if it would kill me:
title. Fata Morgana (The Price of My Soul)
word count. 1842
rating. R. sam/dean.
disclaimer. if they were mine, i'd keep them jollygood happy, hopped up on sugar and forever in prank war mode.
spoiler. 2.22
summary. He was your brother. He will always be your brother. You’ll remember that. He won’t.
a/n. inspired by Please Remind Me and Do Remember. feedbacks would be loved.
Fata Morgana (The Price of My Soul)
You’ll remember the first feel of his tiny hand slipping into your own. You couldn’t have been older than six. For the first time Sammy wanted to hold your hand as he trudged around on his chubby feet instead of Dad’s. He looked up at you with warm, bright hazel eyes and smiled, cheeks dimpled. Dad smiled at the two of you and your childish, naïve soul told you that maybe it was enough for him. That he was alive, with his two babies with him. Deep down inside you, you always knew that wasn’t true.
You’ll remember the first feel of his hand slipping into your own. You’ll never remember the feel of his large hand covering yours, his grown up eyes looking into your own with something more than affection. You’ll never remember the feel of those hands warm against your bare skin, stroking.
Neither of you will.
These days you watch him from afar. These days you only get to hear his voice, faint, even when you’re near. These days he doesn’t talk to you. These days he doesn’t even look at you. Of course, you wouldn’t know because you look away when you think you’ve looked long enough. There’s a theory that if you look at someone hard enough, he’ll turn around and see you. You wouldn’t want that. He smiles at people, those he doesn’t even know, when their eyes meet. It would be too painful. His smile would be empty.
You’ll remember the first time you laid eyes on him. Mom was in the bed, hair scraggly and damp but still so beautiful. Sammy was in her arms, pink and wrinkly and yet was the most astounding sight you’ve ever seen. You’ll remember the first time you think you love him. Dad left you two with Pastor Jim and Sammy had woken up shouting, his little boy’s voice loaded down with terror. It was hoarse as he asked you where Dad was, as you shushed him down and told him it will all be okay, that you’re there for him, as he told you that he dreamt of horrible things. You held him in your arms, tight, just to feel his heartbeat slowing down against your ribs. You felt it then, how strongly you wanted to protect him. He was your brother. He will always be your brother. You’ll remember that. He won’t.
You’ll remember the first time you see him. Really see him. Dad was again away but this time he left you two alone at home, you were deemed old enough to look after Sammy ten years ago. He turned fifteen three months ago and had tried to kiss you after a few bottles of beer. You pushed him away and laughed, muttered you’re drunk, Sammy. You’re drunk and carried his weight before throwing him onto his bed, barely long enough to fit his lanky frame. You slept on the couch that night, trying not to think about how bright his smile had been and how when you’re pushing him away what you really wanted was to tug him closer and chase away that grin of his with your tongue. You’ll remember that night in August because it was the first time your cock hardened at the sight of your kid brother walking out of the bathroom dripping wet, a tiny, threadbare towel slung low on his lean hips, miles of smooth skin looking so silken to touch.
You’ll remember the night you left him at home, studying for a stupid test and went out to get some beer and ended up with a brunette yanking on your cock, her top discarded on the backseat somewhere underneath you and all you could think about was Sammy’s hazel eyes and Sammy’s pink lips and Sammy’s dimply grin and Sammy’s hair as you tugged at the girl’s curls and came, stifling a whimper that sounded so much like his name. You dropped her off where you met her and promised you would call her when you’re in town again which would be never because you were certain Dad was going to move you again once Sammy was done with his test and you drove off, stopped in the middle of nowhere. The air was stuffy and there was a musty smell somewhere ahead of you as you knelt on the dank ground and threw up, your stomach heaving, your little brother’s smile behind your eyelids.
You’ll remember hating the way you’re feeling for him. This was your brother. You used to carry him in your arms when you walked down the beach because he didn’t like the feel of sand between his toes. You used to feed him baby food from tiny baby bowls. You used to sing him songs while you watched him took his bath because he hated being alone in the water. You used to tuck him in for sleep, humming under your breath as he clung to you underneath the covers. What you felt, strong as it might be, was wrong.
You’ll remember the way you jerk off to the many images of him over the years, nothing but want and remorse in your chest. You’ll never remember the way he touches you just like you want him to, kisses you warm and slow on chilly nights, his beautiful skin sliding across yours. Neither of you will.
Neither of you will remember how it feels like calling out each other’s names when you climax. Neither of you will remember basking in the afterglow of something so wrong it feels so right. Neither of you will remember what it feels like to have something you both really wanted realized by someone you both really loved.
Neither of you will remember because no such thing has ever happened.
You’ll remember how warm it was when you placed your palm on his back, your hand coming back red and wet with his blood. You’ll remember how his eyes rolled back into his skull, his dead weight slumping against your chest as you held him and cried out in anguish, screaming his name and the I love you stale on your tongue. You’ll remember carrying his body to the car, ignoring Bobby when he called for you with his calming tone and sympathy dripping in his voice. You’ll remember how you laid him on the backseat, just like when he was a kid and Dad had been driving for hours and hours and he had fallen asleep reading a book you snaked for him from the local library of the town you last stopped at. You’ll remember pushing away hair off his forehead like you did when he used to fall asleep on your lap when you’re traveling and pulling away quickly, before the cold registered.
You’ll remember feeling like a whole part of you died.
You’ll remember thinking nothing was worth living because the only purpose of your life was gone. You’ll remember thinking that you would die to have him back, that you would trade anything for him to be alive, that you want nothing more than your baby brother back. You’ll remember summoning the demon, her breath on your cheek, her eyes skinning you. You were certain she could bring him back, underestimating the evil and lust for vengeance she had in her, blinded by your own desperation. She gave you a year. You had never forgotten how hurtful it was finding out what Dad had done for you. You had never wished for that to happen to Sammy. So you made a deal.
You’ll remember her tongue in your mouth, swiping slow but greedy. You’ll remember the feeling of your soul slipping from you, along with her into the night.
It is May. Sammy’s birthday. He looks healthy, smile wide and warm as he strolls down the sidewalk, a cup of coffee in his hand and a tall, blonde girl on his side. You duck your head when they walk past, his head dipped down as he kisses her, dimple pressing in his left cheek. You feel a knife twisting in your chest as he brushes against you, smelling like Sammy, like home.
You’ll remember the day he left for Stanford. You’ll remember coming home half drunk and seeing him perched on the front steps, his duffel and backpack by his side, his expression blank. You’ll remember offering him a ride with your gravelly voice and he didn’t even mention about how you deprived yourselves of a last night spent together. You didn’t know whether to say sorry. You’ll remember the silence during your drive to the bus station, how he had his temple pressed against the window, hair in his eyes, face so young yet so troubled. You reached out and jabbed between his ribs, jolted him into a grin. Jerk, he muttered, smiling at you with his dimples flashing and eyes bright. You returned your eyes to the road, storing the memory deep inside you as if it would be the last you saw of him. Bitch, you muttered back, thinking how you would be able to survive without Sammy’s smile. The same smile he gave you his entire life, always meaningful. Always meaning you’re my big brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.
You’ll remember Sammy hesitating to hug you, his eyes already wet. You reached up and pat his cheek and he grinned, slipping a long arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. You kept count of his heartbeat, steady against your own. Without thinking, you slipped one black bracelet from your wrist and slipped Sammy’s hand through it. He smiled, a little sadly now, ducked his head and slid the black leather cord off his neck. You’ll remember his warm hands slipping the cord around your neck, the amulet heavy against your sternum. He grabbed you for the last time, exhaling against your neck, his tears warm on your shoulder, whispering thank you, Dean.
You’ll remember how you clutched the amulet every time you thought of him, never taking it off for fear of losing a part of you. You’ll remember the thrum of his pulse as you slipped your bracelet on him.
He wears the bracelet, still, as he walks towards you that day in May. You clutch the amulet, watching and knowing how you’ll never feel his breath on your neck again, his tears on your shoulder, his voice saying your name. He walks with the swagger you both worked on the summer he was fourteen, his shoulder bumping into yours. The amulet he left with you knocks against your chest and suddenly it hurts so badly. He smiles politely, apologizing without words. His smile is empty. It doesn’t carry the meaning it used to.
As you inhaled the air, taking in his smell, you count down the days you have left.
You’ll remember the deal you made. Bring Sammy back, give me a year and make him never remember me.
You’ll remember what had cost you your soul. You’ll never regret it.
word count. 1842
rating. R. sam/dean.
disclaimer. if they were mine, i'd keep them jollygood happy, hopped up on sugar and forever in prank war mode.
spoiler. 2.22
summary. He was your brother. He will always be your brother. You’ll remember that. He won’t.
a/n. inspired by Please Remind Me and Do Remember. feedbacks would be loved.
Fata Morgana (The Price of My Soul)
You’ll remember the first feel of his tiny hand slipping into your own. You couldn’t have been older than six. For the first time Sammy wanted to hold your hand as he trudged around on his chubby feet instead of Dad’s. He looked up at you with warm, bright hazel eyes and smiled, cheeks dimpled. Dad smiled at the two of you and your childish, naïve soul told you that maybe it was enough for him. That he was alive, with his two babies with him. Deep down inside you, you always knew that wasn’t true.
You’ll remember the first feel of his hand slipping into your own. You’ll never remember the feel of his large hand covering yours, his grown up eyes looking into your own with something more than affection. You’ll never remember the feel of those hands warm against your bare skin, stroking.
Neither of you will.
These days you watch him from afar. These days you only get to hear his voice, faint, even when you’re near. These days he doesn’t talk to you. These days he doesn’t even look at you. Of course, you wouldn’t know because you look away when you think you’ve looked long enough. There’s a theory that if you look at someone hard enough, he’ll turn around and see you. You wouldn’t want that. He smiles at people, those he doesn’t even know, when their eyes meet. It would be too painful. His smile would be empty.
You’ll remember the first time you laid eyes on him. Mom was in the bed, hair scraggly and damp but still so beautiful. Sammy was in her arms, pink and wrinkly and yet was the most astounding sight you’ve ever seen. You’ll remember the first time you think you love him. Dad left you two with Pastor Jim and Sammy had woken up shouting, his little boy’s voice loaded down with terror. It was hoarse as he asked you where Dad was, as you shushed him down and told him it will all be okay, that you’re there for him, as he told you that he dreamt of horrible things. You held him in your arms, tight, just to feel his heartbeat slowing down against your ribs. You felt it then, how strongly you wanted to protect him. He was your brother. He will always be your brother. You’ll remember that. He won’t.
You’ll remember the first time you see him. Really see him. Dad was again away but this time he left you two alone at home, you were deemed old enough to look after Sammy ten years ago. He turned fifteen three months ago and had tried to kiss you after a few bottles of beer. You pushed him away and laughed, muttered you’re drunk, Sammy. You’re drunk and carried his weight before throwing him onto his bed, barely long enough to fit his lanky frame. You slept on the couch that night, trying not to think about how bright his smile had been and how when you’re pushing him away what you really wanted was to tug him closer and chase away that grin of his with your tongue. You’ll remember that night in August because it was the first time your cock hardened at the sight of your kid brother walking out of the bathroom dripping wet, a tiny, threadbare towel slung low on his lean hips, miles of smooth skin looking so silken to touch.
You’ll remember the night you left him at home, studying for a stupid test and went out to get some beer and ended up with a brunette yanking on your cock, her top discarded on the backseat somewhere underneath you and all you could think about was Sammy’s hazel eyes and Sammy’s pink lips and Sammy’s dimply grin and Sammy’s hair as you tugged at the girl’s curls and came, stifling a whimper that sounded so much like his name. You dropped her off where you met her and promised you would call her when you’re in town again which would be never because you were certain Dad was going to move you again once Sammy was done with his test and you drove off, stopped in the middle of nowhere. The air was stuffy and there was a musty smell somewhere ahead of you as you knelt on the dank ground and threw up, your stomach heaving, your little brother’s smile behind your eyelids.
You’ll remember hating the way you’re feeling for him. This was your brother. You used to carry him in your arms when you walked down the beach because he didn’t like the feel of sand between his toes. You used to feed him baby food from tiny baby bowls. You used to sing him songs while you watched him took his bath because he hated being alone in the water. You used to tuck him in for sleep, humming under your breath as he clung to you underneath the covers. What you felt, strong as it might be, was wrong.
You’ll remember the way you jerk off to the many images of him over the years, nothing but want and remorse in your chest. You’ll never remember the way he touches you just like you want him to, kisses you warm and slow on chilly nights, his beautiful skin sliding across yours. Neither of you will.
Neither of you will remember how it feels like calling out each other’s names when you climax. Neither of you will remember basking in the afterglow of something so wrong it feels so right. Neither of you will remember what it feels like to have something you both really wanted realized by someone you both really loved.
Neither of you will remember because no such thing has ever happened.
You’ll remember how warm it was when you placed your palm on his back, your hand coming back red and wet with his blood. You’ll remember how his eyes rolled back into his skull, his dead weight slumping against your chest as you held him and cried out in anguish, screaming his name and the I love you stale on your tongue. You’ll remember carrying his body to the car, ignoring Bobby when he called for you with his calming tone and sympathy dripping in his voice. You’ll remember how you laid him on the backseat, just like when he was a kid and Dad had been driving for hours and hours and he had fallen asleep reading a book you snaked for him from the local library of the town you last stopped at. You’ll remember pushing away hair off his forehead like you did when he used to fall asleep on your lap when you’re traveling and pulling away quickly, before the cold registered.
You’ll remember feeling like a whole part of you died.
You’ll remember thinking nothing was worth living because the only purpose of your life was gone. You’ll remember thinking that you would die to have him back, that you would trade anything for him to be alive, that you want nothing more than your baby brother back. You’ll remember summoning the demon, her breath on your cheek, her eyes skinning you. You were certain she could bring him back, underestimating the evil and lust for vengeance she had in her, blinded by your own desperation. She gave you a year. You had never forgotten how hurtful it was finding out what Dad had done for you. You had never wished for that to happen to Sammy. So you made a deal.
You’ll remember her tongue in your mouth, swiping slow but greedy. You’ll remember the feeling of your soul slipping from you, along with her into the night.
It is May. Sammy’s birthday. He looks healthy, smile wide and warm as he strolls down the sidewalk, a cup of coffee in his hand and a tall, blonde girl on his side. You duck your head when they walk past, his head dipped down as he kisses her, dimple pressing in his left cheek. You feel a knife twisting in your chest as he brushes against you, smelling like Sammy, like home.
You’ll remember the day he left for Stanford. You’ll remember coming home half drunk and seeing him perched on the front steps, his duffel and backpack by his side, his expression blank. You’ll remember offering him a ride with your gravelly voice and he didn’t even mention about how you deprived yourselves of a last night spent together. You didn’t know whether to say sorry. You’ll remember the silence during your drive to the bus station, how he had his temple pressed against the window, hair in his eyes, face so young yet so troubled. You reached out and jabbed between his ribs, jolted him into a grin. Jerk, he muttered, smiling at you with his dimples flashing and eyes bright. You returned your eyes to the road, storing the memory deep inside you as if it would be the last you saw of him. Bitch, you muttered back, thinking how you would be able to survive without Sammy’s smile. The same smile he gave you his entire life, always meaningful. Always meaning you’re my big brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.
You’ll remember Sammy hesitating to hug you, his eyes already wet. You reached up and pat his cheek and he grinned, slipping a long arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. You kept count of his heartbeat, steady against your own. Without thinking, you slipped one black bracelet from your wrist and slipped Sammy’s hand through it. He smiled, a little sadly now, ducked his head and slid the black leather cord off his neck. You’ll remember his warm hands slipping the cord around your neck, the amulet heavy against your sternum. He grabbed you for the last time, exhaling against your neck, his tears warm on your shoulder, whispering thank you, Dean.
You’ll remember how you clutched the amulet every time you thought of him, never taking it off for fear of losing a part of you. You’ll remember the thrum of his pulse as you slipped your bracelet on him.
He wears the bracelet, still, as he walks towards you that day in May. You clutch the amulet, watching and knowing how you’ll never feel his breath on your neck again, his tears on your shoulder, his voice saying your name. He walks with the swagger you both worked on the summer he was fourteen, his shoulder bumping into yours. The amulet he left with you knocks against your chest and suddenly it hurts so badly. He smiles politely, apologizing without words. His smile is empty. It doesn’t carry the meaning it used to.
As you inhaled the air, taking in his smell, you count down the days you have left.
You’ll remember the deal you made. Bring Sammy back, give me a year and make him never remember me.
You’ll remember what had cost you your soul. You’ll never regret it.