Seeing Red
Title: Seeing Red
Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Graphic violence, references to suicide
Word Count: 1,076
Disclaimer: The CW is so very giving. They let us borrow the Winchesters whenever we ask. We just have to make sure to give them back when we're done.
Prompt: "SPN, Sam, author’s choice, the color of the blood" from samidha at comment_fic
Spoilers: Season 6 in general
Summary: Sam is so very angry.
Sam can tell anyone that the phrase “seeing red” can be very literal sometimes. His rage blazes through his mind removing all rational thought and a red film will come over his sight. Most times, he has no idea why he’s this angry but he's always been pretty good at controlling that rage. That's not the case right now, his rage has spilled out, leaving his body humming with adrenaline and his sight red tinted, blinding him from what is before him. All he knows is that he’s hurting and slicing the object of his rage and it feels so very, very good, almost cathartic. The red in front of his eyes matches the color of the blood on his hands and his knife and the body under his hands.
“Sam.” His brother’s voice is breathless, only but a whisper but it sends cold ice down his spine, chilling him to his core. Because that one word says so much to Sam: horror, pain, disappointment. It says, “Oh my God, what have you done?” and “How could you?” and “You’re breaking my heart.” It cools his rage like nothing else ever could.
He holds his knife firm in his hand growing sticky and tacky on the hilt as the blood begins to congeal. He can now see what lies beneath him. His mother’s sightless eyes look back. This isn’t the woman he’s seen in the few photos his brother and father carefully kept. No this is the younger version of his mother, the one he met in the past. She is slashed and cut in so many places but her face is unmarred and her blond curls spread around her head like a halo. A pool of dark red blood steadily spreads around her.
Sam scrambles to his feet, stumbling away. The knife drops from his numb fingers as he looks at her with horror.
“Mom?” Sam turns toward his brother’s voice and see’s him standing there looking shattered and lost, tears streaming down his face.
“Dean. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
But a voice in his head, that part of him that insists that he be honest with himself calls him “liar.”
“Yes, you did,” says his brother his voice now dripping with venom.
Sam pulls away and into himself, unable to look at what he’s done or face his brother, only to come face-to-face with himself. “What have I done?” he cries.
“What you wanted,” replies his other self.
“No, no. I would never want that.”
“Sam, don’t lie. You can’t lie to me. So why lie to yourself? Of course you wanted to hurt her. Why wouldn’t you? She betrayed you, sacrificed you for her own selfish desires. She willingly placed you on Hell’s altar so she could have her heart’s desire, her man, her happy ending.”
Sam shakes his head in weak denial, “No, she didn’t know. She didn’t know it would be me.”
“Of course she did. She was a hunter. She knew nothing good came of deals with demons and that demons keep to their contracts. Azazel said she wouldn’t have to pay the price, so who did she think would have to pay it? Who in her home would Azazel visit in ten years when her contract came due?”
Sam knew his other self spoke only the thoughts he had had so many times since he found out the truth. He tries to fight the anger that begins to build again inside of him but his control seems to slip and slide through his grasp. He closes his eyes trying to shut out the words but they continue to brutally beat against his defenses.
“You know, she had ten years to prepare for Azazel. Ten years to try and find a way out of the deal. But no, she instead surrounded herself with her sweet average little family. There was no room in that life for sigils or salt or any other protection. Oh no. Couldn’t have that, could she? It would take away from what she wanted most desperately, Normal.
She risked her precious family to have her fiction. She didn’t care who got hurt - you, Dad, Dean - as long as she got what she wanted. When that night came, she was completely oblivious with her hands over ears singing ‘la la la,’ while your innocence was stolen away.”
“But you would know, wouldn’t you, Sam?” Sam whirls around to see his brother standing behind him once again.
“Isn’t that what you wanted? Why you ran to college, to get your normal? Tell me, when you took off with me to look for dad, did you salt your apartment? Were there any sigils carved in the walls?”
Sam says nothing but its answer enough for Dean. “Yeah, just what I thought. You didn’t. Wouldn’t want to look strange or weird in front of your girlfriend now would we? If you did that then you would have to admit that the monsters could reach you in your ‘safe’ little haven. You left Jess completely unprotected because you were too damn selfish to pull your head out of the sand. You’re no different than mom.”
Dean’s words slice into Sam. They aren’t anything new, thoughts he’s had a million times since Jess’ death. But to hear them from Dean just feels ten times worse. His anger becomes twisted with self-loathing and he wishes he could plunge the knife on the floor into his heart just to end the pain.
“Well, sacrifices just have to be made sometimes,” says his other-self and what little control Sam has left is lost. He knows those words. It’s what he said over and over as he polluted himself with Ruby’s blood and allowed his drive for revenge to cloud his judgment. It is what led him to release Lucifer and start the Apocalypse. At that moment, he hates himself so very much.
In one fluid motion, he reaches down and picks up the knife, running at himself to plunge the knife in over and over again. The rage turns into a red film over his eyes once again. For a brief moment, he knows this has happened before, many times before, and he knows despair. But it is quickly gone as he sinks into the rage, drowning in its red waves. He hears laughter all around him but he ignores it as he destroys once again what he hates most.
Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Graphic violence, references to suicide
Word Count: 1,076
Disclaimer: The CW is so very giving. They let us borrow the Winchesters whenever we ask. We just have to make sure to give them back when we're done.
Prompt: "SPN, Sam, author’s choice, the color of the blood" from samidha at comment_fic
Spoilers: Season 6 in general
Summary: Sam is so very angry.
Sam can tell anyone that the phrase “seeing red” can be very literal sometimes. His rage blazes through his mind removing all rational thought and a red film will come over his sight. Most times, he has no idea why he’s this angry but he's always been pretty good at controlling that rage. That's not the case right now, his rage has spilled out, leaving his body humming with adrenaline and his sight red tinted, blinding him from what is before him. All he knows is that he’s hurting and slicing the object of his rage and it feels so very, very good, almost cathartic. The red in front of his eyes matches the color of the blood on his hands and his knife and the body under his hands.
“Sam.” His brother’s voice is breathless, only but a whisper but it sends cold ice down his spine, chilling him to his core. Because that one word says so much to Sam: horror, pain, disappointment. It says, “Oh my God, what have you done?” and “How could you?” and “You’re breaking my heart.” It cools his rage like nothing else ever could.
He holds his knife firm in his hand growing sticky and tacky on the hilt as the blood begins to congeal. He can now see what lies beneath him. His mother’s sightless eyes look back. This isn’t the woman he’s seen in the few photos his brother and father carefully kept. No this is the younger version of his mother, the one he met in the past. She is slashed and cut in so many places but her face is unmarred and her blond curls spread around her head like a halo. A pool of dark red blood steadily spreads around her.
Sam scrambles to his feet, stumbling away. The knife drops from his numb fingers as he looks at her with horror.
“Mom?” Sam turns toward his brother’s voice and see’s him standing there looking shattered and lost, tears streaming down his face.
“Dean. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
But a voice in his head, that part of him that insists that he be honest with himself calls him “liar.”
“Yes, you did,” says his brother his voice now dripping with venom.
Sam pulls away and into himself, unable to look at what he’s done or face his brother, only to come face-to-face with himself. “What have I done?” he cries.
“What you wanted,” replies his other self.
“No, no. I would never want that.”
“Sam, don’t lie. You can’t lie to me. So why lie to yourself? Of course you wanted to hurt her. Why wouldn’t you? She betrayed you, sacrificed you for her own selfish desires. She willingly placed you on Hell’s altar so she could have her heart’s desire, her man, her happy ending.”
Sam shakes his head in weak denial, “No, she didn’t know. She didn’t know it would be me.”
“Of course she did. She was a hunter. She knew nothing good came of deals with demons and that demons keep to their contracts. Azazel said she wouldn’t have to pay the price, so who did she think would have to pay it? Who in her home would Azazel visit in ten years when her contract came due?”
Sam knew his other self spoke only the thoughts he had had so many times since he found out the truth. He tries to fight the anger that begins to build again inside of him but his control seems to slip and slide through his grasp. He closes his eyes trying to shut out the words but they continue to brutally beat against his defenses.
“You know, she had ten years to prepare for Azazel. Ten years to try and find a way out of the deal. But no, she instead surrounded herself with her sweet average little family. There was no room in that life for sigils or salt or any other protection. Oh no. Couldn’t have that, could she? It would take away from what she wanted most desperately, Normal.
She risked her precious family to have her fiction. She didn’t care who got hurt - you, Dad, Dean - as long as she got what she wanted. When that night came, she was completely oblivious with her hands over ears singing ‘la la la,’ while your innocence was stolen away.”
“But you would know, wouldn’t you, Sam?” Sam whirls around to see his brother standing behind him once again.
“Isn’t that what you wanted? Why you ran to college, to get your normal? Tell me, when you took off with me to look for dad, did you salt your apartment? Were there any sigils carved in the walls?”
Sam says nothing but its answer enough for Dean. “Yeah, just what I thought. You didn’t. Wouldn’t want to look strange or weird in front of your girlfriend now would we? If you did that then you would have to admit that the monsters could reach you in your ‘safe’ little haven. You left Jess completely unprotected because you were too damn selfish to pull your head out of the sand. You’re no different than mom.”
Dean’s words slice into Sam. They aren’t anything new, thoughts he’s had a million times since Jess’ death. But to hear them from Dean just feels ten times worse. His anger becomes twisted with self-loathing and he wishes he could plunge the knife on the floor into his heart just to end the pain.
“Well, sacrifices just have to be made sometimes,” says his other-self and what little control Sam has left is lost. He knows those words. It’s what he said over and over as he polluted himself with Ruby’s blood and allowed his drive for revenge to cloud his judgment. It is what led him to release Lucifer and start the Apocalypse. At that moment, he hates himself so very much.
In one fluid motion, he reaches down and picks up the knife, running at himself to plunge the knife in over and over again. The rage turns into a red film over his eyes once again. For a brief moment, he knows this has happened before, many times before, and he knows despair. But it is quickly gone as he sinks into the rage, drowning in its red waves. He hears laughter all around him but he ignores it as he destroys once again what he hates most.