Summary: “I can’t change what I did and truly all I want is your forgiveness. Not absolution–or–or salvation… Just… forgiveness.”
Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con
Previous chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten Eleven
A/N: I hope you all like this chapter and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are always welcome <3 Alsooo don't worry. This is not the end. I felt like this seemed like an ending so I wanted to be clear. I feel like I've been giving y'all blue balls so don't worry, we're gonna get our smut on real soon, folks! ;) Most likely the next part will also wrap everything up and will be the last part but I'm already working on a new sam x reader fic that takes place at the beginning of s.10 but is a continuation of the same relationship that is present in all my fics.
Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa @dottirose
When you first woke sometime later, you continued to drift in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours. You were faintly aware of Sam’s presence on the other side of you–your feet tangled with his legs as he curved around you. But the meds Dean gave you were strong and continued to pull you back down into unconsciousness.
In the hazy moments of awareness, you could hear Sam and Dean talking quietly to each other. Their voices lulled you back into a comforted sleep. Another moment, despite your back to him, you could feel Sam sitting back against the headboard, reading. Each rustle of the pages turning was a quiet thrill that made you smile unconsciously in your sleep, even more so when he began using his free hand to casually caress figure eights onto your back.
Sometime after that, you found Sam alongside you, over the blankets but still snuggled against you, his flanneled arm draped over you. He’d laced fingers with yours and held your hand over your heart. You felt him nuzzle his nose into your hair and inhale deeply before gently pressing his lips to the crown of your head. This, combined with the sun shining in from the window by the door and your desperate thirst, was enough to finally push you fully into consciousness.
The ice bag rested heavily on top of your cheek and was as cold as ever. Dean must have made a fresh one.
You whined softly as you stretched your legs and let out a yawn. Instinctively, you moved your arms and Sam withdrew his, allowing you to stretch them out in front of you, noticing with each shift the aches in parts of you that you didn’t even know could ache. Your lungs felt bruised, somehow, from the strain the shifter had put on them in its attempt to suffocate you. The large bruises on the back of your arms, your waist, and your thighs where it had coiled itself tightly around you pulsed out painful reminders.
You turned over, taking the ice bag with you, and nestled it between your cheek and the pillow. Each movement brought on more frustration, stirring you further from your sleep as you wrestled with your appendages in a vain attempt to settle into a position that didn’t hurt.. Grasping the top sheet in your fingers, you pulled your hands together and rested them beneath your chin.
You blinked slowly as your eyes adjusted to the light.
Sam was right there, watching you. His face lit up as your eyes settled on his. His shaggy, brown hair was tucked behind his ears and he was dressed in jeans and an old grey and blue flannel. You took stock of the bandages on his neck and cheek and chin and wondered how many more there were that you couldn’t see.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey,” you croaked. A beat passed before you painfully cleared your throat and asked, “When was the last time you laid in bed this late?”
Sam smirked as he thought about it for a moment. “Laid in bed with you, like this? At three in the afternoon? Hmm…,” his eyes narrowed on you as he thought. “Probably a few months… Was it New Year's Day? … Certainly not often enough.”
Your heart raced and you took as deep a breath as you could manage. Sam wouldn’t be talking to you like this if he hadn’t decided to stay, right?
“New resolution: stay in bed more,” you rasped with a careful smile before a tiny cough caught in your throat and you pulled the sheet over your mouth as you let it out.
“I can get on board with that,” Sam said grinning broadly as he climbed off the bed and made his way around. He grabbed the full cup from the nightstand as you carefully pulled yourself back to rest against the headboard. A groan or a hiss escaped your lips with each painful movement. Sam leaned over you, careful not to spill the water, and adjusted the pillow behind your back before moving the ice bag to the nightstand. He crouched down and handed you the cup which you drank down in seconds, stopping once to cover a painful cough.
Sam’s brow furrowed as he tried to force his concerned frown into a smile. He grabbed Dean’s steel water container and refilled your cup as you held it out for him. Once he was sure you weren’t going to chug the second cup as well, he joined you back on the bed. This time he sat with his legs crossed under him and faced you.
You glanced around the room. “Dean?”
“Supply run,” Sam said. You nodded before taking a sip of water. He watched you for several long moments before looking away, as if steeling his nerves. He took a deep breath and when he turned back you saw that his eyes were glistening again, like last night, and you were back in that old place, the place where your heart ached and begged to stop all of his pain and guilt and regret and longed to remind him how worthy and caring and honorable he was and how all the bullshit he’d endured wasn’t on him...
You took another sip and closed that door in your mind. You weren’t sure Sam still wanted you to take care of him in that way and until you were, that wasn’t a weight you could take on… not right now.
“Y/n… I’m so-”
“I’m okay, Sam,” you said, cutting him off. The corners of your lips twitched up into your best attempt at a reassuring smile. “Dean stopped it. I’m still here. You’re still here. Everything’s okay.”
Okay, so maybe that door didn’t close so easily…
“Please, y/n, just let me say this,” he said before inhaling sharply. “I— I never should have left.”
You shook your head at him. “Please don’t do that.”
“What?”
“We both know by now that shit just happens and all any of us can do is be there to help pick up the pieces, maybe stop it if we’re lucky. We’re not always going to be lucky,” you shrugged. “So don’t act like you should have done something–like you could have done something… because clearly, life doesn’t work that way.”
Sam swallowed hard and looked away from you. “I never should have taken that damn case. I should have given it to Dean. I should have come straight home,” he muttered.
“Sam,” you said before biting anxiously at your bottom lip. The thing that had been gnawing at the edge of your thoughts was finally ready to bubble out. “Look, I know this has thrown a wrench in your, uh, plans. I still mean what I said the other night–if you’re not ready to come back, don’t do it just because of–because of all this. I’ll be okay for a bit. Awhile even. If you have any doubts… about–about us–I need you to deal with them before you–if you decide to…” You stumbled over your words and took a sharp breath, ready to push past the one word you couldn’t get your mouth to utter. “if you can– if you can forgive me.”
Sam dragged his hand down his face as the tears started to slip down his cheeks. He pinched his bottom lip anxiously like he did when research was beginning to fail him. Normally, when you caught him doing that, you’d walk up behind him and pull his hands into yours as you leaned over and pecked little kisses down the side of his face until you found his lips, and–still grasping his hand in yours–tilted his face up and pressed your lips to his, taking a long, silent moment before opening your mouth to him and slipping your tongue gently and momentarily between his lips. Your breath turned shallow from the memories and you quickly wiped away a tear as you wondered how you’d ever be able to keep yourself from him.
Sam stared up at the ceiling a moment before looking back and studying you for a long moment. His brows knit together and suddenly he leaned toward you and pulled you into his arms as he lifted you with an almost disconcerting ease. You fought through the ache in your muscles as you shifted your legs and nestled yourself around his hips before resting your chin on his shoulder and encircling him in your arms. He slowly caressed his fingers up and down your back.
“Sam…,” you said softly against his ear, your chin pushing into his shoulder as you spoke.
“You know… when I was out in the woods, setting up my tent, hiking the trails, just trying to clear my mind–that plan completely backfired. All I could think about was you. I watched the creeks flowing, saw little pools of minnows and frogs and swimming ducks and I thought of you and how much you’d love it. I saw an owl up high in a tree and I wished I could show you. I watched the sunset and I wished you were there holding my hand, telling me what the colors reminded you of. I stared up at the stars and I swear I saw your face. The moon was a beautiful, clear, perfect crescent–just like you always love to point out to me when you see it. You were everywhere. It was so much that I almost prayed to Cass, sure that he was doing this to me on purpose. But I knew better. It wasn’t Cass or any other magic. It was just… you. My love for you.”
Your heart caught in your throat and tears streamed down your cheeks as he spoke. You pulled your chin down to the fabric above his clavicle and pressed a kiss into him as you shifted your grip on your forearm, squeezing him tighter as your tears dripped onto Sam’s back.
“I couldn’t sleep. I debated calling you–debated if I should just pack up and drive back home to you. Then I got news from a hunter about a case close to home and decided I could wrap it up quick and be home in a couple of days and that way you’d still get your space–in case you needed it now–after–after the way I’d treated you that night.”
“Sam,” you said, whispering his name again. That wasn’t your favorite memory but you didn’t want it to be something he berated himself for forever.
“I know, just let me finish. I need to say this.”
You loosened your embrace on him and trailed your fingers up his neck, unintentionally eliciting a soft gasp from him at your touch. Your fingers found your target as you brushed them–opened and closed–around his crown, gliding slowly through his hair. His chest, pressed to you, fell and rose shallower now.
“Oh my god… you're making this… more difficult than I imagined,” he said, his voice strained.
“Sorry,” you said, the small smile evident in your tone. “It’s just… this last week has been incredibly–excessively–unbearably shitty and I needed you so bad–not needed you, needed you–just–you know–needed you. Dean did his best–the best friend I could ever ask for–but when you hold me–I feel… healed… salvageable… I’m not-”
“Shh…,” Sam soothed you as he gripped your shoulders and pulled you away from him so that he could look into your eyes. “I’m here and I got you and I’m not going anywhere. Now, listen to me. Of course I forgive you, okay? I forgive you a million times over. Tell me you’d make the same choice again and again and I’ll say, ‘Yes, do it’. Tell me you need to wipe my mind again right now and I’ll say, ‘Please’ without giving it another thought. If you made a call then it was the right one. Full stop. I know you, and you know me,” he said, squeezing your shoulders before letting go and cupping either side of your face in his wide palms, ensuring you couldn’t look away from him as he spoke but careful to avoid the laceration on your cheek.
“It took me a little bit to sort through the memories of that night after Cass gave them back to me. At first all I could see was you–bloody, screaming in agony as I lifted you–I woke up hearing that scream in my nightmares, y/n… but then, there it was, a thought that prickled at the back of my mind as I held you so still that my arms were cramping–you didn’t deserve this life and Dean and I were monsters for pulling you into it–for keeping you in it. This is why we don’t do attachments in this life. It’s not safe. And loving me was going to be the death of you.”
You shook your head and he let go of you, dropping his hands to find yours, weaving each finger with his.
“You were right, y/n,” he said. “Don’t you see? You were right.”
“No, Sam,” you said, still shaking your head. “Don’t do that. I was wrong, okay? My choices were wrong. I can’t change what I did and truly all I want is your forgiveness. Not absolution–or–or salvation… Just… forgiveness.
Sam closed his eyes and was silent for several long seconds as your words washed over him. Finally, he whispered, “I love you,” and leaned forward to press his lips chastely against yours before he pulled back just enough for his heavy breath to warm your skin. “Is this okay?” he asked.
You paused, surprised at yourself for not immediately responding, ‘yes’. And realized you were not sure what to make of it, of him. And his beautiful words were too much. It was all overwhelming.
“Y/n?”
“I’m so sorry,” you said as you dropped your head into your hands and squeezed your eyes shut. Fresh tears dripped into your palms as you quietly sobbed.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me–I know you’re Sam. You are Sam. You are my Sam. And I adore you, too. You know that, right?” you asked. “I can’t find all the words right now to convey it the way you did. I’m so–it’s just been a–a shitty fucking week,” you said as you lifted your red, blotchy face up to look at him and took in several slow, deep breaths.
Sam’s eyes widened with concern and you saw his chest rise and fall rapidly with panicked breaths. “I do–I do know that,” he said as fresh tears misted his eyes. You could see he wanted to comfort you, to hold you, but he wasn’t sure anymore if that was right, so he pulled himself away.
Your tears came harder then and you gripped the comforter into a ball. You were furious, you wanted to scream out in anguish. You wanted to stop. fucking. crying. But you couldn’t. It all just spilled out and all you wanted was for Sam to wrap you in a hug and hold you and kiss your forehead and stroke your back, but there was another part of you that wanted him to stay away from you–to leave you the fuck alone.
You felt like you were being torn in two and it was an emotional agony that paled in comparison to what you felt the night you and Sam fought or even the misery of the days after. You stood and fumbled around your boots and clothing, looking for your phone. Sam’s voice sounded like it was being carried over a pool of water that sat above you as he called your name. You ignored him. You found your phone on the nightstand, no doubt plugged in and charged thanks to the ever thoughtful Sam, and made your way to the bathroom where you shut the door behind you, too scared to look back at him. It broke your heart to imagine his expression upon hearing the soft click of the lock but you did it all the same.
You turned the cold knob on the sink and tried to focus on the sound of the rushing water as you cupped your hands under the stream and watched the water rush across your skin in airy streams. It was cool and calming and you splashed several handfuls over your face before patting it dry with the hand towel, careful of your cut.
You unlocked your phone and called Dean.
“Y/n?” Dean asked as he answered the phone before the first ring had even finished.
“Dean?”
“You good?”
“I, uh–yeah, I’m good,” you lied.
Dean could hear the congestion in your voice and knew you’d been crying.
In an instant his tone turned gravelly and flat. “What’s wrong?”
“I just, um, I know it’s Sam but–I don’t know why but I suddenly wasn’t so sure–but that doesn’t make sense because I do know–I do know that’s Sam,” you choked back your tears and swallowed hard. “He–I just…,” you trailed off. There was a silence between you for a moment.
“Y/n, the shifter’s dead, okay? I killed it. And I just got the other one into the trunk so we can burn it, too. I’ll be there in ten but in the meantime, I’m sure Sam won’t mind if you have to test him again to be sure, okay, kiddo?”
You nodded to yourself. “Okay,” you whispered before sniffing and wiping your nose with the back of your hand.
“Deep breaths,” Dean reminded you.
You took a deep breath and winced at the sharp pain in your lungs as you inhaled.
“Sorry,” you said as a guilty tear spilled down your cheek.
“Don’t be. I’ll stay on the phone with you ‘til I’m back,” he said.
You took another deep breath and counted to five before letting it out and counted to five again as you exhaled, ignoring the pain.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay, Dean,” you said as you hung up the phone before he could counter you.
You glanced in the mirror for the first time since you weren’t even sure when. Your hair was a crazy, tangled mess and your face was stamped with a bright splotch of red across your cheek, an almost perfect handprint. The two butterfly closures held the broken skin together. There was a big, dark bruise forming beneath your eye, above the cut. The shifter really had hit you as hard as it could, which was saying something for a monster. You quickly brushed through your hair with your fingers and pulled it into a manageable but loose bun. You turned to face the door and shut your eyes as you gently shook your whole self, before slowly opening the door. Sam sat at the edge of the bed, waiting quietly as he fidgeted with his fingers.
“You scared me,” he murmured as he looked up at you.
“Sorry,” you said as you hesitated in the doorway. “I know you’re not…,” you trailed off and took a slow step toward him. “Your whole being–your whole presence is the opposite of it so I know you’re not–but for a second a part of me was there again and–well, without Dean here–I’m sorry. Not that you–” you said, fumbling over your words before Sam cut you off.
“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Sam said. “I know exactly what it’s like to have no idea what’s real and what’s in your head.”
Of course Sam would know; he’d told you vague stories of the torture he’d endured in the cage before you’d met him. The other pieces Dean filled in, about his visions of Lucifer taunting him, and the scar on his palm that reminded him he was safe. When Sam was having a really bad day you’d sometimes gently trace a finger across that scar to remind him of that fact. And on even worse days, when you had a moment alone, you’d peck small kisses to it.
He held his hand out and waited for you to take it as you approached him. When you did, he pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around your hips as he nestled his face into your waist. You twisted your fingers in his hair as he sighed a ragged breath into you. You stood there just like that, silent, as Sam breathed in and out, comforted by your fingers tracing up and down his scalp and twisting idly in his hair.
“Will it help if you tell me about it?” he asked after a minute.
You considered the idea. “Maybe–later though, or tomorrow–not yet–and besides, Dean’s gonna be back soon,” you said. He looked up at you. Those big, pitiful–beautiful eyes that you’d walk across shattered glass and hot coals to see just one more time. You didn’t need to cut his arm to know he wasn’t a shifter. This was all Sam. You disentangled a hand from his hair and lightly prodded at his left arm causing him to release you. You slid your fingers down the length of his arm as he bent it up to you. When you reached his wrist you gently grasped it in your palm and pulled it up to your lips so you could press a kiss to his scarred palm.
“I love you,” you murmured as you released his wrist. He glided his palm across your jaw and cupped it as he rose to his feet. Your other arm slid down and you slipped it under the back of his shirt to hold him just above his hip, urging him to stay close.
“Love you,” he whispered back. He held fastly, now, to either side of your face as he ducked down and pressed his lips to yours. You released his hip and lifted your hands, resting them over his as he held you, ensuring he didn’t release you before you were ready. You opened your lips to him and he hesitated for the briefest second before deepening the kiss and slipped his tongue momentarily along yours. You could feel the electricity buzzing between you as he started to pull back. You leaned forward and captured his lips with yours.
“More,” you murmured against his mouth. Obedient as always, Sam kissed you back, hungrily now, like he needed your lips on his to sustain himself. He angled your face up and deepened the kiss with his tongue. Gently, he sucked your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it and going back to your lips for more. You sighed into him as you released his hands. He let one trail over your neck as the other gripped your waist, pulling you closer and eliciting a low gasp from your lips. You cupped the side of his face with one hand as you let the other one return to his hair, just behind his ear where you drew light circles with your thumb.
“I should shower,” you said, remembering Dean was on his way.
“I’m the one that needs the cold shower,” he whispered with a smirk as you rested your hands on his chest.
“Oh please, it takes way more than that to get you going.”
“Don’t be so sure,” he said as he gently grasped your hand and pulled it down so that you could feel his partially stiffened cock beneath his jeans. He smiled at the blush that flushed your cheeks as he shifted sideways, turning his back to the door and walked you backwards toward the bathroom.
“I really missed you,” he said as he pressed his lips to the juncture of your neck and jaw.
The roar of the Impala broke the trance and you broke apart. You listened as Dean pulled the car to the door and cut the engine off. Dean entered the room in a rush, not even bothering to shut the car door behind him. He looked to you and then to Sam and arched an eyebrow. You made your way to Dean as Sam sat uncomfortably down at the edge of the bed, tugging at his jeans as he crouched.
“You good, sweetheart?”
“Something like that,” you said as you hugged him. “Thanks for–”
“ ‘Course,” he said as he continued to study you before glancing again to Sam. “Okay, well, you two ready to put this place in the rearview after we eat a quick bite? Because I sure as shit am,” he said as he clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. He turned and made his way back out the motel door, leaving it hanging open as he rifled through the back seat before returning with a plastic bag and a paper tray with three sweating cups of ice cold soda in one hand and a brown paper bag that smelled greasy and warm and delicious in the other. The smell awakened your appetite and your stomach rumbled in response.
“Holy shit, I’m fucking hungry,” you said, eliciting a small chuckle from Sam.
“Good, cause I got your favorite cheeseburger: extra mustard, extra pepper, add jalapenos,” Dean said as he kicked the door shut behind him and set the drinks down on the table.
Your mouth watered as you took the bag from Dean and set it on the table, hungrily pulling a fistful of fries from the bag, and stuffing them in your mouth as you took a seat. You didn’t have the heart to tell him your throat may be too sore to enjoy mustard and jalapenos and you were too hungry to really care.
“Hey, those better not be my fries!” Dean shouted. You stiffened and glanced hesitantly in his direction. Sam’s lips twitched up into a small smile at you before he saw that Dean was handing him the plastic bag.
“Oh, thanks,” he said hesitantly as he squinted at the bag.
“Only thing around here was a wally-world so those’ll have to do,” Dean said as he made his way back to the table and sat across from you. He pulled one of the cups from the tray and took a long pull.
You were already three bites into your burger and had dumped the fries on to the paper wrapping when Dean fished his food out of the bag. You turned and watched as Sam pulled a large shoe box from the bag and lifted one of the boots out. They were steel-toe, dark brown work boots. “They’ll definitely do,” he said as he pulled them on and fussed with the laces. To you, they looked closer to something Dean would choose for himself than what Sam normally wore but the options were surely slim.
“You gonna eat, Sammy?” Dean asked a moment later. You looked back to see Sam was still at the edge of the bed, watching you and Dean devour your meals. There was a hesitancy in his eyes that confused you and you furrowed your brows at him. He shook his head and smiled as he stood up.
“So, the bunkers good?” you asked Dean after handing Sam his burger. There were only two seats at the small dinette table so Sam sat at the foot of Dean’s bed and took a careful bite of his cheeseburger.
“Good as it can be,” he said as he chewed a large bite. “Cass said everything was fine. Had to have been some kind of spell–a cloaking spell or an entry spell–that either the shifter already knew or got from, you know, Sam’s beautiful mind,” he said before taking another pull from his soda.
You grimaced at the thought. Sam let out a guilty huff before leaning his long body off the bed and over to the table and to take one of your fries as he kissed your cheek.
“S’okay,” you said as he sat back down. You lifted your leg and rubbed your pointed toe along the side of his calf. A pained smile crossed his face as he looked to you.
You finished the last bite of your cheeseburger and took a giant gulp from the soda, tossed a few fries quickly in your mouth and stood up, wiping your hands off with a napkin. “Finish my fries for me, Sam,” you said. “Gonna shower real quick.”
Sam’s palm rested on his knee and you made sure to pass him closely enough that you could graze two fingers over the back of his hand. His hand twitched reflexively from the sudden, unexpected touch.
“Be careful of your cut,” he whispered. You smiled tenderly at him from the doorway before turning and shutting the door.
You showered–for the first time since–and it felt so good to finally, really wash the shifter off. You let the hot water relax the tension in your shoulders and neck and scrubbed gently at your scalp with the motel shampoo. You paid extra attention with the sudsy washcloth, trying to make sure you scrubbed every part of you that the shifter touched. It wasn’t enough, you could still feel it and as the memories started to enter your mind, you hurried through the rest of your shower, not comfortable to be alone with your own thoughts.
When you were done, you put on fresh clothes you had tucked away in your go-bag. More plaid flannel, t-shirts and dark-washed jeans. The clothing was just practical for hunting, more than anything. Although, it was nice to look like you actually belonged with Sam and Dean when you went anywhere. Sometimes you would see other girls in their crop tops or chunky sweaters, baggy jeans and sneakers, floral dresses that cinched at the waist paired with platform boots–all things with even the vaguest whiff of a ‘fashion sense’ and you’d feel a pang of jealousy for yours long lost.
You brushed gently through your wet hair and pulled it into a quick braid, easy and out of the way, the short pieces fell loose around your face. You peered out of the bathroom. Sam was packing his bag on top of his side of the bed.
He looked up when he heard the door open and turned back to smile at you. The front door hung open and you could hear Dean packing up the Impala.
“You’re so cute,” he said. You shrugged as you slung your duffel over your shoulder.
You arched a brow at him. “I look like I went three rounds with a lawnmower,” you said with a huff of laughter as you sat at the edge of the bed to pull on your boots, dropping your bag back to the floor.
“I like when you braid your hair,” he said as he brushed one of the loose pieces back and tucked it behind your ear.
“Cut to me–practicing a dutch braid–then–cue the montage–as I perfect the waterfall braid, the half-up half-down twist, the mermaid, the fishtail and the low plait as ‘Every Little Thing She Does is Magic’ by The Police plays,” you said with a grin as you laced your boots.
Sam playfully rolled his eyes as he slung his bag over his shoulder before picking up yours and doing the same.
“I can carry it,” you said, as you stood up and slipped your phone into your back pocket.
“I know you can,” he said as he indicated for you to walk on in front of him. You shook your head before walking to the car and climbed in the backseat. Dean didn’t protest as Sam, too, climbed in back. You fell asleep, slumped against Sam’s shoulder, hands laced together over his knee as CCR crackled through the speakers.
Summary: “You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming."
Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con
Previous chapters:
One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten
A/N: Definitely recommend catching up or re-reading before this chapter since we have some callbacks to chapter 1 here. Thank you all for showing me so much support after being gone for so long <3 This might be my personal favorite chapter yet :) Most of it's been written for years but had lots of rewrites and edits as I worked through it and came back to it again and again during my hiatus, so if there's anything that doesn't connect or track, please DM me so I can fix it! I've reread it like eight times, though, so I think we're good... I hope you all like it and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are very welcome <3 as always, link to AO3 if you prefer.
Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa
You yanked hard on the door and sure enough, the door drug across the jamb and you had to give it a second hard pull to get it fully open. As soon as it was free Dean was right there, gun pointed ahead of him as he let his eyes adjust before quickly clearing the area to the left and the right. Just as planned you were directly behind him, gripping your gun but keeping it pointed safely toward the ground.
The interior was completely dark except for rows and columns of sporadically blinking green and orange lights to the left. As Dean stepped in, you followed, remaining so close to him that you could literally feel your breath warming his neck. Dean should’ve known better than to exaggerate when telling you to do something that you didn’t want to do. He took another careful step inside and reached along the wall for a light switch.
As he did, there was suddenly a soft tumble of footsteps and Dean deftly reached behind him to grip your arm and pull you along with him as he ducked to the right, pressing you safely between him and the wall.
The shadowy form of a person was visible somewhere ahead of Dean, outlined by the blinking lights. It was wielding some kind of weapon that you couldn't make out in the darkness until it glinted in the light and you could see the flash of a long, sharp point. The figure darted into the darkness and from somewhere across the room you heard a deep, stifled scream.
Dean gripped his gun with both hands and aimed it at each corner of the room, hoping to catch sight of some kind of movement.
You shifted your handgun to one hand and silently pulled your silver blade from its holster and gripped it tightly. You scrapped it along the wall, using it’s extra length to find your mark. After a short moment it caught on the switch and the room was flooded with a dull, fluorescent haze; the bulbs flickered and buzzed faintly before steadying on.
Momentarily blinded by the sudden light, you narrowed your eyes and squinted as they adjusted.
You peeked around Dean as you sheathed your blade. Your stomach dropped.
There, in the middle of the room, was Sam. He was tied up in a chair, ropes tight around his wrists and ankles and mouth. He’d been stripped down to nothing but his boxers and socks and there was blood splattered on the ground beneath him. Sam had a black eye and a horrific mixture of blood and sweat dripped from his forehead. He had a handful of cuts and gashes across his chest. He caught sight of you and your eyes locked together. The marble pinged against your insides again as you saw Sam’s bloodshot eyes glisten with tears. Your heart caught in your throat and you could feel yourself forgetting to breathe.
Sam glanced to his left, drawing your eyes away from him.
You froze.
Standing in the dark corner, just a few steps away from Sam, was the last thing you expected to see...
It was...
you?
Not current you... but clean, moisturized, fresh-faced, hair-brushed-and-styled-with-the-perfect-flounce-you-could-never-quite-achieve-despite-many-frustrating-hours-spent-fussing-over-it… you.
It was fully dressed in clothes that looked like something you’d wear if you had time to put thought into your outfits, and to top it off, she was wearing Sam’s wellworn green jacket and a blue flannel and something about that made your stomach churn. It held a long, jagged blade comfortably in it’s outstretched arm as it grinned and you pulled yourself back behind Dean as you tried to catch your breath.
“ ‘Bout time you guys joined the party,” it said cheerfully and took a careful step toward Sam. It was bizarre hearing your voice come from another person… thing… it.
“That’s close enough,” Dean warned as he pointed his gun at the shifter.
“Oh, Dean,” it said as it suddenly dropped and rolled skillfully behind Sam. Dean fired his gun at the movement but missed the target, leaving a small smoking circle in the machinery. You jerked at the sudden sound and took a moment before taking in a deep, stabalizing breath.
“Come on, after the last few days, Dean, stuck at home with… me,” it smirked as it slowly crouched over Sam and held the jagged blade to Sam’s throat. “The sad, pathetic thing you rescued from purgatory,” she mocked with an exaggerated pout. “Listening to her whining, holding her as she cried, falling asleep on the couch as you held her… we both know you were dying to put a bullet in both of your heads just to get the pathetic misery to end.”
You studied the back of Dean’s head, imagining the furious expression flashing across his face.
The shifter pulled the edge of it’s blade through Sam’s sweat-slicked hair, causing the tip to graze against his check and scalp, just light enough to not break the skin. Sam flinched reflexivly and squeezed his eyes shut. The shifter sneered at Dean for a moment before catching your eyes as you peaked over Dean’s shoulder.
It smiled and narrowed its eyes at you as it licked it’s tongue across it’s teeth. “Looking a little rough there, sister. My brother got a few good hits in at least. Tell me, how far did he get before you noticed? One finger? Two? Balls deep?” It laughed.
“Stop it,” Dean seethed.
“Oh, sweetheart,” the shifter sneered as it pressed the blade ever so slightly against Sam’s throat, drawing beads of blood to the surface. Sam winced and you felt the rage building inside of you. It took every ounce of control you had to stay put.
You locked eyes with Sam as tears spilled from his wide, horror-filled eyes. The throbbing ache in your cheek was a painful reminder of earlier that night and you watched as his eyes drifted over it.
The shifter crouched down again and licked Sam’s ear while looking at you. “Am I doing it right?” it asked before brushing your… its fingers through Sam’s hair and jostling his head around simply for the sake of reminding you who was in charge.
“That’s what you asked the first time you put Sammy’s cock in your mouth, isn’t it?” it drawled right into his ear, its eyes still locked on you.
Your heart raced, and you squeezed your eyes shut as the throbbing ache in your cheek worsened from your rapid pulse. You rested a palm against Dean’s shoulder to steady yourself as you felt yourself losing balance. All you could think about was rage. But for Sam’s sake you couldn’t let its taunts get the better of you. That was easier said than done.
“You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming,” Dean bellowed as he stepped fully in front of you, blocking you completely from the shifters view and sadly, from Sam. “Your brother went quick. Couple silver bullets and he was down. When I’m done with you you’ll be begging for a bullet, do you hear me?”
You heard a brief squelching sound and something heavy and wet spilled to the ground.
“I needed to catch up,” Sam sneered.
But it wasn’t Sam. It was the shifter, transformed now, into Sam.
“Mmmm, that’s some sweet, sweet pain and guilt, Sammy,” the shifter hummed. “Delicious..."
It pressed the knife further into Sam’s neck. Sam grimaced as the blood dribbled down his neck. All you could hear was Sam grunting in pain.
“Your gun,” it said.
Dean dropped the gun, letting it swing from his pointer finger as he spread his arms.
“Cut the crap. What do you want?” Dean asked.
“I told him not to go after you Winchester’s,” it spat. “But he insisted.”
“Refresh my memory, would ya? What did we do to you anyway? We haven’t hunted a shifter in years.”
You could hear Sam breathing rapidly as he tried and failed to catch his breath.
“Charisse.”
Dean hesitated. “Who the fuck is Charisse,” he asked under his breath.
“The witch… from the other day… my last hunt with Sam,” you whispered.
Dean gave you a small nod without breaking eye contact with the shifter.
“Since when do shifters and witches work together?” Dean asked.
“Please, Dean… we both know you don’t care,” the shifter replied.
Dean shrugged again. “Eh… normally you’d be right, I don’t really care what you monsters get up to when you’re not hurting people. But a witch and shifters working together? Well, that’s not something I’ve ever seen before.”
“Charisse was like a mother to us,” the shifter said as he stood, still holding the blade to Sam’s throat. “She fed us and took care of us and gave us advice about moving through the world as monsters that people like us never get. And in return we helped her… well, pay the bills…,”
“So you were thieves,” Dean said.
You silently crouched and glanced around Dean, desperate for a view. You caught sight of the shifter standing above Sam. The grip on its blade had loosened as it spoke. The top of Sam’s head reached just beneath the neck of the shifter but in Sam’s frame, with his broad shoulders, there was a clear shot; a small shot, but a clear one.
As you stood, hidden behind Dean, and his open jacket which added several inches to his frame, you took advantage of the cover to check that the safety on your gun was released.
“Don’t move,” you whispered so that only Dean could hear you.
“So mommy dearest bites the big one and your brother decides to get revenge,,” Dean vamped to keep the shifter distracted. “You both came to this town and got up to no good in order to draw out Sam. But brother got dead and now it all rests on your shoulders. Did I miss anything?” Dean asked, taunting the shifter.
As he spoke you slowly, carefully and silently turned so that your back was to Dean’s and aimed your gun forward, ignoring the throbbing in your cheek. You were going to have to move quickly or the shifter would get the drop and… and… well, that didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to happen. Your took a deep, steadying breath.
As the shifter began to reply you swiftly and carefully spun around on one foot, ready to aim your gun at the shifter’s head.
It looked and sounded every bit like Sam and if it weren’t for the fact that he was sitting right there that may have given you pause. You aimed and without a whisper of hesitation, fired off a single silver round into its head. It dropped the blade, sending it cascading across Sam’s front before clattering to the ground. The shifter stumbled backwards and Dean made a break for it, crossing the room in several long strides as you dropped your gun and sprinted to Sam.
Dean pinned the shifter down with his knee digging into its back as he pulled its arms behind its back and bound them tightly at the wrists. It was unnecessary, though, it was as dead as the one you’d left at the bunker.
“Nice shot,” Dean said as he examined the thing. For the second time in just a few hours Dean had to deal with the lifeless and bloodied body of his brother.
You stood over Sam and leaned over him, your fingers trembled with adrenaline as you fumbled with the knot on the rope between Sam’s lips.
“Y/n,” Sam whispered between his panicked breaths the second his mouth was free. You crouched down in front of him as you deftly cut the ropes off his wrists and ankles, hardly pulling your eyes away from his for more than half a second.
You looked him over as he stood carefully. In addition to the blackeye he was bruised on his thighs and abdomen and there were deep, red rashes around his wrists and ankles. Sam’s eyes hung on you but he wasn’t looking into your eyes. He was examining you, studying whatever it was that Dean saw in the car earlier that made him wince.
Without even thinking, you found yourself pulling your silver blade from your boot. “I’m… I’m sorry,” you said. “But I have to.”
He nodded and pulled his hand into a fist as he held his arm out. Sam watched your eyes as you swiped the blade across his arm, drawing out a thin trail of blood. He winced and inhaled sharply, all the while never peeling his eyes away from you.
You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It was Sam. It was really Sam. You dropped your blade to the ground with a clatter.
While you wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms and wrap yourself around him, to cling to him, you were still unsure of everything. You stopped short of a hug and instead stood there like an idiot, frozen, as you stared up at him. You had to remind yourself to breathe, again. He stared down at you, holding your gaze now, before briefly glancing to the side of your face and back.
Dean picked up your gun and blade before giving the room a quick once-over. The electronic components, flashing green and orange, were kept to one side, opposite of the desk.
Sam caught your eyes lingering on the pile of rope and the blood spatters around the chair and pulled you to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and inhaled deeply as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “I’m okay,” he whispered.
You felt your insides return as he held you. Your heart and lungs and thoughts all fell back into place, stopping the pinging marble in its tracks as the walls crumbled. The marble, with one last ping, lodged into your heart. You were whole again… mostly.
“God, Sam,” you said, fighting back your sobs. “I… I-”
He brushed his hands over your hair and tenderly shushed you. “I’m here,” he said softly.
“Is it dead?” Sam asked Dean, his tone hard as he continued stroking his palms carefully over you. You caught Dean giving Sam a small, silent nod as you pulled away, ready to not spend another second in this place. Dean handed you your gun and knife which you quickly put away.
Dean stood to the side of the door, ushering you and Sam out before flipping the light switch and pushing the door shut behind him.
Dean lead you all back to the Impala, his eyes scanned the area like clockwork as you all made a beeline for the car. You climbed into the front seat, the safety of the Impala enveloping you as you finally relaxed and your shoulders dropped. Dean quickly looked around as Sam climbed in the back. Dean started up the engine, it’s gentle rumble surely waking at least one person in the nearby houses.
In less than fifteen minutes Dean had you all back at the motel.
“We’re not going back to the bunker?” Sam asked.
Dean shook his head and glanced at Sam in the rearview mirror. “We need Cass to check the warding. It’s not safe.”
Sam looked at you and then back at Dean. “The… the bunker?”
Sam shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to know more but the hesitation from you and Dean to say more made him scared to ask. He slowly opened his eyes and his gaze fell upon you and you could see in the rearview mirror the tears glistening in his eyes again. You had never seen him look so vulnerable: half-naked, no weapon, fighting back tears. You wanted to kill the shifter all over again. You bit at the inside of your lip, worried that it might start to dawn on him what had happened. It’s not that you didn’t want him to know. You just weren’t ready to deal with it. And as long as Sam didn’t know, you could almost pretend that it hadn’t happened. Almost.
Dean nodded curtly as he cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he stared distantly ahead.
“Stay here,” he said to Sam as you climbed out of the car, too. You raised an eyebrow to Dean. “I’ll be right back,” he added to Sam.
Dean, ever the over-protector, was now made even worse. He followed you to the door and once again, checked the entire place over.
“Dean,” you sighed.
“Not up for debate,” he said, repeating himself from earlier, his eyes still studying every inch of the room as he avoided your gaze.
“I’m not saying you can’t be protective but you’re not my security guard. There isn’t a monster in every closet,” you said.
His nostrils flared as he stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, before turning back to you. “What happened… tonight,” he inhaled deeply, “...will never happen again. I won’t let it,” he finished as he swallowed hard. “Not even for a single second will I let you go through something even remotely close to that ever again.”
You stood there in the middle of the room, too shattered and exhausted to argue with him. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid that night all that time ago when Cass manipulated Sam’s memory.
“What are you gonna tell him?” you asked as you choked back your emotions.
“Enough to catch him up,” Dean said as he turned away and headed back to the Impala.
He left the motel door open and climbed back into the Impala. Sam watched you from the backseat. You locked eyes for a brief second as Dean twisted to face Sam and rested his arm on the backseat.
You stepped away from his line of sight, not prepared to handle what Sam’s reaction might be. As they talked, you kicked off your boots and jeans and slipped out of your flannel before climbing into the already unmade bed, leaving the fresh bed for Dean. You left half the bed for Sam, though you weren’t sure if he’d take it. Sure, he’d been emotional and comforted you, that still didn’t mean he’d forgiven you.
You cozied up under the blankets and shut your eyes, desperate to fall asleep, though you weren’t sure what you’d find when you got there. More importantly, however, if you were asleep then you didn’t have to talk with Sam. You inhaled deeply as you nestled your face into the pillow. It smelled faintly like Sam and the longing for him slowly began building back up inside of you. You felt a single tear slip down, leaving a wet circle on the fabric.
Dean’s booted stomps sounded as he crossed the threshold, followed by Sam’s silent, shoeless scuffles. You half wondered if he’d brought any other shoes with him but that was a problem for tomorrow. One of them flipped the lights off. Sam paused at the edge of the bed for a moment and you could hear him quietly breathing as he watched you. A beat passed before he continued to the bathroom and shut the door. Dean pulled the string on his bedside lamp, providing him with enough light so that he could walk about the room but not disturb you. Seconds later you heard the pipes squeak and water rushing as Sam turned on the shower.
You carefully opened one eye just a sliver and watched as Dean grabbed the ice bucket from the dinette table and left, this time pulling the door quietly shut behind him. He returned moments later. You listened as the locks clicked and Dean slid the chain lock into place. He sat in the dinette chair and peeled open one of the empty plastic bucket liners. He scooped ice into it and tied a knot at the top, sealing it closed. The chair quietly scraped across the floor as he stood up and pushed it back. You could feel his presence looming over you, blocking out the light of his lamp on the other side of the room.
“I know you’re not asleep,” he whispered.
You huffed and gently bit at your lip before opening your eyes. “What gave me away?”
“Scooch,” he said. You turned carefully and painfully onto your back and pushed yourself back just enough for him to sit beside you on the bed.
As the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain of the near suffocation you'd endured back at the bunker was beginning to set in. Your chest ached deep down to the bottom of your lungs and you kept your breath short to avoid the sharp, stabbing pain that came when you inhaled too deeply.
Dean lifted the ice bag and slowly pressed the bag against the right side of your face, eliciting a hiss from you as it stung your tender skin. You reached up and placed your hand over Dean’s who pulled his away, letting you take over. You held it there as he watched you.
“I’m gonna get the first aid kit,” he said as he stood back up.
“What for?” you asked.
“Um, your face,” Dean said as he wrinkled his brows.
“Is it that bad?” you asked as he squatted down to pull it from one of the side pockets of his bag.
“You haven’t looked?” he asked as he made his way back over to you and sat down. You shook your head slightly, the ice clinking along to each movement. He studied your expression before nodding. He kicked his boots off and leaned over. You let your hand fall as he pulled the ice bag back.
“Can’t see,” he muttered as he reached over and pulled the string of your bedside lamp, illuminating your side of the room. He straightened up and zipped open the first aid kit to pull several items out.
You glanced down and watched as Dean fussed over his tools. A little bottle of clear liquid caught your eye and inexplicably made your stomach drop.
“Not rubbing alcohol, Dean… please,” you said quietly, shocked at yourself as tears stung the corner of your eyes. You just couldn’t… hurt, anymore. Not tonight. You’d had enough.
“Don’t be a baby,” he said before catching your pained expression. “Sorry,” he whispered quickly. “It’s not alcohol,” he said, shaking the little bottle. “It’s like antiseptic or something.” He shrugged.
You took a deep breath and looked away. Dean took that as his sign to continue. “Can you sit up a little?” he asked.
You pushed yourself up and jutted your head forward. He held the washcloth beneath the cut.
“Look up,” he said. You did as he asked. He squeezed the bottle’s liquid across your cheek, into your cut, cleansing it. The washcloth caught most of the runoff, but some did escape and run down your neck, slicking it. He pulled the washcloth away and refolded it to get to a dry edge and dabbed it gently along your check. You stared at a random spot on the wall as he worked. He returned the bottle to the pouch and pulled out an ointment tube which he squeezed onto a cotton swab and swiped it across your cut as gently as he could manage.
“This is deep, y/n. I’m gonna have to stitch it in the morning,” he said as he pulled the wound tightly shut with two butterfly bandages. You grimaced at the thought.
“Done,” he said with a gentle smile as he returned everything to the kit and zipped it up.
The roar of the shower cut off and there was the familiar scrape of the shower hooks across the curtain rod as Sam exited the shower.
“Thanks,” you wheezed as you looked down and fiddled with your fingers.
Dean cleared his throat. “Can I… do you need anything?”
You shrugged as you locked eyes with him. “Water, I guess? And every breath hurts from when... And sleep, but… I’m also, I mean, I’m a little afraid… to sleep. Don’t know what I’ll…,” you trailed off.
Dean glanced away and seemed to think for a moment. He left your side only to quickly return with the stainless steel water jug and a plastic cup from the motel. He filled it with water and handed it to you. As you sipped the water he returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a small plastic bag with two large white pills in it. Dean handed them to you and you let them roll over in your palm as you tried to guess what they were.
“They’ll conk you out,” he explained. “And Sam and I will be right here the entire time. You don’t have to worry,” he assured you.
“I never worry about that,” you said, giving him a lopsided smile.
He frowned and took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him not to do that, that he had done everything he could and what happened wasn’t his fault, but you just didn’t have the energy. You swallowed the pills and finished the water. Dean refilled the cup and set it on the bedside table. You shifted onto your side, your injured cheek faced up, and got comfortable under the covers as Dean turned the lamp back off. He picked up the bag of ice and placed it gently back over your cheek.
You were just beginning to drift off when you heard the bathroom door open followed by the quiet footsteps of Sam making his way to his bag to rummage for clean clothes. He returned moments later and climbed into bed beside you. It was quiet for a moment but you could feel his presence as he leaned over you, examining your face in the pale light.
“Did I miss anything?” he whispered to Dean.
“Just bandaged her up a little,” Dean whispered from his bed. “And gave her the good stuff to help her sleep.”
“Maybe I should go to a pharmacy and get some real ice packs,” Sam thought aloud.
“It’s four in the morning. There’s nothing open for over a hundred miles,” Dean reminded him.
“I’m sure I could break into a doctor's office or something in this Podunk town,” Sam said. The bed creaked as he leaned back against his pillow.
“Okay, simmer down, John Dillinger,” Dean teased. “It wouldn’t make enough of a difference to be worth it. Gonna have to stitch it up in the morning regardless. What about you? You good?"
"Yeah," Sam whispered. "Nothing deeper than surface level."
You wanted to move, to curve to Sam, or ask him to hold you, but the drugs Dean gave you were strong and were quickly taking over every muscle in your body, including your tongue and lips, and thankfully your aching lungs.
“Get some sleep, Sammy,” Dean whispered. Dean’s bed creaked and you slipped your eyes open a crack to see him turning onto his side, squeezing his pillow against his face. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his jeans and flannel. You couldn’t see it but knowing Dean the hand under his pillow was resting over his Colt. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.
Sam leaned over in the darkness and pressed his lips gently to your temple. You sighed as you fought tooth and nail against the drugs for more seconds with Sam, scared that in the morning, or when you were better, Sam would be gone again. Your body was so heavy you felt like you were going to sink into the mattress.
He pushed toward you, pressing his body carefully against yours and found your hand. He grasped it in his and with everything you had left, before giving into the heaviness and slipping under, you squeezed it, desperate to let him know you were there and aware and so grateful for every moment with him. He laced his fingers with yours and pulled your hand along with his to your heart, wrapping you in him like you were a gift and he was the bow.
Secrets and Lies: Chapter 10 - Not Up For Discussion
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Word Count: 3,236
Summary: With the shifter dead, you and Dean head to Sam's last known location to find him… but will it be too late?
Previous chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine
A/N: I know it's been awhile. Hopefully you read my recent personal update. If no ones out there anymore to read this, that's okay, I get it. Gonna keep going though <3 Link to Ao3 if you prefer
Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor
You and Dean climbed out of the Impala and hurried to the split doors of the garage. Each of you took one, and together, pushed them shut. You jogged back to the car as Dean pulled the keys from his pocket and locked it before turning to catch up with you.
As you waited for Dean, in the rearview mirror something caught your eye. Sam’s old ‘70 Dodge Challenger that he’d taken to driving as a backup when Dean needed to keep Baby.
“Dean,” you said nervously as he approached his open door. Your eyes stayed trained on the reflection of the car. Dean’s gaze followed yours until it fell upon what you'd already seen... the car.
He hesitated for the slightest second.
“Stay here,” he said. He turned and hustled over to the car.
You watched through the mirror as Dean opened the door and the overhead lamp filled the interior of the car with a faint glow. He rummaged through the car's interior before popping the trunk open. You studied what you could of his expression and movements, lit only by the moonlight and the amber haze of the interior, hoping it would pre-warn you as to what might be in the car, in case you needed to brace yourself for…
You shook your head, not willing to let your thoughts travel down that road yet.
Dean shut the trunk and hurried back to the Impala.
He climbed in, pulled his door shut, and gunned it. He didn’t let up as the Impala’s tires briefly spun out, spraying gravel in its wake.
"Found this," he said as he pulled a matchbook out of his jacket pocket. "That's in the town Sam was in, where he was working that case. It's just an hour's drive away… we’ll make it in thirty. Call that place, The Lost Creek Inn, see if he checked in under any of his aliases.”
You nodded silently as you began flipping the matchbook over with one hand and dialed the motel's number that was printed on its label.
Twenty minutes later you had managed to charm the kid at the desk into telling you which room Sam had checked into. He'd also tried ringing Sam’s room twice with no answer. You knew it had been a long shot but you were still disappointed.
You continued fiddling silently with the matchbook and stared blankly at the road ahead.
Dean had one of his old tapes playing quietly while you’d been on the phone but now that you were done it was just awkwardly quiet.
“Y/n-” Dean started before you cut him off.
“Dean, don’t,” you said as you shook your head carefully, flipping the matchbook between your fingers.
Dean watched you out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’t ask me… if I’m okay, or whatever. I don’t want to think about it. And if you ask me that… if I have to think about it, then I won’t be. And all I want to do right now is find Sam and until I put my eyes on him, on the real Sam, then nothing else matters.”
Dean gave you a single nod and faced back toward the dark road. You reached over and turned the volume knob so that the music filled your mind and blocked everything else out. Two more songs played through as the two of you sat silently, your emotions drowned out by the thrumming guitar of Jimmy Page and the crashing cymbals and beating drum of John Bonham.
Dean glanced at you. You were dialing Sam’s number again. It rang five times and you tapped the red button, ending the call before you could hear Sam’s voice telling you to leave a message, exactly as you had done each previous time. You looked back up at the road, your jaw set as you stared blankly ahead, occasionally reminding yourself to take deep breaths, occasionally reminding yourself to breathe at all. You hadn’t passed a single car the entire way, thankfully, so Dean was able to keep the Impala at a steady one hundred, and then some, miles per hour.
He shifted in his seat and you watched him out of the corner of your eye as he placed his arm across the seat, half-way to you, palm up. It could have easily been perceived as just an awkward stretch but you knew what he was trying to do. He may not be able to comfort you or himself with words, mostly because he couldn’t find them, but he could make sure you knew you weren’t alone. Without looking you dropped the matchbook from your left hand, reached across, and placed your hand in his. He quickly enveloped it in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
The action caused you to briefly remember the words of the shifter. Were Dean’s feelings for you entirely platonic? You shut your eyes and shook your head minutely. The thought was so completely ridiculous to you that you couldn’t even entertain it for a single second. Not even when you’d first heard it back in your room was there a single doubt that the shifter was lying to further torment you. If you googled ‘big brother’ in a perfect world, the first 10 search results would all be Dean Winchester. He embodied everything a big brother should be. He comforted you through the worst, he saved you from purgatory, and he could always make you laugh. Dean was your best friend. And you were his.
You knew you were close when Dean turned the radio’s volume down to a whisper. It was a small town and the last thing you needed was to get the wrong attention from the cops or locals.
You pulled into the motel parking lot where Dean parked haphazardly and followed closely behind him as he kicked in the door to Sam’s room. He motioned for you to stay at the entrance. He cleared the entire place, gun drawn, and jerked his head upward to let you know it was clear. You shut the door behind you as you both began searching the room for clues.
Dean went to the closet and pushed the shirts hanging there aside to find a map with various red, sharpie’d x’s and question marks beside three outlying addresses. It was an old road map so it was impossible to tell what you’d find there. Dean yanked on the map, ripping it at the corners where it had been pinned.
“Come on,” he said.
Once in the car, it was you who placed your palm out for Dean to grasp. He did so as he maneuvered the car out of the parking lot with one hand.
The Impala bounced as he pulled across the sharp incline of the driveway and Dean grunted out his mild annoyance.
“I’m a little surprised you didn’t try to convince me to stay back at the bunker,” you said.
Dean glanced over at you briefly and as he looked away you were certain he winced. His body seemed to shiver and you wondered what he was thinking. Maybe it was your appearance; seeing your cuts and scrapes. You tried not to think about it. He inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry to tell you this but you’ll be lucky if I let you out of my sight ever again. New Winchester family rule. You must be with either me or Sam at all times. I’ll get two twin beds, hell, bunk beds for all I care, in my room, if that’s what it takes,” he said. You expected him to chuckle, or smile at you, to let you know he was joking.
But he didn’t.
He was dead serious.
“Besides that… that thing fucked with the warding and until I can get Cass in there we need to be on red alert.”
“I mean… he had all of Sam’s memories. Maybe there was a spell or something Sam knew that helped him,” you suggested.
“Maybe…,” Dean said as he pulled the Impala in front of the building that had been the closest of the three red question marks. It was a small, abandoned store at the eastern end of Main St. Its sign hanging out front was replaced with a sun-bleached ‘For Sale’ sign. There was another huge ‘For Sale’ sign hung in the display front window. It had long ago slipped down to one side. Spiderwebs and dust coated every inch of what you could see through the window as well as the awning over the storefront. You and Dean both climbed out and glanced around for onlookers before heading to the window and peeking in. Dean tried the front door. It had not been opened in quite some time. You followed him around back. He shook the handle of the back door which was padlocked. He crouched down and you could see around him that it was old and rusted.
“No one’s been here in ages,” he commented.
You followed him back to the Impala and as you climbed in you grabbed the paper map from the dashboard and opened the maps app on your phone to cross-reference the other two question marks, hoping one might jump out to you as being the best place to look next.
The first one you looked up was a gas station that looked as though it hadn’t been in business for about half a century. You looked at the linked pictures. It was completely dilapidated and covered in graffiti. It was overgrown by tall weeds and encroaching trees. You could hardly see the building from the road anymore. The second was just a blank square on your digital map. No indication of what it was or used to be and no one had shared any images of it. If something about it stood out to Sam as he drove past it then it must have been his gut and Sam’s gut was rarely wrong. You couldn’t imagine it was the gas station. It looked like a smoking spot for high schoolers. Not secluded or private enough for a monster hiding in a small town.
You handed the map to Dean and pointed to the mysterious question mark as he put the Impala in drive and slid away from the curb.
“You sure?” he asked.
You nodded. “Has to be.”
It didn’t take long to get there. It was tucked away behind several municipal buildings just off Main St. You pulled past the Post Office and Dean turned right. You could see further down the street there were small houses that looked like they’d been built in the post-world-war baby boom of the late forties. They were tucked away behind a row of tall white oaks that had been planted and grown there alongside the lives of the people that lived here over the last seventy years. Behind the post office was a row of Elm trees along either side of a small, broken, and worn driveway. Dean turned off the headlights and slowly pulled the Impala down the drive, between the trees.
Another ten yards past the row of trees was a small brick building, with no windows and one heavy, steel door. It, too, looked like something built in years long gone. Nondescript, the kind of thing most people drive past and occasionally think, “I wonder what that is,” and then half a second later forget all about it. The entire area was squared in by unnatural rows of trees, separating it from the private property to the left and the post office to the right. It was completely hidden. Behind it towered a large phone tower and immediately you knew what it was.
“What is this?” Dean wondered aloud.
“An old telephone switchboard building. I think they still use them but now it’s all automated. I’m sure this place only gets visitors when something goes wrong or for routine walks.”
“Why’s it so hidden?”
“Well, probably because they don’t want to check on it more than they need to, so they don’t want it to stand out to randos driving past or teenage delinquents. Also, I’m genuinely just guessing, but probably because of the Cold War.”
“Ruskies. Right,” Dean nodded. Despite having not expounded, that conclusion made absolute sense to him.
“You and Sam really do belong together. I don’t know a single person other than Sam who would have known any of that,” he said, giving you a gentle smile.
He’d been doing that, reminding you gently that you and Sam belonged together. As if telegraphing it would comfort you somehow.
You suddenly realized how hollow you felt inside. It was as though a single marble was bouncing around inside of you, pinging off the metallic edges of you. It collided into nothing because there was nothing there: no heart, no lungs, no muscles or veins, no thoughts or wants or needs. There couldn’t be because until you found Sam, you weren’t a whole person. You had cut yourself off from everything else and you existed, now, only to find him.
Dean pulled the Impala off the driveway to avoid the off-chance of being seen from the road and cut the engine. You had already reached over the back seat and pulled your handgun packed with silver bullets and two knives from your duffle. The silver one you hooked over the back of your jeans with its holster and the other you tucked down into your boot.
You opened your door and as you climbed out Dean grabbed you your upper arm.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said in a hushed tone, his face twisted with confusion. “We don’t know that there’s not a second shifter,” he said, seemingly surprised at how easily you were about to jump in without talking it over first.
You sat back down and stared over at him. “It’s not very likely.”
“Oh, it’s not likely. Then by all means, just run into the weird, dark building with no windows where there’s god-knows-what inside,” he said, throwing his hands in the air as he whisper-yelled.
You sighed. You knew he was mostly right. “Okay, then how are we doing this?” you asked. “I go right, you go left, reconvene in the back, and go from there?”
“Mmm, no,” he said in mock consideration. “I think it’ll be best if you stick with me and then we’ll go in together,” he said as he checked over his bullets and shoved the clip inside the weapon with a click as it snapped into place.
“Dean, we can’t leave any entry poin-”
He cut you off with a wave of his hand before saying, “Nope. Not a discussion. Let’s go.” He climbed out of the car and you followed suit, rolling your eyes as you went. You each shut your doors as quietly as you could and Dean jogged out in front of you as you fell in line behind him.
He approached the front door and lightly tugged at the handle. It had zero give. For good measure, Dean pushed it and got the same result. Turning away from the door, he held his gun out in front of him while you pointed yours to the ground. He headed toward the left and it took everything in you to not disobey him to save time by splitting the work and heading right but after everything else, you were not ready to make an argument with Dean the cherry on top of this shit sundae.
Dean approached each corner of the building with confident ease and carefully spied around the corner before rounding it and guiding you to stay close behind. You periodically checked your back to be safe. It wasn’t an altogether out-of-the-ordinary position for you to be the tail but most often on hunts, you were sandwiched between them, the tall brothers towering over you even when they were hunching to make themselves less visible. It didn’t help you flex your hunter muscles but it did make you feel incredibly safe. And of course, Dean and Sam had many years more of experience on you so it was no use to argue with them.
After clearing the outside you made your way to the back door. It had seen more use than the front door and you imagined that was because of the lower odds of being seen. It was a small building and you imagined it didn’t even contain any rooms so if there was someone in it, they’d hear you the moment you opened the door.
Dean tried the handle which was, of course, locked. He pulled his lockpick kit from his back pocket and knelt down as he got to work cracking the lock.
Standing with your back directly to Dean, you scanned the small field behind you and beyond the fencing, to the horizon. You could never get over how legitimately flat Kansas was. Everywhere, every part of it… just… so flat; just ground and horizon for miles. The proverbial opposite of the mountains and boulders of Colorado where you’d grown up. The two places could not have been more different.
Your heart pounded loudly in your ears and you did everything in your power to focus on your breathing so that you could listen out for any movement in the grass or trees or buildings surrounding you. You tried not to imagine Sam lying dead beside a pile of shed shifter goo. But it was the only place your imagination seemed currently capable of going to.
“The horizon, the stars, the trees swaying in the wind, the moon,” you thought as you scanned the area slowly, from left to right, and listened. To your disbelief, it seemed to work. Other than the wind all you could hear was the scraping of Dean’s tools inside the lock. “The horizon, the stars, the trees swaying in the wind, the moon.”
Finally, after several agonizing moments, there was a soft click. Dean quickly put his tools away and tucked them back into his pocket as he stood up. He pulled his gun from the back of his jeans and released the safety.
“You pull the door and I’ll clear the entry, then fall in line behind me. Stay close,” he whispered as he looked back at you over his shoulder. You nodded blankly at him. This wasn’t your first rodeo. “Close, do you hear me? I better be able to hear you fucking breathe,” he said sternly.
“I’m not an idiot, Dean,” you replied in a hushed tone.
“I know you’re n-... I’m just telling you to be careful,” he said in an angry whisper. “Could ya maybe tone down the sass? It’s kinda the last thing I need right now.”
“I could say the same thing,” you thought. But Dean was right. As much as it annoyed you when Dean became overprotective, or condescending, you knew you were wasting precious minutes to save Sam.
He stood at an angle, away from the door. You put your gun into the waistband of your jeans and gripped the handle of the door with both hands. It was an older, steel door so you knew there was a good chance it was going to drag along the door jamb and you’d have to yank it to get it fully open.
You locked eyes with Dean and he mouthed the words, “Three, two, one.”
Secrets and Lies: Chapter 6 - This Changes Nothing
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Word Count: 3859
Summary: Despite your fight... and maybe because of it... you need Sam. And despite his feelings towards you, he needs you too.
Previous chapters: One Two Three Four Five
A/N: Link to AO3 if you prefer to read there. This chapter is definitely R rated. I usually like keeping my stuff very PG-13 but this story is going down a different path. Thanks for reading :) It means a lot to me when you take the time to like/reblog or leave a comment letting me know you liked my story. I appreciate all of you <3
You woke in a daze, not even entirely sure where you were. You pulled yourself up and looked around through blurry eyes to find you were in your room again, curled up in a tangle of blankets on the bed. The pillow was wet from where you’d cried yourself to sleep. You couldn’t remember how you’d gotten there. You spotted your phone on the nightstand and picked it up.
4:17 pm
Three and a half hours since your fight with Sam.
You dreaded running into him but you couldn’t go all Howard Hughes’ in here, either.
You opened your door quietly and listened but didn’t hear a sound. You made your way to the kitchen and found an empty glass in the cabinet. The sink squeaked as you turned it on and water started pouring from the tap. Glancing around the room you noticed two plates piled high with sandwiches and chips and an open bottle of beer. You turned the tap off and chugged the water down in a matter of seconds and went to refill it just as you heard footsteps coming quickly from around the corner. You braced yourself but it was Dean who came bounding into the room with a jaunty step as he bounced into the room.
“Hey, it’s you!” he said, grinning widely at you.
“It’s me,” you replied flatly before taking a sip of water from the glass.
“I made us lunch.” He gestured to the sandwiches.
You gave him a sad, lopsided smile. “Thanks, but I’m not sure I can eat.”
“Well, sit with me then,” he said. He picked up both plates and looped his thumb around the neck of his beer and carried it all to the table, setting one plate in front of his usual seat and the other across from him. He turned back before sitting to be sure you were following. “Come on,” he said while jerking his head toward the table, beckoning you over.
You took a deep breath and hesitated for a moment but eventually gave in and made your way to the table. You set down the glass beside the plate and watched Dean as he picked his sandwich up and took a giant bite. “Mm,” he moaned, while rolling his eyes back and shaking his head. “So good,” he said with his mouth full. He grinned at you with a giant piece of romaine sticking out of the corner of his mouth.
You smiled at him and chuckled lightly. “Stop trying to make me laugh, Dean.”
“Aw, look at you,” he said. He chewed down on the lettuce with a crunch. He swallowed. “You’re still in there.”
You smiled at him. “I think being in purgatory was easier than this.”
He picked up his beer and took a chug before raising it to you. “I've been thinking that myself for a while actually.” He took another chug and set the bottle down. “We knew what to do. Hunt. Kill. Survive. It was easy. It was pure.”
You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “Maybe we could go on a hunt. You and me… like the old days,” you said.
“We can, if that’s what you want,” he said with a shrug. He took another big bite.
What did you want? The only thing that would make it better was Sam. And Sam was here. You couldn’t leave.
“I can’t deny it would be nice to kill something,” you said. You pulled your lips to one side and stared blankly at your glass of water.
Dean pushed your plate gently toward you. You picked up a potato chip and popped it in your mouth. Physically you were hungry but you had absolutely no appetite. You chased the chip down with another gulp of water.
“I’m assuming that when you came in here a minute ago you had just come from delivering Sam his sandwich?”
“I did.”
“How… was he?”
“Well, I won’t deny that he’s angry. But he just needs time to process. Look, we both know I’m not gonna braid your hair and buy you a tub of Cherry Garcia so I don’t say all this easily… and for Pete's sake, if you repeat this to anyone I will deny it,” he said closing his eyes and gently shaking his head, “Sam loves you, really loves you. Both of you... it's real and it's rare. One bad decision does not break up real love, not the kind you and Sam have. It's once in a generation kind of love. We all know it. Cas knows it and he knew it from the moment he first saw you talking to Sam. So just… take it slow with him. We both know he can be dramatic.” He raised his eyebrows at you knowingly.
You forced a small smile and looked away. You didn’t want Dean to see the tears forming in your eyes. You gave yourself a second to collect yourself and turned back to him.
“Eat your sandwich or it’s gonna get soggy,” he exclaimed. He took another large bite of his and you tried not to laugh at him as he chewed like a cow.
As the evening approached you realized you had a dilemma. All your essentials were in your (or was it Sam’s?) room. The thought of sleeping in a room down the hall from Sam nauseated you… made it all too real. You were gonna have to face him again.
You took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
“Yeah?” Sam called. His tone gave you the feeling he thought it was Dean.
“Can I come in?” you replied.
There was a long pause.
“Yeah,” he said, finally. His tone had shifted and it made your heart race nervously.
Sam was lying in bed with a book in front of his face. The small lamp cast a faint, amber light across him. Your eyes locked on each other’s but his face was unreadable.
“I just… I needed some things… and I wasn’t sure if I should…could... sleep...,” you trailed off.
Sam stared at you.
“I can’t sleep without my pillow and your… uh, my pajama shirts…,” you finished lamely.
“I know,” he said, his lips twitching up at the corners briefly flashing a pitying smile. “It’s fine.” He glanced back down to his book and appeared to continue reading.
You were so desperate to be with him, to kiss him and tell him you loved him just as you would have only days ago that you lost any sense of shame you once had. You stood in front of your dresser, rifling through your clothes. You debated going to change in the bathroom but that seemed almost weirder than just changing in front of him.
You unhooked your bra and slid it out from your shirt sleeve, your nipples instantly hardened against the cold air of the bedroom. You unbuttoned your jeans and shimmied your hips as you pulled them down, past your ass which was now on full display, clad only in a thong. You leaned forward to pull each leg of your jeans over your feet so you could slide them all the way off. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you. You pulled your t-shirt over your head and tossed it along with everything else into the hamper.
Turning slightly, you angled yourself so that you could see Sam out of the corner of your eye. His gaze lingered on you, just over the top of his book. At this angle, Sam had a full side view of your tits and he seemed unable to look anywhere else but right at them. You imagined him cupping them and running his rough thumbs over your nipples like he’d done so many times before.
Sam’s arms were drifting slowly down, still holding his book but his eyes were locked on you. You turned back to the dresser and found a big, soft t-shirt of Sam’s and pulled it down over your head, lifting your arms up to slip the sleeves on. You paused before turning around and you could hear Sam’s heavy, rapid breaths. You took a deep breath yourself before turning around.
You straightened your shoulders and took a deep breath. “Is it weird if I sleep here?” you asked as you anxiously massaged your palm with your thumb. Sam’s book was back in front of his face and he avoided your gaze.
He cleared his throat. “I guess it’s alright,” he said, eyes trained on his book.
“I just don’t think I could sleep in that-”
“I said it was fine,” he interrupted, still without looking up. You considered for a moment whether you should stay. Sam was angry but sleeping next to an angry Sam was still better than no Sam at all you conceded.
You frowned to yourself and bit at your lip but you made your way to the bed all the same. A yawn escaped your lips as you pulled the blankets back and climbed in. Sam’s body was straight as a board and completely on his side of the bed like he was avoiding any chance that he might accidentally touch you. You curled up, facing away from him. He was still sitting up, reading his book.
Minutes passed with the both of you in silence. You wanted to talk to him. There was so much you wanted to say but you knew it wouldn’t do any good. You’d already explained your side and Sam was either gonna accept it… or he wasn’t.
Sam reached over to the lamp and pulled the string, plunging you both into total darkness. He turned onto his side, facing away from you. You listened. Sam’s breathing was still rapid and heavy but was starting to return to normal. You turned over so that you were facing his back. Your eyes adjusted and you were able to make out the back of his head, his fluff of hair, his neck, his shoulders. All you could think about was him: kissing him, touching him. You could see his jaw in your mind and you imagined planting your lips there and making your way to his lips…
And then suddenly out of the darkness as if he was reading your mind Sam said, “I didn’t appreciate that show you just put on.”
Your heart sunk. Your mind was suddenly a slurry of embarrassment and shame. Tears sprang to your eyes and you fought them back with everything you had.
“I just need you Sam… worse than I’ve ever needed you. And we both know with everything we’re feeling right now… you need me too. You’re just stonewalling.” You reached up and gingerly placed your hand over his where it was resting on his thigh.
Sam didn’t respond right away and you tried desperately to read his thoughts in the silence. The room was pitch dark and other than Sam’s heavy breathing and your heart beating in your ears, completely silent. But there was an energy in the room, between the two of you, different than the usual but still… intense.
Suddenly Sam spun around and you were face to face. He studied your surprised expression for a moment before your eyes locked on each others. He seemed exasperated but resolute. He closed the space between you and in one fell swoop, he held either side of your face in his hands and planted his lips fully on yours. He kissed you, sweetly and softly but there was a hunger there, too. You felt such an intense relief simply from his kiss that you thought if you’d been standing your legs would have surely given out. Which was not a thing you believed could happen in real life until this exact moment.
He pulled back just far enough to look into your eyes. “This doesn’t change anything,” he said. That look… that steadfast, stern gaze. Sam was always smiling at you or looking at you with adoration or lust… or both. He had never looked at you like that before. It made you want him even more… as if it was now your sole purpose in life to convince him why you belonged with each other, to remind him of what you had together.
You gave him a small nod and closed the space between your bodies, pressed your hands against his chest, and wrapped your top leg around his hips. He opened his mouth and you pressed your lips eagerly against his. He sucked on your bottom lip and you moaned happily into him. So desperate for each other after the tumultuous last few days, you both moved at a dizzying pace. He was slowly and gently bucking his hips against you. Your body was so close to his that each time he bucked his hips you could feel his partial erection press into you. He let go of your face with one hand and dove under your shirt to grasp one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger and tenderly rolled it and fondled it until you gasped from pleasure. You reached up and combed your fingers through his hair, tangling them in his locks. He gasped as you tugged ever so lightly. Sam’s lips left yours and he trailed big, wet kisses all over your face.
“Sam,” you sighed happily. He pulled away just long enough to help you slip your shirt off. He wrapped his arms around you, your bare chest pressed into his shirt. He slipped down so that his face was buried between your breasts. With one hand he continued to grip your back, holding you close to him, with the other, he cupped your breast and used his thumb to massage your already hard nipple. He was kissing and licking your breasts when suddenly his lips locked onto your free nipple. He held it between his lips, massaging and kissing it with his mouth before ever so gently biting it, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. He opened his eyes and looked up at you with the coyest smile you’d ever seen him wear.
You ducked your head down and nuzzled your forehead against the top of his head. He released your nipple from his lips and pulled himself back up to you. His lips were back on yours, one hand gently held your neck, steadying you, the other continued to delightfully toy with your nipple.
“Sam,” you moaned again against his mouth. You reached down and tugged up at the edge of his shirt. Sam broke away and quickly pulled his shirt up and tossed it across the bed before quickly finding you again. You trailed a hand across his chest and dragged one finger slowly down his side. You flattened your palm against him and traveled over his hips to slip it beneath the band of his boxers. You gripped his growing shaft gingerly in your hand. He bucked slightly into your grasp and you smiled as you nuzzled your face into his neck and kissed him repeatedly. His scent overwhelmed your mind and you felt dazed. He continued bucking his hips in time while you rhythmically, slowly moved your wrist up and down around his stiff cock.
“Y/n,” Sam said breathlessly.
“I want you,” you whispered against his neck, just below his ear. It was all the permission he needed. He slid his boxers off and without hesitation found your lips again. He kissed you hard and his tongue slipped out and slid between your lips. You parted your lips further so that Sam could deepen the kiss. His tongue was in your mouth and your body was covered in goosebumps.
Sam slid his hand suddenly under the fabric of your thong and went straight for your throbbing clit. You shrieked.
“Too much?” he asked, his lips right against your ear.
“...no,” you said as loudly as you could manage as you sharply inhaled.
He smirked and dove two fingers between your already dripping slit. He moved them up and down slowly and deliberately and you whimpered every time he grazed your clit. He continued his movements with one hand as he carefully slid your thong off with the other. You pulled your leg up so that he could easily slip them off that leg and in his rush, left them dangling off your other ankle. You kicked slightly to get them all the way off. Sam kissed you hungrily and bit at your bottom lip as he slid those two fingers, slick with your moisture, all the way inside you. He began curling them against your sensitive spot, a spot he knew perfectly. He curled them up and down, up and down, up and down. you gasped for air as you found it harder and harder to breathe. With his other hand, Sam was now caressing your clit in perfect time with his fingers pressing against your g-spot.
Minutes passed like this with Sam slowly increasing his speed until you were moaning and whimpering beneath him. Your body writhed uncontrollably and your hips bucked back against him. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed you. Finally, with Sam’s steady repetition, your mind went white and everything glazed over. Your legs started writhing and kicking as you came against Sam’s hand. He didn’t stop, though, despite your sensitivity. He pulled his finger away for a moment but as quickly as he could manage replaced them with his mouth. He pressed his tongue hard and flat against your opening and you had to stifle a scream. He licked up with the same pressure until he found your clit where he sucked it in between his lips and then swirled his tongue around it. You were still moaning and bucking wildly into his face. He grasped his hands tight around your ass so he could hold you steady while you continued coming. Sam kept his rhythm with his tongue, flat against your hole, firmly licking up, sucking on your clit and then swirling his tongue around it, again and again, and again and again until you let go again, even stronger this time. Your eyes squeezed shut and you screamed uncontrollably as your body convulsed. Sam held tight to your ass and kept his mouth planted right there in your pussy, elongating your orgasm as he continued holding pressure and swirling his tongue around your clit. You couldn’t see it but he was watching you intently. He never took his eyes away from you.
“Holy shit…,” you gasped between breaths. “Holy shit… holy shit.”
But Sam wasn’t done. He lifted you up and you locked your legs around his waist. He was kneeling across the bed and leaning back slightly while he held you in his arms. You were face to face now. Sam turned away and wiped your slick from his mouth onto his shoulder. He returned his lips to yours as he lifted your ass and plunged his shaft fully into you. You both moaned loudly with your mouths hung open against each other, breathing and moaning and gasping into each other. Sam lifted you again, almost all the way off, and then pulled you back down so far that you could feel his head pressing against your cervix.
“Ow,” you whimpered.
But Sam ignored you. For the first time since you’d known him, Sam didn’t seem to care if he hurt you. He lifted you up and plunged you back down around his cock again and again and again until the pain started to dissipate as your body grew used to it.
“Sam,” you whimpered as he plunged his cock deep into you again. This time when he lifted you off he cradled you in his arms. He laid you back down against the bed and climbed over you. He pushed your legs apart and gripped the base of his cock before sliding back into you. You bucked and writhed your hips against him as he pumped in and out of you, his balls slapping against you with each powerful thrust.
His face was pulled back from you now, watching you intently. He stared down at you, your face twisted with pleasure and desperate to catch your breath. His fingers found your nipples and he began fondling your breasts while he steadied himself by gripping hard to your back; so hard that it would surely leave a mark but you couldn’t care less, right now it just felt so good to feel his fingers digging into you. Sam was always so tender with you, even when you asked for more. If there was one silver lining to this, you were okay with this being it.
You looked up and locked eyes with him. He still had that stern look on his face. It almost made your heart stop. Part of you couldn’t get enough of that look but the other part of you, the guilty, ashamed part of you, wanted to cower from it.
He was thrusting faster and faster now and you could tell he was getting close because he’d had to drop his hand from your breasts as he lost focus and instead was now gripping your waist. Still, he managed to methodically massage your clit with his other thumb.
“Sam,” you moaned, louder this time. Hearing you again seemed to snap something awake in him because suddenly he seemed to be old Sam again. He ducked down and found your lips and pressed a sloppy, shaky kiss to you. He continued to kiss you, pulling your upper lip gently between his teeth. His thrusting reached max speed when finally his cock twitched violently inside of you. At the same moment, your cunt tightened around him as you climaxed again. You felt the warmth as his cock spurted thick streams of jizz against your insides. He moaned loudly and shouted before collapsing on top of you. Your pussy squeezed around him as if drawing more of his seed out. He nuzzled his face into your neck and sucked and kissed slowly and tenderly wherever his lips could reach. You were still writhing in pleasure and your breaths came shallow and rapidly as you struggled to catch your breath.
Sam’s cock was still slowly twitching inside of you, He moaned against your ear. Moments passed until he was recovered enough to pull out. You laid there momentarily stunned by the sudden emptiness as Sam rolled back over to his side of the bed. You laid there, side by side, both on your back, staring at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. You reached over and grasped at his hand. He pulled his hand away and turned on to his side, his back to you again. And there it was… the desperateness, the hollowness returning as Sam distanced himself from you. The sheets were wet where Sam’s mess had spilled out of you and your body chilled from the beads of sweat that covered you. Sam was always right there, cuddling and kissing you and cleaning up afterwards.
“Sam,” you whispered as you once again reached for him.
Summary: “Is it okay that I just want to know that you’re okay?”
Previous chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf
A/N: Hang tight, tonight’s gonna be a double feature. Ao3
On the third night, while trying to watch Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, you were both polishing off a bowl of popcorn Dean had made. You’d desperately tried to put on a happy face and enjoy the movie for his sake. He was trying so hard to help and you wanted him to feel like he was. But half way through the movie you just couldn’t do it anymore. You chugged what was left of your beer and stood up.
“I’m sorry, Dean but I think I’m just gonna go to sleep.”
“What?” he asked as he paused the movie. “Is it the movie? We can watch something else.”
“No, no. It’s not that… I’m just tired.”
Dean stood up and wrapped his arms around you, cradling the back of your head in his palm.
He was quiet. He’d run out of words to say.
“So many hugs lately,” you said with a wistful smile as he released you.
“Yeah, well… I don’t know about you but I kinda need ‘em,” Dean said, shrugging.
“I definitely do…,” you said as you took another step back. You decided not to acknowledge that he was definitely just saying that for your benefit. You both knew who really needed them.
“Are you gonna finish the movie?”
“Eh, it’s more fun with you,” he replied. He picked up the popcorn bowl and turned off the tv as you gathered the empty beer bottles. He followed behind you as you made your way to the kitchen.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nah, don’t be. I should get some shut eye, too. Listen, y/n… Sam caught a case nearby.”
You stopped dead in your tracks.
“When?”
“He called me earlier. I guess he got bored going all ‘Into the Wild’ and was checking the news and police scanners. I’ll tell you more about it in the morning, but I just wanted you to know.”
You nodded before slowly turning and continued toward the kitchen.
“Are you going, too?” you asked.
“Nah. I’m- we’re on standby. Sam will call if he needs us.”
“Us? Are you sure about that?”
“You’re part of the team. If you wanna go, we go,” he said, as he followed behind you and stepped down into the kitchen. You tossed the beer bottles and Dean set the empty popcorn bowl into the sink. He leaned his back against the counter and crossed his arms and legs.
“And you’re not not going because you both think someone needs to stay with the sad girl?” you asked.
Dean rolled his eyes playfully and smiled gently at you. “No, y/n, it’s because Sam’s a big boy and can handle one simple case on his own.”
You arched your brow at him.
“Sam said he could handle it, y/n. I wasn’t about to argue with him.”
“Well, there really is a first time for everything,” you quipped.
Dean’s eyes shot open in surprise as he watched you from across the room. “Okay, sassy-pants… First of all, I trust him to call if he needs help,” he said with a shrug.
You sighed and without even realizing it, clenched your fists. “If something happens to him, Dean, it’s on you.”
You spun around and took a tentative step toward the doorway when you heard him mutter,
“It always is.”
The guilt washed over you like a tsunami wave. Dean bore so much stress and guilt, not just for his family but for all of humanity, all while continuing to be a genuinely good person that lived in service of others, in service of the greater good. A beat passed before you quietly exhaled and turned back to Dean whose head was turned away from you as he clenched his jaw. You strode quickly to him and wrapped him tightly in a hug. Dean lifted his arms instinctively, hugging you back. “I’m sorry,” you said, the sound muffled against his chest. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I know… and you know that I- I’ll always...Sam is...” Dean began before faltering over his inability to express any real emotions. “Anyways…”
You stepped back and nodded. “I know,” you said.
“Alright, well, get some sleep,” he said. He walked up to you and firmly pressed a sideways kiss to the crown of your head and squeezed your shoulder before walking out of the room.
You tossed and turned for hours. The previous nights had been bad enough but you were able to sleep knowing he was out camping, doing something that theoretically made him happy. But now your mind was racing with all the bad things that might be going wrong on his hunt.
You had to fight every urge to not pick up your phone and call him. If he was okay, and everything was fine, calling him now, well, you didn’t know exactly what Sam’s current feelings for you were… the fact that he could go on a hunt and not even tell you felt pretty cold. Sam wasn’t exactly the teach-them-a-lesson type but then again, if he was mad enough, passively tormenting you was absolutely his M.O. And you definitely felt tormented. Which meant he was still mad, right?
“Screw it,” you muttered as you reached over to your nightstand and picked up your phone. The light cascaded across your face, momentarily blinding you. When your eyes were able to focus, you opened your messages to Sam and despite your better judgment, scrolled through your last few conversations.
3/19 11:47 pm
Sam: “I’m on Fire” just came up on my shuffle.
You: I love that song.
Sam: I love you. Makes me miss you even more than I already do.
You: Please come home
Sam: We should be heading back tomorrow. How’s research going?
You: Please...
Sam: If I could, I’d already be there
You: I need you…
Sam: Not now… I’m in the car with Dean… I’ll call you as soon as I can.
You: :(
Sam: I promise
You: okay… <3
Sam: <3
2/27 6:07pm
Sam: Where are you?
You: We’re twenty minutes away.
Sam: You said 6.
You: I’m sorry. It’s Dean’s fault, I swear.
Sam: Ok, be careful. Saving us a table on the balcony.
You: <3
Sam: <3 <3 <3
You: <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
You smiled beside yourself as you remembered at that point Dean had smacked the phone out of your hand and muttered something about you two being disgusting.
Again, you scrolled further up.
2/14 5:08 am
Sam: Happy Valentine’s Day <3
2/14 8:43 am
You: You’re literally in bed next to me.
Sam: I couldn’t wait :)
1/30 1:48 am
You: Dean
Sam: ?
You: hurt
Sam: *1 Missed call*
Sam: Turn on your location tracking
Sam: y/n!
Sam: *2 Missed calls*
You winced as you remembered Dean getting jumped on that vamp hunt. It was bad. Really bad. You were trying to stifle the blood by applying pressure to Dean’s wound on his stomach while quickly sending Sam a text out of desperation with your less bloodied hand. Dean was bleeding out as you let Sam’s calls go unanswered. Dean wouldn’t stop yelling at you to leave him as he tried to push you off. The rest of the nest would’ve been close behind. You had no idea how long you had. That night you’d yelled at Dean like you never had before.
“DEAN!” you shouted, your face a mere few inches from his.
“You STUBBORN son-of-a-bitch! Lay the FUCK down and let me help you, you IDIOT."
Dean’s eyes grew wide with surprise and fear as he finally gave in to your attempts to push him to lie down flat so you could examine him more closely. His blood was soaking through his shirt and the flannel you’d pulled off yourself to use to help you apply pressure. Your hands were slick with his blood. You couldn’t waste another second.
“Dean, we need to lower your heart rate. Picture yourself on a beach somewhere, asleep in a hammock, drunk off strawberry daiquiri's... or, you know, whatever your happy place is.”
Dean took a deep, steadying breath. “Seychelles always sounded nice,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“Can you stand?”
Somehow, probably mostly adrenaline, you’d managed to help him up. He slumped his arm across your shoulders and leaned his weight against you, using you as a human crutch. You’d had to coordinate your steps as you made your way to the Impala. You fished in Dean’s jacket pocket and pulled the keys out and once he was settled in the backseat you peeled out, leaving a trail of dust and rocks spitting from the Impala’s tires.
“Now that I have that awful memory fresh in my mind, might as well make it even worse,” you whispered to yourself as you quickly scrolled back down and began typing out a message to Sam. Your finger hovered over the ‘send’ button momentarily before…
4/4 2:11 am
You: Is it okay that I just want to know that you’re okay?
You watched as the message turned to ‘read’ and the little bubble popped up, telling you Sam was replying and your heart almost stopped. You hadn’t spoken to him in day, the mere idea of him sending you a message excited you.
4/4 2:11 am
Sam: Yes. And yes, I’m okay.
You sighed in relief. Your fingers hovered over the phone’s keyboard for a moment. You wanted so badly to tell him how you missed him, how much you loved him, and how desperately sorry you were. But you knew not to push your luck. So, you accepted Sam’s answer as the most peace you were gonna get.
You nestled into your pillows and pulled your phone in close to your face. You started to type back a thank you when you noticed the little bubble popped up. Sam was typing. You watched as the bubble remained on the screen for several moments before disappearing. No text ever came through from Sam. You forced yourself not to read into it and chalked it up to Sam being tired.
4/4 2:13 am
You: Thank you
You stared at your screen as once again the text turned to ‘read’ and after a moment the bubble appeared once again. Somewhere on the other side of your screen was Sam, staring at his screen, typing a message to you. Was it good? Was it bad? Apparently, you weren’t going to find out any time soon because once again he stopped typing with no reply ever coming through.
You rolled your eyes and set your phone back onto the nightstand and drifted off to sleep.
***
“What is it?” you asked.
You had just entered the kitchen and found Dean sitting at the table. He was staring at his phone with his brows furrowed as he picked at the beer label on the bottle in front of him.
“Huh? Oh… nothing,” he said as he continued to furrow his brows while staring at his phone screen without so much as a glance in your direction.
“Dean?”
“It’s nothing,” he said as he set his phone down and locked the screen with an audible ‘click’. He glanced up at you, frozen in the doorway, and smiled gently.
You exhaled and trotted down the steps before plopping down on the stool across from him.
Dean studied you for a moment. You seemed more affable than you had since before the last time you’d left the bunker. Before all of this had begun.
“Okay…,” you hedged. “Again, I ask… what is it?”
Dean sighed and shrugged. “Sam…,” he started.
You immediately stiffened. Dean took a deep breath.
“I haven’t heard from him for a few hours.”
You inhaled sharply.
“When?” you asked once you were able to catch your breath.
Dean took a moment as he tried to make sense of your question. You bugged your eyes out at him as the seconds ticked past.
“Um, like, six hours ago. That was the last time I heard from him.”
“And you’ve tried calling him?”
“Yeah, a few times.”
“Okay…,” you considered the information as you bit your bottom lip. “And… we’re not panicking?” you asked.
Dean shrugged his shoulders as he picked at the peeling beer label. “We both know Sam can sometimes lose track of time when he’s on a case.”
“That’s true,” you said as you took a deep breath.
That night you found yourself half asleep in your bed, unable to fully give in after learning Sam hadn’t been in touch. You were trying to brush it off and play cool, like Dean, but you only had so much patience to give before worry set in. And worry was creeping in at the edges of your mind.
Suddenly, you heard your bedroom door creak open. It must be Dean wanting to let you know he’d heard from Sam, which he promised to do the second it happened.
A shadow stood in the doorway gilded by the amber glow of the hall lights. You knew instantly… the hair… the shoulders… It was Sam. Your heart stopped and your breath caught in your throat as he stood, towering in the doorway.
Secrets and Lies: Chapter 7.5 - Basterds, Tears and Mother Hens
Pairing: Sam x Reader
(This chapter is just Dean and Reader)
Word Count: 3021
Summary: You and Dean spend some lazy days in the bunker as he does his best to help you deal with Sam's absence.
Previous chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven
A/N: Link to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Thanks for reading :) It means a lot to me when you take the time to like/reblog or leave a comment letting me know you liked my story. I appreciate all of you <3
You finished off your coffee and before you could even set the mug back down on the table Dean pulled it out of your hand made his way to the coffee pot and poured you a second cup.
“Thanks,” you said softly as you once again wrapped your hands around the mug and pulled it close to you. “What time is it anyway?” you asked. It was easy enough to lose track of time in the bunker under normal circumstances.
“Eleven,” Dean replied.
You groaned before lifting your cup to your lips and took a sip. “I really kinda hoped I could just sleep until… until he comes back. Then I wouldn’t have to feel it.”
Dean studied your expression silently before holding his mug aloft, toward you. “To healthy coping mechanisms,” he said.
With the evening fast approaching, Dean found you curled up in your bed reading a book as you tried to distract yourself.
“Studying?” Dean asked as he tilted his head to the side to try and read the name of the heavy book you were holding.
You nodded.
“Studying monster lore?” he grimaced.
You groaned as you sat up and laid the heavy book down. “Is that alright with you?” you asked as you stared grumpily at him.
He chuckled and shook his head as he stepped into your room. “Don’t know how I didn’t see you two coming from a mile away,” he muttered to himself.
You ignored the comment.
“Do you… maybe wanna watch a movie?” he asked.
“.... I suppose I could do that,” you replied with a small shrug. You did not mention that you weren’t sure how much attention you’d actually be able to pay to it. But as long as Dean thought he was helping, that meant something to you.
“I mean, far be it for me to pull you away from being the world’s biggest nerd,” he said, throwing his hands in the air, eliciting a faint chuckle from you.
“Watch it,” you said with a smile as you stood up from the bed, leaving the huge book behind on your bed.
A few moments later you were in the TV room, one of the bunker’s extra rooms that Dean had converted into a sort of, very small, living room, comprised of a small loveseat, Dean’s recliner, and a decent sized tv with surround sound speakers that he was especially proud of.
“Did you have any particular movie in mind?” you asked.
“Not really,” he said.
You laid across the loveseat and wrapped yourself tightly in your fluffy, warm comforter. Dean, meanwhile, was crouched in front of the TV flipping through all the movies he had downloaded onto his thumb drive. The movie titles and thumbnails were flicking across the screen seemingly in no particular order as Dean struggled to choose.
Zoolander, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Bruce Almighty, Tombstone, Jurassic Park, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, The Exorcist, Guardians of the Galaxy, Hell Hazers, Hell Hazers II, Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Rosemary’s Baby, That Thing You Do.
“Do you know what you’re looking for there, pal?” you finally asked.
“Well… I couldn’t decide what was a, uh… safe genre… I thought maybe inspiration would strike if I was looking at everything but none of these feel right.”
“Can I see the remote?” you asked. Dean shrugged and passed it over as he sat down in the recliner and kicked the footrest out with a contented sigh. You sorted the movies alphabetically and thumbed quickly down to the ‘I’s’.
You scrolled past In Bruges, Inception, Indiana Jones et. al., until finally… “Inglorious Basterds,” you said with a small smile as you clicked ‘play’ on the remote.
“Hmm, interesting choice,” Dean said with a curious nod as he picked up his beer from the end table and took a long pull.
You glanced at Dean out of the corner of your eyes. “We're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' Nazis,” you said, doing a nearly spot-on impression of Brad Pitt’s Lt. Aldo Raine.
Dean raised an approving brow and nodded his head as you smirked at him.
Midway through the movie Dean glanced at his phone nonchalantly and then suddenly got up and left the room without saying anything. You thought a few moments later that you had heard the bunker door open but over the sound of the violence on screen blaring through the surround-sound speakers, it was hard to tell so you shrugged it off. A few minutes later you heard Dean making his way back down the hall and the smell of something warm and cheesy and delicious caused your stomach to growl loudly.
Dean entered the room with a giant smile, carrying three giant boxes of pizza.
“Oh my god…,” you whispered.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Dean said with a huge grin. He set the boxes down on the coffee table in front of you picked up both plates he’d piled on top and handed one to you. You sat up and Dean pulled the lid open on the top box. The smell overpowered you and you felt your stomach rumble violently again. Dean chuckled.
“That would be a yes,” he muttered with a grin. You blushed in embarrassment.
Dean had ordered your favorite pizza and your mouth was watering from the smell. As Dean held the box open for you, you reached in, pulled out two pieces, and carefully slid them onto your plate. You were so hungry but somehow despite the drive the delivery person must have made, the cheese was practically still bubbling.
“Thank you, Dean,” you said as you set the plate down to cool and wrapped your arms around your stomach.
Dean smiled as his eyes bounced between the TV screen and the pizza boxes he was shuffling to find his own, specially ordered, pizza. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
“Well, if this is it old boy, I hope you don’t mind if I go out speaking the kings?” Lt. Hicox said on the screen as you repeated the line over him.
“That was a terrible British accent,” Dean said, in an even worse, nearly offensive, British accent. You both started laughing and you picked up your plate, finally diving into the somewhat cooled pizza.
By the time the movie ended, you’d each polished off one full box each.
“Oh my god, I’m so full,” you groaned as you stretched your arms above your head and stood up from the couch.
“I’m glad you finally ate something,” Dean said as he pulled the footrest back into the recliner and stood up.
“Oh Dean, always so parental,” you said with a teasing smirk. Dean shrugged before picking up the remaining pizza box. You picked up the dirty plates and he followed you out of the room and down the hall as you made your way to the kitchen.
“Yeah, well, I did save your life, ya know. Kinda tends to make me-”
“Mother Hen?” You interrupted.
“What?” he said, appalled. “No… I… protective,” he finished with a confident shrug.
“Please, you’re protective of everyone,” you said as you crossed the threshold into the kitchen. You made your way to the sink and set the two plates down, turned the water faucet on, and waited for it to get hot. You turned around and rested your back against the sink’s edge and crossed your arms across your chest.
“Yeah, but… you know… the people I already saved once… I tend to care a lot more that it… sticks,” he said. He shrugged before opening one of the refrigerator doors and making room to slide the full extra pizza box in.
You chuckled. “Okay… I’m not gonna push it. But being protective is literally just a facet of being parental,” you said emphatically.
“Well, excuse me for caring,” Dean said.
“I’m just teasing you,” you said as you shot him a wink.
“Yeah, yeah. So… did watching Brad Pitt and Ryan Howard kill a bunch of Nazis violently cheer you up?” he asked as he made his way across the kitchen, toward you.
“You know what… I don’t know what this says about me but… it actually kinda did,” you said with a chuckle.
“Glad to hear it,” Dean said with a smile. “And, for the record, I’d say that’s the hunter in you.”
“Speaking of hunters… have you… heard from him?” you asked.
“Smooth transition,” he said with a teasing smirk.
“I’m sorry, you knew I was going to ask,” you said.
He nodded. “This morning. He sent me his coordinates and let me know he was good. Told him to call if he needed anything.”
You turned around and started rinsing the plates. “Okay, that’s… that’s good,” you said. You picked up the sponge and squeezed some dish soap onto it.
“He did ask about you if that’s what you’re not asking,” Dean replied.
You hesitated. “What did he ask?” you asked as you stared intently at the soap sudsing up on the white ceramic.
“Just… you know… wondered how you were,” he said.
“Oh, okay.”
You wanted to ask how Dean had answered, but you knew already it was the truth and you hated to imagine Sam thinking about you, all pathetic and sad and alone so you didn’t push it.
You finished rinsing the plates and moved them to the drying rack. You felt the tears prickle suddenly at the corners of your eyes, unable to stop yourself from imagining hearing Sam or imagining him wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you close in the warmest hug. You leaned over the sink, steadying yourself by gripping the counter, and took a deep breath before pulling the sleeve of your shirt over your hand and used the back of it to wipe at your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you started, your voice cracking. “We were having such a good night and I ruined it.”
“I’m still having a nice night,” he said.
“Thank you, Dean,” you whispered.
“Anything for you, kid.”
You turned around and wrapped your arms tightly around him. “Seriously, Dean. I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I don’t just mean right now.”
“Well, the feeling’s mutual then,” he replied.
“I just wish I could talk to him,” you said. “Not him from last night… the usual him. I miss him so much it feels like my insides are imploding.”
You let go and stepped back. “I think I’m gonna go be alone for a while,” you said.
Dean nodded as you turned and made your way back to your bedroom. You were about to climb into bed when you realized your blanket was still in the TV room. On your way back to retrieve it you heard Dean’s voice coming from the kitchen. You quietly stepped toward the doorway, just close enough to hear him.
“Yeah, we watched a movie, Cas dropped off some pizzas. What about you?”
A beat passed as the person on the other end of the line responded.
“Hiking?” You could hear the disgust in Dean’s voice as he repeated it. You knew then he was talking to Sam. “Have you become one with nature yet?” he asked while chuckling proudly to himself.
...
“It is funny dude. Your girl’s over here all torn up and I’m picking up the pieces because you decided to get away for the weekend,” you could hear the anger in Dean’s voice starting to rise.
...
“It is fair, man! She made a stupid mistake. She knows she did. She’s sorry. You know you’re going to forgive her and-”
...
“Don’t be stupid. We both know you’re not going to break it off with her.” Dean was angry but you could swear there was a hint of worry in his voice as he shouted. Your stomach sank. You could feel your heart beating in your ears.
...
“Over my dead body, Sam,” Dean said through his teeth. “I will do whatever I have to do to fix this, do you hear me? You’re being dramatic and you know it!”
...
“Yes, Sam. I’m completely serious. And even if you do, you’re gonna have to learn to live with each other because I’m not making her leave.”
.........
“I pulled her ass out of purgatory, Sammy. And after what happened to her family… I’m not taking this away from her.”
Another long beat passed.
“Thank you,” Dean replied. Sam must have agreed that, at least, could be off the table. Although it was hard for you to imagine being around Sam and not being able to touch him… or kiss him… You tried to not let your mind wander too far down that road.
“Alright… alright… be careful, man. Get some rest… get your head right, ya hear me? … Call us if you need anything.”
Worried that Dean would find you listening, you peeked around the door frame and saw that he had his back to the doorway. You quickly and silently made it the rest of the way to the TV room to fetch your blanket.
You heard Dean’s footsteps coming down the hall. You picked up your comforter and folded it into your arms. Dean spotted you as he passed the doorway and paused there in the hall to smile at you. You wondered how he was able to flip it on so easily before remembering between his dad and Sam, he’d probably had a lifetime of practice.
“Hey,” he said as if the entire conversation you’d just overheard hadn’t happened. You wondered if you should give it up or keep pretending.
“Hey,” you said, giving him a gentle smile. “You know… it’s kinda scary how easily you can flip it on and off.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Cas delivered the pizzas. That’s why they were still so hot. I knew you wouldn’t trust a delivery guy with the address out here. Not to mention the amount of time it would take someone to get here.”
Dean tilted his head as his eyes narrowed in confusion for a brief moment before his face fell.
“You heard that, huh?” he asked as he stepped into the room.
You nodded.
“Well, I meant it. No matter what, you’re not leaving.”
“Dean… I asked Cas to erase your memory too.”
“What?”
“I told Cas… that if Sam had called you and told you what happened… he’d have to erase your memory, too.”
Dean considered it for a moment.
“I don’t care,” he said with a shrug.
“Come on, stop being stoic.”
“I’m serious, y/n. I don’t care.”
You couldn’t have needed to hear three words more. Two warm rivulets of tears began streaking down your cheeks.
“Really?” you asked, your voice cracking.
“Really,” he replied. He stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around you, blanket and all, and pulled you into one of his big, warm hugs. “You drew the short stick and you made the most of it that you could. Besides…” Dean hesitated. “I made a similar choice to protect two people I loved once.”
You were sobbing into his chest as he held the back of your head, keeping you close to him. “Maybe Sam doesn’t see it the way I do… but me and you, we know loss in a way Sammy has never really had to. Losing your family, your home, everything in such a short span of time. The only difference is you were stuck in purgatory and I was on the road, stuck in sketchy motels. I know Sammy lost Jess, but he still had a choice in what came after. We didn’t. So, yeah, of course when you thought you might lose the only good things in your life, you panicked. Maybe you overreacted. Maybe Sam wouldn’t have made the same call I did to protect Lisa and Ben... he was pretty pissed at me for that. But I had always thought if it had been him in my shoes… he’d have done the same damn thing.”
You kept crying as Dean sat down on the couch and pulled you down along with him.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. You were heaving, big heavy sobs now as you twisted his shirt in your fists. His front was drenched from your tears and you could feel yourself wanting to apologize but knowing full well Dean truly could not care less. The minutes ticked by as you sat there.
At some point in all the crying, you dozed off without noticing. Dean sat there, holding you for hours until he, too, fell asleep. When you woke up hours later you found Dean had pulled his legs onto the couch and you had slept on top of him, your face nestled into his chest where you’d been crying. But Dean had pulled a portion of your blanket across his chest so that you had a dry place to rest your head. It wasn’t exactly the most kosher sleeping position but you missed Sam so much that laying there with Dean… you could almost pretend. So you let yourself, just for a moment, pretend... You pulled yourself up and nestled into Dean’s neck and pretended… pretended he was someone else.
You laid there like that for a few minutes before realizing that if Dean woke up he’d feel guilty, even though he had no reason to, so you peeled yourself off him and carefully climbed off, being sure to not wake him.
After carefully setting a blanket over Dean, you made your way back to your bedroom and flopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh. Absentmindedly you picked up your phone from the nightstand to check the time. It was six-thirty in the morning. You set your phone back down and stared at the ceiling. Sam just needs time, you reminded yourself.
You pulled your legs up and curled onto your side and imagined Sam’s warm body was wrapped around you. It didn’t take long after finding comfort in the memories of Sam’s warmth and love for you to fall back asleep.
Summary: Sam and the reader talk. Dean goes into mother hen mode. It's pretty cute.
Previous chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six
A/N: Link to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Thanks for reading :) It means a lot to me when you take the time to like/reblog or leave a comment letting me know you liked my story. I appreciate all of you <3
You laid there, frozen and speechless. You expected him to still be mad. Sleeping with him wouldn’t immediately change how he felt and you weren’t naïve enough to think otherwise. But to just leave you dirty and cold and hurting… you felt cheap and used. You pushed yourself up and laid your head down on your pillow as you curled into yourself. Never did you imagine that sleeping with Sam would make you feel so much worse.
You wanted to cry. All the tension and stress in your body that had just melted away from his touch had returned in an instant. But you were so numb to it all by now that the tears wouldn’t come. The only sound in the room was Sam’s sharp, shallow breaths as he brooded. You imagined him laying there with a scowl on his face as he contemplated everything and tried to justify his choices… or maybe he was berating himself. A day ago all you wanted was for Sam to be able to let go of all the guilt he felt but now… now a small part of you hoped it consumed him.
Moments ticked past as you found your strength and resolve. When you were ready you sat up and fished around the area on the bed where you thought your shirt landed. Quickly, you pulled it on. You stood up and as you did so, Sam rolled over and faced you. You ignored him and reached for your pillow. Sam stretched his arm out and grasped your hand in his.
“Wait…,” he whispered. “Come back… please.”
You didn’t move. “What the fuck was that, Sam?” you said as calmly as you could manage. He scrambled to your side and sat back on his knees, covering his naked lower half with the top sheet. Still holding your hand in his, he placed his other over the top and gently caressed it.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please come back,” he pleaded. Even in the darkness you could still make out his sweet, sad eyes.
“I know I fucked up but that doesn’t mean you can treat me like I’m trash,” you said, your voice cracking as you fought your emotions.
The room was quiet for a long minute until you heard Sam sniffle and realized he had been crying.
“You’re the most precious thing in the world to me,” he said, finally. He lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a long, lingering kiss to your knuckles. He drug his lips across the back of your hand and repeatedly pressed soft, little kisses to your skin. His kisses mixed with his tears. He pulled your hand across his wet cheek and leaned into it as he yearned to be closer to you.
“Please stay and let’s talk,” he begged.
You turned your hand over and cupped his tear-stained jaw. He gazed up at you, his eyes weepy and wide as he studied every minute detail of your facial expressions in an attempt to detect what you were thinking. You looked up toward the ceiling, knowing that looking into Sam’s eyes wouldn’t allow you to be objective. As you held his jaw you caressed your thumb up and down his cheek. Despite everything you couldn’t help but comfort him.
You gave yourself a moment to think but there was no logic or reason that could drown out your heart. You sighed as you caved in. You dropped your hand from his face and pulled the string on your bedside lamp, casting an amber glow across the room. You needed to see him, to see his face as he explained. You sat next to him on the bed and hung your head as you stared down and fiddled with your fingers. Sam reached over and covered one of your hands in his and gave it a light squeeze.
“You hurt me, you did, but that doesn’t justify me behaving like an asshole,” he said, still grasping his hand over yours. You let go of your hand and turned it over in his. He laced his fingers with yours as he spoke, almost as if on instinct. “But the way you just came here and teased me and told me you needed me… with everything I’m feeling… and the fight we just had this afternoon… and you wanted me to- to what? To just act like it hadn’t happened and fuck you like everything was normal between us? I felt like you were using me… like I was a means to an end… and it pissed me off… but you know I can’t say no to you.” He hesitated as he thought over his words. “And you were right, of course I needed you too, but I wasn’t going to act on it… and I also couldn’t let go of my anger either and I’m sorry… I should have… I should have…,” he trailed off.
You let go of his hand and pushed yourself back on the bed where you crisscrossed your legs. Sam followed suit. You sat quietly as you thought over his words. You hadn’t considered that he also might feel used after you, well, basically used him for sex.
“I um… I didn’t think of it from your side,” you said. “I guess I can understand that it would seem like that… but… I love you,” you said matter of factly. “Sex is a physical need, yes, but I- when I say I need you… I don’t just mean fucking. I need you to hold me and love me and tell me everything’s gonna be okay even if it’s not with your words.”
“I get that, I do, but I still need time to think about what you did…,” he said. You felt your heart begin to splinter again.
“Just because I love you… and I do, you know that I do, completely and totally love you, it doesn’t mean I can just forgive you and move on like this didn’t hurt me. I know to Dean it might seem like something I should just get over but you know, and I know you know because that’s why you hid it from me, that I grew up with no control over my life or my choices. Zero control. And then, Dean… The first time he brought me back, he told me I had just been hurt and he let me go a whole day not knowing I’d died and making me believe something that wasn’t even true. I’ve lost track of all the things he’s kept from me and manipulated my memories over and it almost tore us apart so often… this is my line. You know that. Maybe you didn’t know it so well back then but by now you do. I just… I need time to think about what happened. And on top of that, I’m processing having to see you, broken and… and all I could do was hold you… If Cas hadn’t been there… I don’t know what would have happened. I can’t just flip a switch and get over that in one afternoon.”
At some point while Sam spoke tears had begun streaming from your eyes. You nodded gently at him as you mulled over his words. Sam still wasn’t sure he could stay with you… that was a bit of a blow but you knew it wasn’t going to be that easy to get over, either.
You pushed yourself up and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your tear-stained cheek against his. Sam welcomed the embrace and inhaled deeply as he wrapped his arms around your back and held tightly to you.
“I’m so sorry, Sam,” you whispered into his ear.
“I know,” he replied. “Come ‘ere.” He lowered his arms and gripped you tight around your waist. He leaned back slightly so that you could easily pull your legs forward. You wrapped them around his waist. You were still in nothing but a t-shirt and only a sheet covered his lower half but there was nothing tempting or sexual about it. He squeezed his arms around you and despite the coldness of the room you felt covered in the warmth of him.
He held you tightly like that for so long you lost track of time. You almost could have fallen asleep right there, your face resting against his, your chests rising and falling together. It was just quiet, and cozy and days ago it would have been endlessly blissful but now… now you weren’t sure if this was going to be the beginning of the end… if you were going to have to start getting used to a new kind of relationship with Sam.
You turned your head and pressed a light kiss to Sam’s jaw, just beside his ear. You planted a trail of kisses as you moved down his jawline, his stubble scratching your lips as you went. Your lips connected and you wanted so badly to deepen the kiss but you kept it light. The more you kissed, however gentle and innocent you were keeping it, neither of you could help how heavy your breathing was getting. You squeezed your eyes shut tight as you let go of his lips and moved to cradle the back of his head and pressed your forehead to his.
“Do you want to shower?” he whispered.
“Together?” you asked.
“Well, that’s what we usually do. And… I think I owe it to you…” he said quietly.
You shook your head slowly, rocking your forehead against his. “You don’t,” you said. You peeled yourself off of him and moved to climb off the bed but Sam grabbed your hand and held you there. Your eyes locked.
“Okay, then, I want to,” he said with an innocent smirk.
“Well, I don’t,” you replied.
Sam’s face fell.
“You need space to think, remember?” you said, waving your free hand. Sam swallowed hard and looked away from you as he dropped your hand. “I don’t think we should confuse these lines any more than we have.”
“Yeah,” he said while shaking his head. “You’re right… I did say that.”
“And so I’m going to give you that space because the sooner we start, the sooner I might get you back,” you said. You turned around, leaned forward and grasped either side of his face in your hands as your eyes locked together. You kissed him, long and lingering, as if willing him to remember why he loved you so much to begin with. Finally you pulled away and said, “Just, promise me you’ll take your time, and don’t come back to me until you're one hundred percet positive. Either way.”
He bit at the inside of his cheek and gave you a single nod before looking down at his hands as you left the room.
You were exhausted but you also weren’t going to be able to sleep until you rinsed off. After all the emotions of the day you decided to light a few aromatherapy candles that you already had stashed in the bathroom and only turned on the secondary light to see while you showered. You didn’t want all the fluorescents on, waking you back up and making it even harder for you to sleep. You showered quickly but still took the time to let the hot water and pressure loosen your muscles and relax you.
As you entered your room you found that Sam had left your pillow and a stack of a few of your favorite shirts and underwear and pajama pants on the bed. “Thoughtful, little shit,” you thought.
Somehow you managed to fall asleep. It was a restless sleep and you lost track of the number of times you woke up and glanced over at the clock on your nightstand. It didn’t help that you weren’t at all used to the bed or the blankets. Granted, it was more the lack of Sam that made it hard to sleep, considering it was always easy to sleep in any number of the motels you checked-in to.
The next morning you stirred at the sound of your door creaking open. Your pillow was still damp from where you’d cried yourself to sleep and your eyes were puffy and strained as you opened them to see Dean taking a seat at the foot of your bed. He gently patted your leg over the blanket.
“Hey, kid.”
You said nothing.
“How you doin’?” he asked.
“Oh, just peachy,” you said derisively as you rolled over to the other side, away from Dean, and pulled your comforter up to your chin.
“Come on, let’s get up, we’ll go see a movie in town. Or we could go somewhere. Where you wanna go? The beach? Disneyland? Seattle? We’ll just get in the car and go,” he said, trying his best to sound cheerful, as if packing up and leaving suddenly was a normal suggestion. Something about his tone just made your stomach drop further into the floor. You couldn’t recall ever hearing Dean try so hard.
He sighed. “Look, kid. Sam…” he hesitated and you felt your heart stop. “Sam left.”
You sat up as quickly as you could manage, still holding your comforter up to your chin like a shield. “Dean, you promised,” you said, your voice heavy with unshed tears.
Dean was rubbing your foot over the blanket. “I know but he just needs space to think. He said he can’t do that here, and you know he’s right. He went camping,” he said with a shrug. “Don’t ask me what he thinks he’ll get out of that. I mean, I wouldn’t get anything out of it.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Did he take the satellite phone?” you asked.
“Yeah, I made sure he took it. I also made him promise to call me or text me his coordinates just in case.”
You looked away and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand as you tried to quell them.
“Honestly, I think this is a good sign.”
You turned back to him. “You do?”
“Yeah, he’s gonna go out there and he’s gonna get so bored all he’s gonna be able to do is think about you and how much he misses you.” You could tell it pained him slightly to say something even as slightly mushy as that.
“I just want him to be okay,” you said quietly as your tears started up again. “Dammit! I also would love to stop crying… Although I suppose I deserve this torture… not knowing where Sam is… or what he’s thinking… this is my punishment.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, standing up from the bed. “Shit happens. We all know that. And you made a rash, emotional decision. Sam and I aren’t exactly unfamiliar with that.”
“I just… I know what he’s been through. I know the way his mind has been fucked with and I just… I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for doing the same thing to him, no matter how it stacks up in comparison. Bad is bad. The scale doesn’t really matter.”
Dean sighed as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Well, you’re not gonna feel any better laying in bed all day doing nothing but dwelling on it. Come on, what do you want for breakfast? Kitchens open,” Dean said as he gestured openly with his arms.
“Dean, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I can’t even think about food right now,” you said as you flopped back down on your pillow and pulled the cover all the way up to your ears.
“Alright, I’ll give you some more time. But I will not promise to leave you alone if I get bored. Which could be fifteen minutes or a few hours from now,” he said as he walked out the door and shut it behind him.
Alone with your thoughts, your mind started racing again. You imagined all the scenarios of how this might play out. Sam might call and ask you to pack up all your stuff and be out of the bunker by the end of the week. Sam could rush back through the bunker doors and run to you, wrapping you tightly in a hug and kissing you like he’d spent years longing for you. He could come back and brood for a few more days before saying you need to leave because he can’t even stand the sight of you. Would Dean allow that? Dean was your best friend before you even met Sam. How would Dean cope with you leaving? Would he stand by and let it happen? No… he wouldn’t. That much you knew. Not that he’d choose you over Sam. But he’d make you both find a way to live together. You were Dean’s family now and he wouldn’t let anything break up his family. Not even broken hearts.
At some point in all your musings, you fell back asleep. It felt so good to fall into a state of nothingness, for hours to pass where you didn’t have to think or move or speak. You were dead to the world and it felt amazing. When you stirred awake your gut instinct was disappointment… until you realized the reason you woke was because of a blaring alarm coming from down the hall. You jumped up, slid into your slippers, wrapped your blanket around you like a cape so that you didn’t get too cold in the always freezing bunker, and rushed quickly down the hall to the alarm.
As soon as you turned the corner off the hallway you were hit with a cloud of smoke and the smell of something burning.
“Dean…” you groaned to yourself. Part of you was tempted to just go back to bed and let him figure it out. But you at least needed to make sure he was okay before doing that. As you approached the kitchen door you could hear him yelling at the alarm and jumping up and down while waving a plate at it.
You walked in, laid your blanket down on the table, fished a baking sheet out from the island’s cubbies and walked over to Dean who was still jumping to reach the alarm.
“Move,” you said.
Dean jumped slightly. “Heeey, you’re up,” he said smiling sheepishly as he slid out of the way.
“Go make sure the ventilation system is on,” you replied flatly as you began fanning the smoke alarm in an attempt to get fresh air to it. Dean nodded and rushed out of the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later, the alarm still blaring, but you could hear the ventilation had kicked in and the smoke was starting to clear. You gave yourself a break and set the baking sheet down on the counter before pulling your blanket back around you and plopping down at the dinner table. You were wearing a long-sleeved, baggy Stanford University t-shirt of Sam’s alongside your favorite pajama pants that Sam had given you last Christmas. They had a snowflake and polar bear pattern that always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. It was the beginning of July but as long as you were cozy, that was all you really cared about. You inhaled and realized the shirt still smelled like Sam and your heart sank. Despite that, the smell of him still comforted some deep, buried part of you.
A few moments later the alarm finally stopped it’s incessant beeping. You looked around the kitchen and saw that Dean had been making something akin to pancakes. There was a pan in the sink coated in a charred batter.
“Sorry about that,” he said with a faint blush as he sat down across from you.
“S’okay,” you muttered.
“I was trying to make you breakfast.”
You winced at the thought of food. Your stomach was in such knots there was no way you could possibly eat.
“I’d settle for a cup of coffee,” you said.
“Comin’ right up!” He jumped up and pulled a clean mug off the drying rack. He filled the mug and returned it, prepared exactly how you like it. He knew it by heart. Before sitting down he dumped out the grounds, refilled the filter and began brewing a fresh pot.
“Got your favorite beans,” he said with a grin as he shook the bag. It was so genuinely precious you couldn’t help but give him a small smile back.
“A smile!” he cheered. “There’s my girl.”
“Stop,” you whined, still smiling in spite of yourself. He returned with a glass of water that he also set down in front of you before sitting back down.
“Thought you might need this,” he said. You set the mug down, suddenly aware of how incredibly thirsty you were as the glass glistened in front of you. You chugged half of the glass down in a matter of seconds before setting it back down and wrapping your hands around the warm mug to warm yourself back up.
“So cold,” you whispered.
“Remember how cold it was at night in purgatory?” Dean asked. You shivered at the memory. There were nights it was so cold you were sure you would die if it weren’t for the fact that you were basically already dead there.
“Don’t think I’ve ever felt that cold since. People always say you can feel the cold down to your bones… there it was… it was like it was in my soul, eating me alive. Which I guess was the whole point, really.” You were so cold when Dean had found you. Your teeth chattered and your whole body was shivering. He had pulled you tight against him and opened his jacket to wrap it around you. You buried your cold nose to his chest like a kitten tucking it’s nose beneath its tail. It wasn’t warm like you needed but it was as close as you could get there.
Dean reached over and placed his hand over your wrist and gave it a soft squeeze. “I told you kid, you’re gonna be okay… one way or another. I pulled your ass out of purgatory, remember? I’m not losing you over this.”
Summary: After you get severely injured in a fight, you worry about what lengths Sam Winchester will go to to keep you safe. What would you do to make sure he felt like he didn't need to?
A/N: Heeeeey... Not sure if anyone is still out there after all these years. My job and my mental health took away a lot of my time and mental capacity for writing but I’ve kinda gotten back on the horse. This is an older story where I was never quite happy with the ending and I didn’t want to start posting it until I had an ending I was happy with. So... I never posted it. Thanks ADHD brain. In any case, I hope whoever is still out there, whoever finds this, enjoys this story. As always, link to A03 here if you prefer.
It had all happened so fast. You were just about to get the jump on a demon you'd been fighting with. He was big and burly and was really giving you a run for your money. He stumbled and you were about to jump around his neck and slice it open when you stumbled on the jump and he once again had the upper hand. He threw his arm out and with an unseen force, shot you back, your body slamming hard against a wall. You crumpled to the ground, every nerve in your body was screaming. It took a moment to remember that you were in the middle of a fight. Slowly, you forced your eyes open. They were swimming but you could see the demon making his way toward you. You tried to force yourself to your feet but your brain seemed to have forgotten how to communicate with your legs.
“Exorcizamus te, omn-” you began but the demon lifted his arm mid-stride and you felt your words being choked off.
The knife you'd been wielding had fallen to the floor when you were sent flying across the room but you still had an angel blade hidden away in your inside jacket pocket. It took every ounce of strength you had to move your arm, slip it from the pocket and hold it behind your arm, hidden away from the demon's eyes. The nerves in your arm were screaming with every move you made.
You wondered for a moment why Sam hadn't immediately rushed to your side but then you heard him attempting to exorcise the other demon that he'd been up against when you fell. Every syllable he managed out earned him a fist to his cheek. He plunged his knife deep into her stomach but of course it did next to nothing to slow her down. Dean had taken Ruby's knife.
The burly guy leaned over you. You gripped tight to the handle of your blade but kept it hidden beside your leg. He grinned at you in a way that made your stomach spin even more than it already was from being throttled against the wall. He pulled his knife lightly across your cheek as you stared daggers at him. The sting of it's blade was nothing compared to the rest of the pain you were in. You didn't even flinch.
“GET AWAY FROM HER YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Sam bellowed as his leg flew through the air, slamming hard against the other demon’s face. He couldn't come to you, not without shaking her first. If he turned his back on her, she'd kill him and then you'd really be screwed.
If this bastard would just step a little closer, you could plunge your knife into him, but he was keeping a careful distance, just close enough to taunt you.
“Your boyfriend's gonna miss you after I kill you,” the demon sneered. “It'll break him. He'll blame himself. I'll be there to watch and relish every second of his pain.” Your heart sank. You hadn't been with Sam long but you'd gotten pretty intense pretty fast. And Dean... If this demon had his way, you might not ever get to see him again. Dean and Cas had gone on a mission to free an angel being held by Crowley. The brothers had been tense at best since Dean learned Sam had shrugged off his responsibilities for the last year. Then Sam found out his brother was friends with a vampire and any progress they’d made seemed to have been lost. So you'd agreed it might be best to split up for a few days.
You choked down a sob at the thought of what Dean's face might look like if Sam had to call him to tell him the worst. You'd climbed out of Purgatory with Dean at your side. You'd gotten each other through that snake pit. Dean was your best friend, your brother in all but blood and name. At this point it would hurt Sam to lose you but it might very well ruin Dean. You couldn't... you wouldn't, allow either to happen.
The demon moved in closer to you. You could feel his useless breath against your face. He grinned even wider when he saw the pain his words had caused you.
You angled the knife toward his stomach. Now you only had to hope your arm would have the strength to drive it deep enough.
He trailed a finger across your shoulder and down your arm, he seemed almost transfixed by the body before him and the many different ways he could hurt you.
“I'm gonna enjoy th-”
You shoved the angel blade deep into his stomach, as deep as it would go. The demon inside the meat suit sparked and fizzled. It was like glimpsing the fires of hell. You gave the hilt an extra shove, just to be sure. The body slumped forward over you, a shocked expression clinging to the dead face. You pulled the blade out and wiped it clean on the dead man's shirt before tucking it back into your jacket. You grimaced as you stared into the lifeless eyes and pushed with everything you had left, shoving the body away. It was sent tumbling a few feet away.
You could see Sam now and watched as he kicked the demon powerfully in her stomach. He seemed done now, at his wits end. He needed the fight to be over. His last kick sent her straight into a wall. He pressed his forearm against her throat, cutting off her windpipe, before splashing a bottle of holy water on her face. She sneered and laughed through the obvious pain as Sam began invoking an exorcism.
“Exorcizamus te, Omnis Immundus Spiritus! Omnis Satanica Potestas! Omnis Incursio Infernalis Adversarii! Omnis Congregatio et Secta Diabolica! Ergo Draco Maledicte! Ut Ecclesiam Tuam Secura, Tibi Facias Libertate Servire, Te Rogamus, Audi Nos!” he shouted as he rushed quickly through the words but was still careful to enunciate.
She screamed in pain as the black smoke shot out of her mouth and billowed into a long cloud before bolting through the ground and disappearing.
The life left her eyes and Sam pulled his arm away from her throat. Her body crumpled to the floor, the human vessel long dead. He immediately turned and sprinted to your side.
“See... I’m telling you, we need to make a voice memo of the exorcism. That seriously would have come in handy just now,” you said with a smirk as he knelt beside you and tucked his knife away. His body heaved as he took deep, rapid breaths, trying to catch up with what the fight had taken out of him. You noted the swelling in his cheeks and blood streaming from various small cuts across his face. He was completely oblivious to it, though. His wide and horrified eyes surveyed you as he brushed his fingertips gingerly over your body. Blood dripped from the cut on your cheek. There was a sizable laceration just under the corner of your mouth and there was a decent sized gash on your forehead that was dripping into your left eyebrow, but other than that and your notable lack of movement, you appeared fine.
“Y/n... I'm so sorry. Oh God, I'm so sorry... Where does it hurt?” he said
“Kind of... everywhere,” you said with a light chuckle. Sam narrowed his eyes at you. He seemed seconds from rolling them and pursing his lips.
“This isn't the moment for your sarcasm,” he huffed.
“Mostly my lower back,” you said, lifting your hand to brush the side of his face. You couldn't argue with him now, not when he looked so sad.
“We need to get out of here. I don't know how many more demons are crawling in this place. Can you stand?”
You tried to move your legs but the nerves in your lower back sent a shock of white hot pain through your spine. You cringed as a whimper escaped your lips. Several tears spilled down your cheeks.
“Okay... Okay, that's fine,” Sam said. You could see his mind was reeling as he tried to come up with a game plan to fix this. “Um, can you feel your legs?” he asked, seeming to dread the answer.
“Yeah,” you murmured, eyes still shut tight as the pain slowly subsided. Sam had his palm pressed to the ground and you held your hand gently over it. He turned his hand over and grasped yours in his. It was nice and cool from the concrete but it quickly warmed against you.
“Can you wiggle your toes?” he asked. You tried and slowly the muscles of your toes contracted as they pulled toward your foot, hidden away inside your boots. You nodded at Sam.
“Okay, I'm gonna have to carry you,” he said as he pushed one arm between your lower back and the wall and the other beneath your thighs.
“This will probably hurt. Ready?”
“No, I'd like you to recite some Eliot to me first,” you said with a grin. Sam sighed and gently rolled his eyes at you. “Kiss me,” you said, half out of breath.
“I should've checked you for a head injury,” he said with a tone of mild annoyance. His lips pursed in a sarcastic way that made his cheeks dimple. You imagined that if you were well, you would have pressed a kiss to each dimple, softening his expression. You hated to see anything but a smile on his face.
“It might help me forget the pain,” you explained, once again caressing his face.
Without hesitation he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to yours, kissing you hungrily as he stood and lifted you into the air. There was a dull pain that came from the cut near your lip as he kissed you but that was forgettable compared to the shriek of pain in your lower back that howled despite your best attempts to focus on the way his lips moved against yours. It was still not quite as bad, though, as when you'd tried to move your legs yourself. Possibly because Sam had done a good job keeping them steady. He pressed one last kiss to your lips before pressing one to your forehead, careful to miss the gash there.
“And indeed there will be time to wonder, ‘Do I dare?’ and, ‘Do I dare?’ Time to turn back and descend the stair,” he said with a grin that you almost believed. It sparked something in you.
“We better call Dean. Can you reach my phone? It's in my chest pocket,” he said as he carried you out of the room. You'd heard Sam but you weren't listening. Your mind was suddenly whirling as you thought about the concern that hid behind his eyes and the horrified expression when he'd first knelt by your side.
What if he thought you'd screwed up and they couldn't trust you on hunts? This was too soon in your relationship. You hadn't been able to prove your capabilities yet and now maybe you never would...
A million scenarios played in your mind. You imagined him sitting you down and telling you that he loved you too much to let you hunt, that it wasn't worth the risk to your safety. You imagined he'd be able to get Dean on his side and then what could you do to argue? They'd overrule you. But eventually that wouldn't be enough for him. One day he might begin to think that he was the unsafe factor in your life and try to push you out, try to make you settle down somewhere without him and Dean. They were all you had now. That was not an option.
And you were a good hunter. You'd survived for months in Purgatory before meeting Dean. You were just as capable as they were. Okay, sure, they had decades of experience over you, so maybe not just as... but still, you could more than hold your own. Sam didn't really seem like the kind of guy that would be insanely, misogynistically protective. This was Sam Winchester, not Edward Cullen, after all. Still... could you take the chance? A plan started to hatch in your mind... you knew you shouldn’t but you had to ensure that the nearly perfect little life you'd found wouldn't crumble before your eyes.
You realized then, that Sam was calling your name, and had been for several moments as he made his way down the maze of halls, past bodies you'd felled on your way in.
“Castiel,” you whispered.
“Yes... Cas... I'm sorry, I should have thought of him sooner,” he said, half-panicked. There it was as always, Sam apologizing for something that was only human.. If he kept putting that kind of blame on himself, he would eventually crack under the pressure. Yes, this was the only way. It was better for both of you.
Sam was shouting Cas's name now as he made his way down the stairs of the foyer, out the front door and into the dark night. He jogged steadily to the car you'd jacked a few towns back. It was a black, early 2000's model Chevy Impala. You'd spotted it in a strip mall parking lot and couldn't resist how much it would annoy Dean. You'd made Sam take a picture of you leaning nonchalantly against the side of the car just so you could text it to him. He replied immediately to say that you were spitting on Baby's good name and he'd never forgive you. Which had left you rolling in a fit of laughter.
Sam was carefully stooping down, still cradling you, to pull open the back door of the car when Cas finally appeared.
“This better be imp-” he began and then Sam turned around and Cas's eyes fell on you, pale and bloodied, cradled in Sam's arms.
“What happened?” he asked sternly, but you caught the hint of alarm in his voice.
“Fix her,” Sam pleaded quietly, his voice breaking. He'd seemed so strong about this whole situation. You realized now it had just been for your sake.
“Demons?” Cas asked as he took several long strides toward you and turned to survey the building you'd just exited.
“Cas!” Sam shouted. Cas set his eyes on Sam for a moment, not appreciating being yelled at, before he reached out and touched the back of your hand for less than a second.
“Would you calm down? She's not on the verge of death.”
“She's not?” Sam sighed with relief. He looked down at you and his lips twitched up at the corners. It was almost a smile.
“No, she's got at least five hours to live in her current state,” Cas said nonchalantly. “Pelvic fracture. Lot's of internal bleeding.” He looked down at you. “Did you kill the one that did this?”
You cocked your head slightly and smirked at him. “Of course I did,” you said with a light chuckle. Cas grinned and nodded knowingly at you.
“Good. Give me a second, I'll be right back.”
“Castiel!” Sam barked in a low, ragged voice, so broken that it pierced your heart. It was too late. Cas was gone. Sam was left holding you gingerly in his arms by the wide-open back door of the car. The overhead interior lamp spilled light onto the grass around you and faintly across the frozen fields around you. It was the only light for miles other than the stars and sliver of moon. The cold was starting to settle on you and you noted how desolate and quiet it was. Any sound that might exist was easily muffled by the snow and ice.
“Do you want me to lay you on the back seat?” Sam asked. You wrinkled your nose as you thought about the pain from the last two times you were moved. Sam nodded in understanding.
“Unless I'm-,” you worried.
“No, no! Please, I could do this for at least another eight hours if I had too,” he said coolly. You chuckled quietly at him but noted that his time extended well past the time left that Cas gave you, as if he was willing you more.
