Razor End. By The Grinning Psychopath.

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Disclaimer, i do NOT own Supernatural. partly inspired by the song, Razor End, by Deathstars. sequel, to the story, Take Me Under.

please, now people, REVIEW!

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I felt, the cold silver of the straight razor, slide across my flesh, and I shivered, as wonderful relief, filled me, as the endorphins cutting, produced, filled my body.

The alcohol, dulled most of the pain down, to where it was pretty bearable.

I sighed, giggling a little, as the endorphins mixed with the alcohol, in my blood, and the euphoria was magnified thrice fold.

I glanced at the clock, and swore halfheartedly. 9:AM, it was almost time for me to pick up Sam, at the hotel he was staying at.

I sighed, and got to my feet, and walked over to the bathroom.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my skin was sallow, pasty, and there were heavy bags under my eyes, as evidence of my lack of sleep, and my hair was a clotted gagly mess, the gel that had spiked my hair up, one of my very few vices, had run a bit, and congealed, from when I'd had my drinking contest with that asshole, 4 hours earlier, with ad ended with him on the floor, and me in the bathroom throwing up my fucking guts.

I couldn't go to Sam, looking like this… well looking exactly like this anyway.

I felt my stomach, twist and roil, and I seized up, before slowly, walking over to the toilet, and getting down on my knees, to pay homage to it.

2 minutes later, I wiped my mouth, with the sleeve of my black button up, and spat out a few last remaining strands of my dinner, out and into the mess in the toilet, and flushed it.

This, definitely would not do.

I crawled over to the bathtub, wanting to run a river of hot steaming water over my head, but knowing that would just make me sleepy, I instead ran it as cold as it could possibly get.

I found it was very invigorating.

When I was more or less, fully awake, I shut the water off, and got shakily, up to my feet.

When I got back to the mirror, I poured a generous portion, of the familiar gel bottle, into my hand, and started rubbing it deep into my hair.

In another minute, it was as good as new.

I brushed my teeth, gargled some antiseptic Listerine, and then as an after thought, popped some peppermint gum into my mouth, my brother already knew I was drinking, but it wouldn't do to let him in on just how much I drank, to forget what he did to me. I thought bitterly, I knew logically, that it wasn't really his fault, that he hadn't been the one who did all those… things to me.

The feel of him, moving inside of me, the pain of him, as he rammed into me again and again, his hands so, tight, around my neck, threatening to break me, and me wishing fervently that he would, just so this hell would be over.

My tears, as my littler brother, pounded away at me, and came laughing, into me.

"OH, Jesus! Sammy boy's enjoying this even more than me, you know!" the demon laughed, his voice ecstatic. I shook my head, not believing it, not wanting to believe it, my little brother couldn't possibly be enjoy doing this, to his only brother, to a man who'd done everything in his power, to shelter and protect him, to love and nourish him.

But when the demon, finally did came, and he let out that final cry of passion, it was in Sam's voice, and no one else's.

I closed my eyes, and shook my head violently. It had been the Demon, who had done those awful things to me, tortured me, raped me, it may have been Sam's body, but it was a Demon.

And that was the problem wasn't it, no it hadn't been Sam, but it had been his BODY! I had to look into the face, of that cold monstrosity, who had done all those, terrible, terrible things to me… and I had to NOT! Confront it about, why it had done it, I had to NOT! Grab my pistol and shoot its fucking head, and body, till it was an unrecognizable mass, of bloody meat, and bone.

Cause it hadn't been Sam, who'd raped me, it hadn't been Sam, who ignited those matches, and dropped them on my torso, none of it, had been Sam, it had all been the Demon… but that didn't make it any easier to stare into that face, familiar to me, both as the little brother who had worshiped and adored me when we were children, as the little brother who I had in turn loved and adored as well, and as the man who had so brutally, tormented me in that basement.

I closed my eyes, and shook, and shivered. God how I wanted, nothing more, than to just run away from it all, but hadn't I already done that, to some extent at least?

I thought of Jo, and Bobby, with their pitying, compassionate features, and the disgust safely hidden away beneath that pity and compassion.

Thing was, I hadn't wanted their pity, not their compassion, and certainly not their disgust, I mean sure I couldn't be certain what the disgust was towards, but it didn't take a rocket fucking scientist, to figure it out.

What kind of sick freak, would let his own little brother, use him, and abuse him like that? Certainly no one rational, certainly no one entirely there, after all I was the big brother after all, I could of stopped it couldn't I? but I hadn't, which had to have meant, that I had at least to some extent enjoyed what we had done together right?

I snarled viciously, and popped my suitcase open, and removed the nicotine patches, and popped two of them onto my chest.

I couldn't outright just start smoking, or anything. Sammy would know to at least some extent why I was doing it, and… and I couldn't let that happen, cause… well just cause, Sam didn't remember what happened in that horrid place, and I really didn't want him to, no need for both of us to suffer… right?

I poured a large amount of the remaining bottle of Jack Daniels, over my arm, unwrapped, some gauze bandages, and wrapped them around my arm.

I'd been sure, to run a fire over the silver razor, to sterilize it, before I actually used it on myself, as per usual, but you could never be too cautious.

I removed my black button up, and my black tank top, balled them up, and stuffed them into the dirt clothes, suit case, and removed a fresh set of black tank and black button up.

When I was satisfied, that there was no blood, or any other such thing, to give my nighttime activities away, I took the suit cases out to the Impala, and when I was certain I had everything I needed, I drove off, to pick up Sam, my Sam, from his hotel on the other side of town.

He understood, he had done some things to me, things that were pretty terrible, he didn't know what, and I prayed to god every night, that he never would, but he did know he had done things to me, that had left me… somewhat weary of his presence.

I snorted, understatement of the fucking century, if ever there fucking was one.

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