likely_evil | [badcompany_muse]: Deprivation

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[badcompany_muse]: Deprivation

ooc: demon!Sam verse. The night after this

It was in the other eyes of the demon that Sam found himself remembering. Pain. Hurt. Fire. Smoke. DEAN! They had always been feelings. Things he didn't see pictured in his head.

But he saw them now. They had found another motel to sleep in that night, and Alec and Dean were inside. Two beds, two men. Trying to sleep. Not think of the demons. Not think of bad things. But Sam can only think of bad things. Bad bad things. Pain. Hurt. Fire. Smoke. DEAN!

Sam sat on the hood of the Impala. He leaned back on the windshield and looked up at the stars. The sky was black. Dark. But there was light. Little worlds making light. But there only light in hell was from fire.

There were only a few memories that Sam had. Now he had these and he didn't want them anymore. They were not fireflies. They were knives and blood and bad things. Bad things.

Pain. He was on a rack. Hooks in his shoulder. threads woven in and out of his limbs to keep him in place. Dad next to him. Same torture. Alastair. "It's ok, Sammy. Be strong."

Hurt. Knives. Cutting flesh. Muscle. Little strips away piece by piece. Different ways. More and more until nothing left. Dad crying. Alastair laughing. Then back in one piece. Breathless. Raw.

Fire. So hot. Pokers. Stabbing skin. Eyeballs. Smell the flesh as it burnt when it fell to the ground. Flesh curls when it burns. Lights up like a firefly before it dies. Gone.

Smoke. So thick. Hurt to breathe. Can't see. See things wrong. Where's dad? not on rack. Knife. In front. Alastair smiling. Dad not. "It's ok, Sammy. Be strong."

DEAN!

The crack of the windshield brought Sam back from his vision. He looked down and saw his hands were bleeding. Then he saw the Impala. The windshield was broken. Two impacts. Stars bursting from the pain to ripple along the clear glass. Never the same. Can't see through. Shattered.

Home was broken. He broke it. His fault. Dean will be mad. Sam quickly got into the car and curled up in the back seat. He his his hands in his hoodie. Curled up and rocked as he tried to keep the memory away. Dean would be out soon. Yelling. Mad.

His fault. He was a demon. Bad. Bad thing.

Pain. Hurt. Fire. Smoke. DEAN!

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Alec had rolled onto the floor landing in a crouch before he'd even fully woken up. A pop/bang and shattering glass meant hit the deck. He sniffed and did a quick visual sweep. No scent of blood or outside air. No broken window, no bullet lodged in the wall. But also, no Sam. He looked over at Dean then to see if he had any ideas.

Dean woke up a little more slowly, glancing around in confusion for a moment to see where the sound was coming from. He made the same assessment Alec did, before his eyes widened and he quickly started pushing himself out of bed.

"My car," he gasped, pulling his jeans and the nearest pair of shoes he could find before running towards the door.

"Shit" Alec was only two steps behind Dean, but that's only because he put on a burst of speed to find and get into his pants.

Dean stumbled out into the parking lot, and when he saw the state of the windshield he probably looked like he was going to pass out. His first thought was some kind of punk ass kid had thought it'd be funny to break the windshield of his baby, and he had to say he was none-to-pleased.

"Sonuvabitch," he muttered, before starting to inspect the windshielf. "Whoever did this, I swear to God -- "

He cut himself off when he had another thought, before glancing back at Alec with concern. "Do you see Sam?"

"No, but I do smell blood." He sniffed again, getting closer to the hood of the car. He reached carefully in and pulled out a piece of glass sitting on the dash. He held it up to the light so Dean could see what Alec could see in the dark. It was tipped in blood.

Dean hesitated for a minute, mind automatically going to worse possible scenarios, before he started looking around, seeing what he could find.

"Sam?" he frowned, calling out for his brother as he looked, really, really hoping that a hunter or another demon hadn't gotten to him. "Hey, Sammy? Where are ya?"

Alec turned in a slow circle and then held still listening, before sniffing again. The blood smell was to strong to just be the glass.

And there it was. The little hitch of breath in response to Dean's call. Alec aproached the car again and peered in carefully.

Dean followed Alec's lead, moving back towards the car, moving to look in the driver's side window as oppose to the windshield. He looked around for a minute, looking for any sign of life, when he spotted the ball huddled in the back seat.

As soon as he spotted him, he let out a visible sigh of relief before moving towards the back door and pull it open.

"Hey there, Sammy," he sighed, leaving the door open and sliding into the back seat, reaching for his brother's shoulders to look him over and make sure he was okay. "You alright?"

Sam just curled up tighter. Dean found him. Dean had been mad. Very mad. He had hurt home. He didn't mean to but he had and now Dean was mad.

"Sorry," Sam tried to move away from Dean. "Sorry, I'm sorry..." just kept repeating it over and over again.

Alec crouched down outside the door so he could see Sam better. "Oh boy." He sighed. Sam was reminding him of some of the littles back in TC. The way they looked up at him or some of the other 'officers' when they'd failed to do something perfectly or just plain screwed up. The way he felt their fear, not of punishment, but of disapointing. "Hey. Things happen. We'll get her fixed." He looked at Dean. "I'll got grab the first aid kit." The unspoke part being 'while you get with the demon cuddling.'

"Hey, easy," Dean said with a nod. "It's just glass. We can fix it later, no big deal." That's what fake credit cards were for, after all.

He slid an arm around his brother's shoulders and tried to get him a little closer and get a look at his hands. "Just tell me what happened, alright? I'm not gonna get mad."

Sam had good days and bad days. This... was a very bad day it appears.

With Dean not yelling at him and trying to soothe him, Sam did move towards him this time. "Bad thing. Bad. One month. Ten years. 3 days. year. 15 days. 5 years. Bad thing."

His hands were still deep in his hoodie, hiding them.

Oh boy. Sam was back to having some of his babbling crazies. Except Alec knew that he wasn't nuts. 15 days. 5 years. So not good. But at least he wasn't bolting. Alec disapeared back into the room for the kit and was back only a moment later. Patching Sam up would have been easier in the motel room with room, better light and a sink. But right now Sam needed to feel safe more than anything else. So they stayed in the back of the car.

"What bad thing, Sammy?" Dean asked gently, keeping his eyes on his brother. "What happened?"

Sam looked up at his brother at that point, his eyes wet with tears. "I broke home. Knives and blood. Bad things. Not fireflies."

He felt Alec try to get at his hands to patch them up, and he resisted. If Dean didn't see his hands then he wouldn't know he did the damage to the car.

Alec gave another gentle tug. More showing that he wanted to see, rather than trying to do anything against Sam's will. "Please? I'm actually pretty good at this. I'll be careful. I promise." He hoped Sam didn't need stitches because no way was he doing that without something to numb the skin. Which, at this hour he'd have to jack from somewhere. He'd do it if he needed to though.

"You didn't break home, Sam," Dean said, shaking his head softly. "We can fix it, no problem. Don't worry."

He knew the fireflies meant something, but he still wasn't sure how. "What do you mean, not fireflies?"

Sam rolled onto his back, head in dean's lap. He looked out the back window of the Impala. Almost like a cat, trusting someone to pet his belly. But it was so he could pull his hands out for Alec.

Alec wouldn't hurt him. Alec wasn't knives and cuts. Alec was nice. Dean was safe. He was safe there.

But how could he make Dean understand. The last time Sam tried to show him Hell, Dean was upset. In pain. Sam can't show him again. He wants to know but he can't.

"Cut away. Pieces curl up in the heat. Glow. Fireflies. Smoke. Ash. Gone."

Alec swallowed hard and shivered. That sounded like a week he'd had in med-lab once when he was on the lab cat rotation. He shook his head to clear it and reached out and took Sam's hand. He started to clean up the blood first, and on occasion had to pull out a sliver of glass.

It was slowly starting to click as to what Sam was talking about. He tensed slightly, looking down at his brother with a heavy sigh, before starting to try and relax.

"You got more memories from Hell, didn't you?"

Sam's head just lolled to look at the windshield. It was an avoidance tactic to not let Dean see his eyes. He couldn't lie if he looked in his eyes.

"Not strong. Bad thing. Bad."

"What's a bad thing Sam?" Most of the time he could sour out Sam's loose analogies, but not this time. The first hand didn't need stitches if Sam didn';t mind a couple of small scars. Just butterfly strips and anti-biotic ointment to avoid infection. Windsheilds were nto clean.

Dean was just quiet and let Sam answer the question. He knew what Sam was doing, and he didn't want to pressure him into saying something he didn't want to. But he also wanted to help, so for the most part, he just stayed quiet.

Sam stopped wiggling a moment, then blinked his eyes black and looked at Dean. "Alastair."

Alec wrapped Sam's hand in bandages and moved on to the other. "You don't belong to this Alastair dude anymore Sam."

[badcompany_muse]: Deprivation

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