I have been thinking of this ever since the first time Sam was in the panic room. So I just had to write it. This is my own sick mind so I hope I don't freak you out.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters.
So I hope you enjoy it, go in open minded!
Sam sat on the bed with his head in his hands. Thoughts of the night ran through his mind; Dean and Castiel seeing him drink blood, driving to Bobby's, and finally being locked in the panic room by his own brother. He was angry and upset but most of all he was scared. He needs blood; he could feel the want in his body. He could feel the need. He stood up and stumbled to the door. "Dean?" He asked tentatively. "Dean please." No reply, "DEAN!" he yelled. He turned his back on the door and slid to the floor, "Please don't leave me in here." He sobbed. His vision suddenly blurred, pain spreading through his veins, intense, whit hot pain, a strangled cry escaping his lips.
The pain subsided, Sam's breath coming rough and raged. His throat was raw. Looking around, he saw a jug of water on the table by the mirror and dragged himself on his hands and knees towards it. When he reached the table he pulled himself to his feet and looked in the mirror seeing himself for the first time in days. His hair was greasy and lank. His skin was pale and bruised. And his eyes, his eyes were dark, almost black. He looked away quickly reaching for the jug. He stopped, staring at his wrist, almost seeing the dark blood pumping through his veins. He fell to the ground remembering that day at cold oaks. The day he disappeared. The day he fought Jake. The day he died. That was the day the yellow-eye demon showed him that night so many years ago. Showed him that he had demon blood running through his veins. The realisation hit him like a slap in the face. "No." he said quietly. "No, no, no." he repeated. He walked away, pushing his palms into his eyes. He dropped onto the bed with his eyes closed trying to think of other things. Desperation hit him in waves, forcing him to open his eyes, "NO!" he shouted. He pushed himself up, stumbling to the mirror; staring into his own eyes seeing pain and lust. He looked down at his clenched fists, seeing the raised veins in his forearm. He clamped his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut. The hunger grew inside him, flowing through his veins, his muscles, his bones. His eyes shot open, a yell tearing through his throat, his fist slamming into the mirror in front of him, sending shards of glass flying in the air around him. Blood trickled from cuts on his fist. He raised it to his lips, and tested a small drop on his tongue. It was weak, but it was there. He licked the rest of the blood off his hand and sat on the floor, closing his eyes feeling the tiny rush. It quickly wore off, leaving Sam feeling unsatisfied. His eyes fell upon a large shard of glass not far from him. He reached for it slowly; trying to fight the urge in his mind, knowing what he was about to do was wrong and dangerous. He held it loosely in his hand. Then impulse overtook and moved the glass to his arm, dragging it across his skin. Sam gasped at the pain but focused immediately on the flow of blood. He dipped his head, licking at it, tasting all the blood he could. Eventually the flow stopped and Sam had to make another cut. He consumed as much blood as he could, but it was nothing compared to pure demon blood. More, he needed more. He made the decision in a split second, the need choosing for him. He sliced right across his wrist, the blood spraying all over him; he immediately began sucking at the wound, tasting the iron in his own blood. He wanted the rush and couldn't get it through his diluted blood. He screamed in frustration, knowing he could never get a good fix this way. He closed his eyes and dropped his head to his chest. Feeling suddenly tired, he dragged himself slowly across the floor, his lack of energy slowing him down. He barely reached the bed, and was only able to sit against the side. He closed his eyes and drifted into unconsciousness.
Dean took another swig from the whiskey bottle and leaned against the wall. Bobby rushed into the room, "You hear that?"
"I don't hear anything." Dean replied.
"Exactly! That's too much nothing!" They both ran down the stairs to the panic room.
Dean reached the door first, yanking the small window open, "Sam?" He looked in, seeing a large pool of blood on the floor. "SAM!" he unlocked the door, yanked it open and ran inside. He dropped to his knees beside Sam, taking his face in his hands. "Sam? Sam! Sam wake up, look at me. Please don't do this. No, you have to stay with me! SAM!"
I thought this would be a good place for a break. Soooo what do you think? Hope it wasn't too freaky for you. Reviews are loved. I'll post the next chapter as soon as I've finished it! Thanks guys!
