Sympathetic One;

Season 4 - AU; Snowblind

For four months Sam had had to adjust. He had to learn to bear with the pain and despair. He wallowed. He hated. He wanted to die. Had it not been for Ruby, Sam would have probably soon joined Dean in death. With the way he had carried on, with his reckless and careless behavior, it would have only been a matter of time. The demon had been a blessing to the young Winchester. When he had wanted to give up and give in, Ruby had taken him under her wing. She showed him that he was capable. That he could survive and - most of all - that he was strong.

Sam couldn't express his gratitude enough towards his dark companion. But no matter the bond, no matter the amount of worth she had proven to be to Sam, Dean would have none of it. The instant Dean had returned, all of Sam's hard months of work and labor with Ruby nearly went to waste. And things only got worse the moment the angels decided to get involved. He had been marked as, not only a disgrace, but as an omen over something he had no control over. Azazel had branded Sam. He was permanently banished by the blood in his veins. And that would never change...

There was a period when Sam had been willing to bend. He understood Dean's reasoning - and initially the angels' concerns had swayed the young Winchester enough to convince himself it would be best to stop. Perhaps these powers of his weren't good, even if he tried his best to make them that way. Maybe there would be negative affects, or bad ramifications. He tried -- he earnestly did. With every fiber of his being, Sam fought and struggled to keep his temptations at bay. For months he had hoped and prayed that he wouldn't be alone. That he would be given a miracle, and then Dean had been returned to him. If anyone could truly help Sam through his time of need, surely he could rely on his older brother...

As time went on, the more Sam's withdrawals began to affect him. He realized very quickly that it would almost be impossible for him to carry on without his usual intake of demon blood. Regrettably, Sam began to meet Ruby between cases to get his fill. Everything about these times felt wrong. In his gut Sam knew that this couldn't be right, but his addiction to the tainted crimson blotted out all sense of reason. It blinded him and he fed greedily. He felt alive. He felt fresh. He felt powerful. This was what he needed - what he would always need. How could he be expected to carry on like normal when his tongue had grown accustomed to such a sweet taste and his body was so used to the empowerment that came along with it?

So this is what it had come to. Sneaking behind his brother's back to fulfill his needs? Lying? Hiding? And anything else that would naturally go entirely against anything Sam stood for. Even Sam could admit that he had begun to slip a little. He may have been blindsided to a degree with this addiction, but he wasn't an idiot. There were strings of trouble attached to this habit of his that were obvious even to him. But any time Sam tried to convince himself that he could overcome this and sober up, a voice in the back of his head would talk him out of it. Every time. Almost as if the remnants of whatever lingered in his veins from Ruby's blood had some form of a hold on him.

That voice was speaking to him now. It had been for hours. And those hours accumulated until days had passed and the jittering and clamminess of his hands had begun to get on Sam's last nerve. His leg would tap incessantly if he sat still. His hands shook uncontrollably. His body felt empty. It was incomplete. There was an important element missing. A certain substance that would send his entire being soaring. It was a high he needed.

If it weren't for the fact that Dean had been around all day, Sam would have caved in hours ago and ravaged the flask in his coat for every last drop of what little of Ruby's blood still remained in it. Unfortunate for the young Winchester there had been no openings for him. The gods - or angels, rather - were laughing at Sam somewhere. They surely knew the struggles he had been going through and probably found joy in his misery.

As if it wasn't torture enough as the time trickled slowly into the late evening hours, Sam had to bear with his withdrawals until Dean decided to sleep. Perhaps if he went to bed early his brother would follow suit soon after..? It was the only thing Sam could think to do, without raising any red flags. With that in mind, Sam excused himself for bed time and laid their painfully as he pretended to sleep with baited breath. The seconds felt like minutes. The minutes felt like hours. At long last, and much to Sam's relief, Dean turned out the lights and climbed into his own bed.

After what seemed a lifetime, Dean finally drifted off to sleep. Sam's eyes opened to stare blankly at the back of his head. It must be nice to actually be capable of sleep, he thought as he eased himself upright. His eyes remained glued upon his brother's form as he shifted towards the edge of his bed. Some nights Dean could prove to be quite the heavy sleeper, but other times something as simple as the change in air pressure could jolt him awake.

The large pads of Sam's feet touched down on the floor before he slipped from his bed. Soundless steps guided him across the room where he collected his olive jacket. He slipped into it and with one last glance over his shoulder, Sam quietly turned the door handle. Hazel hues drifted across the vacant parking lot in front of him as he eased the door open, just wide enough to squeeze through.

As he stepped out, he turned to face the door as it eased to a close. Silence was the key. He couldn't risk a simple sound waking his brother. Dean couldn't find out. He couldn't know about the truth of Sam's late night activities. A gentle click was heard to assure the young Winchester that the door had sealed.

There would be all sorts of Hell to pay if Dean figured it out, and Sam knew it. Which is exactly why he would do his damnedest to ensure his secret wasn't discovered. For all Dean knew, it was behind them - and that is just where it would have to stay, because Dean refused to understand. A brisk sigh escaped between pale lips. His hands began to shake as they withdrew from the door handle and he mentally cursed Ruby. It had been months of this; of lies, fishy behavior, and relying solely upon the demon to quench his body of the substance it desired. How could she do this to him? How could she leave him for such long periods at a time while he suffered through unbearable withdrawals? Without his fill on demon blood Sam felt worse than any hard junkie that had been forced to quit cold-turkey.

Having just looked at the empty parking lot two seconds prior, Sam believed he was entirely alone. How wrong he was. His hand reached for the contents in the pocket of his jacket when an unexpected voice spoke out his name. One that Sam didn't recognize in the slightest. The silver flask that he just managed to retrieve slipped from his grasp and clattered to the sidewalk below as he jerked with startelement. Had it not been for the fact that he was already jittery from his lack of demon blood intake Sam would have maintained a calmer demeanor on the surface. However, he had already been on edge as it was. Between the withdrawals and his apprehensiveness from sneaking around, the young Winchester was skittish.

The sweat that coated his forehead was for reasons more than his addiction as Sam turned to face the man. A deep line formed between his furrowing brows as he surveyed the stranger briefly, half stunned and half startled. Sam always felt shamed and guilted by his own shadiness, but to have someone appear just as he was about to throw back the contents of his flask made his stomach churn.

A sickness mingled with the feelings of withdrawal and Sam felt the sudden urge to vomit. His jaw flexed as he swallowed back the notion. His eyes darted towards the fallen flask at his feet before his attention quickly snapped back to Gadreel. He had been alone. There was no doubt in his mind. The angels had sent another one of their soldiers down to shame and humiliate him; to remind Sam of the monster he was.

Sam bent down swiftly to collect the flask at his feet before he straightened himself. A hand rose as a stern look flourished upon his features. Even if it had been a demon in front of him in place of an angel, Sam's response would have be the same. "I'm really not in the mood for a confrontation right now." His tone was dry and bore no sense of respect towards the Celestial being. Perhaps if his meeting with Castiel and Uriel had gone differently (and the past several months of his life hadn't been spent swimming in a  s h i t  fest) Sam might have shown some decency, perhaps even a little excitement. But he knew better. There was nothing good that came from the angels. They were almost as equally evil as the demons Sam exorcised. His hands continued to shake. His body had begun to retaliate and the veins under his skin screamed with an urgency for the blood inside the flask. Sam grit his teeth behind closed lips as he rammed tight fists deep inside his coat pockets.