Disclaimer: I used to own supernatural, the boys, the Impala and everything else on the show. But then, the men in white gave me my meds and I had to take them.

Summary: Sam couldn't sleep anymore. So during the long hours of the night he had no option but to think about his soulless situation. Spoilers for season 6.

A/N: How Sam feels about being soulless. Is there an oxymoron in there somewhere?

Randy Gardner held the world record for not sleeping and Sam had him beat by several months. Wonder if there was any quick dollar to be made there, Sam thought. Sitting alone in the night when the rest of the world slept, crazy ideas like this often passed through Sam's head. He wondered if he could convince Dean to make a quick buck out of it. After all, it wasn't like they'd find out that he was soulless on any of the medical scans. He'd bring it up with Dean tomorrow, since he wasn't likely to be very receptive right now. After a rough hunt which had left Dean with a few bruises, he was passed out on the bed with a liberal dose of painkillers and a side helping of whiskey and Sam was free to think about whatever he wanted. Perks of being soulless.

It was odd that he hadn't discovered it before. Sam was a very good hunter, he knew that. And he had been almost constantly surrounded by the very best for the whole year. And Dean, well, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the toolbox. Everyone said so, even Dad and Bobby. So it was oddly disquieting for him to have been the reason they had discovered everything- Sam's missing soul, Christian's possession, Samuel's treachery and Crowley's master plan, while for the whole year no one had noticed anything amiss. On the other hand, Dean had always been a better hunter than he had ever been given credit for and the fact that everyone always under-estimated him had more than once resulted in him coming out at the top. After all Dean had been the sole reason why Heaven and Hell's plans had come to naught, why Castiel had betrayed his brothers and Sam had overpowered Lucifer. If they were going to overturn Crowley's plans, they needed Dean and that was why Sam wanted him around. Well, that and to get his soul back, but that was a thing he hardly ever missed.

He didn't actually miss his soul. Hadn't missed it for the whole year. When he had returned topside, he had made his way to Dean more out of a force of habit than any real desire to see his brother again. He hadn't known what he would feel when he saw Dean again. Relief to see Dean was safe and hadn't done anything to screw up his sacrifice? Gratitude for saving Sam? Happiness and love at seeing his brother again? Or perhaps jealousy at seeing Dean move on so easily after his death? But he had felt none of the above. He had felt nothing at seeing Dean have dinner with his new family, even though Dean's pain was evident to him even from outside the window. What was more, he hadn't even felt horrified at himself for not feeling anything. And he had always been so concerned about feeling the right thing. Well, if hadn't even been concerned that had to mean that it was the right reaction- feeling nothing. It was natural.

Like with animals. In the animal kingdom, the parents didn't cling to their children the whole life long. When their young were young, the parents fed them, took care of them, protected them, but that was because it was the biological imperative to take care of your progeny. Once the kids could take care of themselves, the parents didn't spend their time being over-protective, they went on with their own lives and let their children forge their own path. There was no love lost between them. This was the same case. He had finally outgrown Dean and there was no reason for either to miss the other unnecessarily. They both had their lives to lead. Dean had served his purpose in Sam's life. He had taken care of Sam, helped him grow up and protected him from his destiny. Now that long and painful chapter of his life was over and it was a time for a new beginning - a new family, a new purpose and a new Sam. A better Sam.

He had been so much better at being himself the past year. He had never felt so free, so comfortable being himself. All his burdens had disappeared. He realized now that even if he couldn't feel emotions, he did have the memory of them. And his memories had told him over the year that he was better off not feeling. He could remember the anguish he had felt while doing the hard thing, the self-doubt he had experienced while making a choice and the guilt when it turned out to be the wrong one. All his suffering had been elevated and he hadn't been too eager to find out why. Besides, even if he couldn't feel the emotions, he felt the sensations well enough. Not just physical sensations but mental ones as well. He still felt the rush of adrenalin during the chase. He felt fear for his life. He felt frustration when things didn't go his way. He felt the accomplishment at things well done. He even understood humor. He knew now that all these were sensations and not emotions, but they had mimicked them well enough over the past year. That was why he hadn't missed his soul, because the only emotions his soul had brought him over the years were pain and suffering.

Things had been so much simpler then. Everything had been reduced to basic math, cause and effect, action and reaction. He found something funny and he laughed. He felt horny and he had sex. He knew how to hunt so he hunted. If he felt tired, he lay down, because you could rest without sleeping. When he needed something he took it. When he thought that truth might end up getting him hurt, he lied. He had ascribed his new approach to life, his new outlook to being mature, an adult and it had worked. Everything had been fine, nearly perfect, until Dean came along.

To be fair, even before Dean had come along, Sam had been aware that something was different. He knew that he was colder, more ruthless that he had been previously, but he had assumed that to be the result of a crappy life and a crappier time in hell. Besides, it wasn't like this was a bad thing, he would have felt it if it had been. Even then an odd disquiet had persisted, as if he was missing something. But he had never felt as if he had been missing something important. It was liked, he had forgotten something in one of the motels that he couldn't put his finger on, perhaps a weapon or an old sweatshirt, but not something vital .Nothing to drive back two states for. Nothing that couldn't be replaced. At first he had thought that he was missing Dean, so he had replaced him with Campbells. They served the purpose well enough. They provided adequate backup. They were knowledgeable about the supernatural world. And they counted on Sam. In some ways they were even better than Dean. But still he had felt that something was missing. Like when they were sitting were sitting together, sharing beers and bouncing ideas off each-other, Sam had felt that something wasn't quite right. And when the Djinn attack had happened, Sam had convinced himself that it was Dean. All this hadn't felt right because he was so used to Dean's presence by his side. It was liking going back to an old motel and finding your old hoodie where you'd left it, finding out that it still fit better than any you'd had ever since. So Sam had tried to get Dean back. And when Dean had refused, he had cajoled and manipulated him into joining him for one more hunt. And when Dean had finally given up on Lisa and their normal life, Sam had felt a sense of victory because he had gotten what he wanted.

As it turned out later, it hadn't been Dean after all. Being with Dean felt no different than being with Campbells, although it was a tad more frustrating. With the Campbells he only had to put up a simple front. When you met after a long time, you smiled, shook hands and gave a one-handed hug. If you'd had a disagreement, you greeted with a cooled head-nod. While hanging out, you traded insults, stories and possible hunts. But with Dean, it had been much more complicated. He'd had to act like the old Sam every single moment, even when he hadn't felt like it, because when he slipped up, Dean looked suspiciously at him and it wasn't at all like it was supposed to be. In a way, it had been a relief when Dean had discovered that he wasn't the old Sammy anymore.

Even after the revelation that his soul was missing, Sam hadn't felt any desire to get it back. Sure, he'd prefer not being Crowley's puppet, but otherwise he wasn't missing much without his soul, was he?

As if in reply to Sam's question, Dean groaned and turned over in his sleep, his covers falling down to the floor. As if on auto-pilot, Sam got up and put the covers around Dean again, tucking them in under his chin. This used to feel different, Sam realized. It used to feel more. As soon as Dean had walked back into his life, all his cleverly constructed rationalizations had started falling apart. It was Dean who he had missed all this time, Sam realized. He had missed the way he felt around Dean.

A few days ago, they had been on the road for the whole day, because there hadn't been a place to stop and by the time they had finally found a diner, both of them had been starving. Once inside, Dean had jumped on the food with his usual grace of a four year old. Sam could still remember the amusing picture Dean had made. A sandwich had squirted some jam on his nose which he had been too busy to wipe off. The whipped cream from the pie had decorated his cheek. Grease was running down his chin from the steak and the milkshake had left a white mustache. Sam had considered then what old Sammy would have done. Well, Sammy would have mocked Dean's habits, but before that he'd have taken a picture for future torment. But all the while he would be smiling more brightly than he should have been, as if the whole thing was funnier than it had any reason to be. Sam realized now that what he should have felt was a sense of wonder at his brother's innocence and his enjoyment of the simple pleasures of life.

Having a soul wasn't all bad after all. Every moment he spent with Dean reminded him of all the reasons for having a soul. It was true that he felt none of the bad emotions associated with having a soul, in which case he was better off now, but without a soul he could feel none of the good ones either and then he was actually worse off. Especially in moments like these, while watching Dean sleep, he wanted to feel what the old Sam would've felt, something that would make all the bad ones worth it. The philosophers of old knew what they were talking about after all. No pleasure without pain. No peace without suffering. No love without hate. No yang without ying. And after all the sorrow and pain he had been through, didn't he deserve to feel the good parts? Now, when he could have been the happiest in his life, now when all the revenge and destiny and his mistakes were past him, now when he could have really appreciated his brother in his life, now was when his soul deserted him?

Getting his soul back would definitely be worth all the guilt it would bring, Sam decided. Because without his soul, being with Dean felt more hollow than being without him. Slowly, little by little, Dean was making him realize how much better things would be with a soul. Like when Dean had hugged him, Sam had felt none of the euphoria that was there the last time, after hell. When his brother had wanted to have a beer with him, Sam hadn't felt comfort or peace. When his brother complimented him on his skills, Sam no longer felt the warm glow of accomplishment. When Dean did something spectacular, like standing up to Samuel or taking care of a baby, Sam didn't feel pride in his brother. And when Dean patched him up, he no longer felt safe and secure as if nothing could hurt him. He felt none of those things, but he knew that he wanted to feel them again.

Almost hoping that he might have gotten his soul back with this realization, Sam climbed under the covers with Dean and turned to his side. Dean must have been really out of it, Sam thought. Any sobriety and Dean would have kicked him out of the bed for trying to pretend to be his little brother. Further evidence of Dean's unconsciousness, Sam thought, was the fact that Dean pulled Sam close, his back against Dean's chest and wrapped an arm around him. An awake Dean would never do that. Still, it brought none of the emotions that he used to be familiar with. He found Dean's arm heavy and constricting and his breath smelled of liquor, which definitely wasn't pleasant. He felt none of the warmth and comfort and safety and irrational, unreasonable happiness to have Dean hold him close.

"You feel anything, Sam?" A voice said near his ear.

Dean had been awake. Dean had been awake and he had let Sam get close to him. It seemed that Dean was as desperate for Sam to feel something as Sam was himself. More, infact, since Dean still had his soul.

"No." Sam replied, getting out of covers and getting back to the research. "I felt nothing at all."

They need to give Sam his soul back by the winter hiatus. Otherwise its gonna be hell, literally.