Saving Grace (5/?)
Title: Saving Grace (5/?)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Castiel
Summary: Sam has been in a mental institution for most of his life and has accepted the fact that he would never be out, would never be normal. When a new psychiatrist takes over his case, he begins asking different questions and Sam starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he can be saved.
Warnings: Angst. Suicide attempts. Self-mutilation. Character Death (Winchesters). Angst. Angst. Oh, angst.
A/N: Based off the prompt by emmatheslayer and written for her! I own nothing, except the fiction. This chapter is unbeta'd.
Prompt: Sam is in a mental hospital and Castiel is psychiatrist that sees how good and sweet he can be when he is in his right mind but Sam can never understand why he is drawn to Castiel and sticks close to him hoping he gets better.
Chapter four can be found here.
Fiction Index can be found here.
The room was silent and for that, Sam was grateful.
All morning Sam felt like he was on display, like an animal caged at a zoo but without the luxury to move freely. He was trapped, poked at and prodded, medical doctors and psychiatrists and nurses all asking him the same questions, looking at his eyes and ears and throat, pressing at his stomach and listening to his lungs.
“Are you feeling okay, Sam?”
“Do you have any pain?”
“It’s been eight days since you’ve had a bowel movement…”
“Do you want to hurt yourself right now? Do you want to end your life?”
Sam took it, knew the process, and subjected himself to assessment after assessment until the silence was something he welcomed. He didn’t fear him coming, not now. Sam had succumbed, had submitted. He was placated for now.
Sam rolled on his side and squeezed his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the camera in the solitary room. Maybe if they staff believed he was asleep, he would be able to actually get some sleep. Beneath the covers, Sam ran his hands over the thick gauze bandages wrapped around his arms.
Charlie had been in earlier after her initial assessment when he woke up and he had watched her change the dressings. The gauze beneath had been saturated with blood, tiny stitches crisscrossed up and down both of his arms where he had managed to flay them wide. He couldn’t remember them getting fixed… only remembered laying in Doctor Novak’s arms, his blood pooling over Cas’ fingers as he squeezed Sam’s flesh tightly. Sam’s stomach rolled the moment the antiseptic scent of the betadine Charlie used to clean the wounds hit his nose and he had to look away.
“Yeah, you did a number on yourself, Sam,” Charlie said softly, mistaking his action of turning away. She finished quickly and then sat back, touching Sam’s hand gently. “Please, Sam… Stay with us this time, okay? We really are just trying to help you.”
Sam nodded and waited to feel the bed dip as she pushed off of it and then moved to leave. She stopped at the door, her hand on the handle as she turned and gave him a small smile. “Try and get some rest, Sam.”
And she had been the last visitor he had.
He applied pressure to his left wrist, hissing as pain shot down his arm and the cut started to throb. He debated doing the same to the other side, counting his pulse with each throb, but forced himself to relax back into the pillow instead.
He didn’t know how long he laid there with his eyes closed, counting each throb of blood through his veins. Thump throb, thump throb, thump throb. A soft knock on the door made him jump slightly and he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, holding his breath to wait.
“Sam? Can I come in?”
Sam exhaled slowly, recognizing the deep baritone of Dr. Novak. He shrugged his shoulders, just slightly, but knew the Doctor had seen it when the door squeaked open and then clicked shut before dress shoes made their way across the floor.
“Can I sit?” Cas asked and Sam finally opened his eyes, peering at Cas from beneath his bangs. The older man looked small, his shoulders slumped and his eyes tired as he stared down at Sam’s prone form. Something in his eyes made Sam’s heart pang and he swallowed hard, finding his throat dry, his hands shaky. He nodded and shifted over on the bed, giving Cas the room he needed to sit.
Dr. Novak smiled wide and crossed the room, nearly falling to his knees to be able to sit on the mattress that was on the floor-- having an actual bed frame would be a danger, after all. Sam watched as Cas twisted the bottom of his button down shirt in his fingers, rolling the fabric, and Sam’s eyes widened.
“You shouldn’t do that,” Sam whispered, his voice cracking on the last word. Cas paused and looked over at him, confused. “You shouldn’t pick at your clothing… It’s not good.”
Cas looked like he wanted to say something, to ask why, and Sam had the answer ready on his tongue. Restless. Impatient. Intolerant. Noncompliant. Destructive. Dangerous. Instead, Cas squeezed the fabric tightly and then released it, smoothing his shirt down and placing his hands flat on his thighs.
Silence fell over them and Sam held his breath, watching the steady rise and fall of Dr. Novak’s chest. It was comforting, a sign of life. Sam shifted his head, bending one of his arms under the pillow to prop himself up so his eyes were directly on Cas’ stomach.
Sam took a deep breath and then exhaled with Cas, making himself breathe when the older man did. In and out. In and out. In and out. They breathed together and Sam was hit with a memory so hard it made him dizzy.
Dean lay flat in the grass beneath the tree house, the shade just blocking the sun from his eyes. He had his eyes closed, a smile on his face, and Sam was the happiest he had been in… as long as he could remember.
Carefully, Sam carried two glasses of lemonade over to Dean and carefully got down on the ground, crossing his legs in the cool grass and pushing the bottom of the glasses gently into the dirt so they wouldn’t immediately tip over.
Dean cracked an eye open and smiled at him, patting the grass beside him. Sam scrambled to lay beside his brother, immediately copying his position - legs outstretched, one knee bent, and arms folded beneath his head as a makeshift pillow.
Today was good. Today Dad started his first day at a new job. Today was the start of things being different.
Sam turned his head to look at his brother, smiling when he found Dean already looking to him. His older brother smiled, flashing all of his teeth, and Sam felt his heart explode at how happy they were. Sam settled back and shifted, pressing himself against his brother’s side. He could feel the rise and fall of Dean’s chest and he matched it, inhaling when Dean did, exhaling together.
They lay there in the calm of the summer sun, breathing in unison, lost in the same thoughts. Suddenly, Sam was hit with a realization.
“Dean?” he asked, looking over once more. Dean hummed his response and Sam took that as the okay to continue. “My teacher was asking what we wanted to be when we grow up, and I told her I didn’t know. But I do know, I just decided right now.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean opened his eyes again and turned his attention completely to Sam. “What do you wanna be Sammy? A lawyer? A doctor? Oh! A fireman?”
Sam shook his head quickly, rolling his eyes at his brother. “No, everyone wants to be those things. I want to be something extra special.”
“Alright, tell me then.”
“I want to be you, Dean.” Sam smiled at him and watched as Dean’s breathing stopped for a moment, his green eyes widening as he pushed up onto his elbow to look down at Sam still laying in the grass.
“Me?” he finally whispered, shaking his head. “Why me?”
“Because Dean, you’re braver and stronger than a fireman and smarter than a doctor or a lawyer. None of those people are as cool as you.”
Dean’s eyes suddenly filled with tears and Sam was taken aback, wondering what he said that could’ve possibly upset his brother. Then Dean was on him, his arms wrapped tightly around Sam’s body as he crushed them together in a tight hug.
“You are too, Sammy, you’re just as brave and strong as me. Don’t forget that, okay?” Sam nodded his head against Dean’s chest, not really believing him but thinking that it was nice to hear Dean say so anyways. “I love you, Sammy.”
“I love you too, Dean.”
Sam’s cheeks were hot, his breathing fast and definitely not matching Cas’ anymore, and he gasped, sucking in a huge gulp of air as he wildly searched for Cas’ eyes.
“Sam? Sam, are you okay? Are you with me?” The doctor turned, his hands moving immediately to Sam’s shoulder and squeezing gently. The weight was warm, reassuring and Sam sucked in another breath, reaching up to grip Cas’ hand beneath his own.
“It’s my fault, Cas… it’s all my fault that he’s dead!” Sam knew he was speaking, could feel his mouth forming the words, but it didn’t sound like his voice, didn’t sound like he was the one saying the words. Cas looked pained for a second and then shook his head.
“Sam… it’s not your fault. You were a child, only seven when--”
“But it was my fault,” Sam argued, shaking his head and squeezing Cas’ fingers harder, trying to get him to listen. He needed to listen, he was the only one that would; Sam knew that now. “We made a promise, Cas… we made a promise and I broke it. He was everything to me… I wanted to be just like Dean when I grew up, strong and smart and brave… Dean was so brave…”
More tears slid down Sam’s cheeks, a hard lump formed in his throat and Sam could feel his pulse burning through his wrists, a reminder that he was alive, he had blood coursing through his veins, providing him with a life that he shouldn’t have, not if Dean didn’t too.
He choked out a sob, forcing himself to focus on the feeling of Dr. Novak’s fingers pressed into the muscle of his shoulder, his middle finger digging in almost too painfully.
“We promised, Cas, that we wouldn’t leave one another… and when the time came, when Dean told me to hide… I did it, I listened to him. I listened to Dean like I always did, and then I listened to him die. I listened to him scream and I listened to him yell for my mom to run because even then, even with him tearing them apart… Dean couldn’t think about himself. I listened and I--” Sam broke off with another sob, his entire body shaking with it and he could feel his body growing cold, could hear the screaming inside of his head.
”You useless son of a bitch! Do you think you can run away from me? Think it’s up to you what happens to them, Dean? Do you think you’re the man of the house?”
“Sam! Samuel Winchester, you better get your ass out here right now. You worthless piece of shit… Come to me boy! NOW! I am your-”
“Sam! Sam!” Cas was shaking him, his fingers now completely painful as they pressed into Sam’s flesh and he found himself wincing. “Sam, you have to stay with me, okay? You have to stay with me right here.”
Sam swallowed hard and nodded his head, chasing the memories away from the forefront of his mind and focusing on the low humming coming from Cas before him. Sam knew Cas wanted to ask, wanted to push. But they sat in silence instead, Cas humming a song that Sam was sure Dean would’ve liked if he was there.
And then slowly, Sam drifted off to sleep.
***
Sam’s room felt different somehow. He looked around it carefully -- it was the same bed, with the same dings and chips taken out of the frame, the same plastic cabinet filled with the same white scrubs and boxer shorts, the same plastic chair pressed against the same corner of the room…
Sam sank down onto the end of the bed and looked up around the ceiling of the room. Ah. There it was. Sam scowled at the far corner of the room, then gave a little wave to whoever was sitting out at the front desk watching the cameras.
Sam had officially gained a visual room.
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Sam looked up to see one of the night nurses pushing her cart into the room. She gave him a small smile. “Hey Sam, I’m Ruby and I’m taking over for Charlie for the night. I’m glad you’re being moved back into your room. That must make you happy!”
Sam raised an eyebrow and shrugged, watching as she punched in her code and opened up the small drawer labeled with his name. She pulled out his pills and for a moment, Sam wondered if he should bother asking what was changed on him. Then he decided he couldn’t care less.
“Can you give me your name and date of birth please?”
“Sam Winchester. May 2nd, 1983.” She smiled at him, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder and started popping the pills out of their packages into a plastic bag. Sam waited, watching as she crushed the pills and then tapped the powder into a small cup of applesauce.
“Here you go.” She smiled at him, flashing him all of her teeth and Sam pushed back a shudder as he took the cup and spoon. He ignored the way Ruby stared at him, watching him far closer than Charlie or any of the other nurses ever did, and then handed the plastics back to her.
“Thanks,” Sam said after a moment when the nurse stood there, still staring at him.
“Dinner will be up in a little bit,” Ruby finally spoke, turning away from him and pushing the cart with her out of the room. “Then Doctor Novak has requested an evening session with you tonight.”
“Okay.” Sam nodded to the now empty room, his stomach fluttering at the thought of seeing Cas again so soon. The day before, Cas had sat with him, humming as Sam cried himself to sleep, and when he woke up he found that Cas had tucked him in and somehow gotten the rest of the staff to leave him alone for the rest of the night to sleep. That morning he’d woken up to Charlie changing his dressings, doing her assessment, and announcing that he would be returning to his room today. He hadn’t expected that to happen so late in the day, but he supposed the camera had been a new addition that morning.
He wondered what Cas would think about him falling apart yesterday, about falling apart over the last week. The last few interactions he’d had with the Doctor had been… interesting. Between Cas finding him, his wrists bleeding all over the man’s suit pants, and then the letter he handed him before he’d fallen apart with Dr. Mills…
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, raising his fists to press against his eyes. The letter, he’d completely forgotten about the stupid fucking letter.
He racked his brain, trying to remember what he’d written. He’d all but thrown himself at the other man… Sam groaned and flopped backwards onto his bed, immediately rolling to his side and pulling the pillow tight against his chest. It was stupid, stupid to even think that there could ever be anything between him and his therapist. Sam was sure it was all kinds of illegal, especially since he’d been considered insane since before he was double digits, and Cas… Cas would never truly want someone as fucked up as Sam was.
He waited until he heard the rumbling of the food cart and then forced himself to throw his legs over the side of the bed. The room spinned, his head feeling heavy and floaty, and Sam cursed himself for not asking Ruby what she was giving him.
Sam stumbled over to his dresser and pulled out a set of clean clothes, taking his time to pull them on so he didn’t topple over and end up on his ass. He didn’t want whoever was manning the camera to send a bunch of nurses and aides in to help him off the floor with his goddamn pants around his ankles. Not that any of them hadn’t seen him under worse circumstances…
When his pants were secured around his waist, Sam stood completely and waited a beat or two before he started towards the door. The room was still spinning and he found himself all but clinging to the thick plastic railing that lined the hallways.
When he got to the dining hall, Bobby was already setting out the trays and he gave Sam a genuine smile.
“Good to see you, boy. Been a while.” Bobby nodded to a seat at the end of the first table and Sam was grateful he didn’t have to walk further. He plopped into the hard plastic chair and smiled back up at Bobby as his tray was slid in front of him. “You keep your nose clean,” Bobby said softly, squeezing his shoulder. “Missed seeing that mop o’ yours around here at meal times.”
“Thanks, Bobby.” Sam nodded back at him, shifting on the chair before he picked up the lid to his plate. Spaghetti and meat sauce with a slab of garlic bread-extra cheese, thanks to Bobby. Sam shut his eyes for a moment and then realized it must be Friday.
He couldn’t remember the last meal he’d actually eaten out in the cafeteria… It was definitely over a week ago, however. Sam glanced up and saw Bobby watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye, either making sure he was going to eat or half expecting him to go mental, Sam wasn’t sure. But he flashed him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and picked up his fork to dig into his dinner.
After a few bites, his stomach started to settle somewhat, the room seemed to slow down. But Sam still felt off. He made a note to ask Dr. Novak what the hell had happened to his medications, what they’d added. Not that anyone had to clear anything by him, but it would be nice to know what they were shoving down his throat three times a day…
A tray clattered down across from him and Sam forced himself to keep his head down. He knew, without the snarky “Sammy!” who it was.
“See they finally broke you outta prison. Did a number on yourself… wonder how that happened.”
“Obviously didn’t do it well enough,” Sam muttered back, stiffening as he looked around them to make sure none of the nurses or Bobby had heard him. That sure as hell would land him right back into isolation…
“Ah, well, we can’t all be winners, now can we Sammy?” Az chuckled and Sam looked up enough to see him mutilating his plate of pasta, cutting each strand into miniscule pieces. It looked visceral, and Sam wondered if that was the only way the demon could eat his food…
“You look like someone pissed in your Wheaties, Sammy.” Sam stayed silent, twirling some spaghetti onto his fork. “Hah, cat got your tongue?”
Sam rolled his eyes, lifted his fork to his mouth, and took another bite.
“There’s a little rumor goin’ around, Sammy. You should be glad you’re still hear ta hear it.” Silence. Clinking of forks. Tap of water glasses hitting the wooden tables. Azazel chuckled and leaned even closer, his breath coated in garlic and tomato sauce. It made Sam cringe and pull back, his eyes locking with blood shot yellow ones. “Your brother is here.”
Sam froze, scowl half placed on his face as he prepared to tell Az to fuck off. He was sure his heart stopped beating. For a moment, there was no pain in his wrists, no throb of life pounding through them. Sam felt warm, and for a split second he recognized the feeling, the power, of hope before reality came crashing down and ripped it away.
Dean was dead. Dean was gone. Sam had knelt beside his brother’s broken eleven year old body, his hands coated in Dean’s blood as he tried to piece together his flayed open flesh. And if, in some fucked up way, Dean had been able to survive being ripped apart by the monster, then Sam knew he wouldn’t still be here. Dean would’ve moved heaven and hell to get to him.
Dean was a better brother than Sam ever was…
Sam choked on the air he struggled to take into his lungs. He dropped his fork, the sound echoing in his ears and he knew the rest of the cafeteria was now looking at them. Az smile widened, taking in Sam’s reaction, and he laughed. Sam hated that laugh…. Hated how it sounded, grating and loud.
“Oh, you thought I meant Dean-o? Course not, Sammy. Dean’s dead, dead, dead!” Az slammed his fists down on the table, catching Sam’s hands beneath them and pulled them closer so their faces were inches apart. “I mean your other brother. You think Daddy stopped procreating after he fucked up Winchester one and two?”
“Hey!” Bobby’s voice was loud, but not louder than Az’ laughter. Az scraped his hands back and Sam watched through blurred vision as he was dragged away from the table by one of the nurses, already in deep conversation to save his ass about how it had been a ‘friendly’ conversation.
Sam stayed still, his wrists and hands burning where Az’ nails had dug into his skin. He didn’t have a brother, not anymore. It wasn’t possible. Az was lying, he was twisting something, he always twisted something.
He racked his brain, trying to remember what he’d written. He’d all but thrown himself at the other man… Sam groaned and flopped backwards onto his bed, immediately rolling to his side and pulling the pillow tight against his chest. It was stupid, stupid to even think that there could ever be anything between him and his therapist. Sam was sure it was all kinds of illegal, especially since he’d been considered insane since before he was double digits, and Cas… Cas would never truly want someone as fucked up as Sam was.
He waited until he heard the rumbling of the food cart and then forced himself to throw his legs over the side of the bed. The room spinned, his head feeling heavy and floaty, and Sam cursed himself for not asking Ruby what she was giving him.
Sam stumbled over to his dresser and pulled out a set of clean clothes, taking his time to pull them on so he didn’t topple over and end up on his ass. He didn’t want whoever was manning the camera to send a bunch of nurses and aides in to help him off the floor with his goddamn pants around his ankles. Not that any of them hadn’t seen him under worse circumstances…
When his pants were secured around his waist, Sam stood completely and waited a beat or two before he started towards the door. The room was still spinning and he found himself all but clinging to the thick plastic railing that lined the hallways.
When he got to the dining hall, Bobby was already setting out the trays and he gave Sam a genuine smile.
“Sam? Come on, Sam. I think dinner’s over…” Bobby was pushing against him gently, moving his arms off the table, taking his tray, rubbing soothing circles over his back. But Bobby didn’t know, didn’t know that if what Az said was true… if Sam had another brother… then he’d failed him too.
“Sam?” Another voice broke though and Sam looked up to see Ruby staring at him, a small smile still playing on her lips. “Are you planning on keeping your appointment with Doctor Novak?”
Sam nodded, looking around the room. There were new faces, a few people who had come back that Sam recognized, and they were all silent, all staring at him. Everyone was always staring at him, waiting for him to snap. He nodded again, pushing away from the table.
“Yeah, I’m going.”
It was the only place Sam felt safe.
***
“Good evening, Sam. How are you feeling?” Cas smiled at him the moment he walked into the room, two large arm chairs already pulled close together before the Doctor’s desk, and Sam’s stupid heart skipped a stupid beat when he saw that Cas was already sitting in one, and they were the only ones in the room.
“Should I expect someone else to join us?” Sam asked as he crossed the room and slid into the chair designated for him. Cas had the stupid pillow already on his lap and it made Sam’s finger’s itch. He didn’t know if it was a joke or if Cas really was afraid of him…
“Ah, no.” Cas shook his head, shifting in the chair and crossing his legs. “In hindsight… that was a mistake.”
Sam snorted, his hands automatically crossing to press the stitched side of his arms against his chest. Silence fell over them and Sam was confused at the silence. He looked around and realized there wasn’t a clock anymore, nothing to fill the silence except for Cas’ easy breathing and Sam’s rapid heartbeat.
“How are you feeling, Sam? Really?” Sam glanced over and saw Cas was leaning forward, his blue eyes bright and wide with concern. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him that way without faking it…
Sam blew out a breath, relaxing back into the chair cushion. “Without a clock, how do you know when the hours up?”
Cas smiled and shook his head. “You’re so observant,” he laughed, but Sam heard no malice in it, would pay to hear Cas’ laugh for the rest of eternity than listen to Az’ one more time. If, he had money of his own that is. “I am trying something new.”
Sam raised an eyebrow and stared, pushing for him to elaborate. Cas stared back, picking at the edge of the pillow and Sam’s eyes trailed down, watching as a thick blue string unraveled itself. Destructive. His eyes slammed back up, locking on Cas’.
“You shouldn’t-"
“I shouldn’t pick at it, yes I know.” Cas smiled again and somehow, it made Sam relax. His eyes continue to glance down to the string, now being twisted between the other man’s fingers, but when he looked back up he didn’t feel as anxious about it. “I am not going to be timing sessions anymore. I have blocked them so that I have adequate time with my patients. I don’t think putting a time limit is effective or makes for a relaxing atmosphere.”
“What if I like the ticking sound?” Sam asked after a moment.
“I have a smart phone,” Cas replied, as if that meant something to Sam. When Sam stared back at him, expression blank, Cas reached into his front pocket and pulled out a rectangular device. “It’s a phone, but I can put music on it. Or a clock ticking media file, if you would want.”
Sam stared at it for a moment, then shook his head. “No… it’s okay without it.”
“Well, if you change your mind let me know.”
Silence. In his mind, Sam provided his own ticking, each beat of the clock coinciding with the rise and fall of Cas’ chest. Sam realized, a moment too late, that he was staring and the doctor cleared his throat to gain Sam’s attention back.
“I want us to talk about something important Sam. And it’s not going to be easy…” Sam felt his stomach clench and he held his breath. “I want to do it your way, how you’re comfortable… but I want us to talk about what happened that night.”
“I can’t,” Sam whispered, immediately shaking his head. This was his safe room, the safe room, Cas was safe… and it wouldn’t be safe once he was brought here…
“This is a safe room, Sam.” Sam snapped his mouth shut, flushing with embarrassment when he realized he had spoken out loud. “No one and nothing can touch you in here.” He paused, silence, Sam’s imaginary tick-tocking. “I just want us to try. Can you do that, Sam?”
Tick-tock, inhale-exhale. Tick-tock, inhale-exhale. Tick-tock, inhale-exhale.
“I can try.”