i. you're nothing without your father — a truth that's been tattooed onto your skinbonesbrain from the day you stumbledshoved from the burning husk of childhood, a truth as constant as the rattling of green army men in the vents of the impala. scents of sweat and gunpowder hug you the way he never did. you think the embrace of his leather jacket is a good enough imitation, but you never had the guts to even hope for any affection. (you're a damn coward, dean, can't even ask your old man for a pat on the back, but you'd covet a drunken punch to the jaw and caress the deliberate finger-shaped bruises on your upper arm.)
ii. your brother is stuffed overfull with righteous anger. younger siblings, trailblazers, ones in your shadow who feel most constricted by the chains you've come to treat as an extention of yourself. you don't feel anything but resignation and the quiet ember of desperate wishing that one day he might look at you with anything but anger. it didn't happen when you shot that pregnant shapeshifter in the head, it didn't happen when you set fire to that family of werewolves, but it just might if you can stop sam from leaving.
iii. you can't stop sam from leaving. (you can't do anything right, can you, dean?)
iv. you aren't sure if you tried your hardest to tie him to you. deep down, you think he doesn't deserve to be tangled in the sin of the winchester family, not like you. your entrails are inextricably knotted with your father's machete and pistol. machineboy, weaponboy, but never sonboy. you barely feel humanboy sometimes, letting yourself finger the hem of a girl's skirt in portland but jolting away when a boy with electric blue eyes touches your hand in pontiac. sir's eyes are everywhere.
v. you're a grown man now, as he would say, a real man. the scars on your hands and the hardness of your biceps tell that, it's true. maybe he wouldn't say that if he saw your soft fleshy insides and repressed yearning, but you've learnt to hide it. the rings on your fingers click against the metal of your gun. a daddy's boy through and through.
- a tragedy in five parts // rk



















