Work Text:
I laugh but it sounds wrong
It is brittle, fragile and almost broken
I want to be someone else
Can I just be someone else for a while?
I am so tired of fighting the tears trying to cloud my sight
This fog I am living in is destroying me
I try so hard
I push and pull and shove
All to naught
Fucked up doesn't even begin to describe my life
I want to be someone else
Some one whose life isn't falling apart
A person who has known happiness
Sam watched Dean fall. It happened over and over every time he closed his eyes. This time, though, it wasn't rock salt in the gun. He watched Dean, mouth open as he looked down at his chest, reaching up to smear the blood on his hand before he crumpled to the ground. As he gasped out Sam's name the fog lifted and reality set in.
Each night he would wake up in a cold sweat, panting and gasping for air. He would frantically look over at his sleeping brother, damp panic filled eyes running over Dean's body seeking the truth, that it hadn't happened the way he kept dreaming it. He wanted to run his hands over Dean's chest, touch the no longer bruised area, for reassurance.
Sam stood up, pulled on a sweatshirt, his sneakers and looked at his brother to make sure he was sleeping, then quietly left the room. The night was crystal clear, the stars flickered brightly, the way they can only in the county or small towns. Sam could feel the darkness pressing down on him; it's invisible weight making him weary and more tired then he had ever been.
Moving out on to the graveled drive Sam paused as he decided on a way to go, not that it mattered, he just wanted to escape. Taking a deep breath he began to jog, slowly at first, letting his muscles loosen and warm up. Less then a minute into what was becoming a nightly ritual, he could no longer see the motel lights, the air now felt cooler then it should and he knew it was time to pick up the pace. Now running, Sam no longer tried to pace himself. He could hear his feet pounding on the pavement, his blood pounding in his ears, as he kept running faster and faster.
He focused on the light electric poles; desperately trying to do nothing more then count them as he ran. Except it never worked. His mind ran over a hundred scenarios and in each Dean ended up dead.
Because of him.
Sam ran, he ran till his legs trembled and pain shot up them. He ran until little white light danced behind his lids as he blinked. He ran away from what he had already done and what he was afraid he might do. Abruptly he stopped, winded, sweat pouring off him once again. He took a few careful steps off the road and collapsed on the ground.
Running wasn't helping; Sam felt consumed by the guilt and it was slowly devouring him. With each breath he felt more helpless, hollow and feelings he couldn't even begin to name. He couldn't fight his fear; he couldn't make it go away. He was fading fast and soon his exhaustion would catch up with him then Dean would fall because he was careless, or unprepared. He didn't want that, not ever. He was hanging on by the slimmest of threads.
Sam heard gravel crunching and flinched, he was already being careless. No weapons, nothing. Laying back and rolling over he saw Dean getting out of the car. Resigned he sat up, and waited as Dean walked toward him as sat down.
"You know I trust you, right?" Dean's voice was still rough with sleep. "I wouldn't want anyone else watching my back, sure I want to find dad, but I mean it."
Looking at his brother all Sam could do was nod, Dean trusted him. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or the biggest mistake his brother ever made. Because how could Dean trust someone who didn't trust himself.