Deprivation

[twilightshours.livejournal.com]

Title: Deprivation
Author: twilightshours
Characters: Sam & Lucifer
Word count: 1,400
Summary: Sam's not sleeping anymore and things are starting to look bright (but not in a good way).
Spoilers: Tag for 7x17 (The Born-Again Identity), not super spoilery though.
Warnings: Language, weird imagery, run-on sentences and lack of punctuation and things that don't quite make sense.
Notes: I felt like writing something that felt fast and happy and oddly enough this drabble is what came out! I meant for it to go along with the song "Sleeping Lessons" by The Shins (words and light mood and fast pace and everything) so you don't have to look hard to find all the lyrics in there.

"Go without."

Sam's going without, for the time being— Everything is bright and loud and he doesn't need it, anyway, the thought giving him a sharp burst of adrenaline, this is rebellion, sweet and sunny in his mouth— He's running through a dark (dark?) alleyway all giddy and sweat and dizziness and (is that music? he hears a beat) he hears a beat and cackling laughter and he whips around in a circle (god like a carousel ride everything is so cheery and off) and dizzy, dizzy, dizzy

Sam's going without sleep for the time being.

(just 'til the need seeps in)

He thought he was running from the goddamned Devil, shining, until he realized, he realized just now— what— what he's doing— wow— He's not even tired— The Devil's right over there, smiling, and Sam's still running he thinks, he thinks he's being pushed—

"God, Sam. You're so," Lucifer barks and barks, praises, cherishing, "low."

—Being shoved along like a little kid too slow, it was slow at first but now the pace is speeding up, he looks into Lucifer's eyes and feels fear— It's misplaced— (Is it? What are you, Sam, five?) Christ, he thought he was tired, he doesn't even know what he is anymore, he thought he was out

(what the fuck, no, he's just in your head—)

"Sam—"

"No!" He shouts and the world snaps a little from it, it literally just tilts a bit in front of his eyes and it's dripping with saturation and everything feels like yelling! It's all loud and he's right there, Lucifer is right there yelling with the hugest grin on his face and Sam starts listening—

"Glow, Sam, glow," he's yelling, Sam you're such a child, just let me take over— (Okay, okay!)

Sam glows— He always has but it's so bright now, everything, not as bright as Lucifer himself, (I miss you in the Cage— He misses being in the Cage) and very naturally takes over like from looking out the right eye to the left— tilt— shift— (Okay!)

"Remember, Sam? You can do anything in the Cage, Sam, wake up, Sam, melt. Flow like I made you to do." He makes Sam stop running and cuts him open— Sam stops running, melts, flows, hot and fluid on the pavement— "But you're still running." Running like egg through the cracks of the sidewalk—

Sam doesn't think he's actually doing that, Sam knows there's something wrong, was it always like this? (Was it, is it always like this in the Cage?) (God, no. Not with this terrible music.)  And Jesus, he can hardly think, hardly comprehend time because now that it's gone he can't understand it at all, he's not so sure he isn't dreaming anymore, Lucifer thinks it's fucking hilarious— Just stop, Sam, let me do the thinking. Let me do the orders and the commands. He could laugh as hard as he wants and Sam would be fucking clueless right now—

He gets close to Sam, like he's not expected to anymore, and demands, "Rip yourself apart, Sammy. You have no idea what's going on right now."

(What are you on, dude? And while Sam says nothing but means to say Hell, Lucifer says everything and what the hell can't the Devil in his head even read his mind what's going on right now)

"Like you used to..." Lucifer trails, "Like I can do for you, just eviscerate you and spill you out all over the ragged floor, wouldn't you like that Sammy? A thousand different versions of yourself." The sun is high— in the sky, it's so bright and sticky, a few sparrows fly above their heads, a thousand different, there are puffy white clouds and people smiling saying what are you on? God, why can't every day in Sam's head be like this? So fucking happy, thousands of different. Of.

"Imagine your brain on drugs," he supplies as Sam picks himself up and together and flows and runs again, glowing between the cracks of pieces of him— He's sure Sam would reply, snarkily, if he had any idea, any at all— It's funny, though— Because it probably wouldn't be any worse—

(He remembers Sammy down there, too, spilling everywhere but having every sense in his mind, if he had that sense now he'd realize he never left the Cage, never left)

Lucifer wants to keep it up, commemorate this moment— Commentary commentary commentary— A slight jab— A real jab, in the thigh, it goes right through and there's a scream really close inside him but he hardly stumbles because what's one small hole in the face of falling down the really big one? (forever?)

"Remember those hooks I used to put you on? Jump from them—"

Some things happen that hardly anyone notices— Like getting hit by a car— (Crack, just like that, and flying, and that's the crescendo of the song or where it starts bursting out at the top of its lungs all fleshy and bits splattering everywhere and bones shattering like glass) and it's funny, it's hilarious because Sam even saw it coming horns blaring lights blaring people screaming and everything but who's to tell what's real and what's temporary? Lucifer sure isn't going to be the one to break it to him—

Now there are hands all around him, on him, pushing and pulling again and shredding? and Lucifer chanting to fight back, "Enlist every ounce of what blood you have left and off with their heads Sammy you can do it! Those shit-eating vultures want your life Sammy, Sammy—" And now there are flashing periodical lights and thrashing of heads back and forth, bumps, whipping (heads back and forth) (off with their heads!)

And the new sounds! On top of lights!

"They got no right. Sam. Sure as you have eyes." He doesn't, Sam doesn't and there are black holes for eyes in everyone he looks at, everyone near to him...! They're smiling, though, that's gotta count for something, Christ, Lucifer is having a ball.

—and things are popping and fizzling and he thinks there's someone with a familiar face but the holes and gaps get in the way and someone is burning and white light with black wings mottling the walls and he'd shy away because vulture, right? right but he can't shy away he's on a bed and there's no space to move—

The buzzards give him things and it starts to speed up and there are maggots, pills and tapeworms, as a reminder because "You're not obliged to swallow anything you despise," friendly— Just a reminder, God, that music. It's in his head—

The orderly (shit) is right there with holes for eyes (pudgy hands and shiny head, Lucifer whispers and Sam giggles over it, or does he) (how offensive, Lucifer goads, causing Sam to crack up even more). It's so.

"We don't depend on anything from them, Sammy," Lucifer assures him as bright bright blinding waves and currents pulse into his eyes (bright) and tear him apart into more than a thousand pieces, shit, Sam doesn't think he's fucked up when he believes this guy really has no eyes, just holes, but Lucifer's here (bright) and everything's peachy, he never left, he let the Devil (never left the) take over so everything's peachy, peaches and cream— with sugar— "Without them we'll be just fine. Just put yourself in my new shoes, Sammy. Those fucking buzzards want your life, let's end it."

"Hey, Sammy," Lucifer? adds—

"You're not real," Sam breathes, his last— defense but not really, although why bother when he's so happy? Bright and sunny, he just wants to laugh, he can if he wants! From the meat hooks to the lightning storm, he feels amazing!

He feels amazing— Lucifer is yelling it in his ear so it must be true— (Why hasn't he tried not sleeping before? This is great.)

He's swirling around in this haze of music, carousel music? and flashing lights? and Sam's never felt better with Lucifer Lucifer! (Lucifer? wait) chunks of flesh and runny blood and hair and nails just falling out so softly ever so softly (Lucifer wait) as people go up in flames and bursting lights bodies (wait) glass and it's this amazing realization when Sam discovers that this is what dying feels like when you never

"Sam!"

"Dean?"

sleep.

Comments

[monicawoe.livejournal.com]

That was awesome! Reads like a truly fucked up poem, and I love it!

[twilightshours.livejournal.com]

Haha, thanks very much!