Characters: Sam Winchester, Jack
Word Count: 681
Warnings: Sad-ish Sam...but not really anything.
A/N: I wrote this last night after I finished watching the episode. It’s not that much different, I just wanted some more dialogue. It’s unbeta’d so any mistakes you see are mine.
“Sam, why are you being so nice to me?”
Sam looked at Jack, curled up in the corner, sadness etched into his face, and felt his heart ache.
“It's because I...I know what it feels like to feel a darkness inside of you, to feel like you aren't worth anything, or that you're evil and a danger to those that you care about. .”
Jack tilted his head, his eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?” His eyes searched Sam’s, his concern and confusion evident.
Sam sighed, “It...it doesn't matter. What matters is that I understand how you feel and maybe...maybe I'm being too hard on you.”
Jack stared at him, his features sharp and slightly distrusting, “Why does it not matter? It is important enough for you to compare yourself to me, is it not?”
“I guess you're right,” Sam scoffed. He sat on the edge of the table and began to nervously wring his hands. “When I was a baby, a demon came into my room and fed me his blood. I was one of his ‘chosen’. The blood gave me special powers...very similar to yours, actually.”
He paused, but Jack remained silent, watching him intently. “My father figured it out,” he continued, “and he told Dean that if I went dark side...that he'd have to kill me. And it terrified Dean. Hell, it terrified me. The powers I had...they didn't come out often, but when they did, it felt like I wasn't in control of my own body. I thought I was a freak...Dean was scared of me, other hunters were scared of me. I was supposed to use those powers for evil. That was my destiny.”
Jack looked down at his hands before looking back up at Sam, “How did you stop it?”
Sam shrugged, “I didn't. I chose to listen to someone who didn't have my best interests in mind, and it nearly ruined everything.”
He watched Jack process what he'd just said, and hoped he didn't ask the question he thought might be next.
“What did you do?” There it was. Of course Jack would ask that, but it didn't make it any less difficult.
“I thought that by drinking the demon blood that I could make my powers stronger, and that I would be able to save more people. I'd be able to save Dean, and the rest of my family. Instead, I pushed them away. I chose evil over what was right simply for misguided good intentions.”
Jack frowned, “Is that not what you are doing now?”
Sam shook his head, “No, Jack. Because you aren't evil.” He pulled a weary hand across his face, then continued, “When I was struggling with my powers and my...my addiction, my family helped me. When I lost my soul-”
Jack’s eyebrows shot up, “You lost your soul?”
Sam’s head dropped, “Yea...I did.” He looked back up at Jack, his throat tight as he tried to explain to him what being a family was like. “And despite how scared Dean was of me, despite the awful things I did and the lies I told...he and my...my dad,” he nearly choked at the thought of Bobby but managed to keep going, “They believed in me. They didn't give up because they knew that that evil...it wasn't me. It was something I had to deal with, it was inside of me, but it wasn't me. They fought for me with everything they had.”
Sam stood and put his hands in his pockets, “So, yea...I know what it's like to feel like you're evil or a freak, Jack. But I also know all you need is someone that believes in you and shows you the right way. I pushed you too hard, and I'm sorry. We’ll figure this out.” He gave Jack a tight lipped smile and walked away, and Jack’s eyes traveled to the pencil still laying on the desk.
He stared at it, his brows furrowed in concentration and it wiggled slightly. Jack’s eyes widened and a small smile pulled up the corner of his mouth.
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