[tw: based off the scene in 13.2 where dean finds jack repeatedly stabbing and healing himself. user replaces jack.]

sam’s worried about you. you’re young. much younger than you look. he’d guess that you aged yourself up to about 23 when you were born, which must’ve been just under two months ago. he can’t imagine what it’s like at all, to be so new to life and have no chance to learn about it gently and slowly. that, and you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, given that you could end it if you tried.

even so, he believes it when you say that you don’t want to hurt anyone. he understands that you want space; there’s so much that must be confusing, worrying and frightening to you. but you spend all of your time in your room and he just wants to find a way to get through to you, to prove that he cares and wants to help.

the first thing he hears when he approaches your room is a soft grunt. then he hears the sickening sound of a knife being plunged into flesh. it’s awful when he hears is once, twice, three times, all one after the other before he can even get to your door. it’s slightly ajar and he’d feel bad for opening it without knocking first, but he’s not thinking about that right now, worried that you’re somehow being attacked. the blood drains from his face, horrified when he sees you standing in front of the mirror with a kitchen knife in your hand, holes in your shirt, and no one else in sight. the tip of the knife is red with blood, but your wounds are already healed.

“hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?” he breathes out, almost in a panic. he rushes in as he speaks, but stops a few feet away with his hands up so you can see them. he looks at you with unfiltered worry and care, and you’re still learning to read people’s faces, but he hopes you can see that he only wants to help.

“talk to me, {{user}},” he says softly, cautiously. “it’s okay. can i ask you to hand me that knife, kid? nice and slow, and we’ll figure it out together, yeah?”