SpN ficlet: Not 3/3
2/28/11 06:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Not
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam, Michael, Adam(more or less)
Rating:PG
Word Count: 858
Spoilers: references to S5 The End, Swan Song
Warnings:non-graphic description of torture, allusions to incestuous longing
Lucifer was not like Michael at all.
The time Sam spends with Michael is…uncertain. Sometimes he is Sam; sometimes he's a possibility of Sam. Michael finds the meat unattractive and restrictive but remakes Sam in it because he says Sam listens better in it than in any other manifestation. Sam interprets that to mean it hurts more.
Lucifer loves the suit. The time Sam spends with him is fire and ice and endless. Lucifer loves to talk….
"So. I'm bored. And I need you to entertain me while my brother goes off and does…whatever it is he does when he's not trying to convince me of the horrible error of my ways. Did your brother do that? Punish you for stealing cookies? Scold you when you stepped out of line? Tiresome, wasn't it? Don't do this, don’t do that—I imagine he was just full of don'ts."
"Stop." Sam hangs his head. He hates when the Fallen wears Dean's face. Hates when he does that.
"It's this. This is upsetting you, isn’t it?" Fallen asks, and gestures with Dean's hand towards Dean's face. "You have to admit, it's really beautiful. When did you start noticing that?"
"Stop."
"Too many questions? Tell me Sam, when did it change from, 'he's nice to look at' to 'I want to touch'? You could, you know. No one would judge you." Lucifer smiled. "Certainly not I."
"I would. Judge myself," Sam mutters.
"But my Heart, that will never matter; you're here, between the Devil and the deep, forever." The Prince of Lies tilts his head. "You don’t even know what that means, do you? For. Ever. You can't conceive of it, can you? Your tiny, little mind can't hold it. Well, it tastes just a little like this—"
Sam feels galaxies expand under his skin, feels planets come apart against him. Feels an uncountable amount of lives and deaths, tastes their souls pass through him. Beholds all the creations and watches them vanish into time. Forgets who he is, where he came from and what green means and What It All Means and then he's sitting in a garden in spring and a man in a white suit says, "That was fun. Let's do that again."
Lucifer was not like Michael at all.
The Wicked felt things Michael didn't or couldn't, he was unique in that way. He loved his family. He wanted his family to love him back. He was so convinced that they couldn't, he hated them.
There's a thin line between love and hate and you can cross it ten times a day. Sam knows that for the fact it is. He loved his brother and his father and he was capable of hating them almost as much. At the end of the day, love always won out. Wins out.
But for Lucifer….
He reaches down into a lake of fire and pulls Sam up. "Let's play a game," he says, when Sam can breathe again.
Sam notices for the first time the wall around the garden, and then like a ghost appearing, Sam's brother stands in front of him. Sam's joy is tempered by the gun waving in his face. That's…hurtful. But there's a warm, wet, breeze brushing against his skin, a light drizzle caressing his face and the air in his lungs feel good, rich and slightly damp. The grass under his feet is springy and smells like green when he steps on it. It's so good, it's so good and he says oh god, Dean it's—I'm back, It's me, but his lips say, "This is where we end, Dean. This is the way the story goes."
Lucifer inside says, Look, Samuel, this is the fun part.
There's a feeling of setting a foot down on popcorn kernels. Sam looks down and Dean's eyes stare up at him, the soul fleeing his cooling meat.
Sam feels Dean's neck roll under the heel of his shoe and then—crack, there's a feeling of stepping on a dry twig. Sam looks down and Dean's eyes stare up at him, the soul fleeing his cooling meat.
Sam feels Dean's neck roll under his shoe, his heel digs in and the flesh gives like a fluid-heavy sponge, thick and slightly slippery, there's resistance he can feel, even through the leather, which gives way to a feeling of stepping on a dry twig. The crack echoes in his ear and his brother's body jerks. Sam looks down and Dean's eyes stare up at him, the soul fleeing his cooling meat.
And it happens repeatedly until the only thing Sam can remember is that he's killed his brother.
He's burning, angel voices making his skin burn and his blood steam out of his eyes. He's on a cross, bleeding. He's in a hospital corridor and his coffee hits the floor, barely spilling a drop. He's watching his brother sleep, wrapped in a too big hoodie and his chest struggling to draw in breath. He's in a kitchen in tract house, and Dean's lying on the floor bleeding. He's on a bed, jacket still on and something warm and thick drops on his forehead….
"Let's play a game."
Fin~2-27-2011
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam, Michael, Adam(more or less)
Rating:PG
Word Count: 858
Spoilers: references to S5 The End, Swan Song
Warnings:non-graphic description of torture, allusions to incestuous longing
Lucifer was not like Michael at all.
The time Sam spends with Michael is…uncertain. Sometimes he is Sam; sometimes he's a possibility of Sam. Michael finds the meat unattractive and restrictive but remakes Sam in it because he says Sam listens better in it than in any other manifestation. Sam interprets that to mean it hurts more.
Lucifer loves the suit. The time Sam spends with him is fire and ice and endless. Lucifer loves to talk….
"So. I'm bored. And I need you to entertain me while my brother goes off and does…whatever it is he does when he's not trying to convince me of the horrible error of my ways. Did your brother do that? Punish you for stealing cookies? Scold you when you stepped out of line? Tiresome, wasn't it? Don't do this, don’t do that—I imagine he was just full of don'ts."
"Stop." Sam hangs his head. He hates when the Fallen wears Dean's face. Hates when he does that.
"It's this. This is upsetting you, isn’t it?" Fallen asks, and gestures with Dean's hand towards Dean's face. "You have to admit, it's really beautiful. When did you start noticing that?"
"Stop."
"Too many questions? Tell me Sam, when did it change from, 'he's nice to look at' to 'I want to touch'? You could, you know. No one would judge you." Lucifer smiled. "Certainly not I."
"I would. Judge myself," Sam mutters.
"But my Heart, that will never matter; you're here, between the Devil and the deep, forever." The Prince of Lies tilts his head. "You don’t even know what that means, do you? For. Ever. You can't conceive of it, can you? Your tiny, little mind can't hold it. Well, it tastes just a little like this—"
Sam feels galaxies expand under his skin, feels planets come apart against him. Feels an uncountable amount of lives and deaths, tastes their souls pass through him. Beholds all the creations and watches them vanish into time. Forgets who he is, where he came from and what green means and What It All Means and then he's sitting in a garden in spring and a man in a white suit says, "That was fun. Let's do that again."
Lucifer was not like Michael at all.
The Wicked felt things Michael didn't or couldn't, he was unique in that way. He loved his family. He wanted his family to love him back. He was so convinced that they couldn't, he hated them.
There's a thin line between love and hate and you can cross it ten times a day. Sam knows that for the fact it is. He loved his brother and his father and he was capable of hating them almost as much. At the end of the day, love always won out. Wins out.
But for Lucifer….
He reaches down into a lake of fire and pulls Sam up. "Let's play a game," he says, when Sam can breathe again.
Sam notices for the first time the wall around the garden, and then like a ghost appearing, Sam's brother stands in front of him. Sam's joy is tempered by the gun waving in his face. That's…hurtful. But there's a warm, wet, breeze brushing against his skin, a light drizzle caressing his face and the air in his lungs feel good, rich and slightly damp. The grass under his feet is springy and smells like green when he steps on it. It's so good, it's so good and he says oh god, Dean it's—I'm back, It's me, but his lips say, "This is where we end, Dean. This is the way the story goes."
Lucifer inside says, Look, Samuel, this is the fun part.
There's a feeling of setting a foot down on popcorn kernels. Sam looks down and Dean's eyes stare up at him, the soul fleeing his cooling meat.
Sam feels Dean's neck roll under the heel of his shoe and then—crack, there's a feeling of stepping on a dry twig. Sam looks down and Dean's eyes stare up at him, the soul fleeing his cooling meat.
Sam feels Dean's neck roll under his shoe, his heel digs in and the flesh gives like a fluid-heavy sponge, thick and slightly slippery, there's resistance he can feel, even through the leather, which gives way to a feeling of stepping on a dry twig. The crack echoes in his ear and his brother's body jerks. Sam looks down and Dean's eyes stare up at him, the soul fleeing his cooling meat.
And it happens repeatedly until the only thing Sam can remember is that he's killed his brother.
He's burning, angel voices making his skin burn and his blood steam out of his eyes. He's on a cross, bleeding. He's in a hospital corridor and his coffee hits the floor, barely spilling a drop. He's watching his brother sleep, wrapped in a too big hoodie and his chest struggling to draw in breath. He's in a kitchen in tract house, and Dean's lying on the floor bleeding. He's on a bed, jacket still on and something warm and thick drops on his forehead….
"Let's play a game."
Fin~2-27-2011
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