ohsam | Scratch

Title: Scratch
Author:

twilightshours
Rating/Warnings: PG 13 - for language, mostly. And angst.
Characters: Sam, Dean
Word count: 908
Summary: Dean doesn't want Sam remembering.
Spoilers: S6 - 6x11
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Author's Note: Just a drabble after watching the newest episode. It doesn't make much sense and it doesn't go anywhere, so beware.

It starts and ends so fast, like one long blur full of fists and concrete. Dean's not really sure when it hits. He feels loads of guilt for that, for not noticing when Sam went from talking to talking. But what happened happened, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

They both do.

Dean looks back now, and still can't remember the exact phrase that was different. It was something like "What happened to him?" Which, okay, out of context it could have been anything, but that was the point, it was out of context and Dean doesn't even remember what they had been talking about but it definitely wasn't about what Sam was talking about and oh, Christ. His world is falling all around him.

Because Sam had been asking about... himself.

Before he got his soul back.

And maybe Sam can restrain himself, but since that point, he hasn't shut up. Dean hadn't noticed it before, but he sees now; even though Sam's been pretty vocal since he got out, he hasn't been this vocal.

It's like some part in his brain just clicked, and he started remembering things.

Starts—

"Dean, Dean," Sam laughs almost uncontrollably, "you were like a baby daddy. Like a seahorse. You were, you were," he snorts.

"What, Sam?" Dean stares at him incredulously. He's already slowing down the Impala. It's bright as hell outside, but apparently shit likes to go down in the daytime now, because Dean's stomach is already dropping and he's thinking no, no, no. Not already.

Sam seems to pick up on this somehow, because he stops his giggling.

"Already— Dean, do you remember... what..." He looks a little confused at first, like he hadn't been the one laughing about seahorses. Then he turns on again like a switch.

"Seahorses, Dean. We were— seahorses, catfish, dogs... dogs. People. I... Dean?" It's just little stuff at first, vague questions that not even Sam understands and Dean just brushes off like where is he now and can we not talk about this subject, but now, now he's actually remembering things from the time his soul was in Hell and his body was up top. Sam looks at him with those puppy eyes, the ones pleading him to tell him what's going on, why does my head hurt Dean? because now he's clutching at it, face screwed up in pain, like it's another vision and Dean's thinking two months, two months and it's already falling apart. Goddamn it.

And then he thinks maybe not. Maybe not, because maybe this is the wall. Sam needs to substitute that lost time with something so his freaky brain conjures up the memories from what his body was doing for a year. He'll come up with some gruesome accounts eventually, but nothing will be near as bad as his real memories, right? Like laying down another layer of concrete. Right?

But when he pulls over, when he lets Sam talk, it gets to him, too. So as Sam begins a monologue of "Vampires, Dean, getting the alpha and he wanted me and we were... trying to get into their nest, and Dean I—" Dean punches Sam just below the temple and knocks him out cold. Because he doesn't need to hear it, and Sam doesn't need to remember it, and this isn't that Sam and oh God what did I do, am I going to just be some abusive short-tempered dick that uses violence to get his way? and that wasn't exactly the point but when Dean freaks out, he freaks out about everything, even Sam and even himself.

Dean checks them into a motel before Sam reawakens. They both manage to stay quiet until they get in the room, and then Sam opens up again like a rigged music box. His tangent is symmetrical and that's what sets Dean off a second time. (Second, right?)

"Oh God, Bobby, I hope to God he's okay, is he okay Dean? Jesus Christ Dean I almost killed him, I had wanted to kill him, because I... Dean, the things I did, I wasn't even human, what was wrong with me? What's wrong with me? I can't even feel for a kid being tortured, I can't even feel for a family being murdered by djinn, and what does that make me? Dean?" (He's trying to shush him and calm him down this whole time but Sam talks right over him.) "Dean? Did I find a demon's bones? Did he tear you away from Lisa? Did you kill him? Did— oh— oh my God, I killed Bobby! Holy shit, is he okay? Holy—"

And Dean knocks him out again.

He goes into the bathroom and washes his hands. While he scrubs furiously, his face adopts a sour expression. He stares at the wide-eyed, scared shitless man in front of him. He's holding a single finger out to plug the dam, but the pressure is overwhelming.

He can't scratch at the wall. Death told him that if he did, it'd come tumbling down and Sam was as good as gone.

Sam isn't scratching— he built the damn wall and now he's climbing over it.

Dean walks out, sits on the bed across from his passed out little brother.

The next time Sam wakes up, he might already be on the other side of the wall, and he might not be able to climb back over.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Thanks! I had actually expected to write a happier ending when I started, but it never seems to work out. :)

Sam totally will! "If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off." And in this case, the gun is the wall. ~~I can't wait for it to go off heehee~~~

Oh I love that quote! ~~OMG ME TOO!~~

Scratch

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