#"eas

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: over time, sam has seemed to think that you don’t love him anymore. you practically beg rowena to show him how much you actually treasure him. 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 672 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: sam winchester x reader

𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

It starts small.

That’s the cruelest part.

It starts with Sam hesitating before kissing you goodbye. With the way he asks “you okay?” like he’s already preparing himself for the answer. With how he doesn’t reach for your hand unless you do first.

You don’t notice at first. You’re tired. Hunts blur together, the bunker feels heavier lately, and you love Sam the same way you always have—steady, fierce, tucked safely beneath your ribs where it’s always lived. The idea that he could doubt that never even occurs to you.

Sam notices everything.

He notices how you don’t linger in doorways anymore, how you don’t curl into his side without thinking. You still say I love you, still smile, still laugh—but it feels quieter now. Less urgent. Like something carefully maintained instead of desperately needed.

And Sam Winchester has spent his entire life learning how to read between the lines.

So he starts to pull back. Slowly. Carefully. Like if he creates the distance first, it won’t hurt as much when it finally becomes permanent.

You notice that.

You notice the space on the couch. The way he busies himself when you walk into a room. The way his smiles don’t quite reach his eyes anymore. The way he looks at you like he’s already grieving something that hasn’t ended yet.

It guts you.

“Rowena,” you say one night, catching her in the kitchen while Sam’s out with Dean. Your voice shakes, traitorous. “He thinks I don’t love him.”

Rowena studies you for a long moment, then sighs softly. “Ah. That kind of fear leaves deep marks.”

“I don’t know how to fix it,” you whisper. “I tell him I love him. I show up. I just—” Your hand presses to your chest. “I need him to see it.”

Rowena’s gaze sharpens, thoughtful. “I can help with that.”

When Sam comes back to the bunker later, rain-soaked and exhausted, you’re waiting for him in the war room with trembling hands and a heart that feels too big to carry.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, like the word itself might overstep.

“Hey,” you reply. “Can you trust me for a minute?”

He nods without hesitation. He always does.

Rowena murmurs the spell, magic humming low and warm...

And suddenly Sam isn’t standing in the bunker anymore.

He’s seeing it.

He sees you curled on his side of the bed on nights he’s gone too long, fingers tracing the empty pillow. Sees you watching him sleep after nightmares, eyes soft and aching, whispering reassurances you never thought he’d hear.

He sees every time you flinch when he’s hurt—and every time you swallow it down so he won’t have to carry it too. Sees you defending him when he’s not in the room. Choosing him. Over and over. Quietly. Fiercely.

He sees the love threaded through everything. A constant, unwavering glow like a pulse beneath your skin.

Sam staggers, breath punched from his lungs. “Oh my God,” he whispers.

Your voice breaks. “This is what you don’t see. This is what I’ve been carrying.”

Tears spill down his face before he can stop them. “I thought you were slipping away,” he admits. “I thought I was loving you more than you loved me.”

You shake your head, laughing weakly through tears. “Sam, I love you so much it scares me. I just didn’t know you needed proof.”

He closes the distance in two long strides, hands cradling your face like you might vanish. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I let my fear rewrite you.”

“Next time,” you murmur, forehead pressed to his, “tell me. Don’t disappear.”

He nods, eyes shining. “I promise.”

When he kisses you, it’s slow and reverent, like he’s relearning something sacred. When he pulls back, his smile is lighter and real.

“I see it now,” he says softly. “I—I do.”

And for the first time in a long while, the silence between you doesn’t feel like loss.

So when you say I love you, he hears it where it’s always lived.

Right in his chest.