Chapter 6

5 Years ago, Season 1

At age 20 Sam Winchester ran away to go to college. It was the kind of thing normal guys from normal families do. He even got a full scholarship to Standford and was studying to become a lawyer. There was an itch inside of him, always, that said, you aren't normal. He was taught how to shoot a gun when he was eight years old, and he killed monsters every day. He was done with it, he swore, he would be normal. He wanted to be normal at least.

At Standford Sam fell in love with Jessica. She was pretty, and so nice. There was a purity to her that Sam loved so much. He loved caressing her forehead and twirling his fingers in her soft blonde hair.

Then the visions started coming. And afterwards, he would get these intense headaches, like his brain was twisting inside of his skull, screaming. It was agony, and when he told Jessica she overlooked it, told him to go to a doctor. Sam was prescribed pain killers, but he hated taking them. He didn't like the way they made him feel.

So, Sam stopped telling Jessica about the visions. It was small things at first, like thinking about someone and then thirty minutes later they texted him. But then he started having them when he was asleep, intense nightmares. He had nightmares of Jessica burning on the ceiling and her house burning down. Jessica, dead forever. He had the dreams many nights before it actually happened. He was devastated when it happened; felt like it was his fault because he never listened to the psychic dreams. He didn't want to let himself believe that it was real because his whole life he was taught that having psychic powers meant you were a monster. So, Sam did nothing, and Jessica died anyways.

After it happened, the headaches got worse. He decided to quit Standford, drop out, and go on the road with his big brother to hunt things. He didn't tell Dean about the psychic visions at first. He suppressed it, hid it, pretended that it wasn't happening. He was back to hunting, to making the world a better place. He gave up on being normal. He decided that it was never meant to be, and that normal was overrated.

Jessica's death, her demonic murder, was the trigger that started Sam's self-hatred. It started to eat at him, and a deep rage started growing inside of him. He channeled the rage, used it to salt ghosts and kill demons. He laughed and joked with his big brother and pretended, like always, to be okay. He was very good at seeming okay on the surface, to always look stable and in control of himself.

Sam had really loved Jessica. He had loved studying, acing midterms, and doing research. After he left school to hunt things, he purchased a really good laptop. Hunting involved lots of research, and Sam was much better at researching than his brother Dean. In fact, often, researching old legends and myths and finding the truth made Sam proud. So proud, that he could forget about his issues. He could push them down into the abyss inside of him.

In the beginning, hunting was about fighting evil. It wasn't really about saving the world, because you never could. There was always another monster to ice. Life was making salt circles, digging up graves and burning bones, traveling the world and living in motels.

The headaches got worse, and the psychic visions and powers got stronger. It was easy to hide it because it wasn't that intense, especially after yellow eyes was killed. And there was that one time that he used his mind to move a dresser away from the closet on a hunt so he could save Dean from a monster. But using that intense amount of power, it had only happened that one time, just adrenaline intensifying what was already there. After this happened, Sam started to be afraid that he would become a monster like the rest of yellow eyed's prodigies. They were just kids killing with their minds, using their minds to control what other people did. But Sam would never become that; Sam would never use psychic powers for evil. Yet still, he was afraid. The influence of his brother, who thought anyone spiritually different might as well be a demon, a thing, influenced Sam's self-hatred and fear of becoming evil. It became deep rooted inside of Sam's personality.

So, when Dean died, it was okay to spiral into madness. It was okay to listen to Ruby, drink demon blood, because doing this would help him get his brother back. Whatever means necessary. The first time he drank Ruby's blood he thought it was disgusting. He wasn't addicted to it; not at first. He wanted to find a way to pull Dean out of hell. A way to get revenge on Lilith for killing Dean. Sam felt guilty, because Dean made the demon deal to raise Sam from the dead anyways.

Current time, in the car to Bobby's house

So now Sam is still addicted to demon blood. He still has a deep-rooted self-hatred; fear that he has become a monster like his brother and father had always warned him about. The headaches are worse, every time he uses his power. He doesn't need the demon blood to use his powers, but they are a million times stronger when he is on the demon blood.

In the beginning the taste was disgusting. Now he loved it, craved it. It was juicy and delicious. He liked it warm in his mouth, red and thick like strawberries. On the car ride the music that is playing leads Sam to be fantasizing about how good the blood tastes. He is not physically in withdrawal again yet, but emotionally he wants it so bad. He thinks about how right it feels, how refreshing. He thinks that when he drinks demon blood, he kills demons. So, it's okay, right? It has to be okay, right?

The reverie in Sam's head is interrupted suddenly by Dean saying something. It was like he had been sleeping and shocked awake.

"I'm right here. What?" Sam asked.

"I was just saying we are going to stop soon for food and gas. Anything you want?" Dean asked.

Sam thought about saying, sure, I'd like some demon blood and for this headache to go away.

It wasn't even the worst of his headaches. It was just a dull throbbing that is almost always there. It never goes away, not really.

"Yeah, um, get whatever you want. Soda, I guess, protein bars," Sam said.

Dean was into fast food, and Sam was into health food and green smoothies. Eating natural foods helped with the headaches and calmed him down. It was something instinctual that Sam had had to learn, a way to instantly calm down. That was why he was so good at seeming normal and stable and not falling apart on the outside. Being able to do this was something that Sam was very proud of.

By that point Cas had teleported out of the Impala, winged his way somewhere else, probably watching over people, taking care of Heaven, doing angel things. For now, it was only Sam and Dean in the car. Dean pulls into a rest stop. He puts gas in Baby and then they go into the little shop together to pick up car ride food. Dean buys some candy bars and sodas and protein bars and a strawberry smoothie for Sam. The strawberry smoothie was a surrogate; Sam pretended the smoothie was the demon blood, hoping for the placebo effect to do something for him. That it would take away his headache and make the cravings subside. It usually didn't work.

They are close to South Dakota now. It's day 3, and the withdrawal has already started a little bit. Sam hasn't had any since the demon he secretly trapped, and he is starting to fidget a lot, to have fits of trembling every now and then. He grips the car window tightly, trying so hard to hang on.

Dean had said he didn't have to go off the stuff cold turkey. Which means eventually he would get a little bit. Dean and Bobby would probably only let him have a few drops every five hours, not that it was really enough.

"You holding on there?" Dean asks.

Sam decides not to lie.

"It's getting worse, Dean," Sam says, trembling.

"You want to go in the back and try to sleep?" Dean asks. "We probably still have eight hours in the car."

Sam doesn't want to give in. He wants to remain strong on the outside.

"Not yet. I'll be okay," Sam says, clearly lying.

"Okay," Dean says. "But if you need to rest there's no shame in that." Dean knew that Sam was trying to be strong; trying to hold everything together. He wanted to tell Sam that he didn't have to do that.

Sam stays in the passenger seat, but he allows himself to close his eyes for a moment, grit through the pain. He lets his thoughts trail off to better things, like when Jessica was alive and how much he loved her. He loved her in a different way than the way he loved Dean. Dean was his big brother, the idol - the hero - that Sam looked up to. He wanted to be strong like Dean, a good hunter like Dean. Pure, good, righteous.

But Dean is self-righteous, Sam reminds himself. So against Sam's "psychic shit".

After a few hours Sam does decide to crawl in the back and get some rest. Like Dean said. No shame in that. He pressed on his head, massaging it to make the pounding headache go away. After a long moment it works a little bit. Sam sighs and closes his eyes. He falls asleep and dreams of blood and monsters. Slashing and killing, angry beasts killing everyone he loves. Not the best dreams, not fun, but better than being awake, shaking, everything hurting.

He sleeps through most of the rest of the drive to Bobby's. Before he knows it they are pulling up into Bobby's driveway. Sam is sure Dean told Bobby about the demon blood relapse. So, Sam braced himself for being thrown in the panic room. He hoped at least that wouldn't be the first thing Bobby and Dean would turn to.

Luckily, when they walked into Bobby's a healthy lunch was prepared for Sam and Dean. Bobby told Sam that he had gotten some anti-seizure pills for him and that if things got bad, they would tie him down in one of the bedrooms, not the panic room unless it was absolutely necessary.

"But pills will do nothing. The seizures are supernatural of origin!" Sam protests. "You know what I really need!"

"Calm down boy. When we can we'll get a little bit of it to wean you off. Anti-seizure medicine might help a little bit," Bobby says.

"It won't help at all," Sam says in protest. "Besides, the seizures haven't started yet. They won't for at least a day, I think. Why can't I just have the blood? That will prevent the seizures. Pills do nothing."

The three men get ready for the storm to come. It would get worse before it got better. In fact, it was like fractal math. It would get worse, then better, then really strange, and then really bad again. The apocalypse would come and go, and then there would be another one.

Sam begrudgingly takes the two pills Bobby hands him with a glass of water. Bobby's rationalization was preventing the seizures before they came, just in case. That or the panic room, you idjit. Of course, Bobby said those words with love, not real anger or hatred. Then Sam collapses on the couch and tries to sleep.

To be continued...