Fic: Manifesto
Title: Manifesto
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 665
Summary: Sam isn’t capable of too many emotions anymore, but he’s capable of anger, and he’s capable of hate. One shot, tag to 6x11.
Manifesto
Sam isn’t capable of too many emotions anymore, but he’s capable of anger, and he’s capable of hate. And there’s one person Sam hates in particular.
Sam hates the way he can’t make decisions, the way every choice comes with debate and argument, and more often than not a whole lot of blubbering over moral consequences. Sam hates the way he’s so caught up in right and wrong, the way he clings to ideas of good and evil like they still mean something after everything they’ve seen.
Sam hates how fragile he is, how it’s not only knives and bullets that can slice him up, but words and actions too. Sam hates the tears that are shed in the shower or in gas station bathrooms or by the side of the road when the bruises from the weight on his shoulders suddenly push too deep. Sam hates the screams that come along with the nightmares.
Sam hates him for being broken, for being unable to put himself back together. Sam hates him for being so weak, for caring so much and trying so hard and still managing to fail. Sam hates him for relying on others, for needing their approval and their advice before doing anything on his own.
Sam hates his desperation, his disappointment, his sacrifices, his pain, his fierce and all-consuming love.
Sam would get rid of him, if he could. Sneak up on him one of those times he all too frequently drops his guard. Slit his vulnerable throat, drain his too-passionate blood. Burn the body like a victory, scatter the aches like a warning. Here lies a man who never got what he wanted, and never learned to stop trying or to want something else.
Sam hates that even murder probably wouldn’t stop him. Sam hates that death is just one more thing he can’t accept, that cheating it is just one more way he rises no matter how many times the world knocks him down. Sam hates that he thinks life still has some special meaning.
Sam hates that he still has hope.
Sam hates the way he won’t abandon his brother, even when their lives have gone to shit and they’ve got nothing left to lose. Sam hates the way that devotion is still affecting his life, even now.
Sam hates the man who jumped into the pit with Lucifer inside him.
Sam hates having his memories, the little dying ghosts of his emotions. Sam hates knowing what it felt like to lose so much and be hurt so hard. Sam hates still being tied to some of his habits, to caring about the neatness of his computer desktop, to never being able to hook-up with a blonde, to feeling more relaxed when he watches his brother sleep.
Dean wants to bring that man back to life. To bundle up all that misery and failure and shove it inside Sam’s body. To take away Sam’s reasoning and skills and replace them with confusion and vulnerability.
But Sam isn’t going to let him.
He isn’t going back to being someone who knows the anniversaries of the death of everyone he’s loved, and usually celebrates them with a bottle of hard liquor and the cold steel of a gun turned over and over in his hand. He isn’t going back to feeling guilty with every breath he takes, or feeling ashamed every time he looks in a mirror, or feeling afraid every time he closes his eyes. He isn’t going back to being sickened by the bodies of innocents, being crushed by the weight of his conscience, feeling his heart stop every time he catches sight of his brother’s blood.
Dean wants to resurrect his little brother with all his faults and all his weaknesses. But Sam won’t allow it. He’s going to make sure the man he used to be goes on burning in Hell, right where he belongs.
***
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 665
Summary: Sam isn’t capable of too many emotions anymore, but he’s capable of anger, and he’s capable of hate. One shot, tag to 6x11.
Manifesto
Sam isn’t capable of too many emotions anymore, but he’s capable of anger, and he’s capable of hate. And there’s one person Sam hates in particular.
Sam hates the way he can’t make decisions, the way every choice comes with debate and argument, and more often than not a whole lot of blubbering over moral consequences. Sam hates the way he’s so caught up in right and wrong, the way he clings to ideas of good and evil like they still mean something after everything they’ve seen.
Sam hates how fragile he is, how it’s not only knives and bullets that can slice him up, but words and actions too. Sam hates the tears that are shed in the shower or in gas station bathrooms or by the side of the road when the bruises from the weight on his shoulders suddenly push too deep. Sam hates the screams that come along with the nightmares.
Sam hates him for being broken, for being unable to put himself back together. Sam hates him for being so weak, for caring so much and trying so hard and still managing to fail. Sam hates him for relying on others, for needing their approval and their advice before doing anything on his own.
Sam hates his desperation, his disappointment, his sacrifices, his pain, his fierce and all-consuming love.
Sam would get rid of him, if he could. Sneak up on him one of those times he all too frequently drops his guard. Slit his vulnerable throat, drain his too-passionate blood. Burn the body like a victory, scatter the aches like a warning. Here lies a man who never got what he wanted, and never learned to stop trying or to want something else.
Sam hates that even murder probably wouldn’t stop him. Sam hates that death is just one more thing he can’t accept, that cheating it is just one more way he rises no matter how many times the world knocks him down. Sam hates that he thinks life still has some special meaning.
Sam hates that he still has hope.
Sam hates the way he won’t abandon his brother, even when their lives have gone to shit and they’ve got nothing left to lose. Sam hates the way that devotion is still affecting his life, even now.
Sam hates the man who jumped into the pit with Lucifer inside him.
Sam hates having his memories, the little dying ghosts of his emotions. Sam hates knowing what it felt like to lose so much and be hurt so hard. Sam hates still being tied to some of his habits, to caring about the neatness of his computer desktop, to never being able to hook-up with a blonde, to feeling more relaxed when he watches his brother sleep.
Dean wants to bring that man back to life. To bundle up all that misery and failure and shove it inside Sam’s body. To take away Sam’s reasoning and skills and replace them with confusion and vulnerability.
But Sam isn’t going to let him.
He isn’t going back to being someone who knows the anniversaries of the death of everyone he’s loved, and usually celebrates them with a bottle of hard liquor and the cold steel of a gun turned over and over in his hand. He isn’t going back to feeling guilty with every breath he takes, or feeling ashamed every time he looks in a mirror, or feeling afraid every time he closes his eyes. He isn’t going back to being sickened by the bodies of innocents, being crushed by the weight of his conscience, feeling his heart stop every time he catches sight of his brother’s blood.
Dean wants to resurrect his little brother with all his faults and all his weaknesses. But Sam won’t allow it. He’s going to make sure the man he used to be goes on burning in Hell, right where he belongs.
***