SPN - The Binds That Tie [PG-13]
Title: The Binds That Tie
Author: pdxscaper
Fandom: Supernatural
Category: Gen, Dean, Sam
Words: 546
Rating: PG-13
Season/Spoilers: S2, up through Playthings.
Warnings: Adult language, allusions to violence.
Disclaimer: Am not, never have been, affiliated with Warner Brothers, Wonderland Sound and Vision, etc. Characters are so not mine, they're Kripke's, et al. No copyright infringement is intended, no money is being made. I just couldn't help myself.
A/N: Thanks so much to scrubschick and chicklet25 for the read through; I really do appreciate your comments. All the credit for the kickass title goes to scrubschick. Sometimes I'm way too literal and have a hard time thinking outside the box. Thanks!
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The Binds That Tie
"Yeah, Sam, I know what I promised. Keep it up and I really will kill you. Hear me?"
"You said the words, man."
Dean nods, considering. He's quiet as he walks over to the sink, rests a hand on each side of the chipped basin, and looks at himself in the dusty, speckled mirror. Yeah, he'd said them, but he'd have agreed the world was flat just to shut Sam up at that point. Even so, he knows he can never take them back.
Right now, it's late, he's tired, and the only thing he really wants is to crawl into bed and sleep like a zombie on Quaaludes for a few hours, but the kid just won't let it go.
"So, how do you want me to do it, Sammy?"
Sam looks up from the laptop screen, sputters, "What the fu-?"
"How? It's a simple question, short, to the point." There's more than a little snark in his voice as he turns, folds his arms across his chest, and leans against the sink, crossing his legs at the ankle. "How? I mean really, you think a shot to the head or an arrow through your heart would work for you? You want me to snap your neck? Slit your throat? Be over quick with either of those. Or let's see, I could just bash your brains in, drown you, or there's always..."
Sam hiccups a sound halfway between a sob and a growl, and Dean can't bring himself to go on or to look his brother in the eye.
"Hey, you keep harpin' on me about my promise. Just tryin' to prepare, little brother." A quick glance confirms what he thought he'd see-the kid swiping furiously at the tears, not wanting to get caught with them on his face.
"You don't have to be such a dick."
"Me? Oh, that's rich. You make me promise to kill you and I'm the dick."
"Dad's the one who-" Sam says as if that's going to make Dean straighten up and fly right.
"Yeah, and like I said the other day, Dad's not here so why would I-."
"I just don't want to hurt anyone. I don't think I could live with myself if I-"
Any other time Dean would be telling Sam that he doesn't need to worry about that, he's just not wired that way, but this time the words won't come. Instead, he shakes his head. "But, it's okay if I do."
"It's not the same and you know it."
"Oh, I know it," he says, his voice low and gravelly, and he has to clear his throat. He knows he should shut up, but the words tumble out before he can lock them down. "So, what, Sammy? After I off you I salt your bones and burn you?"
"Jesus, Dean, just stop."
"And then? I'm just supposed to go on my merry-fucking-way?"
Sam's face twists again; this time he doesn't try to hide the tears. His voice, when he finds it, is soft and tired and thick with despair, "No. God, Dean, I don't know."
"Well, I know." Finally, he manages to stop the words from spilling out into the space between them.
And then I take a gun and put a bullet through my own brain because what do I have left?
End
Author: pdxscaper
Fandom: Supernatural
Category: Gen, Dean, Sam
Words: 546
Rating: PG-13
Season/Spoilers: S2, up through Playthings.
Warnings: Adult language, allusions to violence.
Disclaimer: Am not, never have been, affiliated with Warner Brothers, Wonderland Sound and Vision, etc. Characters are so not mine, they're Kripke's, et al. No copyright infringement is intended, no money is being made. I just couldn't help myself.
A/N: Thanks so much to scrubschick and chicklet25 for the read through; I really do appreciate your comments. All the credit for the kickass title goes to scrubschick. Sometimes I'm way too literal and have a hard time thinking outside the box. Thanks!
+++||+++
The Binds That Tie
"Yeah, Sam, I know what I promised. Keep it up and I really will kill you. Hear me?"
"You said the words, man."
Dean nods, considering. He's quiet as he walks over to the sink, rests a hand on each side of the chipped basin, and looks at himself in the dusty, speckled mirror. Yeah, he'd said them, but he'd have agreed the world was flat just to shut Sam up at that point. Even so, he knows he can never take them back.
Right now, it's late, he's tired, and the only thing he really wants is to crawl into bed and sleep like a zombie on Quaaludes for a few hours, but the kid just won't let it go.
"So, how do you want me to do it, Sammy?"
Sam looks up from the laptop screen, sputters, "What the fu-?"
"How? It's a simple question, short, to the point." There's more than a little snark in his voice as he turns, folds his arms across his chest, and leans against the sink, crossing his legs at the ankle. "How? I mean really, you think a shot to the head or an arrow through your heart would work for you? You want me to snap your neck? Slit your throat? Be over quick with either of those. Or let's see, I could just bash your brains in, drown you, or there's always..."
Sam hiccups a sound halfway between a sob and a growl, and Dean can't bring himself to go on or to look his brother in the eye.
"Hey, you keep harpin' on me about my promise. Just tryin' to prepare, little brother." A quick glance confirms what he thought he'd see-the kid swiping furiously at the tears, not wanting to get caught with them on his face.
"You don't have to be such a dick."
"Me? Oh, that's rich. You make me promise to kill you and I'm the dick."
"Dad's the one who-" Sam says as if that's going to make Dean straighten up and fly right.
"Yeah, and like I said the other day, Dad's not here so why would I-."
"I just don't want to hurt anyone. I don't think I could live with myself if I-"
Any other time Dean would be telling Sam that he doesn't need to worry about that, he's just not wired that way, but this time the words won't come. Instead, he shakes his head. "But, it's okay if I do."
"It's not the same and you know it."
"Oh, I know it," he says, his voice low and gravelly, and he has to clear his throat. He knows he should shut up, but the words tumble out before he can lock them down. "So, what, Sammy? After I off you I salt your bones and burn you?"
"Jesus, Dean, just stop."
"And then? I'm just supposed to go on my merry-fucking-way?"
Sam's face twists again; this time he doesn't try to hide the tears. His voice, when he finds it, is soft and tired and thick with despair, "No. God, Dean, I don't know."
"Well, I know." Finally, he manages to stop the words from spilling out into the space between them.
And then I take a gun and put a bullet through my own brain because what do I have left?
End