Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
collegedropout) wrote2013-08-12 09:53 pm
collegedropout) wrote2013-08-12 09:53 pm
Entry tags:
IC Contact.
"This is Sam -- just leave a message, I'll get back to you."
"This is Sam -- just leave a message, I'll get back to you."
[Though Dean missed out on some of the more crucial aspects of the conversation between Sam and Crowley, he saw enough. And that emotional call back? Yeah, it's time for a brief intervention. Dean gets it — Crowley is a piece of shit demon in serious need of being put down just like they put down his dog once, but they can't rush into anything, and Dean half-expects that Sam'll be gearing up to go. Without him.
Because let's face it, there are still some serious trust issues there that they haven't quite patched up.
So he seeks out Sam, finds him, and sees that he's looking for something.
Dean can guess what that something might be.]
Sammy.
[Serious time.]
Slow down.
Because let's face it, there are still some serious trust issues there that they haven't quite patched up.
So he seeks out Sam, finds him, and sees that he's looking for something.
Dean can guess what that something might be.]
Sammy.
[Serious time.]
Slow down.
[Sam just flat out ignores him, too engrossed in the task of pushing things to the side, knocking books over because those don't break, whatever, not important — he sees red, and his hands are vibrating with it and maybe a little something more hurt, because if that's true — demons lie. They lie, and Crowley could just be saying that to piss him off. There's no proof she's gone. There's none. But then he rewinds through that conversation and knows what Crowley's capable of.
He talks to himself, quick and bitter and confused.]
How did he know — how —
[How did he know about Sarah. How did he find her. Why her. Why can't he get one single break? Fucking hell, did she really have a kid? A normal life? Something worth holding onto? And it got fucking ruined by Samuel Winchester. Great. Mr. Cursed, Mr. Ladies Man, murdering anyone he bothers trying to love.
Well, fine, whatever. He can handle the misery. He deserves it. But they don't — Sarah and Jess sure didn't fucking deserve it, and he couldn't save Madison, couldn't help Amy, couldn't do anything but sit back — ]
He talks to himself, quick and bitter and confused.]
How did he know — how —
[How did he know about Sarah. How did he find her. Why her. Why can't he get one single break? Fucking hell, did she really have a kid? A normal life? Something worth holding onto? And it got fucking ruined by Samuel Winchester. Great. Mr. Cursed, Mr. Ladies Man, murdering anyone he bothers trying to love.
Well, fine, whatever. He can handle the misery. He deserves it. But they don't — Sarah and Jess sure didn't fucking deserve it, and he couldn't save Madison, couldn't help Amy, couldn't do anything but sit back — ]
[Shit. Dean watches for a moment, hearing Sam babble about the conversation, but then finally moves into the room and takes Sam by the arm. Hard. Jerks him so that Sam will face him and stop searching for just a god damn minute.]
Sam.
[Even more serious.]
Stop.
[Then again, for good measure.]
Stop. Sam, you can't just jump into something like this. You need to sit down and chill out.
Sam.
[Even more serious.]
Stop.
[Then again, for good measure.]
Stop. Sam, you can't just jump into something like this. You need to sit down and chill out.
Chill out?
[He jerks his arm away, that hurt and indignation flashing across his face — not directed at Dean, but expanding out, ready to explode; Sam was doing okay. He was fine. Mortified for a second there, but it's not the worst shit he's ever heard, not the most degrading thing — he's beat himself up plenty worse for it elsewhere, that even Crowley's stupid ass can't get to.
But then Sarah came up, and he can't control that — not all this, the old sort of desperation he's ashamed to let get dragged back up. He barely knew her, barely got a chance to care about her, and for good reason. He wasn't supposed to rekindle anything like Jess. Wasn't supposed to forgive himself and move on, get a kiss or two here, a roll in the sack there.
He's 100% convinced the fucking kiss did her in.
Because yeah, he's cursed.]
Someone else is probably dead because of me. Again. I screwed up another person's life, just because I liked her.
[He turns back to the shelf, a little raw-edged and honest, too heated to control whatever rambles out of his stupid maw.]
How was I supposed to know? I was just a stupid floppy-haired kid who's biggest whinefest was visions. Should've known after Jess to just let it go; is that the big life lesson, or what? Sam Winchester gets everyone killed by proxy? I get it, I'm a living disease, whatever.
[He leans his head against the wall, scoffing.
Fuck.
Of course.
He shakes his head slowly, muttering under his breath; how preposterous.]
The books... Of course, it was the damn books. Jesus...
[He jerks his arm away, that hurt and indignation flashing across his face — not directed at Dean, but expanding out, ready to explode; Sam was doing okay. He was fine. Mortified for a second there, but it's not the worst shit he's ever heard, not the most degrading thing — he's beat himself up plenty worse for it elsewhere, that even Crowley's stupid ass can't get to.
But then Sarah came up, and he can't control that — not all this, the old sort of desperation he's ashamed to let get dragged back up. He barely knew her, barely got a chance to care about her, and for good reason. He wasn't supposed to rekindle anything like Jess. Wasn't supposed to forgive himself and move on, get a kiss or two here, a roll in the sack there.
He's 100% convinced the fucking kiss did her in.
Because yeah, he's cursed.]
Someone else is probably dead because of me. Again. I screwed up another person's life, just because I liked her.
[He turns back to the shelf, a little raw-edged and honest, too heated to control whatever rambles out of his stupid maw.]
How was I supposed to know? I was just a stupid floppy-haired kid who's biggest whinefest was visions. Should've known after Jess to just let it go; is that the big life lesson, or what? Sam Winchester gets everyone killed by proxy? I get it, I'm a living disease, whatever.
[He leans his head against the wall, scoffing.
Fuck.
Of course.
He shakes his head slowly, muttering under his breath; how preposterous.]
The books... Of course, it was the damn books. Jesus...
[Dean hates this. Hates seeing Sam tear into himself like this, hates that Crowley got under his skin to such a degree, hates that Crowley is even around with his stupid hellhounds, being a thorn in their sides like always.
When he speaks, his voice is quiet. He doesn't move to touch Sam again — gives him his space.]
You couldn't know.
[And while it may not be comforting, it's a simple fact. He couldn't know that something bad would have happened to Sarah, couldn't know that they'd be dealing with deeper shit than they could have even imagined back then. There's no way. Back then, Sam was still such a kid. They both were, really. So ignorant of all the shit that was out there, just waiting for them.]
You wanna get him, Sammy, we'll get him. You and me. We'll put him in a devil's trap or kill him over and over again, or whatever it takes. We'll do it.
[Dean will be right there with you.]
But we can't rush into it. We need a plan.
[Dude has seven freaking hellhounds. Maybe. Dean isn't so sure he was telling the truth, but if he was — yeah, they can't just run in, guns blazing.]
When he speaks, his voice is quiet. He doesn't move to touch Sam again — gives him his space.]
You couldn't know.
[And while it may not be comforting, it's a simple fact. He couldn't know that something bad would have happened to Sarah, couldn't know that they'd be dealing with deeper shit than they could have even imagined back then. There's no way. Back then, Sam was still such a kid. They both were, really. So ignorant of all the shit that was out there, just waiting for them.]
You wanna get him, Sammy, we'll get him. You and me. We'll put him in a devil's trap or kill him over and over again, or whatever it takes. We'll do it.
[Dean will be right there with you.]
But we can't rush into it. We need a plan.
[Dude has seven freaking hellhounds. Maybe. Dean isn't so sure he was telling the truth, but if he was — yeah, they can't just run in, guns blazing.]
[Sam doesn't move from where he's pathetically leaned. Maybe he's just too embarrassed that he let it get to him this bad — but what's he supposed to do? Lately it's just been him looking at his failures. Failure after failure after failure. Couldn't save people he bothered loving, let Dean down like always, unable to clean up his mess at shut the gates of hell from here.
Goddamn, he was sick of being the fuck-up. It made his bones hurt.]
He said she had a daughter. She had a kid. They're not going to have a mom, either.
[Because of Sam.
He couldn't even remotely justify it being Dean's fault, too, because it wasn't. Not even close. It rarely ever was, even if Dean couldn't see it, being as guilt-ridden as he is. Sam's accepted the fact that he got too many people to count hurt and killed, because of mistakes he's made. He served his time and he hopes it's enough to atone for it. It probably wasn't, never would be, but he'd hoped he earned just a little contentment.
Fat chance, that.
And after a while, it's hard to even stay numb to these things. Even after all this time. Sam had a connection there. Sam made her a target. Anybody who made Sam feel good about himself for even a moment was on the chopping block. Suppose it was karma for the future.]
... Yeah...
[He breathes out, finally, turning around and sliding to sit in the middle of upturned books, arms on his knees, the fight rushing out of him. Now he just feels sick and exhausted. Would probably even shed a tear or two, if Winchesters would just react like normal human beings. Crowley got him riled up. He won this one. Got Sam miserable enough that it'll sit with him for a week, maybe even two, and Sam knows it. Especially in a place where all he can do outside of study is think.]
I know.
[He scrubs his hands over his hair, not sure what else to say.
God, he hates this.]
I know. No rushing. I know.
Goddamn, he was sick of being the fuck-up. It made his bones hurt.]
He said she had a daughter. She had a kid. They're not going to have a mom, either.
[Because of Sam.
He couldn't even remotely justify it being Dean's fault, too, because it wasn't. Not even close. It rarely ever was, even if Dean couldn't see it, being as guilt-ridden as he is. Sam's accepted the fact that he got too many people to count hurt and killed, because of mistakes he's made. He served his time and he hopes it's enough to atone for it. It probably wasn't, never would be, but he'd hoped he earned just a little contentment.
Fat chance, that.
And after a while, it's hard to even stay numb to these things. Even after all this time. Sam had a connection there. Sam made her a target. Anybody who made Sam feel good about himself for even a moment was on the chopping block. Suppose it was karma for the future.]
... Yeah...
[He breathes out, finally, turning around and sliding to sit in the middle of upturned books, arms on his knees, the fight rushing out of him. Now he just feels sick and exhausted. Would probably even shed a tear or two, if Winchesters would just react like normal human beings. Crowley got him riled up. He won this one. Got Sam miserable enough that it'll sit with him for a week, maybe even two, and Sam knows it. Especially in a place where all he can do outside of study is think.]
I know.
[He scrubs his hands over his hair, not sure what else to say.
God, he hates this.]
I know. No rushing. I know.
[Doesn't matter whether Sam can justify it or not, Dean will always blame himself. There's one reason Sam returned to hunting — one reason he met Sarah at all — and that's because Dean pulled him right back into this. Took him away from Jess, and kick-started everything. He doesn't believe in destiny — he and Sam both told destiny to shove it, what seems like ages ago — and so the burden falls on someone. That someone is Dean. If he had left Sam, all those years ago, to just live out his happy life with Jess, none of this would have happened. No Purgatory, no apocalypse, no hell. No Crowley, no nothing. Sam would be a lawyer, married and happy, and Dean would be out there killing the bad guys. Or dead.
But Sam wouldn't have had this.
Things are different, now, because they have unfinished business. Just like Sam had unfinished business when he decided to turn off his phone for a year, while Dean rotted in Purgatory. They have responsibilities and people relying on them. Sam sees a way out, but he'll never be able to get the hell out if demons like Crowley keep getting in the way. Which is exactly why the trials are so damn important.
It's fucked, though — that they just have one problem after another after another, unrelenting, and they keep trudging on until everyone they love gets pulled in somehow. That Dean has to crouch down opposite of Sam, and offer him words that really aren't all that comforting, words that can't keep the guilt at bay. That they both know that someone else gets pulled into the vortex and dies because of it.]
We'll stop him. He won't be able to hurt anyone else after we finish the trials.
[Because they're getting home. Dean doesn't doubt that. They have a good angle, good leads, everything they need. They're going to go home, and they're going to seal up hell, and maybe they'll kill Crowley too. For the hell of it. Here, there — both places. Why the hell not?
He's nothing compared to Leviathans and Lucifer and everything else. He's just Crowley — a demon on a power trip.]
No rushing, but we'll make it happen.
[They always do.]
But Sam wouldn't have had this.
Things are different, now, because they have unfinished business. Just like Sam had unfinished business when he decided to turn off his phone for a year, while Dean rotted in Purgatory. They have responsibilities and people relying on them. Sam sees a way out, but he'll never be able to get the hell out if demons like Crowley keep getting in the way. Which is exactly why the trials are so damn important.
It's fucked, though — that they just have one problem after another after another, unrelenting, and they keep trudging on until everyone they love gets pulled in somehow. That Dean has to crouch down opposite of Sam, and offer him words that really aren't all that comforting, words that can't keep the guilt at bay. That they both know that someone else gets pulled into the vortex and dies because of it.]
We'll stop him. He won't be able to hurt anyone else after we finish the trials.
[Because they're getting home. Dean doesn't doubt that. They have a good angle, good leads, everything they need. They're going to go home, and they're going to seal up hell, and maybe they'll kill Crowley too. For the hell of it. Here, there — both places. Why the hell not?
He's nothing compared to Leviathans and Lucifer and everything else. He's just Crowley — a demon on a power trip.]
No rushing, but we'll make it happen.
[They always do.]
Edited (not-so-ninja edits what up) 2013-08-20 09:00 (UTC)
[And no matter where Sam's pulled from, no matter the time or place, he always takes Dean's words to heart, especially when he's desperate for that validation. He looks up meekly from under skewed bangs, inhaling deep. Honestly, he looks a little defeated for the day, like Dean stopping him had just punched the energy out of his whole body.
But he nods, after a moment.
Just... a little more. Just a little more fight. Then they can close it all up and rest. Sam doesn't want his soul bone-tired again, like he had the year before that. He just... wants to feel good again. He had that. For a moment, he had that. He just -- needs to do this one thing; his responsibility. His penance for Dean and for letting down so many others when those gates snapped open under his watch.
They'll finish the trials. Sam'll do whatever he has to.
He won't let you down, Dean. ]
Finally put him out of business.
But he nods, after a moment.
Just... a little more. Just a little more fight. Then they can close it all up and rest. Sam doesn't want his soul bone-tired again, like he had the year before that. He just... wants to feel good again. He had that. For a moment, he had that. He just -- needs to do this one thing; his responsibility. His penance for Dean and for letting down so many others when those gates snapped open under his watch.
They'll finish the trials. Sam'll do whatever he has to.
He won't let you down, Dean. ]
Finally put him out of business.
[And it's as simple as that. A little further, just a little bit more, and then Sam can get out just like he wants, have his happy ending and a girl and whatever else he tried to have going for him during Dean's time in Purgatory. Dean'll keep hunting, because that's what he does, and there will still be vengeful spirits to be put to rest and monsters to put down.
But there will be no more deals and no more Crowley and no more demons they need to hunt down in revenge.]
Him and the rest of Hell.
[Dean stands back up and nods toward the books Sam knocked over.]
Come on. Better get those cleaned up before Cas sees.
But there will be no more deals and no more Crowley and no more demons they need to hunt down in revenge.]
Him and the rest of Hell.
[Dean stands back up and nods toward the books Sam knocked over.]
Come on. Better get those cleaned up before Cas sees.
Yeah.
[He starts collecting the fallen books, frowning. Pauses for a moment with one hanging limply in his hand, on his thigh, as though he's considering something and if he should or shouldn't say it.]
I'm sorry.
[About... freaking out. Losing his cool. That never ends well.
He probably would have done something stupid. Again.]
[He starts collecting the fallen books, frowning. Pauses for a moment with one hanging limply in his hand, on his thigh, as though he's considering something and if he should or shouldn't say it.]
I'm sorry.
[About... freaking out. Losing his cool. That never ends well.
He probably would have done something stupid. Again.]
[Dean stands quietly, watching Sam pick up the books. When he pauses and apologizes, Dean doesn't respond for a moment. He thinks about the state that Sam was just in, and the trials that are still looming before him. It's not the first time that he thinks that he should probably take over, somehow. Find another hellhound and take on the burden of the trials.
He doesn't say that, though, because the trials are on the back burner until they get back. Their focus can't be on that, and he doesn't want to prompt yet another argument between himself and Sam.
Instead, he nods once in acknowledgement.]
You should go for one of your walks when you're done with that. Clear your head.
[And with that, he moves to leave the room.]
He doesn't say that, though, because the trials are on the back burner until they get back. Their focus can't be on that, and he doesn't want to prompt yet another argument between himself and Sam.
Instead, he nods once in acknowledgement.]
You should go for one of your walks when you're done with that. Clear your head.
[And with that, he moves to leave the room.]
... Sounds like a plan.
[But even after Dean leaves and the books are stacked beside him, Sam can't bring himself to go out there. Not yet. Too busy feeling his heart crack a little bit for the day; well, Sarah, you were right. You could die any day, that's what life was — didn't get hit by a car, though. Just had the worst luck ever, getting something supernatural stuck around you, getting Sam to investigate it. Making him think maybe you had a point. Jesus. He wonders how old the kid was. What husband out there is going to lose their wife, in the future? They see death so often, Sam could easily push it to the back of his mind.
But there are some deaths that are hard to shake. There's all their friends, yeah, but there are others. Sam still thinks of Dean's brush with death, how Sam caused an innocent man to die in his place. Sometimes he thinks about the nurse in the trunk, how he killed her for her blood, and all for what?
Sam's let a lot of things go. Had, anyway.
But not everything. Not everyone. He could add Sarah Blake to the list, too.
He breathes, leans against the wall, closes his eyes.
Too many thoughts, again, Sam. You think too much. It'll get overwhelming again. And when things get overwhelming for Sam Winchester, he runs or he self-destructs. At the very least almost takes on a king of hell. And we don't like those options right now.
Yeah... a walk. Maybe later.]
[But even after Dean leaves and the books are stacked beside him, Sam can't bring himself to go out there. Not yet. Too busy feeling his heart crack a little bit for the day; well, Sarah, you were right. You could die any day, that's what life was — didn't get hit by a car, though. Just had the worst luck ever, getting something supernatural stuck around you, getting Sam to investigate it. Making him think maybe you had a point. Jesus. He wonders how old the kid was. What husband out there is going to lose their wife, in the future? They see death so often, Sam could easily push it to the back of his mind.
But there are some deaths that are hard to shake. There's all their friends, yeah, but there are others. Sam still thinks of Dean's brush with death, how Sam caused an innocent man to die in his place. Sometimes he thinks about the nurse in the trunk, how he killed her for her blood, and all for what?
Sam's let a lot of things go. Had, anyway.
But not everything. Not everyone. He could add Sarah Blake to the list, too.
He breathes, leans against the wall, closes his eyes.
Too many thoughts, again, Sam. You think too much. It'll get overwhelming again. And when things get overwhelming for Sam Winchester, he runs or he self-destructs. At the very least almost takes on a king of hell. And we don't like those options right now.
Yeah... a walk. Maybe later.]
Aaaaren't we a little under-equipped, though?
Dean
are you bored somewhere getting bad ideas?
Dean
are you bored somewhere getting bad ideas?
Yeah, but we usually at least figure out what we're hunting before we hunt it.
... Usually. Relatively.
The dragon meat broadcast made you restless, didn't it.
... Usually. Relatively.
The dragon meat broadcast made you restless, didn't it.
Stooping kinda low there.
I was going the moment you asked.
[stupid]
Still think we're under-equipped for dragons, though.
I was going the moment you asked.
[stupid]
Still think we're under-equipped for dragons, though.
[You'd better not be like a kid at christmas the entire time, I will just lock you in a room somewhere.
Besides, he only needs one reason to go.
And that's super sappy and we don't do sappy.]
Good. Because I'm not really into dying by something breathing fire on me.
Unless you go for a 'Swan Dragon'.
Besides, he only needs one reason to go.
And that's super sappy and we don't do sappy.]
Good. Because I'm not really into dying by something breathing fire on me.
Unless you go for a 'Swan Dragon'.
[If kids at Christmas time are culture-shocky and a tiny bit bloodthirsty, then you hit the nail right on the head.
He knows you have his back with these forays into the city's unknowns. All this back and forth is for your benefit.]
what the hell is a swan dragon
is it tasty
He knows you have his back with these forays into the city's unknowns. All this back and forth is for your benefit.]
what the hell is a swan dragon
is it tasty
Edited (i always do this late at night) 2013-08-24 10:50 (UTC)
It's exactly what it sounds like, dude.
Use your imagination.
And I have no idea. I've never eaten swan dragon. It's gotta be better than dragon meat, though. Bird tastes good most of the time, right?
Use your imagination.
And I have no idea. I've never eaten swan dragon. It's gotta be better than dragon meat, though. Bird tastes good most of the time, right?
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