imnot_likeyou | [little rock] In which Sam is drunk and lonely.

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[little rock] In which Sam is drunk and lonely.

All it took was another visit from a hunter who recognized him to send Sam spiraling again.

He had left Cleveland a few weeks ago. There had been an incident with another group of hunters that was looking for his head for starting this mess in the first place, and the guy he was working for said he was very sorry, but he had to fire him. He didn't want to risk the guys who's asses he kicked pressing charges. Sam tried to assure him that their records were long enough that they were just as interested in keeping this away from the place as he was, but that didn't seem to do him any good. So Sam did as he was told. He filled his car with as much gas as it could hold, got in the driver's seat and drove until he needed to fill up again.

And then the whole cycle started all over again. He went through town, found himself a job, and started to try and set down roots again. He pretended to be someone else, to hide from the rest of the world, but in the end it just started all over again. It wasn't long at all before the hunters tracked him down again, again, looking for revenge, but this time not from him. From the demons who had killed their friend. They shoved the blood down his throat, tried to get him to swallow, to tap into that dark side of himself that he was trying so hard to crush completely.

He had spat it back in their face, told them all to go to Hell, but he could still taste it in the back of his mouth. No matter how much whiskey he swallowed down, that bitter, coppery taste of blood was still there, and he just couldn't shake it. And more than anything, what he didn't want to do was be alone. He had considered, for a moment, calling Dean, but Dean didn't want him, so he wasn't going to bother. There was only really one person that Sam could call. He didn't want to, because dealing with him right then was probably the last thing she needed, but he didn't know what else to do. He took another swallow of whiskey, before raising his eyes to the ceiling, not even sure if this would work.

"Paige," he rasped softly, before swallowing. "Please?"

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She had been spending some quality time with her nephew when she heard Sam. She didn't just hear him, she felt him. She had felt the pain of her charges before, but that was usually a physical pain. This pain...it was more, and it was a little familiar.

She hadn't realized that her eyes had closed, or that she gasped. Wyatt's hand patted her arm.

"Aunt Paige?"

Her eyes opened again and she looked at Wyatt. "Honey, go upstairs and see your parents. I have to go."

The boy obliged, orbing himself out of the room. Paige followed his orbs, but let herself go to where Sam was. When she arrived and saw him sitting there, she hesitated before sitting beside him.

"Sam?"

He didn't acknowledge her at first. Just leaned back against the headboard and tightening his fingers around the bottle. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say at first. There were things he didn't think she'd understand, or maybe that she'd understand too well, and he wasn't sure he wanted that kind of comradery at the moment. He just wanted someone there who saw Sam. Not a screw up, or a tool, or a weapon.

But eventually he swallowed, before speaking, still not looking at her. "I'm sick of people using me."

She watched him and her eyes fell on the bottle. She bit her lip and reached out to cover his hand on the bottle. "Sam...this isn't going to help."

He pulled the bottle closer to him, not forcefully, but enough to make sure that she wouldn't take it from him. This time, he wasn't drinking solely for drinking's sake. He was doing it for a reason.

"I can still taste it."

"That's a good time to stop," she said softly, not letting go of the bottle.

"Not the booze," he said pointedly, turning his head to actually look at her when she didn't let go of the bottle. His pupils were a little blown, but that wasn't from the alcohol. He could feel the fringes of the high from the drops he couldn't help but swallow, and he was trying to wash it away before he did something stupid, but no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to get rid of it.

"The blood."

Edited 2010-03-06 20:47 (UTC)

She didn't care what the reason was, she wasn't going to let him drink himself sick. She didn't know much about blood, but she knew addiction.

"This still isn't going to help that. You're only covering up one toxin with another."

He shook his head, curling away from her. This was clearly a bad idea. He just wanted someone who wanted to be there for Sam, but even Paige only saw him as an addict with a problem. He just wanted to drink himself to sleep and leave it that. She didn't get it. He wasn't a drinker. Not usually. Right now, it was just the only thing that was working.

He hadn't even drank that much.

"Never mind."

"No. Not never mind." She watched him, concern in her eyes. "It doesn't make it stop. It blurs it over. All the pain, the bad memories...you can drink all you want, but when you wake up it's still going to hurt...and you'll be hung over." Her head tilted slightly and she set her hand against his leg.

"And the thing about trying to drown out all that pain....when it's time to come up for air, it hurts a hell of a lot more."

He took a deep breath as he looked at her, before down at the bottle in his hands. "Everywhere I go, people are only looking to use me. Demons want me for Lucifer, hunters want me to kill demons, my brother doesn't want me at all -- no one just looks at me like Sam."

This wasn't about charge and whitelighter anymore. It was just humanity. "Sam.." she said softly. She moved onto her knees and got closer to him, trying to pull the bottle from his hands as she settled in front of him, eyes level to his. A free hand reached for his cheek.

He let her take the bottle when he felt her hand on his cheek, just looking back at her. He didn't know what she was getting at, but it was nice to have someone actually touch him, and respond to him in a way that wasn't trying to get something out of him. He missed just being cared about. After he lost Jess, anything that came with the sensation just felt ... empty. He was tired of feeling empty.

She pushed the bottle aside and moved her other hand to his other cheek. She inched closer, not quite straddling him, but being close. She looked his face over, brushing it gently with her thumbs, and just looking at him.

He stared back at her, meeting her eyes and just taking in everything he can, before shifting so that he was sitting up more, leaning in to her, close enough to kiss but not quite doing it. Something in him knew it was a bad idea, but he didn't pull away. Just stayed there, eyes closed and feeling the way she breathed against him.

She set her finger against a freckle on his face and smiled slightly. "Freckle. I'll remember that."

He smiled slightly at that, before looking up at her, actually meeting her eyes this time. One hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her close even though he knew he couldn't have it. He was starting to wonder if he really was a masochist, or this was just all he was ever meant to have.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she settled closer in his lap. She knew this was wrong on some level, but she was acting beyond thought. She wanted to take care of him.

"I see you," she whispered.

She was so close, so close and he couldn't hold back anymore. He leaned in slowly, dipping his head so that his lips found hers gently, one hand cupping her face in order to keep her close. She was so soft and warm against him, and he didn't know what else to do but kiss her, keeping her close and pressed against him.

She kissed him back, pressing herself closer. She let her thighs slide closer against his hips, and her fingers moved through his hair.

He groaned into the kiss, pulling her closer and starting to let his hands trail lower, down over her sides to her hip.

Paige sighed softly and let her hands slide down his wide back. She continued the kiss until she needed air, then pulled back and set her forehead to his.

He kept her close, catching his breath himself. "You gotta stop letting me do that," he said softly. He was still drunk but he knew the rules. "Guy might get the wrong idea."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should stop."

He really didn't want her to, but he knew better than to actually say it. Closing his eyes, he leaned back, giving her room to move if she wanted to. But he did note that she said should and not will.

She kept close for a bit, her hands against his chest. She liked being that close, but she knew she shouldn't be.

Even so, she was soon leaning in to kiss him again.

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