WHO: Sam Winchester. WHAT: He may not be keen on singing in front of other people, but when he's alone it's another story entirely. To sum it up, Sam's doing a bit of self-analyzing. WHEN: 2 AM. WHERE: On the way home from work. Streets and all. RATING: There's language. But other than that, it's just a bitter pity party with a side of angst. So PG-13? STATUS: Complete.
Work had been a disaster. Having a job that required one to sell items made it terribly difficult to get the point across while attempting to do as much through song. There were those among him at work who had been able to deploy perfect sales pitches in merry little tunes, but Sam Winchester was the farthest thing from an eager musician. Having spent the night attempting to avoid his customers entirely, Sam received a rather dramatic telling off by his boss (who Sam found that he really disliked) that included massive forms of dancing that he'd have preferred not to see and a punishment that required him to stay within the store after closing to reseal and reprice dozen upon dozen forms of returned merchandise. It was a lonely and depressing experience at best, keeping him behind doors until a quarter after one with his cheerful boss sending him out with a chipper little tune. If only he hadn't have needed the job so badly. Sam really would have given him something to sing about.
Now he was walking home. Alone. In the dark. The truck he had rented out had been shipped back to where it belonged a while ago. It was getting too expensive, paying the fee for it every week, so Sam just gave it back. He'd end up buying something of his own soon enough. Between work, ripping people at pool, and just collecting what he had before, he'd get there. Could always resort to a card, Sam thought, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He had considered it, back and forth over the past couple days. Originally he wanted to attempt the normal route and earn up the money for a vehicle himself, but now he was getting less sure about anything digging into that particular title. Normal. God, he had been so stupid for thinking that he could ever have anything but the life that he had now. Thinking that being here, with his family, in a new place with new rules would make his chances just a little bit better. Nothing good had ever come out of anything combined with the words 'Sam' and 'normality'. A permanent barrier between he and his father, Jessica's death, the way things were with Heather and himself now...
He shook his head and tugged at his collar again. Stupid blue work shirt. Stupid job. He was pretending to enjoy it, for the sake of everyone else, but deep down Sam was downright miserable. It was a cover. A game. It had it's upside, that being the financial end of it - even if it was minimal - but it's sole purpose served as nothing more than a distraction. His family would think that he was actually doing more with himself, while he did get to do more with himself. It bored him, all of it did, but a distraction was a distraction. Lately, with the things that had been on his mind, it was exactly what he needed. The things that he had gone through with Heather, his family with Alastair; the things that Ruby had asked of him. Thinking about all of it too much made him want to grab his skull and scream out loud. He had fucked up with Heather, he had fucked up with Alastair, and he was pretty damn sure that if he thought too much about Ruby he was going to severely fuck up there. Sometimes he wished that he could just let go of everything. Live alone. Be alone. Let it all go.
♪ "As the car begins to roll. I smile as I lose control..." ♪
He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Wonderful. He was going to spend his evening walking home, singing his friggin' heart out. Could this entire ordeal be anymore retarded? He had been able to keep the show tunes at bay ever since piecing that keeping his mouth shut equaled no humiliating singing and dancing. And it had worked, mostly. But now, against his will, he was beginning to sing. And the funny thing was that he hadn't intended to start talking or singing or anything like that in the first place. He had just been thinking. Could all of this not be avoided in any way after all? Shaking his head in frustration, Sam sighed and looked around, noting that, at the very least, the streets were practically abandoned. At least he didn't have to worry about having an audience to cynically stare him down.
♪ "This weightlessness is such a gift 'cause gravity has lost its hold." ♪
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Sam stared the sidewalk down, practically singing down the front of his irritating shirt. He was already regretting this. Letting his emotions dominate him enough so that he had to go all out and perform some ridiculous solo. A self-pitying solo, nonetheless. In the middle of the street. The concept of tracking down the bastard behind all of this never did feel so much more sweeter than it did right now. Lifting his eyes tiredly, Sam looked up at the sky. It was faintly speckled with stars. He could barely make them out, the city tended to obscure things like that when one was wandering the streets, but they were still visible.
♪ "I see the sky, and then the ground, kaleidoscope of light and sound. Catching flashes of my life. Just then the house lights all went out." ♪
Flashes of his life. Saving people, hunting things. Butting heads. Disappointing people constantly. There certainly didn't seem to be a lot for himself to look back on. The helping people thing was the best part that came out of it all. Everything else just felt like a waste, outside of that concept and the fact that he still had his family here, after everything. That was the best part about this place. Having them. They weren't as closely knit as he'd have preferred for them to be, but they were all alive. That was what mattered most. But everything else? What had he been doing his entire life? Aiming for the impossible. Shooting for the fucking stars. That had gone terribly well, hadn't it?
♪ "I wanna know myself so bad it hurts." ♪ He kicked at the sidewalk, arms folding over his chest. ♪ "I am a shelf just holding on." ♪
Couldn't be normal like he had always wanted. So then who was he? What was he supposed to do? Hunt for the rest of his life? Plaster a fake smile across his face and pretend that everything was all right? He was doing that now. Didn't quite feel as wonderful as he had hoped it would. Pretending wasn't the same.
♪ "I said goodbye so many times in my life. I'm surprised it's still so hard for me to see that I should start living my life." ♪ Downcast, Sam ran a hand through his hair, stride slowing. ♪ "Or I will die unfulfilled and empty." ♪ That was what it felt like at this point. He was leading his own pity party on that front, but it was the way he was. How he felt. Failing himself, failing Dean, failing Heather, failing everyone with Alastair. Dean had gotten the job done, and Sam was glad for it, but there was still the bitter disappointment that tinged through him when he realized that all that training had practically been for nothing. Lilith got shot down by Dean, Alastair got shot down by Dean...and where had he been again? Training. That's right. Just training. For absolutely nothing. What was the point?
Steps slowing into nothing, Sam paused, apparently coming up next to an apartment complex. Leaning on his side against the brick wall, he stared ahead, eyes tracing the streets while the words just kept on coming. Would they ever stop? He wished that they would. ♪ "I come to still in the chair, as yellow angels step with care. My spinal cord's still sending shocks." ♪ He leaned back, turning so his back was pressed flatly against the wall. Eyes screwing shut, Sam sharply sent out the next verse, knowing better than anyone how true the statement was. ♪"But my life's in need of repair. There's got to be more than this. I don't want to just exist as a hollow house for bones. "♪
There had to be more. He had to be more. Stronger. Better. Was there really a way for him to make a difference out there? Outside of that. The next step, according to her. He had thought it over more than once. A disgusting concept, all of it was, but if it worked? If it helped make him better? Wouldn't that be a good thing? If he could help people, stop those things like Alastair without looking like an idiot; without having to stand by helplessly as the people around him got hurt. He had lost too much in his life already. Standing by helplessly. Watching without any control at all. But he could change that. All of it. No one he loved would ever have to suffer again. Dad and Dean would never walk through the gates of Hell, Mom would never have to worry about becoming a ghost, and Ben...he'd never get the chance to know what it was like, being all alone. It was the worst feeling in the world. Sam knew. God, he knew. He didn't know about Hell, he didn't know about Heaven, but he knew what it was like to wish that something would rip him apart and eat him alive. Ben would never feel that. Not if he had anything to say about it.
♪"Is there a place where I can start again?" ♪
It was becoming disturbingly obvious that he had a choice to make and Sam didn't think that he was anywhere near ready to make it. It was a big step. It went against everything that he believed and stood for. But if it was the one thing out there that could make everything that he was worthwhile? Would it not be worth it then? Sam couldn't be a lawyer, he obviously wasn't the perfect son. But hunting. And actually doing it to the point where nothing could harm anyone he cared for because of him, because...dare he think that nothing could stop him? Doing that. Making a difference; turning what he was into something good. Becoming someone that he wasn't now. He was not happy with himself. He hadn't been for a very long time. Maybe that would change if...
It was wrong. It was wrong. It was wrong. He had to remember. Sam was standing his ground against it all for a reason. It was wrong.
Stepping away from the building, Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and kept on walking. As he moved toward the Winchester home, he recited the last verses of his song.
♪ "Wake up, you're sleeping." ♪ He had to wake up. He had to do more with himself. But he couldn't give in and blindly drive into the dark. If he did that, who knew what would happen? He had to remember. What she was asking of him was wrong. But if it worke - no. No.
♪ "Wake up, you're sleeping behind the wheel. Wake up, you're sleeping behind the wheel. Wake up, you're sleeping behind the wheel." ♪