Just a Little Impaired, Just a Little Unwell (1/1)
Title: Just a Little Impaired, Just a Little Unwell
Characters: Sam/Michael
Rating: R
Words: 492
Warning: au, slight season 7 spoiler, self-harm
Summary: To write love on his arms with a blade. - self-injury via cutting
Notes: Late fill for enmuse. I'm working on my endless list of lonely prompts.
Blood trickled down his arm, when the blade cut into his flesh, tearing skin until the pain returned. With a small cry, Sam let his relief escape his mouth. A weight on his soul was lifted and his tears of joy tangled with those he shed because of the pain.
A hand joins his and holds it until his entire arm is trembling from the force beneath it.
"I can feel it," Sam whispered. "I can feel again."
Yes, it's pain. But after hell he had been so numb. His soul had been disconnected from his body and Lucifer played with his mind, digging is fingers deeper and deeper into his brain like a curious child. The pure, clean feeling of pain was something Sam embraced.
Sam took the knife again and hovered over his skin, wishing to feel more of this. When he saw the blood pouring out of the first wound, he hesitated. Would it be too much? He did not wish to die of blood loss.
"Do it," the angel who held his hand said. "I will heal you, if it becomes necessary."
"Thank you," Sam exclaimed gratefully. "Thank you."
Fingers intertwined with his own, when the blade touched his skin again. Again the pain returned with a force that reminded Sam of the lightening he had been struck with, when Lucifer one day just felt like it. Unforgiving grace had pierced his soul like a pike heated forged in fire. It had left him burning and insensible.
"More", Sam begged, when his own sweet blood spilled over the wounds. "Please more."
It was way too much and never enough at the time. Sam hungered for the sensation of his thirst being quenched.
"Yes, of course," a soft forgiving voice assured him. The person Sam was so grateful for being here with him, allowing him to have, to fulfil his own alien need for pain.
"Take the blade," Michael encouraged Sam under the cover of the late night, of the remote place he had brought the human to in order to avoid preying eyes. "You have my word that your brother will never learn of this."
Sam sobbed.
It was release, a liberation Dean would never understand. He would only see the wounds and the scars. He would never allow Sam to feel again.
"Thank you, Lord Michael. Thank you so much."
He would have bowed, had Michael allowed or insisted on it. But the archangel forbade this kind of behaviour, confirming he would be content himself with the respect Sam paid to him in his heart.
"Your submission is not something I require in return for my assistance to you. Too see you soul shine again will be enough."