THIS: *Sam is in a mental hospital and castiel is psychiatrist that sees how good and. Sweet he can be when he is in his right mind but Sam can never understand why he is drawn to castiel and sticks close to him hoping he gets better in a fic and castiel and him can make it work
I am totally doing this for you :) Here's a sneak peak:
Blood. Hot and sticky, congealing in large pools across the floor. There was always so much blood.
Sam spun around, his eyes darting wildly across the room. He could still feel the presence, the monster still lurking in the shadows. He held his breath, hoping the beating of his heart echoing in his head was there and there alone. He took a step back, pressing himself against the wall.
He was still there.
A floorboard in the hallway creaked and Sam felt his heart stop. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit down hard on his tongue, the coppery taste flooding his already bloodied senses. He heard the squish of something moving through the soaked carpet, he could feel the heat radiating from the presence before him.
His eyes flew open along with his mouth in a silent scream.
He knew he was doomed.
“I need some IM Haldol in here!” Sam bucked against the set of hands pushing him down. The metallic tang blood was still in his mouth and he gasped wildly for air, fighting to breathe.
“No! No!” He screamed, clawing at set of hands holding him down. “It was him! It was the monster!”
“Son of a bitch!” The voice belonging to the hands hissed, ripping one of his hands back. “Sam! You need to calm down. I need some help in here!”
“No! I need to go!”
“5?” A second voice joined the room and Sam looked up at the new face in desperation.
“He’s going to come back, please! You have to listen to me!” He pleaded, gripping the wrists that were back against his chest, pulling at the sleeve of his night shirt.
“Make it 10, Ally. He fucking drew blood again.”
“Sam? Hi Sam…” The woman was coming closer, eyes darting back and forth between the glass vial and syringe in her hand to his face. She smiled kindly, and he knew it was useless.
She didn’t care. She didn’t believe him. They would never be able to save him.
“No, no please.” He felt the tears streaming down his cheeks, hot and wet as they dropped down to pool in the hollow of his neck. Pooling, like the blood. “Please… Mom… Dean…”
He felt the pinch in his arm and the woman was speaking to him softly, rubbing her fingers through his hair. The other set of hands withdrew, taking the rest of his fight with them.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-04-04 06:20 am (UTC)I am totally doing this for you :) Here's a sneak peak:
Blood. Hot and sticky, congealing in large pools across the floor. There was always so much blood.
Sam spun around, his eyes darting wildly across the room. He could still feel the presence, the monster still lurking in the shadows. He held his breath, hoping the beating of his heart echoing in his head was there and there alone. He took a step back, pressing himself against the wall.
He was still there.
A floorboard in the hallway creaked and Sam felt his heart stop. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit down hard on his tongue, the coppery taste flooding his already bloodied senses. He heard the squish of something moving through the soaked carpet, he could feel the heat radiating from the presence before him.
His eyes flew open along with his mouth in a silent scream.
He knew he was doomed.
“I need some IM Haldol in here!” Sam bucked against the set of hands pushing him down. The metallic tang blood was still in his mouth and he gasped wildly for air, fighting to breathe.
“No! No!” He screamed, clawing at set of hands holding him down. “It was him! It was the monster!”
“Son of a bitch!” The voice belonging to the hands hissed, ripping one of his hands back. “Sam! You need to calm down. I need some help in here!”
“No! I need to go!”
“5?” A second voice joined the room and Sam looked up at the new face in desperation.
“He’s going to come back, please! You have to listen to me!” He pleaded, gripping the wrists that were back against his chest, pulling at the sleeve of his night shirt.
“Make it 10, Ally. He fucking drew blood again.”
“Sam? Hi Sam…” The woman was coming closer, eyes darting back and forth between the glass vial and syringe in her hand to his face. She smiled kindly, and he knew it was useless.
She didn’t care. She didn’t believe him. They would never be able to save him.
“No, no please.” He felt the tears streaming down his cheeks, hot and wet as they dropped down to pool in the hollow of his neck. Pooling, like the blood. “Please… Mom… Dean…”
He felt the pinch in his arm and the woman was speaking to him softly, rubbing her fingers through his hair. The other set of hands withdrew, taking the rest of his fight with them.
He was doomed.