Spn Fic: Pyrophobia
Title: Pyrophobia
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters …
Author’s Note/Summary: Okay, so I had the title, but I've been struggling to write a story to match. So - this is just a short fic for Poaetpainter/
hidden_easel about Sam’s fear of fire. Sorry Jill, I know you wanted angst and torture, but it just wouldn’t come to me. I tried again with my fic Devastation and did manage some Sammy pain, but strayed way off the plot.
PG/Gen, 600 words.
Pyrophobia
When he closed his eyes he could still see her - blond hair frayed out around her face, dress clinging to her body, eyes wide and mouth open.
Pinned to the ceiling. Bleeding.
Burning.
She didn’t deserve to die like that. It was the cruellest of fate, coming about simply because she was linked to him.
Death by association.
He couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t get the images out of his head. Couldn’t get the fear out of his mind every time he let himself imagine what it would be like, dying like that. Wondering when it would happen to him, so sure his turn would come.
-o-
Fire was a natural means of destruction. Easy, inexpensive, and efficient. Yet once ignited, it could become a force on its own, difficult to control, unpredictable, with the strength to cause devastation and destruction. Ruin lives.
He hated fire, and everything it stood for.
He understood - that fire was a means to an end. It didn’t mean he had to like it. Ironic really, he thought, as he watched the decapitated body burn, that fire was not only evil in itself, but destroyed evil as well.
Every time he saw a flame he couldn’t help but remember all the grief it had brought upon himself and his family. He couldn’t help but wonder if the same future was in stall for him. He couldn’t help but fear the fire.
He knew it was irrational, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.
He turned away from the heat and took a small, barely discernable, step backwards.
-o-
Dean watched his brother’s actions. “Stop being so goddamn pyrophobic,” he muttered.
“Where’d you learn the big word Dean?”
“Don’t change the subject Sam.”
“You know it’s only a phobia if you’ve got a fear of something that poses no real danger. You and I both know what fire can do.”
“Its still friggin’ irrational if you ask me. I mean seriously dude, fire?”
“Seriously Dean, flying? Ring any bells?”
“Yeah, well that’s not irrational, planes crash.” Dean retorted.
Sam stared back at his brother. “And fire burns.”
“I swear Sam, you’ve gotta get over this. I mean next time, next time we mightn’t be so lucky.” Dean palmed the box of matches in his pocket, knowing that in their line of work they couldn’t afford to hesitate, even for a second.
“Ever though Dean that maybe it’s you that has the problem. That maybe you like lighting fires a little too much …those sparkly flames make you feel all warm and tingly?” Sam heckled as he watched the flames die down, their power diminishing as the heat retreated.
“Hell Sammy, I’m happy to share. If you wanted to play with matches too, all you had to do was ask.”
“Just ‘cause I don’t get off on it doesn’t mean I can’t do it.” Sam muttered.
Dean tossed him the matches. “There you go Sparky, your turn next time.”
They let the embers die a natural death.
-o-
End.