Title: Lost
Chapter: One of one
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam
Rating: T
Warnings: Angst, shoddy writing, maybe some spoilers for season six, maybe some OOC-ness
Summary: Everything was so disjointed… memories, thoughts, everything slotted in out of place. With every moment, he was slipping a little more. Falling a little more.
Notes: Written mainly because I needed to write something after so long of not doing so. It started off as a Glee fic, turned to an original, and then to Supernatural… way to choose something and stick with it, huh?
彡･:*:･ 彡･:*:･ 彡･:*:･ 彡･:*:･ 彡･:*:･ 彡
No, no—it wasn't supposed to be like this.
His hands were shaking as he eased open the window and he fumbled for a rag. It's dirty… too dirty… I can't—I didn't mean—
Prints. He had to wipe his prints. That was what he was taught, right? And—and his footprints… and the weapon…
Everything shook. He gripped the sides of his head and the window fell shut. Everything was rushing and slowing and rushing and pounding and—
There were hands covering his own – "Shh, shh, I'm here… it's going to be okay." – and the breath on his cheek felt so real and he was slipping and falling and—
Laughter. There was laughter. Elated and mocking. "You did it! You opened the—"
"No one's coming for you here." No. No, someone had to come. They had to… why weren't they?
Everything was so disjointed… memories, thoughts, everything slotted in out of place. With every moment, he was slipping a little more. Falling a little more.
"You're not human. What have you done to S—" No. It was him. It was him. It was always him…
It was always him. And he was always there. And he was never leaving. "No one's coming for you, S—"
Bugs crawled along under his skin, rippling, searing. Bubbling. Everything was shaking and burning and he couldn't stop and—
"Sammy!" Everything exploded.