His hand snapped shut and Sam ruthlessly stomped down a desire to round on Dean and just take one shot at him. Just one. He was cut off now – couldn’t talk to Ruby, couldn’t see her, and now Dean had forbidden him to touch the blood that was secreted away in his jacket. Sitting on the corner of the bed, as far away from Dean as he could get, Sam raked his hands through his hair. It was like he was twelve all over again. Edicts delivered and Sammy had to fall in line because he couldn’t be a good soldier like Dean. Couldn’t just obey without question. Follow orders, Sam. It’s for your own good.

“I hate you.”

Words he’d never said to his brother before, but they were delivered with quiet ferocity. This was a betrayal, stealing away his independence, his choice. If they were mistakes, they were his to make.

Screw this. If there was one thing Sam had excelled in as a kid, it was pushing the boundaries of orders.

He slammed the motel door behind him hard enough to rattle the window.

He’d sleep in the car. It might be miserable and cold without his jacket – but he wouldn’t have to look at Dean and right now, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.