of the window and just now noticing the drizzle that had began making it's way down the windows. Pretty soon he could hear the soft pitter patter of rain falling in the car's rooftop. The driver's side door swiftly swung open jerking Sam from his reverie. "We're in room 3. I've got the keys right here," Dean told him, tossing one into his brother's lap. Sam looked down, surprised. He didn't expect Dean to give him his own key. "Well? Are you coming or what?" Dean asked again for the second time tonight. "You're not just gonna sit out here and sleep in the car all night. Let's go," he ordered and Sam grabbed the key from his lap. That's right. Monsters shouldn't be left alone. They shouldn't be able to sleep in Dean's car either. Dean didn't trust him anymore. Hell, Sam couldn't blame him for not trusting him to stay in the Impala alone either, but his confusion lie with why would Dean even want a monster near him?
Sam shrugged it off and stepped out into the rain, closing the passenger door gently. Dean popped open the trunk and the brothers gathered there things from the back of it. Dean had began hurriedly making his way toward their motel room, a white door with a gigantic, brass number 3 on the front. Sam sluggishly followed, not really caring if he was getting wet or not. Maybe if he stayed under the rain long enough, it might cleanse some of this evil he felt like was crawling all over his skin. "SAM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? HURRY UP! IT'S POURING!" Dean called as he'd already reached the motel room door and had it open. The younger Winchester jerked his head upward and stared at his brother for a moment before it registered to him that Dean didn't want him standing out here in the rain. Well, he couldn't blame him really. He'd get everything in the motel soaked. Not a good idea. Sam picked up the pace and hurried over to the door Dean held open for his younger brother. "The hell were you doing out there anyway, standing in the rain?" the older Winchester questioned as Sam found his way inside. "Sorry," he mumbled as he dropped his soaked duffel on the floor next to the door. He didn't want to put it on the bed. It might soak the sheets and he didn't want to do anything else that may upset his older brother.
"You're soaked," Dean pointed out the obvious. "Why don't you go ahead and take the first shower so you can warm up?" he suggested, gesturing toward the bathroom door. "We don't need you getting sick." Sam wasn't aware of the trembling he was doing as he stood in the middle of the motel room gazing around. The place wasn't too derelict like some, just the run of the mill everyday motel room. It didn't smell bad or look bad, so at least Dean would be able to rest in comfort. His eyes slid around the room and he noticed Dean's duffel on the bed next to the door which kind of surprised him. Dean always slept in the bed closest to the door to protect Sam, but since when did monsters need protecting? "Oh, umm...yeah, sure. I'll be back," Sam told him stooping into his wet duffel and finding that his clothes inside of it were dry. He pulled out his toothbrush and some toothpaste, a fresh pair of jeans, boxers and a shirt and headed toward the bathroom. He was just so oddly numb that he hadn't realized that the rain had really soaked him through, and he was freezing now. Sam gently shut the bathroom door shut behind him and tugged down a clean towel from rack just above the toilet. He approached the bathtub and turned on the water and flipped the shower on. Sam undressed out of his soaked garments, tossing them aside in a neat pile and stepped inside of the warm shower, allowing the hot water to cascade down over his head, his shoulders and his back. He felt the hot water soak into his skin and warm him up.
Sam gathered up the shampoo and soap provided by the motel. That was kind of a surprise. Some places didn't even offer these kinds of toiletries. Sam washed his hair clean and took the soap and began scrubbing himself. He scrubbed at himself so hard, hoping that maybe just maybe if he used up the entire bar of soap scrubbing at his skin he might be able to just scrub the evil right out of him, but then he remembered. It wasn't on his skin. It was inside of him. Inside of his blood. Maybe if he cut himself and let himself bleed out for long enough, he could get rid of that poison, that evil contaminating him, making him into something he didn't want to be. Sam continued scrubbing at his skin until it was red and then he stopped when he heard Dean beating on the bathroom door. "SAM! YOU'VE BEEN IN THERE FOR AGES, MAN! SOME OF US WOULD LIKE LIKE TO HAVE A HOT SHOWER TOO!" Sam shook himself from his thoughts and gazed toward the door. "Yeah! Sorry! Almost done!" he called back, but wasn't sure if Dean had even heard him.
Sam turned off the shower, stepped out, dried himself off and dressed. He left his toothbrush forgotten on the bathroom sink as he stared at himself in the mirror. Chuck had said his eyes turned black while he'd been killing Lilith, but as Sam gazed at his reflection, his eyes held no trace of black now except for his tiny pupil. His eyes were their normal blue-green with a touch of amber just tracing outside of his pupil. He didn't even really look evil. He didn't look like a monster. If he and Dean weren't at odds, Dean would probably say he looked like a beaten puppy or a puppy waiting for a beating. Truthfully, Sam just looked like his normal, usual self. Then again, how many things had he and his brother fought and defeated that didn't look evil, but turned out to be evil? Still. Monster. Freak. Monster. Freak. Monster. Dean had said he was a monster and Dean was always right. No matter what. Dean was right about Ruby. Dean was right about fighting Lilith and what it would turn him into. Monster. Sam felt his throat tighten and he lowered his head, shaking it back and forth, his hands gripping the sides of the sink. Sam was torn once again from his thoughts by Dean's banging on the door. "HURRY UP IN THERE! SOME OF US GOTTA GO TOO!" Running a hand down his face to compose himself, Sam shook his head and looked away from the mirror.
The younger Winchester opened the bathroom door and stepped out looking at Dean apologetically. "I'm sorry," he apologized to his older brother, momentarily meeting his brother's vibrant, green eyes before turning his head away, not able to look at him anymore. Dean didn't deserve to look into the face of a monster. "Dude, why are you dressed? You going somewhere?" the older brother observed as he gazed Sam up and down for a moment. "Don't you think you should get some sleep instead?" Sam looked down at himself and noticed that he wasn't in his regular sleeping clothes, but then again, monsters don't deserve to get the proper rest that's needed. Perhaps he would go somewhere. "Oh, I um...I just...," Sam struggled to find the words. "I thought maybe I'd just go pick us up some beer or something," he lied smoothly, gazing swiftly at his brother before turning his head away again and staring down at the floor. Anywhere but at Dean. "We've got beer, Sam," Dean pointed toward the table that sat against the wall. Sure enough, a 6-pack sat right on the tabletop. "If you want something to do, why don't you finish cleaning the weapons?" Dean suggested, pointing toward his bed where he had a large towel laid out with half of their arsenal laying on top, some of it in pieces and a couple of gun bore cleaners laying next to them.
"Oh, sure, no problem," Sam nodded numbly, his eyes sliding over to the small mess on Dean's bed. Shoulders hunched, Sam walked over to the bed and seated himself, gathering up the cleaning tools and picking up the .45 to begin with. It was the only one that hadn't been taken apart yet and also Dean's favorite gun. Sam dropped the cleaning tool he'd grasped in his hand and held up the pearl white-handled pistol and gazed at it. He heard the shower turn on, so perhaps Dean would never hear him. Turning it back and forth, Sam tilted his head gently in thought drawing his eyebrows in. Maybe, just maybe if he went behind the back of the motel Dean would never know. Dean didn't trust him and Sam didn't blame him. Sam half chuckled to himself. "Who trusts monsters anyway?" he asked himself softly. Sam stood up, making his way over to the only window in their room, tucking the .45 in the back of his jeans. He pulled back the curtain easily and peered outside. The rain had stopped and there didn't appear to be anybody outside. He tucked his still shower-damp hair behind his ears and let the curtain fall back.
Sam easily and carefully slid out of the motel room and shut the door quietly behind him. Dean was still in the shower. Dean would never know. He walked painstakingly, almost stealthy around the side of the motel and hid himself in some of the green, thick, leafy bushes that had grown outside of the side of the small building as a laughing, drunken couple swayed their way up to their motel room door. Sam peeked out from behind the bushes, waiting for the couple to close the door behind them for the night before he stood up again and quietly picked up the pace and moved behind the motel building. There were some bushes back there as well Sam felt would be the proper place to hide himself. He was killing a monster right? Perhaps the couple would be too drunk tonight to hear the gunshot. Perhaps the shower would be too loud for Dean to hear it as well. Sam stood in the bushes, pulling the gun from the back of his jeans and staring at it. At least it would save Dean from having to do this, right?
How had it gotten to this point? What had he done? How could allow himself to consort with a demon, to trust her so richly, to believe and hang on nearly every word she said, to continue to poison and contaminate himself with the demon blood knowing deep down inside what it would do to him, how it would change him, how it would make him unleash the ultimate evil on the entire world. Sam felt a sob build up in his throat, but he forced it back. Monsters don't cry. They shouldn't be allowed to, and Sam didn't let himself. He had no right. Not after everything he'd done. How could he use his own two hands and wrap them around his very own brother's throat? He nearly killed his his own flesh and blood, the only family he had left, the other man that he would die for in a heartbeat, that he had tried so hard to give his life for after Dean had been taken to Hell, after he'd buried his brother's shredded corpse. How had it honestly come to this? Sam had fought and tried so hard and truthfully, he had done all of this for his brother, and what had it gotten him? Armageddon, that's what.
Sam laughed harshly at himself before holding the gun up in front of his eyes. No, this was the right thing to do. Just ridding the planet of one more evil thing, one more monster. Sam slowly put the end of barrel of the .45 in his mouth, his eyes darting upward into the black sky that had somewhat cleared and some stars were visible, saying one last prayer of apology to God, to the angels that resented him and had looked at him as nothing but an abomination. Which in truth, he was. Uriel had been right to want to smite him. Now, he was doing what Dean had promised John he'd do, what the angels had wanted to do. Sam closed his eyes painfully, silently cursing himself for feeling sorry for himself. It was wrong. No monster should be allowed to feel sorry for themselves at all. He cocked the gun when he heard the gently spoken words "Sam, give me the gun." His hazel eyes flew open and darted toward where the voice had come from. It was Dean, standing there fully dressed and out of the shower. He hadn't even heard his older brother's footsteps approaching him, but now Dean was walking to stand in front of Sam and he crouched down to his younger brother, staring him full on the face. "C'mon now, Sam. You don't want to do this."
Sam stubbornly nodded his head at his older brother, never taking his eyes off Dean's. His eyebrows were drawing upward into an anguished expression as he stared into his face. "Let's talk about this, huh?" Dean spoke again, gruff but still gentle as he put a hand on top of Sam's and eased the barrel out of his little brother's mouth. "This isn't the way out, Sam." Sam's breath hitched, his eyes still piercing Dean's. "But Dean, I'm a monster. We hunt monsters. We kill monsters," the younger Winchester, sounding almost childlike, insisted as Dean carefully pulled his little brother to his feet. Sam couldn't see the regret that flickered through Dean's eyes at that word and he gently shook his head. "Sam, you're not a monster. Come on now, give me the gun. Let's talk about this."
"NO!" Sam found himself shouting out and jerking his hand, along with the gun, away from Dean's gentle grasp, his breath heaving. "No, Dean. You were right. You were right. I am. Look at what I did, Dean. That demon that was in Bobby? He was right. I brought on the end of the world. So many people are going to die now because of me. Bobby was wrong to not cut me out. He should get rid of me. Lucifer's searching for his vessel. Pretty soon there's going to be death and destruction all over this world, and it's all my fault. If I had listened to you. No, Dean. No. You were right. I'm a monster and we kill monsters. I thought maybe if I killed this monster it'd be easier for you so you wouldn't have to do it. Just let me do it, Dean. Please. It'd save you so much trouble. One less evil creature to cause even more death, more pain, more evil in the world. You were right Dean. I am. I am a monster. I'm not Sam anymore. I'm a monster, evil. I'm a vampire and you can't save me. So please, Dean, let me do this. Just...just...please," Sam pleaded and the desperation that shown in his eyes was almost paralyzing. Sam watched as Dean's expression changed from one that of concern and heartbreak to a look of confusion that filled his older brother's eyes as he tilted his head to stare hard at Sam for a moment.
"A vampire? Sam...I never referred to you as a vampire and I never once said that I couldn't save you," Dean told him, his brow furrowed, his stare never leaving his little brother's face. Confusion flickered momentarily across his own face before he shook his head. "Yes, yes you did Dean and you were right! I am a monster. I am evil and I need to be taken care of. I was going to do it for you so you wouldn't have to put up with the hassle of dealing with it yourself," Sam insisted, but Dean shook his own head in disbelief. "Sam...can you tell me when I ever called you a vampire?" he questioned his little brother in disbelief. Sam acquiesced and nodded his head obediently before removing his cellphone from the back of his jeans pocket. "I...it was in a voicemail you sent me. Remember?" the younger Winchester questioned, his expression swiftly changing to his beaten puppy look. "It-it was what drove me to kill that innocent woman, to kill Lilith because you were right. I am monster and monsters kill and monsters maim and cause death and destruction and spread evil and-," Sam was cut off by a harsh "SHHH!" from Dean.
He instantly pursed his lips as Dean took the phone from his little brother's hand. "Those damned angels," Sam heard him mutter under his own brother and Sam's brow furrowed. "Sam. Try listening to the voicemail again," Dean sighed rubbing a hand over his mouth and putting Sam's phone on speakerphone. He dialed his voicemail and the first message came up.
"Listen to me you blood-sucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam. A vampire. You're not you anymore and there's no going back."
Before either brother had time to say a word, the voicemail continued after a moment of a pause which was still Dean's voice.
"Hey, it's m-me. Uh, look I'll just get right to it. I'm still pissed and I owe you a serious beatdown, but...I shouldn't have said what I said. You know, I'm not Dad. We're brothers. Ya know, we're family. And no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. Sammy, I'm sorry."
Sam just stood stunned. He stared at his phone, his eyes unblinking. "Oh...," was all he could say and then brought his hands up to clutch at the sides of his head. "Oh God." The younger Winchester stood sputtering. "DAMNED ANGELS!" Dean yelled and Sam could see his older brother fighting back the rage to throw Sam's phone across the grass. "That was not me, Sam! The second part of that message? That one was me! I never have thought you were a monster. I never have thought you were a vampire, and I have certainly never ever wanted to kill you either. So please, Sam. Put the gun down. Please. You're still my brother. I don't want this for you. You shouldn't want this for you. Killing yourself isn't going to redeem yourself, Sam. If you want to redeem yourself, and I mean really want to redeem yourself after everything you've done, then you get out there and you fight. You fight until the last man, until the last demon if you have to. You help me search for a way to kill Lucifer, but coming out here and shooting yourself? That's just an easy way out."
Sam could feel his eyes beginning to tingle and burn and soon they were brimming with unshed tears, and he did everything he could to control himself, fight them back. Monsters don't cry he silently reminded himself. Sam dropped the gun to the ground with a soft thud and fell back against the motel wall, both hands in his damp hair. "I...if I had known...if only I had known that it wasn't really you," the younger Winchester stammered, his bottom lip trembling. "Why me?" he repeated softly, the same words he'd asked Ruby. He still didn't understand why this all had to revolve around him or why everything had to rest on him. Now he had the fate of the world, the apocalypse that he brought on laying on him. Despite all of it though, he had still acted in the way a monster would. A monster should. A freak would. Sam didn't see his brother retrieve the gun, turn the safety back on and slide it into his jacket. "Listen, let's get you back inside and get you some sleep for the night, okay? We're both exhausted and we'll handle the rest of this in the morning, talk about where we want to go from here, okay?" Sam didn't even bother responding, he dipped his head and just allowed Dean to grip his arm and walk him back to their motel room. As they made their way back inside, Sam didn't even bother changing his clothes, he just walked straight to his bed, kicked his boots off and laid down on top of the comforter, facing the wall and away from Dean.
All of these revelations tonight, everything that had happened within the past 24 hours was almost more than Sam could bear. He could feel the tears starting. They were burning his eyes and Sam did everything he could to hold them back, but the dam broke and floodgates burst. Even closing his eyes they still managed an escape, soaking his pillow underneath him. The sobs were building up in his chest now, working their way up to his tightened throat, and there was no fighting against those either. They made their appearance, one after another, and Sam released them as quietly as possible. He didn't want Dean to know. He didn't want Dean to hear either. Monsters don't cry, right? He clutched the sides of his pillow with both hands and buried his face deep inside of it, letting it all out as silently as possible when he felt the bed behind him dip with Dean's weight. He felt Dean's hand on his back rubbing gentle circles, just like he used to when he was a little boy. The love he used to feel, the warmth and comfort that it provided him when he was young now just only made Sam cry harder. He didn't deserve Dean's comfort.
"C'mon Sammy. Go to sleep. Things will be easier when you wake up," Dean told him gently, the comforting circular motion between his shoulder blades never ceasing. "I'm so sorry, Dean," Sam apologized between hitched breaths. Little did Dean know he was apologizing for everything. The lies, the sneaking off with Ruby, the demon blood, the fight in the hotel room, nearly killing Dean, killing the innocent woman, killing Lilith, releasing Lucifer, starting the apocalypse, his stunt tonight with the gun. Perhaps maybe Dean knew more than Sam assumed. "It's alright, just calm down. Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning," Dean told him. "Sleep, Sammy." Sam laid there and cried for a good long while, his tears never seeming to reach an end. Dean never stopping with the rubbing of Sam's back, sometimes even reaching over to brush long, damp hair out of Sam's eyes, until finally after what seemed like ages, they slowed and all eventually stopped, leaving nothing behind but soft sniffling and hitching breaths from the younger Winchester. Pretty soon the rubbing of his back was making him drowsy and before he knew it, Sam was drifting off into slumber, his last thoughts were maybe Dean was right. Maybe he wasn't a monster. Monsters don't cry, but human beings do.