Sequel to Feel So Numb
We do not own Supernatural, we are only using the characters for fun. Neither do we own any lyrics used in the story, nor do we claim to. They belong to their rightful owners and is only used to help describe a scene and used as a rarity. FULL story is Rated M for language, sex and violence. Anything else, for all you readers that are a fan of the first and have continued onward to this sequel, please enjoy. :)
-Wynter & Tori
1 week after the events of Feel So Numb.
February 8th, 2009 2:18 PM Day Before Full Moon
He wouldn't come out of the panic room. Sam could leave at any time he wanted really but he placed himself in there without Dean or Bobby forcing him. It wasn't that hard to tell that they didn't trust him especially since Dean saw just a little of Sam using his power to kill Lilith at the end. Especially because of Sorcha. He'd rather stay in a tight cold space then somewhere warm and welcoming. Instead of somewhere large and happy. He didn't deserve to be happy.
I've done very bad things. I betrayed Von. I cheated on Von with Alex and Ruby. I drank blood again and used my powers. I abandoned Von multiple times and some of them aren't even physically but emotionally as well.
Sam stared at the floor, tears dry on his cheeks but he knew that they'd continue to come. He could have stopped everything, he could have not given in to Ruby and she was so convincing and he was vulnerable to get sucked into those lies. He could have prevented Von's death and Alex's too if he had paid more attention and did exactly what Dean and Von had said. He should have listened but he didn't. Stupid, one minded and blind.
Hearing footsteps up above he glanced at the door that was closed though not locked. He didn't dare eat yet he knew he had to when Bobby yelled at him. The elder hunter was right, if he didn't eat he'd get out of control with him being a werewolf and they wouldn't be able to handle that. There was no way he could forget that if he tried, even with the full moon being so damn close. It was tomorrow and Von wasn't there to help him. Wasn't there to take on some of the pain but it'd be okay. It was his third full moon and the pain was lessened sure, but Von still wasn't there.
I failed. Von should still be here. Alex should still be here too but they both are dead. I failed and I shouldn't be allowed to be happy, nothing.
Blinking as tears came back he closed his eyes and his shoulders shook as the wave came crashing on him. "I'm so sorry Von...and I know you can't hear me and aren't here...I feel so horrible. I'm so damn sorry and I can't take any of it back."
Bobby walked from the desk to the kitchen to grab another bottle from his stash. He had loved and cared for Alex and Von like they were his own daughters. It hurt like the wound of losing his wife. Deep and constantly tearing back open to bleed and throb with aching clarity. Stopping just at the liquor cabinet he placed his hand on the wood while the other rested on the counter to hold him in place as he hung his head. He wouldn't cry yet it was so hard to not to. The boys were torn apart, far and hard lost to the sorrow that they were all hit with. Two losses that were both family and loved ones.
He was aware of what Alex had done, how could he not have been? It wasn't something he was proud of her but they all had their dark moments and he had forgiven her. For them to both die...how was that right? They were left with little to no explanation, except for maybe when Dean had informed them about the angels plan with Lucifer and Sam actually opening the cage he was trapped in. And what Castiel had to say about Alex being the necessary 2nd Seal to be broken before Lilith had to be the 1st. Why was she a seal? Too many questions, not enough answers to fill their cups labeled 'satisfied'.
Standing straight, he went to complete the task of gathering another bottle, succeeding and closing the cabinet he turned back to go to his desk, tearing off the wrapper to the cap as he did so. With a precarious and lazy toss he didn't care that it landed on the floor a long distance away from the garbage can. His heart went out to Sam and Dean. They were both dealing with this a lot harder than he was, but that was not to say he wasn't hitting the liquor and pit of despair any less.
Coming around the desk and to his seat he didn't go slowly or as preparing for the impact as he normally did. Instead he let the fates deal with his body as it landed with a thud and the air released from the chair before he officially sank. Rubbing his beard and down his face as he blinked to ward off any sleep...none of them had gotten much sleep as it only brought nightmares and more heartache. Trent was nowhere to be found as he disappeared the moment Bobby received the call. It was as if he couldn't handle it and needed to get away from everyone. The elder didn't blame him. No one was around anyone unless it was for the sake of necessity: eating.
Glancing down at the phones that had been silent almost as if the hunters were praying in their beds, worried that if they even made a sound to the elder that the world would end or a more likely thing for their heads to get yelled off by one drunk and not in the mood Singer. Everyone knew about Sam's mistake. Everyone. News traveled fast and trust died even faster. He uncapped the bottle, poured the liquid into his glass and set it off to the side not ready to seal it back up as he knew he'd keep going at it like Dean was no doubt doing with the rest of the cabinet god knew where. Bobby wasn't thinking about keeping track of the boys lately, only Sorcha appeared to be seen every now and then coming from either outside or the upstairs. She'd sit by him a little but always return to someone else who needed her. Never Sam though.
Poor boy got himself into a heap of shit he can't fork his way out of. And that poor dog is the one layin more on that heap.
Bringing his hazy orbs up with the glass he stopped mid drink before finishing it with a sigh at the sight of one familiar angel. He couldn't be too mad at this angel as Dean had also mentioned that Castiel was the one to bring him to the convent, albeit a little late than liked but he still did. He went against orders and couldn't go back in fear of whatever the others would do to him. So he'd been off and on and staying with them as well, more so in the tool shed than in the actual house. Bobby wasn't that friendly to give him boarding.
The angel stared at the hunter and didn't have anything to say as usual. He too remained silent in fear that he'd make matters worse. Hunted. The angels knew where he was but so far they weren't coming after him. They had many chances and none of them were taken. Something was happening or they were in fact a little too smug with themselves to completely follow through with one simple hunt. It's not like Castiel was doing anything. He was trying to find signs of where Lucifer was as to keep tabs but so far there was nothing. It was the knowledge that they should care that the Apocalypse was upon them and that at any moment the world would end as they know it.
There was one thing that was important that Castiel did know about and that was the Michael sword. One thing that would defeat Lucifer and that too he was looking for as well. He had to admit he wasn't as lazy as he thought he was being and the others were he had no doubt. And he had run into maybe one or two of his brothers and sisters, fighting them and succeeding in making it out alive. The Michael sword was simply non-existent from the findings yet it must be out there. Somewhere.
Walking away into the kitchen, the angel headed towards the backdoor. Disappearing to the sound of heavy wings and his trench coat to return to the tool shed where he could continue to contemplate where to go next, what to do next and how to still work on the line of duty. Sooner or later the three in the Singer house were going to have to fall into that same line once more. Castiel would have placed them there sooner as a preference but would rather not get his wings clipped off.
Bobby sniffed and swallowed once the angel left. He knew that Castiel meant well and that their grieving would have to come to a necessary end. But at the moment he couldn't seem to care. Right now as far as he was concerned, the world could come to an end tomorrow or the day after and so on and so forth. The more they wound up living till the next sunrise, the more he didn't expect much to happen. The more he drank and the more he sunk into his favorite desk chair.
'So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?'
The empty bottle rolled from Dean's numb fingers and he blindly reached for another knowing he had to have one stashed away somewhere beneath the seat. Hazel-green eyes red and swollen from alcohol and tears he smashed his fist against the steering wheel of the Impala when he couldn't find the whiskey. Gripping the door handle he pulled and pushed falling out onto the snow-covered ground in nothing but his shirt and jeans. Stumbling to his feet his boots crunched towards the house and he reached the first stepped before he had to lean over and throw up, catching some at the end and swallowing it back down.
Spitting the taste out his foot caught on the second last step and he stumbled onto the porch having to pick himself up again not caring that he had torn a huge hole in the knee of his jeans and bloodied his knee. Alcohol would fix that, it would fix everything. Sorcha followed behind Dean, there if needed, grieving in her own silent way but managing to stay strong for Bobby and Dean. Not Sam though, never Sam, she couldn't stand the sight of him and when she walked in on him touching some of Von's things she had bitten him and it was Dean that had to separate the two because no matter how hard Sam would hit her she would not let go and Sam nearly lost his hand because of it.
Trent left and Sorcha understood why, Trent's grief was his own and what good would it do sharing that with strangers who knew nothing about him. What good would it do to be around someone he wanted to kill for causing Von to die, it was better to leave and let them suffer long term for their sins instead of granting them the peace that death would bring. If Sorcha had thumbs she would have made sure that Sam stayed locked up in the basement where he belonged. He didn't deserve the luxury of freedom for as long as freedom would last until the end of the world mounted its toll on humanity.
Dean only came to the kitchen to grab more booze and then he would be gone again maybe to stare at Von's matte black '72 Nova or Alex's red '69 Camaro with the black racing stripes for hours on end again. They were out in the yard like some morbid memorium, they served as headstones since there were no graves because there were no bodies, they had been lost to St. Mary's convent in Ilchester, Maryland. Ripping open the foil and half the label Dean started to chug, losing the will to stand he didn't make it out of the kitchen, instead slumping against the counter by the stove to drink, using alcohol to drown in instead of sorrow. Sorcha sat by his side facing the entrance to the kitchen and welcomed his clumsy hand as it began to pet her.
Bobby glanced at Dean as he came in and when the boy went to the floor he wanted to go and comfort him. The man was nothing but a shell of what used to be and he hated to say that he was supporting a part of a lifestyle that was becoming too easy to fall into being the Winchesters. Being hunters. This time though, it was different. Sure when Sam had died that was really hard and nothing could top that in the sense of a family member, but it was different when it came to love. When it came to relationships because it made that pain stay longer. The memories of happiness no longer memories but haunting slide shows forever repeating in one's head.
Swallowing, he knew too well. Sam was blaming himself, and hell Bobby wanted to blame him because he was partly to blame, but he wasn't the full reason. Alex had chosen to go with Ruby, chosen to be on that side of the fighting line because she thought the same things Sam did. That it would end suffering and be the better option without the others getting hurt. They all made foolish choices...a lot of those choices got people dead. Watching Dean as he pet Sorcha without even so much as thinking about it, it was a distraction, something to do while his mind wandered to dangerous and morbid places.
"Ya should get somethin' to eat. I'm not havin ya starve," Bobby said, standing up and heading into the kitchen, going to the fridge and opening it to see what he had. Finding some cold pizza it was going to have to do. Pulling that out he grabbed two slices before giving the box over to the hunter, laying it beside him as he knew that Dean wasn't about to grab it as an offering. "If ya don't I'll force feed ya..." A beat. "Mind seein' to that your brother eats as well. I'm goin' to try and...get some rest..."
The elder hunter moved towards the stairs, patting Sorcha on the head as he did, taking the bottle from his desk with him before he ascended the steps. He would try but he might as well take one of the sleeping pills he had for those special occasions when sleep came rare and few between.
Dean ignored the pizza; he hadn't eaten anything for the better part of the week, why would he start now. Alcohol filled his stomach and in his mind that was all he needed and wanted aside from the obvious. He sat there a good while longer letting the silence of the house consume him and his thoughts. The wind outside was shrill and harsh scratching against the house like a dead seagull; he listened to it crying as if it was trying to tell him something.
Unable to take much more of the sound, Dean climbed to his feet remembering to take the pizza with him. Trudging out of the kitchen he entered the hallway and descended the stairs into the basement surprisingly sure footed. Time to feed the monster only because he had to otherwise the six foot four beast would become ravenous and less human.
Like there's any human left in him, Dean thought as he opened the door with the toe of his boot and let it swing back to reveal his brother to him.
"Food," his gravelly voice announced and he unceremoniously tossed the box into the room to land on the floor, eyeing the state of Sam with his apathetic blood shot eyes.
Dean leaned against the door as he chugged down more whiskey and wiped his wet lips on the back of his hand that held the bottle. Sam was going to turn furry tomorrow and if he got out Dean just might have the alcohol-induced nerve to shoot him. He had never said it out loud and probably never would but this whole mess was Sam's fault and he knew that Sam knew it too. Alex made her own choices and he couldn't blame Sam for that, it wouldn't have made it any easier.
It wasn't easy to begin with, Sam had betrayed everyone and gotten the second love of his life killed because of his selfish arrogance. Because of it Dean had a hard time keeping eye contact with Sam, he couldn't deal with staring at his little brother and what he had become. The little brother he swore to look out for had ripped his heart out and stomped on it, after everything he turned his back on his family, trusting a demon over his own brother and over the one woman who might have been his soul mate.
Sam continued to stare at the floor, he knew his brother was giving him that look as he leaned, drank and watched. The one that said it was his fault and everything and more. He couldn't take that, the silence and that look and he placed his head in his hands, silent tears falling and his shoulders shook. It wasn't the matter that he didn't want Dean to see, it was the matter that he couldn't control it. He didn't care anymore if they saw. Sam even wondered why Dean didn't kill him. He should have. And maybe if he had the guts he'd do it to himself, walk out and grab a silver loaded gun and put it right at his heart and...
"Thanks," he said, bringing his face away and wiping away the tears.
Kill me Dean. I know you want to. Why don't you just do it? Then that way the world would be better without me there to possibly screw it up again. You'd be happier! Like some form of justice for what I've done. DO IT! I'm a monster.
"Lock me in Dean and don't feed me anymore."
Ignoring a rule of thumb by Bobby. I don't want to eat. I don't deserve to eat. Maybe I should just become the animal that I am. That way I could be on display for all the hunters that pass through, showcase and say that 'this is Sam the one that got two hunters killed and freed the Devil from his cage'. Who wants to take a shot? Five bucks and you get to take me home and skin and mount on the wall. I'm only ever good on the wall as someone's coat.
Bringing his head up when Dean took another swig he growled, knowing his brother wasn't going to disobey feeding him. "I said lock the door and don't feed me anymore. Now go. Leave me alone."
Sam stood and took the food that Dean had given him, tossing it back at the hunter and knew that he looked like a wreck. Sorcha didn't care. Why would Dean care? Why should anyone care? This time instead of disguising it he fell to his knees, hands going to the bed as another wave hit him. Von. She would have cared. She would have cared a great deal if he died or starved. She was dead. It was his fault. Yet there was one thing he knew that Dean would never do despite the thought...that was kill him. Death would be a sweet release and maybe even bring him to Hell to suffer. But living on earth and having his own neglect from everyone around him and personal Hell with how he was treating himself was the type of thing death could not satisfy.
"Oh god Von..." he whispered. "I'm sorry..."
Overhearing Sam, Dean's chest ached in a way that alcohol wouldn't be able to chase away, he might have been blind drunk but he wasn't deaf. Sam's crying reminded him of a four-year old Sammy who had fallen and scraped his knee, Dean had been there for him to pick him up and dust him off. As much as his chest ached he couldn't be there for Sam like he used to be. A band-aid and some bacteria wipes wouldn't fix this. Dean's face hardened and he threw the pizza back into the panic room not caring when the box flew open and pizza landed all over the floor. If Sam got hungry enough he could lick it off the concrete, Dean watched on as Sam sobbed in a tiny little ball as he drank.
Sorcha watched as well, accompanying Dean in case Sam became a problem, she was able to empathize with Sam but was still far too angry to lend him any comfort. The wounds of betrayal were deep and would not soon heal. Dean gripped the door and put his weight behind it to slam it closed, cranking the handle to lock it tight. If Sam wanted to be locked up then he would get his wish, they could tranquilize him to put more food in or get Castiel to angel zap it in there. Without Von Bobby would have to werewolf proof the room or maybe Castiel would know a way to reinforce the vent and door to keep Sam locked up safe and tight. Dragging his feet up the stairs Dean dropped to the couch in the study drinking himself to unwanted sleep.
Hearing the door slam, hearing him go back up the stairs, he ignored the food. Though the smell was enough to make his mouth water he wouldn't eat it. If he wanted to eat it, he'd eat it when he was in wolf form no doubt as the hunger wouldn't be able to be ignored yet he liked to think he could still hold off on it. Turning his head to the pizza he willed it to disappear. That was another thing. He had been so pumped up on demon blood that already he had been feeling the withdrawl of it. So it made his hunger worse and made it so then he was just a tad irritable.
Pizza, normal food, wasn't what he was really hungry for. It was the blood or blood in general, things were starting to mesh and he wasn't sure which anymore. Lying down on the concrete flooring he closed his eyes, wished to at least get some sleep, opening them he without thought rushed over to the food, picking it up and eating it, whether it was contaminated or not. Sam growled and tore into it, stuffing his mouth full of it needing more and his orbs amber as he chewed and swallowed.
A howl rippling from his throat to echo in the room, sliding up through the fan and into the night. His eyes staring at it and he swore he could see the moon despite that it was still light outside, despite that it was still far away from night approaching. He huffed and went back to his meal, the noise drifting up and sounding as if a wild animal was feasting on its prey.
Dean woke from his discomforting slumber at Sam's howl and he rubbed his bloodshot eyes open pushing himself up into a sitting position. Sitting quietly he listened and could faintly hear the sounds of eating, Dean knew he would eat because even though a distressed animal may shy away from food sooner or later the hunger would become too much, Dean didn't know that much about wolves but he knew a dog would never starve itself to death. A werewolf was no exception because their hunger knew no limits, they were all the best parts of a wolf and all the worst parts of a human melded into a perfect monster.
Another thought that Dean would never speak aloud was that maybe they were wrong when they didn't kill Sam, the moment he was infected they should have. Dean scrubbed his hand down his face and kept it there, fresh tears squeezing from his eyes without cause. He swallowed down hard and took in a shaky breath wanting another round of burning alcohol to make an excuse for the tears staining his cheeks. The whiskey scalded his throat and he wiped the dribble off his chin, there would come a time when the alcohol wouldn't do so much as give him a buzz until then he would drink whenever it suited him. It was likely destroying his liver but it wasn't like he had hopes to live past fifty anyway.
Sam finished eating. Licking the floor and his fingers clean along with the box it came in. It wasn't enough to fully sate him and the moment the hunger subsided, he just held onto being a wolf. He knew very well that he could change a day before the full moon and still be affected but the moon wouldn't be able to force him if he was already willing to accept that form. Beginning to undress, he piled the clothes off to the side before he let the changes take place. His spine rippling and it was painful, crying as he did so. It was different changing without Von there to take some of it which meant it hurt a lot more than the other times.
Finally in the form he wished to be in he began to eat the left over portions his body left behind. Licking his lips, he whimpered and curled into a ball, his mouth opening a little to let out the whimpers more. It hurt more being in this form, maybe that was why he had did this ahead of time. He could still be hurt by the moon when it happened even being in this form tomorrow night. But it hurt because the pain was still there and the knowledge of being a wolf that his mate was now gone. Mate's were meant to be forever mourned. His mouth opened more and the whimper turned into a small yelps in succession before quieting back to whimpers and a small howl.
Glancing at the door he knew that Dean could hear him and he wished he didn't have to. Sam couldn't control his emotions and how sad he felt as it overtook him. It was worse than hunger and it was worse than smelling blood and needing to have it. Which is why he wasn't falling into the deep pit of hunger for blood as he should have been. The sadness was too much, but eventually even that would little itself and he'd be overrun with the sensation. Closing his eyes silent tears fell from the corners and down the fur on his face to the concrete.
Dean wanted to shout down, stomp his boot anything to get Sam to shut up like he was yelling at a dog that was acting up he'd even take a pot shot at whipping the whiskey bottle at his younger brother's head. He had heard him change and wanted to throw up from all the sounds, at least he wasn't witness to it this time he wasn't sure he could stomach the sight of Sam's flesh splitting and falling off to give way to a hulking fur covered monster underneath.
Standing he had to get out of the house away from the animal sounds of sorrow and pain otherwise he'd be led down a rash and regretful path. The cold that had picked up bit into his skin like razor wire and for a while it was better than Sam's howls of agony and pain. Blindly wondering through the yard with Sorcha at his side he let more tears fall, the tiny droplets freezing into crystals on his eyelashes and cheeks.
Alex would be there teasing him, calling him a girl, well the old Alex would, the new one that liked to try to rape everyone would probably try to fuck him out here in the frigid cold to make him feel better. In the state he was in he'd be ready to take her either way, Dean would rather Alex was alive to be yelled at and to fight with than dead and mourned. And he'd take Von too, alive and fiery so she could beat the crap out of Sam for what he had done.