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Dec. 9th, 2011 08:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gavemea_45
Ruby's gone off to recover from her ordeal. He'd asked her to call later; maybe she will, maybe she won't. If she doesn't, he will-- eventually.
Castiel and Uriel are gone. Sam can't say he thinks that's much of a loss.
Anna's gone too, though, and that feels like it may be more of one.
Sam stares out the window at the road ahead of them, then casts a sideways look at Dean, trying to get a feel for how he's doing.
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:23 am (UTC)"Pull over."
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:30 am (UTC)Jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the road, Dean looks for a good place to pull his baby to a stop.
Here seems as good as anywhere else, really.
He turns the engine off once the Impala's come to a stop, but leaves the keys in the ignition.
He still ain't looking at Sam.
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:31 am (UTC)"Yeah. I heard him."
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:32 am (UTC)"What, and you're not gonna ask?"
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:34 am (UTC)"But you're not talking about it, and I'm not gonna push any more than I already have."
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:37 am (UTC)The one time Dean almost wants him to ask --
"Yeah. I've heard that before."
He's looking out the window again, about as far from Sam as he can get.
"You know why I don't sleep much anymore?"
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:38 am (UTC)"But no, I don't." A beat. "Why?"
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:38 am (UTC)He'd sound rueful, in earlier days. Things being what they are, bitterness and self-loathing is about his speed.
"What they did. What I did. You know. In Hell."
Maybe it'll help. Anna seemed to think it would.
But right now it just feels like he's tearing out his own entrails. Huh. At least that's something he never tried before.
There's always gotta be a first time.
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:47 am (UTC)Except he kind of has to, doesn't he? Dean wouldn't have been there in the first place if it hadn't been for him.
"Right."
Very quietly.
"In Hell."
Sam makes himself take a careful breath.
"What did they -- what do you mean?"
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:54 am (UTC)He doesn't bother huffing out a laugh. He couldn't if someone paid him.
Anyone, really.
"Down there -- "
How can he put this?
Down there they take you apart, piece by piece. Every day they cut and slice and shred until there's nothing left. Then they do it all over again. Every, single, goddamn day."
He's never seen all the tendons in his arm at once, before.
Or all the veins.
He'd like to never see that again. On anyone.
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:55 am (UTC)Only this is far, far worse than any eagle could ever be.
The breath hisses out of him as though he's taken a short punch to the gut, but it's the only sound he makes, and he keeps his eyes on his brother's face as he listens.
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Date: 2011-12-10 04:57 am (UTC)He's too busy trying to keep breathing.
"You'd think that'd be bad enough, but it -- "
It gets worse.
"Alastair'd be there, too, end of every day, just like clockwork. Could've set my watch by him, if I had one. You wanna know why he showed up?"
He'd wait for some audience participation, but every time Sam talks -- it only makes this harder.
"Because he could make it all stop. All of it. I'd get down off the rack and it'd be like all of it never happened. Only thing I'd have to do is start strapping bodies -- strapping souls -- in and start going to work. Them instead of me. An even trade."
He clenches his teeth, swallowing hard.
His eyes are dry. Yeah, that's it exactly.
Dry.
"Every goddamn day."
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:01 am (UTC)Picasso with a razor, Ruby had called him.
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:06 am (UTC)If only --
No.
Never mind.
"And for thirty of 'em I said no. Every day I said 'shove it up your ass' when he made the offer. Every day he laughed, and patted my head, and then it all started back up again."
He breathes.
His eyes are damp.
"Thirty years, and then I couldn't take it anymore. I tried, but I just -- there was nothin' left."
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:07 am (UTC)Even as he's saying it, he finds it's simple to do the math.
Four months. Forty years. Ten years for each month.
"... oh, my God."
Sam's voice is soft with horror.
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:08 am (UTC)This is the worst part. The worst part of everything. (Almost.)
"I should've stayed there, should've -- but I -- "
He closes his eyes, keeping the dampness in.
"I got off that rack, there at the end, and I started putting souls on. Strapping 'em in, ripping them to shreds, a new way every day. A new tool every week. There was always -- "
He bites his lip hard, falling silent.
"I see that every night, now. In my dreams."
And every day, too. Funny how little difference time makes.
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:13 am (UTC)Not his brother. Not Dean.
And yet, even while he's stunned by the admission, a part of him flashes back to the night when they'd first met Gordon Walker, and the way Dean had coldly brought the saw down on that vampire--
"When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.... every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all."
"Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters."
"That's 'cause you're a pain in my ass."
"Guess I'm gonna have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then."
But he hadn't been there; not when it counted.
Sam forces the words through the sudden tightness in his throat.
"Thirty years... look, Dean, you can't-- you held out longer than anyone could. Anyone."
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:14 am (UTC)It's harsh and cutting and entirely self-directed.
"That last ten years -- "
He licks his lips, eyes closing again.
God, but he doesn't want to say this out loud.
"I still can't take it. I can't -- God. Anna just wanted to feel more human. I -- I don't want to feel anything at all."
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:14 am (UTC)The attempt trails off into awkward silence.
Sam doesn't know what to say; doesn't know if there's even anything to say.
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:17 am (UTC)"That's what happened."
In a nutshell.
"And now you know."
He turns the key in the ignition again, letting the engine warm up.
He's got to get out of here.
Now.
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Date: 2011-12-10 05:18 am (UTC)I wish I didn't, he thinks, still numb. Oh god, I wish I didn't.
Sam doesn't say anything else as Dean steps on the gas and the Impala swerves back onto the asphalt.
The roar of the engine would make it hard to hear either of them talking, anyway.