Summary. . . . . . . Set after the season finale, kinda what I would love to see, a destroyed Sam, and Dean being there for him.
Disclaimer. . . . . Kripkies, only playing with his creations.
A.N. . . . . . . Just feeling down knowing we have no new episode until fall, so I wrote me a little destroyed Sam cause I know I'm not the only one who loves me an emo Sammy. Hope you enjoy, Peanut x
He watched from his precarious position as the bottle he had let go off twisted and turned as gravity took hold of it and it tumbled to the rocks that lay so far below his feet. He looked away as the sound of smashing glass finally made it's way to his ears, and pulled another beverage from within it's cardboard container. Popping the lid, he flicked the small piece of metal over the edge, allowing it to take the path the bottle had taken previously. Bringing the gradually warming liquid to his lips he guzzled half the bottle before lowering his arm to rest once more on his jean clad thigh, the brown glass clinking against the overhanging rock he was sitting upon. He swiped at the tears that leaked slowly from his sunken black circled eyes to course their way past hollow cheeks to nestle in an unfamiliar growth of beard, as the memories of the last year, and the last two weeks in particular, continued to assault his mind.
He swayed alarmingly as he shifted his weight to alleviate the numbness in his extremity; a numbness that was now constantly present throughout his whole being. Lifting the bottle again, he attempted to drink away his sorrows, grief and guilt, but no matter how hard he tried it always seemed to consume him, a daily reminder of just how stupid and gullible he had been, a daily reminder of just what he had done and become, a daily reminder of just how far he had fallen, and why? All because of a woman; a woman who had played him right from the start; a woman who had used his fears for his brother, his fears for the worlds future, his fears for his own future, against him, manipulating him into becoming this thing, this beast, this unnatural being, someone he was ashamed off.
Had he been so desperate for love, so desperate to be close to someone after Dean had died that he had forgotten everything he had ever been taught, that he had forgotten the first rule of demon lore; that they were scheming, lying sons of bitches. How could he have pushed aside all he believed in just because she showed some interest in him, interest he now knew was shown to gain her exactly what she had wanted, for him to become a pawn. He emptied the rest of the cheap liquor down his throat as the taste of her skin, her mouth, her essence, her blood tantalized his taste buds, hoping he could wash away all traces of her existence and banish all memories of the past year; but it wasn't enough, cause every time she disappeared, another taste invaded, and this one hurt even more.
He dropped the bottle again, not bothering to see it freefall to it's certain demise as screams, and shouts, and pleas echoed around his head, so loud he was sure if there was anyone close by they must surely be able to hear them too. Raising his hands to his ears, he pushed at the side of his head in a vain attempt to make the distressing noises abate, but they only seemed to grow stronger, the cries punishing him for the deed he had committed. He bent over, his body swaying unsteadily coming close to following the path the beer bottles had previously taken, as nausea rose and the need to expel it overcame him; the cries of the innocent still present overpowering his own distress.
Thoughts of the nurse, and the secret that he alone now bore, chipped away deeper into his already damage heart, encouraging the tears to fall much harder, the salty wetness mingling with the rain drops that had begun to fall in earnest. How could he have done such a thing? How could he have taken an innocent life? Didn't he swear to Dean that he wanted to save human lives, and that by using his powers he could do just that? Did this not make him into exactly the thing his Father he been so afraid of? Make him the thing that Dean was supposed to kill? And yet he was still here, still living; well if you could call his miserable existence living, ever since He had arisen, live for himself seemed to have stopped, a dead detachment seeming to have invaded him, a numbness that no matter what anyone tried could not be broken through.
Oh there had been days, after they had first returned to Bobby's, lucid moments between the confusion a second detox had muddled his mind with, when either Dean, or Bobby had been able to talk to him, encouraging him, willing him to make his way back; and on those days he had felt normal, a little baggage but nothing he couldn't handle. But then the nightmares had started, and the memories had returned, along with the anger, and sadness, and soul destroying guilt, turning him into a shell, a husk of a human that breathed, and moved, but could never find the will to do anything else. Dean and Bobby had both tried, both prayed, both pleaded with him, but the spark that made him the man they had both loved was gone; extinguished when reality had made itself known. So he had wasted away, no will to live present, and they had been forced to watch as he slowly deteriorated before them, neither older man wanting to leave him alone for a second, afraid of what he would do.
They had made a mistake this morning though, a mistake he had taken quick advantage of, sneaking out of the claustrophobic house before either of them could notice. Sneaking the beers from the secret stash he knew Bobby kept in a cooler in his workshop, he had made his way to this place; a place he had always found comfort in before now; a place that now seemed to mock him, the rocks shaping and forming into sneering mouths, the echoes of the birds sounding like contemptuous laughter, the weather changing from glorious sunshine to a gloom that rivaled his own, and the air filled with an oppressive depression that seemed to weigh down his very soul.
He closed his eyes against the scenery that had once brought him such joy, and reached out blindly for another beer to dull the ache, his eyes opening and his head turning as his fingers flapped against the wet sharpness of the rock, his eyes widening as he took in the damp denim clad legs that stood where his beer should have been. Closing his eyes again, not wanting to see the love and anguish that permanently seemed to emanate from his siblings eyes, he shrank even further into himself as he spoke.
"Go away Dean!"
"I can't do that Sammy. I'm suppose to look after you. I failed this year, but I will not do so again."
"Don't you dare pile this all on yourself, it wasn't your fault, I'm a grown man Dean, I can make my own decisions. I decided to go that way. I decided to do what I did, and now I have to live with the consequences. So I ask you again, please just leave me alone."
"No Sam, never. I need you brother, I can't do this alone."
"Yes you can! You could then and you can now."
"Yeah, maybe, but I still don't want too."
"Don't you get it Dean! I became exactly what they all said I was gonna be. I did things, terrible things, and they consume me now. Day and night the things I did are all I can think about. I hate what I've become Dean, I hate what I did."
"Yeah, but you can make up for that now! Don't you get it Sam. You have a chance to make amends, to start afresh. Please take it."
"I don't know whether I want to. I don't know whether I'm strong enough. I just want to die Dean. There no longer anything for me to live for."
"Don't you say that! Don't you ever say that! You're stronger then you have ever thought you were Sam, and now you have a chance to prove it, and I'll be there right by your side. I'm what you have to live for, me! We have work that needs to be finished Sam, are you just gonna sit there and allow life on earth to die? Or are you gonna help me?"
Dean offered a hand to his suffering sibling, his mind and body tense as he waited for a response. His head dropping, despair radiating from him as he thought he hadn't broken through, only to ebb a little as his brother's cold hand finally encircled his own, and he gratefully pulled his brother away from the edge.
"C'mon lets get you sober, we have a lot to do."
A.N. . . . . . . . Thanks as always for stopping by and reading, catch you soon, Peanut x