Help Me, Sam

“Hi, Sam,” you say as he opens the motel door.

His eyes widen at first, then soften at the sight of you. “[Y/N],” he says.

You smile meekly; this wasn’t the reception you had hoped for. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The way he stares at you is a little unnerving. It’s as if he’s taking you in for the very first time. His Adam’s Apple plunges as he clears his throat. “Is this... Is this business? Or..”

You shake your head. A nervous smile plays on your lips and for the first time since you left your mortality behind, you tremble with uncertainty. “It’s not business. Not that kind of business, I mean.”

For a few moments, he says nothing; then he tilts his head and says too quietly for your peace of mind, “What other business are you into?”

You shake your head and a laugh slips out. “No, it’s... I just...” You glance around. The motel is set just off the main road that runs through this small town, and at just after eight in the morning cars drive by one after another, and kids are walking down the sidewalk toward the school across the street. When you look back at him, he’s still trying to figure out what you’re doing here. “Can I come in?”

He hesitates for a fraction of a moment, but you notice. He blinks and steps aside. “Sure,” he says and shuts the door behind you as you step to the center of the room. “Uh... Dean’s not here.”

Even though you had come to see Sam, those words jab at you. “It’s alright. I didn’t come to see him.” Your eyes dart to the corner of the room where Dean always drops his bag. It’s empty.

He runs a hand through his hair and motions for you to sit on the edge of the bed. “Can I get you something? I’ve got... beer and water. And Cheetos.”

“No,” you smile. “No, thanks.”

Sam is acting strangely. Off. He’s uncharacteristically quiet. And Cheetos? He’s not comfortable around you like he was before. He grabs a bottle of water for himself and cracks the seal as he spins the cap off, and takes a swig. “I’m sorry, I’m just... trying to figure out what kind of business you’re involved in to show up here after... after so long.”

So long?? “I... What do you mean?”

“[Y/N], we haven’t seen you in two years.”

You gulp. Shit. How long had you been out? Billie didn’t actually say.

“You did know that, right?” Sam says, the creases deepening in the center of his forehead.

You don’t know what to say. I tried to kill Amara just doesn’t seem like the right way to go at the moment.

“Billie’s been... She’s come by once or twice since...” He runs his hand down over his mouth. “She said you... We didn’t think you made it.”

Oh. That would explain the seen-a-ghost look. “Well... I did.” Your face burns and you want so badly to ask him exactly what Billie said, but it’s so hard to form the words.

“Where’ve you been?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Sleeping it off, I guess.” A weak laugh slips out, and before you realize it, you’re staring off into space... or: the floor. You break your stare and look at him. “I was hoping - I came to... I need your help.”

“What’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not in trouble. It’s just... I can’t do this, Sam.”

“What do you mean? Do what?”

"Death. I can’t, not anymore.” Tears bottle up at the corners of your eyes; you’re trying desperately to hold them at bay.

Sam looks at you like he expected you to say just that. “You’re doing a great job; Billie said so.”

"No,” you say with a deep breath to steady your voice. “I mean... I can’t spend eternity without...” You aren’t sure if you should say it. No one knows the fear you hide for the mere thought of an infinite number of days, no one except Billie. You search Sam’s face for any hint of understanding, but he shows none. Another deep breath. “I can’t spend eternity without him.”

An awkward silence hangs thick in the air between you. After a moment, the creases disappear from his forehead and he breaks eye contact, turning around to place his bottle on the table. When he turns back to you, his expression is full of something that looks a hell of a lot like pity. “Where is this coming from?”

You can’t stand sitting anymore. You stand up and pace to the opposite side of the room. “I thought I could do it. I thought I could get over him. I thought I could leave all of this crap behind and change. But it never happened, and Billie doesn’t think it ever will. And...” You nod your head to the side. “One day, he - you’re both going to be gone. And you’re going to cross through the Gates and I won’t be able to visit you or ever see you again... Ever.”

He doesn’t say a word for an agonizingly long time. You know death is something he’s thought about plenty of times - hell, he’s been-there-done-that before. And the endgame - he’s thought about that enough, and as you wait for his response, you wring your hands together in front of your stomach. Has he ever considered that when that time comes, you’ll be left behind? Why should he? He’s been through so much...

Finally, he clears his throat. “How can I... What do you want from me?”

Then you see it; that look in his eyes. You completely missed it until just now. Something’s happened since you’ve been gone. Something big. Sam’s confidence is hanging on by a thread; his soul is tired. You glance back to the empty corner. “Where is Dean?”