A Little Less On Your Shoulders
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural or any recognizable brands-I bet I don't even own the Internet I'm uploading this from XD *Why does it seem like all fanficcers have no money? For me it's because instead of studying for a test I have in social studies tomorrow that I know nothing about and have had about a month *not really* to study for- I write stories. God, I love myself. *jk*
OKAY- I know you guys *my fans* hate me for not uploading lately. It's not like it's without good reason though. There's just too much for me to explain in an A/U because some people don't care - tragic, I know - but if anyone would care to know PM me or leave it in a review 3
Rated: T, SLIGHT gore, like seriously. There's no REAL gore. At all. Don't worry, I won't go Human Centipede 2 on you. Pretty much some hurt/comfort smush- *Goes to barf at the thought of that movie*
Summary: *Set just before 'Shut Up, Dr. Phil'. They reason why Sam doesn't feel guilty anymore. My own little Sabriel hints that you'll see.
And please, tell me if there is any way that I can improve this story- I have no beta and I honestly hate grammar, but I am hoping I'm not too much of a disappointment.
There might be slight OOC-ness, but I think I did a good job :)
And, yeah, there is angelic branding *fuck yeahhh* but none that is described.
As Sam paced the room - waiting for his brother to come back from a grocery run - he tried to block out memories from Hell, memories of Lucifer, and hatred, and pain. And guilt. Don't forget guilt. Or the self-hatred. He couldn't protect Adam- his little half-brother. His little half-brother who, it felt like, was dragged into this because of his family. His. Micheal and him were in a seperate cage altogether, and Sam could do nothing from the start.
While pacing Sam pressed against his injured hand, he pressed hard. Eyebrows furrowed in slight pain and concentration, he thought to himself, "I'm quite the image of mental health, aren't I?' And even gave a breathy, unhumored chuckle.
He finally stopped wearing the floorboards out and sat on the couch, though his posture almost screamed uncomfort. He was leaning forward, forearms on his legs right about his kneecaps, which were in a V-shape. His back and shoulders were taut and his foreheard was scrunched up. He rocked forwards to backwards - something he'd picked up doing since his Wall broke.
He closed his eyes and pressed his palms against them, then took in a shuddering breath, trying to keep back a yelp as he remembered a particularly bad session with Lucifer.
He'd had several variations of torture like this - watching people he loved die. Not having a chance to save them, like with Dean back at Mystery Spot or even when the Hell Hounds had come to collect his soul. He had to watch them be split open by Lucifer- overand over. And while Dean being obliterated by the Hell Hounds had only happened once in the real world, it happened behind Sam's eyelids constantly before Hell took that place. He watched his loved ones souls be spliced down the center, witnessed their willpower break - all as an attempt by Lucifer to break his, break him.
As said before, this one was unbearable. Dean and Jessica were strung upon racks, like two flies in an enormous spiderweb. At first, Azazel and Alastair tortured them - Dean with Alastair and Jessica with Azazel. The two demons had identical movements; identical tortures. Sam recalled every detail: The scalpels being picked up with a familiarity only milenia's could give, then forced into just below each victim's right armpit and dragged, slowly, down to their left knee; digging and ripping as the flesh.
Their screams, in harmony, were almost too much for any one man's sanity- let alone Sam's; Jessica's high-pitched, angelic (odd to hear in a place like that) cry, then Dean's low-pitched, gravelly call. Sam's heart tugs as Dean calls his name. Jessica had long since stopped trying to form words, although some pained whimpers occasionally resembled 'Help' or 'Stop'.
For a moment, his heart stopped as he heard Jessica's voice lower mid-scream. His breath hitched, in memory and real life. He knew who's voice it was. It was a voice that reminded him of sweets and tricks - and a different kind of love than the sort that Dean's voice brought to mind.
Gabriel.
As he heard the door close behind Dean, his vision returned to Earth. Not frigid-hot Hell fire. As Sam settled back into the world of the mostly sane, he tried to make it seem like he hadn't been having a small fit. He immediatly pulled his hands off of his eyes and returned them to his legs. As he tried to relax his posture, he saw something directly in his line of sight. There, on the table, was an unwrapped Twix candy bar.
Sam's mind was telling him to go and get up, to go and grab it. But the other part of him said to look around the room first. So he did.
As Sam's head turned, he saw that Dean wasn't in the room. He rushed to the window to see if the Impala was parked out front. His hands began to shake as he saw that it wasn't. He whipped around and bellowed, "STOP IT, LUCIFER. THIS ISN'T FUNNY." But still, he saw not a single trace of anyone. Then, he heard the sugar-sweet voice right next to his ear, "Now, Sammy- you should know I'm the brother with a sense of humor~." He started to take deep breaths, trying to get air into his lungs because none was going in right now.
Finally, his head stopped spinning and he stumbled to the couch and collapsed onto it. His mind was racing and the only thing his jumbled thoughts could seem to compute was what he finally spoke, "Gabriel."
Then, suddenly, there was another weight on the couch. He head spun so fast that his neck cracked. He let out a slight sigh of relief that it wasn't Lucifer. At least, not yet. "Gabriel... I- I don't... You're dead. He- He killed you."
The little angel plucked a cherry lollipop out of his mouth to say, "Sammy, do I look very dead to you?"
Sam's vision began to fuzz around the edges. Gabriel gave him a smile that came from his eyes, came from his heart, "Sam. I'm real. Listen to me, okay? Hell- it- it rips your soul and breaks your being, your morals, and who you are as a person. It destroys your self-image and makes you feel like you deserve less than dirt. Trust me, I know Sam. But that's why it's Hell. And that's why I'm an angel. An ARCH-angel. Okay? Now as an angel- who isn't a dick, mostly - I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"
Normally, Sam would be pissed. He wasn't a damned dog! But this wasn't normal. Not at all. He nodded and Gabriel continued on, "Sam, you may not have much, but there are people in this world that owe their life to you. There are people who love you and people who loved you. There are accidents done in righteousness and no matter how big they are- accidents only have one definition. They're something done without the intention to do so. Now kiddo, as an angel, I can see your soul. I can see past the tarnish and the dinge of Hell, past the taint of demon blood. I can see you- your intentions - who you are. And Sam Winchester, I don't know of a single person, or being, that wouldn't be unworthy of you. You are pureness - almost the very definition. You love with all your being, you do something all the way- you can't let it go. That might be your downfall someday. But, today, it's your salvation. As an angel, an ARCH-angel, I can brand you. I can take away the possibility of Hell. But you need to let me know. Is this something you want? Is this something you can handle- being bound to me and me alone, for all of eternity? Can you take all of the mistakes on my back if I take all of yours?"
At this point, Sam's eyes were wide and tears were sneaking out of the edges. He blinked and they rolled down his face. He kept his eyes squeezed closed and didn't even think as he said, "Yeah."
He closed his eyes as a bright white light filled the room, and he felt a warm pressure on his left hip and another on his ribcage- the right side. Soon the warm pressure became scalding hot, and even though it was over as soon as it had started- to Sam it seemed to last for eternity. But it was eternity well spent, in his opinion.
When he opened his eyes, Gabriel was gone.
But the Twix bar wasn't.
HELLLLLLLO MAH LOVELIES333
That was it.
Nao go...
GO AND REVIEW!
ANNNNNND If you could all just answer this one question for me, please?
HOW. DID. SAM. MARRY. BECKY. IF. HE'S. DEAD?
REMEMBER?
THE
LEVIATHAN
CLONES?
MOTHER
FUCKIN'
KRIPKE-
I
LOVE
AND
HATE
YOU,
YOU
BASTARD~.
THAT
GOES
FOR
SERA
TOO.
*O*
MAH HEART BREAKS /3