Good Intentions, Bad idea.
Summary. . . . . . . . . A look inside Sam's mind as he battles his inner demons. A short tag to Good God Y'all.
A.N. . . . . . . . . . Arrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!!!!! Lets just say my remote nearly went through the TV last night as the screen went blank just at the most exciting bit of the show, so as of yet I haven't seen the ending, although my sis has told me what happened. Anyhow, I told her I was gonna try and write a tag for every episode this season but was struggling with last nights. She said that I have a way of getting into Sam's mind and that I should do a tag based upon War's talk with the youngest Winchester, so here's my offering. I hope it lives up to your expectations Kris. As always I thank you for reading, and I hope that you enjoy, Peanut x
I can lie to myself, to Dean, all I want but deep down I know the truth. I still want it, the blood, the power, I still want it. The need runs through my veins like an itch that refuses to be scratched no matter how hard I try, or how deep I cut. I think back to how it felt when I stuck my knife through that demons throat, how the blood trailing down my knife called to me to touch it, to taste it; how I think I would have succumbed and tasted if Dean hadn't have chosen that moment to have walked through the door. I try to ignore it's call as I sit here, tied to this chair with ropes I should be strong enough to break, ropes that seem to tighten even more though with each pull I place upon them until the skin beneath begins to burn apart, splitting open in places, releasing crimson and making the urge for another hit all the more stronger. I find myself happy when Jo and Rufus start to torture me, as for a few brief minutes the urge is pushed to the back of my mind; but it's always there, teasing me, taunting me with thoughts of how weak I have become.
I cringe as Roger walks into the room, I know something is different about him, but I haven't figured out just what that is yet. It comes to me quite quickly though as he starts to talk, he's War, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. His words bounce of me at first, allowing that constant itch to return, making me twitch as I wish for the strength I once had, the strength to kill him where he sits, if only I could get a taste. That thought catches in my mind as some of his words break through my barriers and strike a chord home.
"Oh that's adorable considering you're my poster boy."
What does he mean? Am I still tainted? Does it still run through me? Will I still turn dark side?
"You can't stop thinking about it ever since you saw it dripping of the blade of that knife."
I can hear myself deny his accusations and so desperately want to believe what I'm saying is true, but just the mention of that knife again has brought back all those feelings, and the way he talks about it dripping has set off a storm of emotions within me that are getting harder and harder to push aside.
"I can see inside your head, and man is it one track city in there, blood. blood, blood."
Oh God, I can feel myself breaking, my emotions are a tumultuous wave that's crashing against my insides, fighting for a way to break free, but I fight back refusing to show him just how much his words are hurting me with their truth. I find myself repeating lies to myself, lies that speak about not needing the blood, lies that say his words are false, but they are what they are, and they're no where near powerful to overshadow what he's saying and what I'm feeling.
"Lust, for power same as always. You want to be strong again, but not just strong, stronger than everybody. Good intentions, quick slide to hell boy."
I'm still shocked by how much he knew me, how much he knew what I wanted. I do want the power, I do want to be strong, but not so that I can be the biggest, baddest. I want to save people like I did before, I want to be able to walk away from a hunt knowing that I have done everything I can to have helped, I don't want to kill first ask questions later, I never have, but he says it'll be a quick step to hell and I don't understand. I wont have killed anyone, I will have saved the hosts, shouldn't that mean something? If I go in swinging Ruby's knife and kill everything, isn't that worse? These thoughts and more fight a continuous battle within me as Rufus and Jo re-enter the room. I shove them aside as I try to get through to them both, but my words fall on deaf ears, and as I surrender to the darkness that's encroaching I'm left to my own bleak thoughts once more.
A.N. . . . . . Good? Bad? Let me know.