fic
Title: Genesis 9:2-4
Author: slashychick666 (aka itzarazorblade)
Rating:PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Destiel if you squint
Spoilers: up to season...6 I believe?
Warnings: self harm. general insanity.
Word Count: 1629
Summary:The Bible’s first prohibition against consuming blood comes in Genesis 9:2-4... Especially demon blood.
written for the quote: Sam Winchester hates the blood in his veins.
It’s what makes him an abomination.
It’s the same blood that bonds him to the most important person in his life.
That thought stops him from wanting to pour it all out.
Everyday.
It started when little Sammy was a child. He always felt different. I mean, every child feels different, especially when they go to a different school every month. There were so many faces in so many schools you could never make any real friends. Living in motels, a car, a kickass car mind you, but...You can’t have sleep overs in a car. Forget puberty and pimples and girls when you don’t even really know what it is your father disappears doing weeks on end leaving you with an arsenal of weapons, guns, knives, riot batons, iron rods, and to be fathered by your big brother... and you have no mother.
No mother...vague nightmares of being so small and a man standing over you, dripping something...over you. Then your mother, your goddess, your wonder woman, she’s on the ceiling. Big strong hands pick you up, the other man is gone but daddy he doesn’t see mommy on the ceiling and it’s hot oh god it’s so hot.
Sit up screaming for about 10 years before the nightmares stop. Your father, who speaks the God’s honest truth, as he is God, your God, tells you it’s just nightmares from the trauma of your mother dying in a house fire when you were a boy.
But deep down. In the pit of your wretched different soul deep down, you know that’s not true.
You get old enough to go to college, a high school teachers words resonate with you.
“You can choose your own path Sammy, do what makes you happy.”
But so do your fathers;
“YOU CLOSE THAT DOOR YOU NEVER COME BACK, BOY.”
You get into Stanford law! (Despite the twisting difference still inside of you) The dream school of many and dream job of the masses. Six figures, a beautiful girl at your side... and your brother comes crashing into your living room. For “a beer”. Here we go again. The aching sense that you’re a freak in a car of what is truly the reason the word freak was invented, but... it’s so familiar. So warm. No trying to get to know people. No making up stories of where you came from. Just you, your brother, and Asia blasting out of a ‘67 Impala cassette tape player. You vaguely wonder if you should tell him about the craving you’ve been having that you can’t seem to cure with anything, beer, wine, vodka, tequila, ice cream. Even, maybe, once or twice, just the tiniest slit on the skin to watch that grotesque fluid flow from your body. The stuff that makes you a Winchester, and a weapon of mass revoltion. No no you can’t tell him that. You’re already a freak.
After your little reunion you go back to Stanford. To find your beautiful, loving, supporting, girlfriend... deep frying on your ceiling.
And there it goes, crawling in your veins, you need it out, you want it out. She’s gone, oh god, she was all you HAD! Grab the switch blade, dig it in your arm, you don’t even feel it because it’s not even supposed to be there, is it? Tear it across your chest. BLEED IT OUT.Bleed...the freak...out...
But...now there’s Dean...Go back on the road. Numb it out like a well trained soldier Sam. Just keep moving your legs forward and no one will notice you’re a walking corpse.
Act as if you value the life blood in you. Act as if you love life and your brother and that damned car. Don’t tell anyone that when you went on that wild goose chase with the Ghostfacers, you nearly let Mordecai kill you with no weapons on your person to save two little shits that created the damn thing.
And there was even when you stopped being okay with your human side, when those sick freaks captured you and wanted to hunt you because it was fun.
Shortly after he stands over his brothers tube filled body in a hospital, wondering if he could bargain, if he could empty himself of his difference his sin his wrong if they would just let Dean live? No, they wanted his father's soul. Of course. When there was a perfectly good monster right there fit for hell just waiting, take a good man instead.
What do you do when one day you’re told you are correct? You have demon blood coursing through you. Knowing that with your fathers dying breath, he told your brother, you’re entire only family, that one day he may have to kill you. Because of the freak that you are, the monster.
You ignore it say you’re normal, you’re fine, then you’re ripped to demon Battle Royale. One walks away to open the mouth of hell! Never in your life have you wanted to give up so badly. To slit your wrists and throat just for good measure. Watch it all run out, warm against your rapidly cooling skin. Unfortunately, you think it’s you, you finally see Dean again...and then it’s all black.
There was the literal battle of hell on earth. You got to watch your brother lose his only chance to have a normal wife and child with Lisa. But there’s a light at the end of the tunnel! You meet a beautiful demon named Ruby. She’s not like other demons, she teaches you all how to make more cult bullets, has a demon killing blade. And this new little trick. After Gabriel makes you live 6 months with a dead Dean. The coldest most purposeless months of his life. He has no idea why he keeps going if only to find Dean again. Dean is found and Ruby tries to talk sense into Sam,
“Like you haven’t noticed the way he looks at you like some little sideshow freak.”
It stings.
Much like your latest attempt to get rid of the ‘freak show’ aspect of yourself.
In what they thought was the war to end all wars, Lillith possesses Ruby, tries unsuccessfully to kill Sam, and sicks the hounds of hell on Dean. Ending his life. Sam tries to bargain with a crossroads demon, his dirty soul for Deans, but no dice. He’s too wrong.
Then one day, when he sat where he had burried his brother, freshly sharpened straight razor in hand pressing, ever so slightly, harder...and harder...cool metal feeling like a glass of ice water in the Sahara, freedom, he noticed... the dirt was upturned.
Castiel, their angel, had gripped him tight and ripped him from perdition. Here to wash Dean clean of all his sins. Their angel that raised Dean from hell and called Sam an abomination in the same breath. Their angel that was really Deans angel. But that wasn’t really talked about.
And when the ghoul of Adam got him, when they slit his arms open and he felt no pain, no sadness, just sweet release... They said he tasted different. Used the word monster. He knew the knife digging into his forearm was his way out.
They bled him out into bowl and said 'the more you struggle the more you bleed.'
And to this day he will say the struggle was instinct but really it was the need to get it out. And when dean saved him and he saw all that disgusting demon sick in those bowls...he smiled a little. A little more clean. And now he had reason for some scars other than just fights.
The nights of sneaking out of the motel to down his demonic vice, licking it off his fingers like it was the elixir of life. Calling Ruby for his fix, begging, pleading, needing..
And then he ganked that demon bitch and drank, no he practically ate her in front of everyone.
Sam Winchester hates the blood in his veins.
It’s what makes him an abomination.
It’s the same blood that bonds him to the most important person in his life.
That thought stops him from wanting to pour it all out.
Everyday.
Put in the drunk tank
“If I didn't know you... I would want to hunt you”
Straight through his heart.
"I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean....”
Or can he...
He scrapes some scrap metal on the floor for hours to a point, just as he starts carving at himself, deeply, madly, crazed. Must get it out, must be human, not an abomination, my father loved me, my brother loves me.
The door opens...How? He’ll never know.
He escapes and puts bobbys gun to his chest and says shoot. Little does the man know that he’s entirely serious, someone, God, Lucifer, PLEASE, end it. Put him down like the unwanted mutt he is.
But no, he’s right back in Ruby’s arms, and soon raising Satan.
All Hail, Sam Winchester, the anti-Christ.
Found nights later, peeling strips of flesh off of his arms and thighs and scrubbing with a cloth and soap. When Dean subdues him and gets the sharp objects and objects of ‘cleansing’ away he asks why, Sam laughs.
“I...haha. I can rip it out Dean! I can scrub it clean. I wont be an abomination anymore, you’ll love me again, dad will love me again, mom will come back, you’ll be happy...”
“Oh, God, Sammy...”
Sam becomes hysterical,
“Gods not here, Dean.”