alwaysenduphere (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alwaysenduphere) wrote2009-05-06 11:47 pm
alwaysenduphere) wrote2009-05-06 11:47 pm
Entry tags:
fic: i was me but now he's gone (gen, r)
I wrote fic! I know, it doesn't happen that often! And I'm posting it to this journal and not that other one!
This is no happy story, that's fo' sho. I'd like to say I don't know where this came from, but that'd be a lie. I knew I'd end up writing something the moment I watched the episode, I just didn't realize it'd be this.
And hey, it coincides with my new header. :) Anyway, onto the fic:
i was me but now he's gone
by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkmerrick/Carleen
gen, r
740 words
spoilers for 4.19.
not a happy story by any means. title swiped from a line in Fade to Black by Metallica.
beta'ed bybridget_x_alena
not my characters, just playing with them.
comments make me gleeful. :)
The burning fades to tingling, the brightness fades to black, everything goes away. The ghouls poke and prod into his body, but he focuses on the tingling, on the blackness reaching sooner. He still struggles, knowing it's futile and knowing that every movement makes his wrists bleed further. Giving up isn't the Winchester way. Is it?
He can hear the sounds of Dean pounding into the ghouls, the fight around him. Feels the blood rushing out of his body, wonders if Dean's going to be victorious in time to rescue him. Because that's who Dean is, who Dean will always be, Sam's savior, knight in shinin’ armor to the rescue. Bullshit, Sam thinks.
The pain's more of a dull ache now, he realizes, the world fading to grey. It's not the first time he's experienced the sensation of blood rushing out his wrists, flashback to over four years ago, shaky hands in a dorm bathroom with a dull razorblade crashing to the floor bloody, but he wasn't trying hard enough then. Then he was just lost, looking back into a lifetime he didn’t know he’d miss until he’d walked away from it. Now he sees white, sees his proverbial life flash before his eyes, sounds of Dean coming toward him, "Hey, Sammy, lemme getcha..." and then his mind is elsewhere for a moment, a glimpse of blond hair and a father’s smile flash into frame.
"Sit up, Sammy." Dean puts on the towels and Sam feels the burning again, zeroes back in on the situation at hand. His arms are all bloody now, his jeans a bit, too.
Not even my blood, he thinks. Is any I have left even my own? Weakness through his body, but is it from blood loss or just loss? The difference so subtle and yet so powerful. Maybe I can stop now, he thinks, maybe if I let all the blood out, start fresh again, maybe then things can go back. Back to what? Back when I couldn’t save my brother? He shoves Dean's hand away, feebly, mumbles an excuse about the pain, but Dean holds fast to the cloth, applies pressure and takes care of his Sammy like he always has.
“Let it go," Sam fumbles, scenes of exorcising demons, drinking blood, Ruby in his bed, Lilith at his feet flashing before his eyes. "Let me go," stumbles off the bed, howls as Dean's hands get ripped from his wrists, bloody rags falling to the floor. "It needs to come out. It all needs out. No more," he stumbles tumbling to the floor and lands directly in front of a bowl full of blood. His blood, Ruby's blood. All mixed. "Don’t you see, Dean? S'not mine anymore. Doesn't belong to me."
And of course Dean's looking at him, trying to comprehend and not grasping and Sam doesn't have a clue how to articulate all the thoughts floating through the haze in his head. And then he's falling more and Dean's grabbing him and sitting him on the table, the table he was tied down to--why can't he just stay tied to the table? Blood draining, poison leaving. Never should've done this, should've listened to Dean, gotta get revenge, gotta be like Dad, power, power, power, coursing through his head, through his veins.
"Got to stop," he says, and suddenly Dean's wrapping his arms in gauze.Gauze that appeared from where? Dean has the whole first aid kit now and Sam's starting to realize he's losing it, knocks Dean's hands away and grabs his shoulders. Clenching his hands around them pulls at the skin on his wrists, droplets of blood still sliding out around the gauze. Does his damndest to be coherent. "The blood, Dean. It's not mine."
And Dean cocks his head, makes a curt nod like he understands, but Sam's sure he still doesn't. And sure enough, "It's okay, Sammy. Get you fixed up and get out of here, we'll figure it out." And then he's helping Sam to his feet, steadying him to the car and Sam's leaning into the passenger seat and the world's once again fading to black. He fleetingly muses that it's probably not good to pass out three times in as many minutes, starts to say as such to Dean, glancing over at Dean glancing back, but then the world's fading and all he sees is red. "I need it," the voice in his head whispers.
This is no happy story, that's fo' sho. I'd like to say I don't know where this came from, but that'd be a lie. I knew I'd end up writing something the moment I watched the episode, I just didn't realize it'd be this.
And hey, it coincides with my new header. :) Anyway, onto the fic:
i was me but now he's gone
by
darkmerrick/Carleengen, r
740 words
spoilers for 4.19.
not a happy story by any means. title swiped from a line in Fade to Black by Metallica.
beta'ed by
bridget_x_alenanot my characters, just playing with them.
comments make me gleeful. :)
The burning fades to tingling, the brightness fades to black, everything goes away. The ghouls poke and prod into his body, but he focuses on the tingling, on the blackness reaching sooner. He still struggles, knowing it's futile and knowing that every movement makes his wrists bleed further. Giving up isn't the Winchester way. Is it?
He can hear the sounds of Dean pounding into the ghouls, the fight around him. Feels the blood rushing out of his body, wonders if Dean's going to be victorious in time to rescue him. Because that's who Dean is, who Dean will always be, Sam's savior, knight in shinin’ armor to the rescue. Bullshit, Sam thinks.
The pain's more of a dull ache now, he realizes, the world fading to grey. It's not the first time he's experienced the sensation of blood rushing out his wrists, flashback to over four years ago, shaky hands in a dorm bathroom with a dull razorblade crashing to the floor bloody, but he wasn't trying hard enough then. Then he was just lost, looking back into a lifetime he didn’t know he’d miss until he’d walked away from it. Now he sees white, sees his proverbial life flash before his eyes, sounds of Dean coming toward him, "Hey, Sammy, lemme getcha..." and then his mind is elsewhere for a moment, a glimpse of blond hair and a father’s smile flash into frame.
"Sit up, Sammy." Dean puts on the towels and Sam feels the burning again, zeroes back in on the situation at hand. His arms are all bloody now, his jeans a bit, too.
Not even my blood, he thinks. Is any I have left even my own? Weakness through his body, but is it from blood loss or just loss? The difference so subtle and yet so powerful. Maybe I can stop now, he thinks, maybe if I let all the blood out, start fresh again, maybe then things can go back. Back to what? Back when I couldn’t save my brother? He shoves Dean's hand away, feebly, mumbles an excuse about the pain, but Dean holds fast to the cloth, applies pressure and takes care of his Sammy like he always has.
“Let it go," Sam fumbles, scenes of exorcising demons, drinking blood, Ruby in his bed, Lilith at his feet flashing before his eyes. "Let me go," stumbles off the bed, howls as Dean's hands get ripped from his wrists, bloody rags falling to the floor. "It needs to come out. It all needs out. No more," he stumbles tumbling to the floor and lands directly in front of a bowl full of blood. His blood, Ruby's blood. All mixed. "Don’t you see, Dean? S'not mine anymore. Doesn't belong to me."
And of course Dean's looking at him, trying to comprehend and not grasping and Sam doesn't have a clue how to articulate all the thoughts floating through the haze in his head. And then he's falling more and Dean's grabbing him and sitting him on the table, the table he was tied down to--why can't he just stay tied to the table? Blood draining, poison leaving. Never should've done this, should've listened to Dean, gotta get revenge, gotta be like Dad, power, power, power, coursing through his head, through his veins.
"Got to stop," he says, and suddenly Dean's wrapping his arms in gauze.Gauze that appeared from where? Dean has the whole first aid kit now and Sam's starting to realize he's losing it, knocks Dean's hands away and grabs his shoulders. Clenching his hands around them pulls at the skin on his wrists, droplets of blood still sliding out around the gauze. Does his damndest to be coherent. "The blood, Dean. It's not mine."
And Dean cocks his head, makes a curt nod like he understands, but Sam's sure he still doesn't. And sure enough, "It's okay, Sammy. Get you fixed up and get out of here, we'll figure it out." And then he's helping Sam to his feet, steadying him to the car and Sam's leaning into the passenger seat and the world's once again fading to black. He fleetingly muses that it's probably not good to pass out three times in as many minutes, starts to say as such to Dean, glancing over at Dean glancing back, but then the world's fading and all he sees is red. "I need it," the voice in his head whispers.
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Your new header is awesome btw! ;D
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Thanks! :D
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Love, Robin
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thank you! its not often i feel like i can write anything worthwhile but when it happens, it beats me over the head until, like this, it gets posted, lol.
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newby here
Re: newby here
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Btw, I'm following you on Twitter but I'm not sure you're getting my replies (CaitlinMF).
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Huh. Wonder why not. Maybe it's cuz of the protected thing? IDK. But I'm following you now, anyway, lol.
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Interesting take on things. I enjoyed it. As much as I like the longer story arcs, I do enjoy little snippets like this :)
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