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SpN micro ficlet: Not 1/3
Title: Not
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam
Rating:PG
Word Count: 267
Spoilers: refs S6
The results of thinking 'bout stuff, trying to get past the enormous block, wanting to finish something…you know how that goes.
It wasn't that Sam was tortured by Michael and Lucifer—occasionally Lucifer turned his attention to him, just to assure Sam that he hadn't been happy with the way his sojourn topside ended but it was pique really, not torture. Or at least, Torture torture.
Michael didn't torture, he…admonished. He scolded, sadly, with no relish, in a way that certainly would have had an angel feeling shame, possibly discomfort…an angel. An angel would have received and withstood Michael's chastising the way a child withstood a scolding from Mother or Father. For a human, corporeal or not, it compared to being dandelion fluff in a thunderstorm, kindling in the flames.
It wasn't torture that threaded through every bit of Sam's soul and echoed endlessly in the cage made of infinity, it was being caught in the middle in a way that no one living had ever experienced. A rumble of galactic proportions, a family disagreement older than recorded time and more vicious than anything Alistair or Lilith or Andras or Moloch or anyone could conceive of. Ten thousand million billion worst Thanksgiving dinners wrapped in dysfunctional family get-togethers and marinated in loathing and anger and disappointment and that feeling of betrayal that only family can make feel like being flayed alive. Michael and Lucifer slugged it out to the tune of Dad liked you best and I hate you and you never loved me, and Sam was ground between the two of them like grain between millstones.
Occasionally, when he could draw a breath and the inside of his head was momentarily his own, he felt sorrow for Dean….
on to part 2
2-24-20011
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam
Rating:PG
Word Count: 267
Spoilers: refs S6
The results of thinking 'bout stuff, trying to get past the enormous block, wanting to finish something…you know how that goes.
It wasn't that Sam was tortured by Michael and Lucifer—occasionally Lucifer turned his attention to him, just to assure Sam that he hadn't been happy with the way his sojourn topside ended but it was pique really, not torture. Or at least, Torture torture.
Michael didn't torture, he…admonished. He scolded, sadly, with no relish, in a way that certainly would have had an angel feeling shame, possibly discomfort…an angel. An angel would have received and withstood Michael's chastising the way a child withstood a scolding from Mother or Father. For a human, corporeal or not, it compared to being dandelion fluff in a thunderstorm, kindling in the flames.
It wasn't torture that threaded through every bit of Sam's soul and echoed endlessly in the cage made of infinity, it was being caught in the middle in a way that no one living had ever experienced. A rumble of galactic proportions, a family disagreement older than recorded time and more vicious than anything Alistair or Lilith or Andras or Moloch or anyone could conceive of. Ten thousand million billion worst Thanksgiving dinners wrapped in dysfunctional family get-togethers and marinated in loathing and anger and disappointment and that feeling of betrayal that only family can make feel like being flayed alive. Michael and Lucifer slugged it out to the tune of Dad liked you best and I hate you and you never loved me, and Sam was ground between the two of them like grain between millstones.
Occasionally, when he could draw a breath and the inside of his head was momentarily his own, he felt sorrow for Dean….
on to part 2
2-24-20011