your angels speak with jilted tongues

Title: your angels speak with jilted tongues
Author: Vesper (Regina)
Warnings: Some (very brief) imagery may be triggery for self-harm.
Category: Angst
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Summary: Co-dependency isn't very healthy, especially when you throw destiny in the mix. 382 words.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Archival: If you wish to archive, please link to my website. Please keep all my headers intact.
Notes: Title from "Ice" by Sarah McLachlan. Lyl gave me the opening line. The woman's identity is unknown--she could be an angel, or a demon, or an oracle--however you wish to see her. Betaed by the wonderful aforesaid Lyl.

The truth is a big, pink elephant sitting next to you in the car, driving on the way to nowhere.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything."

He doesn't shift his eyes away. Dean's eyes flick from the road to him a couple of times, unsure.

He says after a long pause, but not too long, "I'm gonna get some shut-eye."

Dean's fingers tighten around the vinyl of the steering wheel, as he says,"All right."

It's not, even so. He shuts his eyes, and leans back.

A big, pink elephant. Try not to think about it and it's there. Try to deny it and it sits on your couch and breaks it in half.

He thinks it over. Worries at it like a pimple, like a scab, until it oozes.

Too many things make sense now. Why they are brothers, why they can't let each other go, and why it so often turns sour.

I don't believe what you're saying.

You mean you don't want to. Listen, Sam, I've seen it so many times before. You and your brother. You're brothers now. That doesn't mean you were before.

Just shut up!

Just a smirk and twist of the eyes and he slams his fist in her face.

She doesn't bleed or flinch. Doesn't reach up and feel.

Shut up, he says again, but his voice is full of loss.

So you know, Sam. This will go down like it always has. Like snakes twisting together. You and the one you call Dean, but that hasn't always been his name and he hasn't always been he. Those limitations don't matter.

They do, he protests.

Not with you and him.

This is sick.

That's the point, Sam.

Her eyes are gentle and full of pity and he turns away. Her voice caresses, like the edge of a razor before feeling the sting, I love the way humans think, with your metaphors and your similes and your words. The elephant in the room. Have you heard that, Sam? It's so clever. So quaint. Something is there. Something big. Something you'll never tell him, will you.

She laughs at him when he leaves.

He jumps when Dean touches his shoulder. "Stopping to get gas," he says.

Sam swallows and rolls down the window. "Take your time," he says.

End.