Hurt, Abandoned, and Alone
Title: Hurt, Abandoned, and Alone
Author: KliqzAngel
Characters: Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, and OC
Pairing: None
Content: Dark!Sam, AU, Character Death (but not Sam or Dean)
Disclaimer: I own no one! Characters belong to Eric Kripke.
Rating: PG-13
Songs: Song at top of story is Abandoned and Alone by Bad Company. Song snippets at bottom come from Hurt by Johnny Cash/Nine Inch Nails
Notes: This started out to be a Dean story and turned into what is below. I’ve been thinking about a different Sam for awhile and I guess it’s time to start letting him talk. This is DEFINITELY not the Sam we know! This could turn into a ‘Verse. Maybe. I am considering letting it take the place of the Being ‘Verse at least for the moment, as I seem to have completely lost the thread of where the characters were going for that one.
I'm abandoned and alone, no easy road
Side against a side, no place to hide
I'm abandoned and alone, no easy road
Leaves a man a tormented soul
If I wondered why, maybe I would break
If I wondered how much more I can take
If I changed my mind, who could I tell?
If I made the time, I know that well
The tumbler slammed down onto the bar’s dark wooden top with a thunk so loud that the bartender was surprised the glass didn’t crack. Surely, it was only the thick glass bottom that saved it. “Another,” he heard, the deep gravelly voice ground out. Smoke from the cigarette dangling from between the stranger’s lips swirling around his head like a cloud of fog on the bay.
He considered arguing, but quickly discarded the idea. He’d spend a lot of years behind his bar, and knew well which ones you just didn’t mess with. Pulling the bottle off its shelf behind him, he made his way over the bottle bobbling slightly as he poured exposing his nervous state to the man in front of him. When he went to move away, he found his hand trapped, iron strong fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Leave it, and go,” the man ordered and the bartender didn’t think twice about doing anything, but what he was told.
To look at the man you’d think he’d been though two lifetime’s worth of battles, leaving him an old man. His eyes were cold and hard. His hair was long, brushing his shoulders with a full beard covering his chin, a scar running parallel down the left hand side of his face.
But, there were things that whispered to you that this one wasn’t maybe as old as he appeared. His hair and beard were without streaks of white or silver. His eyes showed only the faintest hints of wrinkles at the corners. His skin was smooth without any signs of aging. They left you wondering if this was an old man who’d found a fountain of youth, or a young man who’d lived with a lifetime of torment and torture.
The bottle that had been put in front of him emptied steadily, with seemingly little effect. Even a man of his size should have been effected long ago, but he sat as upright as he’d been when he’d walked in, his had as steady as it was then, every drop moving smoothly from the bottle to the tumbler.
He didn’t know if he should be impressed or frightened further.
Finally, the man stood, long, black, leather trench coat swirling around him as he reached behind him. For a moment the bartender froze unsure if he should duck or run, but quickly some bills appeared on the bar top. Then without so much as a ‘have a good day’ the man turned and left his steps as confident and steady as they’d been coming in.
As he watched the stranger leave, the bartender decided this was a man, regardless of age, who’d lived a long hard life and any mortal man would be better off just stepping out of his path. He was without a doubt a man you just didn’t want to mess with.
Stepping out into the darkening night, the stranger looked around and let the dying cigarette fall to the ground to burn itself into ashes as another was pulled out and put in its place.
“It’s about time to get going. You ready to kill this bastard, Sam?”
Sam turned his cold eyes towards where Bobby hovered on the outskirts of his consciousness and wordlessly nodded. The older man was long ago dead, but his presence had remained somewhere between ghost and guardian. A figure Sam had long since accepted and grown accustomed to, even if it brought him little comfort.
“This sonofabitch may have answers on where your brother is. So, try and not kill him until after you get answers this time, huh?” Bobby reminded only to be quietly ignored. Something he was used to. He’d never learned to tell if Sam was paying attention to him or not.
Not for the first time since his death, Bobby wondered which Winchester would have less humanity remaining, when this was all said and done.
The one who had been missing for the last 5 years?
Or, the one who’d been left to battle on his own.
Either way, Bobby knew neither brother would be the same as they’d been the last time they’d met.
God help them all.
I hurt myself today,
to see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain,
the only thing that's real.
What have I become?
My sweetest friend .
Everyone I know,
goes away in the end.
And you could have it all,
my empire of dirt.
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.
I wear this crown of thorns,
upon my liar's chair.
Full of broken thoughts,
I cannot repair.
Beneath the stains of time,
the feelings disappear.
You are someone else.
I am still right here.
Author: KliqzAngel
Characters: Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, and OC
Pairing: None
Content: Dark!Sam, AU, Character Death (but not Sam or Dean)
Disclaimer: I own no one! Characters belong to Eric Kripke.
Rating: PG-13
Songs: Song at top of story is Abandoned and Alone by Bad Company. Song snippets at bottom come from Hurt by Johnny Cash/Nine Inch Nails
Notes: This started out to be a Dean story and turned into what is below. I’ve been thinking about a different Sam for awhile and I guess it’s time to start letting him talk. This is DEFINITELY not the Sam we know! This could turn into a ‘Verse. Maybe. I am considering letting it take the place of the Being ‘Verse at least for the moment, as I seem to have completely lost the thread of where the characters were going for that one.
I'm abandoned and alone, no easy road
Side against a side, no place to hide
I'm abandoned and alone, no easy road
Leaves a man a tormented soul
If I wondered why, maybe I would break
If I wondered how much more I can take
If I changed my mind, who could I tell?
If I made the time, I know that well
The tumbler slammed down onto the bar’s dark wooden top with a thunk so loud that the bartender was surprised the glass didn’t crack. Surely, it was only the thick glass bottom that saved it. “Another,” he heard, the deep gravelly voice ground out. Smoke from the cigarette dangling from between the stranger’s lips swirling around his head like a cloud of fog on the bay.
He considered arguing, but quickly discarded the idea. He’d spend a lot of years behind his bar, and knew well which ones you just didn’t mess with. Pulling the bottle off its shelf behind him, he made his way over the bottle bobbling slightly as he poured exposing his nervous state to the man in front of him. When he went to move away, he found his hand trapped, iron strong fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Leave it, and go,” the man ordered and the bartender didn’t think twice about doing anything, but what he was told.
To look at the man you’d think he’d been though two lifetime’s worth of battles, leaving him an old man. His eyes were cold and hard. His hair was long, brushing his shoulders with a full beard covering his chin, a scar running parallel down the left hand side of his face.
But, there were things that whispered to you that this one wasn’t maybe as old as he appeared. His hair and beard were without streaks of white or silver. His eyes showed only the faintest hints of wrinkles at the corners. His skin was smooth without any signs of aging. They left you wondering if this was an old man who’d found a fountain of youth, or a young man who’d lived with a lifetime of torment and torture.
The bottle that had been put in front of him emptied steadily, with seemingly little effect. Even a man of his size should have been effected long ago, but he sat as upright as he’d been when he’d walked in, his had as steady as it was then, every drop moving smoothly from the bottle to the tumbler.
He didn’t know if he should be impressed or frightened further.
Finally, the man stood, long, black, leather trench coat swirling around him as he reached behind him. For a moment the bartender froze unsure if he should duck or run, but quickly some bills appeared on the bar top. Then without so much as a ‘have a good day’ the man turned and left his steps as confident and steady as they’d been coming in.
As he watched the stranger leave, the bartender decided this was a man, regardless of age, who’d lived a long hard life and any mortal man would be better off just stepping out of his path. He was without a doubt a man you just didn’t want to mess with.
Stepping out into the darkening night, the stranger looked around and let the dying cigarette fall to the ground to burn itself into ashes as another was pulled out and put in its place.
“It’s about time to get going. You ready to kill this bastard, Sam?”
Sam turned his cold eyes towards where Bobby hovered on the outskirts of his consciousness and wordlessly nodded. The older man was long ago dead, but his presence had remained somewhere between ghost and guardian. A figure Sam had long since accepted and grown accustomed to, even if it brought him little comfort.
“This sonofabitch may have answers on where your brother is. So, try and not kill him until after you get answers this time, huh?” Bobby reminded only to be quietly ignored. Something he was used to. He’d never learned to tell if Sam was paying attention to him or not.
Not for the first time since his death, Bobby wondered which Winchester would have less humanity remaining, when this was all said and done.
The one who had been missing for the last 5 years?
Or, the one who’d been left to battle on his own.
Either way, Bobby knew neither brother would be the same as they’d been the last time they’d met.
God help them all.
I hurt myself today,
to see if I still feel.
I focus on the pain,
the only thing that's real.
What have I become?
My sweetest friend .
Everyone I know,
goes away in the end.
And you could have it all,
my empire of dirt.
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.
I wear this crown of thorns,
upon my liar's chair.
Full of broken thoughts,
I cannot repair.
Beneath the stains of time,
the feelings disappear.
You are someone else.
I am still right here.