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John and Dean strode into their motel room, high off the adrenaline from a successful hunt. They'd salted and burned the ghost without getting even a scratch on them, the spirit arriving just as John lit the match. That was a little troubling, actually, but so long as there were no bodies on the news tomorrow, then there was nothing to worry about.
Dean glanced up at Sam, flashing a grin at him. The thirteen year old was sitting in the bed, a mournful look on his face. Upon seeing his brother's expression, Dean's grin faded, but before he could say anything about it, Sam began to speak.
"So, you killed the ghost, right? Congrats." Sam's voice was hollow and emotionless, causing all of Dean's nerves to stand in end.
Forcing a cocky smile, he replied, "No need to sound so excited about it, Sammy. You might not be able to take it."
Sam sighed. "Dean, the ghost went after kids. Yeah, I'm glad he's dead, but I'd really prefer to pretend he never existed at all."
John glanced up from where he was putting away his boots, saying "Well, Sam, they aren't going to go away just by wishing it. That's why we do this, so it doesn't kill anyone else."
"Eventually one of you will run out of second chances, and someone else will be left to pick up the pieces. I don't think it's fair. Why should our family be put second?" Sam's empty voice contradicted the angry words, causing both John and Dean to look at him sharply.
"Wow, morbid much?" Dean said, a bit concerned now.
"Why don't you stop hunting? I just want you both to be safe, and I won't be able to protect you guys."
John sighed internally, gearing up for yet another battle of the wills. His youngest had started acting up lately, always questioning him and his choices. It looked like tonight would be the same.
"Then you should practice more. Once you can reliably shoot a gun, then we'll be safer, have more backup."
Sam's face fell even more. "I can't."
"Why not?" John asked. "Hunting too good for you?"
Dean, ever the peacemaker, interjected, saying, "Calm down guys. The hunt was fine. Why do we have to do this tonight? Why can't we have a night of quiet?"
"You left me alone, again. I think I have the right to be a bit angry right now, Dean."
"Why?" John asked, frustrated at his son's words. "Why are you acting so childish right now? We ganked the sucker, end of story. You didn't even do anything, you just stayed behind."
"I should have gone with you."
"That's why you're mad?" John said, a thin layer of derision covering his growing anger. "Based on your behavior just now, you clearly aren't mature enough to go on hunts with us. Besides, it was too dangerous coming with us. You could have gotten hurt."
"It's safer with you."
John, in an effort to calm the argument down, bit back his sharp reply. That would only end up with one of them outright screaming at the other.
"Well, you were just fine on your own."
Instead of placating Sam, it only seemed to make him angry, breaking his empty tone for the first time in the entire conversation.
"How do you know? You didn't ask me."
Sam's anger only caused John to abort his attempt at a truce, making his words cruel.
"Oh, I'm sorry, princess. Can you not handle being alone for a few hours by yourself?"
"Not when there's a ghost flying around!"
Deans tired voice broke through the argument, sounding older than a seventeen year old's should.
"Sam, the ghost is dead and we're back now. Can you both please stop fighting?"
Sam's voice reverted back to the monotone, eerily quiet.
"This is important, Dean."
Dean held out his hands in a calming gesture, attempting to placate his sibling.
"Of course it is. It's just that we just came back from a hunt, and I'd really like to go to sleep."
"Sure. I understand." Sam said. "I just want to know that I'm being heard here. All I want is for you to stop throwing yourselves at danger. You could get killed, and I don't want you to go bloody. I want you to go when you're sleeping, or something. That sounds more peaceful than death by ghost."
"This wasn't really 'throwing ourselves at danger'." Dean said, slightly irritated at Sam now. "It was just a salt and burn."
"People die from those all the time."
"That they do, which is why we have to stop it." John interjected. "Are we done now, son? Because I really need to go to sleep, and your talking isn't going to help with that."
Sam looked down nervously.
"Well... there's something I haven't quite told you yet."
"What now?"
"I'm. Well, I'm." Sam swallowed anxiously. "I- I can't tell you. I guess I can show you, though. You'd find out eventually."
"Fine. What is it?"
"Over here, behind the bed, near the bathroom."
"What the hell could be so important in the bathroom?"
"Lots of things." Sam said darkly. "Look, I just- I just wanted to pretend that nothing had happened. I know I can't, but I wish I could."
Fear pooling in Dean's gut, he asked quietly, "Sam. What happened?"
Sam said nothing, only gesturing to the bathroom. John and Dean strode slowly over to the bathroom, afraid of what they could find that could make Sam dread telling them so much. John saw it first, jumping back a little in shock, covering his mouth with his hand as though afraid of what he'd say if it wasn't there. Dean just stood and stared in horror, tears slowly filling his eyes as what he was seeing sunk in.
Blood was pooled on the tiles, a dark scarlet that would probably never come out. Lying in the middle of it lay Sam, eyes blank and unseeing, dark hair fanned out under his head. His throat was slit, a crimson smile across pale skin.
They slowly turned to where Sam's ghost stood by the beds, looking at them sadly. He gave a small, heartbreaking smile and said, "The ghost went after kids."