I can't lie— Some exaggeration might be at play here. Still, lately, I have felt like Sam Winchester has been constantly left to his own devices. It's more than a little upsetting — I love Sam so much — so... This is what happened when I started thinking about it at midnight.

I used to have a beta reader, but I no longer have one. If anyone sees any noteworthy mistakes, please let me know! And if you know of anyone who edits, please send me in their direction!

Thanks for reading! I appreciate you.

Alone.

The word wrapped itself around Sam's lungs, squeezing tight. For a second, he forgot about the shuddering door behind him. It took it nearly opening for him to jump back to it. With a strained wheeze, he straightened up, forcing himself through it as he pressed as much of his weight against it as he could.

Looking forward, he took note of Cas and Dean. They were faced away from him, quietly talking to each other about things Sam couldn't hear. He knew it couldn't have been their intention — right? — but he felt like he was being shunned. He'd called out several times, telling them to hurry because he wasn't sure if he was strong enough. They never responded. It was as if his presence didn't matter, even though he was the one keeping the danger locked away.

Couldn't they see that it was taking too much from him? Couldn't they see that he was falling apart? Why didn't they care?

When Cas and Dean were in the midst of their fight, it had been hard. Really fucking hard. Both of them distanced themselves, leaving Sam to pick up every single piece they dropped.

Cas left without telling him, then preceded to ignore every single one of his texts. He worried every night. He barely slept and when he did, he dreamt about all the things that could've gone wrong. One night, it had gotten so overwhelming that he called. He was in a panic and everything, but he still never heard back. Cas probably never even listened to his voicemail. Sam didn't think he was still capable of feeling heartbreak, but Cas reminded him that yeah, he definitely was.

And Dean— Dean acted like he hadn't known Cas left. All that time, he'd been the one that pushed him out, meaning he'd repeatedly lied straight to Sam's face. Maybe that was why he locked himself in his room, only coming out to use the bathroom or grab another six-pack. Maybe he felt guilty. Or maybe he knew Sam was drowning, and he didn't want to deal with that mess again.

When Sam tried to reach out, Dean always tossed him aside. It hurt; his brother didn't seem to care. When he brought up missions, Dean told him to go on his own every time. While he was out, he at least expected his sibling to keep up with him. Make sure he was okay and all that.

Much like Cas, all he received was radio silence.

As much their actions pained him, Sam told himself that being angry at them would just be selfish. After all, they were grieving. They were hurting. If distance was what they needed, then they had the right to take a few steps back. He constantly reminded himself that it wasn't his fight — wasn't his place — but that never made the sudden isolation any easier.

And then, just like that, they made up. Sam had never been so relieved in his life. Finally, they had each other again. Things could go back to normal. They could be on the same team together and bring Chuck and everyone else down.

It never happened.

A few things fell back into place, but it wasn't the same. Not at all. Sam didn't know if Cas and Dean realized it, but they became a team again without him. They made decisions on their own, not alerting Sam to them until they were over. When Sam walked into a room, they would quiet down, blocking him from whatever conversation they were having.

He didn't understand why they were suddenly so keen on blocking him out. What had he done for them to do that? How could he possibly fix it when he didn't understand why?

His arms were shaking. His body was covered in sweat. He still hadn't caught up on his breathing. His exertion wasn't anywhere near silent, but no one took notice. Not even when it became too much.

The doors were open before Sam even hit the ground. His vision went in and out, stopping him from keeping up. When he finally got his head together, the hellhounds were simply gone. Sam didn't know how. All that was left was Cas and Dean, who were hovering over a quiet, but awake Jack.

For a moment, all Sam did was stare at the kid he considered his. Nowadays, even Jack didn't talk to him. The nephilim had always been closer with Cas, but his new bond with Dean had thrown Sam for a spin. It wasn't that the Winchester minded it was there — he was incredibly thankful that the two were now getting along — but he didn't expect it to replace his. The only time Jack talked to him now was when he reached out, and even then, the kid never told him much. He used to tell Sam everything.

Using one of the benches, Sam slowly got himself to stand. Pain radiated through his back, and it almost sent him back down. He knew in the morning, it would look like hell. Normally, he would've asked Cas to help him out, but… things weren't normal. Not anymore.

Selfishly, as he stood there slightly swaying on his feet, he hoped one of them would turn their head. He prayed for a quiet "You alright, Sammy?" from Dean or one of Cas's signature concerned looks that made him feel loved and important.

Neither of them moved to face him. Not even for a second.

They were having a moment together, and that moment did not include Sam Winchester.

His eyes burned as he watched his family reconcile without him. He actually managed a small, pained smile because at least they were okay. Maybe he wasn't theirs anymore, but that wasn't what was important. All that mattered was that they were safe and alive.

Not his place with them, and certainly not his dumb, selfish feelings.

"I'll get the car running. Make sure it's warm." His words were barely audible, but it earned him a small wave of dismissal from Dean. It was as much as he was going to get and fuck, why couldn't it have been enough? "Meet you out there." His lips began to tremble just as he turned away, his legs barely able to handle his weight as he walked towards the open doors.

Just like the anxiety, the nightmares, the insomnia— Sam would have to learn to live with… whatever this was. What other choice did he have? If he stopped fighting, everyone would go down. He couldn't do that to them. Even if they weren't interested in him, he still loved them. So much. They were forever his people, no matter how they saw him.

When they began their ride home, Sam pretended to sleep. He didn't want to face the nightmares, nor did he want Dean, Cas, or Jack to think they had to talk to him. Eventually, even that became too much, and he found himself dozing against the passenger window.

…

And that was when Dean finally noticed him. Concern swept over his features and it nearly choked him, but the last thing he wanted to do was wake his sleeping brother… so he didn't say a thing.