Summary: Sometimes, no matter how old you are, you just want your dad - whether you know it or not. Sam Angst.

Note: Hi all! So I was going through some old documents and I found this story. I wrote it two years ago and I guess I forgot about it! This was written before season 7. I'm posting as I found it, all mistakes are mine!

Anyways I hope you like this little one shot, it's pretty angsty!

In-Between

He's in the dark place again. Between waking and sleeping (or in his case, horrible nightmares that are actually memories twisted and skewed and somehow worse than what actually happened).

Sam swallows, wiping at the remnants of tears on his face, attempting to calm himself so that he can wake up and get back to his brother. He's not sure what they were doing before he was pulled back into Hell memories, sleeping? Eating? Or, god forbid, in the middle of a hunt?

Nostrils flaring, he grips the back of his head with both hands, nails digging painfully into his skin as he tries to calm his frantic heart. Sam's not sure - but he thinks he hates this place the most. He's painfully aware in this expanse of blackness, can remember everything with awful clarity, from the first moment Lucifer jumped into his skin to the second Death forced his soul back through his chest.

When Sam's awake some of the memories are muted - some pushed forward, others blended into the background - so that he at least has a chance of dealing with the flashback without being overwhelmed. When he finds himself back in the cage or looking through his own soulless eyes there is only ever one of two emotions…pure agony or crushing guilt.

The in-between...the in-between is something horrifically different. Every single memory, every single feeling, action, thought - they are all just there. It's everything all at once -pushing down, choking him. Too much...

Letting out a sob, Sam wills himself to snap out of it- desperate to leave this place. "Dean…" He keens, low in his throat even as he folds in upon himself, smothered by too many emotions to name.

"Sam."

The voice startles him so badly that for one blissful second Sam forgets everything, eyes snapping open to not ever reaching blackness, but a starry night. His mouth drops open in shock when he sees his father crouching in front of him, concern etched on his older face.

"Dad?" He whispers, voice cracking, unable to believe what he's seeing.

"Hey kiddo." John says softly, laying a hand on his youngest sons trembling shoulder, "You're not looking so good."

Sam lets out a wordless cry, everything crashing down around him again - and he wants to pull away, knows he doesn't deserve this, his dad must be so disappointed in him…all the things he's done, soulless or not. He can't though - he tries but finds himself falling forward instead, melting into Johns chest as he jerks with silent sobs.

John smells like he always did - of whiskey and gun oil with a hint of aftershave. He's solid against Sam, but the younger Winchester knows it can't be real. "You…you're not…you can't be…" He trails off, barely able to form the words around numb lips.

John lets out a rumbling sigh from above, breath stirring Sam's hair as he says quietly, "I'm as real as you need me to be, Sammy."

There's nothing but the sound of crickets chirping in the wet grass for a few minutes, before Sam whispers, "M'sorry, you must hate me. All the things I've done…"

Johns arms tighten around him, pulling him impossibly closer. "I could never hate you, Sam. You've made mistakes, same as your brother and me. It's a part of life."

Sam laughs bitterly, muffled voice speaking against the worn shirt John wears, "I dunno if my choices can even be called mistakes." More like colossal fuck ups.

John sighs and pulls Sam up, forcing him to look him in the eye. "You can't keep doing this to yourself son, it's going to destroy you. You're my boy and I'm proud of you - always have been and always will be. If I could take away the pain you're going through…" John chokes, stopping abruptly.

The grip on his shoulders tighten, and Sam can feel the pain pouring off of his father as he clears his throat and continues, "I love you, Sammy - never forget that, okay? And I was wrong - what I said to Dean in that hospital right before I left you both - I was wrong. You're strong enough, Sam. You. Are. Strong. Enough."

Sam rests his forehead against his fathers, bangs falling into his closed eyes as he tries to take deep breaths. "I miss you, Dad." He mutters.

"Miss you too kiddo, you and your brother both. Keep taking care of each other, okay?"

Sam nods silently, blinking his eyes open when he feels his father press something against his palm. "Dad…" He starts, staring down at the familiar object in his hand. John gives him a crooked smile in response, squeezing Sam's shoulder one more time before everything fades away.

"Sam."

"Sammy."

"C'mon man, wake up - you've slept for way too long."

He hears the familiar voice before his eyes snap open. Gasping, Sam finds himself staring up into his big brothers concerned face. "Dean." He breathes, blinking rapidly.

"Yeah, you're okay Sammy - had another flashback, but we're at the motel, you're safe." Dean soothes, a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Sam blinks, shivering a little as he recalls the particular flashback that had pulled him under. "How long was I out for?" He croaks, throat dry and brittle - he winces inwardly, knows that he must've been screaming.

"'Bout twenty minutes - scared the hell outta me Sammy, that's longer than the last few times…you feeling okay?"

Dean's voice drifts towards him, and Sam frowns, brow creasing as he stares at the cracked ceiling…there was something…

Something between the flashback and waking up to his brother, he's not sure what but…Growling in frustration, Sam sits up, leaning against the flimsy headboard even as he ignores the sounds of his brothers protests to "Lay still a damn minute Sam."

Something digs into his clenched palm, and he's not sure how, but he knows what it is without opening up his hand. A voice whispers through his ears, and Sam wonders if it's a memory or imagined.

"Keep taking care of each other, okay?"

Sam swallows, fingers tightening around the amulet in his palm even as he rolls his eyes at his hovering brother. "I'm good Dean, really. I'm okay."

And for the first time in what seems like forever, Sam realizes that he really is.

End

So yeah, that's that! Were you able to follow it?

Cheers,

Ashley