Ooopsie Daisy

Who Is Sam?

Sam hadn't been driving for more than 5 minutes when there was a flash of light and a gruesome THUMP. His foot had to have slammed on the brakes the moment the light appeared in front of them... but even the black 1967 Chevy Impala couldn't go from 70mph to 0mph in the span of 20 feet, so whoever it was... Sam turned to Dean, eyes wide.
    "Should I... pull over?"
    Dean's eyes were locked on the road behind him. He didn't say anything. Sam pulled over slowly to park the car, and Dean tumbled out the second the car stopped, running into the road.
    He turned to shout, but there were no cars in sight. Dean crouched over the body, saying something... Sam swallowed. Whoever it was, they weren't moving.
    Sam opened the door, pushing away his trepidation. In the trunk, he found a first aid kit, and ran over to the..... Oh, it was just Castiel.
    Sam set the kit next to Dean and backed up. And then backed up some more. "You guys just... gonna sit there? Dean, we should get him off the road." Whether Dean heard or not, he was too in the moment to respond, staring deeply into Cas's blue eyes.
    Sam wandered towards the car again, and took a conscious effort to shift his path toward the woods. A bit of broken glass and an empty pringles wrapper stared up at him from the puddles in the gutter.
    "Hm," Sam said, taking the long step over to the other side of the gutter. He could see one or two pale bloated flecks in the gutter... There must have been chips left in the bag. Sam wondered how much Vitamin C there were in the chips... Would it be enough to stave off scurvy? Possibly life-saving vitamins left floating in the gutter.
The FDA estimates that 20-50% of American food is wasted. Around 21% of that is wasted at the consumer level, like whoever tossed a chips bag that had those chips still rattling around in it. Sam had been reading more studies recently. He opened up his phone and scrolled. The Estimated Amount, Value, and Calories of Postharvest Food Losses at the Retail and Consumer Levels in the United States. Fun read. Very short.
    Sam stared into the woods and pictured how many dense forests like this were destroyed for the sake of fields which grew food no one would ever eat.
Food could nourish the soul. At Stanford, his girlfriend had been the one to teach him how to make ramen in the right way. She used the stove rather than the microwave, added sauces to the broth for a cheap addition to the flavor, and sliced vegetables on top. He remembered talking for hours over empty bowls when they had first moved in together. Making and eating food together with friends and loved ones... it was warming on a level unrelated to temperature.
Jess was an amazing woman, always lighting up the room and bringing out the best in everyone. He smiled, remembering when she hadn't let him be modest about his LSAT score... The memory was vastly overshadowed with what had happened afterward. He froze up, trying to banish the flames from his mind.
To distract himself, he started thinking about his brother. Dean hadn't been eating enough lately, Sam was pretty sure. He would always lose his appetite halfway through his burgers... the food went to waste. Sam sighed.
Sam heard the rumbling of cars passing by on the highway and leaned against the nearest tree. The flexible steadiness of the tree was so soothing.     Sam let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding.
He didn't need to wonder about his life if he hadn't left with Dean that day. Sam had long accepted that his life would never be the same, and that he couldn't stop its downward trend. He was okay with that.
It didn't matter that he wanted to put his peen in the tailpipe of the black 1967 Chevy Impala. Plenty of guys had weird kinks, this one was just... Sam wondered if it had something to do with wanting his pre-Dean life back. Exercising control over something Dean cared about just as the things Dean cared about controlled him. Sam's gaze drifted up to the sky- hidden by thick midwestern clouds, which were in turn hidden by thick midwestern foliage. Still, in some places a blue sky peeked through.
Did he really want an angel or a devil as a boyfriend? Did he really need to perform homosexuality for the love of adoring fans? Or was he just craving the lifestyle of someone who truly knew and accepted themselves?
He inhaled the clean, wild air into his lungs. Who was Sam Winchester? He was tired of being scared of the answer. It was time to find out.
That was when he realized the traffic sounds were worryingly chaotic for those of a highway he'd left his brother out in the middle of. Sam hurried back.