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paige_kate
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Okay, this came about because I saw an ad for a H/C comment fic meme, but it was only for Dean, which hardly seems fair to me. What about Sam? He's stuck trying to stop the remaining Leviathan alone and doesn't know how to help his brother. Dean is stuck in Purgatory and worrying about his brother.
So, this meme is for both boys. Reunion!Fics, fics about what monsters Dean runs into in Purgatory, maybe fics where he finds their parents or runs into Bobby or whatever you want, but it needs to be about the fallout from the finale last night. Have fun, any question, PM me. Please respect other people's prompts, no flaming or bashing, lovers of both boys welcome.
Master Post
Delusional/Hallucinating Sam by
queerly_it_is An alone Sam is never a good thing, and Sam uses his mental...issues to cope with things. I'm thinking the hallucinations might show up again hardcore, just so he has someone to talk to again.A world of bonus points if Michael is one of them.
Hyperventilate by
verucasalt123 I would love something where Sam freaks out and hyperventilates once he realizes he really is all alone - and that he has no idea where's Dean, where's Castiel, that he has no one to go to...I just want sad, desperate Sam not knowing what to do, thank you
Essence by
rokhal Crowley gives the boys his blood while telling them it might not be his. He also specifically tells them not to trust him. Yet, there's no sign that the bone/blood weapon will even work until it does. No sign, at least on screen.Sam *knows* that the vial contains Crowley's blood. How? He can smell it. All that demon blood drinking before and with Lucifer. It's changed Sam. Write the missing scene where Sam reveals this to Dean.
Untitled by
dontknowmyname Sam can hear Dean's voice in his head, like he's still there(sorta like Lucifer, but he's talking back and it's keeping him sane
Like, what would Dean say to make me feel better, what's the humor in this situation.
even making a mental note not to - douche up the car- this time
He snaps one day, thinking this is the one time that Dean isn't coming back , maybe Gabrile was right... But should he really let go?
(Gen please)
An Unlikely Partnership by
mollrach13 Sam is not dealing with being alone well. He worries himself into an epic case of the flu (or other illness/condition or your choice). For some reason, it is in Crowley's best interests to take care of him. He does so grudgingly and with much complaint.Basically: Crowley taking care of sick!Sam.
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(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 04:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 07:26 am (UTC)If I somehow find time, I might try but do not in any way let that stop you or anyone else taking a crack at it.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 07:57 am (UTC)The Hunger Games is a worthy distraction. I loved those books.
Hope your little boy is feeling better soon.
Besides, if I had to choose, I think I would prefer you to be working on a continuation of Whiskey :D
Anyway, happy writing and good luck with RL!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 09:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 09:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 02:58 pm (UTC)Refuge: http://purplehrdwonder.livejournal.com/24692.html
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 06:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 07:05 pm (UTC)To get to the point: Sam uses some combination of drugs, potions, fasting, hypothermia, or sensory deprivation to slip loose from his body, then ends up sneaking around behind the Lovecraftian horrors that populate Purgatory and could probably swallow him in one bite. Naturally, something goes horribly wrong.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 08:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 09:25 pm (UTC)Sam is deeply uneasy about his new partner, and Meg tries to soothe his anxiety (which may be an exercise in futility on her part, because Sam's not entirely stupid).
FILLED: Delusional/Hallucinating Sam. 1/4
Date: 2012-05-20 09:43 pm (UTC)Title from Angels and Airwaves. I thought it fitting, somehow.
----------------
Alone.
Tiny word, really. Tiny, and so familiar.
It rings in his head like a bell; Pavlovian response as his stomach knots as his breath shortens; panic-sweat forming on his brow.
Lucifer had liked bells. Used to talk about angels getting their wings as he’d rung different notes in time with the snapping of Sam’s bones.
He gets out of the trashed lab and away from the building without too much trouble; seems Crowley’s demon army has the Leviathan off-balance, for now.
Something visceral in him rebels at the sight of the Impala covered in broken glass and pockmarked with bullet holes; same way it’d rebelled at the thought of a demon driving their car around, necessary diversion or no.
He’s thankful the Leviathan and the other demons don’t care enough to be watching the car, though, and he turns the key Meg’d left in the ignition and gets away from Sucrocorp as fast as he can.
The silence starts to press in on him pretty quick.
He gropes around in the glove compartment as he drives, finds the - slightly dusty - box of Dean’s tapes, and shoves one in at random; sounds of speed metal blaring mid-track.
He drives for hours, no real direction in mind; just needs the familiar sense of movement, the smell of the car and the feel of the seat, something familiar to hold onto until he gets Dean back.
He’s going to get Dean back.
“Aww, but you’ve told yourself that before, haven’t you Sammy?” Every single part of him grinds and clenches at the unexpected voice from the backseat; teasing and so full of remembered pain.
“Didn’t really think I was gone did’ya? I mean, I may have taken a little siesta there, but c’mon, I’m in your head, bunk buddy.” He risks a glance in the rearview mirror; sees Nick’s face giving him a look of totally false sympathy. “That’s the problem with losing all your marbles Sam; you’re still carryin’ the empty bag around.” Last part said in a whisper that carries right over the tape, like he’s conveying a secret.
He focuses on the road in front of him, resolves not to look in the mirror again, to not think about the number of times he‘d had that whisper in his ear. Don’t acknowledge him, don’t talk to him. He isn’t real.
“Oh, I think I’m real enough. You can see me, you can hear me - even if you pretend you can’t - I think I’ll stick around this time.” He’s moving around in the back no he isn’t he isn’t real arranging himself along the seat.
“After all…” Trailing off, and Sam doesn’t want to look back, doesn’t want to know what his delusions have to say “…who else’re you gonna talk to, huh?” He grits his teeth, tries biting on his tongue, pain flaring hot through his nerves.
“Oh no, that’s not gonna work anymore Sammy.” Sing-song voice, taunting. “You let me in once, can’t take it back now.”
He turns the music up, past even Dean’s comfort level. He tries thinking of all the time he’s spent with Dean in this car; all the comforting moments of sleeping while his brother drove, bickering about nothing between hunts, lying on the hood drinking beer.
“I wonder how big bro is doing in Monsterville, huh Sammy?” He doesn’t answer, isn’t going to answer. He got used to Lucifer mentioning Dean to try and get to him centuries ago, and this guy’s isn’t even the real deal; just an aftertaste.
“Dante really had it all wrong, y’know?” Conversational tone now, even though Sam isn’t talking back. “There’s no climbing your way out, no cathartic confrontation of your sins. There’s just darkness, and pain, and every nightmare anyone has ever had.” Words getting harsher; tone he’d used when he’d wanted Sam to ‘learn something’.
His arms feel cold, even though it isn’t cold outside or in the car.
He’s bitten through his tongue, he notes.
“One of my favourite things about it? It’s so damn hard to get out of. The perfect prison, really. Makes my Cage look like a cardboard box.” He doesn’t flinch at the mention of the Cage, just bites down harder; taste of copper in his mouth. “Dad really paid attention to the details with that place.” Tone almost admiring.
FILLED: Delusional/Hallucinating Sam. 2/4
Date: 2012-05-20 09:44 pm (UTC)“He had to. Had to make sure none of those nasty chompers got out. Would’ve worked too; if not for my little bro and you meddling kids. ‘Course, there’s still plenty’a hungry, snarling stuff in there to keep Dean company.” Words spoken like reassurance sticking in Sam’s chest like glass.
“I wonder how many times they’ve ripped him up already.” Voice quieter, considering, like he’s talking to himself. “Oh, he won’t die, not really. You remember what that’s like, don’t ya Sam?” Bile in his throat now, white knuckles on the steering wheel.
He swerves into the parking lot of the first motel he comes across, needs to be in a wider space if he’s gonna have to share it with the phantoms in his head. He gets a double room, Lucifer giving him a pitying look as he pays the clerk. He’s got no duffle, no extra clothes; Cas’d zapped them right into the building.
His hands are shaking when he fumbles with the key, Lucifer pressed to his back, hot breath on his neck. He misses the cut on his palm.
When he finally gets the door open, shoving through it so fast he almost trips, Lucifer laughs at him.
He showers, for no reason other than he can turn the water hot as it’ll go; ‘till his skin is red and it hurts and he doesn’t have to focus on Dean being shut away in some dimensional box where Sam can’t reach him - again.
Drying himself brutally rough with the coarse, thin towel, he drags his clothes back on and moves into the room, and promptly freezes; utterly still, skin tightening and breath hitching in his chest.
Both beds are occupied.
Lucifer is lounging on the one to his right; hands clasped beneath his head, legs crossed at the ankle as he smirks at Sam.
Michael is sitting cross-legged on the other bed, the one nearest the door; older-brother parody that his psyche apparently wants to bash him with.
“Hello, Sam.” Nod, and a face like stone; not Adam’s, but his Dad’s - circa 1978.
Sam ignores them both, sits on the flimsy chair at the beat-up Formica table and stares in any direction other than at the beds. He’ not talking to them, he just needs to think of a plan to break into Purgatory, or to break Dean and Cas out.
“You realise, Sam, that ignoring us is pointless.” Same teacher-voice Michael’d used in the Cage. “We’re here because you can’t deal with being alone, and you have no one else to turn to. We aren’t leaving.” No real emotion in the words; just superiority and cool arrogance.
“Exactly what I’ve been saying.” Lucifer weighing in, gesturing at Michael and fuck, his own hallucinations are ganging up on him. “C’mon, Sammy; talk to us, we’re here to help.” Sam almost snorts at that, but thinks it probably counts as acknowledgement.
“You won’t be able to rescue Dean.” Michael again, and fuck him for saying that with his father’s mouth. “Purgatory was designed to be impossible to find. There will be no convenient eclipses this time, no natives to drain for blood.” Still sitting totally impassive on the sheets, eyes boring into Sam the same way they had when he’d watched Lucifer slicing him open; assessing and ponderous.
On the next bed, the Devil‘s nodding at his brother‘s words. “Yeah Sam, just give it up already. You couldn’t save him from Hell, you can’t save him from Purgatory. Hey, at least time passes slower there; you’ll be dead and turned to dust, with your soul right back in the Pit where it belongs before Dean even gets through his first decade.”
FILLED: Delusional/Hallucinating Sam. 3/4
Date: 2012-05-20 09:46 pm (UTC)“Shut up.” Words spat from his mouth without his permission as his head snaps toward Lucifer’s lounging form, and dammit he’s already slipping back into this.
“Ahh there we go. Finally a little interaction. That’s good, Sam.” Approving smile as he props himself against the headboard.
“Your inability to live without your brother is what’s caused you so much pain in the first place, Sam.” And that‘s rich coming from one of the duelling brothers of the apocalypse. “You should go back to hunting the Leviathan, try and do some good as a soldier before your time is up.”
“I’m getting him out.” Words hissed through gritted teeth and fuck it they aren’t going anywhere, no one else is coming. Maybe he can get Cas to suck the crazy from his head when he breaks them out of Purgatory.
Michael just lets out a disappointed sigh; same as his dad’s when he couldn’t do some complex form of training as a kid; same as Michael’s in the Cage when he’d started screaming too soon. “No Sam, you aren’t. There’s no way to do it, now. Anyone who might have helped you is either dead, working against you, or locked away and out of reach. You need to accept this.”
He vaguely wonders what fucked up part of his brain Michael is supposed to represent, isn‘t sure he wants to know. It’s a long list, anyway.
“Just enjoy the freedom Sammy. Go out, kill some monsters, screw somebody, have some fun.” He doesn’t want to go near Lucifer’s idea of fun.
“He won’t listen.” Michael replies to Lucifer while still staring at Sam. “He’ll never accept a life without Dean in it, and he won’t accept that a life with Dean isn’t what he needs.”
“You don’t talk about him. You don’t know him. You aren’t even real.” He’s aware talking in full sentences to his psychotic imaginings is the beginning of a very steep and slippery slope, but he’s so completely out of options here, and keeping all the words bottled in his head is just making him even more jittery.
“I’m in your mind Sam, I know Dean as well as you do.” Reminder making him clench his fists so tight he feels his nails break the skin, small trickle of blood running out from between his fingers.
“I don’t care. I’ll find a way. I’ll summon Crowley, trap him. I’ll bind Death again if I have to.” It’s a terrible idea, he knows, but it’s better than just sitting here.
“Or…” Lucifer sits up, hands dropping to his lap. “…You could go out, find a vamp, or a werewolf…and just let em chew on ya.” Sam’s chest clenches and his stomach twists. “No, really; think about it Sam; you get turned into a monster - well, more of a monster - and then let some hapless hunter chop your head off. Then it’s off to Purgatory you go. ‘Course, you won’t be you anymore, but that’s never stopped you going after Dean before, has it?” Whole thing said with a smug, gleeful look in his eyes and a smile on his face; exact way he’d looked whenever he’d thought up something new in Hell.
He stands up, can’t bear to just sit there and listen to this mental sideshow he’s got going. He finds a diner, somewhere full of people and background noise he can pay attention to. He’s got his and his dad’s journals on the table and he’s on his third mug of thick coffee, can‘t bring himself to eat. Lucifer and Michael are sitting side-by-side in the booth, directly opposite him. Lucifer has a blood-red milkshake, and Michael is methodically eating a cheeseburger with onion rings - exact same order Dean always gets.
FILLED: Delusional/Hallucinating Sam. 4/4
Date: 2012-05-20 09:48 pm (UTC)He hasn’t spoken to them, but they’ve been offering suggestions and he’s found himself taking notes without meaning to.
“Leviathan blood won’t work.” Lucifer says, like he’s trying to be helpful, as he lets the straw fall from his mouth and leans over to read Sam‘s notes upside-down. Sam grits his teeth and clenches his toes in his boots, tries to focus on the chatter around him and the ding of the service bell.
“He’s right.” Michael as he finishes chewing and places his burger down. “It can’t be done, Sam. You need to focus on the problems at hand; Crowley and the remaining Leviathan.” Same that’s-an-order tone his dad had used on them their whole lives, and something deep-rooted in him; either from decades on Earth or centuries in Hell, twitches to obey; to follow the command.
“Yeah Sam, you’ve got enough to deal with. Leave Dean where he is; he’s got his angel, you’ve got yours.” Grin as he draws whatever’s in the glass up through the straw again, and Sam tries not to vomit.
“The Alpha vamp, he’s out there.” He shouldn‘t talk to them, but he can’t listen to the running commentary silently anymore, seems his tolerance has slipped since Cas vacuumed the wacko from his brain.
“Riiiight, and you think he’s just gonna let you bleed him again. C’mon Sam, it’s suicide, and you know…” He leans over the table, and Sam can’t move back, can’t seem to move at all. “…that’s a mortal sin.” Whispered near his face, cold, cold breath hitting him with the smell of blood, and he jerks his head to the side.
“We wouldn’t be saying this to you if you weren’t already thinking it, Sam.” Michael says as he finishes an onion ring; tearing it precisely into thirds, eating them one at a time; freakish caricature of the holy trinity sitting on red vinyl and laminate tabletop. “We come from you. We are you.”
“No you’re not.” Words grating on his throat as he tries not to shout. “You’re whatever projections are left from the Cage, you aren’t me. Dean wouldn’t give up, neither am I. Now shut the hell up.” Thinks he probably gets louder toward the end, from the way the people at the counter are giving him a worried look.
“Oh Sam, of course Dean would give up. He left you with us, didn’t he? Went off and lived his apple pie life while we kept you company Downstairs.” So much pity and sympathy from this thing in his head, so many memories he doesn’t want.
“Dean wouldn’t want you to die trying to save him, Sam.” Michael points out, finishing the last onion ring.
“Who says I’m gonna die?” Trying to be snide with your own delusions has to be a bad sign, he knows.
“Uh, common sense. Us. You.” Lucifer ticking things off on his fingers as he lists them.
“I can do it. I know I can.” Focusing back on his notes, voice quiet but sure.
He’ll get Dean back, and then he’ll stop talking to them.
He will.
--- END ---
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-20 11:36 pm (UTC)Cas being all "Don't like conflict." just reminded me of him in that episode. And Dean was well on his way to being the uncaring leader-type, I think.
Sam would be there, of course, and no Chuck, but still. Especially if they're stuck eating anything but processed food.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-21 12:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-21 12:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-21 02:50 am (UTC)FILLED
Date: 2012-05-21 03:18 am (UTC)Not like it hadn't happened before. After Mystery Spot, he'd had six months without Dean and turned into a ruthless killer with serious psychological issues. On top of the ones he already had.
While Dean was in Hell, he'd barely been on his own for weeks before he gave in to Ruby's promise to make him stronger, so he could get his brother back. A colossal mistake, surely, but it was all he had at the time.
When Dean was gone, Sam freaked. He did things he knew were wrong. But the time for that hadn't yet come.
This was just the first few minutes. He had nothing to go on but the black goo covering the walls.
Crowley was gone. Dean was gone. Cas was gone. Kevin was gone. Bobby was gone. As the thoughts crept in to the recesses of his brain, his body reacted.
Holding on to the nearest solid surface to keep from falling, Sam felt it coming on and was powerless to stop it. His breaths were becoming more shallow, more quick, not enough to keep his brain and body functioning.
He knew was it was to hyperventilate, had seen it in others and experienced it himself on rare occasions. Training kicking into gear, he willed his body to move along with the cues from his brain. Slow down. Sit. Lower his head. Count. Take deep breaths though this nose, expel them through his mouth. Over and over for what seemed like forever until things seemed to even out a bit, at least physically.
He realized, once his necessary bodily functions slowly caught up, that this was real. He was alone. There was no one to turn to for help, so it was all on him.
Tears formed in his eyes and he was unable to stop them. He had absolutely no idea what to do. Crowley had given him no hope for finding Kevin, and Sam was shocked to realize that was a very low priority. From what Crowley had said, the horrifying truth came crashing down on him in seconds. When they'd dispatched Roman, he'd taken Cas and Dean with him to the place where he belonged: Purgatory.
Two people he knew of had been able to open the door to That Place, and he couldn't ask either of them for advice. One had disappeared after his hint, and the other was already gone.
The only solace he had was that Dean wouldn't be alone.
But what could he do? He couldn't ask Bobby. He couldn't ask anyone. There was no option but finding a way to get his brother and Castiel out. back to him where they belonged.
Hanging his head and giving in to his despair, Sam sat on the cold tile floor, rocking back and forth and sobbing. The desperation he felt to save his brother and his friend was weighed against the having no fucking clue how.
As usual, he found himself lacking, sitting on the light end of the scale. Until he could get a handle on what had happened, what needed to happen, what he could make happen, he had nothing but this: not a single goddamn idea.
Sam didn't know how long he sat there staring at the walls and lost in the sorrow of never seeing his brother again.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-21 03:31 am (UTC)(sorta like Lucifer, but he's talking back and it's keeping him sane
Like, what would Dean say to make me feel better, what's the humor in this situation.
even making a mental note not to - douche up the car- this time
He snaps one day, thinking this is the one time that Dean isn't coming back , maybe Gabrile was right... But should he really let go?
(Gen please)
Re: Return and Trying to Fix Sam
Date: 2012-05-21 03:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-21 04:14 am (UTC)Also, it might take me some time to get this written. I think it has the potential to go epic on me, if I'm not careful.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-21 04:28 am (UTC)And for me, the longer, the better! Take all the time you need. I'd love to see where you'll take it. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-21 05:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-21 05:19 am (UTC)