Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likely_evil) wrote2009-05-02 11:18 pm
likely_evil) wrote2009-05-02 11:18 pm
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justprompts: Birthday Boy in a Box
The greatest conflicts are not between two people, but between one person and himself.
-Garth Brooks
"Hey guys... this isn't funny. Guys? GUYS!"
The first few hours were full of screams, pounding fists, digging nails into the edges of the window plate and the door frame until his fingers were bleeding and his throat was raw. He slowly slid to the ground, gasping curses and damnation to anyone who could still hear him. For all he knew, they were gone and he would never see them again.
That was the fear that brought nightmares when he passed out. Nightmares of him becoming a demon and killing people. Family. finally he woke up screaming, covered in sweat.
He needed it. He needed it bad and he was shaking and it hurt.
"Dean... Dean let me out. You have to let me out..."
But his brother didn't answer and Sam growled. "LET ME OUT!" he shouted, and his anger focused now on the room, attacking the items Bobby had left inside and breaking whatever he could with whatever he had until his energy was spent.
After that he curled up in a corner, arms around his knees as he avoided the devil's trap in the center of the room just watched the door. It opened a crack and food and water were slipped in, then shut before he could pounce on the hand. He didn't want either. It wasn't what he needed.
Eventually it got cold in the room and he curled up into a ball, shivering hard. They were going to leave him here to die, weren't they? Leave him alone in a demon panic room until he died from not having another dose of demon blood.
He didn't have his phone or his jacket, not even a damn book to read. Just alone with his thoughts and the reflection of the fan spinning around and around. Like his life, spinning around in circles, out of control and slowly crashing to the ground.
They had all warned him to stop. Dean. The Angels. Bobby. Pam. Chuck. His powers weren't good. Dangerous road, so far off the reservation but he couldn't see just how far until now. And he didn't care. He needed it. Lilith was alive and until she was dead he had to keep doing this. Then he could stop. Then Dean and Bobby could lock him in here forever and throw away the key but not until Lilith was dead!
He just wanted Dean to be safe. Alive and able to live and have all those things he wanted. Sam knew he couldn't have those now; the boy with the demon blood wasn't that lucky. He couldn't have friends because they all died. His family died trying to keep him safe. No one was safe around him and he was better off dead.
No, he was dead. He had been since Jake had shoved that knife into his back. Ever since he had woken up, Sam just never felt like himself again. His life just kept slipping away like salt through his fingers and he was so tired and wanted it to end. He just wanted to close his eyes and know what peace was like again.
He figured he passed out again because when he opened his eyes, there was a box of cereal, some snacks, a thermos of coffee, water bottles, and a beer. He looked at the food packages and noticed that they were everything that he liked. Almost like it was a present for him. Like...
Moving his hand to the spot of room where there was light, he looked at the time. It was morning, and May 2nd.
His birthday.
Sam started to breathe faster as he realized that Dean was out there still, trying to take care of him. Doing this for him.
Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you…it was only if I couldn’t save you. Now, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna save you.
He felt the tears coming down his face and he wiped them away with a shaky hand. He was too dizzy to get up but instead pushed himself across the floor with his feet until he was curled up at it, his bloody fingers trying to find a crack or something to reach through with.
"Dean I'm sorry," he whimpered, his voice cracking with sobs. "Please let me out. Please... I can't do this... it hurts too much. I... I promise I'll stop Dean. Please... it's my birthday Dean. I can't spend it in here. I'll be good I swear. PLEASE. PLEASE Dean!"
The rest of his words were drowned out with his sobs as he curled back up into the shivering ball of angst, pain and detoxification.
In the end, Sam knew it was all his fault. He could blame the moon, stars, Ruby, destiny, fate, whatever the fuck he could think of, but in the end it was his fault. Dean and Bobby were just trying to protect him from himself, and he hated knowing he had sunk this far.
"Dean... please I need you. Open the door. Please."
No answer. Sam shut his eyes and started to cry again at his fate. He was going to die here in pain and alone, and all he had was a box of Lucky Charms and a warm beer.
This was not the way to have a happy birthday.
-Garth Brooks
"Hey guys... this isn't funny. Guys? GUYS!"
The first few hours were full of screams, pounding fists, digging nails into the edges of the window plate and the door frame until his fingers were bleeding and his throat was raw. He slowly slid to the ground, gasping curses and damnation to anyone who could still hear him. For all he knew, they were gone and he would never see them again.
That was the fear that brought nightmares when he passed out. Nightmares of him becoming a demon and killing people. Family. finally he woke up screaming, covered in sweat.
He needed it. He needed it bad and he was shaking and it hurt.
"Dean... Dean let me out. You have to let me out..."
But his brother didn't answer and Sam growled. "LET ME OUT!" he shouted, and his anger focused now on the room, attacking the items Bobby had left inside and breaking whatever he could with whatever he had until his energy was spent.
After that he curled up in a corner, arms around his knees as he avoided the devil's trap in the center of the room just watched the door. It opened a crack and food and water were slipped in, then shut before he could pounce on the hand. He didn't want either. It wasn't what he needed.
Eventually it got cold in the room and he curled up into a ball, shivering hard. They were going to leave him here to die, weren't they? Leave him alone in a demon panic room until he died from not having another dose of demon blood.
He didn't have his phone or his jacket, not even a damn book to read. Just alone with his thoughts and the reflection of the fan spinning around and around. Like his life, spinning around in circles, out of control and slowly crashing to the ground.
They had all warned him to stop. Dean. The Angels. Bobby. Pam. Chuck. His powers weren't good. Dangerous road, so far off the reservation but he couldn't see just how far until now. And he didn't care. He needed it. Lilith was alive and until she was dead he had to keep doing this. Then he could stop. Then Dean and Bobby could lock him in here forever and throw away the key but not until Lilith was dead!
He just wanted Dean to be safe. Alive and able to live and have all those things he wanted. Sam knew he couldn't have those now; the boy with the demon blood wasn't that lucky. He couldn't have friends because they all died. His family died trying to keep him safe. No one was safe around him and he was better off dead.
No, he was dead. He had been since Jake had shoved that knife into his back. Ever since he had woken up, Sam just never felt like himself again. His life just kept slipping away like salt through his fingers and he was so tired and wanted it to end. He just wanted to close his eyes and know what peace was like again.
He figured he passed out again because when he opened his eyes, there was a box of cereal, some snacks, a thermos of coffee, water bottles, and a beer. He looked at the food packages and noticed that they were everything that he liked. Almost like it was a present for him. Like...
Moving his hand to the spot of room where there was light, he looked at the time. It was morning, and May 2nd.
His birthday.
Sam started to breathe faster as he realized that Dean was out there still, trying to take care of him. Doing this for him.
Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you…it was only if I couldn’t save you. Now, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna save you.
He felt the tears coming down his face and he wiped them away with a shaky hand. He was too dizzy to get up but instead pushed himself across the floor with his feet until he was curled up at it, his bloody fingers trying to find a crack or something to reach through with.
"Dean I'm sorry," he whimpered, his voice cracking with sobs. "Please let me out. Please... I can't do this... it hurts too much. I... I promise I'll stop Dean. Please... it's my birthday Dean. I can't spend it in here. I'll be good I swear. PLEASE. PLEASE Dean!"
The rest of his words were drowned out with his sobs as he curled back up into the shivering ball of angst, pain and detoxification.
In the end, Sam knew it was all his fault. He could blame the moon, stars, Ruby, destiny, fate, whatever the fuck he could think of, but in the end it was his fault. Dean and Bobby were just trying to protect him from himself, and he hated knowing he had sunk this far.
"Dean... please I need you. Open the door. Please."
No answer. Sam shut his eyes and started to cry again at his fate. He was going to die here in pain and alone, and all he had was a box of Lucky Charms and a warm beer.
This was not the way to have a happy birthday.
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