Title: Every breath you take
Title: Every breath you take
Author: missyjack
Rating: PG-13
Genre: gen, Sam-centric
Words: 1319
Disclaimer: Me own the Winchesters? In my sweet sweet dreams.
Summary: These two things are canon: Dean gets thrown into walls on a regular basis and Sam gets choked a lot. I wrote about Dean and walls in If walls could talk. So I figured I should write one some of the times Sam got choked during his life.
A/N: Sammy’s giant ball of angst is a registered trademark of
moonythestrals. (well if it isn’t it should be).
This story will shortly be available with added Wincest.
Sam was six months old when he first experienced the sensation of not being able to breathe. Until that moment, Sammy’s life was pretty good. His mother sang to him and smelt good and whispered secrets to him. Sam drank warm milk from her soft breasts and got rocked to sleep. He hardly ever had to let her know when he needed something and when he did, because he was hot or wet, she responded quickly and gently with loving words. Sam found ways of letting her know he loved her, with gurgles and smiles and by squinting his eyes, all of which got her to make her happy face. He’d been working on sounds, which she seemed to like the best. He went to sleep one night deciding to try out his new sound on her tomorrow. The next time he saw her, she was looking down on him. He was hot and smoke tickled his nose. He tried to give her the present of his new sound. But suddenly he was picked up, wrapped in his blanket and taken outside. He never saw her again, and he choked on the two syllables that stuck in his throat.
Mama.
&&&&&&
Dean knew you could never be too careful. Dad had taught him to always lay the salt lines at the doors and windows, keep his amulet on and keep shooting until you ran out of bullets. But he had another protection that was all his own idea. Dad had read to him about the different things people used here and in far away places to stop evil. Then Dean had found them, gathered all together in a box with a picture of a little dude in green on the front - who come to think of it looked a bit like Sammy. There were stars and clovers and moons and rainbows. So he figured eating Lucky Charms must help protect you from the inside, and any way they tasted way great. But while Dean knew it was his job to protect his little brother inside and out, Sammy seemed to get more than his fair share of Lucky Charms protection. It was always a bit of a race between them to get the last bowl from a pack.
One day Dean had slept late because he’d been upmost of the night in case Dad came home. When he wandered out to the kitchen, Sammy looked up and started scoffing the mountain of cereal in his bowl. He looked over at Dean with a multi-coloured cheeky grin, his eyes wide. And then his eyes got wider and he lifted a hand to his throat. Dean was about to employ one of his pet names like butthead or skunk breath when he realized Sam wasn’t mucking around. Dean rushed over and started slapping Sam hard on the back. As Sammy’s face went red, he turned his face to Dean, his eyes pleading. Dean hit Sam as hard as he could and suddenly a gooey slaggy mess was expelled from Sam’s throat. The two of them slumped to the floor, both breathing heavily.
Dean bought Froot Loops after that.
&&&&&&
As Sam got older he learnt that your family can suffocate you.
The argument had been going for over an hour. Sam and John paced around the room, around each other. The air was thick with words usually left unsaid, better left unsaid. Dean sat staring out the window, flicking his Zippo open and closed.
“Its just college.”
“You could just walk out on us Sam; leave your brother and me?”
“Don’t you want me to have a normal life?”
“After all I’ve taught you Sam? You’ve got valuable skills and you’re part of this fight.”
“Shit Dad, I am not your grunt! I am sick of playing soldier in your damn ghost war!”
“You think you can just turn your back on what we do, knowing people might die? Knowing that what killed your mother is still out there?”
“Don’t you fucking…You bastard. That’s not fucking fair!”
“Watch your mouth Sam.”
“Why? What are you going to do? Ground me? I’m not asking your permission to go Dad. I’m telling you what I’m going to do. Dean, haven’t you got anything to say? Not like you not to want to tell me what you think.”
“What do you want me to say Sam? You obviously don’t care what I think. If you did you might have mentioned this college thing, you know, more than a couple of hours before you leave.”
“Look I need to do this. Staying here it’s, it’s just not what I want. Can’t you understand?”
“Sam, you leave us now fine. Go to college, do what you want. But don’t think you can come back. You leave you now are out of this for good.”
Rage and self-pity constricted Sam’s throat. He held his father’s gaze as he struggled for air. He waited for his father to help him, to say something so he could breathe again. He looked to Dean, who refused to meet his eyes. When John remained silent, Sam left. It was only when he was outside that he gasped in a chestful of air. And another. Until he was breathing deeply in a series of ragged sobs.
&&&&&&
After Sam had known Jess for five months he nearly choked on I love you. It stuck in his throat like a fish bone that he could neither cough up nor swallow. He knew how he felt, knew the words were true, was even pretty sure Jess would give them a good home. But he felt a sense of foreboding that he couldn’t shake and couldn’t convince himself was first love nerves. Finally, as they sat watching some documentary about yaks on the Discovery Channel, Jess kissed him and said “I love you Sam”. “I love you too Jess” said Sam, the words coming free but not the sense that one of them would regret this.
&&&&&&
Sam was nearly strangled by irony, in his old house in Lawrence. Well, truth be told it was a lamp cord possessed by a poltergeist, but as it choked the life out of him he was struck by the irony of dying while trying to save people in the same house he had nearly died in 20 years ago. Lack of oxygen soon banished that thought as his fingers clawed uselessly at the cord around his throat. His world went grey and then dark
until a rush of air filled his lungs, and he felt arms holding him and another chest breathing alongside his.
&&&&&&
“You mean, why’d I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, I never told you this, but Sam was gonna ask her to marry him. Been shoppin’ for rings and everything. You wanna know why? Because they got in the way.”
“In the way of what? “
“My plans for you, Sammy-you….and all the children like you.”
Sam couldn’t move. He was pinned to the wall opposite Dean, while the demon used their father. It was his entire fault, all this. Mom, Jess, Dad, Dean. He’d never understood that Dad and Dean were fighting not just to kill something but to save him. As he watched his brother plead for his life, blood pouring through invisible wound, guilt crushed Sam’s chest and he struggled to call out Dean’s name. Suddenly he was released from the wall and he grabbed the Colt. His father and Dean lay on the floor. He had both these men to thank for every breath he’d taken over the past 21 years. He had to save them.
&&&&&&
A poltergeist, a demon and a giant ball of angst walk into a bar. They sit down, next to a rather fetching lamp, have a few drinks and talk about the times they choked Sam Winchester.