"Imagine having to describe the color blue to someone who cannot see. That is how it is trying to describe the battle I face daily." (stolen from the internet)
Sam fights the battle a lot of us face every day.
A/N 1: rated for repeated explicit use of the "F" word.
A/N 1A: This is set in the Bunker, so it happens during or after S8. Your choice.
You're nothing, you know that? Nobody likes you.
It was another long night of not sleeping for Sam, trying not to see the clock as he tried not to be uncomfortable on his uncomfortable mattress.
Nobody wants you around.
Trying not to hear the voice in his head.
You're so fucking stupid, why are you even alive?
There was no scar to press against that would banish the attack ~~you're nothing~~ or even blunt it ~~you're so much nothing ~~ and despite being exhausted ~~you're worthless, you know that? So fucking useless~~ sleep wouldn't come.
Sam finally looked at his clock. Midnight. He'd gone to bed just after nine ~~ nobody cares about you ~~ and he was still awake.
You're so stupid. Such a fucking idiot. You can't do anything right.
Wide awake.
Whiskey, maybe, would help him fall asleep, ~~ so fucking stupid ~~ or maybe he should just put his time to better use ~~ you're nothing ~~ and find something to research.
You're so much nothing.
He got out of bed and headed to the library ~~ nobody can fucking stand you ~~ and dropped himself into the chair at his computer. He switched it on ~~ why are you even alive? ~~ but didn't pull anything up.
You ruin everything. Nobody wants you around. Nobody cares about you. Nobody needs you. You never mattered. Nobody was ever glad to see you. They all wished you would just go away. That you would just leave them fucking alone. Just die.
Sam put his head in his hands and tried to block out the voice ~~you're so much nothing ~~ but in all his life, he'd never been able to block it out. Never completely. Never permanently.
You're such a fucking freak nobody would care if you died they'd be happy you weren't there anymore you're so fucking worthless so fucking stupid so fucking useless…
"Sam? Hey – Sammy?" Sam sat back, surprised. Dean stood over him, one hand gripping his shoulder hard. "Sam? You all right?"
You're stupid.
"Uhh – yeah. Fine. I'm fine. I just – I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd – "
So fucking stupid.
"Thought you'd -?" Dean prompted when Sam didn't finish.
So much nothing.
"What?"
"You okay?" Dean asked again. He pulled a chair out and sat next to Sam.
"I -" ~~ fucking freak ~~ " – I just can't get my brain to shut down." ~~ why are you even alive? ~~ "It's on endless loop."
"Is it a song?" Dean pushed his chair back on two legs. He grinned. "Because you know the best way to get a song out of your head is to just belt it right out."
But Sam shook his head, "No, it's not a song," and Dean dropped his chair back down to all four legs.
"What's going on? What's in your head?"
"Nothing. Just – " ~~ so fucking useless ~~ "just – "
"Are you getting hallucinations again?" ~~ you're nothing, you know that? ~~ Dean reached out and grabbed Sam's left hand and turned it over. ~~ So much nothing. Such a fucking freak ~~ "Where's an open wound when you need one?"
Sam pulled his hand back. "No – no. Not hallucinations. No. Just –" ~~ nobody cares about you ~~ "It's just – " ~~ you're so stupid ~~ "I'm tired." ~~ you're so worthless ~~ "I just need to – " ~~ so useless ~~ "—get my mind on something else."
"You gotta tell me, Sam. Are you seeing him? Is he telling you none of this is real? What?"
"No. It's aural not visual," Sam said, and when Dean raised a suggestive eyebrow, he clarified, "A-U-R-A-L, Dean," pointing to his ear. "Aural. And anyway, I'm not actually hearing it. It's just –" ~~ you're so fucking stupid ~~ "- my brain replaying it over and over."
"But you know this is real," Dean said. He gestured around the library. "All this is real. I'm real. You know that. Right?"
"Yeah. No. It's not – it's – " ~~ you're so much nothing, you ruin everything, nobody needs you, why even be alive? ~~ "It's not that."
"Then what is it?"
Nobody needs you. Nobody cares about you. Nobody wants you around.
Dean pushed his chair back. "I'm going to make you some warm milk or something."
"Dean – " ~~you're nothing, you're so much nothing, you'll never get it right, you'll never get anything right ~~ " – you don't have to – "
Shut up. Just fucking shut up and die. No one needs you. Nobody would miss you. Nobody cares.
"What aren't you telling me?" Dean asked. "What's going on in your head that you're not telling me?"
You're so fucking pathetic. Such a fucking loser.
"Nothing."
Nobody cares nobody needs you nobody wants you nobody would notice if you died right now and never came back.
"Sam." Dean's voice was deep, he sounded at the end of his patience. But then his voice softened. "What're you hearing that you can't shut up?"
There isn't anyone who wouldn't be better off without you.
"That no matter what I do, it's useless," ~~ you ruin everything ~~ "It's hopeless," ~~ you can't touch anything without fucking it up ~~ "That's there's no point in trying anything because no matter what—" ~~ such a fucking freak ~~ " – I never make anything better."
You're nothing, you know that? You're so much nothing. You ruin everything.
Dean let out a short breath and glanced at the stash of liquor ready and waiting on the bookshelf. He stood up and tugged Sam to his feet ~~ nobody wants you around ~~ probably to get him a triple-shot of whiskey and send him back to bed.
You fucking can't fucking do fucking anything fucking right. You fucking useless fucking freak.
And then - "C'mon," – Dean pulled him into a hug. "C'mere," and Sam found himself wrapped in warmth and flannel and comfort.
"Dean –"
"Ah – no. My turn. You've been listening to that voice in your head all night, or longer. It's my turn now, so you listen to me, Sammy. That voice is lying to you. You know it is. Tell it to shut up and leave you the hell alone."
Sam sighed and closed his eyes. He realized he had the back of Dean's shirt gripped in his hands but he didn't let go. "It's not that easy, Dean. It's never that easy."
"I know." Dean tightened his hold. "I know it's not that easy. But, Sammy, you gotta fight back. Don't just sit there and listen to the lies. Fight back."
"How?" Sam asked, not liking how his voice came close to breaking. "It's too much. It gets to be too much and I can't make it stop. How do I fight that?"
"What's the first thing I ever taught you to do if somebody bothered you?" Dean asked. There was a chuckle in his voice and when Sam thought about it, he huffed a laughed too.
"To find you and tell you what was going on and you'd take care of it."
"Damn right." Dean said. ~~ I'll always look out for you ~~ "Don't forget it." ~~ I'll always take care of you ~~ "And don't believe that voice if it tells you anything else. All right?"
"Yeah, Dean. All right."
I love you so much, I'll never let you go.
The End.
A/N 2: if only we each had our own Big Brother Dean.
A/N 3: I've just found out that my oldest sister has leukemia and spent 2 weeks in the hospital after having a bad reaction to chemo. As I've asked so many times of you in the past – thoughts and prayers would be very, very appreciated.
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