(no subject)
And this is my second entry for the hurt/comfort comment meme at spn-hurtcomfort.
Title: It All Comes Back To You
Author: Lissa
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Characters: Dean, Sam
Summary/Prompt: Post 4x18. Sam falls apart and tries to kill himself because of the events of the past months. He doesn't want to go darkside, and believes he will because of Dean's comment about it.
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean aren't real, right? Then neither is this story. I'm playing in Kripke's sandbox.
A/N: Um, this one wound up a little more intense than I thought.
-----
For Sam, it's always been knives.
When Dean was learning how to aim and shoot and clean guns, Sam was sharpening knives, getting used to hand to hand combat. Dean liked not having to get close, being able to take things out from a good distance. But it was Sam who learned to appreciate what a knife could do.
And what it could do for him now.
You think I'll do it, don't you? You think I'll go darkside.
Yes! Okay, yes. The way you've been acting lately, the things you've been doing. Oh, I know. How you ripped Alistair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly. Cas told me, okay?
What else did he tell you?
Nothing I don't already know. That you've been using your psychic crap and you've been getting stronger, we just don't know why and we don't know how.
It's not what you think.
Then what is it, Sam? 'Cause I'm at a total loss.
He and Lilith had hit an impasse. Sam thought about making a deal, even made her think that he was going to go through with it. In the end, it was Chuck and his archangel that ended things, not Sam. And Lilith had gotten away.
Dean left the room after the confrontation, silent and angry. Sam knew he was probably going to go get drunk off his ass so that he could forget the last 24 hours, which left Sam with way too much time on his hands to contemplate his recent failures.
Dean, who had believed for so long that he could keep Sam safe, that he could keep from going darkside, now admitted that yes, he thought Sam's demon blood would change him into something he should never be. He had failed trying to kill Lilith. He had failed at being honest with his brother and just being a brother. He'd failed by giving into the temptation and drinking Ruby's blood. He was a failure and worse yet, he was a burden.
Sam took his favorite hunting knife out of his duffel and removed it from the sheath. He played with it a little, twirling it around. He pointed the tip to his left wrist and lightly drew it from palm to elbow, barely even leaving a mark.
It's not like he hasn't thought about this before. When Dean refused to kill him, the thought raced through his head. He should have done it back then, before everything had fallen apart.
It was really the only acceptable action at this point. He couldn't continue to put Dean through this, and Dean pretty much didn't need him anymore. He had Cas. Cas would look after him and keep him safe, better than Sam could. It was time now for Sam to just slip away.
He grabbed his knife, found the medical kit and went into the bathroom. He stared into his dull, lifeless eyes in the mirror, then down at his wrists. He opened the med kit and pulled out some topical lidocaine, covering the inside of his lower arms and waited for the medication to numb his skin. He started to run a bath, as hot as he could stand it. He stripped, and then hesitated, just for a moment.
He took two sleeping pills from the bottle in the med kit, then started with his right wrist. He knew that would be the most difficult because he was right handed. He had enough practice, though, that he was able to cut a relatively straight line up his arm. He watched as the blood began to run down his arm into the sink. He didn't even feel the knife in his arm, which he knew would happen. Part of him felt like he shouldn't have used the lidocaine, that he deserved the hurt that the knife would cause, but this was better. No feeling. No feelings inside him and no feeling in the end. He cut his left arm, a neat, straight cut. He slowly got into the bathtub, not able to fully stretch out because of his size. He crossed his legs and submerged his arms to speed up the bleeding. The water began turning pink almost immediately. He tipped his head back onto the tile and closed his eyes. Soon, it would be all over.
Dean had been out for two hours, drinking, trying to forget what was happening, trying to bury everything. He sat at the bar, mulling over what he had said to Sam. The words telling Sam that yes, he thought Sam was going to go darkside came out of his mouth without thinking. He was scared, things were moving too fast. He wanted to believe Sam in the worst way. Regardless of what was going on, Sam was still his brother. He paid his bar tab and headed back to the motel.
When Dean opened the door, he saw Sam's duffel on the bed, but didn't see him in the room. He looked over and saw the bathroom door closed. He knocked on the door. "Sam?" Silence. "Sammy?" He knocked on the door as he called him. When there was still no answer, he tried the knob. The door was unlocked. He opened the door and frozen for a moment with what he saw. He ran over to the side of the tub and started to shake Sam. "Sammy? Sammy, c'mon, dude, open up your eyes." Sam's head rolled from side to side. Dean reached up and felt for Sam's pulse, which was a little sluggish, but was there. Dean realized he didn't have much time to waste. He pulled Sam out of he tub with difficulty and dragged him over to the bed Sam normally took. "God damn it, Sam." Dean debated whether he should call an ambulance or not. In the end, he felt he didn't have a choice; he had no idea what Sam had taken or how long it would take for him to wake up. He also needed more stitches than Dean thought he could finish in time. He worked quickly to staunch the bleeding from both arms, and waited for the ambulance.
It took longer than Dean thought it would for the ambulance to arrive. They drilled him with questions while they made sure Sam's airway was clear and started IVs. They loaded Sam onto the gurney and Dean grabbed his keys to follow in the Impala.
Dean took the time to register Sam at the hospital, despite the fact that he wanted to be beside Sam. They kept Dean in the waiting room for over two hours. Every time he saw a nurse, he tried to see if he could get any information, but no one would tell him anything. Finally, a doctor came out of the ER door. "Dean…Marchand?"
"Yes?"
"Your brother Sam is stable. We've sutured his arms - he's going to have scars, no doubt about it. We don't know what he took, so we're pumping his stomach as we speak to make sure to nullify any overdose he took."
"Is he conscious?"
"Not yet. You're welcome to come in, though if you'd like."
Dean nodded and followed the doctor to Sam's room. Sam was on the stretcher, eyes closed. He was hooked up to monitors, beeps counting out his heartbeats. A tube had been inserted in his nose. Dean had no idea what that was for, but his heart broke a little when he saw Sam lying there so still.
It felt like an eternity before he heard Sam began to cough and opened his eyes. He looked around panicked, not sure where he was or who was around him. Finally his eyes fixed on Dean briefly before dropping his head to avoid that look on Dean's face.
"God damn it, Sam. What the fuck?"
"Dean, don't," Sam whispered. "Just let it go."
"Let it go?! LET IT GO?!" Dean stood and began to pace in the small room. "What if I had decided to stay later at the bar? What if I decided to go home with someone?"
"Then I wouldn't be here, just like it was meant to be."
"NO! It's NOT meant to be like that."
"C'mon, Dean. If the choices are dead or darkside, we all know what the option is."
"You're not going to go darkside. I won't let you."
Sam snorted. "That's funny. Last time I talked to you, you said I was going to turn."
Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed. He sat down next to Sam and took his hand. "Sammy, I didn't mean it. I was scared and angry and I took it out on you."
"But you've been thinking it. You never would have said it if you hadn't been thinking about it."
He gripped Sam's hand tighter. "Yes, it's crossed my mind," Dean said quietly. "That still doesn't mean it has to happen, Sam."
"But you're afraid of me now."
"Sammy, I'm afraid for you. I know what you've done, dude, and I know that it makes you feel powerful, but you've got to know what you're doing isn't right."
"Can we not have a morals lesson right now?"
"Please promise me you won't do this again."
Sam looked down.
"Sammy, please. I…I can't do it again. I can't. I've got nothing left to make a deal with, and I can't watch you die again. I'd follow right behind you, dude, Cas and Zachariah be damned."
"Cas'll take care of you. He'll make sure nothing happens."
"He's not you, Sammy. Who's gonna fight beside me? Who's gonna cover my ass when I need it?"
Sam sat quietly and looked at his hands, folded on top of the blanket. "You don't trust me."
"Sammy, c'mon. I was angry at you for being reckless and taking Lilith on without backup and I was scared she was going to annihilate you. It's the same as it's always been, though. You're my little brother and if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna save you. No matter what. I promise you that." He took Sam's chin in his hand and pulled Sam's head up. "Look at me, Sam." He had trouble meeting Dean's eyes. "You listen, and you listen to me good. This NEVER happens again. NEVER. Bottom line is, I can't live without you. Please don't make me."
Sam nodded. "How 'bout we see if we can get me out of here."
"Promise me, Sam."
Sam took a deep breath. "I promise."
"Was that so hard?"
"Yeah, it was. I don't want to hurt you, Dean."
"You won't. I won't let you." He ran his hand through his hair. "Now, c'mon. Enough of these chick-flick moments. I'll be right back."
Sam watched Dean leave the room. He hoped his brother was right. He really hoped his brother could save him.
Title: It All Comes Back To You
Author: Lissa
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Characters: Dean, Sam
Summary/Prompt: Post 4x18. Sam falls apart and tries to kill himself because of the events of the past months. He doesn't want to go darkside, and believes he will because of Dean's comment about it.
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean aren't real, right? Then neither is this story. I'm playing in Kripke's sandbox.
A/N: Um, this one wound up a little more intense than I thought.
-----
For Sam, it's always been knives.
When Dean was learning how to aim and shoot and clean guns, Sam was sharpening knives, getting used to hand to hand combat. Dean liked not having to get close, being able to take things out from a good distance. But it was Sam who learned to appreciate what a knife could do.
And what it could do for him now.
You think I'll do it, don't you? You think I'll go darkside.
Yes! Okay, yes. The way you've been acting lately, the things you've been doing. Oh, I know. How you ripped Alistair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly. Cas told me, okay?
What else did he tell you?
Nothing I don't already know. That you've been using your psychic crap and you've been getting stronger, we just don't know why and we don't know how.
It's not what you think.
Then what is it, Sam? 'Cause I'm at a total loss.
He and Lilith had hit an impasse. Sam thought about making a deal, even made her think that he was going to go through with it. In the end, it was Chuck and his archangel that ended things, not Sam. And Lilith had gotten away.
Dean left the room after the confrontation, silent and angry. Sam knew he was probably going to go get drunk off his ass so that he could forget the last 24 hours, which left Sam with way too much time on his hands to contemplate his recent failures.
Dean, who had believed for so long that he could keep Sam safe, that he could keep from going darkside, now admitted that yes, he thought Sam's demon blood would change him into something he should never be. He had failed trying to kill Lilith. He had failed at being honest with his brother and just being a brother. He'd failed by giving into the temptation and drinking Ruby's blood. He was a failure and worse yet, he was a burden.
Sam took his favorite hunting knife out of his duffel and removed it from the sheath. He played with it a little, twirling it around. He pointed the tip to his left wrist and lightly drew it from palm to elbow, barely even leaving a mark.
It's not like he hasn't thought about this before. When Dean refused to kill him, the thought raced through his head. He should have done it back then, before everything had fallen apart.
It was really the only acceptable action at this point. He couldn't continue to put Dean through this, and Dean pretty much didn't need him anymore. He had Cas. Cas would look after him and keep him safe, better than Sam could. It was time now for Sam to just slip away.
He grabbed his knife, found the medical kit and went into the bathroom. He stared into his dull, lifeless eyes in the mirror, then down at his wrists. He opened the med kit and pulled out some topical lidocaine, covering the inside of his lower arms and waited for the medication to numb his skin. He started to run a bath, as hot as he could stand it. He stripped, and then hesitated, just for a moment.
He took two sleeping pills from the bottle in the med kit, then started with his right wrist. He knew that would be the most difficult because he was right handed. He had enough practice, though, that he was able to cut a relatively straight line up his arm. He watched as the blood began to run down his arm into the sink. He didn't even feel the knife in his arm, which he knew would happen. Part of him felt like he shouldn't have used the lidocaine, that he deserved the hurt that the knife would cause, but this was better. No feeling. No feelings inside him and no feeling in the end. He cut his left arm, a neat, straight cut. He slowly got into the bathtub, not able to fully stretch out because of his size. He crossed his legs and submerged his arms to speed up the bleeding. The water began turning pink almost immediately. He tipped his head back onto the tile and closed his eyes. Soon, it would be all over.
Dean had been out for two hours, drinking, trying to forget what was happening, trying to bury everything. He sat at the bar, mulling over what he had said to Sam. The words telling Sam that yes, he thought Sam was going to go darkside came out of his mouth without thinking. He was scared, things were moving too fast. He wanted to believe Sam in the worst way. Regardless of what was going on, Sam was still his brother. He paid his bar tab and headed back to the motel.
When Dean opened the door, he saw Sam's duffel on the bed, but didn't see him in the room. He looked over and saw the bathroom door closed. He knocked on the door. "Sam?" Silence. "Sammy?" He knocked on the door as he called him. When there was still no answer, he tried the knob. The door was unlocked. He opened the door and frozen for a moment with what he saw. He ran over to the side of the tub and started to shake Sam. "Sammy? Sammy, c'mon, dude, open up your eyes." Sam's head rolled from side to side. Dean reached up and felt for Sam's pulse, which was a little sluggish, but was there. Dean realized he didn't have much time to waste. He pulled Sam out of he tub with difficulty and dragged him over to the bed Sam normally took. "God damn it, Sam." Dean debated whether he should call an ambulance or not. In the end, he felt he didn't have a choice; he had no idea what Sam had taken or how long it would take for him to wake up. He also needed more stitches than Dean thought he could finish in time. He worked quickly to staunch the bleeding from both arms, and waited for the ambulance.
It took longer than Dean thought it would for the ambulance to arrive. They drilled him with questions while they made sure Sam's airway was clear and started IVs. They loaded Sam onto the gurney and Dean grabbed his keys to follow in the Impala.
Dean took the time to register Sam at the hospital, despite the fact that he wanted to be beside Sam. They kept Dean in the waiting room for over two hours. Every time he saw a nurse, he tried to see if he could get any information, but no one would tell him anything. Finally, a doctor came out of the ER door. "Dean…Marchand?"
"Yes?"
"Your brother Sam is stable. We've sutured his arms - he's going to have scars, no doubt about it. We don't know what he took, so we're pumping his stomach as we speak to make sure to nullify any overdose he took."
"Is he conscious?"
"Not yet. You're welcome to come in, though if you'd like."
Dean nodded and followed the doctor to Sam's room. Sam was on the stretcher, eyes closed. He was hooked up to monitors, beeps counting out his heartbeats. A tube had been inserted in his nose. Dean had no idea what that was for, but his heart broke a little when he saw Sam lying there so still.
It felt like an eternity before he heard Sam began to cough and opened his eyes. He looked around panicked, not sure where he was or who was around him. Finally his eyes fixed on Dean briefly before dropping his head to avoid that look on Dean's face.
"God damn it, Sam. What the fuck?"
"Dean, don't," Sam whispered. "Just let it go."
"Let it go?! LET IT GO?!" Dean stood and began to pace in the small room. "What if I had decided to stay later at the bar? What if I decided to go home with someone?"
"Then I wouldn't be here, just like it was meant to be."
"NO! It's NOT meant to be like that."
"C'mon, Dean. If the choices are dead or darkside, we all know what the option is."
"You're not going to go darkside. I won't let you."
Sam snorted. "That's funny. Last time I talked to you, you said I was going to turn."
Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed. He sat down next to Sam and took his hand. "Sammy, I didn't mean it. I was scared and angry and I took it out on you."
"But you've been thinking it. You never would have said it if you hadn't been thinking about it."
He gripped Sam's hand tighter. "Yes, it's crossed my mind," Dean said quietly. "That still doesn't mean it has to happen, Sam."
"But you're afraid of me now."
"Sammy, I'm afraid for you. I know what you've done, dude, and I know that it makes you feel powerful, but you've got to know what you're doing isn't right."
"Can we not have a morals lesson right now?"
"Please promise me you won't do this again."
Sam looked down.
"Sammy, please. I…I can't do it again. I can't. I've got nothing left to make a deal with, and I can't watch you die again. I'd follow right behind you, dude, Cas and Zachariah be damned."
"Cas'll take care of you. He'll make sure nothing happens."
"He's not you, Sammy. Who's gonna fight beside me? Who's gonna cover my ass when I need it?"
Sam sat quietly and looked at his hands, folded on top of the blanket. "You don't trust me."
"Sammy, c'mon. I was angry at you for being reckless and taking Lilith on without backup and I was scared she was going to annihilate you. It's the same as it's always been, though. You're my little brother and if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna save you. No matter what. I promise you that." He took Sam's chin in his hand and pulled Sam's head up. "Look at me, Sam." He had trouble meeting Dean's eyes. "You listen, and you listen to me good. This NEVER happens again. NEVER. Bottom line is, I can't live without you. Please don't make me."
Sam nodded. "How 'bout we see if we can get me out of here."
"Promise me, Sam."
Sam took a deep breath. "I promise."
"Was that so hard?"
"Yeah, it was. I don't want to hurt you, Dean."
"You won't. I won't let you." He ran his hand through his hair. "Now, c'mon. Enough of these chick-flick moments. I'll be right back."
Sam watched Dean leave the room. He hoped his brother was right. He really hoped his brother could save him.