Soul and Mind

The man who knew too much~ (or not enough)

Lucifer suddlenly banished into thin air, the nails digging into Sam's flesh disappearing, leaving only phsycological painful scars in his jaw as evidence there had been anyone there at all — at least from Sam's prespective.

Sam didn't have to look around to find the new voice to the party, as he was already standing in front of Sam, his short posture looking up and studying Sam, hands inside the pockets of his jeans and holding himself uncaressly, yet with confidence.

Sam's cursed part of the brain connected quickly who this man was, and had Sam subsconciously uttering out a particular name in disbelief, relief and longness:

"Gabe."

"Leave him, Dean. Let him take a breath, he looks like he needs it."

Dean swallowed thickly and stilled, his whole being eager and urging to follow his little brother out and make sure he's alright. To be there for him.

"Dean," Bobby repeated. "The last thing he looks like he needs is to feel too watched over."

"No Bobby, what he needs is to be watched over, for someone to be there for him! So he doesn't feel alone!" Dean exasperated.

"He's not mentally stable, dammit. He needs to be watched over." John muttered.

Bobby couldn't pretend to understand just what Sam was going through, but he knew that overwhelming that kid more than he already was the last thing Sam needed, "Whatever that kid has going on in his mind, the last thing he needs is to feel an overbearing presence with every move he makes! I'm not saying don't watch him, all I'm saying is to give him space and give him some alone time to get his thoughts together or he'll get overwhelmed with your extra presence, ya' idgits! You can watch him from here through the damn window, it's there for a reason."

John and Dean stayed quiet, not saying they completly agreed with Bobby, but seeing his point. They both looked through the window and it ate each one of them to not be able to intervene when they saw Sam looking terrified and nearly in tears, holding jaw up and gritting his teeth in pain.

"Damn, Bobby." John sighed, running a hand tiredly through his face.

"So, the future, huh? Balls, I hate to see he doesn't have it good." Bobby lamented.

And just where the hell was I? I would never let Sammy go through any kind of hell if I had anything to say about it. Dean thought sorrowfully, sitting down on a chair dejectedly. I will make this better, I promise, Sammy.

Everyone was lost in their own thoughts for a few minutes, and then Dean looked up through the window, almost subconsciously, wanting—needing—to see his little brother, to keep him in sight. Suddenly Dean stood up, almost tipping the chair over in such a rush, and as the two older hunters snapped their heads up to look at Dean, the boy exclaimed in absolute panic and dread, "Sammy! Shit!" as he already made his way to the glass door.

John and Bobby whipped their heads to the window as they stood up, and saw Sam laying unconscious on the ground, blood trailing down his nose. They ran out the door full of alarm and fear for their youngest, and saw Dean already by Sam's side, frantically trying to get him to respond.

"IS HE BREATHING?"

"Hold a...um... yeah, YEAH, HE IS! ALTHOUGH HIS PULSE IS ELEVATED!"

"Good, okay, good. WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Dean cried in fright and alarm.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW? IS HE HURT?!"

"HOW 'BOUT YER TWO IDJITS STOP BICKERING AND ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING HELPFUL FOR THAT BOY."