023- [Voice]

[wayward_sam]

[This is not Sam's happy voice. But it isn't Sam's drunk!voice or angry!voice, either. Dean knows it all too well - it's the voice Sam uses when he's been turning things over in his head so much that he can't help but break down just a little.]

I don't know why... why this place always manages to find the one thing that gets to me. It's an event, I

Comments

LOOOOOOG

[viva_la_impala]

It was rare for Sam to cry, even if he was more comfortable with showing his emotions than Dean. The younger Winchester was always honest, had no trouble venting frustration, annoyance, and anger, even optimism at times when it seemed utterly inappropriate. But signs of weakness were something their father had beaten out of them at an early age. They just didn't have time for it anymore, not if they were going to survive.

Sam used to cry a lot when they were little, in lonely cold hotel rooms across America, and Dean would sit up every night pretending to bitch and moan, gently rubbing his brother's back or lying down next to him till they both fell asleep. But there was something heartwrenching about Sam crying now, as an adult. Dean knew that Jess's death had been horribly traumatizing to Sam for reasons he'd never made Sam divulge and could only guess at.

Sam hadn't mentioned her in ages. Not since Bloody Mary, but Dean was going to make him get it all out now even if he had to get him drunk to do it. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he'd brought a bottle of Jack Daniels just in case. Sometimes it made things hurt less.

Raising a hand he banged on the dooor. "Sammy! Open up ya big crybaby!"

Re: LOOOOOOG

[wayward_sam]

Sam was in his bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. On one hand, he was observing how sunken and red his eyes were, both from lack of sleep and from the terror of each of the nightmares as they had progressively gotten worse. And on the other hand, he couldn't help but wonder what his mirror self was thinking, watching him right now as he rinsed his face with cold water. The more closely Sam tried to look at himself, the more he realized that there were things there that he didn't want to see. Things that old Yellow Eyes had seen all along.

Shuddering as he cast his reflection an icy glare, Sam forced himself to pull away from his staring contest when he heard Dean's voice. He didn't want Dean to be there. This wasn't something that Dean needed to get involved in. Hell, Sam realized that he didn't even know how much Dean knew about Jessica or Yellow Eyes; the brothers had been ripped from different times, after all. Sam didn't want to say anything that could mess this version of his brother up. But then, he had already forced Dean to kill him, so how much more messed up could he get?

Grabbing a towel and drying off his face, Sam went towards the room door. He debated for a moment whether or not to open it. There were things that Dean just didn't need to know right now. But then, Sam remembered that Dean was the older brother. Dean could shoulder some of Sam's burden. It didn't have to be all on him. That's what his Dean back home kept telling him, right? And this Dean was pretty much the same, right?

Taking a deep breath, Sam reached out and opened the door. Staring at Dean blankly, he draped the towel over his shoulder and remarked, "Yeah, I look like crap. I know."

Re: LOOOOOOG

[viva_la_impala]

[I is sorry. I need to continue this tomorrow sos Chelle can get some sleep and I can too. I'll be on tomorrow all day pretty much. Finishing Traffic School and stuff. Because this could mean some really awesome writing from both of us.Thanks for being willing to do it.]

Re: LOOOOOOG

[wayward_sam]

[No probs. RL always comes first. And you know I'm always up for Winchester logs, or any logs for this game. This is the only place where I don't feel any pressure whatsoever. :) G'night!]

Re: LOOOOOOG

[viva_la_impala]

Dean noted the dark circles that had cropped up under Sam's eyes. They weren't an unusual sight when the two of them had worked cases back home, but they'd never been so pronounced.Not since... If he had to guess he'd say that Sam hadn't slept in days.

"You're having nightmares again. Not sleeping. It's understandable. You get a grace period from me poking fun at your stupid ass."

He pushed past Sam into the room, eyes searching for anything that might give him a clue as to the root of Sam's woes. All he saw was a bed that looked like it hadn't been slept in and a number of open books on the desk, typical Sam MO. Setting the Jack on the desk he turned to Sam and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What's going on Sam? And don't tell me it's none of my bussiness. You're my brother. I make it my bussiness."

Bedside manner was not Dean's forte, but if he acted in a more tender manner it could possibly put his brother on the defensive. When he wanted to, Sam could be extremely closed and private and it wasn't Dean's place to try and ply him by being tender and coddling. Sam would never buy a gentle Dean. Confessions only came after blows or at gunpoint among the Winchesters most of the time. Dean hoped it wouldn't come to that. Not again.

Re: LOOOOOOG

[wayward_sam]

As Dean began to speak, Sam turned away from him. He wasn't stupid enough to think that giving Dean his back would make him ease off, but he liked to pretend sometimes. He liked to pretend a lot of things, but that wasn't important right now.

He grabbed a brown hooded sweatshirt that was draped over a chair and began pulling it on. "Yeah, I know," he croaked out, noticing his throat was dry. He eyed the bottle of liquor that was now on his desk. It'd be all too easy to grab it and chug it down, warbling off the details of his dreams to Dean. But he couldn't do that. For one, Sam was a firm believer in never telling a time traveler any details about the future (he had seen enough science fiction pictures, after all), and he didn't want to risk telling Dean the wrong thing. Hell, did he even know that their father and Yellow Eyes were both dead?

Another reason against getting himself plastered was the nature of the situation. He couldn't drown Jessica out. Not only would it be impossible, but she deserved better than that. A lot better.

After a while of silence, Sam crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. His eyes on the floor, he let out a mirthless smirk as he lowly asked, "Did I ever tell you that I was going to marry her?" Finally meeting Dean's eyes, he swallowed before ruefully proclaiming, "I started comparing the prices of rings, can you believe that? I thought she was so out of my league for the longest time, and hell, I still thought so. I was about fifty percent sure that she was going to turn me down. But life's about taking chances, right?"

He hesitated, swallowing with difficulty. At length, Sam demanded, "Why didn't I get my chance, Dean? I was practically a full-fledged Boy Scout, helping little old ladies cross the street and elementary school kids escape demonic evil. I paid my dues, Dean. So why did Jess have to pay, too?"