On My Case.
Pairing: Sam Winchester X Y/N L/N
Blurb: You've never needed anyone to get on your damn case. You're quite self-sufficient and nice about it: politely, no thanks. And then you go contradict yourself by falling in love with Sam Winchester - go figure.
Tags/Trigger Warnings: Fluff, angst, strangers-to-lovers, pregnancy, mentions of character deaths and Purgatory, mentions of Hell and Lucifer, leviathans, hurt/comfort, insomnia, mood swings, language.
{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }
On My Case: Part 1.
Greenville, Illinois hosted you for the new case.
The cursor stared back at you with ridiculous accusations of how blank your mind is reflecting the blank page. Your eyes fought for dominance against sleep that threatened to pull your mind in it's dreamy shackles. The tick of the seconds hand on the clock reminded you that you hadn't slept in days - yet again.
Insomnia had claimed you years ago, but bouts of sleep pulled you under now and again, spaced out over weeks.
You checked your cell again. Your digital clock gave a number to the ticking one with dots across the room against a wall.
No missed calls, or texts.
But what were you even expecting?
It's not like the answers were going to just pop on your screen like they once used to - when Bobby was still around.
You minimized the word document you had been journaling your last case in, from three days ago - while it was still relatively fresh in your mind; but it was just an excuse to avoid research on the new one.
This case was something about the tourists going missing like a clockwork: four people, every six months, for over three years now.
You picked your mug to sip on the coffee, but pulled in air. Huffing, you detached your ass from the chair, and stretched up straight, stifling a yawn as you headed over to pour yourself another cup of good ol' joe. You groaned when the Keurig spluttered but a few drops of the water-like composition. You dropped the mug in the sink, and unceremoniously did away with the useless machine.
You snatched the sweatshirt from the back of your chair and donned it over your shoulders unflatteringly as you marched out into the cold night.
The parking lot beyond was deserted, and the uncomforting lights overhead flickered. You patted your loveable gun on the way to the reception area down the line, straight ahead, past all the other little cabins that were part of this lowly motel.
You pulled up your hood to let the shadows cover your face as you passed the receptionist who was dozing off at his desk, drooling down on the registry that made you scrunch your nose in disgust.
You turned the last corner, and there was the vending machine you'd thought you'd spied earlier.
Quickly, you hassled half a dozen coffees out of it, broke the seal on the first one to take a sip. 'Not much better than Keurig, but you'll do,' you muttered to yourself.
As you were ready to turn back towards your room, two long shadows blocked your path. And to match them, two large men joined you in the reception area.
Your face was hidden mostly, but you could make out the flannel and washed-out jeans. It was only a second, but you also noticed their faces - handsome, handsome men they were, you couldn't help but notice as you walked away.
Rolling your eyes to your thoughts, you entered your cold room - courtesy of a broken heater, and proceeded to waste away your night in the laptop's light, and coffee's company.
If only you knew that your life was about to change forever.
Bars didn't hold much attraction for you - but in a small town like this where everyone knew everyone, bars tended to bring the furred and feathered townies in. Simply on principle - the popular ones have to show face on a daily basis. Not to mention, all of your tourists have also been picked up from here.
You nibbled on your drink, a house-special margarita that earned you a dirty-look from the tender when you requested it non-alcoholic.
Ah, well.
'Y/N, hey!' a voice called you. You turned with surprise to note your best friend. You barely had time to shove your drink to safety when she wrapped her arms around you.
You greeted her with a laugh, 'B/F!'
She pulled away to look you over with a questioning brow. 'Dressed to impress, I see,' she levied her sarcasm.
You rolled your eyes with a pout. 'What's wrong with my sundress? It's cute!'
'It's the same one you've been wearing for five years, Y/N,' she gave you a wry look. 'Shopping is still a socially acceptable activity, honey.' She slid onto the barstool beside you, and ordered two beers.
'Ah, I'm trying not get drunk,' you told her.
'You're working?'
You hummed, sipping your sugary substance and grimacing, before pushing it away altogether.
'And here I thought your dry streak had finally driven you to a decent bar.'
'It's not a dry streak if it doesn't bother me, B/F,' you chided.
It was her turn to roll her eyes. 'Just because Devon was a bad apple doesn't mean you should boycott the man-kind, sweetie.'
You chuckled, 'Are we hear to talk about my crap love life? Or are you going to tell me what you're doing in town yet?'
She narrowed her gaze at your clear deflection but let it slide. 'Passing. Garth called, he needed help with something. Thought I'd make a pitstop before driving for another seven hours straight.'
'Oh, you looking to crash?'
'Nah,' she sighed. 'Just a drink, and probably a game to last my sanity. Bobby's replacement thought it would be a good idea to pair me up with Saltz.'
'Yikes,' you winced. 'Garth is still learning the ropes though - cut him some slack, he'll learn the internal relations amongst us.'
She gave a non-committal hum, drowning her own beer, and taking the one she ordered you to give it the same fate.
You understood that feeling. Saltz was probably the last person B/F wanted to see in this life - but Garth's innocence was yet to be bothered by the broken and tense relationships of hunters with one another.
Just another instance where you were reminded of Bobby. You eyed the beer enviously, wondering just how dedicated you were to staying sober.
Before you could decide, the bar doors blew wide open, and chill air seeped in for a second as two familiar giants granted the dull bar their grandeur presence.
You recognized them from the night before, but you could finally look at them properly.
The shorter one of the two had spiky dirty-blonde hair, mischievous eyes that danced with mirth as he took the bar scene in, he had gorgeous legs that went on for days, and had visible bow-shape to them when he walked. Your breath may have stuttered.
But it disappeared when you noticed the taller man. Chestnut brown pullable hair, stubbled face, full-equipped innocence in the form of permanent puppy-dog eyes, broader shoulders you could easily imagine clinging onto like a cat finding purchase on the edge of a bathtub. Sincerity exuded from his very being, and you sincerely wanted to kiss him.
They looked like the perfect duo of chaos and calm, of glee and grace, of fun and seriousness.
'Wow,' B/F said, finding it hard in herself to pick up her jaw from the floor. You shared that sentiment, even wondering if you were too obviously drooling as the compelling presences walked by you.
You didn't want to look away when you said: 'Okay, even I'll admit - they're hot.'
'Hot?' Her head swiveled in your direction. 'More like sex-on-legs-come-Greek-Gods.'
You giggled a bit. 'Okay, enough of the objectification. They're humans at the end of the day.' You still sneaked a glance, before forcing yourself to turn away. 'Plus, you don't have time for that; you have an asshole to put in place.' You slid off the stool, tugging at her wrist to get her to stop staring.
She huffed. 'Dude, screw the hunt, how many times am I gonna have the chance to ogle, and maybe take Dean Winchester home? Sam, too, if he's game!' she practically growled.
Your eyes widened in surprise. 'Winchesters? How d'you know?'
'Oh, saw them leaving Bobby's once,' she shrugged. She sighed then, looking like she'd just aged ten years. 'I'm gonna miss them,' she pouted.
You had to restrain the laugh that was begging to bubble out. 'Hold the phone. You're telling me, that the shorter guy there - Dean; he's the Lord of playboys, the one who wrote the gospel on hit-'em-and-leave-'em?'
'Uh huh,' she murmured dreamily, 'I'd worship him. Get on my knees right now.'
You snorted. 'Dude, you're vulgar.'
'Hey!' she exclaimed. 'No hate on the religion!'
This time you full-on laughed. 'Alright, alright!' Then, you lowered your voice, '. . . What do you know about Samuel there?'
She finally tore off her gaze to eyeball you with interest. 'Oooh, am I sensing the beginnings of a crush here?'
You rolled your eyes despite the light blush that dusted your cheeks and neck. 'I don't even know him! I'm just . . . I'm curious is all.'
'Aw, well. So, he's the more mature one, I guess. I mean, legend has it, that he kickstarted the apocalypse, but everyone says he's real nice. I dunno. Sweet, kind, considerate. In general, though, be wary of them, because Winchesters carry their own woes.'
You whistled. 'Look at you, becoming a poet.'
'I have my inspiration right in front of me,' she said cheekily, gazing back at the Winchesters.
You shook your head at your best friend, and finally pulled her along with you. 'Let's get you to the car before you get drunk on more than them beers.'
You could've almost sworn she whined, but the grouse followed you nonetheless. You deposited her in her car, when she asked. 'Wait, weren't you working on case in there?'
You smirked. 'Yeah. But I have a feeling I'm not the only one anymore.'
'Oh, yeah!' she realised. 'Man, I think they're gonna fight with you on that one - I've rarely heard of them working with someone they stumble across.'
'So I've heard,' you nodded. 'Don't worry, I'll handle them. It was good seeing ya, bud.'
'You, too. Keep your nose clean, eh?'
'Yeah, and you, your head down.'
She pulled away after a few waves and disappeared into the night. You wrapped your arms around yourself against the cold, before walking the few miles to your motel.
You got the news from the corner you'd met two days ago. The second victim of the week. Halfway through the six-month cycle, you'd noted with sadness. Not much of the body was left, just the nitty-gritties. A lone woman traveler - new to town, last seen at the Anchor Bar.
With slight upset, you wondered if you'd perhaps seen the girl yesterday at all during your own visit. Slightly dwelling on the fact that maybe if you'd stayed, you could have saved her.
Then, the more rational part of you interrupted the self-hate and assured you that you did what you thought was best. And it wasn't like you wasted time by leaving the bar to the Winchesters, you got a huge headway on the research, ultimately contributing to productively.
You ducked under the police tape, unsupervised. The leftovers of the body had been dumped along the same road on the side of Shoal Creek where this killer usually disposed of them.
The first Officer who noticed and recognised you. 'Agent,' he greeted.
'Officer Freely, thank you for calling me.'
'Yeah, the victim matches the profile, I thought you'd wanna see for yourself. The body is so dismembered, we're just trying to . . . piece her together first,' he grimaced. 'Most of the skin, essential organs . . . gone. Even the bones have been chewed at.'
You felt bad for her, your resolve to get her justice only hardening. 'Can I have a look?'
''Course,' he stepped aside to let you examine.
The sight was horrible, only long time hunters could've probably stomached it the way you did. The poor girl must have been in so much pain, even most of the hair and nails were gone as the on-site corners assembled the eroded bones. The corners debated that she was also skinned before she was killed, and you shuddered with sheer empathy.
You stared around for a long time, from many angles, but were disappointed when that yielded nothing.
You requested for the personal belongings acquired, and sifted through the bag, grabbing her purse. Just as you were about to invade the dead person's privacy, your ears perked up at two new sounds.
'FBI? What, are you having a parade or something?' an ancillary Officer scoffed. 'Your friend is already here.'
You schooled your smirk and glanced up at the two "agents" who were now nervously walking towards you.
You gave them your hand. 'Hi, Agent Granger. You are?' You shook Dean's hand first, then Sam's, holding his for a second longer than you meant to.
'Agent Page and Agent Plant,' Dean introduced, gesturing between the two with a fake polite smile.
'Where from?' you interrogated.
'Washington,' the brothers said simultaneously with practice coherence.
You acted surprised. 'Head-office! Really? No one told me they were sending reinforcements.'
They looked trapped, quickly exchanging a fleeting look before Dean bristled with fake authority. 'Look, Agent, I don't know who sent you, but maybe you should talk to our Director—'
'So that your "guy-in-the-chair" can cover for you?' you brusquely interrupted. 'I don't think so, Dean.'
They both shifted uncomfortably. 'How do you know us?' Sam addressed you for the first time.
You decided to tease them longer: 'I saw you in the bar last night . . . something about your faces. A search on the police database told me what was weird with your appearances - ya looked a little too alive.'
They both tensed, and if you hadn't practiced reading the victim's, and their families for years, you might have missed the subtle shift in their body language. You wondered if they'd make a run for it.
'Alright,' Dean took the reigns in his hands, and you pegged him as the take-charge guy of the duo. 'Let's make a deal. Officer, lives are at stake here. We'll explain everything, just let us finish this case—'
'So that you can run away? N'uh-uh!' Then, you broke your boss-bitch routine to allow yourself a smile. 'If you want a deal, you take me to drinks, after we solve this case together, hunters.'
They both blinked, once again, exchanging looks of astonishment. 'You're a hunter?' Sam confirmed.
'Your partner for the case,' you grinned. 'So, tell me, did you see our victim leave with someone last night?'
Dean shook his head, raising a hand, 'Wait, so . . . No, wait. I don't think we're working together, Lady.'
'Y/N L/N,' you supplied. 'Thought you'd say that. That's why I took the liberty to finish up on research last night while you staked out the bar.'
Sam snorted in amusement, a sparkle lighting up his otherwise tired eyes. Up this close you could finally notice how worn down he truly looked. The black circles almost made his hazels look like caramel islands struggling not to drown in the obsidian seas.
Dean just looked annoyed. 'We didn't ask you do that.'
'Oh, yeah? And who would've done the research? You, Mr. Playboy, or him, Mr. Dark Circles?' Your soft eyes met Sam's. 'I mean, seriously. Are you okay?' you asked him, almost demanding.
The nurturer in you was bristling for someone so exhausted.
Sam looked shocked that you'd outright ask him that. And Dean was even more annoyed.
'All I'm saying is we could've survived without your help, thanks.'
'Dean,' Sam said in a placating tone.
And you suddenly realized that they were having a silent conversation that you weren't privy to. A small smile plumed your countenance, it was nice to see them close - encounters like this often gave you hope that one day you'd have the same with someone.
Someone who unlike the cheating scumbag of your one and only ex-boyfriend, Devon, would care about you. Someone who would care enough to get to know you till the point that you two could have silent conversations.
'Look,' Sam was the one that talked this time. 'We appreciate the help. It's just . . . we're not used to other people working with us.'
You smiled a little. 'I'm sorry about Bobby,' you softly said, something that had them correcting their surprise and shock once more at the change of topics. 'But after him? There's only a few of us left to be experts at this - we gotta keep his legacy going, man, we gotta work together. I understand not wanting to let a person you don't trust tag along for a life-and-death fight. But I was here first. So, either you work with me, or you don't work. I'm flexible,' you smirked. 'Let me know what you decide. I'm staying at your motel; Cabin 'oh-2.'
Stepping away to give them some breathing room, you informed Freely of your departure and told him that you're borrowing the evidence bag before stopping next to Winchesters one last time. 'Dean?' The brothers looked at you with annoyed expressions. 'Nice wheels,' then your tone was pushed to an edge, 'It'd be a pity if they land in police custody.' They raised their brows, faces hardening, so you pacified, 'If you rat me out, I'll not be morally opposed to take you down with me,' you ended on a wink.
Then, you left.
You smirked when a knock sounded in your room. As expected, two giants crowded your entrance.
'We're in,' the Giant Handsome told you, while his older brother, the Giant Annoyed just huffed slightly, practically pushing you aside to walk in before you could invite them yourself.
'Make yourselves at home,' you welcomed them and shut the door after a sweep of the parking lot - an old hunter's habit. Only Dean's car was in the lot now - no other guests, you assumed, or guests like you who didn't have cars. You hadn't seen anyone else, so you couldn't be sure.
Both the brother's had dressed identically even if the colour aesthetics differed by a large margin: flannels, jeans, boots, and jacket; and where Sam went with lighter, calmer tones than Dean who was all dark and mysterious. You immediately gravitated to the safer option.
'Motel, sweet Motel,' Dean quipped as he plopped down into the hard chair, pushing away your research papers with little to no care - and you had to bite your tongue not to chide him. Sam, apparently more considerate, arranged the papers and, much to your appreciation, piled them in a corner to sit opposite his brother with his arms crossed on the table.
You bypassed them, and brought two plates out in the open space. You'd been prepared with extras, knowing they'd fold. You stationed the dishes in front of them, much to their surprise.
'Olive Branch,' you smirked. 'Even though I have a feeling you get it, protect your territory and whatnot.'
'You didn't have to order,' Sam said, though he eyed the food hungrily.
You beamed, 'Good that I didn't. I cooked.'
'In this shithole?' Dean raised a brow. 'Sweetheart, no way you had the stuff to make this here.'
'I'm resourceful,' you argued. 'Just eat! Leave the worries of the culinary world to me.' You pulled the third and last chair back, sitting on it and pulling one of your knees up so your foot was on the seating surface and you could rest your cheek on your knee.
Dean shrugged as he went in for a tentative bite, ending up moaning at the first that made you giggle with a blush.
'Um,' Sam hesitated.
'Worried I'm trying to poison ya?' you asked with a teasing smirk.
'I just—'
'He's a health freak,' Dean said around a mouthful. 'Damn, this is good.'
'Don't worry,' you assured Sam, 'me, too. If there's one thing I don't compromise money on - it's food. The rice are sugar-watchers, vegetables sauteed in clarified butter, and that's homemade cheese and cottage cheese I used to make the vegetarian steak. The glycemic indices tend to fly low in my meals.'
The brothers just exchanged an impressed look. You basked in it.
Sam hesitantly dug in.
'Oh, my God,' he groaned. 'That's good!'
Your body shook with shy laughter under your oversized shirt that was swallowing you up in this position, and your sweatpants were barely peeking from under it. But you were too lazy to wear anything but your comfy clothes, even for company.
You'd never change for anyone in your own room.
'I can't believe I like eating vegetables,' Dean exclaimed, and you laughed harder.
And as the ice broke, you let the brothers dig in a little - wondering when was the last time they got a homecooked meal. But you didn't pry, letting them enjoy while you felt proud of yourself.
'Alright!' you bend forward to retrieve the notepad you'd scribbled all your notes on. 'So, I hit a dead-end on the purse,' you informed. 'But I talked to the corner, and she told me that the bite marks were too . . . basic. Like, it didn't seem to belong to a carnivore or an omnivore.'
'Rules out werewolves.'
'And vampires,' added Sam.
'Right, because they have advanced set of teeth for precisely this. I thought what kind of herbivore would be doing this? But the search is still too elaborate.
'So, I tracked down the victims over the years. No connection between families, age, social circles - total strangers, except, their origin. These people may have grown up in different places, but all their families can be traced back to Greece at one point or another.'
'When did you get here?' Dean asked, shocked.
'Um, Monday?'
'You got all this in three days?' Sam raised an inquisitive brow.
'Honey, I got all that in on my drive over,' you boasted. 'Now, what took me time was the Greek-i-ness of it all,' you flicked your hand to the long tower of research books. 'I had to get the books shipped in from a specialist. I finished them today—'
'All of them?' Dean's voice upped a decibel and you couldn't help the smirk that edged onto your face.
'I'm a fast read. I love reading, actually.'
'Me, too,' Sam leaned in with interest.
'Oh, yeah. Classics? Oooh! Fiction or non-fiction?!'
He chuckled. 'Uh, most days, it's purely research. But when I get time, I read documentaries.'
'Watches them, too,' Dean uttered with disgust.
'No! Have you seen "My Octopus Teacher"?'
'By Criag Foster,' Sam nodded. '"The Elephant Whispers"?'
'Uh, yeah! Only a dozen times,' you scoffed. '"Home"?'
'That's French,' Sam pointed out.
'Well, yeah. Have you seen it or not?'
'I tried,' he chuckled.
'Alright, lovebirds,' Dean interjected. 'Want to share the loot?' he raised his chin to the stack of books.
'Right!' a blush flamed your cheeks, you cleared your throat. You beckoned your laptop as Sam and Dean wolfed down their dinner. You finished typing and turned the laptop towards them. 'I'm 84% sure it's Geryon.'
Their eyes scanned your find. 'Known for being a giant, has three bodies, or a single one with three heads and hearts. He used to feed tourists of his farm to his cattle. I was skeptical about the cow thing, but the dental results came back, late last night, and they were shocked to tell me that indeed, it was the cows.
'Fun fact, Hercules was sent, as his tenth labour, to capture a cow and bring it back!'
'I didn't see any fun there.'
You levelled Dean with a dry look. 'Well, maybe you'll revel in knowing that Hercules killed the man for the first time - with an arrow.'
'That's the only way to kill him?' Sam inquired. 'That's easy.'
'I mean, the arrow has to go through all three of his hearts at the same time.'
'Okay, so now we just find the bastard,' Dean clapped his hands together. 'Is there more of this veggie delight you forced me to like?'
You smiled a little, 'Kitchen. Warm it up first!'
As Dean left, you turned to Sam who was playing with a stray broccoli. His brows were furrowed, deep in thought.
'We didn't see a really tall guy, or anyone even mentioning triplets or something at the bar last night. I mean, this is a small town, right? We should've heard something in the interviews of the locals.'
'Essentially, he's the same guy, so I doubt anyone even knows that there's different bodies. Maybe, the other two do leave, but you know same name, same face. He could even have been sending a completely new person to fetch those unsuspecting fellows.'
'You think someone is helping him?'
'Possible. Like a farmboy or something. A ranch hand. A cowboy.'
'You called?' Dean's head popped in.
You looked between Dean's smug expression, and Sam's exasperated one before snorting in amusement.
'He has a cowboy fetish,' Sam rolled his eyes as Dean slid into his seat again with a healthy serving that made your heart flutter - you weren't used to having anything you did appreciated. You wondered if Sam would like some more, too.
You shook your head to yourself. 'Anyway, how is it possible that four tourists with ancestral Greeks end up in the same town, around the same time? I mean - some of the vic's families hadn't inhabited their motherland in years.'
'So, you think he's summoning them somehow?' Dean pieced together.
'That would make sense,' supplied Sam. 'We went back to the bar today after hitting the corner's—'
'Ah, Corner Hornset. Mean old lady.'
'Understatement. She refused to tell us anything because she'd already talked to you.' Dean eyed you with a little irritation and you just shrugged innocently. 'I don't even know how you got her to talk at all.'
You chuckled. 'I'm very persuasive.' You gestured to the food they were eating.
'Right,' Sam grinned, moving onto his next point. 'But we did see the footage from last night at the bar. Alexandra, here, our latest vic, only talked to the bartender. So, we questioned him, too.'
'All he had was that she wouldn't stop scribbling in her diary. So, obviously our next step was the only hotel in town.'
You nodded along; this was the only cheap motel, nearest to the town, and since you couldn't afford the hotel in the town, you had come here.
'But we didn't find anything.'
The brothers exchanged a look suddenly, and Dean turned towards you with a non-harmful accusation in his eyes.
'Unless you took it.'
You smiled, 'Guilty. I swept the place before you guys must have gotten there, I guess. I was getting to the diary part - but I haven't read it yet.' You rushed to your bag, and produced the book. 'Ta-da!'
'Okay, I'll give you this: you're good at research.'
You mock-gasped. 'Alert the media, I got a compliment from a Winchester! I'm famous!' You placed your hands over your heart like it might explode of happiness.
The theatrics made the brothers laugh as you unwound the string, and flipped quickly through the pages as they finished dinner. Sam insisted on cleaning the dishes when you said you carried the utensils with you, a side-effect of having cooking as a passion. Whereas Dean brought his weapon's bags from the trunk of his "Baby" - as you learnt he called his car, and started cleaning them before the hunt.
Most of the writings were in Greek, with only bare minimum English words interspersed into the text - so you translated to the best of your abilities and were done with late into the second hour of beginning it.
'I found an address!' you announced.
'Then let's get this show on the road.'
The hunt went with but a few hitches. It was early morning hours, and you all had your own Geryon to have your hands full with until the man got annoyed himself by the three pesky humans, and merged into one giant person himself - growing in height till even the roof of his house was too small to contain him.
With some quick thinking, Dean had played distraction to pull his attention away from you and Sam. The younger Winchester had thrown you the long stick of a lamp that sported a jagged end, and you had jumped the guy's shoulders as the brothers threw small home appliances in the man's eyes to let you sink your weapon through his chest.
Thanks to your calculating eyes, the weapon had been stabbed straight through. Who knew Geometry and shit would come handy while offing a Greek monstrosity?
The giant had fallen forward and you'd only been saved from crashlanding when Sam pulled you into his embrace the last moment - his incredible reflexes keeping you safe in the steel bands he called arms, pulling you away from danger.
As the body melted into a swirl of ashes as you'd come to learn most Greek monsters did - you heard a faint mooing of the cows where they ceased to exist along with their Master.
With the successful hunt under the belt, you three decided to hit a bar to celebrate, and to get to know each other better.
After "sleeping" through the afternoon, you three met on your door, and took the Impala to a bar in another town, a few ways away so that no suspicion befell you three. You three bought new rooms at a new motel and then went to party the night off.
As it turns out, the brothers had several stories to provide a depth to the already gaping stitches in your side. Their bickering only added to the hilarity of the night - right up until Dean split his difference and took the bartender to the nearest motel.
One on one, you couldn't believe what an incredible human Sam was.
He didn't dwell much on the past, though you sensed a lot of heartbreak there. He mostly talked about the mellow moments, and the niche ones of his life. How it was growing up, with his father, and his brother. Soon, it also ended on the apocalypse times.
You added the view of the other hunters there, and what you yourself thought when you'd heard about them - and how they barely matched the description. How the legend didn't even begin to scratch the surface of their true personalities.
He asked about you and your life.
You found there was a sea of commonalities between the two of you. You discussed your favourite documentaries, books, movies, languages, even college.
'A lawyer?'
He nodded. 'Before . . . well, I lost my college girlfriend to a fire.'
Your smile dropped, and you rested your hand on his, scooting a little closer. 'Natural?'
'No,' he hesitated. 'The same demon who killed my Mom.'
You squeezed his hand. 'You're like a Phoenix,' you replied with a thoughtful note.
A ghost of a smile danced across his lips. 'A Phoenix?'
'Uh huh. No matter how many times you succumb to the fire, you'll rise again . . . won't you, Sam?'
He averted his gaze as darkness grew in the shadows of his hazels. 'I don't know about that. Sometimes, the inferno is too strong.'
You had a feeling that he was no longer talking about the same thing that you were. He released your hold, and sighed. 'You know what - let's call it a night?'
Somehow, you felt like you'd said something wrong. You couldn't stave off the nagging disappointment that accompanied it, but you nodded your agreement anyway.
You two walked back towards the outskirts, a few miles from the bar which was right at the edge of the town, and it was mostly silent. But nothing awkward.
Despite that one moment, you two were walking comfortably beside each other, and halfway through, you glanced up at the tall man - a sort of safety enveloped you the longer you kept your gaze on him.
Why did you feel like you'd never be in danger as long as he was beside you?
You were overreacting, right? You barely knew the man!
You, however, still blushed to yourself at the cozy safety and the humbling warmth. Luckily, the moonlight was too dim to alert Sam of your schoolgirl crush that you may have gained from your conversations at the bar.
You looked down at another sundress you'd chosen to wear - you didn't even try to be all glitter and glam, and you prided yourself on the soft beauty and subtle features. You yellow sundress hugged you where it needed to, spreading out in flourish when you moved a bit too quickly but only leaving you with clean grace and elegance.
The only downside you could admit was the pinch of the cold. So, when you brought your hands up to yourself, Sam was quick to notice.
Without a question, he extracted himself from his beige jacket, and before you could even show signs of protest, you were being engulfed in the soft material, encapsulated in his heady scent, and enamoured by the heat that simply enhanced his consuming presence.
'Thanks,' you mumbled, too flustered to bring out any objection.
He smiled, scratching his neck a bit as he pulled his lower lip into his whites. 'How'd you get into hunting, Y/N?'
You loved how your name rolled on his tongue.
'I was writing a thesis about how the myths came to be. There are certain things in our lives that are incomprehensible, and my theme was that stories are forged to bridge the gap of sense and nonsense. I may have researched more than what was required and ended up on Bobby's porch - leading me to pester him till spilled his guts.
'I was too enchanted to leave,' you shrugged.
'So, you're telling me you chose this?' Sam seemed incredulous.
'Sam, if we started hating things because of their pitfalls, we'd love nothing in this world.'
He paused to let that sink between you two. 'Hunting has always just brought our family pain,' he quietly said. 'Even now I-I . . .' he clenched his jaw, and gulped.
You interlaced your fingers with his, and his lips parted in surprise, looking down at you with torture in his eyes.
'I understand,' you murmured. 'To tell you the truth . . . hunting did leave me with insomnia, and nightmares. I guess, it's not easy - but that's not a reason to stop loving it. It's like a relationship, a job - you hate it, you love it, but you always do it.'
'That's a terrible pun,' his lips twitched.
You chuckled. 'True. Although, I'm better at ironies, if you're interested.'
He squeezed your hand. 'You're an incurable optimist, huh?'
You grinned, 'What gave me away?'
You two chuckled. He released your hand in reluctance, and you sensed that he may not be too much of a touchy-feely guy.
You'd reached the new motel that Dean's car was already stationed at and Sam walked you to your door.
You turned your back to the door so that you were trapped between Sam's enormous chest and the rough wood. You smirked as you got on your toes and kissed his cheek, veering your lips to his ear and whispering, 'Thanks for tonight. I had fun.'
He was slightly bashful when you pulled away. 'Me, too,' he meekly ducked his head, combing a hand through his hair. 'Um, you know . . . even I can't sleep,' the hesitance in his eyes told you that it was hard for him to admit.
'You got insomnia, too?' your eyebrows inched towards your hairline.
'Kinda,' his embarrassed eyes darted away before meeting yours again. 'I, I went to Hell,' his breath hitched, almost cracking, as he reveled something vulnerable of his to you, 'to stop Lucifer. My soul was in that dog's bowl for a year and a half - when Dean put my soul back in . . .' he struggled to continue, gaining gloss in his orbs. 'I just haven't been able to . . . The devil's always in my head, you know?'
'Oh, honey, that's awful,' you whispered, letting your hands brace against his shoulders, empathy welling in your eyes. 'I can't even imagine what that must have felt like.' You could see that he was trying to downplay it by shrugging, and an instinct also tipped you off that he didn't often esteem someone with such a personal detail.
'It's . . . I was wondering, since we both won't sleep,' he awkwardly chuckled. 'And I can't go back to my room anyway . . . Would you like to spend more time . . . with me?'
A beaming smile answered him. You opened the door and let him in after a nod. Your duffel was still on the couch, untouched after your hasty packing earlier in the day to get out of the previous town.
Sam took a seat on the table, and you took the one opposite him; and you two might as well have not stopped talking at all.
Beers were broken out, more laughs were shared, more views were given, and you two ended up on the bed to get a reprieve from the hard chairs. Even though the mattress wasn't much improvement from the wood, it was still softer, and you two lay on your sides with some space in between to keep talking well into night.
Sam couldn't believe how long he had gone without Lucifer disrupting his reality - he didn't even have to use the hand scar thing-y this time. He was amazed to see the effect you had on him, and that too, just in under a freaking day!
Your new opinions, your happy outlook, and your dry humour was too good to be true. It was not something he'd have expected when you sassed them into submission the other day. In fact, when Sam and Dean begrudgingly decided that you'd earned the upper-hand, the only reason they'd decided to tag along with you was because they worried for your life and if you weren't good enough to hold your own.
They quickly learned that you were a well-endowed hunter. Any misconceptions of your inabilities to take care of yourself faded away in the first hour of your company.
And now he finds out that you're sweet, kind, funny, smart, sexy, and voluntarily sacrificing your shot at normal. If he could've just shot across to you and kissed you senseless, he would've.
For first time in years, he's afraid that he'll fall for someone again.
It never truly crossed his mind after Jessica. Sure, there were girls now and again, but you . . . you were just . . . .
As if he wasn't awed enough, it was to the melody of your voice that his eyes started drooping. With a smile on his face, he found himself relaxing. He didn't browse on that though, worried he'd jinx it - or worse, he was imagining it.
But in reality, he was falling asleep; his fingers clinging to your hand from when he caught it and just didn't let go - the touch made him feel calm, although he usually refrained from doing that upon meeting someone for the first time, he just couldn't help it now. Handholding you was somehow acting as his theter and he was hooked.
You would have been surprised that he fell asleep, if your eyes hadn't been drawing shut as well.
You lazily drew the blankets over the two of you when Sam started snoring, your body already half-asleep, then you snuggled a bit closer to him to fit under the scratchy material that you couldn't be bothered by just because it had managed to pull the two of you closer.
Sam woke up with a mousy frame attached to his front, his arm curled around the warm body. His bleary eyes fluttered a few times, smiling faintly when he saw you nuzzling his arm under your head peacefully. His heart rate picked up a hitch, but he controlled his feelings.
Albeit a bit reluctant, but he let you go. Carefully, he deposited you back deeper into the sheets, amused that you showed no signs of waking up.
Feeling more fresh than he had in days, he decided to pop in real quick in his own room, and left you a small note with his whereabouts. Then he crossed the corridor, and knocked on the door to be sure.
'Come in,' Dean's muffled voice announced.
Sam peeped in after jiggling the unlocked doorknob and pushing the door in. Dean was already sipping on his coffee with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. 'Walk of shame, party of two!' he cheered.
Sam predictably rolled his eyes, shutting the door after himself. 'Dude, I didn't sleep with Y/N.'
'Why not?' Dean's smile dimmed. 'The chick was totally gunning for ya!'
'We just slept in the same bed,' Sam admitted, trying to be casual about it.
Dean's brows shot up in surprise. 'You slept?'
Sam shrugged, his own smile growing. 'Yeah. And we talked all night before that.'
'Aw, Sammy has a little crush,' Dean cooed as he poured one mug of coffee for Sam.
Sam accepted the drink, decidedly ignoring the teasing, though even he had to hide a smile behind a sip. 'How'd your night go?'
Dean's grin was back full-force. 'Awesome. We tried some new stuff, she was trying to put herself through dance school or something - there were ribbons.'
Sam regretted asking when his imagination hurried to paint pictures in his head to match Dean's words. 'Gross.'
'Anyway, she left early, woke me up so I found us a new case.'
Sam's heart and lips dropped. 'Oh.'
Dean read between the lines, another huge smile gracing him. 'If you want to ask her to join . . .' Dean trailed off with purpose.
Sam scowled deeper. 'You don't mind?' he skeptically checked.
'Getting laid is the solution to all the problems in life, Sam,' Dean uttered philosophically.
The younger brother's nose scrunched, 'It's really not.'
'Well, it gives you courage to face life,' Dean huffed. 'Look, she's a pain in the ass . . . but I guess I can make an exception.'
As if on cue, there was a knock to their door. Sam jumped forward to open it even when Dean was closer, and with a check through the peephole, he was delighted to see you smiling on the other side. He opened the door, and welcomed you in, though his grin faltered when he noticed the duffel strapped across your shoulder.
Still in your sundress from the night before, just with a jacket on top, you looked ready to leave.
'Hey,' he eyed your belongings once again. 'What's up?'
You looked between the giants. 'My best friend flagged me down. Her ex is driving her crazy on a case,' you chuckled sympathetically. 'I should go before the piece of shit actually gets what he deserves.'
'He deserves help?' Dean wondered.
'No; death,' you corrected. 'But my friend doesn't deserve jail.'
Dean shot Sam a look who just shrugged a little like it didn't matter. 'Right. We also caught a case. We were actually going to ask you to join . . . .'
Disappointment swirled in your gaze before it was gone so fast that Sam wondered if he imagined it there for a second. 'Aw, that's too bad. I would've loved that . . . But I can't just dicth B/F.' You looked between them apologetically.
'We understand,' Sam jumped to your rescue, forcing a charming smile. 'It's alright.'
'Next time?' Hope emerged in your mesmerising e/c irises.
'Yeah, yeah, sure. I'll call you,' Sam said with a genuine smile this time. He'd already fed your number in his cell last night and vice versa.
Your smile converted to a smirk. 'Oh, you mean, you won't gatecrash my fun and get on my case again?' you joked.
Sam chuckled. 'I'll try. But it's hard not get on a beautiful woman's case.'
You blushed hotly then, looking away, and Sam could swear that he wanted to keep complimenting you if it meant being treated by your gorgeous face like that.
'Looking forward to it,' you softly murmured. You stepped forward to side-hug Dean, then turned to the more familiar man for a tighter hug, and even a peck on the cheek, pulling away then to part ways with a small, shy wave.
As Sam stared a bit longingly after your retreating figure, Dean sniggered in bemusement. 'You're so smitten.'
'Shut up!'
A/N: Do Sam-girls accept me yet ❤😂? Lemme know through likes, comments, and reblogs, and/or DMs 😘!
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