Let's go take a howl at the moon

by Ahcamarn

Once upon a time, there was Chuck. He created a family and hurt them. His inheritance goes on through us. Saving desperation, hunting hope, the writer business. A collection of ficlets, scenes, episode tags featuring Sam and Dean and some occasional guest star, inspired by the Febuwhump2024 challenge on Tumblr.

1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any right to Supernatural, or any of the characters appearing in this story. The original concept is due to Eric Kripke and the rights to it are owned by The CW Network. This is written just for fun and I do not make any profit out of it.

A.N.: The collection is inspired by the Febuwhump2024 challenge. I am starting late and I am not sure how far along I will get with this, that's why is marked complete.

This chapter is a tag to S12E01, set toward the very end of the episode.

Warnings: Mention of torture, mention of suicide, presumed character death.

DAY 1: HELPLESS

He got cold, he got electrocuted, he got burned. Lady Bevell told him he was a monster, she was right. The list of his screw-ups was endless. His personal top tree was freeing Lucifer, letting Castiel bring the Leviathan into this world, and freeing the Darkness because he could not bear Dean becoming a demon. Three major apocalyptic events on his hands. He didn't even count how many people died in each of them.

He was ready to give up everything he had to make amends. He did gave up everything he had when he let Dean go. Being miserable and alone would have been his punishment for the stuff he brought on Earth. He wasn't sure it made the count even between him and humanity. Not even the pain the British men of letters were inflicting upon him could tip the scale.

Lady Bevell had left him after injecting something in his veins. He had no idea what would happen and that scared him. The fact that they untied him from the chair made him even more suspicious. He might be done with himself but there were people he still needed to protect, and he could not afford that bitch breaking him one way or the other. Lady Bevell wanted the names of the American hunters. Sam could only think of Jody and the girls, and he would rather go back straight to Lucifer's cage then to give them up.

When the drug kicked in and showed him all his failures he almost laughed. They expected him to break at the massive guilt trip, maybe some years ago they would have even succeeded with that method. Now those were the images that hunted his every night. Not even Dean's voice accusing him made a difference. It was no pleasure trip but he was not going to break him. Failures yes, but he own to them. The fact that he was untied started to look more like an opportunity and less like a signal of impending doom.

If Lady Bevell expected him to break, he would not disappoint her. He went to the mirror, shattered it. His knuckles split on the sharp edges. He held a shard in his hand as it cut the skin of his palm. His best bet was that they wanted the information, they needed him alive.

He put the glass to his throat one swift motion and he was on the ground. He waited.

That's when he failed. It seemed like it would work at first.

She fell for it and he easily overpowered her. He could feel her windpipe crashing under his hand. No matter what she did to him, he didn't want to kill her. He didn't want another sin to atone for. As she went limp, he let her go. She crumbled on a heap on the floor and the door was open. He won. Until he didn't.

He was taking his time to climb the stairs on his injured feet, when the cattle prod that touched his leg caught him off guard. He should have killed the bitch. The action went on in a blurry, more prodding more scrambling up the stairs. But in the end she won. She left the room, locked him in.

He failed to escape and he was there alone. His body ached. Part of him still expected Dean to come dashing through the door. But that was not going to happen. The death of Dean hit him harder than it had done so far. He just felt more helpless and alone now than he had been in Hell when he thought there was no way out. With Dean gone who would give a shit about him now?

Would Castiel hear him if he prayed to him? Would he find him?

Would he get desperate enough to pray to Lucifer? Would he even listen?

Sam leaned his head on the stair handrail, letting all the feelings of the last couple days overwhelm him and wash away the physical pain for something much worse.