It's Cas' fault, Dean says. Sam would disagree but he can't speak through chattering teeth. Cas didn't do this, Cas isn't Lucifer. Still, Sam thinks it's best for Dean to rage about it, if his anger isn't directed at Cas, a dead angel that he can't even pummel, then at least he isn't taking it out on something else. Like the car.
Dean does most of the talking these days. For Sam, either his tongue feels too frozen or his words just don't come out making sense. He can see the hurt on Dean's face when Sam tries to speak, so Sam doesn't speak, not any more if he can help it.
Bobby set the fireplace up in Rufus' old cabin, now it's blazing hot, lighting up the room with flickering orange. Sam's sitting just far away enough to to get burned, but he would shove his trembling hands into the fire if he could, but that would upset Dean, he thinks.
Dean hadn't liked it when Sam had tried to cut some of the Hell out of himself, and no matter how hard Sam had tried to explain, Dean didn't understand. Dean had said, "Jesus, Sammy," and shoved Sam off to Bobby like he's some little kid before disappearing for two hours. He was bleary-eyed and unsteady on his feet when he came back. Sam was tucked up on a cot by the still-warm fireplace, shivering under four blankets. Bobby had shouted at Dean under his breath and their conversation had gone like this:
"You can't be leaving without saying where, Dean. Or have you forgotten that there's an army of flesh-eating shape-shifters rampaging out there?"
"I didn't see any Leviathan, Bobby. As you can see, I'm still in one piece."
"Barely."
"I'm fine."
"Sure you are. You know who else isn't fine? That brother of yours, you can't leave him alone, you know that."
"He was with you, Bobby."
"Yes, but he needs you."
"And sometimes I need a break."
Sam had tuned himself at that point. He didn't really want to hear any more, he had shut his eyes and dreamed of icy fingers crawling under his ribs.
Now, Sam sits by the fireplace, like he usually does, and runs the conversation over in his head. He tries, at least, his head isn't what it used to be and things tend to get mixed up and turned around while they pass through. He glances down at his gloved hands, they're still shaking, he doesn't think they'll ever stop. The tips of his fingers are almost constantly blue and numb. Dean won't take him to a doctor, for one thing, he doesn't trust doctors not to be monsters, for another, any normal doctor would take one look at Sam and print him out a one-way ticket to the psych ward.
Besides, there's nothing they could do. There's no cure for Hell.
Sam shudders when Lucifer leans over and licks up the side of is face, he jolts away, wishes he could push him back, but Satan never liked the word 'no'.
"You okay, Sammy?" he hears Dean ask over his shoulder. Sam doesn't turn around, he's sure Dean's face will have melted off or his chest will be slashed open, the walls will be stained red, he keeps his eyes down and says that he's fine.
"Poor baby," his mother coos from his right, she brushes an icy hand over the cheek that's still covered in Lucifer's saliva, "Are you seeing things?"
"Just you, right now," Sam tells her softly, quiet enough that Dean won't hear.
"I'm here, baby, don't worry," she says softly. "I'm here."
"No, you're not," Sam replies. He dares to look up. She's smiling at him with black, cracked lips. Her hair has burned off, one of her eyes is missing, that side of her face has melted. She's nothing but the charred remains of a memory he doesn't have.
"Are you cold, baby?" she asks, ignoring him, "Your hands are shaking. I know how you can get warm."
"You're not real, you're not real," Sam reminds himself. His mother places a seared hand over his and squeezes. She feels so real, she looks real, he can even smell cooking flesh, but maybe that's just a memory from the cage.
"I'm not cold any more," she tells him, "Do you know how I got warm?"
Sam finds himself shaking his head even though he thinks he knows.
"Fire is pure, Sammy," she says, "It'll wash everything away. It won't hurt and you'll be warm. Always."
Sam glances at the fireplace, there's a fire guard locked in place and only Bobby has the key. Sam wonders where he might find it.
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carisma_sensei
FILLED: Cold Flesh 1/?
Date: 2016-05-03 09:15 am (UTC)Dean does most of the talking these days. For Sam, either his tongue feels too frozen or his words just don't come out making sense. He can see the hurt on Dean's face when Sam tries to speak, so Sam doesn't speak, not any more if he can help it.
Bobby set the fireplace up in Rufus' old cabin, now it's blazing hot, lighting up the room with flickering orange. Sam's sitting just far away enough to to get burned, but he would shove his trembling hands into the fire if he could, but that would upset Dean, he thinks.
Dean hadn't liked it when Sam had tried to cut some of the Hell out of himself, and no matter how hard Sam had tried to explain, Dean didn't understand. Dean had said, "Jesus, Sammy," and shoved Sam off to Bobby like he's some little kid before disappearing for two hours. He was bleary-eyed and unsteady on his feet when he came back. Sam was tucked up on a cot by the still-warm fireplace, shivering under four blankets. Bobby had shouted at Dean under his breath and their conversation had gone like this:
"You can't be leaving without saying where, Dean. Or have you forgotten that there's an army of flesh-eating shape-shifters rampaging out there?"
"I didn't see any Leviathan, Bobby. As you can see, I'm still in one piece."
"Barely."
"I'm fine."
"Sure you are. You know who else isn't fine? That brother of yours, you can't leave him alone, you know that."
"He was with you, Bobby."
"Yes, but he needs you."
"And sometimes I need a break."
Sam had tuned himself at that point. He didn't really want to hear any more, he had shut his eyes and dreamed of icy fingers crawling under his ribs.
Now, Sam sits by the fireplace, like he usually does, and runs the conversation over in his head. He tries, at least, his head isn't what it used to be and things tend to get mixed up and turned around while they pass through. He glances down at his gloved hands, they're still shaking, he doesn't think they'll ever stop. The tips of his fingers are almost constantly blue and numb. Dean won't take him to a doctor, for one thing, he doesn't trust doctors not to be monsters, for another, any normal doctor would take one look at Sam and print him out a one-way ticket to the psych ward.
Besides, there's nothing they could do. There's no cure for Hell.
Sam shudders when Lucifer leans over and licks up the side of is face, he jolts away, wishes he could push him back, but Satan never liked the word 'no'.
"You okay, Sammy?" he hears Dean ask over his shoulder. Sam doesn't turn around, he's sure Dean's face will have melted off or his chest will be slashed open, the walls will be stained red, he keeps his eyes down and says that he's fine.
"Poor baby," his mother coos from his right, she brushes an icy hand over the cheek that's still covered in Lucifer's saliva, "Are you seeing things?"
"Just you, right now," Sam tells her softly, quiet enough that Dean won't hear.
"I'm here, baby, don't worry," she says softly. "I'm here."
"No, you're not," Sam replies. He dares to look up. She's smiling at him with black, cracked lips. Her hair has burned off, one of her eyes is missing, that side of her face has melted. She's nothing but the charred remains of a memory he doesn't have.
"Are you cold, baby?" she asks, ignoring him, "Your hands are shaking. I know how you can get warm."
"You're not real, you're not real," Sam reminds himself. His mother places a seared hand over his and squeezes. She feels so real, she looks real, he can even smell cooking flesh, but maybe that's just a memory from the cage.
"I'm not cold any more," she tells him, "Do you know how I got warm?"
Sam finds himself shaking his head even though he thinks he knows.
"Fire is pure, Sammy," she says, "It'll wash everything away. It won't hurt and you'll be warm. Always."
Sam glances at the fireplace, there's a fire guard locked in place and only Bobby has the key. Sam wonders where he might find it.
TBC