Guess who's a fan!
If it bleeds, you can kill it.
That's what his brother had said. That's what he'd repeated over and over in his mind when a hunt had gone south and they were in over their heads. It was what he'd whispered to himself when the whole world turned on its head and he thought maybe, maybe, this time it would be too much for them. It was the phrase he lived by even after they'd squared away the case that had prompted Dean to first utter the words.
But fear didn't bleed, and he couldn't kill panic and sorrow with silver bullets or rock salt. Anguish had no bones for Sam to burn, and tears couldn't be banished by an incantation.
He couldn't kill something if it didn't bleed, and whenever Sam realized that he was the one bleeding, from cuts and gashes only he could see, he also realized he was the only thing that could be killed.
And how he'd thought of it, of using one of the those silver bullets on his own brain, but something in him always recoiled at the thought, some instinct he'd never needed till now that sounded painfully like Dean or Bobby or both telling him he was being an idiot. Or an idjit, or a bitch, or any number of other painfully fresh nicknames that still made his heart bleed with the memories.
Memories of the idiotic grin on his big brother's face when he'd first given the younger hunter the advice. Memories involving nothing more than waking in the middle of the night and being able to sleep more soundly again when he heard slow, steady breaths that weren't his own echoing around the room. Memories that made him jolt awake now and scream for a brother that was now out of his reach. Memories that couldn't be killed because they didn't bleed.
And when he finally broke and decided to run from that place, that life, those memories, he knew Dean had been right. If it bled, he could kill it, and the tattered remains of what had once been his heart were all the proof he needed to run like there were hell hounds on his heels and never look back. Never go back there, never be a part of that world again, never remember all the things that had made his heart ache from the loss of the people he loved most.
He had bled, and he would die before he did it again.
Basically my reaction to watching the new season and going "way to go, Sammy!" in a thoroughly sarcastic manner. XD
Seriously, though, I do love the big moose, but I had a hard time getting over the whole "ditched hunting" thing. So, look at this as my excuse for him. X)
Because believe me, he needs it.
