Post by sam winchester on Mar 1, 2009 12:30:36 GMT -5
»» all{.HELL breaks loose.}
Standing alone in the motel they'd shared only the week previous, Sam Winchester's emptiness consumed him. He could count on two hands the number of times he'd cocked, loaded and aimed Dean's old pistol right at the side of his head. His finger barely hovered over the trigger, but something stopped him. Something always did. What reason did Sam have to live? His mother was dead, his fault. Jessica, his fault. John, his fault. The list went on and on and ended with the painful memory that was his big brother. So why couldn't he do it? Somehow, though the idea of hell as long as he could be with Dean sounded better than his attempted fight, he couldn't just give up when his brother had already sacrificed so much. Sam could just see his big brother now, his expression twisted into an angry scowl. 'God damnit, Sammy, don't tell me I went through all this shit for nothing!' Through his drunken stupor, Sam laughed, reaching up with the hand loosely holding the whiskey bottle and wiping the damned tears from his cheeks. He'd trade it all in a second just to be with Dean again. Even if Dean was angry, even if he hit him and put him in a headlock and glared daggers at him every day for the rest of eternity, Sam wouldn't mind.
He opened his eyes and saw absolutely nothing. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if his eyes were actually open or not. Tears pooled behind his lids as he blinked repeatedly, held his eyes open wide, and blinked some more. Nothing—darkness was all there was for him to see. Dear Lord—was he blind? Was it possible to gasp aloud when he was already fighting for each panting breath he was taking in now? Adrenaline kept him from feeling anything other than an ever-present lightheadedness, but he could tell that his lungs were not in the best condition. The air he took in was completely stale and dead. His heart rate nor breathing rate did not decrease as his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and he could see his hands in front of him. Said hands could only be extended so far forward until they came in contact with something cold and hard—old wood. The wood and the extremely limited movement he was permitted for the rest of his body.. it did not take him long to discover that he was, in fact, inside a coffin.
“SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM…!”
[/font]Standing alone in the motel they'd shared only the week previous, Sam Winchester's emptiness consumed him. He could count on two hands the number of times he'd cocked, loaded and aimed Dean's old pistol right at the side of his head. His finger barely hovered over the trigger, but something stopped him. Something always did. What reason did Sam have to live? His mother was dead, his fault. Jessica, his fault. John, his fault. The list went on and on and ended with the painful memory that was his big brother. So why couldn't he do it? Somehow, though the idea of hell as long as he could be with Dean sounded better than his attempted fight, he couldn't just give up when his brother had already sacrificed so much. Sam could just see his big brother now, his expression twisted into an angry scowl. 'God damnit, Sammy, don't tell me I went through all this shit for nothing!' Through his drunken stupor, Sam laughed, reaching up with the hand loosely holding the whiskey bottle and wiping the damned tears from his cheeks. He'd trade it all in a second just to be with Dean again. Even if Dean was angry, even if he hit him and put him in a headlock and glared daggers at him every day for the rest of eternity, Sam wouldn't mind.
He opened his eyes and saw absolutely nothing. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if his eyes were actually open or not. Tears pooled behind his lids as he blinked repeatedly, held his eyes open wide, and blinked some more. Nothing—darkness was all there was for him to see. Dear Lord—was he blind? Was it possible to gasp aloud when he was already fighting for each panting breath he was taking in now? Adrenaline kept him from feeling anything other than an ever-present lightheadedness, but he could tell that his lungs were not in the best condition. The air he took in was completely stale and dead. His heart rate nor breathing rate did not decrease as his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and he could see his hands in front of him. Said hands could only be extended so far forward until they came in contact with something cold and hard—old wood. The wood and the extremely limited movement he was permitted for the rest of his body.. it did not take him long to discover that he was, in fact, inside a coffin.
“SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM…!”
... supernatural, advanced.
au from season 4 premeire.
lots of available canons.
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»» all{.HELL breaks loose.}
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