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franklespine · 5 months

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Lucifer telling Sam "you've gone soft" in 11.10 is soooooooooooooooo...

Yes it's all a manipulation tactic, but Lucifer walking Sam through his memories, things that seem a lifetime ago, saying this is how you were before: bold and decisive - this is the Sam that saved the world, this isn't you anymore - when Lucifer is the reason why Sam is the way he is now. Insane. There are rare moments of gold in supernatural and one of them is when they play on the psychological horror in the fact that Lucifer; his torturer, tormentor, abuser and other half of his soul is the one that knows him best. He knows how powerless Sam feels - now that he's got lifetimes of trauma from the Cage that have skinned and flayed him on every level. His rigorous, borderline obsessive routine he keeps in his daily life through exercising and healthy eating - all to maintain a semblance of control. Yet deep down, it's like he told Rowena in s13:

"It’s not going to change anything. You’re still going to feel helpless."

Just as Lucifer knew that playing on Sam's desperate faith in religion and scramble to achieve purity (to be saved - as he said in s2) would be the only thing to get him to even go near the Cage, Lucifer knows that throwing back in his face his increased docility as time goes on as Sam's true failure and the reason why he will fail everyone around him is the only thing that could make Sam let himself be Lucifer's vessel. The way he spins it to sound like Sam not letting Lucifer out is proof of his weakness and helplessness. What if that was my last straw?

This scene, this whole episode, was so good and it made me want to claw my eyes out.

Lucifer calls him prissy. He says I never liked you but at this point - when you made the hard choice to save the world and condemned yourself in the Cage to me in holy matrimony, I respected you. You're not that person anymore. You're soft and placid and weak and that's something to be ashamed of. You're going to doom the world now because you're too screwed in the head. Look at you and your first romantic affairs when you were younger - Solid B on the tongue action - yes I know that about you too.

Lucifer being all righteous in saying that its the fact that Sam and Dean would do anything to save each other that is the problem that keeps dooming the world. And it's horrible because Sam knows he's right, the viewer knows he's right - their codependency is their moral pitfall, but it's all spiraling to the worst conclusion.

Tell you what - the second half of s11 can shove it's sympathy for the devil routine down my throat all it wants, but I will never stop hating that slimy bastard. The potential of s11 was unmatched in reaping psychological warfare on Sam, and it was a shame that it played out in such a... goofy... unnuanced... cheap semblance of a redemption arc... way that it did. But still, it is scenes like this one that pull through to make the season worth it.

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wanderingcas · 5 months

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me as i finish chapter 25 of wtid: oh my god did i just write the end?

#i'm.#there's an epilogue in sam's pov but jesus christ #no wait. WAIT #I'M NOT READY #wtidspn

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deadwerewolfgirlfriend · 1 year

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Supernatural 13.20 Unfinished Business

#can't get over 'he used me he debased me until I was-' (and he can't even finish it). spn writers s'il vous plait the hell #too many things to talk about at once #this episode gives us so much in 43 minutes and I don't even know where to start #if I analyze on the post I'll be here 12 paragraphs later breaking down the minutia of Speight's fantastic performance this entire episode #long story short what they're saying in this scene is:#gabriel: asmodeus tortured me (I will kill them) (I know it won't fix me) (I don't care) (Loki is mine. this is mine.)#sam: I understand (of course I would take a shot at lucifer) (I'm ready to die) (I want to die) (did I ever escape? will I ever escape?)#dean: revenge is a waste of time (with me with dad it only ends ugly) (I tried) (I'm always trying to change it) (I can never change it)#supernatural #spnedit #spn #spndaily #supernaturaldaily #supernaturaledit #spn gifs #sam winchester #dean winchester #archangel gabriel #gabriel supernatural #the trickster #spn season 13 #my edits #something about how they never joke about asmodeus. or late seasons lucifer. now that they know them they know how bad it is #and sam immediately 'i know' vs. 'haha lucifer wearing sam to the prom' from s4-s5 #sam what happened to you in hell. dean what happened to you in hell. daddy's girl broke in 30 and the reject son has never been right

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seraphic-elysian · 3 months

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@foolondahill17 have my attempt at the prompt you put about Dean sprinting to Cas. It's not perfect and I ended it without a resolution as I wanna write this as a whole ass fic but I really wanted to share this with you since your idea inspired the hell out of me. ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ It happens in a moment. A heartbeat trapped between the milliseconds of time. Dean turns in the loose grip of his brother’s hands, green eyes trained on the golden crack of light that splits their world open to another, waiting for the sign of his angel. His heart is racing within his chest, adrenaline keeping him sharp and steady, as he waits with bated breath for his angel to emerge through the light. The image of Castiel stalking toward Lucifer as Sam pulls him to the portal is burned into his eyelids. He knows that it is almost a sickening parallel of the way that he had pulled Sam from his burning apartment all of those years ago but he can only pray that Castiel will not be killed. That he will not have to suffer the same agonizing heartbreak that Sam did when Jessica died. He refuses to entertain the thought of something happening to the angel, of him dying or being hurt while in the other world. That will not happen.

It cannot.

Dean steps close enough to the portal that he can hear the rushing of the wind and smell the heavy scent of gunpowder on the breeze. It pulls at his clothing in a tantalizing lure, a promise of taking him to where his angel is, but he refuses. He will not step back through the portal and waste the safety that Castiel had given him.

Sam’s voice is nothing but a gurgle of noises behind him but he does not need to hear him to understand what he is saying. Dean knows that he is too close to the portal for his brother to feel confident that he will not go through it to find Castiel. He knows that he becomes irrational and impulsive when his angel is in danger. That he has, in the past, openly let others be hurt and killed if it meant that those he cares about will be safe. Dean also knows that he has a history of suicidal tendencies, of throwing himself in front of others to take a hit or killing himself to trade someone else's life for his own, and that Sam has been witness to him doing that several times. And while he is aware that he would not hesitate to end his life if it meant that the angel would return safe and alive, he does not feel the need to do so. Not right now.

“Don’t be stupid, Dean! Cas is capable!” Sam nearly screams the words to him, voice only barely heard over the rushing noise in Dean’s ears.

And of course he is. Dean knows better than anyone what Castiel is capable of and how strong and intelligent the angel is. But even having the knowledge of that will not stop him from worrying about him. It will not stop him from desperately trying to keep the angel by his side where Dean is able to keep him safe.

After all, how can anyone act normal and as though the world is not on the verge of ending when the living personification of their heart is facing off against an archangel?

The portal flares a brilliant gold that burns his eyes and Dean’s breath leaves his lungs in a shaky exhale as Castiel appears in front of him. There is blood stained along his trench coat, his black curls are covered in dust, and his face is streaked with dirt but Dean has never seen anything more beautiful. Exhausted blue eyes meet his own and something that Castiel sees on his face makes the angel’s brows furrow and him to step closer to Dean. They are close enough that he can feel heat radiating off of the angel and the exhalation of his breath ghosting across his face and, for the first time, Dean does not step back or snap at the angel. No, he only sways forward as he is captured by Castiel’s orbit. He surrenders to the feelings that he has in his chest, this desire to put himself out there and show the other how he feels.

“D-”

Castiel cuts himself off as an angel blade pierces through the bottom of his chest with a sickening squelch. The shining metal is clean as it slides through the angel’s body without resistance before it is yanked out violently. Crimson stains his white dress shirt and Castiel’s grace flares brightly through the gaping wound. Dean is moving before he can think, arms gathering the angel against his chest as he sags, and pressing his hand against the bleeding wound on his back. He does not see where Lucifer goes as the angel saunters off but he knows that Sam will watch his back. Something heavy and soft curls over his arms and back, engulfing him in the scent of honeysuckles and wildflowers, but when he looks there is nothing there. The smell of Castiel’s grace slowly begins to turn acrid as his grace begins to burn and Dean collapses to his knees.

“Get away,” Castiel whines, weak hands pushing against Dean’s chest, “I can’t hold it back anymore. Get away!”

Dean shakes his head and tightens his grip on the angel, “No!”

A whine escapes Castiel’s throat as the light flares up brighter and hotter, escaping from his mouth and eyes. The invisible objects that he feels against him heat up rapidly, searing his skin even through his clothing, and the heat and light reaches its apex in a wave of agony before it shatters. A pained howl leaves his lips as fire scorches him, consuming him in a decimating blaze that he cannot escape. His eyes burn even through his closed lids and he turns his face away from the sharp explosion of light. It seems as though it takes forever before it clears, taking the scorching heat with it, and Dean weakly lays Castiel’s body down. He presses his forehead down against the soft cotton of his dress shirt as he processes the hell that he just went through.

Castiel is dead. There is no denying that, not after what he just experienced. The angel is gone in a shattering of holy light and the smell of scorched feathers. His shaking fingers come up and tangle in the rough wool of the trench coat as he raises his face, desperate to see confirmation that Lucifer has murdered Castiel. He needs to memorize the pattern of his beautiful wings that will be burned into the dirt of this little home. Sliding his eyes open slowly, he sees…nothing. An unending wall of bright white light fills his vision and does not leave no matter how much he blinks or shakes his head. He panics, sucking in a startled breath, body freezing in fear at the implications of what this means.

Turning his head toward where he remembers his brother standing, he asks, “Sam?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean!” Sam’s voice is rough with anger as he stomps up to where Dean is kneeling, “You know what happens when an angel dies. You’ve fucking seen that happen so many times! So, what the hell were you thinking being right at the center of that? Didn’t you think for a second about what that would do to you?”

“It’s Cas, Sammy,” his excuse sounds broken as it falls through his lips. He is in agony, arms and back still burning from the blaze that had licked across his skin, “I couldn’t just-”

“How many times has he died before and you’ve stayed back from it? How many times has he been killed like this and you’ve not put yourself at the center of his grace exploding?” Sam is yelling now, anger making him sound almost terrifyingly like John, and Dean feels far too vulnerable here on the ground, “I don’t even know how we’re going to heal that. Or if we even can. Fuck, Dean, we didn’t need this on top of everything else!”

He takes Sam’s anger without question or complaint. He knows that he messed up and that he injured himself right when they are about to be dealing with Lucifer. He knows that his vision being gone, however temporary this is, will make him a vulnerability and a liability. It is now completely up to Sam to be able to defend not only himself but Dean as well.

“I should be able to see again in a few days,” he responds once Sam pauses to take a breath, “We just have to lay low inside of the Bunker until then. I know I messed up, Sammy, okay?”

“You can’t see?” Sam is suddenly in his space, calloused hand gripping his chin tightly, and Dean stifles a flinch. His head is tilted back and forth and he feels his brother messing with his eyelids. It is incredibly uncomfortable to not be able to see what Sam is doing but he knows that he is in safe hands, “Is it just blurry or is it fully gone?”

“I can’t see anything,” he admits as Sam wipes something off of his cheek, “it’s nothing but white.”

Sam sucks in a startled breath, hands stilling against his face, before he moves and cleans off his other cheek. “Okay, I…I didn’t realize that you were blind.”

“Then what were you talking about?”

Sam does not answer right away and Dean huffs in frustration. He hates not being able to see his brother’s face and be able to read him. He has always relied on the fact that Sam is an open book to him, that he rarely hides what he is thinking and feeling, and now having that taken away from him makes him feel as though he is lost at sea without a life raft.

The trench coat is warm within the grasp of his fingers but he forces himself to release it, to smooth it back into place despite the shake in his hands. His palm presses against the flat expanse of Castiel’s chest and something inside of him burns at the fact that he cannot feel his heart beating or the rise and fall of his chest. That he can feel the heat dissipating from his body, leaving it cold and empty. There is something within the cavern of his chest that feels just as hollow as the body in front of him, something along his soul that screams at the idea of Castiel being gone, but he can do nothing about that. There is no cure or bandage that can heal a broken heart.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches away from it violently, “What the fuck, Sam?”

“You know how angel wings are burned into the ground when they die?” Sam asks gently, continuing when Dean nods in confusion, “Dean…Cas’s wings aren’t…they…they’re burned into your skin, dude. From the back of your hands, up your arms, and across your back to either side of your spine.”

“But I’m wearing clothes,” Dean argues weakly, “How could they have burned through that?”

His brother exhales shakily, “Couldn’t his wings phase through things like that?”

The fingers of his right hand skirt over to his left, drifting across the back of it, and a pained noise leaves his lips as his skin flares up in red hot pain at the touch. He shakes his head, refusing to accept what Sam is telling him. There is no way that he is carrying the shadow-burn of his angel’s wings on his body. He is not holy enough, not good enough, to carry the image of that burned onto his skin.

Castiel deserves to have something more than Dean Winchester acting as a living tombstone.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Sam's hands grip his elbows and pulls him to his feet, "Once we do that, we can get Cas and Kelly ready to be put to rest."

Dean grabs onto his brother tightly, resisting the guiding hand that is pulling him toward the house. He does not want to leave Castiel lying here, alone, on the dirt. There will need to be a pyre and Castiel's body will need to be prepped for that but he does not think he has the strength to leave him. Not anymore.

"I can't," His voice catches in his throat, "Sam, I can't leave him."

He can see the furrow of Sam's brow in his mind as his brother responds, "Why not?"

"I love him," it falls from his lips like water, easy and free-flowing, "I love him so much I don't know how the hell I'm able to breathe. I can't just..."

"Okay, yeah, I get it," Sam answers, "How long have you...?"

Dean tries to smile but it pulls at his face wrong, lips twisting into more of a grimace. He turns his face toward the ground and welcomes the white void that consumes his vision. It is much easier to be able to be this open with his brother when he is unable to see his facial expressions.

"Years," he exhales heavily, the word nothing more than a whisper on the breeze.

Sam does not answer him but he does help Dean back onto the ground by his angel's body. His hands are warm as they squeeze his elbows once before removing them.

"Let me go get the stuff to prepare his body, okay? You can do it here and I'll handle Kelly."

"What about Jack?"

Sam huffs, "I have no idea what we're going to do."

"We raise him. We give him the childhood we didn't have. He chose Cas as his father and I'm not going to abandon his child just because his sperm donor is Satan himself." Dean tells him, "We educate him, we tell him about the spooky shit and about the stuff that lurks in the dark. We make sure that he's able to handle himself if he ever winds up on a hunt."

"And we tell him about Cas."

He nods, hand reaching out until it lands on Castiel's arm, "Yeah, we tell him about Cas."

Sam leaves him then, footsteps trailing off toward the house. Dean is left in the dirt, surrounded by the sound of waves lapping at the shore of the lake and insects buzzing around him. It feels wrong, to experience this peaceful moment while he kneels at the side of his fallen person. Castiel should be here. He should be the one that teaches Jack about humanity and the world around them. He should be the one to choose what, if any, of the hunting world that Jack learns. He should teach him about bees and flowers and the names of the constellations in the sky.

He should be here, raising the child that he loves, instead of it falling to Dean.

But he is not. He is dead, killed because he ensured that everyone got to safety. And now it is up to Dean to raise Jack.

He spends the next hour gently cleaning Castiel's body with the warm water and cloths that Sam brought him. The dirt and blood is washed from his skin as best that Dean can while his vision is gone before Sam helps him wrap and secure his body in a soft fabric.

Together, they lift his body between them and Sam guides him to the pyre, leaving him to lay Castiel down inside of it alone. The angel is heavy in his arms and makes his wounds radiate agony as they are agitated but he does not care. There will be time for him to heal, for his wounds to be cleaned and bandaged. But not right now. Not when he is resting the love of his life inside of a tomb made of wood, waiting for him to be set ablaze.

The fire is hot on his face as he stares unseeingly in the direction of it. Jack and Sam are on the other side of the pyre, talking quietly to each other, and Dean wishes that he had the strength to go join them. To find comfort in knowing that they are mourning for the angel together. He could go to them, he knows that, but if he moves from this spot he is not sure that he will be able to keep himself from shattering. The reality of Castiel being gone has not fully hit yet and he knows that the moment the fire burns down, the moment that the only thing left of Castiel is the feathers burned into Dean's skin and the ashes on the wind, that he will he consumed by grief. That the only thing he will be able to feel is the hollow void in his chest that signifies that his angel is gone.

"Can I stay here with you?"

Dean flinches at the soft voice that speaks, turning his head in Jack's direction. He does not respond to him, too afraid that he will say something he does not mean or begin to cry if he does, so he nods his agreement. The kid steps closer to him and his hand slips into Dean's. He takes in a deep breath and squeezes that hand gently, leaving them clasped at his side.

"He loved you," Dean tells him hours later when the fire has died down to almost nothing. Sam had stepped away to handle something some time ago so it is only the two of them left by the angel's side, "You should have your parents here to raise you. You shouldn't have to grow up without them."

Jack is silent for a moment before he speaks, "I have you."

"Yeah, kid, you do."

"He loved you, too," Jack tells him, as though those words do not sends spiderweb cracks along the wall holding his emotions back.

He stays quiet, unable to respond even if he desired to, and they stand there together until Jack tells him that the fire is gone.

Today he will kneel in the ashes of his lover's pyre, gathering the remains of him with clumsy hands, as their child holds the glass jar steady for him to put the ashes in. He will seal up that jar and cling to it for the several hour long drive it will take for them to reach the Bunker.

And, when he is led to his room by his brother, letting him sit the jar down upon his nightstand, Dean will finally allow himself to break.

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #fanfic #spn #ficlet #sam winchester #jack kline #angst #major character death #major character injury #tw blood #Castiel's Wings #shitty writing #I really need more than three hours of sleep #I wrote this after having an urge to go fist fight god #though I'm ready to fist fight tumblr too since it keeps messing with my posts

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starheirxero · 4 months

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WAIT SOLAR WAS BEING SILLY IN TODAY'S TLAES EPISODE THAT'S EVERYTHING TO ME. ILY SOLARRRR 😭😭😭

#xero says things #HE WAS FULLY READY TO PARKOUR TO REACH LUNAR ON THE SHELF I'VE NEVER SEEN HIM DO THAT #HE'S USUALLY SO BUSY FOCUSING ON OTHER MATTERS I'M LITERALLY SO HAPPY. SOLAR SILLY HOORAY!!!!!!#lunar and earth show #sun and moon show #sams solar #tsams #solar

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lils-ki · 22 days

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@apple-unofficial @femboy-hooters-official @official-omegamart @sam-the-skelepun

is everyone awake??

#femboy hooters <3 #omegamart <3 #apple <3 #sam <3 #ki #I'm ready to get married #all five of us

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mortegas · 7 months

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Somehow I had not previously noticed Erica's open hostility to Spock in this scene:

Her back is turned; her jaw is set; she refuses to even look at him. She's not just averting her eyes from his humiliation; she is DONE.

He's already stolen Christine's joy once. Now that her friends have persuaded her to celebrate her accomplishment, here he is again, demanding that she make it about him. For Erica, it's the last straw.

Is she jealous? Is she tired of seeing her friend in pain? Whatever she's feeling, she's not alone: Sam too is less than thrilled to have his antagonistic boss break in on their celebration. But neither of them can do anything about it. It's up to Christine.

Fortunately, she's ready.

#star trek #strange new worlds #erica ortegas #christine chapel #ship of ships #my girls #spock #sam kirk #chapel x ortegas #christine chapel x erica ortegas #subspace rhapsody #i'm ready

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blackwolfstabs · 6 months

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30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 15

LET GO

"You have to let me go." - the hardest decision and one hell of a commitment.

inspired by the song "I Loved Her First" by Heartland

I was enough for her, not long ago. I was her number one, she told me so.

Tara was 20-going-on-21. She was growing up. She was moving on. She was independent and dependable. She was smart and courageous. She was everything Sam would ever hope for her to be.

Except not staying her little girl forever…

Sam remembered everything. Everything they ever had before it all changed, before their fallout, before she left. Ten years, five years, one year, all of the time wasted and estranged meant nothing. It didn’t hold a candle to the amount of memories she could talk hours about. She couldn’t tell you she’d been there for her baby sister’s whole life, but she could tell you anything you’d want to know about her. She remembered every fight, every smile, every laugh, every cry, every pain, every hug, every kiss, every “Sammy”—

Sammy… That’s a name she hadn’t heard in a long time. It was Tara’s name for her… Her special name. She had said that more times than she had said “Mama” or “Daddy”, more than she had said “Mom” or “Dad.” She had said that more than she had ever said any other name in the whole world. Now, she was just Sam, and that was fine. But she couldn’t forget what it meant to be Sammy. What it meant to be the one Tara would cry for in the middle of the night when she was being sleep trained and was tired of going back and forth from their parents’ bedroom. What it meant to be the one she hugged every day when she came home from school. What it meant to hold her hand at the doctor’s office or push her on the swing. What it meant to be adored and believed in, no matter how impossible the challenge. What it meant to be Tara’s Number 1…

“You’re my number one, Sammy! I love you!”

It’s not that Tara loved her any less or that she ignored her. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her or was leaving so they’d never see each other again. They saw each other every day. They talked every day. They still said, “I love you” and “Goodnight” and “How are you?” to each other.

But it wasn’t the same.

There was hurt and scars deep in that girl’s eyes. Her smile hadn’t changed, but it hid a million tragedies. She was no longer innocent in the way that pain and suffering and fear were the worst in the forms of splinters, not getting the stuffed animal she wanted, or what might be hiding under her bed. Tara knew what it was like to have broken bones and scars permanently tattooed onto her skin. She knew what it was like to beg for mercy as she bled out and drag herself helplessly across a cold floor in hopes that a serial killer with a blood lust would have mercy on her life. She knew what it was like to shake so violently that it took mountains of drugs to sedate her and scream herself hoarse trying to fight for everything she had to lose. She knew what it was like to be so far gone that trauma was the only thing that pulled her back.

And then Chad came along…

And she still means the world to me, just so you know, so be careful when you hold my girl.

He and Tara were a match made that Sam never saw coming. When she had first returned to Woodsboro, she thought of him having grown up to be the stereotypical jock that you see in the movies. However, once he lost Liv and Tara lost Amber, something between them sparked. It was subtle, but Sam had babysat Chad long enough to figure him out as if he were her brother. She noticed the way he was careful around her younger sister, watching how he moved to make sure he never made her uncomfortable and how he was always there to watch out for her when Sam wasn’t around. Trauma had matured them both, as sad as that was to say, but in the same token, they bonded over that.

Sam respected how protective Chad was over Tara. How he was the one nearly caught in a fight when Frankie intended to drag Tara up the stairs and rape her. How he held the door for her and pulled her out of harm’s way whenever she tried to rush into danger. How he held her when she was hurting and kissed her goodnight. She knew she could trust him with her only sister, the person she cared the most about in this cruel world. And she would never love anyone more.

Tara was her girl, no matter who she devoted her heart to.

And if it was Chad, so be it.

Time changes everything, life must go on. I’m not gonna stand in your way.

Yes, Tara had grown up. She didn’t cry anymore when she fell down. She wasn’t clingy when they were in a new place. She didn’t ask for help with her homework or crawl into Sam’s bed in the middle of the night just because she “missed her”.

She was still young, but she couldn’t be tied to Sam’s side anymore. She had to let her go.

And she did. That night she had given Tara the knife, while she hung off the balcony, their bloodied hands clutching each other’s wrists like they were all they had to lose.

“You have to let me go.”

Since then, they had become closer as sisters but even more distant in boundaries. Tara was free, because she proved to herself and Sam that she could take care of herself. So, she went to college, stayed up late, walked to and from therapy sessions by herself, hung out with friends, hit up a movie theater every now and then, and just indulged in her collar-free lifestyle. She always told Sam where she was going and how long she’d be out, but she was alone in doing it. All her older sister could do was say, “Okay. Be careful. I love you.”

And in reply, she’d hear, “I will. Love you too.”

She had made a promise to Tara that she’d always be there for her, but she understood that she couldn’t keep her sheltered from the rest of the world. Tara had a tough background; she deserved the freedom, trust, and independence she had to go where she wanted, experience what life had to offer, and love who she couldn’t live without.

Sam couldn’t stand in her way any longer.

I loved her first. I held her first. And a place in my heart will always be hers.

But no matter where Tara went, how long she stayed away, and who she spent her days and nights with, Sam would always be the first one to love her. Sure, she may have gone to school with Chad Meeks-Martin. She may have shared her lunch with him. She may have raced him on the playground and gave him hours of her time after school when Sam would babysit both twins and Wes Hicks. She may have fallen in love with him. She may have kissed him and sat in his lap late at night. She may have pushed his buttons, and he may have pushed hers. She may have done a lot of things.

But Sam had always been the first one to do any of them. She was the reason Tara knew what all those things felt like and how they made her feel.

She loved her first, and no matter how old Tara was or where life took her, Sam would always hold everything she had of her baby sister in a special place in her heart.

From the first breath she breathed, when she first smiled at me. I knew the love of a sister runs deep.

The day she was born. Her first word. Her first asthma attack. All of her doctor’s visits. Her sleep training. The day she lost her first tooth. Her first day of pre-k. Her first day of kindergarten. Evey milestone Tara had in her childhood, Sam was there for.

As far as she was concerned, being the older sister meant being anything and everything for her baby sister, even if it was impossible. If Tara was scared, she wasn’t. If Tara needed a doctor on sight, Sam vowed she would get her to one by carrying her on her back. If Tara asked for one more bedtime story, one more hug, one more goodnight kiss, Sam would give it to her. Anything Tara wanted was hers, no matter how hard it was to get.

She never could stand it when her younger sister would cry, no matter the age. When Tara was a baby, she’d keep asking her mom why she was crying, convinced something was wrong when she was told that babies just cry sometimes. When she would accidently push Tara down while playing, she would beg her parents that it was an accident, that she didn’t mean to hurt her or make her cry. When Tara was being sleep-trained, Sam would cover her ears to block out her constant wailing when she would be put back into her room. She’d listen to her sobs and pleas, asking for one more hug or pull an excuse just to get her way. But when Tara would give up on their parents and started to call out “Sammy! I need you, Sammy!”, she gave in every time. Because when she saw her tears dry before she drifted off to sleep, happy that she was no longer alone, Sam couldn’t think of anything else in the world that was more precious than her existence.

And I prayed that she’d find you someday. But it’s still hard to give her away…

If only Tara could have always been that happy. If only she could have always stayed that innocent. But life was never fair to the ones that didn’t deserve its wrath.

However, it had given her so much to live for. Her degree. Chad. Her future. The rest of her life.

And as hard as it was to let her go, Sam knew she had to. For Tara’s sake. Because like it had been from the start, she’d forever do whatever it took to make sure she was happy.

Even if it was impossible.

I loved her first.

She knew from day 1 that she could never love anyone more than the baby girl with the most beautiful smile in the world. She would never want anything but the best for the baby girl with the most beautiful name in the world.

Tara Carpenter.

How could that beautiful woman with you be the same freckled-face kid that I knew?

And Sam had never been more right about anything in her life. Tara was gorgeous, and everyone thought so too. She’d come home from her college classes and go on and on about how many boys tried to get her number or make a move on her. Then, she’d proudly talk about how she’d turn them down and flash them her lock screen—which was of her and Chad celebrating New Year’s—as she walked by.

She carried herself with confidence, she said what she pleased, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and she had no problem throwing a punch to someone who deserved it. Samantha couldn’t believe how much she’d grown from being that little girl that would hide behind her, because she was too shy. That little girl who would look up at her with the biggest eyes and brightest grin, saying “Sammy, guess what I did today?” The little girl that once thought she was the queen of the household, just because her big sister doted on her so much.

She was the same person who had done all that, but no one would’ve thought it.

The one that I read all those fairy tales to… and tucked into bed all those nights.

Oh, God, and how Sam would do everything a thousand times over, if it only meant Tara could stay little forever.

There were many times that their parents were working or having heated discussions in their room, so it would be up to Sam to read Tara her bedtime story or tuck her in. It became a routine, and she enjoyed it so much that she took it up to be her responsibility each night. They were both learning, so why not do it together?

She would always let Tara pick the book and choose how many times she wanted to hear it. Tara always sat in her lap or leaned against her with all her weight from the side. Sam never minded it when she’d shout out the words on the next page before she even turned it or the way she would insist she wasn’t tired—that she wanted to hear it again—even though she was yawning and rubbing her eyes.

And when Sam got her in bed and tucked her in, Tara would rehearse the same phrase she’d learned from one of her books, except she had her own little twist on it.

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my Sammy, you’ll be.”

What Sam would give to hear that one more time.

And I knew the first time I saw you with her, it was only a matter of time.

But she would never ask to hear it. Tara was who she was, and she did her best not to look back. Not because of her childhood, of all those beautiful times she and Sam shared together, but because of the grief, pain, and trauma that had come in between then and now. It was a brick wall, a storm window, a tangle of strings that shaped her into who she was today.

Sam knew that, just like she knew moving on and giving her heart to someone new was all a part of Tara living and enjoying her life.

She had to accept it.

Tara wasn’t gone. She hadn’t left. She had simply grown up. They still had a ton of time to spend with each other and just be sisters. They loved each other like no other half-siblings could ever love each other.

They were Samantha and Tara Carpenter. The Carpenter Sisters.

And for a while, they had forever in their hands. That’s why it was so hard for one to understand…

That the one thing that was the best thing she could ever do for her baby sister was the exact thing she was the most scared of.

She had to let her go.

Someday, you might know what I’m going through…

“Can I see her?” Sam asked her mother, barely unable to keep her excitement in finally becoming a true big sister to herself.

She had only been 5 years old at the time, not knowing just how close she and her new baby sister would come to be. Not knowing how crazy and reckless their lives would become. Not knowing how putting their lives on the line for each other 20 years later would come to be of the same little girls that once thought monsters in the closet, thunderstorms, and the first day of school were the most terrifying things in the world.

“Mm-hmm,” Christina nodded as her husband picked up her oldest daughter and placed her on the edge of the hospital bed.

Sam saw her mother cradling the smallest human being she had ever seen in her arms as she leaned over to get a better view. And then next thing she knew, she was staring at the face of her new baby sister.

And her whole world stopped.

When a miracle smiles up at you…

“Samantha, meet your baby sister. Tara Carpenter.”

I loved her first.

i did not expect to write this so quickly, i literally couldn't stop typing (except for the times when i started crying and had to retreat where my mom wouldn't notice lol)

this was one of the hardest things i've ever written. if you didn't cry, your heart must be made of stone, because i'm lowkey a wreck after finishing this (unless the carpenter sisters' relationship doesn't hold any power on you, then you're not heartless, just vibin).

All my best ♡ - parker

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