#sam in hell

[hexedwinchester]

Sam in Hell...

imagine.. Sam in Hell, Lucifer ripping his flesh clean off his bones, piece by piece. Sam being awake for everything, feeling the cold blade of a knife cut into his skin, the blood pouring down his strung up body, Lucifer's cold fingers caressing the bloodied muscles before yanking it out. Sam is screaming loud and coarse, until his throat ruptures. His screams echo not just within the walls of the cage but through out Hell. And when Sam screams, it's music to every demon's ears.

Once the Boyking, Azazel's executioner and Lucifer's true vessel, now reduced to a screaming, snivelling mess. There are times when they can hear him call for Dean. The cry anguished and sorrowful but the demon laugh and cackle. The Winchester got what was coming to him. Sometimes they place bets on long he would last. Not that they have anything other than their freedom to bet on. But these days he starts screaming right away. Defiance crushed. They sing praise for Alastair, Hell's most skilled torturer, who died at the hands of Sam, whose torture pales in comparison to his mentor Lucifer. They sing for him, for Lilith, for Ruby, for all fallen demons.

After decades of screaming, there are whispers seeping from the cracks in the walls. The voices of the angels -one fallen, the other righteous- are loud. They talk of Sam's soul that's just as abused as his body is. They say a soul shines brighter than the Sun, but Sam's soul can barely light a candle. It's stretched, ripped, shredded and muddy. Like a dirty, rotten rag cloth. Demons know Hell is Hell even for their kind but at least they are not in Lucifer's cage like Sam. Sam is in a special kind of Hell, one that is personally crafted for him by Lucifer.

[saintsurvivors]

please go check out @onlyangels samjess blog @amooreestvitae which is super new, since they inspired me by talking abt samjess

It’s been over seven years.

Over five millennia if you want to get technical,  but over seven years and still, he can remember her face as clear as day. 

He can remember the curve of her cheek, the arch of her brow, the way her eyes scrunched up when she laughed, even as all the other details from Before-There fade away and he can’t quite remember what his dad looked like in the mornings when Sam was still young and how Dean used to laugh with his mouth wrapped around a beer bottle after a successful hunt and didn’t use it as crutch to get through the day.

She’s seared into his memory, a brazen thing he can’t let go, and he holds her close like the slip-shot scope of beauty she is.

He wears the ring on a silver chain, an albatross around his neck that he wears like an anchor and yet touches like it’s sometime divine delicate. He carries her with him, carries her through Hell and There, carries her wherever he goes and sometimes he thinks that this ring will be the one thing Dean will have to salt and burn when Sam dies and maybe then, maybe he and Jess can burn together like they should’ve.

She’s kept close to his heart, and sometimes it’s enough to stop the nightmares as he clings to that shy slip of silver and sometimes it’s not enough and he dreams of her, wants to press close to her body and be in her arms all over against just so he can shake apart and feel safe for the first time since he came home and found her burning.

He was never able to wash away the feeling of her blood on his skin. On his forehead. On his hands.

He still sees her everywhere, scattered ash and a burnt up feeling, this flicker-flash of ghostly blonde, the phantom flinch-stick of her hand against his cheek like she used to as she kissed him softly, full on the mouth.

He can no longer remember the words his father yelled when he left for college, but he can remember the first time she told him she loved him, like it’s something that’s been itched into the marrow of his bones, etched delicately into his sternum, like someone has carved him up and hollowed him out and replaced him with the daisies and lilies he places at her grave every time they pass Palo Alto.

He goes as often as he can, though it’s not as often as he likes. Too many things to do and he’s stretched out thin like a wire, a thread about to snap and sometimes the only thing that calms him down is to remember her voice irately muttering her opinions of where her math professor can shove these equations as she rests the papers against his back, the tickle-itch of a pen just faintly felt through the paper.

He misses her, like an old limb on the good days and like an inferno is burning away at his heart on the bad days. He misses her like he’s never missed anything before and sometimes he thinks this is what made his dad look so haggard on the days they got a lead on Azazel and it never panned out.

This is not something he wanted in common with his father, and sometimes he feels an old ache like a firefly in the palm of a bear, and he wishes he’d looked his dad full in the face and saw that  phantom itch of depression in the pit of his father’s belly and said he understood.

Sometimes he sits in the dark in the bunker and tries to turn on the light because even though he’s never been afraid of that dark, and maybe that’s part of the problem, but when that light flick-flickers on he is standing next to her closed casket and he can’t even kiss her this one last time even as he tries his hardest not to break down. 

When that candle-flicker warmth exhumes the shadows in the room, he dreams he can see her gaping down at him, this ghastly poltergeist that he doesn’t want to get rid of. He mourns the day he might get that call from someone about a blonde spirit haunting the dorms at Stanford and knows he will never let anybody else do it, will never let anybody else get close to her except him.

Sometimes he thinks it’s like he’s become the ghost, carried out in her sunken skeleton city, a careless tourist within his own body.

He still dreams of that night, where he got a knife to the base of his spine and felt Dean’s hands on his face and heard the terror in his voice and the sudden numbness of his own legs. 

He still dreams of that night where he woke up and saw the dancing curls of her hair and the way her eyebrows were just a little crooked and how she hadn’t bothered to say anything but kissed him full on the mouth and then slapped him upside the head because she was mad he had died but Sam can just remember feeling so blissful that he had held her hand and simply stared at her before something grab-gripped his soul and he was tugged back.

He cried that night after, stared at the back of Dean’s head and resented him for more than making that deal.

He clutches that ring that never had the chance to bare her finger, clutches that albatross around his throat he carries willingly and wonders how proud she’d be of him now if she could see the mess he’d become.

She was right, he guesses. Without her, he did crash and burn.

[prime-catra]

hell and sam winchester

yo ok so ill be the first to admit that im a deangirl, but that doesnt mean that i dont love and respect sam just as much

due to that, whenever i write fanfic (shameless self promo if u want to read the all of four things ive posted check out my ao3) from his perspective i try to make sure that it’s... accurate. and while doing random research for a fic i KNOW i wont be writing tbh, something occured to me:

how did sam get tortured in hell??

like obv i understand that sam had a pretty shitty time of it - s7 was literally a physical manifestation of that. but from hallucifer + sam talking ab it, it seemed like sam was on The Rack, but he... wasnt

from the little we’ve seen of the cage, it seems like it blocks lucifer’s powers, and i highly doubt chuck would give lucifer razors or some shit, i.e.: the only weapons lucifer had were his hands/trueform.

im not trying to minimize sam’s experience in hell, but it got me to thinking, dean and sam must have had WILDLY different experiences; dean was around knives and shit (alastair was picasso w/a razor in ruby’s own words apparently), so it must have been very deliberate, bc all of it was literally MEANT to make him break.

on the flipside, if im sticking with my theory, sam must’ve had more... ‘messy’ torture, in the sense that lucifer probs used his bare hands to rip out his guts instead of the tongs or some shit that alastair might’ve used.

now i know that this is probs incorrect, but that would also have, imo, made for a much more interesting s7??? like give me the sam winchester that flinches the first time he gets thrown against the wall during a salt and burn bc he has flashbacks, give me the sam winchester that doesnt even go on hunts anymore bc every time he has to fight someone he can only think of lucifer’s bare hands destroying him, give me the sam winchester who uses knives to try and forget about hell instead of pushing the wound in his palm bc its just too similar.

It’s so fascinating and the fact that they didnt bring it up again is honestly a shame

[hellorafaelaamanda]

This is so sad, poor Sammy so strong and brave, and I love his choosing to go back to his brother, even though he has to remember everything, he goes back to Dean

He went through hell for nearly 200 years and suffered so much from the worst imaginable ways

Sometimes I think everything that Sam has gone through is underestimated or forgotten

But I will always remember the sacrifice he made, he saved the world

[ultimate-whovian]

I love it when people on Supernatural say "go to hell" cause like 99.9% of the characters have actually been to hell

[sunflowerchester]

okay, so im trolling your sam in hell tag and im loving it, and this post /post/71600018029 gets me so fucking much bc pls lets imagine sam getting topside and getting his soul back that he speaks only Higher Enochian, something that hasn't been spoken since Lucifer was Heavenside, and it rips his internal organs to shreds and hE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO SPEAK ENGLISH ANYMORE because he's spent so much time in the Cage.

This post??

I think I’ve seen an idea similar to yours, anon, on a post before and it HURTS MY FEELINGS. 

CAGE HEADCANONS ARE SO HURTFUL! 

But I know @queen-of-carven-stone is HERE for this!! 

[alternating-divergence-blog]

Au where Sam died instead of Charlie.

Deans sobbing over Sams body in that motel bathroom and heaven is in an uproar. The angels don’t want his soul but they know that if they don’t take him there’s going to be a revolution in the single corner where everyone that loves Sam and Dean are but in the end the big boss Hannah takes the chance and sends him to hell.

Crowley as king is the first to know and for a single second goes “Are they bloody serious? Oh for fucks sake.” and takes Sams soul for, I don’t know, like tea and crumpets in his throne room and knowing that despite how he has a lot of loyalists on his side he also knows that there are also still a lot of secretly ProLucifer or even ProBoyKing loyalists as well and he has no idea how many.

So he’s walking a very thin line here with the demons and Sams soul in his throne room and he just bluntly tells him, “Sam, I have no clue what to do with you here.” and a desperate Dean summoning Crowley with everything he has to try to make a deal and Sam begging Crowley to not make the deal and let him stay dead.

Cas and Charlie, filled with guilt because they were there, they were right there when Sam decided to leave and hole up in the motel, trying to just find a single moments peace as he desperately was trying to find a way to save his brother. Charlie thinking that maybe if she hadn’t paid so much attention to Rowena and how she was needling her she could’ve seen Sam leave and stopped him. Imagine her crying, unable to look away from Sams bloodied and so very still body in that bathtub.

Dean caught in the crossfire of himself, one part of him that was filled with the Mark howling and demanding blood. We saw the carnage he created when Charlie had been the one that died. Imagine just what he would do to the Stynes if it was Sammy. His precious baby brother Sammy. The other part of him trying to think logically, or as logically as a grief stricken Winchester can, and ready to get down on his knees, beg, plead, do anything it takes just to get Sam back.

Crowley losing his shit because he has no idea what to do and how to do it. Trying to cling to his crown, his punishments and his control over the demons becoming more severe and more controlling, he doesn’t want to lose his crown but he knows that if a single hair on Sams head is touched all the demons loyal to Sam, and Dean, would be after his blood and they wouldn’t stop.

Sam just trying desperately to stay afloat in his own self guilt and trying to balance out the good and the bad of being alive. What would be the point of living after all? So that he could disappoint Dean more and more each day? And with each passing second that he is in hell, he can feel chip by chip as his humanity is slowly, and almost lovingly because hell knows her true king, taken from him.

Now let’s go to heaven. The Roadhouse heaven we all know is there. Chock full with Ash, Jo, Ellen, Mary, John, Bobby, Kevin, Jessica, and everyone else that loves our Winchester boys and are waiting to welcome them home.

Mary is smiling sadly, her little boy is dead before his time but he’s going to come home, she wants to hug him for the first time in over thirty years, tell him that she is so sorry and she loves him. John being apprehensive and understanding if Sammys never going to want to talk to him again after everything, he just wants his boy to know that he is proud of him and that he apologizes for everything. Bobby telling them both that their idjits and starts to make a drink just the way that he knows Sam likes it.

Kevin in the corner watching with a smile, book in one hand and a drink of his own in the other, wanting and can’t wait to see Sam again. Tell him that he he’s not mad, he knew that it wasn’t Sam that killed him and while he would’ve liked revenge against Gadreel he also understands that Sam is not that type of a person and there were more important things to worry about. He’s looking forward to being able to finally just talk to Sam about non-prophet things because he knows they have a lot in common, they just never got around to talking about it.

Jessica. Oh beautiful, amazing Jessica. The list of things she wants to tell him are almost endless. That she loves him to this day, that she never once regretted meeting and loving him, even if it meant her death she wouldn’t change a single thing about them meeting. That she knew he was going to ask her to marry him and she would’ve said yes within seconds. She wants to hug him and kiss him and never let go, she wants to finally wipe away that almost eleven year old guilt that he was been carrying for all this time since her death and now they’ll have forever for her to make sure he finally realizes that he is deserving of love and peace.

Ellen just wanting to tell him how proud she is of him, Ash wants to make fun with him again, he knows that Sam is the buddy he needs to be able to completely hack into heavens grid and take control back from the angels.

Imagine all of them eagerly waiting for Sam to open that door and come in, confused maybe, a little bit sad and apprehensive, not entirely sure if he belongs there but it’s alright. They’re all here to make sure he finally believes that he deserves heaven.

Turns out they’re wrong.

The angels have been debating the moment they realized that Death was in the corner at the motel, Death himself had come to escort Sams soul; however it is not his place to judge them. Just to greet them as old friends and take them to where they shall be judged and from there; it is not his concern anymore.

The angels going into an uproar, frantically trying to figure out what to do and how to do it. On one hand Sam is the definition of a pure soul, selfless and giving. He’s saved the world countless times and never asked for anything in return.

But on the other hand he is Lucifers vessel, the boy with the demon blood, by all laws they cannot allow that to blemish the light of heaven.

Knowing that Dean will storm heaven with his tainted Mark and the fallen angel Castiel at his side, perhaps even the King of Hell Crowley as well. Who knows what will happen to heaven if they allow them to enter?

So Hannah makes the decision. She takes the soul of Sam Winchester, with their head held high, ignoring the screams and the threats coming from the roadhouse, threadbare and almost featherless wings quivering in fear and just a small tinge of wondering if they were doing the right thing, she takes the soul to the edges of heaven, holds it out, aims her hands towards hell…

And lets go.`

We haven’t even talked about Cas yet. Cas who was just trying to do the right thing, and he really should learn he tells himself bitterly, every time he tries to do the right thing it always fails. Sam the one he raised from perdition, the one who he tried to save from the cage only to screw up and leave his soul behind. Sam who always had a kind smile for him who never once gave up on him and would always trust him is dead. He, just as Charlie, had been only inches away, focused completely on Charlie and Rowena, wary of Rowenas magic because he didn’t trust the witch. She might’ve been chained up but he knows as good as anyone that there are ways around being chained up. Clutching Charlie to him because he just doesn’t know what else to do and he justcannotlook away from Sams body. He’s seen it before of course but that doesn’t make it any easier now, if anything it makes it worse because this is partly his fault. Cas barely holding onto Charlie who can no longer stand on her own while staring in horror at Sams body.

Dean once more. He can only remember flashes of the next few hours. There might’ve been a fire somewhere and he prays that they didn’t burn Sams body in the hunters burial, his brother won’t have a body to come back to if they did and he would offer up his own, and his soul, but he doesn’t want Sammy to be hurt from the Mark (Too late he reminds himself in the few moments that he retains consciousness, Sammys already been hurt by the Mark over and over again.) He remembers seeing blood and comes back to himself in time to see a massacre, bodies. Bodies everywhere, blood everywhere, he’s covered in it. A small part of his mind barely recognizing an arm, because all the would be bodies are in pieces and thrown around, as if someone had just ripped the limbs off and then reached inside to grab the multiple versions of the organs to rip them free, as the Stynes tattoos. Imagine him staggering to the nearest crossroads again and again, sometimes dragging someone by the hair with him, struggling and kicking and screaming because he knows that a blood sacrifice will strengthen the summoning and he wants to talk to Crowley right fucking now.

Sam being placed in a bedroom, a nicely furnishes bedroom with a soft bed and soft sheets, courtesy of Crowley who’s trying to stay on Sams good side. While logically knowing that the room is locked Sam still manages to drift from room to room to endless rooms throughout the entire plane, he doesn’t remember hell being this organized but he easily finds whatever he wants when he wants it as hell reorganizes itself to Sams desire. Just aimlessly drifting from one place to the other, his mind racing as he tries to figure out what to do and how to do it. He wants to live, doesn’t want to keep dragging Dean down, he wants to see his brother again, doesn’t want to keep disappointing him. He wants to get out, he deserves to stay in the deepest and lowest pits there are just let him stay there so that he can’t hurt anyone ever again please for the love of everything he’s just so damn tired please let him rest.

And what of the demons then? The demons that have a loyalty to hell, who follow Crowley only because he’s the king and its the best option, otherwise they will be imprisoned, they don’t care who the king is, they’ll follow because they like their freedom. They don’t fight, they are just mindless sheep following the next herder.

The demons that are loyal to Sam however? They tip toe around him, not knowing which demon is which, who is the one that will look after your back but then who is the one that will just as eagerly stab you in the back as well? Bringing food and water to the prophesied Boy King, despite being a soul now meaning that he doesn’t need it. They leave small gifts that can’t be traced back to them, books or small knives, trinkets to show that they are in his favor and wish him well. Small messages written, each letter is a different handwriting to make sure it cannot be certain who had written them, proclaiming their loyalty to Sam and vowing to come to his side the moment he wishes.

And no one can ignore, despite how faintly, Lucifers screams rattling in the cage as he realizes his vessels soul is in hell but nowhere near to him.

[xamor]

Sam's estimated time in hell

I’ve seen here and there some estimates about how Sam’s 1.5 years trapped in the cage would translate to hell-time: around 120 to 180 years.

I actually think it’s much MUCH more than this.

Dean’s [4 months=40 years] hell formula doesn’t work with Sam because Dean was in regular ol’ hell. 

Sam was in the DEEPEST circle of hell (I think we can safely say  it is the WORST possible hell inside hell, if that makes any sense), the ACTUAL CAGE WITH LUCIFER + Michael. I’m thinking time goes a whoooooole lot slower in there .

I’ve just saw season 6 x 14 where Sam gets a glimpse of his hell memories when he passes out suddenly.

Sam asks Dean how long he was out. He replies ‘2 or 3 minutes’. Sam scoffs and says it felt like a week. So I started thinking suddenly...

What if that’s the Cage’s timeline? 

2-3 minutes=a week in luci’s cage?

I did some (probably inaccurate) math on the number crunching and I came up with this:

Sam’s soul had been in Lucifer’s cage around 8,000 to 15,000 years.

….HOLY SHIT.