Sobs tore from his chest, great big hiccups of breath stuttering the broad expanse of his back and he let it all rip from him. He could taste the salt on his tongue with every open mouthed gasp, curled tight into his brother's body, and with every second to pass Sam felt his body fold itself up even more. Like origami being done by a five year old, every crease and fold crumpled him more - incorrectly done and a mockery of whatever the child was attempting. Sam wanted nothing more than to end it now.
His fingers curled tight around Dean's shoulder, his other hand grabbing onto the collar of Dean's shirt and yanking it down, near ripping the fabric in his panic. He could hear it, the Other Sam, mocking him, laughing, cruel and lacking any tact as insults prodded at his conscious mind. He let his hair cloud his periphery, let his forward vision be nothing but his own exhaust and Dean's shaking chest.
His brother was worried for him - which wasn't unusual. Dean was always thinking of him - about him, and here he was, offering his job he loved to be thrown on the back burner if he could be here for Sam. Ready to put his life on hold again for Sam.
Sam remembered being a child. When Mom broke and disappeared one day, when Dad began drinking a house than a car, when Dad stopped yelling and started hitting.
When Dean would go to sleep black and blue so Sam wouldn't have to.
Anything for Sam.
Sam's mouth formed a snarl, hidden by his head being down turned, and everything in him turned black and ugly.
He was a dreg to his brother - always holding him back, hurting him. Destroying his life one way or another, just so Sam wouldn't get hurt.
It was alright as long as Sam came out fine by the end.
Anger, hot and charcoal burnt, hit him like a freight truck, and he screamed into his brother's chest, throat scraped raw with it and he wanted to break bones. His fingers ached for it, his mouth salivated at the thoughts - or maybe that was with the vomit flavouring his tongue. Horror clogged his mind, mingled with the rage, and he was torn asunder with the dichotomy of his emotions.
"Why?" He whispered. hoarse, rough, a broken thing. "Why?" He said again, harder. He reared back, hands shoving his brother down onto the couch and he used his hold on Dean's shoulders to keep him suspended above his brother, and to keep him down. "Why!?" He shouted down at Dean, his tears spilling down and falling onto his brother's face. "Why am I like this? Why - why are you - fucking -" his tone was harsh, teeth bared and he collapsed down onto Dean.
"Why don't you just give up on me?" He said, barely above a breath. His anger was exhausted now, a star burning blue, cresting back from it's impeding supernova.
Sam didn't know why Dean kept doing anything for him, he honestly didn't. It was beyond him, such things, and it left even Other Sam little more than a fly in his ear, nothing heard over his own turmoil.
"Is it because you have faith in me?" Sam asked, tone curious and light, and he was about to skirt some dangerous waters. "That you think I'll get better? Because you," he paused to lick his lips, leaning up until his face met Dean's, "You love me? That's good enough to fix my fuck ups?" He tilted his head, a harsh chuckle bubbling out from him, and he wanted to laugh as much as he wanted to cry.
"Is that gonna save me, Dean? Love?" He didn't know why he was speaking - why he was saying anything right now, or why these words. Cruelty dripped from him as easy as candle wax from flame, and he would mock himself - if he didn't feel so empty already. Or maybe it was because if he pushed his brother away Dean would be safe.
Go on, Sam, don't stop now.
"You always took the beatings so I wouldn't have to, Dean." Sam's eyes clouded over then, with the memories. "Let Dad hurt you, but that was fine, because little Sammy would come out unscathed."
Keep it coming.
"Did a real good fucking job, didn't you?" Sam said, and his tone broke then - tears pricking him again, and his shoulders shook because he didn't want to tell Dean this - he never wanted to blame him for such things. Because this was never Dean's fault - it ran in the family, it just did. Mom's off to the loony bin, Father's a lousy gambling drunk, and their youngest son was nothing but a drop out druggie. But not that eldest boy - he was a good one, that one. Just wanted to help people.
Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous.
"I'm sorry." Sam said, but it was hollow words by this point. With it he collapsed back down on his brother, tired and ruined.
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excerpt from the druggie!sam rp im doing with @catharticsam - playing insane!sam is just so much fun aha :D