Insides Crying Save Me Now

Sam Winchester self harm

WARNING: Self harm triggers

I was inspired by Jared Padalecki's self harm and depression awareness campaign. So, anyone out there reading this, please, Always Keep Fighting!

Title and quotes in italics from "Iridescent" by Linkin Park

The First Time

And with the cataclysm raining down, insides crying save me now. You were there impossibly alone...

"And if by some miracle we pull this off, I want you to lose my number, you understand me?"

Everything came crashing down.

The little family he had was gone now, forever. Cas was God knows where, Dean was treating him like an injured puppy that had done something wrong, and now Bobby. The world was falling apart around him literally, and it was all his fault.

Bobby stared intently into his eyes; Dean stood behind him, his eyes falling to the floor in disappointment. Sam nodded his head. His throat began to close, his eyes began to water. He swallowed hard, trying to fight back tears, before he spoke very quietly.

"There's an old church near by. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there."

"Yeah, you do that," said Bobby.

Sam stared at Bobby, then moved his gaze to Dean, looking for some reassurance, but he keep his eyes on the floor so Sam slowly turned around to make his way to the front door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. He pulled it on as he walked to one of Bobby's few running cars. He opened the door with a creak and turned the key that was already in the ignition. The car started put the car in gear and drove it through the large gate, and as he drove, tears streamed hot down his face.

But he didn't wipe them away. He let them fall, let them leave trails on his cheeks, let them wash away all that he had done. All he was about to do.

Sam pulled up in front of the church. The front was worn. The white siding was faded and peeling in places, and the small set of stairs leading to the wide doors was crooked. The grass was dotted with many wildflowers, and the hanging sign that was staked in the ground hung at an angle. Besides its appearance, the church itself was inviting. It was a little larger than most old churches.

Sam turned the car off and hopped out, slowly making his way up the unstable stairs. He gently pushed the wooden door open and poked his head in. The inside was in a lot better state than the outside. The pews were clean and the floor was spotless. A large stained glass window on the back wall casted colored shards of light across the room. A man in blue jeans and a plaid shirt stood in front of a carved statue of Jesus. He held a pile of papers, and his brows furrowed as he mumbled something to himself. He paced back and forth, not noticing a head of poking through the front door.

The man looked up when Sam opened the door all the way with a creak. "Hello, sir," said the man joyfully. His voice was smooth and deep, full of happiness, full of understanding.

Sam smiled. "Hi, I'm Sam Winchester. Are you Father Jacob?"

The man placed the papers he carried on the front pew. "Yes, I am. How may I help you today, Sam?"

"My uncle told me that this was a good place to read up. You see, I'm doing a project for my Religious Studies class. I'm a student at UND."

Father Jacob nodded and smiled. "Ah, yes, we do have a fairly large library." He pointed to a set of doors just off to the side of the alter. "Go right through those door right there. If you need any help finding anything, just let me know."

Sam bowed his head, "Thanks." He began to walk past Father Jacob when he turned around. "Father, do you have a restroom I could use?"

"Yep, there's a door in the library that leads to it."

"Thank you." Sam walked down the aisle and opened the door to the library. It was much larger than Sam imagined. Shelf after shelf was crammed full of books as thick as his calf. The room smelled of old leather and paper. It felt like home in here, but Sam didn't care. He eyed the bathroom door. He checked behind himself before closing the library door quietly and walking over to the bathroom. Pulling it open, he found that it was a single toilet with a small sink.

He stepped inside, pulled the door closed, and locked it. He stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were a little red, and dark circles formed under them. His face looked gaunt, his cheekbones seemed more defined in the dim halogen light. He sighed loudly while he pulled off his jacket and placed it gently onto the sink. He took a small folded note out of his pant's pocket and put it on his jacket. "Dean" was scribbled on the paper in dark ink.

Sam rolled up both of his shirt sleeves. He examined his forearms. They were muscular, tan, veins popping out from under the skin, all that power wasted, thrown away, twisted, manipulated, corrupted.

He pulled out a small knife out of his pocket and opened it. He stared at the glistening metal and the sharp blade. He took the knife in one hand and drug it down the forearm of the other, digging deep into his flesh, leaving a dark trail of blood that poured down his arm. At first he flinched at the pain, but as he continued to pull the knife down his arm, the less it hurt and the more numb he became. When he reached the inside of his elbow, he pulled the knife away and took it in the other hand. He again pulled the blade across his skin, pushing it further in until a gush of warm blood flowed down, pooling on the floor.

When he finished, he tossed the knife into the sink and sat down on the floor. He began to feel lightheaded, dizzy, and he knew he had done right. Now all was left was to wait for the darkness to come.

There was a gentle knock at the door followed by a deep, raspy voice, "Sam?"

It wasn't Father Jacob. It was Cas.

Dammit, though Sam.

"Sam, are you alright?" asked Cas through the door.

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, Cas, I'm fine." But he knew he didn't sound fine. His voice shook; it was hoarse and quiet.

Cas knocked again. "Sam, may I come in?"

"No," said Sam dizzily. "Don't."

Once more, a knock came, but louder this time. "Sam. Let me in. What's wrong?"

Sam leaned his head back on the wall. "Nothing. Please just go away."

There came a loud pop, and the door opened. Standing in the doorway was Cas who lowered his hand. He looked down at Sam leaning against the wall on the floor. He took in the bloody knife in the sink, the redness smeared on the floor, the streams that flowed from Sam's arms. "Sam!"

Cas rushed forward, grabbing the hand towel that hung beside the sink. He tore it in half and knelt in front of Sam. Sam could barely see Cas. His sight was fuzzy, the world began to spin, bells rung in his ears in time to his slowing heartbeat. Cas wrapped the towels around Sam's forearms in attempt to stop the bleeding.

However, the towels were soon red themselves, soaked in blood. Cas looked around the room for something, anything to stop the bleeding, but nothing was here. He turned back to Sam. Sam's eyes grew heavy, tears streaming down his face. Cas shook Sam's shoulders. "Sam, you can't go to sleep."

Cas looked back down at Sam's mutilated arms. He raised his hand, and a burst of bright light filled the room. "Cas, no," mumbled Sam before he gasped for air. When the light dimmed, Sam saw the cuts were gone, no scars, no blood. Cas fell backwards onto his butt. He took his head in his hands and bowed his head between his knees. Sam tried to stand but fell too, realizing that Cas only stopped the bleeding and mended the wounds; he didn't fix the massive blood loss.

Cas lifted his head and stared at Sam with pity.

It made Sam sick to see the look on Cas's face. He looked at Sam like he was a child that had scraped his knee in a bike accident, not the broken... monster that had tried to end it all, make right with the world, for it was better off without him in it.

"Oh, Sam," whispered Cas.

Sam folded into himself, pulling his long legs into his chest, wrapping his arms around them, bowing his head between his legs, his hair falling into his face. He let the tears come. He sobbed into his legs, tightening his grip on his knees, trying to pull himself in, trying to collapse into himself like a dying star turning into a blackhole.

Scooting himself closer, Cas said, "Why? Why would you do that to yourself, Sam?" He placed a gentle hand on Sam's shoulders, rubbing it along the curve of his back. Cas knew why, he knew all too well. On multiple occasions, he had seen many people take their own lives whether it was by knife or gun or a long way down. He had seen them hurt themselves for reasons known and unknown: by razor, nails, fists, or just not eating at all. He had seen it all, so he knew exactly how Sam felt.

Cas pulled himself besides Sam and leaned back against the wall, his hand still resting on Sam's shoulder. He sighed quietly before he spoke. "Sam, tell me what's the matter."

From between his knees, Sam mumbled, "No."

"Please. I just want to help."

"You wouldn't understand, Cas."

Cas shook his head. "Sam, I've been around a long time. I've seen a lot. I've seen a lot of people do what you did. Here, look at this." Cas leaned forward and slid off his trench coat. Sam looked up as Cas rolled the sleeve up on his left arm, revealing dozens of faded scars up and down his forearm. He turned his arm over to expose cuts on his wrist and the inside of his elbow. "Jimmy was unhappy for a while. High school wasn't good to him. Many people bullied him, threw things at him, called him a freak, all because he was a Godly man. He kept himself clean, didn't go after all the girls like the other boys did, and he was punished for it. He cut himself using the blade from a pencil sharpener. He nearly died once."

"How do you know that?" asked Sam hoarsely.

"I watched Jimmy for most of his life. He is my vessel after all. I was assigned to watch over him, protect him, make sure everything went according to plan. I watched him hurt himself many times." Cas looked into Sam's dim eyes. "So I think I'll understand your pain."

Sam turned away from him and stared at the blood that was smeared on the tile floor. "I'm tired, Cas. I'm so tired. Tired of doing the wrong thing. I screwed up," cried Sam. "I let Lucifer out."

Cas's eyes fell to the blood too. "I know. Dean told me."

Sam's lips quivered, and he began to sob, words coming through cries. "I-I- deserve to- die. Look what- I did. Cas, Dean... he- and Bobby... Cas. I just, just want it to end!"

Wrapping his arms around his shoulders, Cas pulled Sam close. Sam leaned into him as he gripped tightly to his white dress shirt. Cas began to rock the both of them back and forth as he hummed quietly. He rubbed Sam's back and tangled his fingers in Sam's hair. "It's okay, Sam."

"No, it's not... just... make it stop."

"It was not your fault. None of it was your fault."

"Yes, it was."

"No, it wasn't." Cas continued to hold Sam tightly, letting him cry into his chest. Sam slowly began to become quiet, the sobs getting further and further apart. He shook less, and his grip on Cas's shirt loosened.

With shame in his voice, Sam asked, "Do you think they'll forgive me?"

"Who?"

Sam tittered. "Everyone."

"I don't know about everyone, but I know Dean and Bobby will. Just give them time."

"What about you?"

"Of course I do."

They sat for a few minutes in silence then Sam sat up slowly. "How did you know I was here?"

"I went to Bobby's, and they told me you were here. I was going to help you do some research."

Sam smiled grimly. "Thanks, Cas."

Cas smiled back. "You're welcome."

Sam looked back at the blood on the floor. "I'm ready to go now."

"Ok." Cas stood up slowly with his hand resting on the wall. "Can you stand?" He reached his hand out to Sam.

"I think so." Sam tried to unfold himself and stand, but his legs shook violently when he began to put weight on them. He took Cas's hand, and Cas used his other hand to hold Sam up. He put his arm under Sam's, and they began to slowly shuffle out of the bathroom.

"Don't think we should use the front door," said Cas.

"Yeah, probably not the best idea... Um, Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Can we," Sam swallowed. "Can you not tell Dean or Bobby about this?"

"Of course." Cas smiled and Sam returned it.

"Cas?"

"Hmm?"

"Really, thank you. For everything."

"It's what family does."

Remember all the sadness and frustration and let it go, let it go.