waywardfanficwriter:

superlology:

safiyabat:

twinkjared:

How would Sam’s soul look to that nun if she was able to get her hands on it? Would it be dimmed and blurry, an opaque color because of how much it suffered at the hands of Lucifer and Michael for thousands of years?

Would the nun even want his soul after seeing how fragile it must look, and deem it to be useless?

No. Remember how it looked in Death’s bag? All of those souls were in those jars. Sam’s took an entire bag and when Death opened that bag that soul shone so bright it lit the room, everyone else had to look away and it took both Death’s hands to hold it. It’s mutilated, it’s flayed, it’s torn and shredded but it still shines bright like the sun.  

He doesn’t know that. I bet he thinks that the nun wouldn’t want it. But it’s still bright.  

Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. There’s deadened feeling, sometimes. Sometimes there’s no sensation at all. Sometimes there’s hypersensitivity. But it is always, always stronger. And it’s usually noticeable; it’s a different color, or a different texture, or a different thickness. Scars never quite leave completely. (Hell, I still have a scar on my forehead that I got when I was six months old.)

Sam’s soul is made of scar tissue after all that time in the Cage. Nobody will ever come close to matching it’s strength, because nobody else will ever have a soul that’s been flayed and mutilated and put back together. (And yeah, that’s a good thing.) But the benefit is the strength – it’s the strength that let him help Marin in the hospital, and lets him keep going without obvious coping mechanisms, and had him making a cup of tea for a little old spitfire of a woman who expected to be laughed out of the station (and almost was).

Sam’s soul shines brighter because it’s been through literal Hell and come out stronger. It shines because Sam tries to do the right thing in impossible situations. It shines because he has the strength of will to overcome Lucifer and Gadreel. And that will – to do the right thing, to take control of his body, to say No, this is MINE and you do NOT get to control me – is what knitted him together into a patchwork of scars instead of continuing to bleed.

He’s made of scar tissue, and so he’s unbreakable.

This has made me cry for the past five or so minutes. Because it is true and truly the most beautiful thing I have read all day.