↳ sam winchester or
Celebrating Supernatural -
23 Day Countdown Challenge
Day 11 - Episode 13
Theme - Dean Winchester's Journal
I don’t break easy. I may be a broken man, but I’m just human. We’re all just broken in our own ways. But a guy can only take so much before he just breaks down..into nothing. Before he’s barely even alive anymore. I’ve surprised myself. I can admit that I’m stronger than I thought I was. Thirty years on the rack to break. Thirty-five years of actual life to break completely. In comparison, I did pretty damned good. Every hit – Sam dying, jumpstarting the Apocalypse, Sam fucking dying again, Cas dying, Bobby dying, Cas dying, coming back and then fucking leaving me, almost losing Sam again – I thought Kevin dying and losing my brother because of the choices that I made…I thought that was the nail in the coffin. I didn’t think I could possibly fall any farther. But this…this is an entire lifetime of some goddamned delusion of mine that just got shattered. And just like that, I’m back on that rack. Not carving souls, but being carved. And Alastair is whispering in my ear all my failures. And now I know, without a doubt, that he’s right. That it’s truth. It’s demonic freakin’ gospel. And so I break. And so everything just fucking breaks.
If the situation were reversed and I was dying, Sam wouldn’t choose me. He’d choose to save the world. Because he’s seen the consequences of choosing family, of choosing each other, over everything else. And you know what? I should be mad. I should be fuckin’ livid that Sam could look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m not worth it. But I’m not. Because I’m not. I’m not worth it. I never choose to save myself, I wouldn’t really expect him to either. I guess I’m just…heartbroken. I think that’s what they’d call it. I was living on this fucked up delusion that I meant more than that to my little brother. That..I dunno..at some point over the course of our fucked up lives, I did something right, something that he loved me for, and that would be enough. That it would be my saving friggin’ grace. That he would save me when I needed him to. But he won’t. And he shouldn’t. And I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I just… He was right. About everything. I don’t wanna be alone. I can’t. I don’t know how to be alone. Alone and alive is fucking terrifying to me. I can’t be alone. Not since Hell. Not since Purgatory. Before all that, I could drown everything out in sex and fucking decadence, but now it’s too goddamned loud in my head and I can’t live with that all by myself. Having Sam there, having Cas there – it’s always made it easier. But it doesn’t matter. There’s still all that background noise and every voice is still screaming out my fucking solitude. That I’m in Hell. That I am Hell.
Sam was wrong about a few things, though. I don’t think I’m a hero. I’m not some goddamned martyr looking for sainthood. I’m just a guy looking for some fucking forgiveness. I just…I just wanted to do something fucking right, you know? I’ve lived a lifetime of failure, but Sammy…he’s the hero. He can get out of this and live. Like, really live. Fall in love, have a family. Hell, he can keep doing the whole Men of Letters deal on his own. I don’t care. I just want him to be happy, whatever that means for him. I do what I do…I make the choices I make because he deserves it. Sam deserved to be saved. I do what I do because no one else, not even fucking God, will save this kid. And that’s just wrong. I know what my little brother is worth. He can break my heart into however many fuckin’ pieces he wants but that don’t change the fact that we’re family and I love him and I’m always going to do whatever it is that I have to do to keep saving him. Even if he hates me for it. Even if he never loved me at all. I’m still gonna do it. Because I love him. Because it doesn’t freakin’ matter that I’m the big brother in this. I still look up to him. He’s the hero. He’s always been the hero. And I will never regret doing what I had to so that he could go on living.
Sam was wrong about the hurt, too. He thinks that sacrifice is about me saving myself from pain. That it’s about being selfish. And yeah, I am selfish. I dragged him back into the world with an angel riding his ass. And that’s wrong. I know. But it wasn’t about saving myself from pain. Every second of my life since making that choice to save Sam has been pain. Hurt..pain..that’s easy to deal with. I know pain. I am pain. He doesn’t get that it’s not about being afraid to be alone or being afraid to hurt. He doesn’t get that I make these choices because I don’t deserve to be alive. That I should have stayed dead. That I may have clawed my way out of my own goddamned grave but my soul…Hell crawled out of that grave with me. And it’s inside me. And it’s taunting me, and screaming always fucking screaming and every fucking soul I’ve ever cut into is begging for mercy and I don’t know what the fuck mercy is and there is no goddamned salvation for the monster that I was fucking carved into. Sam will never, ever fucking understand that. Because I never told him. Because I can’t tell him. He can’t know how fucking…He can’t know that I’m barely even human anymore, that every single day that I’m alive is another day on the rack in my friggin’ head. He can’t know that. And he doesn’t. Because I deserve this. I need this. This is who I am. I deserve to burn in Hell for the things that I’ve done. And I do burn. The Mark..it’s my hellfire. And it feels damned good to burn for my own sins.
I probably should have told Sam. If I told him what I felt, what I hear…
If I told him about the burning, and the blood, and the sulfur and the ache and the need and the itching fucking hunger for something I don’t even understand and all the screaming All the goddamned screaming Maybe he could help me Maybe he could see that I was never absolving myself in his friggin salvation That it was all my fucking damnation and I’m hangin on my own fuckin crucifix here and I need somebody to cut me down before I just fucking bleed to death or burn alive And Sammy could fix it if I told him He could…
He wouldn’t. And he shouldn’t.
I made this choice because my brother deserved to be saved. I made a mess of fucking everything. But I’m cleaning up house. I have my mission. I will find Gadreel, and I’ll end him. And then I’ll string Metatron up by his fucking sweater vest and teach a fake god the meaning of pain. But first… First I’m gonna find Abaddon. And I’m gonna cut her down to her knees. Down into nothing. Just cut and slice and stab and tear and rip that dirty fucking demon apart. And I just need the Blade. I need my fucking Blade. And I need… I need. I need to tear them all apart. I need it my fucking veins. It’s hunger. The hunger I’ve been missing since Hell. It’s here, inside me. And it’s keeping me alive. It’s pushing everything else out. Because I have a mission. I have a purpose now. And then the screaming, the begging, the human fucking condition – it’ll all be over.
A moment of blessed fuckin’ clarity.
I need to make another supply run.
One bottle of Hunter’s Helper down and I don’t feel a goddamned thing.
Back to Episode 12
→ Sam Wesson;
"I just can’t shake this feeling like I… like I don’t belong here. You know what I mean? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle."
Countdown to Halloween: Edward Scissorhands (1990)
You see, before he came down here, it never snowed. And afterwards, it did. If he weren’t up there now… I don’t think it would be snowing. Sometimes you can still catch me dancing in it.