Better left unsaid
Sam stared at the wall, lost in thought. Restful sleep would never come again, and perfunctory sleep only came when he was so exhausted that no other option existed. Things would never be the same with Dean again. Not that Sam could blame him; Sam couldn't look in the mirror without feeling like the worst person in the world. He'd been had, and he would pay for it forever. No amount of good deeds would really help earn the trust back, especially now that he knew what made him so special to Azazel and the rest of Lucifer's flunkies. No, redemption didn't seem a likely possibility. But it wouldn't be for lack of trying.
His thoughts turned to how he'd let himself be duped. He didn't venture this line of thought often because it was too painful. The only thing that made it worth the pain was the small comfort that when everything began, he was trying as hard as he could to avoid anything and everything that reminded him of what he'd lost. That included anything and everything about himself.
Thinking back to the day where it all began, Sam took a sip out of his water bottle. He'd had enough of trying to drown sorrows that would never drown. Jagged images from that day flashed in his mind, the smell of blood tickling his nose and the sound of the hell hounds whispering in his ear like war flashbacks. The worst part, knowing that the hounds never would have been after Dean, had it not been for Sam. Sam would gladly have taken death over living with the knowledge that Dean's trip to hell was courtesy of him.
When his desperate attempts to get Dean back failed time after time, the slow realization that he'd never see his brother again started to sink in. When one's family is so small, every member matters even more. Especially when that person was the only person left in the world that always had his back. And when Sam realized that Dean was really gone, it felt as if the world had ended.
Except it didn't. The world should have stopped and recognized that it had lost a true hero. Instead, the sun shone bright that day. A child had a birthday party at the restaurant Sam chose to have lunch at. He passed a couple fighting over the most mundane of offenses. The world refused to stop, even for a moment. No one but him knew how much it had lost. Despite all their brotherly fights and Dean's flaws, Sam had lost the only thing in his life that he actually cared about.
It was as though every color had been taken out the world for Sam. The sky was as bright as ever, but its blue didn't even register. He could eat the most exotic food in the world, but he didn't taste it anymore. He didn't even know why he put his ipod in the Impala, music meant nothing to him anymore. If he dreamed, he didn't remember it. He could only remember nightmares of Dean's screaming in hell. He hunted without fear because there was only numb. He would have prayed for death if he thought it could heal the hurt in his soul. He tried over and over to take Dean's place in hell, because knowing it was because of him was worse than any pain he could imagine.
Though he continued fighting, everyday was a struggle to carry on. He went through the motions, never feeling anything about a hunt. Every hunt was an exercise in futility. He could never make enough of a difference in the world to save people. Especially when demons would kill their hosts so easily. Sam was afraid to stop hunting, though. If he ever stopped, it would be all too real. He would be alone in a world that didn't make sense to him anymore. If he stopped hunting, he would start to forget…
It was then that Ruby introduced the idea of blood and power. It had started off as a simple wish he'd said aloud. He wished there were a better way to get rid of demons without killing the person inside or reciting long passages of Latin. But when he'd had the first taste, it made him feel alive again. Though it made him feel more powerful and in control, the real appeal it had wasn't in the power.
The secret was one thing that no demon had picked up on yet. The one Sam had never, ever said out loud. The one he could never let Dean find out about. The secret was this: with demon blood coursing through his veins, Sam could feel the hurt of his guilt over Dean's death cutting his veins with every beat of his heart. He could feel it slowly killing him from the inside. The only thing Sam felt he deserved: a slow, painful death from the inside, out as punishment for letting Dean take his place.
As Sam stared at the wall, he tried to remember the feeling. Even though Dean was out of hell; even though he still seemed to be unapologetic about his deal with the crossroads demon, Sam still felt like he deserved that death. And it didn't matter that Dean would never trust him quite the same again, Dean could never know the real reason Sam was addicted to demon blood. It was better that he thought it was because of the power.
It was better that he didn't know how much Sam hated himself long before he allowed a drop of Ruby's blood to pass his lips. Sam would never resort to demon's blood to find that feeling again, but only because of how much it hurt Dean. Every time Sam closed his eyes, he wished for that feeling again, now more than ever. He wished for that slow painful death that no one could ever understand, and Dean would never allow.
No, Dean would never know why Sam became addicted. Some things are much better left unsaid.
A/n: I wrote Blood and Trust to go along with this, feel free to check that out if you liked this.