Photograph

'Dammit.'

In a sudden, violent movement, Crowley threw the tattered remains of the photograph into a dusty corner. It didn't do much to hide it; one scrap of paper still showed the white dragon's face smiling serenely at the camera, his blue eyes sparkling like dew on sunlit grass.

There were more photos in this room, he knew, and he'd seen enough of them to know that every one depicted that same white dragon. At least a dozen of them, and not one that depicted him.

With a scream, Crowley lunged forwards and slammed a clawed paw down on top of the piece, clenching his fist and crushing the paper inside, his whole body trembling with rage and the effort he was putting into it. When he finally loosened his grip, the picture of Lucifer's face was no longer recognisable as anything that had once been a person. A scrap of white raked with claw marks and ripped right down the middle.

He dropped the paper and turned away, his crazed fury dissolving as quickly as it had come. He felt strange; empty, but also buzzing with a kind of energy like an electrical current. He felt like he could do anything, but the desire to try had already left him.

He nonchalantly kicked the remaining scraps of photograph under the bed before walking out of the room to find his parents. No doubt they would be with Lucifer; there was rarely a moment when they were away from the little white-feathered brat. Always with him, smiling at him, touching his head, gazing at him with sparkling eyes, so proud of the thing they had created. The thing that was so perfect, so beautiful, so unlike Crowley, the failed experiment, the child they probably wished they could forget.

He knocked the door shut with his tail as he passed, knowing his parents would soon notice that someone had been rummaging around in their bedroom, but he wasn't too worried. They never paid enough attention to his activities to prove he was the culprit.

---

Loose stones crumbled down from the wall as Lucifer's body weight hit it with crushing force, eliciting a shocked gasp. He was by no means a large dragon, but he was well-fed. Despite it, Crowley – who was as scrawny in build as a malnourished vulture – was able to pin him against the wall with little effort.

'You runt,' he snarled in Lucifer's ear, making the younger dragon lean away from him in terror. 'I should kill you now for everything you've taken away from me!' He curled his fist and let his sharp claws dig into Lucifer's neck, just like he'd done to the photograph. But he couldn't crush Lucifer as easily; he knew that. What he needed was a better method. If he turned his claws sideways and drew them across his brother's throat, he could cut it open, and then--

'Boys! What's going on? It's dinner time!' The voice echoed from the other end of the cave corridor, and the sound of hurrying feet could be heard.

With a muttered curse, Crowley released his hold and let Lucifer thump to the floor. 'This isn't over,' he growled – a whispered threat, one that both of them knew wouldn't be forgotten.

He would find a way to get Lucifer out of the picture. He would.

---

Family dinners were so often strained, tense – the atmosphere thick with something that the two boys, young as they were, couldn't interpret. Their parents would sneak glances at each other while they gorged themselves on fish and mountain game and try very hard not to look as if anything was different.

For Crowley, lots of things are different; he doesn't need his parents to tell him that. He had a baby brother now, who he hated.

Did he hate Lucifer? He hated what Lucifer represented – his parents having something to care for and dote over that wasn't him.

Would never be him again.

'Crowley, are you OK?' his mother's voice softly queried, and his head snapped up to meet her worried gaze.

'Yeah,' he said indifferently before turning back to his meal. He'd stripped the salmon almost bare. Maybe he could leave the tiny, splintery fish bones in Lucifer's bed, just to inconvenience him... would his parents find out if he did that? Nah. And even if they suspected, they wouldn't know, because they didn't pay enough attention to him. They hadn't noticed the ruined photograph under their bed yet, the pieces torn with what had clearly been a dragon's claws.

Everyone went back to eating in awkward silence, and resentment boiled in Crowley's gut that he was the reason for the tension. His parents might not have found the photographs, but the hostility Crowley had been showing towards his baby brother had been simmering for months. They weren't idiots; they could tell something was wrong.

Crowley didn't miss the quick, scared glance that Lucifer threw at him while they ate. The little brat remembered Crowley's promise. Good.

---

Years passed. Having reached his sixth birthday just a week ago, Lucifer was now halfway grown, though still considerably smaller than his nine-year-old brother. Crowley was close to adult size now, even though it would probably be many more years before he was truly considered an adult in society.

The birthday celebrations had made his blood boil, and it had taken every ounce of the self-control he possessed to not throw himself at Lucifer and tear the whiny, spoilt little brat's throat out. To calm his nerves, he closed his eyes and thought about that glorious day when Lucifer would finally be gone and his parents would have no-one to love except Crowley.

He had sworn that someday he'd make his wish come true.

He was shaking with held-back fury when the celebrations finally ended. Lucifer had no friends, so it had been their parents who lavished love and attention on him every minute of the day. But what had really, truly infuriated Crowley was seeing how many birthday presents his brother had gotten.

Five. One from Crowley, and two each from his parents.

That was two more presents than Crowley had gotten on his last birthday.

He'd tried to ask his mother about it, in the politest way he knew how, but she had just frowned at him and said, 'Don't be petty, Crowley. Lucifer is only little, so he doesn't have as many things as you do. It's only fair to give him more. Besides, we never know what to get you on your birthday.'

That doesn't matter! he'd wanted to scream at her. I don't care what you get me, as long as you don't get Lucifer more! It was one of the few moments when he'd actually referred to Lucifer by name. Such was his rage and disappointment, he couldn't even muster the creativity to come up with a blisteringly horrible epithet.

---

That night, after his parents had gone to bed, Crowley slunk out of his cave room to look for Lucifer. He was more than a little surprised when he discovered the white crowdragon sitting in the main cave, quietly playing with the wooden building blocks their father had given him.

'Having fun?' Crowley sneered. Lucifer whipped around at once, looking guilty.

'Oh, hi Crowley,' he squeaked. 'I-I just wanted to stay up a little later and play with my new things... please don't tell mum and dad?'

Crowley would have told mum and dad if he thought there was any point in doing so. But they wouldn't punish Lucifer; at most, he'd get a gentle scolding, but they would probably just find it endearing that their little baby boy loved his birthday presents so much.

Still, he leaned against the wall with a smirk on his face, pretending to consider. '...Yeah, OK, I won't tell them,' he said casually.

'Really?'

'Sure. But... only if you do something for me.'

Lucifer was too young and naive to notice the predatory gleam in his brother's eyes, or the way his front claws restlessly scraped at the rock floor. He just smiled and nodded eagerly. 'What do you want me to do?'

A number of possibilities came into Crowley's mind. Could he maybe lure Lucifer outside and get him lost in the mountains? No, his parents would find him too easily. Trick him into going into the river, and then hold his head under the water until he stopped moving? Break his wings and then push him off a big cliff?

So many ideas... but which one was the right one?

'Brother?' Lucifer simpered. Annoyance shot through Crowley at having his train of thought interrupted.

'Shut up,' he said boredly. 'OK, here's what I want you to do. Tomorrow, you have to go to my – our – parents and tell them that I deserve more presents than you. Make sure you tell them! Then maybe they'll realise what they've done wrong and they'll give me some more presents, to make up for not getting me enough on my birthday.'

Lucifer's blue eyes widened. 'But... Crowley, don't you think it would be more fair if we got the same amount of presents?'

With a sudden movement, Crowley darted forwards and knocked over Lucifer's block structure with a swipe of his paw. The younger dragon shrieked in terror, scuttling backwards.

Crowley had him pinned to the floor in a second.

'If you don't convince them that they're wrong,' he whispered, tips of his claws trembling against Lucifer's feathered throat, 'then I promise I'm going to get rid of you. I don't know how yet, but I will.'

To his satisfaction, Lucifer nodded, looking absolutely horrified. For once the stupid baby was too in shock to speak.

'Now get out of here,' Crowley said, and threw him backwards with so much force that his back slammed into the cave wall. Immediately he heard panicked voices and footsteps as his parents woke up.

'Don't you dare tell them I was here.' In a flurry of dark feathers, Crowley slipped back into the peaceful quiet of his room, leaving Lucifer to fall into his mother's protective arms and stammer out a pathetic attempt at a cover story.

He was smirking as he fell asleep that night.