Hii! Im Anjalika, bi, 20,🩷💚 im in many fandoms and u can talk to me about anything u like! Mostly here to shitpost and keep up with as much as possible!
Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence and murder; reader discretion is strongly advised. This chapter has fluff and feels though ;)
Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?
A/N: Slightly delayed, but hope you find the chapter worth it ;)
Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23
The new Mrs. Winchester masterlist
“Where are we going?” Y/N asked for the fifth time, but with a smile on her face, as if she knew she wouldn’t get an answer
And she wouldn’t.
Sam simply smirked and pressed on the pedal, hitting the gas. The Impala purred underneath him, and Y/N sighed contentedly beside him.
“This is a sweet fucking ride,” she said.
“That it is,” Sam agreed. “But don’t get used to it. Dean usually doesn’t let his Baby out of sight.”
“So how come we’re riding in it now?”
Sam could have pointed out the obvious– that Dean adored her, that he wanted his Chewie to meet his Baby– but instead, he found himself saying, “Dean’s travelling to a different state. Hates flying, but it’s better this way. I bet he’s sleeping uneasily somewhere knowing I’m behind the wheel.”
Y/N leaned against the side. “You were right, he is a brave man.”
“Mhmm…” Sam voiced a curiosity that he had kept to himself for a while. “How did you even become friends with him?”
She bit her bottom lip, softly, guiltily. Sam had to kill the urge to reach out and bite it himself. Y/N must know she was gorgeous, and she most certainly knew now that Sam was attracted to her… but if only she guessed that a simple smile from her could derange Sam. That he had writhed in hotel beds for hours over how she looked in that one violet, fitted gown.
He’d kissed her, more than once now, but each time he so much as remembered her taste, he lost the ability to think.
“I… I sneaked out of the house one night,” she admitted. “I saw our picture in the papers and… I wanted to get out. He found me in the forest. We’ve been friends since. I light a lantern and put it on the sill. He says he can see it from the cabin he’d lodged in.”
“The one up the stream?” Sam remembered going there once or twice when Dean taught him fishing. The place was broken, damp and plain uninhabitable.
“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. Y/N wore the same three blouses in rotation. Sam remembered this one from their evening in the old horse shed, when he’d first felt her body against his. Her eyes dipped down to her entwined fingers. “You aren’t mad at me?”
“Mad at you? Why?”
“I sneaked out to meet a man in the middle of the night? Like some Harlot?”
Sam had to laugh at that, and then some more.
“You’re laughing!” But some of the guilt had left her face.
“Of course I am!” He eased on the pedal. “It’s not infidelity if you’re not in a relationship. And in any case, if you ran out, that would be on me… because I had done something to upset you. Now, if you had run into someone else, that would’ve been a problem. Can’t trust anyone around here.”
“I wouldn’t have made friends with anyone else,” she muttered, eyes narrowed.
Sam laughed once more.
“What now?” She was biting her lip again, amused. Sam looked away.
“You called yourself a harlot,” he said, a smile cracking. “You weren’t even a harlot for me when you were supposed to be.” Oh, Sam remembered very clearly how she always held her own, wielding her dignity like a blade but also donning it like an armour. She’d never given Sam leeway with how he treated her.
Y/N got a speculative look in her eyes, and Sam realised he really should be paying more attention to the road, but then she said, “I kissed you first.”
Sam slammed the breaks, and the car cruised to the shoulder of the road. He took his time, turning the engine off and then turned to look at her. “I have wanted to kiss you from the second I saw that picture… before you even knew I existed. And I’ve wanted to do a lot more things to you than just kiss you.”
It felt great to finally admit it… to her, to himself and to the universe. The words had been cutting his throat, leaving him bleeding on the inside. But after saying them out loud, it barely made any sense to keep his hands to himself and so Sam touched her… he touched her face, her lips, fingers trailing down to her shoulders over the thin white fabric and further down to her waist, then slipping under the fabric to feel her smooth skin. His other hand still held her face, and he gently bit on her lower lip. She wanted this, she wanted him… why on earth would he not do what he wanted?
Y/N kissed him back furiously, bracing herself against the Impala’s door to hold on to him, taste him like she would never get to kiss him again.
“Remind me why we are parked along a road in the middle of nowhere when we could be in bed right now?” She whispered throatily against his cheek, catching her breath, and Sam was reminded of the reason with an excitement in his gut.
He pulled back reluctantly, but grinning all the same. “Because I’ve got something better.”
As Sam pulled the car back on the road, he almost missed her sigh and murmured ‘doubtful’, but then again he didn’t and it made all the difference. But Sam knew that she was to be proven wrong, and in less than half an hour, the Impala cruised through the open gates of Hill-Mount Academy.
Sam ushered her into the waiting area, a sheltered, three-sided courtyard opening to the grounds. She followed, both confused and reluctant. Sam understood her predicament very well– wanting something desperately versus being scared of the bone-crushing disappointment. A few minutes later, when he came back to her with two kids by his side, he watched her slide down from the stone bench of the courtyard onto her knees and simply gape as tears followed unbounded down her cheeks.
James and Daniella– the kids were nothing like he had seen before. People had called what he Dean had hopelessly codependent. Sam believed it to be something similar for these two. He knew Y/N thought all his trips, especially the last one, was to get away from her… either because he wanted to be away, or he believed her to be angry with him. But in all honesty, Sam would have trashed the business to remain by her door and beg for her to listen to him, to give him a chance to explain. However, Sam knew that more than forgiving him, what Y/N needed were these kids. He could bear her anger as long as he knew he was striving for what she needed more than anything in the world. Because then he would get something better than her forgiveness. He would get her happiness.
Ironically, the kids had been stashed in a boarding school in Colorado of all places– the place where Sam had supposedly met Y/N in all their fake meet-cute stories. Sam had used his best resources to track the admission of two kids in the same week as Y/N’s kidnapping in the snowy states. The uniform from the picture Y/N had and the fact that the kids' admission was under their birth names helped a ton. It took less than a month for the kids to be found, after three false alarms for which he had flown to three different states. Sam had arrived at the academy dejected and hopeless, expecting to be disappointed yet again, but there they were– Y/N’s Jamie and Danny.
The little girl looked like Y/N when she frowned, and the boy definitely had her stubborn glare. Sam had knelt before the boy and offered his hand, introducing himself as Y/N’s friend, and James hadn't taken it, wrapping his arm around his sister and pushing her behind him.
Sam had felt the earth slip underneath his feet at the words, the vision of Y/N floating in the Lincoln lake from Ellen’s curse coming to his mind.
“Y/N’s alright…” he had managed.
“Then why didn’t she come to see us? We know our sister… she had promised to never leave us. Either she’s dead, or she’s abandoned us.”
It had taken some effort to make the boy understand that his sister had been in trouble… terrible trouble, and if she could have, she would’ve come to see them, that she’s been searching for them all along, which was why she had sent him to find them.
When James still hadn’t looked convinced, Sam pulled out his phone to show them his picture with Y/N from one of the functions. The boy’s eyes softened.
Sam hadn’t let the kids out of his sight after that, driving all the way back with them and admitting them to a school that was less than an hour’s drive from the Winchester Estate. He’d admitted them under false names here and installed private security to make sure they were safe and untouchable. Somewhere along the day-long ride, he had grown surprisingly attached to the kids. Danielle spoke very little, choosing to tag along with her brother, but when he was taking a shower in the motel room, she had quietly tugged at Sam’s sleeves and asked to see Y/N’s picture again, caressing the screen with her little fingers until her eyes filled up.
Afterward, James came up to him and asked for the truth upfront. One day, those kids would grow up and understand what their sister had done for them, but it wasn’t up to Sam. Neither was it up to him to reveal any ounce of truth now… that right remained with Y/N. He had told the boy with utmost honesty the only thing that mattered: “I need you to know that your sister loves you more than anything in the world.”
While taking their leave with a promise of coming back with Y/N, Danielle had let go of her brother’s hand and softly kissed the side of Sam’s face, and James had offered his hand with a sincere ‘Thank you.’
Sam– with wet eyes– had understood at last why Y/N had ruined her life to protect them.
Now, he watched as Danny let out a cry and rushed to throw her little arms around Y/N, who completely broke down, but James held back, blinking rapidly. He chanced a look at Sam, and Sam nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”
Slowly, he made his way to his sisters, and Y/N opened her arm to make way for him. He didn’t immediately go.
“Where were you for two years?” James asked, violently rubbing her eyes. “We wrote to you. We called and you never answered. Where the hell were you?”
“In misery,” she said, hand still outstretched, beckoning. “I was locked far, far away and forced to remain there. I would have died there if I hadn’t held on to the hope of seeing you two again. Don’t you believe me?”
James nodded and went into her arms, beginning to cry. “I believe you, Y/N. I believe you. Please don’t leave us again. Please.”
“Never.”
Sam watched from a distance as she sobbed and realised his own cheeks were wet. A sudden coughing fit overtook him, and he reached for the kerchief in his pocket, coughing into it. When Sam removed it, it came back with specs of red.
“Sam?” Y/N had straightened up. The kids were looking at him, too. “Everything alright?”
He hurriedly put the kercheif in his pocket, wiping his mouth. “Yeah. Just caught a viral during the travel.”
Y/N walked over to him and gently placed her head against his shoulder. “Thank you… Thank you for doing this. How am I ever going to repay you?”
“There’s nothing to repay,” he said earnestly. He’d give up everything he owned to see the smile on her face that he was seeing now.
*****
You leaned against the thick bark of the tree watching Sam play football with Jamie. The kid was good, but Sam had the advantage of his height, and he wasn’t bad either. You watched as he cut your brother no slack and with a grunt James ran to the end of the field to get the ball. Sam called out and James, grinning, kicked the ball high enough for it to soar over Sam’s head in the opposite direction. Danny giggled.
“He has pretty eyes,” she said
“That he does.”
“And he’s so tall.”
“That he is.”
Sam and James raced back to you, and in the last second, Sam slowed so James could run straight into your arms. He rolled over and lay flat on his back, sweaty head in your lap. “I won!”
“You did, buddy,” Sam said, gracefully dropping to the ground next to you.
After the reunion in the Academy courtyard, Sam took the three of you out for brunch at a small diner. You watched with hungry eyes, living your dream of seeing your family again as they dug into the cheeseburgers. Sam knew their orders, what kind of soda they liked and their habits. He sheepishly admitted to living with them for the few days it took to move them across states.
“Couldn’t risk letting them out of my sight.”
The kids, too, trusted him blindly. Danny, you could still understand, but Jamie was as sceptical as they came. It had taken him a while to warm up to you, too. But here he was already inventing secret handshakes with Sam while Danny unabashedly wiped her smoothie-covered face against Sam’s shirt-sleeve. Every second seeing them, you couldn’t help but want to start crying happy tears.
Later, back in the Academy campus, Sam had suggested playing football, and James– with a wild excitement in his eyes– had followed. As he rolled around in the grass, head still in your lap, you watched Danny pluck the daisies from the grass and skip over to Sam.
“You have such pretty hair!” She exclaimed. “Mind if I put flowers in them?”
Sam grinned. “Not at all, Sweetheart. Do as you wish.”
You must have had a dopey expression because James cleared his throat loudly. He sat up with a cocky smile and you suddenly remembered how annoying he could be when he wanted to.
“Sam and Y/N sitting in a tree…” he whistled the rest so quietly, you had the urge to smack his head. Sam and Danny were busy doing their own thing, trying to fix the problem of Sam’s hair being too silky to hold the flowers, to notice you and Jamie.
“Where’d you find this guy?”
“In a chapel. What did he tell you?”
James gave a side eye to Sam, who was now trying to weave the flowers into Danny’s hair instead. “That he’s your friend.”
You contemplated for a bit, then decided to come out with the truth. “He’s my friend, yes, but he’s also my husband.”
James’ jaw dropped. “You got married?”
“It’s a long story.”
At nine, you weren’t sure just how much James could handle, but he sure as hell could understand a lot. The kid had lived a tough life, but right now, you didn’t want to disturb his peace of mind by revealing too much.
“We had to get married to get me out of a situation, but he’s a true friend now.”
“He treat you okay?”
The question would have sounded absurd coming from any other kid but this one. You answered all the same. “He treats me… better than I’ve ever been treated.”
James nodded as if he understood. “He’s cool.”
Later, at the Impala, you hugged them both goodbye, promising to see them next weekend.
“Next weekend is too far away!” Danny whined
Sam knelt to her level and stage whispered, “I’ll see if I can whisk her here sooner than that, yeah?”
She giggled, jumping to hug his neck. “You’re the best, Sam!” He laughed gently, kissing the top of her hair. She reached out and plucked flowers from her hair, then handed them to Sam.
“For me?” He asked, surprised, and she nodded, smiling shyly. He tucked them very carefully into his jacket’s pocket.
Then, James went through the whole ritual of their secret handshake. “See you soon, man!”
Leaving them there and taking each step away from them felt like being torn away from half of your body. In a daze, you got back into the car and were still in it when the car eased onto the dirt road leading home from the Academy.
“You know this is temporary, right?” Sam said, jerking you out of your reverie. Scared, before you could ask him what he meant, Sam added. “We’ll bring them home with us when all of this is over. You can keep them with you now.”
“Keep them… with me…” His words wouldn’t sink in… wouldn’t breach your comprehension. Then there was the fact of how casually he’d said them.
“Of course. Once we’re in the clear, what’s stopping you from keeping them with you?”
When you wouldn’t say anything, he chanced a look, and then the car came to a slow halt at the side of the road.
“What’s wrong?”
How were you to tell him the magnanimity of what he had done for you? Three orphans who hadn’t known a home in years, dirt poor, living on scraps of money that barely kept a roof over their heads in schools and colleges. A long-forgotten dream, when you would be an architect in Chicago and the kids living with you, going to fancy private school teased the edges of your memory. A dream you had been living for… a dream that had been strangled so cruelly, so horrendously that even bringing it to the forefront of your thoughts hurt like a slap.
Sam’s palm came up to cradle your face. “Darling, what’s wrong?”
Oh, where would you begin? That word… “Darling.” When he said it, in that voice of his, softer than a feather, it felt like a salve on the wounds and lashes left on your soul.
“I don’t know what to think anymore… I don’t know what to feel, how to feel,” you blubbered.
“You can think whatever you want, feel whatever you want,” he said, softly. “Don’t you see? You’re free now.”
Free. The kids were safe. You were free.
Later, you didn’t remember much except the feel of Sam’s hand running up and down your back. You must have sobbed for hours in that car. Somehow, much later, you woke up with a start and found yourself in bed, still dressed in the white blouse and slacks from the day. You must have fallen asleep on the drive back. Had Sam carried you back upstairs? Right then, you were nestled in his embrace, and he was fast asleep over you, forehead smooth, without a frown line. A love so strong permeated through your body that you understood why Psyche had walked into hell and back to be with her Eros. What would have been the point of surviving without him?
Sam had given you many things– comfort, safety and now your family. But he was right; none of them would last without the freedom he had afforded you today.
Freedom to be.
Freedom to dream.
But most of all, the freedom to love him.
*****************************
A/N 2: We are slowly but surely heading towards the end. I guess less than 10 chapters are remaining now. How are you liking the story?
Please do let me know what you think of this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!
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Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence and murder; reader discretion is strongly advised.
Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?
A/N: Look who is posting regularly now ;)
Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23
The new Mrs. Winchester masterlist
“Miss, you can’t keep waiting by the door for him all day!”
“Watch me,” you muttered and Abby let out a sigh. She must be convinced of your obsessive insanity by now.
“I called Jack and he called Castiel. Mr Winchester will not be back before evening. You will fall sick in this cold.”
“It’s already five… won’t be long before evening. You go on.”
Abby gave you a look that most definitely doubted your sanity but left you at the foot of the staircase where you sat with your book, feet tapping so rapidly, that the anklet Sam had gifted you started to sting.
For the umpteenth time, you wondered what the last, engraved square charm stood for.
Abby had seen you through a week's worth of anxiety but did not know the reason behind it. You knew. Sam was to return today and he had every intention of completely avoiding you and there was no way you were giving him that chance.
Since finding it, you had read Sam’s letter so many times, that the crumpled paper had lost most of its composition and now lay flat, the words already etched in your mind. At first, the pain and sadness in his words riddled you like bullets, but the more time you spent with his words, the angrier you felt about the whole situation.
How dare he apologise for saving you? Stupid, stupid man! How dare he make you fall in love with him even more?
Admitting to the things he’d admitted to couldn’t have been easy… his childhood, how he truly thought himself to be responsible for his mother’s death and then Jo’s. How his father had treated him, and watching his brother, the only family he had known waste away right in front of his eyes just like his father.
You shuddered to yourself, thinking of your Han that way. Dean had an easy-going way about him. If bringing you into the picture had eased his anguish, how could it have been a bad thing? Sam, with his principles, couldn’t forgive himself for the act, but you, who was the one affected by it, wanted to find him and kiss his hands for signing that cheque now. He hadn’t just saved his brother, he had also saved you.
Then there were things he’d admitted to about you.
…but what if I confessed that I liked the fall of your hair…
… I could nearly imagine the feel of your skin, your lips…
A soft shiver ran through your body at the recollection.
If Sam had stripped himself naked before you, he’d have still been less vulnerable. By admitting to the shame he felt over the simple act of choosing you, he’d bared more than you in that godforsaken picture. You understood him now… understood him to the depth of his soul.
But you wished he understood that with all his principles, he was only a man. And he couldn’t keep punishing himself for having the reactions and instincts of one.
…How am I any better than all those men? How could I ever face you after that?
Reading those words? All you wanted to do was climb into his skin, dissolve into his being and hold him so tight, he’d never feel that shame again.
Footsteps echoed outside the door and you got to your feet, the book falling to the ground with a thump. Had you been less lost in thought, you would have realised those footsteps didn’t have the crispness of Sam’s.
“Hey, Honeybun!” Nick smirked. “Waiting for me?”
The air in your throat coagulated then disappeared to nothing seeing his face.
“You are as jawdroppingly gorgeous as ever.”
“And you are just as bastardly,” you heard yourself say. Any other day words might have evaded you, but living through Sam’s anguish over something he had no control over, made you livid at this asshole’s audacity, who hadn’t lost even a second of his sleep over destroying your life.
“Oh, she shows teeth now,” he said silkily.
“Get out of my house,” you hissed. “Get lost before I call the security.”
“And tell them what?” He challenged. “Why you’re kicking Sam’s cousin out? Mary was my mother’s sister, you know. I’m part of the Trust. Or do you not want the people in your house to know about us.”
“There’s no us.”
Nick took a few calculated steps close to you. “Come on now, Y/N. I know you love your secrets, you’ve always thrived in them. Secret siblings in a boarding school. Never thought I would become your dirty little secret, too.” He grinned and you shuddered. “What a privilege.”
He circled you slowly and you pressed into the balustrade, grabbing the handrail.
“Poor little Sammy, does he know how you secretly met his brother at the pier in the middle of the night? That’s right, I saw little Y/N sneaking out in the dark. Do you still have Dean’s leather jacket in your drawer?”
The blood in your vein suddenly ran cold. “S- Sam knows… Dean and I are friends… He knows.”
“Tch Tch Tch,” laughed Nick, the sound grating your brain. “Sam knows his brother thinks of you as his friend. But you tell me, which respectable wife would tiptoe out of the house in the middle of the night to meet a complete stranger? Now good Ol’ Deano knew who you were, but you didn’t know who he was, did he now? So didn’t you lie to your husband about your secret rendezvous with a man?” He sighed dramatically. “What they say is true after all. Once a slut… always a slut.”
“Don’t you…”
“Dare?” He mocked, hands in air. “Does Sammy even know everything you did with me? Did to me? That you’ve gone down on your knees for me and–
The clatter of a briefcase had you jumping out of your skin.
Sam stood over the threshold, face white as a board.
“Sammy!” Nick greeted with glee. “My man! You look ready to drop. Bad trip?”
He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam shirked it away in disdain.
“I was just telling Y/N how wonderful it is to catch up with her after all these years. Did you know we used to date in college? Well, she was in college anyway. I never had time for that shit.”
Nick turned to face you with a grin. “I was telling her how… great she still looks. Doesn’t she?”
At long last Sam’s gaze slid from Nick to you, absolute disbelief etched in his expression.
You stared back helplessly.
When Nick turned back around, Sam had gathered his expression and settled into a perfectly blank face.
“Nick,” said Sam, voice composed. “I had a long flight back and I’m in no mood to see your face when I could have a much better view. I’d much rather be in bed, having dinner with my wife than stand around listening to you reminiscing about things that don’t matter anymore.”
“You knew?” Nick challenged, doubtful.
Sam picked up his briefcase and briskly crossed the distance, surpassing Nick. “I sure remember gagging when Y/N mentioned it in passing. I find it hard to believe she had such terrible taste.” He picked up your fallen book and handed it to you, beginning to take the steps. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do.”
At the top step, he turned and said, “Y/N, come on up. Find Abby and get her to send the dinner up for us. I’m starving.” With that, he disappeared into the corridor.
Shock held you in place for a few moments, but eventually, you turned your back on that grinning bastard and followed Sam up the steps. The door to his room was already closed and when you tried to push it open, the door held.
“Damn it,” you cursed, crossing to the next door and getting into your own room. Things were already as fucked as they could get and this was not how you had wanted Sam to find out about Nick.
Horrifyingly, Sam and Dean now had one-half of the story. Dean knew your boyfriend had sold you to the boss and now Sam knew Nick had been the boyfriend. Only you knew the whole truth and had known it for a while. The mole on the estate that the brothers were searching for had to be none other than Nick. After all how many such assholes could be around? And it made perfect sense now. Nick was part of the Estate Trust, someone who could have easily offered Rosalie a new job, and lured all these women associated with the estate into the flesh trade. Even Jo, who might have just stopped the car to acknowledge Dean’s cousin had paid for that mistake with her life.
The true horror of the situation was how you could tell neither brother the truth because if Dean found out that Nick was the reason his fiance was dead, he would kill Nick and the boss would know. And if Sam found out what your Ex-boyfriend had done… you still remembered the murderous rage in his eyes when he’d found out about Michael inserting hot pins in your heels. If he confronted Nick, the boss would still know. Then what would happen to Jamie and Danny? You’d never see them again.
The sheer helplessness of holding the Ace that Sam and Dean so desperately sought in your hand, and yet unable to hand it to them.
Now, Sam knew and you felt ashamed of what he must be thinking.
Rushing inside the bedroom vestibule, you pushed at the connecting door, but for the first time, found it locked… from the other side.
“Sam!” you banged on the wood. “Open the door.”
Nothing.
“Open the damn door! Let me explain.”
Oh, how the tables had turned. What a wretched feeling to be on the other side, locked out. The medicine did not taste sweet.
“Open the door,” you tried again. “P-L-E-A-S-E”
Except the last word came out as knocks and pats on the wood.
You were about to give up when the door opened and you were only a couple feet away from Sam. Being away from him for an extended amount of time always made you forget just how tall he was and right now the buttons of his shirt appeared more appealing than meeting his eyes.
“What?” Sam asked, point blank, his voice without inflection.
All you wanted to do was close the little distance and hug him, but the two steps in between felt like miles.
“Won’t you invite me in?”
A second passed, and then Sam moved aside. “It’s your house as much as mine. You’re welcome to any part of it.”
Tears pricked your eyes. Sam’s words and tone were polite, but each detached syllable stung like a pin in your heel.
“So this is how it’s going to be?” You remained resolutely at the threshold.
“How?”
Something about Sam’s quiet rage rankled you from the inside. Despite his absence, you felt like you had uncovered more of Sam from Dean’s words and then his letter. Sam had always seemed like an ocean on the verge of breaking into a cyclone, that something always simmered under it, barely restrained, but dangerous all the same. Seeing him now, face cast out of stone, you finally understood how he could have fooled all the staff into thinking of him as a cold man. The truth was that whatever darkness he restrained within him, whether it was anger, fear or hatred, all of that was at its thinnest now. If you pushed, that unhinged darkness, for better or for worse, would come unleashed.
You decided to push it.
Crossing into the room you walked past Sam and took a seat at the edge of the bed. He stared at you. Sam had gone from bad to worse… his skin was shallow and his eyes sunken, looking nearly black in their intensity.
“What do you want, Y/N?”He asked once more, not moving an inch.
“I want to talk.”
“Yeah?” He walked to the bed, towering over you. “Now you want to talk?”
You ignored the question and countered with your own.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
“How much, Sam?”
“Nick’s your college boyfriend.” He took a deep breath and let it out. Calming the sea, keeping the cyclone at bay. “It’s alright. You don’t owe me answers.”
But you weren’t having any of it. “Yeah, he’s the one I told you about on our walk into the forest. My boyfriend from back home. We used to go on long rides on his Harley, cruising through the streets of California on hot nights. He was shacking up in a friend’s place in LA and he’d take me there on Friday evenings all the way to Sunday morning. Just the two of us–”
“That’s.. That’s enough. I don’t want to hear it.” His fists were clenched, tendons standing out white against his skin.
“Why?” You shouted, getting to your feet. “You’re my friend and you told me I can share anything with you. So why not?”
He twisted his body and grasped your shoulder with both his hands, fingers digging into your skin. “You know why!” His sunken eyes were watery, the white tinged with red. “You know why, Y/N. Don’t do this to me, don’t break me like this.”
You finally closed the distance, snaking your arms around his thin waist. “He is nothing but a person from my past. Nothing. Do you understand?”
“Why didn’t you tell me then? You locked yourself for days when you saw him at the inauguration. It’s been a month since and you never said a word.”
Stepping back, you looked up at Sam and admitted part of the truth. “I was ashamed. Seeing him reminded me of my past in the most jarring way, and you’ve been so kind to me, I suppose I needed time to wrap my head around it all.”
Sam peered into your face, scrutinising.
“Believe me, please.”
He deflated just a little, then nodded.
“But him? Really?” His incredulity nearly broke you, but you held your own. “Of all people, Nick?”
Oh, if only Sam knew.
“I was naive and daddy issues are a thing.” You shrugged. “C’mon, let's go to our room. All your clothes are there and you need a shower.”
Taking his hand in yours, you led Sam back over the threshold into your bedroom and closed the connecting door behind you.
He took the room in for a minute then dragged his feet to the walk-in-wardrobe. “I’m not hungry,” he said passing you. “Just call for some coffee.”
You still had Abby bring in some fruits along with the coffee. She sat by you, nibbling on a piece of apple as Sam finished in the shower, then waited long enough to wish Sam a good night when he returned. Sam had stepped out in a thin wet tshirt, hair dripping water into the neckline, and a towel wrapped around his waist. The way Abby averted her gaze, face flaming, gave you an idea.
She left quickly after and you watched Sam put on his drawstring pants and then remove the towel from around his waist. He got on his side of the bed, pulled the covers over his legs and reached for the cup of coffee.
“How do you expect to sleep if you drink coffee right before?” You asked, but then couldn’t help adding. “Not that the thing in the cup is remotely close to coffee. Stop doing business in Bali if this is what they give you in return.”
Sam rolled his eyes while taking a sip. “Enough with the coffee already.”
“It’s such a shame that you came out of the bathroom wearing the t-shirt today. Remember that time you came out with just the towel wrapped around your waist? Short towel, too.”
He drained his cup, put it back on the side table and faced you, brow furrowed. “When?”
“Last time you were here. Great abs. Guess all that working out helps, huh?” You put your fingers on his arm. “And that time we were all wet in the shed? I slipped and fell on you, I could feel the bulk of your muscles. Made my throat go dry.”
Sam gulped. “Why are you telling me this now?”
Very slowly, holding his gaze, you moved to straddle his hips and Sam flattened himself against the headboard, a deer caught in headlight.
“The first time I saw you, Sam Winchester, even through the veil, I knew you were an attractive man and I can’t count the number of times I have found myself staring at your body— the shoulders, the chest, arms, all of it. If you want me to go into details about what seeing you shirtless does to me, you are welcome to be my guest, but the point is, I don’t feel ashamed about it. I don’t feel ashamed about a natural reaction.”
“You read the letter…”
Raising your hand, you gently skimmed the side of his face with the back of it and he closed his eyes at the touch.
“I did, and now you know how I feel. What are you going to do now?”
“It’s different,” he said finally. “You didn’t pay money–”
“You said yourself that you paid the price for my freedom, for a chance to know the truth about Jo and not for my body.”
“You don’t understand–”
“Don’t complicate emotions to the point of no return, Sam. I’ve wanted to kiss you, and I took both of those chances.” You leaned it, face inches away from his now, lips only a whisper away from his. “But you didn’t answer my question. What are you going to do now?”
He opened his eyes, and they smouldered. Sam’s fingers found your hair and fisted in them. He crushed his lips to yours, devouring your mouth. His other hand slid from the base of your throat, down your body, decidedly feeling the shape of you. You followed his lead, rejoicing in it… in the following. His self-control had cracked at last and he was finally staking the claim, he should have staked a long time ago… making the first move, claiming what was his… you.
Maybe it was seeing you with Nick, knowing about your past, or hearing your admission, that had caused the careful wall of self-control that Sam always held around you to crumble. Some of that self-control must have survived because he broke off, breathing hard.
“I’m not going to apologise,” he said.
“You better not.”
Sam smiled, skin stretching over his cheekbones, but it still lit his eyes. “Yes, Ma’am.”
When he slid into the bed, he grabbed your hand and pulled you against his side instead of restricting himself to his end of the bed. “Sleep, Y/N. We have to be up early tomorrow.”
“Yeah?”
“Humour me,” he said. “I have the day planned.”
“Okay,” you agreed readily, then wound your hand around his waist, snuggling as close as you could. Between the two of you much had been said, and even more implied, yet a lot was yet to to be put into words. But Sam was here now and you had all of tomorrow. Right now you simply wanted to savour the feeling of holding the man you loved in your arms and being held by him.
*****************************
A/N 2: I LOVED writing this chapter! The nuances of Sam’s admission and the delicate nature of his emotions were just so damn satisfying to put into words! What did you think?
Oh, I can’t wait to share what’s coming with you!
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Synopsis: you fix Peters science project while he’s out on a date with another girl
Masterlist
You walked by Peter’s room and paused in the doorway. The empty bedroom reminded you of where he was tonight and it send a sick feeling down to your stomach. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air as you looked at all the discarded outfits he had left on his bed.
“I’m not cleaning his stupid room.” You decided and walked away. You were barely halfway down the hallway when you turned and sprinted back to his room to start to put things away. You knew it wasn’t your job to take care of him but you simply couldn’t stop yourself from tidying up. You assumed he’d be getting back late from where he was and probably wouldn’t want to clean up all his clothes just to get into his bed. As you folded a pair of his jeans, you looked up into his vanity mirror and sighed.
“You’re so pathetic.” You told yourself through a groan.
“Stop talking to yourself.” Your reflection replied and pointed at you with a scathing finger. You jumped and looked down to see your finger was pointed as well.
“Right.” You mumbled and left his room.
You then went into the living room and saw Peter’s science project sitting on the couch. He had been building a model of the solar system for weeks now for his astronomy class with a little help from you here and there. All you did was hold pieces together after he glued them but he still insisted that he could not have done it without you. You smiled at the memory of the two of you working on it together and picked it up.
“Why would he leave it where someone could sit on it?” You sighed and moved it to the bar counter in the kitchen. You left the living room to use the bathroom just as Thor was entering the room. He stepped onto a bar stool with ease and took a seat on the counter to eat the apple he had taken from a lunchbox labeled “Sam’s: do not touch”. He munched his apple for a moment before feeling something digging into his back. He sat up a little and pulled a small ball out from under him that was painted to look like Mercury.
“Hm. Thats strange. I don’t remember putting that up there.” Thor frowned as he rolled the planet between his fingers. You walked back into the living room and smiled at Thor until you saw what he was holding. Your heart stopped at the same time your feet did and you let out a dramatic gasp that sent you into a coughing fit.
“Thor!” You exclaimed. “You just destroyed Peter’s science project!”
“These tiny colorful balls were his science project? What was it on? Tiny colorful balls?” Thor asked as he stood up to look at the science project he had completed crushed.
“No. It was a model of the solar system. And you just crushed it. How did you not feel that when you sat down?” You whined as more parts of the project fell from Thors jeans and back into the counter.
“Lady Y/n, you must be mistaken. I’ve seen the solar system with my own eyes. And then I had my eye cut out. And then I had my eye replaced and saw the solar system again. Peters little balls looked nothing like it.” Thor told you, making you roll your eyes up to the ceiling and stamp your feet like a little kid.
“I don’t care about your optic history.” You groaned. “Peter’s been working on it for weeks and your giant butt just crushed it in seconds.”
“Thank you. I eat a lot of yams to get these yams.” Thor smiled at the presumed compliment and patted his thigh. You watched him for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.
“Okay.” You was all you could stay in your effort to remain calm.
“I don’t see what all the petulance is about. If he formed one solar system out of tiny colorful balls, surely he can do it again. All the pieces are right here.” Thor pointed out.
“Yes, but that doesn’t erase the fact that you ruined the project he spent weeks working on. He’s gonna be devastated when he sees this. And who taught you the word “petulance”? Have you been watching The Twilight Zone again? I don’t know why you do that. It always scares you.”
“Never you mind.” He wagged a finger. “I do feel bad for the boy. I’ll collect the tiny balls since it was my behind that crushed them and then Peter can glue them back together.”
“He can’t. It’s due tomorrow and right now he’s on…I don’t know. He’s just busy and he can’t fix it tonight.” You sighed and started to collect the scattered pieces of the project.
“Busy doing what? You’re here and his small balls were finished. What else could the boy be doing?” Thor wondered. You paused for a moment and felt that sick feeling in your stomach again.
“He’s on a date.” You said for the first time out loud since Peter told you his plans for the evening. You’d been quietly stewing all day over it and letting it settle in a massive dark cloud over your head.
“Well I’m sure the man he’s with will be understanding that he has to come home to fix his balls.” Thor told you.
“Stop saying balls!” You scolded. “And the date is with a girl, for your information. A very pretty girl from our business class who smells like a vanilla and my broken dreams.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Lady Y/n. I never knew why but I know that small boy means a lot to you.” Thor said sympathetically and put his hand on your shoulder. You gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his hand.
“Seems like a lot of things are broken tonight.” Thor continued. “Your dreams, Peters balls-“
“Say balls one more time.” You said through clenched teeth.
“Or what? You’ll stab me?” Thor challenged you.
“What? No. Jesus Christ. Who hurt you?” You mumbled and pushed his hand off your shoulder.
“My brother. And then he hurt me again. And then my sister hurt me. And then my brother once more before he died before my eyes. Enough about me, why are your dreams broken?”
“It’s complicated.” You sighed. “Can I tell you something personal?”.
“No.” Thor replied and left the room without another word. You shrugged in defeat and wondered why you even bothered.
“Well that was a fine howdy do.” You mumbled and finished collecting the pieces. You laid out all the broken bits of Peter’s project on the kitchen counter and folded your arms. It would be a lot of work for Peter and you had no idea what hour he’d be getting back. As much as you hated the idea of him being on a date, you more so hated the thought of him coming home happy and his smile falling when he saw what had become of all his hard work.
“I need to fix these balls.” You whispered to yourself. You grabbed Saturn and one it’s broken rings and started to see how you could glue them back together.
“No. I can’t do this.” You said out loud. “I can’t fix every little thing in Peter’s life just to make him happy. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not the one he asked on a date. I’m just a friend.”
You put the pieces down and folded your arms to keep your hands off it. You knew you should walk away, but you couldn’t stop thinking about all the nights you walked past his room and saw him working on the project. He’d put so much effort into it and now it was in pieces on the counter.
“A girlfriend would spend the next few hours working on a project that has no impact on me just to save Peter the trouble. A good friend would feel bad that his work got destroyed and offer condolences when he got home. And I’m a good friend. Not a girlfriend. It’s not my problem. So I’m walking away.” You decided and left the room. You lasted all of three minutes before you ran back into the room with a tube of crazy glue.
“I gotta fix the balls.” You exclaimed and plopped yourself down at the table. Once you organized all the planets and parts of the solar system, you went to Peter’s room to get the sketched out drawing he had made of the project to use as a blueprint. You silently thanked Peter for being so meticulous and followed his sketch to rebuild his project.
Time went by slowly but your hands cramped up quickly as you worked on the model. It was around the time you glued on Saturns 30th moon, you understood why it took Peter so long to complete the project. All the moons and planets looked the same to you so you had to carefully study his drawings and rely on your memory of when you helped him with the project to guide you as you worked. You had to stop every so often to rub your eyes and roll out your wrists to keep them from getting stiff.
You drifted off into sleep at some point when staring at Jupiters moons became a little too mind numbingly boring. Peter got back from his date about midnight and strolled past you on his way to his room. He backtracked when he realized you were asleep at the table and frowned. His completed science project was beside you, save for one missing moon next to Jupiter. His eyebrows knit together in confusion over the sight so he gently shook you awake.
“Hey. You awake?” He asked in a soft tone as he shook your shoulders. You shot up immediately and nearly knocked your head into his.
“I’m not snoring.” You blurted as you pulled the hair that was stuck to your cheek away.
“I know.” He chuckled. “What are you doing here? Why is Ganymede stuck to your face?”
“Why is what?” You asked through a yawn. Peter smiled and pulled the missing moon off your cheek and held it out to show you.
“Ganymede. The largest moon in the solar system.” He told you and put it in its correct spot on the model.
“There is no way you saw a random gray ball stuck to my face and correctly identified it as Gammy meme.” You insisted.
“Ganymede.” He corrected. “And I only know because I labeled them. See?”
Peter pulled the moon back off to show you a tiny G written on the bottom with the word “Jupiter” in parentheses beside it.
“They’re labeled?” You nearly shouted. “Well that would’ve been helpful four hours ago.”
“Four hours? That’s how long you’ve been here? What happened?” Peter frowned and took a seat beside you. You gave him a sheepish smile and looked at the model.
“I’m sorry, Peter. Thor sat on your project by accident.” You admitted. “I’ve been putting it back together ever since. I think I got most of it the way you had it but I never found Pluto. I honestly think it went up his ass and he just didn’t realize.”
“You spent four hours fixing my project?” He asked with a surprised smile.
“Of course I did. I know how hard you worked on this. I didn’t want you to have to start all over.” You told him. He gave you a fond smile and placed his hand on top of yours. Your eyes flicked to your hands and you gulped but said nothing.
“I really appreciate this but you really didn’t have to do this. You should have called me. I could’ve come home and fixed it myself.”
“But I knew you were really excited about tonight. I didn’t want to interrupt your date.” You said without looking at him.
“Well that was very selfless of you. And I hate to tell you this after all the work you did, but the date was bad. I would’ve loved an excuse to leave.” He admitted, making you smile involuntarily.
“It was bad?” You asked and quickly cleared your throat to cover up your smile.
“Woah. Don’t sound too happy.” He snorted.
“What?” You asked in a high pitched voice. “I’m not. Why would that make me happy? But please elaborate anyway.”
“It was bad.” He grimaced. “Like, season 6 of Glee level bad.”
“That bad?” You gasped. “So many forgettable characters. So many odd couple choices.”
“They sang Let it Go. They worked Let it Go from Frozen into the plot and made them sing it.” Peter shook his head.
“That was not the worst for me. The worst was when Mr. Shue rapped Same Love. They let the straight adult rap a song about being gay when the entire cast of queer young people were right there. And wasn’t there a child in the club for some reason? And twins who were lowkey dating?”
“Yep. All of that. And yet, my date was still worse.” He shrugged. You looked down at your lap and smiled a little before quickly dropping it.
“It was that bad, huh?” You asked and tried not to sound too interested.
“So bad.” He sighed. “She was a great girl, don’t get me wrong. We just had no connection whatsoever. She didn’t laugh at any of my jokes and then there were a few times where I thought she was joking so I laughed but she didn’t and then we sat in awkward silence.”
“That’s the worst. I hate awkward silence. I once pretended to forgot the word for “seatbelt” just to keep a conversation going with an uber driver. I kept calling it a strap on.”
“Wait, is that not what a strap on is?” Peter played dumb. “Should we Google it to make sure?”
“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “Keep going. I want to hear more about this awful date with the girl you’ll never see again.”
“There was just no spark. We realized pretty quickly that we didn’t have anything in common. At one point, she asked me if Star Wars was the “movie with the things you can’t feed after midnight”. So I don’t foresee a second date.”
“Wow. She had to have a serious lack of knowledge about two major huge pop culture movies to ask that question.”
“I know. I told her yes and she believed me.” Peter replied, making you laugh. He laughed as well over how ridiculous the whole night had been before stopping to look at you. When your laughter died down and you realized he was staring at you, you smiled shyly and looked over at the project to avoid eye contact.
“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t go well.” You told him. “Maybe the next girl will understand you more.”
“Yeah. I hope so.” He said in a soft voice and never stopped looking at you.
“You’ll have better luck next time. To be honest, I thought the date was doomed as soon as you told me you were going for sushi. You hate raw fish.”
“Because I’m not a seagull.”
“Because you’re not a seagull, yeah.” You laughed. “I think of that every time I eat sushi. I’m no better than those damn seagulls.”
“Don’t say that. You’re way better. A seagull would not have done all this for me.” Peter insisted and gestured to the project. You looked over at the solar system you had given too many hours of your life too and smiled as you realized something.
“I had to fix it. I didn’t want you to be stressed.”
“But didn’t this stress you out? Designing this thing gave me gray hair and premature menopause.” Peter replied, making you laugh softly.
“A little.” You admitted. “But I felt better when I remembered why I was doing it.”
“Why were you doing it?”
“Because I’d do anything for you, Peter.” You said simply. You watched his ears turn pink and he turned his head so that you wouldn’t see his smile.
“I’d do anything for you too, you know.” He said in a quiet voice.
“Careful.” You warned him. “You already owe me big time for fixing this unnecessarily detailed solar system. If you tell me you’d do anything for me, you’re really at my mercy.”
“Uh oh. Sounds dangerous.” He laughed softly. You shared another moment of eye contact and smiled softly at each other.
“It’s late. We should probably get to bed.” You suggested.
“You’re right. Thank you again for this.” Peter said and picked up the project. You didn’t know if you were sleep deprived or delirious from working on the project all night but you felt compelled to share every secret you had with Peter.
“Honestly, Peter, I was happy to do this stupid science project because it kept me from thinking about you on your date.” You told him as you got up and rubbed your tired eyes.
“Really? Why didn’t you want to think about that?”
“Because whenever I did think about you on your date, I wanted to throw up.” You admitted. “And then rip out my hair. And then eat my hair and throw it back up. And then kill my self or something.”
“Well,” Peter said slowly, “I see your urge to rip your hair out and raise you the fact that I only said yes to this date because she wears the same perfume as you. And I needed a night off from staring at the ceiling and thinking about what would happen if I just told you how I felt.”
You stopped mid yawn and gave him a confused look. His eyes were darting everywhere except for your eyes and you could see the rosy glow on his cheeks even in the dim light of the kitchen.
“Oh? And how do you feel?” You wondered and crossed your arms. Peter gulped before sitting up straight in his chair.
“I don’t know. Why did me being on a date make you so upset?” He challenged you. You narrowed your eyes at him and he looked nervous but didn’t back down.
“I asked you first.” You shrugged.
“Well I asked you second.” He replied. “And as Aristotle or whoever once said, first is the worst. Second is the best. Third is the one with the hairy chest.”
“Ew, what?” You grimaced. “It’s treasure chest. Third is the one with the treasure chest.”
“That makes no sense. Why would a person in third place, the very last place, be rewarded with a treasure chest? They’re the loser so they get a hairy chest. Now that’s sensical.”
“No it’s not.” You scoffed. “It makes even less sense. If I come in third place, does that mean my chest will grow hair? Or does it mean I will be given a torso with a hairy chest? Or, hear me out, does it imply that my chest is already hairy. And that’s why I came in third.”
“You did what in third?” Peter mumbled.
“Shut up. Can we get back to what we were talking about?”
“You’re right. We should go to sleep.” Peter said and tried to walk past you. You placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place and he gulped.
“Hold up.” You told him. “I’m cashing in that favor you owe me right now. We gotta talk. Sit back down.”
“I’m sat.” Peter said quietly and sat back down in his seat. You pulled your chair up to be across from him and sat down as well.
“I’m going to ask you again and I don’t want to hear another single reference to chests or placement.” You prefaced. “How do you feel?”
Peter scratched the back of his head to spare some time because he knew he was caught. He suddenly got a shy smile on his face suddenly and looked over at his project.
“Can I show you something?” He asked you as he pulled the sun off the center of the project.
“Dude.” You sighed. “I just glued that.”
“I know. And I’ll fix it. But look.” He said and turned the sun over. You looked at him in confusion and leaned forward to see what he was talking about. On the bottom of the sun in Peter’s hand writing were your first and last initials.
“My initials? Why? You smiled in surprise and looked up at him.
“Because the solar system revolves around the sun.” He explained. “But my solar system revolves around you.”
You stayed quiet as he put the sun back on the model and took your hand. A look of skepticism stayed on your face as he looked into your eyes.
“I know I do a good job of hiding it. But there is a piece of you in everything I do.” He said. “There always has been. This was just one of my more obvious ones.”
“Wow.” You said after a beat. “I really should’ve looked at the bottom of these.”
“Yeah. You should’ve.” He laughed and leaned in a little.
“Yeah. I should’ve.” You cracked a smile and leaned in as well. You stared into big brown eyes for a second and decided this was the last night you and Peter were just friends.
“Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Is it about the solar system?”
“No.” You rolled your eyes. “Did you kiss her tonight?”
“I don’t know. Ask me that question again one minute from now.” Peter said as he closed the gap between you and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer since you’d been waiting for this for a while. And it was everything you imagined it would be. When the kiss started to heat up, Peter slipped an arm around you and picked you up with ease. He hastily placed you down on the counter and you jumped apart when you heard a crunching sound.
You pulled out of the kiss and looked down to see that Peter had placed you directly on top of the science project that you had just spent hours fixing. You both stared at the scattered pieces in stunned silence for a moment before he gave you a sheepish smile. You didn’t smile back and instead stared daggers at him while trying to explode his head using your mind.
“I can fix it?” He said through a nervous laugh. You held your hands up in defeat and hopped off the counter without a word.
“What? That’s how this night ends? Come on.” Peter whined and followed you as you left the room and continued your silent treatment towards him.
“You’re seriously going to walk away after that? We had something going there. Don’t go now.” He whined some more and trotted after you like a puppy.
“Go get something going with the planets I spent the last four hours glueing back together.” You grumbled and held up your middle finger for him to see as he trailed after you.
“Come on.” He half laughed, half groaned. “You can’t send me to bed after a kiss like that. We need to at least talk about it. Let’s go back and…” Peter trailed off when you passed his bedroom and he caught a glimpse of his clean floor.
“Wait, did you clean my room too?” He asked, knowing he had left it a mess before he left for the date. You froze in your tracks for a moment but decided to keep the upper hand instead of admitting to Peter that you were so down bad that you had in fact cleaned his room.
“I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers, Peter. Goodnight.” You said and slammed your door in his face. He barely had time to react before you opened your door back up and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
“Get your ass in here, loser.”
“Don’t you mean get your anus in here? Because it sounds like Uranus?” He said with a proud smile. You stared him dead in the eyes and didn’t crack even a hint of smile.
“Do you want to come in here or not?”
“I already unzipped my pants, yeah.” He admitted as he dashed through your bedroom door.
the thing about dean in hell screaming for sam is it's been like. not even two years since john's death. and according to everything we know about dean, and his relationship with john, it would make complete sense for him to instinctually yell for his dad.
but he screams for sam. dean, who consistently positions himself as the protector, the rescuer, the caregiver in his and sam's relationship. screams for his little brother to come save him, not his parent.
i have a lot of thoughts about this but mostly what it comes down to for me is: when his literal soul is being flayed, it's sam who he places his trust in above all others.
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