They'll remember my name - SN, gen, R

[tigriswolf]

Title: They’ll remember my name
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Muriel Rukeyser
Warnings: mentions of pedophilia; gore; spoilers for season 5
Pairings: none stated
Rating: R
Wordcount: 725
Point of view: second

You will remember this moment years later, when you’re older and wiser, been to Hell and pulled out, saved the world and stopped the apocalypse. You will remember holding the gun, heavy and hot, hearing the roar—it’ll be so much smaller later—and know that this choice changed everything.

Blood is so red. You stare at the droplets splattered on the wall and you lower the gun. You can hear nothing—silence echoes in your bones.

You will know, in those years to come, that this is where it all started.

But right now, there’s just you and a smoking gun, just you gasping for breath and a cooling corpse, just you and a dead man.

Even years later, with time and knowledge, you never regret this moment. Staring at him, you know that he had to die. It’s the only way.

You will recall, later, that he bleeds all over you as you move him. That his stench makes you gag and you choke down vomit as you burn him.

You remember later that the smoke clings to you for days and Sammy asks why you smell, while Dad just nods.

But now, lowering the gun, sure in yourself and knowing that you are right, you don’t realize the importance of this moment. You don’t know that this is a turning point, that this choice catches the attention of both Heaven and Hell.

Now, you just know it is necessary. So you kill him and you salt him and you burn him. You don’t look back and you don’t regret, and you never think about him again.

In Hell, the first soul you torture, the first mass of quivering flesh you stick Alistair’s razor into, wears your first kill’s face. Alistair cackles while you don’t even pause.

After you’re out, angelic brand on your arm, you move on, past Hell and Alistair’s icy touch, and you don’t think about when you crawled off the rack, when you offered Alistair your throat and your belly, when you turned your back on a lifetime of learning.

But you don’t know about all this. You don’t know that Michael watches you kill him, that Azazel chortles.

You don’t know that he is a test, or that you pass with flying colors. You don’t know that this moment, this choice, cements Michael’s claim on your body and Azazel’s determination to break you down.

Right now, all you know is that he stares at your baby brother too closely, that he licks his lips and strokes his cock, imagines Sammy on his lap, and that—for that, he has to be punished.

So you punish him, for Sammy and yourself and all the other boys he might’ve hurt. You don’t believe in Heaven and you don’t care about Hell. Right now, all you know is protecting Sammy. Michael is only a half-heard tale from Pastor Jim and Lucifer a well-turned phrase. Neither is real.

What’s real is warm blood and sightless eyes and cooking flesh. What’s real is Sammy and Dad waiting for you. What’s real is the gun in your hand and murder in your heart for the monster that dared think about touching Sam.

This moment, looking in his eyes and choosing to kill him, changes everything. This moment, pulling the trigger of what will become your favorite gun in later years, is when Michael turns to Gabriel and says, I choose that one, brother. This moment, not saying a word as the man begs for his life because he’s got kids at home and a pregnant wife and he never meant any harm, is when Azazel smirks at Lilith and says, My money’s on Sammy Winchester, darlin’.

But you don’t believe in Heaven and you don’t care about Hell. You believe in salt and silver, in leather and guns, in Dad’s strength and Sam’s innocence.

You’re fifteen, and when you kill him you change the world.

You don’t know it, but this moment, when you watch his brain-matter paint the wall—you’ll remember it later as Michael and Lucifer fight to a standstill amid the bones of a city, Heaven and Hell at an impasse.

But you don’t know it yet. You’re still just looking after your little brother, like Dad’s always told you, and you never regret it.

(Sometimes, you follow orders too well.)

Comments

[ciaranbochna.livejournal.com]

Repetition of phrases, protecting Sam, building up armour against it. Powerful.

[tigriswolf]

Thank you for reading!

[alexseanchai]

That's powerful.

[tigriswolf]

Thanks!

[aegean-lethe.livejournal.com]

wow
so beautiful~~~<33333
I love the repetition

[tigriswolf]

Thank you!

[borgmama1of5.livejournal.com]

Wow! Hard-hitting! So plausible how it is Dean's defining moment.

[tigriswolf]

Thank you for reading!

[suzmc.livejournal.com]

And there has to be a moment like this, way back when Dean set things without even knowing it. Kinda like Mary's moment of starting it all downhill with that one deal to save John.

Great work.

[tigriswolf]

Thank you!

[sylvanwitch]

Usually, second person isn't my thing, but this is so deftly done that it really sings. I love the repetition and the motif of sensory images, especially scent, which is, in my experience, a sadly overlooked and powerfully evocative sense. Excellent work. Bravo!

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!

[hereare-mysins.livejournal.com]

Holy shit, head to toe shivers. Great job.

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!

[e313.livejournal.com]

Dean the protector. yes, it fits. and i love how it's written!

[tigriswolf]

Thank you! I had fun with this one.