AN: I've had this story done for a while, but never got around to posting it. This is just something I thought of after re-watching Mystery Spot (one of my favorite episodes) for about the fiftieth time. I hope you like it!
Thursday was the worst.
Sure, Tuesday was hell, worse than hell, being forced to watch Dean die hundreds of times, never being able to save him. It was torture. Every freaking Tuesday, Sam had his worst nightmare play out in front of him. It was like his heart was being ripped to shreds. He felt as if he was being beaten senseless until he wasn't even himself anymore. Sam would never be completely comfortable on Tuesday again.
Wednesday was worse. He hadn't thought such a thing was possible, but apparently it was. Sam finally thought he had his brother back—no more watching him die, no more waiting for the catastrophe of the day. It was Wednesday. It was finally Wednesday.
He should have known it was too good to be true. That he wouldn't get off that easily. Because yes, it was Wednesday, but the next thing Sam knew, he was reliving Tuesday. He was crouched in the parking lot, clutching his dying brother desperately in his arms. Only this time, he wasn't waking up.
So Tuesday was hell and Wednesday was murder. But Thursday was the worst.
Thursday was when he woke up—naturally this time—to find Dean gone. Gone, and not coming back. Thursday was the first day he woke up completely alone in the world. The first day he had to survive without Dean. The first day of his spiral into self-destruction.
It's a Thursday when it finally happens. When Sam finally finds the Trickster. He's ashamed when he's willing to kill a person with no second thoughts. He's ashamed, but he doesn't regret it.
That's when he realizes just how broken he really is. And when the Trickster shows up, all he can do is beg. He's tired, he's numb, he wants Dean back, and he freaking hates Thursday. And all he can do is beg.
So when Wednesday—the Wednesday—rolls back around, Sam is ecstatic. But six months on your own isn't easy to shake. He tries though. He tries to stop flinching every time Dean enters the room. He tries not to let Dean see the heartless monster he's become. He tries to pretend it was all a dream. Tries to just be glad it's Wednesday.
But Thursday, Thursday still hurts. He wakes up expecting to be alone, expecting Dean to still be dead. But there he is, snoring his head off in the next bed. And for a moment, Sam is so relieved he can barely stand it. He thinks that maybe Thursdays are okay after all.
But that's when Sam realizes that it doesn't matter if it's a Thursday, or a Wednesday, or even a Tuesday. He realizes that he can't take being alone, being without Dean. He loses his humanity, ceases to even remember Sammy, without Dean. And Dean won't be around much longer. It hits him like a ton of bricks. They haven't been able to come up with anything so far that will save Dean.
Thursday. That's when Sam realizes. He realizes that it doesn't matter that Dean is dying to save him. Because with Dean dead, Sam might as well be dead too. The day Dean dies will be the day Sammy dies.
Thursday.
Thursday is the worst.