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cwΒ : gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, features dean x reader (platonic), near death experience, suffocation, other canon violence and death, injuries, blood mention, swearing, so much pining, case fic, stereotypical witch, (not) unrequited love, petty arguments, petty sam, kissing, crying, guilt, reader vaguely implied to be shorter than sam, pet names, food mentions, (baby, honey - from sam, darlinβ/kiddo from dean), no use of y/n, mentions ofΒ end of season 2-4 spoilers, poorly edited, 13.7K words. requested !
summary :Β because of an unexpected witchβs curse, itβs almost too late for you and sam to confess your feelings to each other.
you see sam when it rains. even if heβs sitting right in front of you, youβll look out the car window and at the rivulets of water rushing down the glass, distorting the image of an empty highway and summer-time trees at dusk, and youβll see him at seventeen with rain in his hair and running down his cheeks. youβll think of that smile he gave you as he took your hand and how that look he had in his eyes haunts you worse than any ghost youβve seen, because you think it couldβve been love. sometimes, youβll still see glimpses of that sam, but he can be rare. so, you go as far to wonder if maybe he still looks at you like that when your gaze is turned away.Β
once, when the windows were down and he was sitting in the back with you for a change, the spring air was nice and clean as it filtered into the sometimes stuffy car, and you felt his multicolor gaze watching you. the look on his face changed when you locked eyes, but for an imagined moment, it seemed that youβyour eyes closed against the wind and a light smile on your face that, for once, wasnβt grimβwere his everything.
you press your temple to the cold glass of the window, hoping itβll sober you up a little from your love-drunk state. itβs so goddamn stupid that youβre even thinking about him like this right now, because heβs still sort of mad at you for something rash you did during your last hunt. only you donβt think it was stupid, so youβre half pissed that he wonβt let it go. staring at the back of his head and the pretty curled ends of his hair, you sigh quietly. even his shoulders rising up past the seat are handsome. you miss him, and heβs close enough to reach out and touch.
deanβs voice breaks your reverie, and you have to draw in a deep breath. without you even noticing, thinking about sam so hard makes you breathless, almost every time.
βso, why donβt you give us the full rundown, sammy? βfore either of you decide to conk out on me,β dean suggests. that means heβs bored, because neither of you will fall asleep for at least another hour or two, and youβll probably take your turn driving for a few soon.
βsure,β sam agrees, and you hear the shuffle of papers as he digs out a newspaper article and some notes. βthree people in the last three weeks all died from suffocation, but with no apparent cause. they just,β samβs shoulders move a little as he motions vaguely with his hands, βstopped breathing.β
βsounds witchy to me,β dean says, very predictably. you think you couldβve said those exact words at the exact same time if you wanted to tease him about it.
βyeah. whatβs weird is that the vics were reported feeling out of breath up to 16 hours before they actually died. says it looks like they slowly died from oxygen deprivation,β sam adds.
βhuh. so not hex bags, but another sort of spell?β you wonder aloud, easily talking about the case despite the remainders of tension between you and sam. thatβs just how it is, with all of you. even when youβre mad, you still work the case.
βmost likely,β sam agrees, βthe vics went about their days pretty much normally until they died, so they were in different places as they were dying. seems like a hex bag wouldnβt work unless it was on them the whole time.β you nod, and though heβs not turned around to look at you, youβre sure he knows anyway.
βalright, well. looks like weβve got our work cut out for us,β dean states, βweβll be in town in the morning, so weβll rest up real quick then head to the police station. you two can do your interviewing magic with the vicβs families and hopefully weβll know more by then.β
this was easily predicted as well. for as long as youβve been able to pass as an fbi agent, heβs mostly left interviewing the families to you and sam since the two of you tend to be more socially appropriate, and thus, more able to get information without raising alarms. though, the questions you ask never cease to be weird and confusing to the worldβs oblivious civilians. of course, dean makes exceptions for pretty girls who he can flirt his way into telling him just about anything. this time, you wish dean would make an exception because it kills you that you and sam arenβt getting along perfectly right now. you know that youβll work it out soon, probably within the week, but you still hate it.
through the impalaβs windows, you watch the sky turn dark and the moon come out. you drive, then fall asleep to the rumble of the engine for a few hours, and wake to see the sky turn light again. keeping it all to yourself, you revel in the sunrise and the way it turns the sky bright and the clouds cotton candy pink around the edges.Β
you sink into the sight of sam sleeping in front of you, the early morning light kissing his features and shining through his mousy brown hair. if you lean a little to the left, you can soak up the image of his softly closed eyes, the mole by his nose, and the relaxed curve of his lips. you smile to yourself at the way his hair is all messed up on the side of his head thatβs resting against the window until you catch deanβs gaze on you through the rearview mirror. you tear your gaze from both brothers and latch it to the moving countryside out the window. for a while now, youβve figured thereβs no way dean doesnβt see that youβre in love with his brother, but despite such, he doesnβt say much outside of lightheartedly teasing for the both of you. heβs the only one who knows that sam looks at you just like that when youβre the one whoβs asleep. heβs the one who sees sam turn, trying to be subtle, just to look at the way the moonlight kisses your lips, wishing it was him.
itβs eight in the morning when you pull up to the first motel you see. you wished sam hadnβt woken up on his own half an hour ago. that way, you couldβve put your hand on his shoulder, shaken him all soft and gentle like you do just for him, and mumbled, βwake up, sammy. weβre here.β then heβd stir, still sweet-looking from sleep and give you a little smile if heβd managed to dream without nightmares before remembering heβs supposed to still be upset with you.
instead, heβs fully awake when he climbs out of the car and pops your door open like he does every time you canβt beat him to it. he doesnβt talk about that habit, because he knows you can take care of it yourself. but if itβs so easy for him to do it as you grab your bag, then he thinks thereβs no harm. besides, youβve never told him off for it, so he does that and just about any other little thing he can get away with for you. and much to your chagrin, he still does it all when heβs pissed at you. heβs too good like that, even if you think he should just get over what happened a few days ago.
the three of you are just about wordless as you check in and pile into the room, all tired and without anything of importance to say. when you catch sight of the couch in the room, you sigh in relief. it wouldβve been samβs turn to share the bed, and youβre not sure you could do that this time around. sometimes itβs hard to breathe when heβs right there, so close after youβve spent literal hours in the car just plain oldΒ piningΒ over him. so, you find an extra sheet in the closet and steal a pillow from deanβs bed, all but collapsing onto the couch with a morning-time βgoodnight.β
you donβt care that your feet hang over the edge unless you curl up or mind the way the springs dig into the flesh of your side, all you want is to welcome quick sleep. youβre lucky, and drift off moments later. you barely have time to think about how glad you are that you wonβt have one of your nights where you lay awake, staring at the ceiling as you wonder why you would fall in love with someone you canβt have. him and dean are all you have, and no matter how your heart aches to pull sam close, youβd never do anything to jeopordize what you have, here and now. heβs your best friend, thatβs all you can ask for in this life, maybe even more than you should.
waking as you normally do to the sounds of sam and dean moving about the motel room, you sit up, a little groggy. you glance at the clock, and youβve slept for about four hours, just as predicted.
βup βn at βem,β dean says as he walks past you, giving you a playful clap on the back.
βmhmm,β is all you respond with, swinging your legs off the couch and digging through your bag for your pant suit and toothbrush. deanβs already in his, and samβs brushing his teeth in the bathroom, still in his tshirt and jeans from yesterday. you donβt even have to say a word for sam to move out of the bathroom as you approach. so he wonβt have to wait with a mouth full of tooth-paste and spit for you too long, you change quickly, leaving your clothes on the bathroom floor and opening the door for sam as you begin to brush your own teeth. the two of you maneuver around the cramped space with practiced ease, and when heβs done, he disappears back into the bedroom space without a word. when heβs petty to other people, you think itβs kind of hot. but when he does it to you, it makes you want to ring his neck.Β
βasshole,β you mumble to yourself. itβs a classic tango between the two of you; you want him to just get over it, and he wants you to admit that heβs right, or the other way around. and both of you are far too stubborn to be the one to relent first, so youβll be pissy at each other for a few days until you get bored of it or dean gets too annoyed. all it takes to get past it is you putting your head in his lap after a long day, maybe him resting his head on your shoulder, or the two of you laughing too hard over something together to keep being mad, and maybe just a few mumbled apologies from the both of you. if itβs really big enough for none of those things to work, then you talk about it until things are okay again.
dean drops you off at the first victimβs house, with the promise that the second is close enough to walk to, and the third heβll join you for once heβs done at the coronerβs office.
sam still wonβt talk to you as you wait on the front porch of the house after ringing the doorbell. a young woman opens the door, probably around your own age, and you smile at her before flashing your badge.
βhi. iβm agent green. this is my partner, agent smith. weβre looking for natalie goh?β you greet, comfortable and at ease in your ruse.
βthatβs me,β she confirms for you, sounding nice enough. βhow can i help you, agents?β
βwe would just like to ask a few questions about your late boyfriend, henry,β sam explains, βmay we come inside?β
her face falls when he mentions her boyfriend, but she nods her head. βof course, come in.β you follow her to the living room where she motions for you to sit. βlet me grab you something to drink,β she offers, disappearing into the next room before you can refuse. βis lemonade okay? my next door neighbor brought me so much when she heard about henryβ¦ you know. i canβt possibly drink it all.β
you want to say no, not wanting to make her go through the extra effort, but you accept for both you and sam out of sympathy. she sounds like she needs to keep her hands busy to distract herself.Β
she sets the drinks down in front of you, asking as she sits, βwhat, uhm, what is the fbiβs interest in β¦ in henry?β
βweβre investigating a few odd deaths, like your boyfriendβs, in the area,β sam explains, βnow, was there anything unusual the day of or the days leading up to his death?β
βi, um, i donβtβ i donβt think so, like what? and, iβm sorry, the police told me he most likely choked on something, how is that strange?β natalie frets. you glance at sam and catch him readjusting his features as a brief look of surprise crosses over his face. it makes sense that thatβs what the police told her, but you hadnβt known theyβd said so.
βwell, natalie, the cause of his death wasnβt entirely clear, and because a few more people have died similarly since, weβre just being extra thorough,β you do your best to placate her before she starts getting too wary of you and sam. βit really could mean nothing, but itβs important for us to cover all of our bases. so, can you tell us if there was anything out of the ordinary? was he acting strange, or did you notice anything unusual around the house, like maybe cold spots or flickering lights?β
she furrows her eyebrows in confusion, βum, no. no, nothing like that. he was just being him, you know, he was such an amazing boyfriend, he made me breakfast that morning even though he said he was tired. i already told this to the police, but he sounded kind of out of breath when we called. that was the last time i talked to him,β her voice begins to tremble, so you reach out a comforting hand and place it atop hers from across the table. βi had to stay late at work, and when i got home, he was β¦ he was gone. i found him in the kitchen.β a tear slips down her cheek, and she moves her hand away from yours to wipe it off. you shift back in your seat and glance at sam, trying to give him the hint to get moving. but, he keeps his gaze trained elsewhere.
you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him, almost ready to pull the βmay i use your bathroomβ ruse first. itβs almost always sam who does it, and sure enough, he clears his throat to ask.
βwould you mind if i used your restroom?β
βoh, sure,β she says, βthereβs one by the pantry, through the kitchen and to the left.β
he stands, thanking her a bit awkwardly before disappearing through the doorway to the kitchen.
once heβs gone, you turn your attention back to natalie. βi know that this can be a difficult question, but is there anyone that comes to mind who might want to hurt henry?β absentmindedly, you take a sip of the lemonade after speaking. itβs sweet, but notΒ tooΒ sugary. you discover that itβs just about perfect, and you canβt hold back from continually taking a few sips here and there to fight back the heat of the afternoon.
βoh, goodness, no,β she sounds horrified by that prospect, βhenry was just the kindest. the best boyfriend i could ask for,β she reiterates. βyou think that someoneβ that someoneβ¦?β
βno, no,β you lie, βthere would be signs if someone else hurt him, but like i said, we just need to be completely thorough. iβm sorry to even have to ask. now, if youβre okay with it, could you tell me more about henry?β
βyes, yeah, i can do that,β she sighs in relief. itβs clear she wants to talk about him, and probably how much she misses him. you do your best to pay close attention and keep her focused on you and your questions as sam takes forever βin the bathroom.β nothing she says is very useful, itβs all about how loving and kind and just aboutΒ perfectΒ he was to her. at first, youβre able to listen without a qualm, but the more she rambles about how much she loved him, and maybe even more so how much he loved her, your mind inevitably wanders to sam. sam and your bothersome, bottomless pit of unrequited love.
you kindly cut natalie off and stand when you hear samβs footsteps approach. βit sounds like henry was a wonderful person. iβm so sorry for your loss.β despite knowing those words donβt mean or do much, you still fill them with as much sincerity as you can. sam is at your side again. βwe really appreciate you taking the time to talk to us. weβll get out of your hair now.β
she shows you to the front door out of courtesy, and you give her one last thank you and kind smile before turning your back and heading to the sidewalk, sam just ahead of you. pushing off the ground a little harder for a few steps, you catch up to him and his long strides, unable to resist the urge to let your gaze wander to his face.
βanything?β you ask, hoping heβll look at you too.
βnope,β he shakes his head, βno emf, no hexbags, nothing out of the ordinary.β pursing your lips, you let your gaze fall to the sidewalk ahead of you when he doesnβt make eye-contact. βanything on your end?β
βnot really. she just rambled about how in love they were. said there was nothing strange about the day, or him, and that he had no enemies. she made him sound like a complete angel.β without you realizing, your lip curls a little in jealousy.
sam just huffs in response, likely bothered by the lack of information. βletβs hope we can find something about the other two.β
you repeat the ruse at the next two homes, and samβs hopes are dashed, because by the time you, sam, and dean are back at the motel room, just about the only thing of value you bring back is a paper bag of takeout.
spread out in the room, with your respective assortments of food, notes, and computers, you share all the details you can think of to hopefully find a pattern. deanβs on his bed, sam on the couch, and you at the dingy table. the biggest discovery is on deanβs part. according to the coroner, each of the victimβs hearts had inexplicably shrunken and shriveled up. this detail was kept out of the public eye because of how strange it was; it happened after each victim died, as it very clearly did not contribute to the cause of death. that, and the coroner is absolutely stumped by how such a thing could possibly happen.
dean asks if the first two interviews were as fruitless as the last, and you sigh as you explain just how unhelpful theyβd been.
βthe only common threads are that they were young adults, all in a relationship, and all sounded to be just about the perfect partner,β you report. βi mean, maybe the witch is targeting people in loving relationships? jealousy? or maybe they have some sort of secret we couldnβt dig up just by interviewing. the people we talked to were obviously biased. the first victimβs girlfriend wouldnβt stop talking about how amazing he was, the secondβs sister told us she was the sweetest girlfriend out there, and you heard how the thirdβs husband described them.β
βreally?β dean asks. βi mean, yeah, i heard the last guy, but i ran into the first vicβs girlfriendβs sister at the station. she was doing something for her sister there, and she did not seem too impressed with the guy when i asked about him.β
you raise your eyebrows, about to speak again when sam beats you to it.
βso maybe we are looking for secrets. did she say what she wasnβt impressed with?β sam says just about the exact thing you were about to.
dean shrugs. βjusβ said he was sort of a lazy boyfriend. didnβt take good enough care of her or show his love all that much.β
βmaybe he was cheating?β you suggest.
βmaybe,β dean repeats. βhowβs this? you can dig into records and see if you can find any dirt on the vics. sam, you can look for a spell that mightβve caused this, and iβll scout out a few local places. the officer i was talking to gave me a few places the vics probably spent time at.β
βsure,β you agree, a teasing edge to your voice, βjust donβt get too distracted. we all know by βlocal placesβ you mean bars. no sex unless you solve the case, and if you solve the case, no sex because you have to report back to us.β
βso no sex?β he plays along, acting all offended.
βnope!β you confirm, giving a firm shake of your head.Β
deanβs already on his way out the door as he chimes, βno promises!β
βseriously!β sam calls after him, βwe need info!β he groans and shakes his head when the only response he gets is the shutting of the door. when he doesnβt make a snarky comment about dean to you, you clench your jaw.
βsam.β it takes a lot of willpower to sound bothered by him, rather than say his name all sweet.
βmhmm?β heβs purposely keeping his gaze on his computer and his response short.
you roll your eyes, βcβmon, canβt you just get over it? itβs not like you havenβt done stupider things to get a case done.β
since you insist on arguing about it, he lifts his gaze, looking unimpressed. βdoesnβt mean you shouldnβt have done it. you almost got dean hurt.β
βand i already apologized for that!β you say indignantly, annoyed that thatβs his argument. he knows full well, better than anyone, that dean can deal with a measly vamp, even if he wasnβt expecting it. βitβs not like dean canβt handle himself!β
βyou should have at least run the plan by us,β he says. you roll your eyes again.
βit was a spur of the moment decision. unless you wanted me to shout it out, compromise my position, and let every single vamp in that nest know exactly what i was gonna do?β you retort. sam sighs, in the way that you can tell he knows your argument is better than his. so, you still canβt figure out why heβs still upset about it, outside of his usual stubbornness.
βit couldβve gone so wrong,β is all he can come up with, βand you know that. it was stupid, and you couldβve gotten hurt. or worse.β there it is. his voice changed when he said you couldβve gotten hurt.
itβs your turn to sigh, this time because you finally understand. it makes your heart flutter a little, and it makes you even more annoyed. βsam, i can handle myself. you know that. sure, it was kind of stupid, and not a fully thought out plan, but i had to figure out a way to get us out of there! four vamps were about to find you, so i had to distract them. easiest way was with my blood. one vamp found dean, but he handled that just as easy as he always does. i knew youβd have my back, so i let the other three come after me. and look! weβre all here, alive and kicking! this is such a stupid thing for you to get mad over.β
βitβs stupid for me to want you to be more careful?β he counters.
βsam, we have to take risks in this job, we do it all the time. thatβs just how this works, whatβs different about this time?β you question.
βjustββ he presses his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose as he tries to come up with a reason thatβs good enough. a reason thatβs not βi worry about you,β because thatβll make you even more angry, make it sounds like he doesnβt think youβre a good enough hunter. and he certainly canβt explain that thatβs not it, he worries because the worst possible thing to him is you getting hurt. because then youβd ask why and he wouldnβt be able to tell you the truth.
βcanβt we just be done with this?β you ask, and the tone of your voice is one he canβt deny. youβre upset, bothered, and tired of his pettiness. more so, youβre just plain old tired. it takes too much effort to stay upset with one another. he lets your question sit in the air for a moment longer.
βyeah,β he relents, voice quiet now. heβs holding back words, touches, feelings. he wants to tell you, βjust please donβt put yourself in danger, it scares me. i get so worried. it makes me want to pull you close and protect you even though i know you donβt need it. thatβs why iβm upset.β he wants to get up from the couch and set his computer across from yours, sit across from you, just so youβre a little bit closer. he wants to touch you so bad that it sort of hurts.
instead, he has to live for the relieved breath that huffs out through your nose, so quiet it couldnβt quite be counted as a sigh.
βgood,β you say, voice matching his own quietness. thereβs still tension hanging between you, but soon enough, itβll dissipate altogether, and tomorrow, youβll be back to joking with one another, brushing shoulders, and hiding how in love with each other you are. maybe he can even convince you to share his bed tonight. the couch is horridly uncomfortable.
only after youβre convinced that sam wonβt be all pissy to you until the next time you find something silly to be angry about do you begin on your research. itβs just as fruitless as everything else today, and after hours searching and drawing banks, you go back to the interviews, jotting down all the details you can remember in case seeing it on paper helps something new and useful jump out at you.
all you get is a dull ringing in your ear, probably courtesy of some old motel appliance. but the ringing grows louder, and in your tired state, it becomes completely bothersome. you press your hand against your left earβitβs loudest thereβand shut your eyes. itβs been an hour or two since sam has shifted to sit across from you to escape the digging springs of the couch, so the movement catches his attention quickly.
βyou alright?β he asks, already with a little pinch of his eyebrows in worry.
βyeah, βm fine,β you say, realizing the ringing must be the beginning of a headache, since sam canβt seem to hear it. βjust a headache,β you explain.
βwant me to get you some advil?β he offers.
βno, no thatβs alright, iβve got it,β you deny, but you donβt get up. your head doesnβt really hurt, and the ringing fades as fast as it appeared. youβre about to sigh in relief, when suddenly, youβre sort of breathless, and you gasp to take in air. the moment passes, and you shake your head to yourself a little. itβs weird until you remember that samβs looking at you with that little furrow to his brow, sweet and concerned, like the last thing he wants is for you to be in pain, even if itβs just a measly headache. that look in his eyes as his gaze focuses on you and only you is certainly enough to take your breath away. it just took you by surprise this time.
βyou sure youβre okay?β he asks again, worried by your gasp.
βmhmm,β you hum, trying to keep your tone light and trying not to look too hard into his pretty hazel eyes. βjusβ hurt for a second, but i think the headacheβs gone away.β
βokay,β he relents, not fully convinced, but willing to take your word for it and refocus on his computer screen. you turn your own attention back to the papers in front of you, away from his face, so close that it sends your heart into wild palpitations every time your mind wanders from the case and to his presence. in other words, it happens often.
youβre determined to find something, some detail that clicks and leads you to anything important. but after another unfocused hour, your eyelids are heavy, almost as much as your head as you wish to just sink down and fall asleep right there on that little table.
βyou should get some sleep,β sam says, no stranger to the way you look when you should quit being stubborn and just go to bed. and normally, youβd resist, but the idea of sleep, of closing your eyes and letting your breath even out, slow down, is far too inviting.
so, you relent, and close your laptop. βyeah,β you say as you shuffle the sheets of paper together and set them on a neat pile on top of your computer.
βtake the bed, too,β he insists, βyou look exhausted.β
βmm, glad to hear it,β you joke halfheartedly, βbut, no, sam, that couch is too small for you. itβs small for me, even.β
βand itβs seriously uncomfortable,β he adds.
βso weβll share. iβll leave space for you. you should come to bed soon, too. βs not like we should wait up for dean,β you snicker. sam rolls his eyes, but easily agrees with your conclusion. as you settle into the covers of the motel bed, you consider waiting up for him so you can feel the dip of the bed, then the warmth that radiates off him as he lays beside you. you want to feel the brush of his long arms, the heel of his foot or nudge of his toe, sometimes youβre treated with the broad expanse of his back. but sleep claims you before you can even make the attempt.
samβs big hand on your shoulder brings you back into consciousness, and you breathe in long and hard since it seems like you canβt quite fill your lungs. then your eyes flutter open, and samβs figure is hovering over yours, his hand lingering, then slipping away as he sees you wake. he doesnβt stand fully upright yet, unsure if he should say something or not.
he keeps his voice low, not wanting to alert dean, whoβs changing in the bathroom. βare you feeling fine?β
groggy as you sit up, you peek at the clock. 8:43. you slept through the 8:30 alarm. odd.
βuh, yeah, iβm fine,β you answer, voice gravelly from the morningβs first use, βwhy?β
sam shifts to sit on the bedside opposite you. βnothing justβ¦ i donβt know, you were just breathing really light last night. i could barely even tell youΒ wereΒ breathing at some points and normally you breathe pretty noticeably while you sleep. and, you know, given this case, i just wanted to check.β
sam notices the way you breathe when you sleep. thatβs just about all you can take away from his words. sam pays enough attention to the way you breathe when you sleep to know when your breathing is different. sam thinks about the way that you breathe. maybe thatβd be creepy from anyone else, but you think about the way he breathes too. the way it lulls you to sleep when heβs close, the way it catches when heβs surprised, or the way it changes when heβs about to laugh.
then you remember heβs said something youβre supposed to address. βitβs nothing, sam. i feel totally fine, just tired from working back to back cases, is all.β you say this because youβre sure of it; you do feel just fine. and sam makes you breathless all the time, so thereβs nothing out of the ordinary there.
βare you sure?β he presses, βyou slept straight through the alarm, like a rock.β
βiβm sure,β you say.
βokay,β you can immediately tell that heβs not entirely convinced as he says this, βbut if anything happens or changes or you feel like youβre out of breath, you promise to tell me or dean?β
βof course.β you may not want to be fussed over, but you certainly donβt want to go out in such a stupid, horrible way. βi promise,β you add, just for his sake. deanβs phone starts ringing, and he appears out of the bathroom.
βeither way, letβs get this case done, and quick,β sam insists.
βdonβt have to tell me twice,β you agree, throwing off the covers to get ready for the day.
deanβs voice keeps you from lingering by samβs side. βhey, crazy kids, letβs hurry it up. just got off the phone with the sheriff, there was another death last night.β
βdammit,β you and sam swear in unison.Β
on the way to the scene, dean updates you on his findings from last night. he was just as unsuccessful as you in finding major dirt on any of the victims, though he recieved similar testimonials to the sisterβs about the first, henry. otherwise, he was able to find the witchβs possible hunting ground in a bar where all three victims have been seen with their partners. sam reports that heβs getting close to finding the right spell after discovering a few similar ones.Β
when you reach the victimβs house, sam and dean check in with the police officers, and you immediately head to interview whoever found the victimβs body. heβs obviously distraught, and probably still in shock from losing his boyfriend. you do your best to stay gentle, kind, and understanding as you lead him through the interview, interrupting your questions for the occasional βhe sounds like he was a wonderful partner,β or other such comforting phrase as the man, tyler, rambles about how great he was, how guilty he feels, and just about nothing helpful except for adding another data point to the one pattern you have.
βthank you for your help,β you say, giving him a tight lipped smile before standing and drifting over to sam on instinct as you mull over the information you recieved. heβs poking around in the kitchen, subtly searching for anything abnormal and most likely coming up empty as this house follows the unhelpful trend of the rest.
βanything?β he asks once youβre by his side.
you shake your head, βjust the madly in love bit. everything was pretty much the same as the other vics as well.β sam sighs like he expected that answer.
βi think we should look more into the first victim,β he suggests, echoing the same thought that you had. βmaybe interview natalie again, see if she admits something different about henry if we push it a little.β
βi agree, though iβd say letβs hold off on interviewing her again unless we canβt find the spell soon. even if she admits that he wasnβt as good to her as she said before, iβm not sure how much good that does in comparison to the spell. if you keep looking into that, iβll check henryβs records more thoroughly. i looked into him less last night since we already had something on him.β you revise the plan a bit, and sam nods in agreement, making that sort of awkward face with his lips pursed and eyebrows raised that he does when someone without the knowledge you have comes in hearing range. you glance behind you to see the figure of a police officer through the kitchen doorway and are fast to quit all talk of spells and witches to avoid sounding insane.
βdean can scout out the bar again to see if this most recent couple frequented there as well,β sam puts the last piece in place for your plan, just as you imagined it. once it seems like thereβs nothing left to glean from the house, you grab dean and head out back to the car. the brothers walk a bit ahead of you as sam fills dean in on the plan.
βexcuse me! agent,β a voice calls from behind you. the three of you turn, and you wave the two of them away to indicate that youβll deal with it.
βyes?β you respond as an officer approaches.
βyour partner asked for the full coronerβs reports on paper from the first three victims,β she says, holding out a file as she reaches you.
βah! right. thank you, officer.β you give her a polite smile and take the papers before turning away. sam and dean have made it to the impala, parked a bit away due to the police cars surrounding the house. you jog at a casual pace to catch up, but falter about halfway there as your breaths turn all shuddery and quick. you stop, trying to right yourself and desperate to brush this off, but you just keep gulping in breaths, feeling like youβve run a mile at top speed without warming up.Β
shit. shit, shit, shit, is all you can think.Β fuck.
as you stare at the car, deanβs already in the front seat and sam is pulling the passengerβs door open, and you will with all your might that neither of them will turn to look for you. you donβt want them to catch you like this. instead, you want to explain it to them, calm and collected and full of breath because your bodyβs beginning to readjust and you should be fine to walk over in moments andΒ dammitβ samβs twisted around to find you, his hands resting on the top of the car and the door. the second he catches sight of you, just standing there with your chest heaving up and down, heβs launched himself away from the car and towards you. he calls your name, worry flooding his voice. you had tried to recompose yourself the second you saw his head turning, but it was too late, and now heβs jogging your way.
sam is in front of you in moments, his hands on your shoulders and his face fallen in a deep frown.
βyouβre not okay, are you?β
βiβ iβmβ,β you canβt think of what to say, and though your breath is returning to normal, you canβt deny him. βletβs just get in the car. please.βΒ
his jaw clenches and his eyes flick all over you, from the top of your head to the point of your shoes like he always looks at you when he thinks you might be hurt. heβs taking you in, quick and almost panicked so he can fix it right away. he takes a steadying breath because heβs so ovewrought he can barely think. βfine,β he says, voice carefully hushed. if he doesnβt control it, he might start shouting, panicking even. sam canβt bear to leave you untouched now, so he leaves a hand splayed on your shoulder blade as you finish the short walk to the car. he opens the back door and climbs right in, completely foregoing his spot in the passengerβs seat. you realize he wants to sit in the back with you, and it wouldβve been sweet if it wasnβt because youβre probably dying.
jaw clenched, you follow him in, and deanβs already twisted around in his seat, gaze shifting between the two of you to try and read what just happened.
βwhat was that all about?β he questions, eyebrows raised. you put a hand on samβs knee to stop him from telling dean.
βthe witch got me,β you drop the news without much hesitation, more focused on getting your two cents in before either of them start grilling you with questions and making stupid suggestions to try and fix it, βitβs gotta be someone we met or passed by yesterday. one of the people we interviewed or someone from the diner we had lunch at; these types of spells normally require the victimβs dna. and before either of you do anything stupid or crazy, weβre gonna stick with the same plan. dean, you can drop us at the motel so we can find the spell and reversal, and you find out what you can at the bar. got it?β
dean looks at you like youβre crazy, and you ignore samβs gaze altogether.Β
βgot it?β dean repeats back to you, incredulous, βnot so much, kid, iβm gonna need you to explain this to me a little better. what do you mean the witch got you? you mean youβre gonna stop breathing in some odd hours that might not be enough time for us to find and gank this witch?β
βyes, dean, thatβs what i mean. try to keep up,β you turn a little mean as your frustration takes over in order to compensate for your growing fear. βand iβm not going to die, so quit being so pessimistic. weβll find the witch, as long as weΒ stay focused on the plan. unless you have a faster way, which iβd be happy to abide by.β neither have a good enough retort to that, so you continue, βcan we go now? we might not have that much time.β
with much effort, dean turns back in his seat and starts the engine. his voice is low when he asks, βwhat do you mean by that?β
βwell, i donβt know exactly when this whole thing started!β you answer as he pulls into the street, βsam said my breathing wasnβt totally normal last night. if that means anything, well, i went to bed early last night, around eleven. that could mean itβs been at least, i donβt know,β you check the time, βeleven hours. which gives us five, minimum.β you think you can physically feel sam tense up next to you.
βfive hours?β sam repeats, his voice taut, like heβs holding back anger, fear, maybe more. βand were there any times before that you felt out of breath?βΒ
you think back to yesterday.Β sure, every time i looked at you, isnβt quite an answer that you can give. βum, iβm not sure,β you say, sounding more cryptic than casual, as you had meant. you see deanβs eyebrow raise through the rearview mirror.
βyouβre not sure?β dean asks, unbelieving. the two brothers are starting to sound like a broken record as they repeat every other thing you say back to you.
βyeah. nothing comes to mind,β you say, more firmly this time.
sam sighs. βyou canβt seriously think itβs a good idea to hide that sort of thing from us if it happened. this is serious.β
you scoff, βoh, really? i wasnβt aware, itβs not like itβsΒ myΒ life on the line, or anything like that.β
βalright, letβs not get pissy,β dean intervenes.
βpissy?β you scoff again, βright, because this is serious and iβm apparently unaware of that.β
dean says your name, voice a little chiding as he tries to disperse some of the tension thatβs building within the small space of the car. βletβs focus on the case here. sam is right, we need to know everything you do. was there anything else weird you noticed last night?β
βi donβt know!β you exclaim before calming down a bit and taking a deep breath. βi had this ringing in my ears for a minute, around ten. i thought it was a headache. and β¦ i did feel breathless, but just for a second. i thought it was β¦ something else.β
βwhy didnβt you say anything?β sam asks, immediately remembering this. you had pressed your hand to your ear. he believed you when you said it was a headache, but he should have known better. youβre far more likely to rub your temples when you feel a headache coming on.
βi thought it was something else,β you repeat.
βlike what?β he presses.
βlikeββ you hesitate, βlike nothing. just nothing, i donβt know.β
dean interrupts again to get things back on track, βso that could mean four hours, not five.β you see samβs jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye.
βyeah,β you confirm, hoping your voice doesnβt reveal how anxious you really are.
βmy question is why just you?β dean asks. βiβd normally figure itβs because they suspect you to be a hunter, but if they were able to get your dna, they probably had access to ours, too. the witch think youβre madly in love with sammy or somethinβ?β
you fluster at that, mind scrambling,Β why in the goddamn hell would dean say that? does he want me dead faster?Β βuhm, uh,β you laugh a little, completely awkward about it, βwhy would they think that? we were clearly, you know, in a working relationship, not a, hahβ romantic,β you clear your throat, βrelationship. iβm sure itβs just the hunter thing, maybe they couldnβt get your dnaβ¦ or they thought i was more worth killing,β you attempt at a joking insult, but youβre still sort of jerking through your words and reeling from someone sayingΒ βyouβre madly in love with sammyβΒ out loud.
to your left, sam looks almost as flustered as you feel, which brings you an ounce of comfort.
βwhatever you say,β dean shrugs.
when you get back to the hotel, samβs practically running inside to pull out his laptop, and dean speeds away the second the car doors close behind the two of you. both of you are fidgety and antsy as you conduct your research in silence. you think samβs even more nervous than you, with his leg bouncing and teeth chewing away at his lower lip. youβre not sure if you should comfort him, or let him be in favor of getting the research done. it doesnβt take too long for him to find the original spell, and as he tells you about it, some nervousness dissipates when the both of you get back into the groove of a normal hunt, trying to pretend that this time, the consequencesΒ arenβtΒ as personal as they could ever get.
you canβt find any dirt on henry in any records, so you focus on staff from the bar and diner from yesterday to see if thereβs any overlap that could have gotten dna from both you and all the other four victims. something else entirely jumps out at you as you check employment records.
βsam, itβs natalie,β you blurt out into the silence of the room. he raises his eyebrows, and you explain before he can even ask. βshe works at the bar. and i drank some of that lemonade she gave us. she had easy access to everyoneβs dna, and henry was the only deviation from the pattern.β
sam stands as you explain, βokay, letβs go.β
βno, letβs call dean and finish finding the reversal spell. iβd like to have a backup plan, if thatβs alright.β sam purses his lips, looking like he wants to argue. you propose something more rational than his idea, βweβll call dean and let him know. he can go to her house and make sure sheβs the real deal before we go, too.β
βfine,β sam agrees, pulling out his phone, just as it begins to ring. he answers it and puts it on speaker, βdean, itβs natalie.β
βyeah, i know. thatβs what i was about to tell you, the idiots from last night didnβt bother to mention it,β he complains. βiβm headed to her house right now.β to prove it, you hear the car door open and close. βhowβs it going on your end?β
βwe found the spell, weβre looking for the reversal right now,β you answer. βcall us if you need help.β
βmm, you just take care oβ yourself, alright? iβll call you back.β after that, all you get is the hang-up tone.Β
a bit later, your concentration is interrupted by the pinging of samβs phone. you watch him as he checks the messages, then looks up at you with a poorly hidden scowl.
βshe wasnβt at her house,β he explains, βdeanβs headed to her sisterβs to look for her there. but itβs definitely her, he found a secret room full of, yβknow, as heβd say, βwitchy stuff.ββ
you try to hide your disappointment and the uneven rise and fall of your chest. samβs stayed mostly focused on the research, but every now and then, you feel him looking you over, brow furrowed and eyes concerned as he checks for anything abnormal. heβs looking at you like that now.
βdamn,β is all you manage in response while still trying to stay casual about it.
βhow are you feeling?β he asks. you expected the question, but you still donβt want to answer. youβre about to tell him youβre fine, since youβre not really running out of breath yet, until he speaks again before you can, βand donβt say βfine.ββ
βiΒ amΒ fine,β you insist immediately, βjust extra tired from getting a little less oxygen than normal. but nothing crazy. i can still focus on this research and i can still hold a weapon.β you demonstrate by grabbing one of the knives you keep strapped to your thigh and twirling it a little in your hand. samβs face spells out the word βreally?β
βjustβ tell me if it gets worse. please,β heβs just about begging, and with a bit of puppy dog eye action, youβre crumbling.
βokay, sam,β you relent, letting your voice go soft. heβs really scared for you, and it makes you feel just about every little thing. you want to comfort him, reassure that youβll be okay, even when youβre terrified for yourself. you want him to comfortΒ you, for that exact reason, and you want to hold his hand. maybe you can be scared together, a little closer than you are now. you want to kiss him, because what if this is the only chance you get? that thought horrifies you. then you wonder if itβs for the best. maybe you should die as his best friend, because dying as hisΒ anythingΒ is better than scaring him away first. itβs hard to concentrate on the research, but itβs not hard to find the motivation. the hope is to avoid death completely.
finally, you find it.
βi got it, sam!β youβre excited, then a bit breathless after pushing so much air out of your lungs so fast. the breath you take in is sort of shuddering, and it makes sam frown. he doesnβt even try to hide how worried he is. his face is nothing but unadulterated concern and care and β¦ and something else before that expression melts away and heβs focusing on the computer screen that you tilted towards him. the crease between his brows only grows as his eyes flit down the list of ingredients.
βwe donβt have the half of these ingredients,β he worries.
βno,β you admit, βbut thereβs a witch in town whoβs away from home who might.β
to get there, sam doesnβt hesitate to steal a car from the motel parking lot, and this time you canβt even argue given the fact that youβre pretty sure you have less than two hours to live at this point. you promised sam youβd tell him if it got worse, but as it does, you want to say something less and less.
sam picks the lock of the door, entering the house carefully with you right behind. weapons drawn, you walk the route that dean gave you to the hidden room, the door in the wall of the hallway left open for you by dean.
itβs much darker than the rest of the house from the lack of windows and bright lights. this, paired with the eerie assortment of basic herbs to what might be jars of blood, makes it look like natalie really leaned into the witchy aesthetic, which youβd find understandable if she werenβt using her magic to kill people.
sam walks faster than you know is wise to match paces with, so you follow behind him slowly as he rushes to set the computer with the list of ingredients on the table in the center of the room abd begin the spell. youβre a split second too late to shout in warning when you see a figure emerge from behind a shelf of herbs.
sam whirls around at your cry, gun raised, only to be hit on the side of the head,Β hard, by a wooden bat in natalieβs hand. he crumples to the ground despite his size, and without batting an eye, your knife is flying through the air, straight for the spot between natalieβs shoulder blades. but at the last second, she spins around, and with a flick of her hand, the knife falls to the ground. you reach for your gun, but through your hindered breathing, youβre slow. she has no trouble launching the bat at you at an unnatural speed. the wood slams into your chest, sending you sprawling and gasping in your weakened state. youβre fighting for breath so hard that you can barely register her hauling you up and tying your hands behind your back, then doing the same to sam. somehow, sheβs able to get his weight on a chair and tie him to the wobbly piece of furniture. then, itβs your turn, and by the time you come back to your senses, breathing far more labored than before, youβre tied to a chair, back to back with sam.
natalie gives you a horrid smile as she tugs at a knot to tighten it.
βwell, isnβt this fortuitous! such a lovely surprise for you two to visit me,β she chimes, just as you feel sam stirring behind you. his head lolls back, brushing against your own. you completely ignore her in favor of calling his name. a rumbling groan escapes his lips as he stumbles back into consciousness.
βthatβs right!β natalie grins, βitβll be much better with pretty boy awake.β she walks around you, and you hear a smacking sound that you presume to be her hitting his cheeks to wake him further.
βdonβt touch him,β you practically growl. it sounds far less intimidating than you hoped in your breathless voice. she laughs and sam lets out an audible huff of air as he wakes.
βthere he is,β natalie grins. βnow iβve got two love birds at my mercy! much better than i could have imagined. you know, i couldnβt watch the deaths of the others, so this is far more exciting. i thought iβd have to miss yours, too!β she motions to you. βbut now i get to watch you die, watch pretty boy watch you die, and then kill him, too! lovely isnβt it? iβve never had such luck, thank youΒ idiotsΒ for bringing it to me.β
βyouβre not killing anyone today,β sam retorts, anger filling his voice. with a bit of an uncomfortable stretch, you twist your fingers around to grab a hold of his. itβs awkward, but you take advantage of her horrible ramblings to keep her distracted and try to guide samβs hands to the tiny blade attached to the seam of your jacket sleeve.
βiβm not?β she laughs, βmmm, you donβt really seem like youβre in the position to determine that, pretty boy.β you hate her calling him that. βwell, love will do that to a person. makes you easy targets, blinds you. you two were just too easy, so busy making eyes at each other to pay any proper attention to me.β you conclude sheβs crazy, rambling on about what made her angry enough to kill. youβre sure she caught you making eyes at him, but sheβs crazy talking like heβs visibly in love with you too. immediately catching on to your plan, samβs hands are fumbling around with your jacket sleeve, trying to get the knife unstuck so it can slip down and into your hands.
βitβs so goddamn irritating when people are justΒ soΒ in love with each other. makes me want to hurl,β she complains.
βsounds to me like youβre just jealous your boyfriend didnβt treat you like that,β you prod at her weak spot. she whirls on you, grabbing the front of your jacket and yanking you towards her.
βso i killed him. and everything he was supposed to be,β she hisses. βand know iβm going to kill you two pining idiots. you know, you donβt have very long,β she feigns sympathy in the condescending tone of her voice. when she slams you back against the chair, it takes your breath away for a frighteningly long time. samβs so worried, calling your name out over and over again as you choke on nothing, that he almost doesnβt realize that the movement also helped dislodge the knife and let it fall into your hands. it slices a thin line down your arm, but you couldnβt care less as you begin to work on cutting through his bonds.
βoh, shut up, lover boy,β natalie growls, hating the way he says your name with so much care as she stays leaning over you, a sick smile on her face.Β why the hell is she calling him lover boy?Β you know thatβs not what you should be so worried about in this moment, but itβs the one thing that you can think about. βiβm busy watching your little lover die! i think youβll look so good crying over them, wonβt you?β
when samβs ties snap, he stays in place, holding onto the rope so it doesnβt drop to the ground and alert her. he just shimmies the knife from your hand to his and begins working on your own ties. through it all, he pretends to struggle helplessly, cursing at her wildly.
natalie rolls her eyes, then stands straight. βif you donβt shut it, iβm going to make you,β she snarls, stalking around to stand in front of sam. in an instant, he brings the knife to the rope binding him to the chair, snapping it and lunging towards her. judging from the choked cry that escapes her throat, samβs already plunged the knife into her neck. you hear him grunt, then the sound of her body hits the floor before heβs turned back to you, quickly freeing you all the way and pulling you to your feet. heβs halfway to the door with his hand gripping yours when you tug back.
βwaitβ¦ sam, wait!β you gasp, and heβs immediately face to face with you, sweet eyes looking you up and down with confusion and worry. βitβs notβ it didnβt work. the spell, we need to do the spell.β
βwhat do you mean? thatβs impossible, killing the witch who performed the spell alwaysβ,β he fully takes you in for the first time. your chest is still heaving, your breath rattling, and itβs undeniably getting worse by the minute. βokay, okay. just sit down.β he guides you back to a chair, turning it to face the table so he can keep an eye on you as he works. this time, youβre having a hard time hiding the fear from your eyes, and he reads that loud and clear. he lets you have his strong hands cupping your face for just a moment. βyouβre gonna be fine. iβm gonna fix this.β he says it with such conviction that youβd do anything to believe him. then his warm touch is gone, and youβre again hit with the reality that itβs getting harder and harder to breathe, to get any satisfactory amount of air.
your eyes follow him desperately as he rushes about the area, checking and rechecking the spell as he adds ingredients to a small cup he finds. his movements become more and more panicked by the second as he notices your breathing getting worse, more fluttery and gulping. samβs muttering to himself as he works, too scared to look at your face for too long. unable to find one of the ingredients, he curses loudly as he searches, shoving a whole rack of ingredients to the ground. glass shatters and the metal rack clangs against the ground, the sound echoing throughout the space.
flinching at the sound, you cry out his name, struggling to speak, βyou haveβ¦ you have to.. to calm .. calm down.β
βi canβt!β he practically shouts, and you think youβve never seen him this distraught, this helpless before.
βwhy?β is all you can manage between gasps.
βbecause youβre dying! and i canβt let you die, i wonβt.β heβs still rummaging through ingredients as he speaks. heβs still refusing to look at you.
you want him to say it, the truth, so you repeat the question, βwhy?β you wheeze out, desperate to hear it in case he canβt finish the spell on time.
βbecause i love you!β heβs no longer shouting when he says it. his voice is all desperation and helplessness and utter sincerity, said like all he needs in the world is for you to understand that. youβre not sure if the shuddering breath you let out could count as a sigh of relief, but itβs the closest youβll ever get.
you take him in. tears running down his cheeks, lips pursed and eyebrows pinched like heβs holding back from crying out.Β heβs pretty like that, you think. maybe thatβs a cruel thought, but you love him too much to think otherwise. heβs always pretty; when heβs mad at you, when heβs bleeding, when heβs stitching himself up, when heβs biting his lip in concentration. when he talks about something that makes him excited or when heβs crying. when heβs oblivious of the way you look at him while he sleeps, and when he makes you love him so hard that it hurts worse than anything a monster could do to you.
youβre lightheaded, and taking in so little air that you canβt say it back. all you want to do is say it back. you slide out of the chair and onto your hands and knees, shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up. from the ground, you can hear sam, moving around, letting jars fall and shatter to the ground, crying.
when you collapse to the floor, writhing and gasping for any semblance of air, sam snaps. he canβt find the goddamn rosemary, such a simple and common herb, even for a normal kitchen, especially compared to all the other ingredients, but he knows itβs essential for its protection, purification, and healing properties. he canβt give up, he canβt let you die, but youβre writhing on the ground and crying inbetween gasps and all he wants is to hold you close, brush your tears away and tell you itβll be alright. he barely catches the sound of your voice over the noise of his searching.
βpleaseβ¦β
βwhat? what is it, honey?β he asks through tears, unable to look at you as his eyes scan a new shelf for the basic pine-needle shape of the leaves, maybe even the little purple flowers to help it stand out.
βhold me,β you wheeze, afraid of dying alone on the stone cold floor as you feel your consciousness slipping through your fingertips like the sand of an hourglass. sam feels like heβs had his heart cleaved in two by a blunt ax coated in the worldβs most vile poison.
he chokes on a sob before he can speak again, βi canβt. iβm so sorry, baby, i canβt. i just need the rosemary, itβs so close,Β please, baby.β heβs not sure who heβs begging to. you, to stay alive? god, to intervene? himself, to finish the spell on time? anything and anyone who will listen, most likely. you donβt have the energy to ask him to hold you again.
that moment of silence is the most horrible of them all, then the door swings open with a bang, letting the bright lights from the rest of the house flood into the dark space. deanβs eyes zero in on you on the floor, grasping helplessly at your throat, and heβs on his knees by your side in a second.
he scoops you up in his arms and to his chest. βhey. hey, hey, hey. itβs okay,β he comforts, his eyes wet because he doesnβt know if he believes himself, given your state. βsamβs gonna fix it, darlinβ. youβre gonna be just fine.β heβs holding you too tight to wipe away the tears that helplessly stream down your face and he clings to the fact that your hand is gripping his wrist tight.
βdean, rosemary!β sam barks. dean looks up from you, eyes scanning the mess around you; natalieβs dead body and the blood from her wound seeping slowly over the floor, the shattered glass and clutter of dried herbs along with other magical ingredients. sam realizes dean probably wonβt recognize it on his own. βdried bundle, purple flowers, thin leaves,β he instructs as best as he can as he continues his own search. dean feels awful as he lets you fall back to the ground and your weak hands fingers scrape at his arms, but he thinks he sees it, rolled far away and invisible unless youβre crouched to the ground. he scrambles across the floor to grab it and tosses it to sam, who barely manages to catch it with his shaking hands.
sam rips at it with thick, clumsy fingers, crushing the brittle leaves between the pads of his forefinger and thumb into the mixture. heβs silently praying itβs enough as he mixes it in, letting a few drops slosh over the side of the cup in his rush. deanβs back with you, holding you up in a sitting position for sam with a hand smoothing up and down your arm in his best effort of a comforting gesture. he presses a kiss to your temple as sam drops down in front of you. sam uses one large hand to cup the side of your face, and the other to bring the cup to your lips. for a moment, heβs terrified beyond comprehension when the first bit of the liquid he pours into your mouth just dribbles right back out and down your chin.
youβve gone nearly completely still; your eyes are barely open and your breathing so shallow that only dean knows youβre still inhaling because heβs got you so close.
βplease,β sam begs, whispering your name with such conviction, such desperation, that it pulls you away from the claws of unconsciousness just enough to get you to swallow weakly. sam tilts the cup up, just a bit more, and the rim knocks against your bottom teeth as more foul tasting liquid seeps into your mouth. you swallow again, then gag a little when he pours too much for you to handle in your current state. samβs hopeful when half the mixture is down your throat and he tilts the cup for you again, but the liquid falls down your chin this time, and your eyes are closed. youβve gone totally still in deanβs arms.
βno, no, no, wake up. cβmon, weβre almost there. you gotta wake up,β sam begs again, more tears spilling onto his cheeks after his hope is stolen away, more cruelly than ever. βplease, please,Β please, honey. please wake up.β his voice breaks as he calls out your name again, setting the cup on the floor and taking you from dean to pull you into his own arms. dean lets him, swallowing hard and not daring to move an inch as he takes in the sight, maybe just about the most horrible thing heβs seen in his fucked up life. thatβs the second family member heβs had die in his arms, and the first is holding your limp body as he shakes, cries, and begs, beyond distraught as he denies the fact that he couldnβt save you. dean curses his life. he wishes it was him, thinks about the fact that heβs always too late to make a difference. heβs ready to sell his soul again, ready to go to hell and back.
youβre dead weight against samβs chest, your clammy forehead and tear-sticky cheeks pressed against the sweaty skin of his neck. he gathers you closer, his hand tugging at your jacket and rubbing up and down your back, begging for you to wake up.
deanβs about to interrupt samβs mourning to tell him heβs gonna look for the nearest crossroads, that all sam needs to do is keep your body safe. then you shudder in samβs arms and heβs calling your name again, far beyond desperate that youβll hear him. he says your name like a prayer, with so much reverence, far more than he could ever muster up for the god he wants to believe in.
you take in a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, and youβre gasping for air, grasping at samβs sturdy arms like youβve almost just drowned. sam just about sobs in relief, comforting you through his own tears, βoh, youβre okay, honey, youβre alright. iβve got you. just breathe, baby, just breathe, thatβs all you gotta do.β his voice instantly calms you, and you wrap your shaky arms around his neck to show him you understand.Β heβs got you. he buries his face into your neck, trying not to hold you too tight for fear of restricting your breathing. you feel the wetness of his tears on you, warm and so tired. you donβt want him to cry. he loves you.
his hands smooth up and down your back, helping you set a pace to calm down your erratic breathing as you let a fresh wave of tears fall on his hot skin. theyβre tears of relief, most of all. of exhaustion and leftover fear, and oh,Β glory, tears becauseΒ he loves you. he said it, and now he canβt take it back because you love him far too much for that.
βsammy,β you breathe out. he just holds you tighter. βdonβt cry, sam. itβs okay. iβm okay.β you slip your fingers into his hair, your hand so gentle as you run it through his pretty locks. you just want to comfort him, take away all the fear from the last few hours that heβs been holding onto, letting pile up and up into an unmanageable, unruly, ugly tower. you suppose him crying so much is him letting the tower topple over, almost as simple as a toddlerβs chubby, innocent hands to a wooden block castle. but it still tugs at your heart, pulls at you so hard because you hate to hear him cry, feel him shake and stiffen up around you, too scared to let you go for even a second. βiβm okay,β you repeat, voice fragile from the whispering brush of deathβs fingers to your palm, but you try to make it strong and confident for him, βyou saved me, sammy, iβm alright. itβs alright. itβs over. you donβt need to worry anymore.βΒ
you think he relaxes just a touch at your words, but he doesnβt move an inch from his spot on the ground, or say a thing to interrupt the sound of your breathing. all he does is cradle you close, one hand to your back so he can feel it shift when you take in or let out air, and the other splayed from the curve of your neck, up to the base of your head. without moving too much, he presses a long kiss to the ambiguous space above your ear. thatβs not enough, so he tilts his head more to press his lips to the skin of your forehead.
dean hates to break the silent reverence between the two of you, and it means more than the world, the whole goddamn universe or anything else he could ever think of, to see this instead of you dead in samβs arms. you might be the love of samβs life, but that just makes dean all the more protective of you. to dean, youβre family, and you have been for a long time. thatβs why he needs to get the two of you away from here, before anyone finds you and the dead body.
βsam,β dean interrupts, voice somehow both gentle and extra gruff, βwe gotta go.β he knows sam can get you up on his own, but he still places a firm hand on your elbow as the two of you stand. he doesnβt want to let his hand fall away from you, but he does anyway. on the way out and to the car, youβre tucked safe into samβs side, and deanβs got his gun in hand, ready to protect the both of you need be.
dean expects it when sam climbs in the backseat with you, just thankful to get away from the damned house and back to the motel. the ride is mostly silent, save the rumble of the engine, and samβs hand stays securely wrapped around yours, itching to pull you even closer. you yawn and sam tugs at your hand, then drops his gaze to his lap when you look at him, offering to let you lie there. you canβt resist, because historically, your head in his lap has been heaven, and you figure that this time, after having heard him say βi love you,β itβll be something better than heaven, something undiscovered and infinitely more precious than all the gold and silver in the world. so you drop your head to his thigh, and his hands are immediately on you. youβve got the warmth of his palms on your head and your shoulder. your own hand is on his knee, taking in the feel of his time-worn jeans, and the muscle, sinew, and bone underneath.
you fall asleep, just 10 minutes from the motel, and sam doesnβt want to wake you, but you always do anytime he tries to carry you to bed.
he calls your name, all tenderness and sweet as he rubs your shoulder. you stir easily, only having fallen into a light slumber. the sigh you let out when you sit up is soft, and sam thinks itβs cute. then he thinks about the fact that, when you both settle down, he wonβt have to hold that thought back. βyouβre cute,β he can say, and make you both a little flustered before pressing a kiss to your lips. until then, heβs getting out of the car with you, only letting his hands stray from you when dean pulls you into a hug, right then and there. he holds you tight, showing you how scared he was too, so you squeeze back with extra care.
βdonβt scare us like that again, kiddo. you got it?β he mumbles into the embrace.Β
you nod, βi got it.β he lingers for a moment, then presses a quick kiss to the side of your head before parting and letting sam take over again.
heβs got a hand stuck to your back on the way into the room, all the way to the bed you shared last night. you donβt hesitate to peel off your dirty shirt and go to put on a new one, but samβs already holding one out to you. dean disappears into the bathroom, despite not wanting to let you out of his sight.
you tug on the shirt, then collapse into bed, taking sam with you.
βyou stink,β you complain lightheartedly, looking at him with honey-sweet love in your eyes. he wants to joke back, but heβs not quite there yet.
βiβll shower after dean, if you want,β he offers, nothing but sincere. you smile at him, his nose inches from yours.
βbut then youβd have to get up,β you say.
βsure, but if thatβs what you want,β he repeats. heβd do anything for you, you think.
you shake your head. βthatβs not what i want. i donβt want you to go. but i also want to fall asleep in your arms, and it sucks that you smell like blood, sweat, and nasty potions.β
βso what do i do, baby?β he asks, voice light, but you think he really means it. you melt at the pet name.
βhmmm,β you consider, truly not sure. youβre all quick in the shower after years of experience in motel bathrooms, but that still feels like such a long time to be away from him, especially since you should probably shower, too. you decide to suck it up. βyou shower, then me. dean said the water was still hot yesterday, even when he went last.β youβre not sure when your voice dropped to a whisper, but itβs quiet now. he sighs, half disappointed, but knowing itβll be much more comfortable that way.
the second youβre out of the shower and dressed, samβs tugging you back into bed with him and tucking you into his chest. his hold is still protective and a little wary. you want to make him relax, so you wiggle away just a bit to look at his face.
βsam, iβm so hungry,β you complain. he smiles at you, thinking youβre too cute to resist when you whine just a little. and he just loves it when you say his name.
βyouβre gonna make me get up again?β he asks, and you hold back a triumphant grin because his voice has turned pleasantly lighthearted.
βyouβreΒ gonna let me starve?β you tease back.
βfine,β he huffs, βwe can go to the vending machine together.β he really doesnβt want to be far from you.
βno,β you protest, dragging out the βoβ just a little. βwe had that earlier. and chips donβt count as a meal. poor dean probably hasnβt eaten at all today! we deserve a treat,β you argue.
sam canβt deny you anything you want in this moment. βwe do,β he agrees, βwhat dβyou want? maybe we can convince dean to pick it up for us.β
you smile. βmmm, thatβs not fair. dean deserves a treat, too. iβll satisfy myself with vending machine food for a few hours, then we can go out to an early dinner.β
βare you sure?β sam asks. you smile more.
βmhmm,β you nod. βi have the excuse to buy a candy bar too now.β
dean, splayed out on his own bed, has likely been listening in on this whole conversation, and graciously chosen not to interrupt. he smiles at you as you exit the room.
with a glance that no oneβs around, sam slips his hand into yours as you make your way to the vending machine down the hall. your heart blooms at the feeling, at the way heβs been looking at you without shame and suddenly you realize you never said it back. sam punches in the number for an excessive amount of snacks, getting all of yours, his, and deanβs favorites, waiting til they all fall down to collect them. he bends over, gathering them all in his big arms and wide pockets and handing a few to you. the crinkling of plastic fills the quiet air as you watch him with a sort of worship and adoration dripping from your eyes. you take in the curve of his back, the peek of his spine that you get from his tshirt riding up a bit, and the pretty brown hair on the back of his head. when he stands, he catches that gaze, and for once you donβt hide it away or tuck it into that corner of the drawer where you keep all the little trinkets you donβt need, but canβt bear to get rid of. because youΒ needΒ this, and you can have this.
βi didnβt get to say it back.β your voice comes out hushed, reverent.
βsay what?β he asks, matching his voice to yours without even trying. you take in all the subtle ways that his face changes, as he thinks about what you could mean. the left side of his mouth quirks down, just a bit, and his eyebrows pinch together. itβs not quite the expression he makes then heβs worried or upset, just thinking.
βi love you, too.β when those words finally escape, finally make themselves known and heard, everything is different. itβs like youβve never really breathed before this, because the simplest of things, like an inhale that fills your lungs with stale motel air, is soΒ good, so satisfying, so much better when he looks at you like that. βfor as long as i can remember, sam, i love you. when we were kids at bobbyβs, seventeen and getting soaked in the rain, every moment before then and every moment after, andββ
his lips are on yours and thereβs a messy ruckus of plastic wrapped snacks being dropped to the floor, because he couldnβt care about anything except kissing you. his warm, rough hands are so gentle cupping your cheeks and pulling you into him, and you follow suit in disregarding the food in your hands to place them firm on his waist, almost squeezing his sides because you need this to be as real and as solid as it possibly can be.
some might question the merit of this being your first kiss with each other. but itβs soΒ you and sam, standing in an empty motel hallway next to the vending machine and itβs crappy food scattered around your feet. plastic crinkling and rustling when you get closer, and a hunger so insatiable that it makes it hard to breathe.
when you finally break away, panting just a bit, samβs eyes swim with concern as his mind flashes back to you just an hour ago.
βiβm okay,β you interrupt his paranoid thoughts and loop your arms around his neck, βiβm okay, sam. βs just you. baby, i know this is a horrible time to say this, but youΒ alwaysΒ take my breath away, in the best way. youβre so pretty, and iβm so in love with you that when i look at you for too long, i forget to breathe, andββ
his lips are back on yours, telling youΒ me too, me too, me too. saying as they push and mold against yours,Β you take my breath away and i love you for it.
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Muscle moves under tanned skin warmed by sunlight, the surface smooth and golden. Moles dot the expanse of a back, a pair of eyes connects them like constellations and memorises the patterns. A breeze disturbs chestnut hair pushed off a forehead in irritation, and eyelashes flutter against pink cheeks. Water moves against the piles of a jetty; a soothing song of a lake in the middle of a deserted town. A half-eaten tangerine sits on the wood, a bee hovering a hair's breadth away from the sweet juice.
Familiar fingers dance along his skin, and Sam purrs in a way akin to a cat. You laugh breathlessly at the sound, goosebumps rising on his skin as your fingertips brush along the dips and curves of his arm.
"Keep doin' that."
You hum softly, resting your head on your bent arm as you watch his eyelids twitch. "Don't go falling asleep on me."
Sam makes a sound and turns his face away from the sun, and in turn, you.
"Come back," You whisper, moving your hand from his arm to his hair. You work through the knots of salt-dried strands and scratch his scalp to gain his attention. "Sammy."
The man groans, turning back toward you. "Sun hurts my eyes."
You lean your face closer to his, your fingers tracing down the side of his cheek. "Poor baby."
Sam cracks one eye open before immediately shutting it, a single dimple indenting his cheek. You press a finger into the dip and giggle when he swipes your hand away.
The towel is scratchy against your body as you sit up, an extra one nicked from the motel on your way out to the water, the corner stained a sticky orange. You reach for the fruit, the bee zipping away as you start peeling the remaining segments from the rind.
Sunglasses low on your nose, you push them up with your wrist and place a piece of tangerine on your tongue. The flavour bursts in your mouth as you chew, another piece between your fingertips.
"Here," You mumble, holding it out.
Sam opens his eyes again and raises his eyebrows. "For me?"
"No," You deadpan, juice dripping down your wrist. "For the ghost lying next to you."
A smile tugs at his lips, and he takes the fruit with his teeth.
"Thank you, honeybee."
The words come out muffled by the fruit, but you hear them clearly. Your chest opens at the sound of his deep, tired voice, conveying such rich sweetness, and sigh. You pause, swallowing thickly as emotion makes its way up your throat.
His single open eye admires you in a way that's familiar, but you'd never get accustomed to. You realise then and there that you'd never get tired of this man.
Your movements are quick.
"Hey," Sammy giggles as you push him onto his back. "Whatcha doin'?"
The sun is glaring down at him, but he can see you perfectly fine. You lean over his face, your sunglasses discarded behind you.
"What'd you call me?"
Sammy's giggle turns into a nervous laugh, his eyes slightly glassy. And you'd guess the sun is blinding him, but when his waterlines start turning pink, you know that's not the case.
"Honeybee," He whispers shyly, hands coming up to rest on your waist. "Is that ok?"
A laugh escapes you without meaning to, and you nod, your gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips. "Call me whatever you want, baby."
Sam let out a breath through his nose, somewhere between amused and exasperated. "Not what I was asking."
You brush his hair out of his eyes. Samβs eyes hold that familiar flicker of doubt, like heβs asking for something heβs not sure he deserves.
"Of course you can call me that," You murmur, your voice gentle with understanding.
Sam smiles a smile reserved only for youβit's bright and childlike, a joy he feels only when he's with you. "Perfect."
He wraps his arms around you and pulls you down, a soft squeal coming from your lips. Sam's laugh is deep and mellow, your mouth swallowing the sound as he kisses you.
He pulls back slightly, your lips still touching as he squeezes you tightly against him. "My honeybee."
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming