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One deep breath whistled into his lungs. Two. . .three. . .four. Each time he inhaled, he dragged in as much air as he possibly could trying to fill all the empty spaces in his body. He could fill his lungs to their capacity and hold his breath until he was dizzy, but there was always a small part of him that remained unfulfilled. . .and that part was growing. He could feel it burning through him, taking over his lungs, his stomach, every drop of blood within him crying out for sweet union with the demon.
Sam has always prided himself on being rational, but the blood of demon's cries out to the part of him that wants to leap without looking, to stop thinking and just exist. His brain is saying that logically, he can fight this. He doesn't want this evil in him. He doesn't want to be a monster and he refuses to do that to Dean. His body isn't listening to his brain. He is hot, then cold, sweaty and just plain thirsty. Against his will, he pulls at the handcuffs holding him to the sink, whimpering in pain and frustration when he can't escape their hold.
When the demons open the door, his mind is nearly overwhelmed by the sheer physical need to taste. The moment he touches one, he is lost and soon, red lights flashing before his eyes, he is an animal again, lost in the sensation of thick, warm sweetness flowing down his throat. He welcomes it like an old friend, misplaced but never forgotten. He can feel the power flooding his veins as the high brings him closer and closer to ecstasy. It is complete when he tosses the other demon against the wall, turning his body into a conduit for demonic power and his mind is gone, the earth breaking apart around him as white-hot pleasure rockets through him and shatters all his inhibitions.
When he comes back to himself, he is standing before Famine and the irresistible scent is thick on the air. He is barely lucid and all he knows is that Famine offers him more, unquenchable thirst and the demons to help satiate it and power beyond anything he had ever dreamed. He wanted it, every nerve was humming with power, he was drunk on it. With the blood of one demon, he had killed Lucifer's first, with the blood of two he could easily restrain the six in the room and drain them one by one, giving him unfathomable strength.
But there was a deeper hunger in Sam, one greater than the need for power and control of his own destiny and that was the need to be a man his brother would trust and one his father would be proud of. He craved absolution for his sins and a chance for redemption, no longer to be heaven's greatest adversary, but their ally.
These two hungers fought within him. He could still taste the blood in his mouth, could smell it drying on his chin and his whole body tensed, ready to lunge and take just a little bit more, just a drop and then he really would quit, but he could see Dean standing there, holding Ruby's knife but still helpless to change anything. That knife sparked something in him and he remembered who he had become and the pain of Ruby's betrayal and he knew that he had left that person in the church at Lucifer's coming. He did not have to be that Sam. He refused to be that Sam anymore.
"No," he said slowly and evenly. He used his power because he had to and he didn't allow himself to relax until Famine slumped in his chair, broken and empty, black wisps of smoke leaking from his desiccated corpse.
Then, for the first time, he looked up and allowed his eyes to meet Dean's. He expected at least some relief to shine through his eyes, maybe at least a little happiness to be alive, but there is nothing there but pain and sorrow, and he realizes that Dean would rather he had never been saved at all. He would rather be dead than see him fall again.
Another piece of Sam's soft heart turned to stone and breaks away, joining the other splinters that threaten to dig themselves out of his chest. They are getting harder to hold in. There is a piece for his mother, one for his father, one for Jess, one for Madison, one for Meg and more for every other person he couldn't save. But the sharpest and most numerous were the ones for Dean. One for each time he had disappointed him. One for each time his carelessness caused him pain. One for leaving him to go to Stanford. One for choosing Ruby and one for each and every day Dean spent in Hell.
His world narrows to those pieces, gathering them into himself, keeping his pain from being put on display and for the first time, he thinks that maybe he will never be healed. He examines the pieces and realizes he can't even see where each one is supposed to fit anymore. There are just so many, too many for him to hold.
He doesn't speak as Dean brings him back to the Impala or on the long drive to Bobby's. Dean stares at the road ahead, sorrow replaced by deadness. He doesn't look at Sam, doesn't even acknowledge his presence and for the first time in his memory, the car is silent, not even music breaks through the pregnant silence.
Sam flickers between lucidity and madness. The people in the town they left behind were returned to normal, but hunger still tore at him like a wild animal. Half of him wished he had never given in and the other half wished for the blood of those other six demons and more. At one point, he grappled frantically at the door handle, not caring that Dean was going 140, just needing to get away, to drink again, but Castiel is behind him, holding his shoulders, keeping him in his seat. Sam remembers himself again and settles back into silence. Dean does not even turn, but Sam sees the almost imperceptible spasm of grief and the lone tear that snakes down his cheek.
Sam is in control as he walks into the panic room, but as the door creaks shut behind him and he hears the bolt slam home, that control breaks and he is screaming and crying and they are all with him again. His mother returns. He is visited by his father and the ordeal leaves him a shaking mess on the single cot.
Ruby comes to him too, almost incandescent with joy, murmuring words of pride as she molds her body to his as he lies on the cot, praying his body won't respond to the blatant invitation in her words and manner. He curses to himself when he realizes he still wants her. He closes his eyes and hums to himself, words running through his head as he tries to ignore the warmth in the bed beside him.
Welcome to my realm
We are both condemned to live
It's a dark fate
I can hear your calls
I see it still burns
Each night I cry in pain
Alive
Though the end appears my friend
He relaxes when she fades away like the other apparitions. He opens his eyes and he is actually alone. His throat is raw from screaming and he is shaking like a leaf. The song keeps running on through his head and he despairs.
My mind's
In frozen dreams
The rotten flesh
Of bitter lies
Welcome to where time stands still
No one leaves and no one ever will
Can't hold it
It burns
Each night I cry in pain
He wishes Dean would come to him. He would rather his condemnation than the cold shoulder, but Sam fears that this time, the rift between them will be permanent. He is terrified that the demon blood will burn out of his system and he will be set free only to discover that Dean has given up and gone on his way.
Blinding agony shoots through Sam's head and he recognizes the familiar pain of a vision even though he had not had one for so long.
He sees Dean out in the salvage yard, sorrow etched on every feature, face held toward the sky and for the first time Sam can remember, Dean isn't prepared. Dean is not in control. Dean can not handle things and he is crying out to heaven for help.
The small bit of Sam's heart that remained intact, spasmed as it struggled to hold itself together, then shattered to dust.
It seems so clearly
Bent the bow
Cause life in me is gone
And a cruel wind's blowing cold
In blame
And life it shall wane
Each night I cry in pain
And blood tears I cry
Endless grief remained inside
A howl of despair tore through Sam's ragged throat as the shards finally tore through the last barrier and he was lost and then Sam too, demonic blood still pumping, called out to heaven, not to the angels, known or unknown, but to the God he had never met, yet somehow still believed in.
"HEAL ME!" He collapsed to the floor, weeping. He saw Dean collapse to the ground. He wept too. Nothing changed, but the same thought hit them at the same time.
"We are still brothers."
A/N Just have to say, this episode made me cry absolute buckets. Supernatural, how can you make us wait five weeks?!! Reviews might help time move faster!
The song is Blood Tears by Blind Guardian.