mad_muses: Can’t get it out of my head

Down the road, not across the street...

Ever since Dean had tried to help him up from that table and he had passed out, Sam saw the world in moments of nauseous green and black moments. He knew he was in the backseat of the Impala, his arms bound up and... handing off the passenger seat? Why... oh yeah, above the heart keeps from bleeding out. Dad taught him that when he was six and cut his hand on the hunting knife.

Hold it up, Sammy. Keep pressure on it Dean. We're almost to the hospital.

Hospital. Adam's mom was a nurse. Adam... his brother. Half Brother. Dead. Why did his family always die on him?

He was Dean's little brother. Sam had always wanted a little brother of his own, someone to look up to him and teach and protect like Dean always did for him. And there had been one all along. Sam had done the math. He was eight when Adam was born. Eight. Just learning about the hunting world and once a year while Dean and Sam sat alone in motel rooms worried on if he would ever come back.

Sam hated knowing that Dad held this kid above him and Dean. Why did Adam get to be free of this life, but he and Dean had to fight in it? Why did he want Adam to get the white picket fence when it was all Sam wanted.

( . . . )