I'm cold.

Not temperature wise, no.

Sammy tells me I'm cold.

Emotionally stunted, if you will.

What made him say this, you ask?

Well for the first time in four years Sam saw me cry.

Now don't get me wrong; I've cried. I just usually enjoy it in the confines of my shower, where the water easily drowned out the sound of my sobbing. I liked it better when no one could hear me, see me, do that awful thing people sometimes do and try to comfort me.

Like Sam.

My lord, when he saw that one tear slide down my cheek suddenly he was my knight in sun-bleached plaid because he swept me up into his arms before I could tell him absolutely not and forced me to stay there until I could tell him what was wrong.

Which would have been very simple, if I knew what was wrong.

I didn't know how to explain emotions I actively tried to ignore with every fiber of my 'cold' being.

...

I wanted to tell Sam to leave me alone, so I did, and when I scrambled out of his strong hold and gave us a ten foot distance from one another he just watched me with worried eyes.

"This isn't like you."

I gave him a fucking-duh look and shrugged my shoulders. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Only a small crinkle of the skin between my eyebrows gave him any indication that I was this close (about a millimeter) away from losing my shit entirely.

His hazel eyes assessed me with an astuteness that made me uncomfortable, so I turned away from him and faced the open doorway of my bedroom. The dim lighting outside my door illuminated half of the hallway before me and once more I was assaulted by the lonely sound of absolutely nothing that was ultimately my undoing.

"Come on, talk to me. We only got each other to get through this," Sam said softly.

I snorted.

"We both know you can't count on me," I argued.

Sam slammed his palms down on his thighs and I could see him moving from his spot on the edge of my bed.

"Stop it. Look I know you're not the...warmest person, that's something you've learned from Dean. You're both like two emotionally stunted children! And I get it, he was your best friend. Then he died. He was my brother. I loved-love him, too. We gotta use each other to work through this. We won't survive this if we don't," Sammy said.

From the sound of his voice he was standing right behind me so I turned to face him.

I opened my mouth again, but once more nothing but a pitiful squeak came out as my whole face crumpled in on itself and I shuddered from the strength of my tears as they began to practically pour from my eyes in the most hideous ugly-cry of the century.

It was beyond embarrassing, but Sam's wide eyes stayed trained on me like he was afraid to miss a moment of my scary breakdown.

"He's gonna come for me, Sam. You heard him. You heard him. He won't stop, not as a demon," I whispered.

Sam's shoulders fell as he came towards me, his warm hands closing over the tender skin of my shoulders.

"Is that why you're crying? You're scared? I won't let him get to you, okay?"

His promise fell onto deaf ears as I shook my head and wrapped my tiny fingers around the lapels of his plaid shirt.

"You and I both know that won't work Sammy. I'll be the bait and you'll be the fisherman, and Dean? He's gonna have to be the biggest catch of our lives because you know that we can't lose him."

I didn't bother mentioning what we already knew; that I was too attached, that they were my only family.

That I slept in Dean's bed some nights, curling into his soft t-shirt sheets like his arms would come from beneath the mattress and hold me.

That I played his favorite Led Zeppelin CD when I made dinner every Friday.

That I still washed his laundry (even though he hadn't been home in months to wear it) every Wednesday when I did the rest of my bunker chores.

Or, apparently, that I was terrified of the Dean that was now a demon and no longer the missing puzzle piece we mourned for.

Sam's gaze swept around the room before he held his hands out in surrender or maybe irritation.

"I didn't know, okay? You can turn it off with the flick of a switch! I had no idea this was affecting you this much," Sam admitted. I winced and nodded my head.

"I know."

"You're like a damn brick wall, and that reminds me of Dean so often, it's scary. There's no readin' you! I just-why didn't you tell me? Huh? I don't want to think about you crying in here all alone, but that's exactly what you've been doing, isn't it?," Sam accused.

"No."

"Don't bother lying. This is the most expressive your face has been in months," Sam spat.

I caved in on myself and leaned forward, hands on my knees, to try and catch my breath. Apparently my capacity for acting like a brick wall was fading fast and it felt like every brick from said wall was caught in my chest and actively trying to suffocate me.

"You saw the look in his eyes today, Sam. He meant what he said. Dean is still in there somewhere! Are you sayin' you don't believe he wants to kill me?," I asked calmly.

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, shaking my head to try and clear it.

His face pulled up into a smile as he placed his hands on his hips and chuckled mirthlessly. Shaking his head, his gaze pierced right through me.

"And there it is. The cold facade. You've got it down to a science don't you, the way you shut down? The way you shut people out? Why can't you just let me in!"

I stood slowly, running a hand through my haphazard hair and ignored the consistent tremor in my bottom lip.

"You said it yourself, I'm cold. I'm frigid. I'm the god-damned ice queen, Sammy! Isn' it easier that way? To not get attached? Like Dean always says, we ain't gonna live long anyways!," I said hotly.

Sam rolled his eyes and dropped his hands to his sides, his plaid shirt practically falling off of one shoulder. His pristine white t-shirt drew my attention when I realized he was breathing shallower than I was.

"Shit, Sam. Please don't-you aren't gonna cry, are you?," I asked.

I took a step towards him and when he held out his large hands as if to ward me off I shook my head and threaded our fingers together.

"I hear you, and I'm sorry."

His hazel eyes reluctantly met mine and I hung my head.

That's when it hit me, the reason I was so afraid.

"If he takes you too, I'm fucked. I won't have anyone, Sam. Believe me when I tell you that unlike Dean I can be alone. I could go on and live my life without you,-"

"Gee, thanks-"

"I just don't want to," I said, interrupting Sam before he could get his boxers in a twist.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased and he stood up straighter, pulling me closer to him by our intertwined fingers.

"You're so damn stubborn," He muttered.

I quirked a half-smile.

"I know."

"Why can't you ever just tell me these things? It's nice to hear, ya know, that you aren't a complete ice statue," Sam said with a lilt of teasing in his voice.

I snorted.

"You're a dude. We're like two dudes."

He dropped my hands and shook his head before his hazel eyes slid up the length of my body and stopped when they met my eyes.

"Believe me when I tell you, you're the farthest thing from a 'dude' I've ever seen."