Disclaimer: haha! I wish...
Okay, I'm starting to find this fic very difficult to write, so any feedback would be FANTASTIC!
I'm sorry, this chappy's kinda short, but I thought this was a good place to end it...
In case people haven't really noticed, dialogue is my strong point in story writing. And this chapter has NO DIALOGUE! So I'm not sure how good the actual writing is or even if it makes sense, so please review and tell me how I'm doing with this... this is SOOO not my strong suit...
BTW!! There's a poll on my profile, asking about me writing a new story. Basically asking what story you want me to write. I would LOVE it if you all went ahead and gave your input. And if YOU'VE ALREADY VOTED, you might want to look at it again because I added a fifth option. just PM me if you want to change any of your votes.
Enjoy chapter twelve!
Sam was curled on the bed again, but this time he looked around the room with a purpose. If he could see anything, that means that something is very wrong.
Of course, that's not the only thing that's completely wrong. Sam thought he was rid of these powers after Azazel was killed. But apparently not. And now Sam was on edge. What would happen if he had a vision? He was pretty helpless before when they hit, but now he'd be completely helpless and completely at the mercy of any evil supernatural bastard that came by. Even if he had a vision, what could he do about it? He wouldn't be able to help save the people. What if…?
A warm hand was placed on his shoulder and Sam stiffened. He knew who it was and quickly shrugged the hand off. Why did Dean want to touch him? He was there, wasn't he? He saw what happened with the demon? Why on earth does Dean want to be anywhere near him? Sam felt dirty just knowing what he was and could do. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Dean, to have your brother be this monster...
The warm hand was back, resting on his chest, and quickly joined by an arm around his shoulders and and a hand on his head. Sam started to shake hard, trying desperately not to cry. Crying would just make Dean want to stay and comfort him because he's Dean. But Sam couldn't allow that to happen. Dean needed to just get away from him, from his weak, pathetic, freakish self. But he just couldn't make himself push his brother's comforting arms away.
Sam brought his hands up to his face as he started to sob. He sobbed at his weakness, at Dean's burden, and at the fucking deal that Dean's doomed to be submitted to. How long does he have left? Six months? Three months? Two weeks? Sam doubted that Dean even knew. And here he was, wasting what little time he had left, taking care of a helpless freak. That same freak who promised him that he would find a way out of the deal. What kind of brother was Sam, to let Dean just stay here? He should be pushing Dean away, screaming at him, hitting him, telling him to leave and live out the rest of his life.
More than once since their 'escape' Sam had considered running away. He knew he wouldn't get far, but with any luck, he might get far away enough for Dean to realize he would be so much better off without him. Bobby can do the research to save Dean. He can probably do it better than Sam anyway. Especially since he can't even see.
Maybe that's exactly what he'll do. Run away. Leave the house, carefully guide himself through the junkyard and run as fast as he can. Dean would forget him and concentrate on freeing himself from that damned deal. Even if the demon was completely serious when she said that Sam would die if Dean tried to welch his way out, if Sam would just leave, Dean could do whatever without having to worry about him.
Sam tried hard to ignore the part of him that was screaming 'no! That's not what Dean wants and it's not what you want!' It didn't matter. That is what was best for Dean. After a lifetime of self-sacrificing on Dean's part, it was about damn time Sam did some self-sacrificing of his own.
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Dean just sat there, arm around Sam's shoulders and hand resting on Sam's head. He had his other hand resting just over Sam's heart and his head resting on his shoulder. Sam struggled half-heartedly to get away but it wasn't long before Sam broke down in his arms
Dean slowly rocked his brother, slowly carding his fingers through his hair and trying to project the most comforting feelings he could muster, but nothing seemed to calm Sam down.
He felt so damn helpless, standing by his brother, who could neither hear nor see and therefore could not communicate, as he continued tortured himself for pointless things. More than anything, he just wanted to jump into Sam's head so they could talk, so Dean could set him straight, because if Dean knew his brother, Sam was blaming himself for most everything that's happened.
He knew Bobby was working on curing Sam of his ailments, but Dean wanted Sam to be cured right now! The more Sam stewed on his own thoughts and self-recriminations, the harder it would be to convince Sam otherwise. He was sure that Sam was torturing himself about the deal, and the torture, and the fact he can see and hear demons. And he was sure Sam was applying all these thoughts to the 'what must Dean think of me' category.
Dean just hoped him being here, comforting Sam, not leaving his side, was enough to convey his message loud and clear.
Please let me know all your thoughts. I'm trying to keep this fic as realistic as possible so please let me know if you think Sam and Dean are out of character, given the circumstances I've given them.
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