I don’t even know what to call it. Sam thought to himself, watching arterial blood spurting from where his left arm had been moments before. It just killed me, and I don’t even know what it is.Dean screamed like Sam probably should have and chased the monster down one of the tunnels
( ... )
Dean had been occupied with A) trying to make someone fix Sam, and B) killing the monster. Now that the monster was dead and Dean was running out of options for getting Sam’s arm regenerated, Dean was going to turn his efforts to smothering Sam. Sam knew it as certainly as he knew his own name
( ... )
Surprisingly, the whole three days that Dean was gone went very well. Sam spent most of the time cataloging the Men of Letters’ library into the online database he was building. He missed his second hand while typing, but this task was fairly easy to do one handed
( ... )
This was great! I loved how you wrote Sam's breakdown at the end of the fic--he'd been locking all his feelings up and pretending to be okay but it was inevitable it would all come crashing down.
Warning for blood and graphic permanent injury.
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I don’t even know what to call it. Sam thought to himself, watching arterial blood spurting from where his left arm had been moments before. It just killed me, and I don’t even know what it is.Dean screamed like Sam probably should have and chased the monster down one of the tunnels ( ... )
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