This story is dedicated to both Lilybolt, who got me wondering about why Sam runs, and also to Cactus101 who pointed out how much Sam seemed to have matured in that very last scene of "Sharp Teeth". You guys are fabulous.
Sam's POV
Running Fast to Nowhere
I've always been good at running. Maybe it's the long legs. Maybe it's the job. The fact that if I don't run fast enough, hard enough, it could mean my death. Or worse, my brother's. Maybe it's the fact that running is liberation. It's a warm, slow burn that seeps deep into my muscles and brings the much-needed promise of release.
Maybe it's because sometimes, running is all I have left.
When my choices were limited to staying up all night worrying in a crappy motel room or pouring salt into an open grave, running was the only option I could see. When my father's voice ricocheted around a room we'd never call home and my brother's silent lips began to tremble, I knew that the only way to stay sane was to turn my back. Even if it meant leaving my family in the dust.
And when the walls started crumbling and the blackness I had always felt inside me became a tangible disease, a literal abomination, I ran from that too. Hid the truth deep in my bones and never let it catch me. Closed my eyes against it and was blinded long enough to find a knife burrowed (deep, too deep) into my back. And somehow, mercifully, I got a second chance.
But when I lost my brother for the first time, I ran again. Straight into the arms of the wrong person. I couldn't take the silence, couldn't stand the guilt, so instead I let my mind be consumed by a power that hummed it's promise in my ear, knowing deep down that it could only lead to destruction. I just didn't care.
When I lost my brother a second time, I shut down completely. Ran so fast and so far that I almost forgot who I was, which was kind of the idea in the first place. I found someone who was just as damaged as I was, and we took off together, hands intertwined to keep pace, determined to keep the past from finding us. But eventually, it did anyway.
I've gotten so good at running that sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to stop. Part of me hopes I never will. Because if I do, if I slow down even a little, then all the horrors I've seen and all the things I've done would catch up with me. And I'd be forced to face them. Running is survival instinct, my last defense against a world that's painted my life in red and flipped the lights off permanently, leaving me scrambling for a switch or a flashlight that doesn't exist.
So yeah, I've gotten pretty damn good at running away. But I can't do it anymore. Because every single time I run, it's not just my memories I leave behind to rot. I also leave Dean. And I can't keep doing it, can't keep breaking him with every stride I take in the opposite direction. I refuse to keep making the same mistakes, falling back into the same endless cycle that only brings more pain and more suffering than I can bear the weight of. I need my brother to help me carry it. And I know things are different now and I know it will never be as simple as it was. We've been through too much to go back to the beginning. But this time, I'm taking the reins. Because whatever the hell we were doing before just isn't working anymore. And it scares me, knowing I might never be able to fully trust the brother who sits beside me, the one I would still die for. Have died for. It scares me that we've let ourselves get so far down this narrow, convoluted road.
But I'm done running away.
As always, feedback is welcome!