SPN Fic: an argument in defense of the necessity of a soul (Sam)
Title: an argument in defense of the necessity of a soul
Characters: Sam; ensemble (Sam/Jess, Sam/Ruby)
Rating: R
Words: 708
Spoilers: General spoilers through season six.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Soul- the immaterial essence, animating principle, or actuating cause of an individual life.
These are things that Sam Winchester remembers, but no longer understands:
i. Dreams
His back pressed against the cool leather of the Impala, the road singing lullabies to the rhythm of Dean’s snores, Sam Winchester dreams himself a better life as his father drives him toward another motel, another monster, another death.
In his dreams he has a mother and a house with a backyard. He has a room that belongs to him and a dog that sleeps at the foot of his bed. And he has a Dean, but not this Dean.
He doesn’t have a destiny, but he has something better---a future, with all the possibility that entails.
John hits a bump and it all fades away.
ii. Grief
The fire sparks, the hot embers burn his hands, his face---he doesn’t feel it. The air is filled with the acrid smell of his father’s flesh burning. He’ll be nothing but ash soon.
Sam stands with his brother, shoulder to shoulder, until the flames die.
iii. Devotion
Family.
Dean lobbies the word around like a grenade of guilt. Sam knows why. It’s all he has, all he’s ever had. He doesn’t---can’t---understand the need to run, to be something other than who he is.
Sam runs away. He slips out while Dean’s getting them dinner, leaves with no intention of coming back. His heart hammers in his chest and he’s scared, but not enough to make him turn around. They find him, Dean and John, find him and scream at him and drag him back.
He can’t look Dean in the eye. Can’t say, I don’t want this because it sounds too much like I don’t want you.
He won’t run again.
iv. Freedom
Stanford is a blessing. After years of dreaming about normal, he never imagined it could be everything he wanted it to be, but it is. It’s all that and more. It’s a room he shares with a boy from Michigan who’s parents are fucked up, man, it’s studying until his eyes blur and his hands shake from a day of guzzling coffee, it’s reading Tolstoy, it’s jello shots, it’s Jess.
He never wants it to end.
v. Love
Jess snorts when she laughs, leaves bite marks on every pencil she comes in contact with, sucks at poker but always kicks his ass when they play chess, steals his shirts without asking, hates cooking, calls her mother every Sunday and talks for two hours straight, smells like raspberries and vanilla, always cries at the end of Thelma & Louise, can send a shiver down his spine with nothing but the whisper of his name---
As long as he’s here to remember these things, she’ll never really be gone.
vi. Anger
He thinks it will swallow him whole one day and then he’ll be just another monster, just another thing that needs to be killed. The truth is that he’s lost too much, been fucked over one too many times. This life has left him bitter and pissed and he has to carry it with him now.
The blood makes it worse, even though he tells himself it makes it better. He pours his frustration and pain into every kill, wrenches demons from their vessels and forgets to care about the people he can’t save, fucks Ruby in alleys and bathrooms and on dirty motel beds with the copper taste of her blood in his mouth.
He loses control and he hates himself for it.
vii. Joy
There’s an apocalyptic rainfall happening outside their window and they’ve just put another case to bed, so it seems like as good a time as any to take a day off.
They sprawl side by side on the same twin bed with a bag of Cheetos propped between them and watch an Indiana Jones marathon, screeching Indie’s lines at the screen before he has a chance to open his mouth. Sam passes Dean the last beer and Dean pops the top, takes a long drink, and passes it back. They stay like that---laughing and drinking and eating junk, until long after the rain stops.
viii. Sacrifice
The last thing he sees before he falls into the pit is his brother’s face.
He has no regrets.
Characters: Sam; ensemble (Sam/Jess, Sam/Ruby)
Rating: R
Words: 708
Spoilers: General spoilers through season six.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Soul- the immaterial essence, animating principle, or actuating cause of an individual life.
These are things that Sam Winchester remembers, but no longer understands:
i. Dreams
His back pressed against the cool leather of the Impala, the road singing lullabies to the rhythm of Dean’s snores, Sam Winchester dreams himself a better life as his father drives him toward another motel, another monster, another death.
In his dreams he has a mother and a house with a backyard. He has a room that belongs to him and a dog that sleeps at the foot of his bed. And he has a Dean, but not this Dean.
He doesn’t have a destiny, but he has something better---a future, with all the possibility that entails.
John hits a bump and it all fades away.
ii. Grief
The fire sparks, the hot embers burn his hands, his face---he doesn’t feel it. The air is filled with the acrid smell of his father’s flesh burning. He’ll be nothing but ash soon.
Sam stands with his brother, shoulder to shoulder, until the flames die.
iii. Devotion
Family.
Dean lobbies the word around like a grenade of guilt. Sam knows why. It’s all he has, all he’s ever had. He doesn’t---can’t---understand the need to run, to be something other than who he is.
Sam runs away. He slips out while Dean’s getting them dinner, leaves with no intention of coming back. His heart hammers in his chest and he’s scared, but not enough to make him turn around. They find him, Dean and John, find him and scream at him and drag him back.
He can’t look Dean in the eye. Can’t say, I don’t want this because it sounds too much like I don’t want you.
He won’t run again.
iv. Freedom
Stanford is a blessing. After years of dreaming about normal, he never imagined it could be everything he wanted it to be, but it is. It’s all that and more. It’s a room he shares with a boy from Michigan who’s parents are fucked up, man, it’s studying until his eyes blur and his hands shake from a day of guzzling coffee, it’s reading Tolstoy, it’s jello shots, it’s Jess.
He never wants it to end.
v. Love
Jess snorts when she laughs, leaves bite marks on every pencil she comes in contact with, sucks at poker but always kicks his ass when they play chess, steals his shirts without asking, hates cooking, calls her mother every Sunday and talks for two hours straight, smells like raspberries and vanilla, always cries at the end of Thelma & Louise, can send a shiver down his spine with nothing but the whisper of his name---
As long as he’s here to remember these things, she’ll never really be gone.
vi. Anger
He thinks it will swallow him whole one day and then he’ll be just another monster, just another thing that needs to be killed. The truth is that he’s lost too much, been fucked over one too many times. This life has left him bitter and pissed and he has to carry it with him now.
The blood makes it worse, even though he tells himself it makes it better. He pours his frustration and pain into every kill, wrenches demons from their vessels and forgets to care about the people he can’t save, fucks Ruby in alleys and bathrooms and on dirty motel beds with the copper taste of her blood in his mouth.
He loses control and he hates himself for it.
vii. Joy
There’s an apocalyptic rainfall happening outside their window and they’ve just put another case to bed, so it seems like as good a time as any to take a day off.
They sprawl side by side on the same twin bed with a bag of Cheetos propped between them and watch an Indiana Jones marathon, screeching Indie’s lines at the screen before he has a chance to open his mouth. Sam passes Dean the last beer and Dean pops the top, takes a long drink, and passes it back. They stay like that---laughing and drinking and eating junk, until long after the rain stops.
viii. Sacrifice
The last thing he sees before he falls into the pit is his brother’s face.
He has no regrets.