Yes, I know this has been done literally to Hell and back, but I just can't get this episode out of my head. Both boys suffered so much in these scenes. I felt so sorry for Sam because I know he truly regretted the whole demon blood thing and never wanted to go back there, and it killed Dean to see him go back there. So many feels! So, this one-shot was born. I really hope you like it :) Not being an addict of anything myself, I hope I captured it right.
Sam was feverish.
His hands trembled.
His forehead was hot.
His mouth and throat were dry as a bone.
He had drunk four glasses of water...
Nothing would remove the burning feeling that his throat had become the Sahara Desert. His stomach felt empty, too, although he had eaten two good meals that day.
Sam was terrified.
Vaguely, as he pressed a cold cloth to his neck and forehead, he heard Dean and Castiel's conversation. Famine. So...the Horseman had identified what Sam had been addicted to...and rekindled that addiction.
Famine was now Sam's most hated Horseman.
His thoughts flitted from one thing to the next so fast that it was hard to keep up. One moment he was despising himself and Famine for even being able to bring the craving back. The next the subject of his desire was all he could think about. The warmth of it sliding down his throat. The power it brought...the sheer power...the ability to exorcise, to kill...
Then, just as quickly, he was brought back to reality and he hated himself even more.
"Sam, let's roll."
At Dean's voice, Sam knew he would have to face his brother and tell him the truth. He couldn't go. Going after Famine meant going near his pet demons, and Sam knew without a doubt that he simply would not be able to resist. He cast a glance at Castiel, still woofing down burger after burger. "I'm an angel, I can stop anytime I want." He had said. Yet he wasn't stopping...and if an angel couldn't resist, then Sam had no chance.
Hesitantly – the shame filling him up and making him feel even more empty than he was – he confessed his hunger to Dean. The reaction was similar to what Sam expected. Horror and an instant desire to prevent Sam from giving in.
Yet it was the reasoning behind it that was different. Sam had been expecting disgust, disappointment. Instead, in his brother's eyes, he saw worry, the desire to protect and, above all, empathy. The realisation that Dean knew how much Sam wanted to resist comforted him like nothing else cold have done.
Five minutes later, at his own request, Sam sat slumped in the bathroom, handcuffed to the pipe under the sink. In those five minutes, his thoughts had become a lot less coherent. A lot less rational.
He was an addict with no way to a fix. He knew that if Dean and Castiel didn't hurry, it would drive him insane. He said so, and Dean gave him a pat on his shoulder that was meant to be reassuring but that Sam barely registered.
Against his will, he tugged in vain on his restraints. No luck. He shouldn't want there to be any luck.
He didn't know how long he struggled. How long he sat there fighting his body's instincts, fighting the desire...not that he could do anything about it anyway. The ill, feverish feeling just grew and Sam hoped he would faint so he wouldn't have to go through anymore suffering.
Someone entered the room. He was surprised at how quick they had been.
But it hadn't worked.
He called out as much, wondering why it was taking Dean so long to come and check on him, when the door opened.
That was the last moment of rational thought Sam had.
The sound hit him first. The thump of the demons' heartbeats, almost in sync. Then the scent of what those hearts pumped around their vessals' bodies. He could see the vein in the female's neck vibrating with each pump.
To his joy, she said a few things that he didn't pay attention to and the male came to release him.
He didn't even let him step back. The instant his hand was free, he shoved him as hard as he could sideways, where the demon flew into the bath, and tackled the female to the ground.
Grabbing a glass shard from the floor – he wasn't too sure what it was he had broken but he didn't care – he stabbed it into her neck, breaking the skin.
Then he drank.
Sam's hands trembled with the rush.
His forehead was hot with the power.
His throat burned not from thirst, but from the tang of the blood.
Sam was alive.
I know it was short. If people want to (so I'm relying on your reviews here) I'll do another couple of chapters. One with the scene with Famine from Dean's pov, and one in the panic room maybe from Cas' pov. Let me know if that sounds good :)