drabble: week six
Title: going, going, gone..
Author: Corrianne/
spellbind_ing.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: T, language/violence
Spoilers: all hell breaks loose 1/2
Word Count: 199
Prompt: 'I'm no longer me without you around.'
Summary: Sam is cursed.
A/N: reviews are like crack. even if what I write...is weird. like this. hopefully this is right. anyways...I like angst, you might have realized.
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When Dean sold his soul to get his brother’s life back, he didn’t ask questions. He took the year of life, and Sam’s return to existence and that was all.
Sam wishes that perhaps Dean would have looked into it, a bit more. Especially the day his brother died.
And the day where Sam was pushed out of a ten story high window, but wasn’t even phased. Or having his throat slit and moments after the blood poured out of him in torrents-fucking torrents there was no sign of this having been done except the blood soaked clothing he wore.
He can’t die, he realizes after the third time he falls onto the ground, his broken neck merely popping back into place. Sam sits on the ground, pulling at his hair and cursing his brother. But he takes it back because he doesn’t mean it. ‘I’m no longer me…without Dean,’ he thinks.
‘it’s like I’m cursed…‘ Old words echo emptily in his mind. He truly is cursed, he was right all along. Only now...
Sam continues to hunt, because it’s all he’s got left for the rest of his life, however long that might turn out to be.
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Author: Corrianne/
spellbind_ing.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: T, language/violence
Spoilers: all hell breaks loose 1/2
Word Count: 199
Prompt: 'I'm no longer me without you around.'
Summary: Sam is cursed.
A/N: reviews are like crack. even if what I write...is weird. like this. hopefully this is right. anyways...I like angst, you might have realized.
+++
When Dean sold his soul to get his brother’s life back, he didn’t ask questions. He took the year of life, and Sam’s return to existence and that was all.
Sam wishes that perhaps Dean would have looked into it, a bit more. Especially the day his brother died.
And the day where Sam was pushed out of a ten story high window, but wasn’t even phased. Or having his throat slit and moments after the blood poured out of him in torrents-fucking torrents there was no sign of this having been done except the blood soaked clothing he wore.
He can’t die, he realizes after the third time he falls onto the ground, his broken neck merely popping back into place. Sam sits on the ground, pulling at his hair and cursing his brother. But he takes it back because he doesn’t mean it. ‘I’m no longer me…without Dean,’ he thinks.
‘it’s like I’m cursed…‘ Old words echo emptily in his mind. He truly is cursed, he was right all along. Only now...
Sam continues to hunt, because it’s all he’s got left for the rest of his life, however long that might turn out to be.
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