We As Human

Chapter 1

"Now I see I can't see myself;
I believed I was stronger than I felt.
Everything turned to golden,
Then it fell apart.
It's the same old story.
It's the same sad song.
Where did I go wrong?

Lay me down in the waves;
Let the water wash away.
And if I leave with the tide,
In the morning I will rise,
So lay me down.
Don't lift me out.
Let me drown."

- Let Me Drown, We As Human

Sam splashed his face and leaned on the sink, cool water dripping from his nose and chin. He tilted his head up and met his own eyes, bloodshot and raw from rubbing. Each heavy, crackling pant left a small spot of fog on the mirror.

Come on... come on...

His heart pounded against his sternum, muscles wound tight around his ribcage, and he couldn't breathe. His head was spinning, throbbing, aching. His legs and arms quivered, his vision swam, and fire ran hot through his veins.

He had been that way for about fifteen minutes.

When the symptoms had first started, Sam hadn't wasted any time getting away from Dean long enough to pop an Ativan. And then he waited... and waited... and he still had a few minutes to go.

Do you really want it to work, though?

Sam shoved the voice aside. He refused to debate that question—refused to even consider it—no matter how valid it might have been. Which was hard, because it was valid.

Not that Sam didn't want his panic attack to be over, he just knew that as soon as it was... the crushing fatigue, the guilt and self-loathing, the cloud of fog cloaking his brain, the depression would all come rushing back.

No. I have to keep it together. Sam screwed his eyes shut. I can't afford to break now. I don't have the right, not after what I've done. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. This is my mess. I did this, and I need to fix it.

How, he didn't know, because he had never screwed up apocalyptically before, but he knew he had to fix things. Depression would have to wait. Anxiety would have to wait. When the stakes were considered, his health wasn't even in the backseat, it was in the trunk. Or being pulled along in a trailer.

Okay. Here we go.

Sam took another deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, giving himself a determined look in the mirror. He was still a wreck, but he wasn't so much of a wreck that he couldn't fake it for a few minutes. Once he was out of the motel, he could panic all the way to the library, and by then, the drug would be in full effect.

Let's do this.

Sam took another breath and opened the bathroom door, reentering the motel room with a small smile and a nervous question. "Did you, uh, did you call Bobby?"

"Yup." Dean didn't glance up from Sam's computer, one hand absently maneuvering a beer to his lips. "He's on his way." Dean took a drink. "I'm googling a list of hills in the United States named after dogs."

Sam blinked in surprise, tilting his head. "There's a list?"

"No, which is why it's taking me a million years." Dean heaved a sigh and shook his head. His tone was humorous but not lighthearted, and he still couldn't bring himself to look Sam in the eyes.

Which Sam understood fully, but it still hurt. Not that he would complain. He had made his bed, and he had to lie in it.

"You're a monster, Sam; a vampire."