Seduction -- SN fic -- R -- wincest
May. 25th, 2006 09:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigriswolfTitle: Seduction
Fandom: "Supernatural"
Disclaimer: not my characters. just for fun.
Warnings:spoilers for everything and nothing
Pairings: one-sided incestuous slash of the boys; mentions of John/Mary, Sam/Jess
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1990
Point of View: third
It hurts and burns that they didn’t notice, but it’s better that way. It’d kill him, except you can’t kill a dead man—but you can, and he knows that. Knows it better than most, better even than his dad, because he dies every day, only to wake in the morning and die again, over and over, ‘til kingdom come—until he sees Sam again, and says everything he’s ever needed to say and held back because Sam needed him to.
Sam didn’t ever want God’s honest truth—probably because neither of them believed in God—and so he always bit his tongue, held back the words, stifled everything in his throat, and tried to pour it out of his eyes, to burn the air between them, except Sam never picked up the messages, because he didn’t want to. Didn’t want to know it, to hear it, to feel it.
Maybe Dean was dead before Sam left, murdered and cut into pieces by Sam’s denial and unknowing apathy. He honestly doesn’t know anymore. He sometimes can’t tell what he dreamed, what he fantasized, and what actually happened, which is bad in his line of work, but can’t be helped because so much of his life is a fucking nightmare, and he’s pretty sure he’s begged for death every day since Momma went bursting into flame above Sam’s crib.
He sometimes wonders if he’s in a loony bin somewhere and none of it ever happened, and he wonders if that’d be better.
-----
All he wants is what he’s never had, but he’s not jealous of the families he watches. They don’t know, can’t see—and they might be lucky for a while, but it could kill them in the end, kill them and they won’t even know what cut out their hearts or tore out their throats, or a thousand other painful deaths.
Of course, the fact that he knows what could kill him won’t make it any easier, but he’s the one-eyed man in the land of the blind, and all he sees is what he wants but can’t ever have, because Sam doesn’t want him back. Sam can’t want him back. It’d be too right, too wrong—too something. It’d be perfect, but it’d ruin Sam—Dean knows that beyond all shadows of a doubt.
Even now, after Jess and everything her death was the catalyst of, Sam has some shreds of innocence, tattered and bloody, hanging around him, a halo shining bright. Dean hasn’t told Sam, and won’t, that he’s the beacon, the lighthouse, the seduction that leads all sorts of monsters to them, the light that almost demands to be tarnished.
Dean, on the other hand, knows exactly why the darkness follows him around, hovers at his edges, encroaches on his mental borders—and he knows that Sam needs to know, but if Sam can’t see it himself, Dean sure as hell isn’t going to open that door, because he doesn’t want to lose his fragile control and take what’s been his since evil flambéed his mother and sent them careening down this road.
----
They can’t have a happy ending. Dean knows that, even if Dad and Sam can’t see it. Dad and Sam aren’t in the long haul; Dad’s been deluding himself in the name of his wife and vengeance for so long he’s almost lost himself, but after that demon is killed, he’ll be gone. He’ll return to the daylight, leave behind all his rage and pain, finally be able to rest after more than twenty years.
And Sam, poor Sam, he’ll return to his apple pie life, live out his dreams, meet someone new. He’ll escape, like he’s always wanted.
But Dean... Dean doesn’t have a normal life to return to. He can’t have a happy ending, because he couldn’t survive without the hunt, without his father and brother, without the blood and pain and death that haunt them so much.
Dad and Sam are the light, and Dean is the darkness. They’re the justice, the reluctant heroes, while Dean is the one just on the edge of falling into vengeance and losing himself in madness. The one who could be consumed by the darkness in him, become twisted and what he’s hunted. They both ignored the signs, Dad and Sam, and have forgotten. Dean though... he knows, and he knows Sam could hold him to the light, if Sam’d ever get off his ass and quit pretending that it’s not there, because being blind’ll kill them both.
-----
It’d be easy to slip, so easy, and he knows he could pull Sam with him. Sam wouldn’t even fight, not really, because Dean is Dean. Even though Sam denies the need between them, he’ll follow Dean to the ends of the earth and back, even through Hell’s front door, because Dean is the protector, the warrior—the one who knows, the one who feels, the one who’ll fight tooth and nail and Satan himself to keep Sam safe—
And the darkness beckons, with promises of Sam finally attained, but Dean turns his back on them, smiles at Sam, and fakes his way through another day.
----
He died four years ago today and never bothered to tell his father or Sam.
Honestly, they should have known. They’re the ones who killed him, after all.
He died, and stepped a little closer to the edge, and every day without Sam the way he wants pushes him even closer. He’ll hold on, as long as he can, and it gets harder every second. Madness looms in the corners of his mind, and sometimes he forgets what he’s fighting for, but then Sam’ll say something, and it snaps back into place.
Maybe... maybe, a part of him ponders, the part he tries to forget is there, the part the shifter shoved to the forefront with its’ little rant of half-truths and slanted-truths, maybe it’d be better to have Sam and become what they hunt, instead of long for Sam and be on the good side.
It’d be easier to fall and drag Sam with him, finally take what he’s longed for as long as he can remember, than fight the temptation, than pretend and fake and act, but taking what he wants and being given it willingly are two completely different things, and one’ll be sweet—sweeter than any sin ever committed—and the other... the other’ll be Paradise and Eden and Utopia—every Heaven ever fathomed and more. Sam finally waking up and realizing what he needs’ll be better than anything Dean’s ever had, better than anything Dean can imagine, and he can wait till then.
Sam’s his. Sam’s always been his and’ll always be his, even if he doesn’t know it yet. Dean is possessive, protective, on the edge of madness—and Sam’ll keep him in the light.
Until Sam falls, at least. And then... then... then all bets are off.
Fandom: "Supernatural"
Disclaimer: not my characters. just for fun.
Warnings:spoilers for everything and nothing
Pairings: one-sided incestuous slash of the boys; mentions of John/Mary, Sam/Jess
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1990
Point of View: third
He died four years ago today and never bothered to tell his father or Sam.
Honestly, they should have known. They’re the ones who killed him, after all.
It hurts and burns that they didn’t notice, but it’s better that way. It’d kill him, except you can’t kill a dead man—but you can, and he knows that. Knows it better than most, better even than his dad, because he dies every day, only to wake in the morning and die again, over and over, ‘til kingdom come—until he sees Sam again, and says everything he’s ever needed to say and held back because Sam needed him to.
Sam didn’t ever want God’s honest truth—probably because neither of them believed in God—and so he always bit his tongue, held back the words, stifled everything in his throat, and tried to pour it out of his eyes, to burn the air between them, except Sam never picked up the messages, because he didn’t want to. Didn’t want to know it, to hear it, to feel it.
Maybe Dean was dead before Sam left, murdered and cut into pieces by Sam’s denial and unknowing apathy. He honestly doesn’t know anymore. He sometimes can’t tell what he dreamed, what he fantasized, and what actually happened, which is bad in his line of work, but can’t be helped because so much of his life is a fucking nightmare, and he’s pretty sure he’s begged for death every day since Momma went bursting into flame above Sam’s crib.
He sometimes wonders if he’s in a loony bin somewhere and none of it ever happened, and he wonders if that’d be better.
-----
All he wants is what he’s never had, but he’s not jealous of the families he watches. They don’t know, can’t see—and they might be lucky for a while, but it could kill them in the end, kill them and they won’t even know what cut out their hearts or tore out their throats, or a thousand other painful deaths.
Of course, the fact that he knows what could kill him won’t make it any easier, but he’s the one-eyed man in the land of the blind, and all he sees is what he wants but can’t ever have, because Sam doesn’t want him back. Sam can’t want him back. It’d be too right, too wrong—too something. It’d be perfect, but it’d ruin Sam—Dean knows that beyond all shadows of a doubt.
Even now, after Jess and everything her death was the catalyst of, Sam has some shreds of innocence, tattered and bloody, hanging around him, a halo shining bright. Dean hasn’t told Sam, and won’t, that he’s the beacon, the lighthouse, the seduction that leads all sorts of monsters to them, the light that almost demands to be tarnished.
Dean, on the other hand, knows exactly why the darkness follows him around, hovers at his edges, encroaches on his mental borders—and he knows that Sam needs to know, but if Sam can’t see it himself, Dean sure as hell isn’t going to open that door, because he doesn’t want to lose his fragile control and take what’s been his since evil flambéed his mother and sent them careening down this road.
----
They can’t have a happy ending. Dean knows that, even if Dad and Sam can’t see it. Dad and Sam aren’t in the long haul; Dad’s been deluding himself in the name of his wife and vengeance for so long he’s almost lost himself, but after that demon is killed, he’ll be gone. He’ll return to the daylight, leave behind all his rage and pain, finally be able to rest after more than twenty years.
And Sam, poor Sam, he’ll return to his apple pie life, live out his dreams, meet someone new. He’ll escape, like he’s always wanted.
But Dean... Dean doesn’t have a normal life to return to. He can’t have a happy ending, because he couldn’t survive without the hunt, without his father and brother, without the blood and pain and death that haunt them so much.
Dad and Sam are the light, and Dean is the darkness. They’re the justice, the reluctant heroes, while Dean is the one just on the edge of falling into vengeance and losing himself in madness. The one who could be consumed by the darkness in him, become twisted and what he’s hunted. They both ignored the signs, Dad and Sam, and have forgotten. Dean though... he knows, and he knows Sam could hold him to the light, if Sam’d ever get off his ass and quit pretending that it’s not there, because being blind’ll kill them both.
-----
It’d be easy to slip, so easy, and he knows he could pull Sam with him. Sam wouldn’t even fight, not really, because Dean is Dean. Even though Sam denies the need between them, he’ll follow Dean to the ends of the earth and back, even through Hell’s front door, because Dean is the protector, the warrior—the one who knows, the one who feels, the one who’ll fight tooth and nail and Satan himself to keep Sam safe—
And the darkness beckons, with promises of Sam finally attained, but Dean turns his back on them, smiles at Sam, and fakes his way through another day.
----
He died four years ago today and never bothered to tell his father or Sam.
Honestly, they should have known. They’re the ones who killed him, after all.
He died, and stepped a little closer to the edge, and every day without Sam the way he wants pushes him even closer. He’ll hold on, as long as he can, and it gets harder every second. Madness looms in the corners of his mind, and sometimes he forgets what he’s fighting for, but then Sam’ll say something, and it snaps back into place.
Maybe... maybe, a part of him ponders, the part he tries to forget is there, the part the shifter shoved to the forefront with its’ little rant of half-truths and slanted-truths, maybe it’d be better to have Sam and become what they hunt, instead of long for Sam and be on the good side.
It’d be easier to fall and drag Sam with him, finally take what he’s longed for as long as he can remember, than fight the temptation, than pretend and fake and act, but taking what he wants and being given it willingly are two completely different things, and one’ll be sweet—sweeter than any sin ever committed—and the other... the other’ll be Paradise and Eden and Utopia—every Heaven ever fathomed and more. Sam finally waking up and realizing what he needs’ll be better than anything Dean’s ever had, better than anything Dean can imagine, and he can wait till then.
Sam’s his. Sam’s always been his and’ll always be his, even if he doesn’t know it yet. Dean is possessive, protective, on the edge of madness—and Sam’ll keep him in the light.
Until Sam falls, at least. And then... then... then all bets are off.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-28 03:01 pm (UTC)