SN Fic: I Am Not My Brother's Keeper (Gen, PG)
Title: I Am Not My Brother’s Keeper
Author: Rilla
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word Count: 667
Summary: “There is little to excuse myself, save this: I am not, nor was I ever, my brother’s keeper.”
A/N: A short bit of drabble that came to me after thinking biblical thoughts (literally) about the brothers. This is out of cannon, and therefore not spoilery. Thanks to
little_jen for the beta. And I'm hoping I got this in under the gun for
marishna's deathfiction challenge (I was going for #4, death by stabbing), but the jury is still out on that one.
I Am Not My Brother’s Keeper
“There is little to excuse myself, save this: I am not, nor was I ever, my brother’s keeper.
In the eyes of Our Father, Abel was the valued son. The cherished one. He protected the flock, tended the weak. His body was made strong by his work-stronger than mine. And still, he gave his strength over to loyalty and for that, Our Father favored him beyond me. His deference, always greater. His obedience, always more esteemed.
“Cain,” Abel said to me once as we wandered further from home. “Why do you struggle against Our Father?”
And I said to him back, “Abel, why do you not?”
For this he had no answer.
I do not watch the flock at night. I leave that to Abel. I work the field. The field is not nurtured by my hand alone. It depends on the sun and the rain. It is an unemotional occurrence of nature that I can study without attachment. Abel cannot help but feel a connection to his flock, and when he cannot stop a killing by the wild dogs that encircle our land, he lays the guilt of the dead lambs on his shoulders.
I do not wish for that kind of burden. I do not cry for the field scorched by the sun or drowned by the rain because the field does not cry out to me to protect it. Protection is Abel’s burden.
The night I killed Abel, he was protecting me.
The wild dogs were back and only a sacrifice of the highest order would call them off. Our Father had prepared us for this eventuality, and so in turn, we had prepared a sacrifice. I stepped forward bearing the simple fruit of my labor and laid it before the feet of Our Father. And then Abel approached, his hands sluiced in the blood of his flock’s most precious. I was aghast and knew without being told that his sacrifice was the greater.
The wild dogs accepted his offering and Our Father was pleased with him, though Abel continued to grieve for the murder on his hands. In the silence of the night that followed, he looked to me-to me-for forgiveness.
“Cain, I cannot bear it if you do not forgive me for the murder of our flock’s most precious member. It was to save us all, and still I cannot bear it if you do not forgive me.”
And I, burning with rage at the slight my offering received, did not forgive him. Instead I took up a weapon and set upon him. But Abel was stronger than I, and though he did not want to, he fought against me. My own fury fed his and I was sorely beaten down until he pinned me to the ground. His hand closed around a stone and he held it aloft, preparing to dash my brains against the dirt. But even in anger, Abel was the tender of the flock. As his eyes met mine, I saw that he could not commit murder against his own brother, though it would save his life. He saw his duty, still, to protect me.
He dropped the stone and rolled away, gasping for breath through his tears, “I cannot kill my brother. I cannot kill you, Cain.”
And for that mercy he showed me, I showed him some in return. His back was turned when I drove the spade into his body and cut him down, and so he did not have to see what he never believed could be true: Though I was the younger, and should have born the name of Abel, I wear the mark of Cain.
Abel, the elder, was indeed his brother’s keeper. But I am Cain. And I have slain Abel.
I am not, nor was I ever, my brother’s keeper.”
-- September 27, 2007
As told to Dr. Charlotte Hennessey of the Kilbourne Psychiatric Institute by Samuel Winchester, following his conviction for the murder of his brother Dean Winchester.
Author: Rilla
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word Count: 667
Summary: “There is little to excuse myself, save this: I am not, nor was I ever, my brother’s keeper.”
A/N: A short bit of drabble that came to me after thinking biblical thoughts (literally) about the brothers. This is out of cannon, and therefore not spoilery. Thanks to
little_jen for the beta. And I'm hoping I got this in under the gun for
marishna's deathfiction challenge (I was going for #4, death by stabbing), but the jury is still out on that one.
I Am Not My Brother’s Keeper
“There is little to excuse myself, save this: I am not, nor was I ever, my brother’s keeper.
In the eyes of Our Father, Abel was the valued son. The cherished one. He protected the flock, tended the weak. His body was made strong by his work-stronger than mine. And still, he gave his strength over to loyalty and for that, Our Father favored him beyond me. His deference, always greater. His obedience, always more esteemed.
“Cain,” Abel said to me once as we wandered further from home. “Why do you struggle against Our Father?”
And I said to him back, “Abel, why do you not?”
For this he had no answer.
I do not watch the flock at night. I leave that to Abel. I work the field. The field is not nurtured by my hand alone. It depends on the sun and the rain. It is an unemotional occurrence of nature that I can study without attachment. Abel cannot help but feel a connection to his flock, and when he cannot stop a killing by the wild dogs that encircle our land, he lays the guilt of the dead lambs on his shoulders.
I do not wish for that kind of burden. I do not cry for the field scorched by the sun or drowned by the rain because the field does not cry out to me to protect it. Protection is Abel’s burden.
The night I killed Abel, he was protecting me.
The wild dogs were back and only a sacrifice of the highest order would call them off. Our Father had prepared us for this eventuality, and so in turn, we had prepared a sacrifice. I stepped forward bearing the simple fruit of my labor and laid it before the feet of Our Father. And then Abel approached, his hands sluiced in the blood of his flock’s most precious. I was aghast and knew without being told that his sacrifice was the greater.
The wild dogs accepted his offering and Our Father was pleased with him, though Abel continued to grieve for the murder on his hands. In the silence of the night that followed, he looked to me-to me-for forgiveness.
“Cain, I cannot bear it if you do not forgive me for the murder of our flock’s most precious member. It was to save us all, and still I cannot bear it if you do not forgive me.”
And I, burning with rage at the slight my offering received, did not forgive him. Instead I took up a weapon and set upon him. But Abel was stronger than I, and though he did not want to, he fought against me. My own fury fed his and I was sorely beaten down until he pinned me to the ground. His hand closed around a stone and he held it aloft, preparing to dash my brains against the dirt. But even in anger, Abel was the tender of the flock. As his eyes met mine, I saw that he could not commit murder against his own brother, though it would save his life. He saw his duty, still, to protect me.
He dropped the stone and rolled away, gasping for breath through his tears, “I cannot kill my brother. I cannot kill you, Cain.”
And for that mercy he showed me, I showed him some in return. His back was turned when I drove the spade into his body and cut him down, and so he did not have to see what he never believed could be true: Though I was the younger, and should have born the name of Abel, I wear the mark of Cain.
Abel, the elder, was indeed his brother’s keeper. But I am Cain. And I have slain Abel.
I am not, nor was I ever, my brother’s keeper.”
-- September 27, 2007
As told to Dr. Charlotte Hennessey of the Kilbourne Psychiatric Institute by Samuel Winchester, following his conviction for the murder of his brother Dean Winchester.