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They say anger feels white and hot, for Sam Winchester this was no different. For as long as he can remember, he’s been angry. That anger has never gone away, that anger is festering deep within the very confinement of his soul. It terrified him.
Sam never understood why he was Lucifer’s vessel, they were too different, even temperature wise. Lucifer was cold with a controlled bite, but Sam was a wildfire.
Everyone always told Sam that he was reserved and quiet from the very moment he decided to swallow his pain and rage. Everyone always thought that he had something intelligent or wise on his mind. He always gave the best advice right?
The truth was, the emotions he conveyed in contrast to the emotions he felt was the difference between a wave pool and a tsunami.
The clock beside Sam’s bedside table struck 3am, but Sam didn’t notice. Typically he did, he always kept track of the time. With the amount he studied the time his internal clock was flawless, but that didn’t stop him from constantly checking, it never did.
What stopped him now was the fact that Sam wasn’t even consciously aware of his surroundings. Trapped in the confinement of his mind.
He was on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around himself tightly as he wrapped back and forth. His head dropped to his knees and tears were already falling freely.
His breathing was heavy and his limbs felt weak. His mind was far worse than it all.
Sam never told anyone this, but there was a reason he blamed himself for everything. Why the blame always fell on his shoulders. There was a certain comfort in his failure, and it was so warm compared to the alternative.
The alternative was everything he feared. He had to be at fault, he couldn’t be the victim. If he was the victim then that meant out of the two, Dean had been the aggressor and Sam couldn’t stand for that. Dean was his comfort.
Out of all the enemies they have faced and all the pain he suffered, when it was at the hands of Dean it hurt the most. If it was true and Dean was an aggressor, was Sam’s safeplace really safe? That possibility was unfathomable.
Sam squeezed his arms, trying to snap himself out of it. Unbeknownst of him, a couple cups on the kitchen table fell onto the floor.
Sam got up later that morning, having gotten a shimmering 2 hours of sleep. Not his best night’s sleep but certainly far from the worst. 8 hours without nightmares was a rare occurrence for him, but he cherished it when it happened.
He approached the sink in his room and turned it on to brush his teeth. He ripped his hand back when one of the faucet handles burned his hand. He held out the shaky hand which was smoking a little. The faucet was iron, but he was being paranoid right? It was probably just hot for some reason. He had to be sure though.
He walked over to the other side of his room, ever so slowly. The iron cross that hung from the wall gleaming at him almost hauntingly. When he was a foot away from the cross he found himself staring, not sure about touching it.
He tentatively brought his hand up before gripping the cross, his hand smoked on impact with the iron. He held it firmly, fighting the urge to cry out. Hoping upon hoping that the burning would fade. That the cross would purify him. Within three minutes, he couldn’t hold it anymore and he let go with a heavy gasp.
Hours later found Sam sitting cross legged on the map table, nursing the hand he burnt. There were no wounds to show but the feeling of pins and needles going up his arm like an electric current was almost impossible to ignore.
Dean walked in the room and stopped in his tracks at the sight of Sam.
“Hey buddy, Uh? Everything alright?”
Sam snapped his head in Dean’s direction, “Everything is fine!” He said with more bite than he intended.
“Are you possessed?” Dean asked, knowing damn well that a demon would deny it, wanting to slap himself instantly for asking a question so stupid.
“I wish I was.” Sam whispered, tears streaming down his face.
Dean’s heart skipped a beat, he walked over to the map table rather quickly. “Hey, hey! Why the hell would you wish that you were possessed? If anybody would have something against possession it’d be you.” He said, worry lacing itself in with his surprised stare.
Sam shook his head, “I can’t touch iron, the glass on my alarm clock broke, and everytime I go near one of the demon wardings I feel like I need to throw up; and I don’t know why. It was never this bad, even when I was drinking the demon blood.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up, not only was Sam experiencing demonic symptoms if that’s what he could call it, but he experienced something like this before.
Before Dean could say anything Sam had other plans. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-” Sam started his arms twitching and his back arching slightly as he did.
Dean snapped out of the trance he was in and jumped up on the table, grabbing Sam’s shoulders. “SAMMY STOP! You’re hurting yourself!”
“It’ll purify me.” Sam responded weakly.
“To hell with that logic.” Dean barked out, his only concern was getting Sam to stop hurting himself. “We’ll figure this out in a way that doesn’t require torturing you.”
Sam shook his head, tears running down his face, “Will we?”
“We’ll try our damn hardest.”
Sam was in the map room, having not moved from his position on the table. While Dean was in the library, keeping an eye on Sam while trying to collect as many leads as he could.
“This is Castiel, leave a message.” The voicemail rang for the seventh time.
“Dammit, Cas!” Dean yelled, throwing his phone across the room. He needed answers, and quickly too. Otherwise Sam would just continue to hurt himself.
The phone rang and Dean practically ran to the other side of the room to pick it up. “Hey, Cas! Yeah- it’s me.”
“Hello, Dean.”
“Cas, I -uh, need you to come to the bunker.” Dean said, getting right to the point.
“Why? Dean, I'm busy with a wraith.” He could hear Cas’ annoyance seeping through the phone.
Dean didn’t even hesitate, “It’s Sam, something’s wrong with him and we don’t know what.”
He could hear a few things shift from Cas’ end. “I can be there in 7 hours.” and the phone call ended. Cas was pissed with him about something but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was Sam.
“If we can’t figure this out, what happens with me?” Sam asked, and Dean practically jumped out of his skin. Just a few minutes ago Sam was still on the map table and now he was sitting across from him at the library.
Dean brought his eyes back to the book he was reading, “We’ll figure it out.”
Sam was honestly surprised at Dean’s lack of disgust, the words “If I didn’t know you, I would wanna hunt you” on the forefront of his mind.
Sam picked up one of the books too and opened his laptop, getting to work. His state of shock began to wear off.
Dean couldn’t say he blamed him, his worst fear was becoming one of the things they hunted too.
“What if I didn’t want to be cured?” Sam said suddenly.
Dean nearly spat out the swig he was taking of his third beer. “What?”
Sam just stared at Dean, gesturing for him to answer.
Dean shook his head and placed both hands on the table. “Where is this coming from, Sammy?”
“Back at Bobby’s, when you locked me in the panic room. If locking me in the dungeon now would make the issue go away, would you?” Sam asked, genuine curiosity clear as day on his face.
“All of this is coming out of nowhere, Sam, what’s going on? Is this bringing up memories?” Dean was seriously wondering where this was all coming from.
“Hardly, I’ve thought about it every single day since it’s happened.” Sam said bitterly. All Dean could do was stare in shock.
“You didn’t think I moved past that, did you?”
“Well you sure as hell acted like it!” Dean defended.
Sam scoffed, “I’ve thought about the things you’ve done to me almost every day.”
Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Well why don’t you talk about it!?”
Sam didn’t even scream back, he spoke low, calculated, and cold. Not a hint of emotion besides raw anger on the tip of his tongue; “Every. Damn. Time. I’m shut down because I’m dramatic. So I stopped talking about it. Whenever I listen to you talk about your experiences, like I couldn’t possibly understand, I shut up about it. Enough is enough.”
“I think I know where this came from.” Sam said, almost laughing.
“Sam-”
“It came from you, more accurately my reaction to you. The nightmare I had last night made things clear. You aren’t just my protector, you’re my leash; and I’m like your lap dog.”
“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO YOURSELF!?” Dean shouted, standing up. “YOU SOUND LIKE A PSYCHO!”
Sam didn’t stand up, he just stared at the table not even looking at Dean. “I’m done hiding.”
“Enough is enough.” Sam said, standing up and facing Dean.
Dean looked up at his brother, and for once in their dynamic he felt powerless. Sam never stood that tall, always slouched and hiding away as best as he could. The compassion in Sam’s eyes was gone, no longer masking the anger that radiated off of him in waves.
“Sam, this has gone too far!”
“I haven’t even done anything.”
“You’re acting like a madman! You’re full of rage.”
“I’ve been full of rage since day one.” Sam said finally, “Of course I never admitted it. I had a life ahead of me, and you took that from me. I finally found a way to make my power my own, and you tried to take that from me. I was angry that you took away my right to my own body from me, and you took away my right to be angry. And I could go on, and on, and on, and on.”
“You know damn well I had my reasons for all of that.” Dean found himself having to defend his morals again, time after time Dean was tired too.
Sam shot Dean a glare, and the lights in the room flickered, “You’re not listening to me.”
Dean glanced around the room, noticing the lights, “Sammy, this is getting dangerous. We should stop.”
“Why would I stop?” He said looking at the ceiling. “After holding it in for so long, this feels amazing.”
About 30 miles out, Cas was driving to the bunker as fast as he could. With the weather outside and traction on the dirt roads he could only safely push slightly above 60 mph.
He had the radio on to help him focus. With the little information he received anything could’ve happened and he needed to get there as quickly as possible.
When he got closer to the bunker the car radio began to make cracking noises, then a high pitched whirring sound. He would’ve assumed it was just the fact that it was in the middle of nowhere, if he didn’t feel a force growing by the second.
Like a sense of deja vu, Castiel found the angry tide of energy almost calming.
Dean was getting scared, scared in a way that he never felt before. He looked up to see Sam calmly standing by the bookshelf and reading a book. Something was different about him, the way he was standing, the anger. Dean studied Sam, his brother was sliding his finger along the page almost creepily, a method of speed reading he saw Sam do sometimes. The book title was in Latin, so Dean had no idea what Sam was reading. He wanted to ask, but he was afraid, the lights, the way he was talking, it terrified Dean.
Dean’s phone buzzed, and Dean looked over at it, not picking it up.
Sam looked up at Dean, “You gonna get that?”
“This is Dean Winchester, leave your name and nightmare-” Cas hung up before the recorded message could finish. Cas tossed the phone into the other seat, speeding up.
Dean’s phone didn’t ring a second time, so he wasn’t in a rush to pick it up. He was just watching Sammy, not even caring how subtle he was. The lights flickered another time, and Dean narrowed his eyes.
“You’re not my brother.” Dean stated boldly and simply, fighting his fear and regret about the words that just came out of his mouth, but Dean was right. As far as he was concerned that wasn’t his brother, that was the Boy King.
Sam shut the book, gently placing it on the shelf, but his gentle actions did not match his stiff and tall composure, his gentle actions did not match the anger in his eyes. “Deep down, I knew you’d never be able to accept all of me.”
“Sammy, I need you to listen to me.” Dean started calmly, slowly approaching him.
Sam scoffed at Dean’s dramatics, but he still listened.
“Shut it down, you can control it. These abilities, they don’t define you.”
“Do you really think that it’s my abilities that’s making me act like this?” Sam asked, so calmly and with that same old empathy in his eyes, it was like a taunt at what Dean believed to be the real Sam. Dean didn’t answer.
“Well, do you?” He asked again, this time with more force.
“Of course I think it’s your abilities.”
Sam shook his head, walking towards the other side of the library. “No, it’s not. You understand how much I hide from you, right?”
Dean just stood there, knowing Cas would show up any minute, and hoping that he showed up fast enough.
“You really think after everything I’ve been through, especially at the hands of my own brother… You really thought I could be that calm internally. Dean, the anger that I’ve been feeling makes what I’ve been conveying seem so emotionless and dead. It took me a long time to craft that mask. To protect you from me. But in the end, I can’t hold that forever, and I’m not in a rush to hide that anymore, not after everything I’ve been excusing.”
“YOU GAVE ME NO CHOICE!” Dean yelled.
“Yeah, I did, the choice was to accept me, or reject me, and you made that abundantly clear.”
“Sam! Come on! Snap out of it!” Dean begged and demanded, approaching Sam.
Sam held his hand up, “Stay away from me.”
Dean almost stopped, but he only slowed his approach.
“Dean, just because I’m angry at you, doesn’t mean I wanna hurt you. Stay away from me.” Sam repeated, this time more firmly, backing up.
He wanted Dean to know exactly what he did to him, but even in this state, Sam knew that Dean should stay back.
“Sam-” Dean started still coming closer.
Sam was backed into a corner.
Cas was so close to the bunker, only a few miles out, with luck he’d show up there any minute. He decided to try and call Dean again, dialing the number he brought the phone to his ear.
“Sammy, listen to me. You gotta control it.” Dean said, trying to calm him down but only freaking him out more.
“I SAID STAY AWAY!” Sam screamed. Followed by a wave of power. Dean instinctively dropped to the floor covering his head.
The lightbulbs all collectively shattered, sounding like a nuclear explosion. EMF meters went off the charts resulting in high pitched whirring noises to fill the bunker. Soon followed by alarms wailing throughout the bunker, locking it into lockdown.
Nearing the bunker Cas felt a surge of power almost unlike anything he’s felt before. The battery light in the car flashed for 2 seconds before the car came to a grinding halt. So quick that Cas lurched forward, his head smashing against the steering wheel.
The sheer amount of power and how the car stopped drew Castiel’s attention away from the phone, which stopped ringing halfway through.
Dean was the first of the two to move, standing up from his crouching position and slowly moving his arms from. His ears were ringing intensely, and the alarms sounded like he was under water. His vision began to clear first, and he recognized Sam.
He was curled up in the corner, and unmoving. Dean learnt from what just happened. No matter how much he wanted to approach Sam he kept his distance. “Sammy?” He asked, his voice breaking as the name slipped out.
Sam slowly looked up, and Dean understood. Sam was reacting to his anger, and his powers came forth because of it. Instead of calming Sammy down, he fed into the rage. After years of pushing it down, it had to come out eventually. It came out like a tsunami unfortunately for the both of them, and while they didn’t know it, Castiel as well.
Dean didn’t want to see Sam’s heartbroken, Hazel eyes, but after this, that was far better then what he saw. Sam stared at him with glowing. yellow. eyes.
“I’m sorry, Dean.”