Supernatural fic:The Hollow Man 1/1 [PG-13] Sam - 6.06 coda
Title: The Hollow Man
Rating: PG-13 for canon violence
Characters: Sam
Spoilers: up to & incl. 6.06
Notes: Coda to 6.06. Sam POV.
This takes place in the space between what we know and what we don't. It is not intended to be accurate, just to be one possible take.
If I can manage it, I may take a stab at a Dean POV before Friday.
And BTW, what demon do I have to make a deal with to make Friday come faster?
11/01/10 09:59:11 PM
The Hollow Man
The words poured out of Sam's lips, glib, simple.
There's something wrong with me... I've known for a while...
It didn't hurt to admit it.
The truth felt exactly the same as a lie.
It wasn't that Sam didn't know the difference. It was clear, clear as crystal. There were lies, and there was the truth. He'd lied to Dean. It was easy to make that choice because Sam could figure out, usually, when the truth would endanger what he had to do. What he needed to do.
The need wasn't a feeling. It was more like a drive. The problem was, it was blind. It pushed him forward, but never let him see where he was going.
He hadn't thought about what would happen when Dean found out Sam had been lying.
He really hadn't thought it was important.
Because... he figured he'd told about seventy percent truth. Not that many lies. And nothing that didn't have a reason.
The vamp thing... that had been a miscalculation. He hadn't meant to put Lisa in danger, or Ben. Sam thought he would have regretted that, probably. He wasn't here to hurt people.
He was here to hunt. Hunting was good, it was the right thing to do. John Winchester had drilled that into his sons. Sam vaguely remembered that he'd resisted it, but he couldn't really remember so much why. He knew he'd been angry about it, but he couldn't find that anger any more.
That was good thing, right?
Anger was bad.
Sam needed to hunt. And he had done, for nearly a year. He'd been honing his skills, getting better and better.
And Dean had been safe, with his new family.
Then the djinn clan had come after Dean, and Sam hadn't had any choice, had he?
But Dean didn't need to know that Sam wondered these days what was wrong with him.
In fact, seeing Dean, Sam had.. had...
He knew he should feel something.
Somewhere, deep inside, he'd begun to have the idea that maybe Dean was the missing piece.
It's better with you, Dean.
That was truth. A funny kind of truth. A truth Sam could - almost - feel.
It fascinated him.
With Dean there, things felt... right. Felt right in that distant way you could feel the tug of a tooth being pulled, even past the Novocaine.
Maybe it was nothing more than the easement of an old habit, resumed after absence.
Whatever it was, though, it was important.
Sam realized, as his brother's fist smashed into his face over, and over, that he'd miscalculated again.
He hadn't done it right. Now Dean was angry. Dean wanted to kill him in his sleep.
Dean wouldn't do that. Dean would never kill him, would he?
Before Sam blacked out under those pounding fists, he wondered if Dean might really do it.
Wondered if he was ever going to wake up.
There wasn't any fear.
No sadness, no betrayal.
There was a kind of vague disappointment. Because he'd done it wrong, and he might never know what it was like again.
To feel fear.
To feel love.
To feel apprehension, anger, disgust, happiness, joy.
Dean might just kill him now.
Sam wondered if it would hurt.
A little later, Sam woke up.
For a while he just stayed still. His eyes were closed, and there was a chair under him. He could feel ropes.
Dean would have taken his knife.
After a while, his eyes drifted open. He knew where to look, he could hear Dean breathing. It sounded harsh.
Dean was drinking again. He really should try to cut back on that. Cirrhosis of the liver was a bad way to go.
Sam watched his brother quietly.
He wondered if Dean would torture him now.
There was nothing to do but wait and see.
10:25:15 PM
~
♦ season 6 codas
Rating: PG-13 for canon violence
Characters: Sam
Spoilers: up to & incl. 6.06
Notes: Coda to 6.06. Sam POV.
This takes place in the space between what we know and what we don't. It is not intended to be accurate, just to be one possible take.
If I can manage it, I may take a stab at a Dean POV before Friday.
And BTW, what demon do I have to make a deal with to make Friday come faster?
11/01/10 09:59:11 PM
The Hollow Man
The words poured out of Sam's lips, glib, simple.
There's something wrong with me... I've known for a while...
It didn't hurt to admit it.
The truth felt exactly the same as a lie.
It wasn't that Sam didn't know the difference. It was clear, clear as crystal. There were lies, and there was the truth. He'd lied to Dean. It was easy to make that choice because Sam could figure out, usually, when the truth would endanger what he had to do. What he needed to do.
The need wasn't a feeling. It was more like a drive. The problem was, it was blind. It pushed him forward, but never let him see where he was going.
He hadn't thought about what would happen when Dean found out Sam had been lying.
He really hadn't thought it was important.
Because... he figured he'd told about seventy percent truth. Not that many lies. And nothing that didn't have a reason.
The vamp thing... that had been a miscalculation. He hadn't meant to put Lisa in danger, or Ben. Sam thought he would have regretted that, probably. He wasn't here to hurt people.
He was here to hunt. Hunting was good, it was the right thing to do. John Winchester had drilled that into his sons. Sam vaguely remembered that he'd resisted it, but he couldn't really remember so much why. He knew he'd been angry about it, but he couldn't find that anger any more.
That was good thing, right?
Anger was bad.
Sam needed to hunt. And he had done, for nearly a year. He'd been honing his skills, getting better and better.
And Dean had been safe, with his new family.
Then the djinn clan had come after Dean, and Sam hadn't had any choice, had he?
But Dean didn't need to know that Sam wondered these days what was wrong with him.
In fact, seeing Dean, Sam had.. had...
He knew he should feel something.
Somewhere, deep inside, he'd begun to have the idea that maybe Dean was the missing piece.
It's better with you, Dean.
That was truth. A funny kind of truth. A truth Sam could - almost - feel.
It fascinated him.
With Dean there, things felt... right. Felt right in that distant way you could feel the tug of a tooth being pulled, even past the Novocaine.
Maybe it was nothing more than the easement of an old habit, resumed after absence.
Whatever it was, though, it was important.
Sam realized, as his brother's fist smashed into his face over, and over, that he'd miscalculated again.
He hadn't done it right. Now Dean was angry. Dean wanted to kill him in his sleep.
Dean wouldn't do that. Dean would never kill him, would he?
Before Sam blacked out under those pounding fists, he wondered if Dean might really do it.
Wondered if he was ever going to wake up.
There wasn't any fear.
No sadness, no betrayal.
There was a kind of vague disappointment. Because he'd done it wrong, and he might never know what it was like again.
To feel fear.
To feel love.
To feel apprehension, anger, disgust, happiness, joy.
Dean might just kill him now.
Sam wondered if it would hurt.
A little later, Sam woke up.
For a while he just stayed still. His eyes were closed, and there was a chair under him. He could feel ropes.
Dean would have taken his knife.
After a while, his eyes drifted open. He knew where to look, he could hear Dean breathing. It sounded harsh.
Dean was drinking again. He really should try to cut back on that. Cirrhosis of the liver was a bad way to go.
Sam watched his brother quietly.
He wondered if Dean would torture him now.
There was nothing to do but wait and see.
10:25:15 PM
~
♦ season 6 codas