Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likely_evil) wrote2009-04-24 08:08 pm
likely_evil) wrote2009-04-24 08:08 pm
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mad_muses: Can’t get it out of my head
Down the road, not across the street...
Ever since Dean had tried to help him up from that table and he had passed out, Sam saw the world in moments of nauseous green and black moments. He knew he was in the backseat of the Impala, his arms bound up and... handing off the passenger seat? Why... oh yeah, above the heart keeps from bleeding out. Dad taught him that when he was six and cut his hand on the hunting knife.
Hold it up, Sammy. Keep pressure on it Dean. We're almost to the hospital.
Hospital. Adam's mom was a nurse. Adam... his brother. Half Brother. Dead. Why did his family always die on him?
He was Dean's little brother. Sam had always wanted a little brother of his own, someone to look up to him and teach and protect like Dean always did for him. And there had been one all along. Sam had done the math. He was eight when Adam was born. Eight. Just learning about the hunting world and once a year while Dean and Sam sat alone in motel rooms worried on if he would ever come back.
Sam hated knowing that Dad held this kid above him and Dean. Why did Adam get to be free of this life, but he and Dean had to fight in it? Why did he want Adam to get the white picket fence when it was all Sam wanted.
Oh wait, that's right. Sammy's the freak. Demon boy. Normal life isn't something he'll ever get. Tried it once, almost had it but then it was "sorry, Sammy, time to get on the special psychic kid bus". His life was all about revenge now: Mom, Dad, Jess, Dean... the list just went on and on and he was starting to forget the times where he had a good life.
Heh. His ankle wasn't hurting anymore. That was good, right?
You can't have those kinds of connections. Ever. They're weaknesses, you'll just put those people in danger...
He came to again, this time in the bathroom of a motel. Dean was holding his head as he threw up, making it to the toilet this time... he barely had any blood left and all the rest of the fluids in his body wanted to leave him as well.
Nobody could be around Sam. He had to let them go. They were safer that way. Didn't have to worry about being hurt or hunted or pinned to the ceiling and set on fire, or rip to shreds by hell hounds. He had to shut them all away from him and stop feeling because if he let himself feel that again... let himself care for someone that way again? Sam knew he wouldn't survive.
He was barely surviving as it was.
Down the road, not across the street...
He remembered that night, when the demon said that they wouldn't deal because they had Dean where they wanted him in Hell. He was beyond drunk and sat in the Impala, staring at the knife that still had the blood of the demon on it. The screams echoed in his head and he swore he heard Dean screaming his name, wanting him to get down there and save him.
He wasn't succeeding on Earth. He looked at his arms, dis-attached to the point where he wondered if he cut the flesh, would he even feel it through the pain in his heart? Maybe if he cut enough he could get the demon blood out. Ruby's knife killed demons... he was only part demon. Could he kill just that half of him?
Maybe he could die and go to Hell, then he and Dean could get out together. They worked better as a team. Brothers. They were weaker apart.
That's how the ghouls got him. Separated Dean from Sam and then baby brother was once again the weaker link and they snatched him. He had to stop being weak. Stop getting into situations where Dean had to save him and then he would lose his life again and Sam couldn't lose Dean again.
His baby brother was dead. He didn't even know him and Sam hurt because Adam was dead and he never got to know him. Adam never got to even know about them. Sam couldn't even know if the Adam he had spent time was even the Adam they would have met, had they known.
... and their thoughts and their memories... by the way, he really was your brother...
"Dean. Adam..."
"I know."
Sam clung to the memory of them with the guns. Being able to show Adam how to shoot. How to take care of them. He was getting to teach a brother something, not the other way around. So proud, he never felt that before.
Had Dean felt that with everything he had taught him? Was that the thing Dean missed with every glare and pained look now he gave Sam when Dean thought he wasn't looking? Why the siren had gotten Dean so easily? God, he really sucked as a little brother, didn't he?
Why was it then that Dean was smiling for the first time in a week as he worked to keep his brother from passing out again?
"Dean, I'm sorry..."
"I know, Sammy," Dean said softly, pressing a wet cloth to Sam's forehead. "Calm down or you're going to start bleeding again. You don't got much left in you. You're ok, Sammy, I got you."
It's ok, Sammy. You can have it.
The feel of him being pushed back on the mattress is familiar. But Ruby in his mind fades to Dean. The blood he tastes in his mouth is now apple juice as Dean tilts his head back to drink. "Come on, Sammy. Just a little bit, that's all I'm asking."
"No..."
"Stop fighting me, Sam. Drink it, or by God..."
Sam chuckled a bit at the veiled Divine threat, but since it was Dean asking, he took the sip, then realized just how thirty he was. He brought his hand up to steady the cup, then cried out in pain and collapsed back against the bed. The groaned as black started the cloud his vision, and heard Dean cuss and grab his wrist, squeezing hard.
Part of him wanted to tell Dean to stop. Let the rest of the blood flow out of him. Then he could die without the demon blood in his veins. Go before God for judgment free from the demon - but still having to face the monster he had become.
Monster... you use that word a lot... but I don't think you know what it means...
... a monster named John Winchester...
... I finally get why you and Dad butt heads so much: you're practically the same person...
He woke up later to find Dean asleep in the bed with him. They were on a king - the two queens were probably unavailable so they usually made do. But Sam's head was on a pillow on Dean's lap, and his eyes looked up to see Dean asleep. One hand was on Sam's wrists, keeping them trapped above Sam's head so they wouldn't shift again. There were new bandages, and Sam was sure there were stitches on them now.
Dean's other hand was on Sam's back, a small comfort gesture like he was hugging him closer.
Always the one sacrificing for him. Watching for traps that Sam never sees. Protecting him, having his back and all Sam has done in the past eight months was give him shit and make his life hard. And even with all this, here Dean was, still watching over him. Still keeping him alive. Sam was twenty six now and here he was, still needing Dean to save his life.
Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job.
If only Dean know about the monster he was holding. It went further than being like their dad. Layers that Dean might not understand. Dean had seen all of Hell, but Sam doubted that he had seen anything like what Sam was becoming.
Would Dean still save him?
Could Dean save him?
Can anyone?
Down the road, not across the street...
Ever since Dean had tried to help him up from that table and he had passed out, Sam saw the world in moments of nauseous green and black moments. He knew he was in the backseat of the Impala, his arms bound up and... handing off the passenger seat? Why... oh yeah, above the heart keeps from bleeding out. Dad taught him that when he was six and cut his hand on the hunting knife.
Hold it up, Sammy. Keep pressure on it Dean. We're almost to the hospital.
Hospital. Adam's mom was a nurse. Adam... his brother. Half Brother. Dead. Why did his family always die on him?
He was Dean's little brother. Sam had always wanted a little brother of his own, someone to look up to him and teach and protect like Dean always did for him. And there had been one all along. Sam had done the math. He was eight when Adam was born. Eight. Just learning about the hunting world and once a year while Dean and Sam sat alone in motel rooms worried on if he would ever come back.
Sam hated knowing that Dad held this kid above him and Dean. Why did Adam get to be free of this life, but he and Dean had to fight in it? Why did he want Adam to get the white picket fence when it was all Sam wanted.
Oh wait, that's right. Sammy's the freak. Demon boy. Normal life isn't something he'll ever get. Tried it once, almost had it but then it was "sorry, Sammy, time to get on the special psychic kid bus". His life was all about revenge now: Mom, Dad, Jess, Dean... the list just went on and on and he was starting to forget the times where he had a good life.
Heh. His ankle wasn't hurting anymore. That was good, right?
You can't have those kinds of connections. Ever. They're weaknesses, you'll just put those people in danger...
He came to again, this time in the bathroom of a motel. Dean was holding his head as he threw up, making it to the toilet this time... he barely had any blood left and all the rest of the fluids in his body wanted to leave him as well.
Nobody could be around Sam. He had to let them go. They were safer that way. Didn't have to worry about being hurt or hunted or pinned to the ceiling and set on fire, or rip to shreds by hell hounds. He had to shut them all away from him and stop feeling because if he let himself feel that again... let himself care for someone that way again? Sam knew he wouldn't survive.
He was barely surviving as it was.
Down the road, not across the street...
He remembered that night, when the demon said that they wouldn't deal because they had Dean where they wanted him in Hell. He was beyond drunk and sat in the Impala, staring at the knife that still had the blood of the demon on it. The screams echoed in his head and he swore he heard Dean screaming his name, wanting him to get down there and save him.
He wasn't succeeding on Earth. He looked at his arms, dis-attached to the point where he wondered if he cut the flesh, would he even feel it through the pain in his heart? Maybe if he cut enough he could get the demon blood out. Ruby's knife killed demons... he was only part demon. Could he kill just that half of him?
Maybe he could die and go to Hell, then he and Dean could get out together. They worked better as a team. Brothers. They were weaker apart.
That's how the ghouls got him. Separated Dean from Sam and then baby brother was once again the weaker link and they snatched him. He had to stop being weak. Stop getting into situations where Dean had to save him and then he would lose his life again and Sam couldn't lose Dean again.
His baby brother was dead. He didn't even know him and Sam hurt because Adam was dead and he never got to know him. Adam never got to even know about them. Sam couldn't even know if the Adam he had spent time was even the Adam they would have met, had they known.
... and their thoughts and their memories... by the way, he really was your brother...
"Dean. Adam..."
"I know."
Sam clung to the memory of them with the guns. Being able to show Adam how to shoot. How to take care of them. He was getting to teach a brother something, not the other way around. So proud, he never felt that before.
Had Dean felt that with everything he had taught him? Was that the thing Dean missed with every glare and pained look now he gave Sam when Dean thought he wasn't looking? Why the siren had gotten Dean so easily? God, he really sucked as a little brother, didn't he?
Why was it then that Dean was smiling for the first time in a week as he worked to keep his brother from passing out again?
"Dean, I'm sorry..."
"I know, Sammy," Dean said softly, pressing a wet cloth to Sam's forehead. "Calm down or you're going to start bleeding again. You don't got much left in you. You're ok, Sammy, I got you."
It's ok, Sammy. You can have it.
The feel of him being pushed back on the mattress is familiar. But Ruby in his mind fades to Dean. The blood he tastes in his mouth is now apple juice as Dean tilts his head back to drink. "Come on, Sammy. Just a little bit, that's all I'm asking."
"No..."
"Stop fighting me, Sam. Drink it, or by God..."
Sam chuckled a bit at the veiled Divine threat, but since it was Dean asking, he took the sip, then realized just how thirty he was. He brought his hand up to steady the cup, then cried out in pain and collapsed back against the bed. The groaned as black started the cloud his vision, and heard Dean cuss and grab his wrist, squeezing hard.
Part of him wanted to tell Dean to stop. Let the rest of the blood flow out of him. Then he could die without the demon blood in his veins. Go before God for judgment free from the demon - but still having to face the monster he had become.
Monster... you use that word a lot... but I don't think you know what it means...
... a monster named John Winchester...
... I finally get why you and Dad butt heads so much: you're practically the same person...
He woke up later to find Dean asleep in the bed with him. They were on a king - the two queens were probably unavailable so they usually made do. But Sam's head was on a pillow on Dean's lap, and his eyes looked up to see Dean asleep. One hand was on Sam's wrists, keeping them trapped above Sam's head so they wouldn't shift again. There were new bandages, and Sam was sure there were stitches on them now.
Dean's other hand was on Sam's back, a small comfort gesture like he was hugging him closer.
Always the one sacrificing for him. Watching for traps that Sam never sees. Protecting him, having his back and all Sam has done in the past eight months was give him shit and make his life hard. And even with all this, here Dean was, still watching over him. Still keeping him alive. Sam was twenty six now and here he was, still needing Dean to save his life.
Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job.
If only Dean know about the monster he was holding. It went further than being like their dad. Layers that Dean might not understand. Dean had seen all of Hell, but Sam doubted that he had seen anything like what Sam was becoming.
Would Dean still save him?
Could Dean save him?
Can anyone?
Down the road, not across the street...
OOC
ooc
no subject
no subject
Also, thinking about their conversation in Metamorphosis, Dean's proud of his brother for sticking to his decision about his powers only being used on Demons. Dean knows enough about the powers to begin with to know that obviously all the stuff can be learned, the way Jake did the mind control, and even Sam once did the telekinesis. Sam's hold of his powers is so complete that he didn't even use them on the ghouls.
Overall... I think all the silence and probably the way he learns about it will have much, much more to do with the extent to which Dean freaks out than the fact itself. I mean, he won't be happy about it, by far, anyway, but those would make it much worse. But hey. If the boys were perfect, they wouldn't be half so much fun to
torturetell stories about, would they?And even learning that will not be strong enough to make Dean stop
lovingworshipingcaring for and trying to protect his brother. Maybe his trust will be shaken, but not his ... heart.