Work Text:
Sam Winchester loved playing with fire. Literally. lBurning leaves, pieces of paper or journals. Anything really.
First he used matches, that he stole from Dad’s bag. Then he took Dean’s lighter and kept it, Dean noticed and didn’t say anything ; he didn’t mind.
But then, little pieces of paper weren’t enough, so he started burning bigger things. Building campfires and throwing old useless thing in it ; old toys, old clothes, sometimes even books (it was mostly the bibles he found in motel room’s drawers).
It wasn’t enough though, the smell of burning papers or fabric or plastic, he needed to feel the heat, to see the flames, to see the bright oranges and yellows and reds and blues.
Burning corpses during hunts weren’t really fun, he couldn’t stay watching the thing burn, they always had to leave fast.
It wasn’t enough.
The first building he burned down had been an abandoned wooden little house in the woods that was outside the town they’ve been staying in. For a second he hesitated, wanting to run inside of it, inside the house on fire, and he had a feeling of déjà vu.
But he watched the house burn down until all was left was ashes. (And inside of him were ashes too)
In the next town they stayed at, in the middle of a night, he burned down the church.
Buildings were alright for a while. But it still wasn’t what he wanted, he wanted flames and heat all the time, he needed it.
(He wanted to come back into the fire Dean took him out of.)
So he decided what he was going to burn next.
The next morning, a boy with golden eyes burned down the world, opening the gates of Hell, releasing flames that devastated everything, every beings. The whole world was burning and finally, finally, Sam Winchester knew that was what he had always wanted. The fire he wanted to start and watch since he was taken out of this house on fire all those years ago.
The whole world was burning at his feet and he felt like a fire had started within him as well, as if flames were now running in his veins instead of blood.
He was home.