A/N: Okay, so this is a tag to DSOTM, yet another amulet-story. I've tried to stay clear of them, think I've read one, maybe two and although they were really, really good they all came down to Sam getting sentimental and desperate. I don't see that, not with the following episodes and how Sam developed during this season.

There is a second part to this which will be posted as soon as it is finished (either this night or tomorrow night).

Let me know what you think about this, I'd love to have some feedback.

Awesome speed-beta by Ghost. Thanks a LOT for everything! *hugs* And I am sorry for making you mad at him. I really am. I guess. Hehehe… ;)

Simple Past

By Mikiya

I've lied to you
The same way that I always do
This is the last smile
That I'll fake for the sake of being with you

Linkin Park, "Pushing me away"

No.

No.

NO!

No fucking way.

This is NOT how this is going to end. You are not walking out on me—on us—like this, Dean, I won't allow it.

I screwed up. I screwed up, okay? I don't know how, I don't know why you're blaming me for what we saw up there, but I get it, you're mad at me.

And you know what? Screw you!

It wasn't my fault, not this time! I couldn't control that stuff anymore than you could. They—Zach, the angels, whoever— were playing with our heads. Again. How can you not see that?

Yeah, those were my memories and yes, I was happy in them. I was having a good time, a really, really good time. I was happy to have Bones, even for a few days, it was a great Thanksgiving I had with the other family, and I was so glad to get away from Dad and start my own life that night.

Was. Simple Past. Used for actions beginning and ending in the past. Completed actions, like not relevant anymore.

That's not who I am now— I've changed. Grown up. Left all that stuff behind me and started a new life. A life that includes you, dickhead. It revolves around you in a way that should probably make me feel uncomfortable or dependent.

Which it does.

Sometimes.

But I don't care, this is what I want, this is what I choose. I left you behind a long time ago, but now… Right now I'm here, Dean, right next to you, trying to make up for a lot of wrongs I've done in my life. And I'm not talking about starting this end-of-the-world-nightmare.

Do you even know what makes me happy today? What is important for me now? Bet you never think about that, huh? Not that I'm blaming you or anything…

Well, not much anyway.

Whatever.

So, you're walking out on me, after everything; after all the shit we've been through? So not going to happen, Dean.

… and you're losing faith, in yourself, your brother…

In heaven, when Joshua said that… there was this moment where I wished he would have just hit me or stuck one of those angel-killing swords in me, 'cause that couldn't have hurt worse than those words. I know they're true, I know this is what you think, what you feel. And man, it hurts. You're really losing faith in me, in us. Team Free Will doesn't mean much to you anymore. I know that and I try not to be angry at you for that, I really do.

But I'm still here and I'm not leaving, not this time. I'm not losing faith, not in you, Dean, not ever in you.

I know you're waiting outside, I can see the car from where I'm still standing in the middle of the room. I know you know I've seen you toss your amulet into the trashcan. You are giving up on it, on us, on everything. I get that.

And, fuck, YES it hurts, more than I can say.

But I know how to stop it. I know how to make a step in the right direction, I know how to make you see. Maybe not believe me… or believe in me, but you'll see.

It's been a while since I've touched the damned thing and as soon as I fish it out of the trash the familiar weight of it has me flashing back to how I sat staring at it for hours before I could work up enough courage to take it off of you and place it around my neck. I didn't want to take it from you before I buried yo—your body, but I just couldn't leave it with you in that cold gr-grav—earth.

I gave it back to you the night you came back to life… back to me, and I never ever wanted to see it anywhere but around your neck. And then you let Cas take it away to search for God. Well, we all know now how that played out, huh?

So, maybe it really is worthless as a God-EMF, maybe it doesn't burn in the presence of the Lord. It probably isn't worth more than the 3.75 I saved from my pocket money and made Bobby take in exchange for it. But it still means something.

It means everything. Everything.

To me.

I step out of the room, close the door behind me and there you are, leaning against the Impala's side, face turned up into the sunlight. As if you didn't just turn your back on everything, as if you didn't just basically disown our childhood—

As if you didn't just leave me in a way I would never have been able to leave you.

Breathe, Sam, suck it up, burry it, don't let it out.

You don't look at me when I drag my duffel to the trunk, and when I slam it shut you're already behind the wheel. Avoiding me. You're not dealing with me, with what I might have to say about everything, you simply turn your back on me, shutting me out. Been there, done that, it never helps.

Fine.

Have it your way then.

But I'm not letting you out of this that easily, not this time.

I take a deep breath and get into the car. Before I can say anything—not that I would, mind you—the music's turned on and that's as good as any 'Shut up, Sam' you could growl at me. I don't care, driver picks the music, this shotgun shuts his cakehole, copy that.

It's not like I need to be able to say anything for this.

I wait until we're on the highway, until I feel your attention is no longer solely focused on the road. When I can see you relax a little into your seat I make my move: I open the glove box and then my right hand, making sure you glance over at least once, that you realize just what I am holding. I don't need to look at you to see you tense when you finally do see it. I have to fight not to let my lips widen into the satisfied grin that wants to spread across my face when I put the amulet into the glove box and then close it.

No fucking way is this the last you've heard of this, Dean. I'm not giving up on us, on you. Not ever.