#reader x sam

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

✨Hands gliding over every inch of your skin, with a divine pressure after you climax is a must. He knows how much it strains both of you to get there, and wants to sooth every ache. Many kisses placed to the back of shoulder, or your forehead and lips. Lowering his self to whisper sweet words into your ear “you did so good baby” , “I love you so much y/n” , “perfect, you look so damn perfect”. After that he will stay cuddled up to you till you decide you want to move, and instead of letting you- he gets up and cleans both of you up. Making sure to make you laugh, and feel beautiful in the same moment. His eyes unable to look away from every curve, freckle, and little things he wanted to memorize. Sometimes he will draw a bath with your favorite essentials line along the rim for easy access, and will join sitting behind washing your hair for you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

✨His favorite part his body is height. Low-not so lowkey he has an ego about it and his athletic build. If he can lift you onto his waist and lost it inside you against a wall. Sam is there. Gently holding your wrists against the wall above your head, attacking your neck with wet kisses.

His favorite body part on you are your thighs. The way they fill his large hands, or holding them against the sides of his head while dives in for a taste of you- he is on heaven.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

✨Sam will never admit this but he loves to cum on your face and back, but his favorite is inside you. When you’re on your back, foreheads reaching for each other as he rides you through yours before being to unable to keep savoring the feeling of you- back to the part of your face- if he is standing and your “pretty lips” having been tending to him, and you look up at him with his cum dripping down your chin. He feels feral.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

✨Sam’s dirty secret is he likes to watch you play with yourself, its not harmful as long as you consent to it which makes it more enjoyable for him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

✨Sam knows what he is doing, but i will say this again later. He is a yearner. Anything he can do to please you, he is someone who looks like he hasn’t ate in years. So not many woman but he is a man who pays attention. If he notices your breath hitch, a moan passing your lips as his own go over a certain part or a thrust- he focuses on it. On you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

✨Cowgirl, he gives dean crap for his jokes about it but when it comes to you and him. He loves being able to hold you up, thrusting into you from underneath to help you reach your high. Kissing under your jaw when your thighs burn, and you give into his rhythm as his hands glide and grip onto your hips. He loves the surrender and the control.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

✨Sam can do both. If he serious he is grabbing, pulling, pushing, touching anywhere and everywhere- tongue following pursuit. He yearns to not only meld minds with you but feel you. When he is goofy, sam can match your vibe. Giggling and assuring you “its okay, i got you” as he helps you, and if he becomes unbalanced from your height difference. He helps hold and hoist both of you back to stability.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

✨The carpet is well kept, just as his longer locks, and clean shaven look. He doesn’t have a certain routine but he is very clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

✨Sam is very romantic, making sure you are okay, needing your consent to any change in the bedroom dynamic and stopping when you ask or sees you become triggered in anyway. Breathing with you through it, and reminding you that you are safe. He will run his fingers through your hair, softly promising “im not going to hurt you, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable beautiful.” He just needs that respect returned for him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

✨Sam will jack off whenever he cant get you, mainly in the shower where he can lock the door and the noise of the water hitting the tub floor makes it almost impossible to hear him grunt into his arm as he imagine the hand, or rather you’re bouncing back onto his cock.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

✨light bondage with whatever he can find to tie your hands or legs if he is feeling a bit more confident that night, and you both have code words for stop.

✨marking kink, if he can leave physical evidence you are with him- it makes him feel accomplished. He does this with his mouth of course, nothing to do with his hands unless its on your ass ;)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

✨The bedroom is for private but Sam has been guilty of public restroom bending you over the sink after locking the door. His hand instantly under your jeans or skirt. Fingers expertly find your clit, applying gentle pressure while moving in circular motions to the sounds of your moans. He has also been guilty of liking the adrenaline from having you sitting on his lap in the back of baby while Dean is passed out cold or out with a fling that night. Meaning he has time to clean up both of you and the impala afterwards.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

✨Anything subconsciously to your lips, lipstick, a pen stuck between your teeth, it puts him in freeze. His eyes locked onto it as if you’re moving in slo-mo.

✨More importantly if you are passionately telling him about something you learned or are talking about it makes both his mind, heart, and his body fall for you even more. He finds a woman’s mind sexier than any physical part he can see.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

✨This is pretty obvious but anything to do with nc and body fluids/debris.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

✨Sam is a certified giver and taker but he does love to give you extra time and attention. Just to see how far he can take you with just his mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

✨Sam’s normal is sensual, taking his time. Holding you, and making sure you are getting to most attention but when you are in the mood for him to let loose and take control. He can be a soft dominant- positioning your body right where he wants you, teasing your nipples with his fingers, not allowing you to cum and whispering softly in your ear “ah uh, you don’t get to cum yet sweetheart, you can do this baby” his breath husky almost over the edge him self.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

✨Quickies are second nature to sam with you by now, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it. If you’re on the road hunting, he tries to hold in that tension from subtle or accidental touches- flirting about about good you look in your formal outfit after interviewing witnesses, but after all is said and done; sam will have you in the next private area absolutely tearing the outfit apart just to feel you, taste you, or let all the tension out as he slams his hips against the plush of your ass. Hand in your hair pulling and gripping just enough to whisper all his thoughts throughout the day about “taking me so good after teasing me in that dress”.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

✨Sam can be a risk taker but if it exceeds your or his comfort, its a pretty big no. ~Consent is sexy in this house!

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

✨He is willing to go as long as you want, just to be in the moment with you is enough for him- and speaking of how long he can last- firm believer in woman cum first ;) foreplay and then however many rounds you can physically handle, you always get there first.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

✨He is open to anything that makes it pleasurable for you, he doesn’t mind seeing you squirm while he is in charge of those toys. Bringing you to the edge just to lower the vibration making you beg him to put it back makes him feral. His jeans tight around his hardening length, already unbuckling his belt for a little room while he watches you unfold In front of him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

✨Sam likes to tease until he see’s the que of your eyes rolling back, body tensed or feels it himself. Locking into that moment. If you tease him, he is right where he wants to be especially if you put him in his place.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

✨Sam isn’t loud but find the right spot, or position. Grunts, or moans of rumble deeply from his chest to pass his lips. If he notes that his own sounds further yours, he lets loose- enamored within that space between you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

✨Sam is a certified yearner in the bedroom. ONCE AGAIN. 🙂‍↔️ the closer he can get to you, or make you feel beautiful inside and out- he is doing it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

✨The height checks out for the stereotype- length and girth have blessed him. Due to his eating and exercise habits, he is big man! Muscles defined and toned, perfect to trace with your mouth exploring every valley and peak right down to the happy trail he keeps well trimmed ;)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

✨Sam is the king of yearning, however in a modest way. Lingering hands, lips, etc. He craves you in a way that he doesn’t quite understand himself. Its having to restrain himself the morning after a long overdue session- wanting nothing more than to start again but instead taking care of you because its more internally satisfying that you are taken care of rather than his own needs.

High but low-key. Comfortable in his own skin.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

You swing into the driveway and slam your door shut probably more aggressively that your bank account can afford. You swing open your front door and spy Dean and Sam standing ready with concerned looks on their faces. You slam the door behind you and throw your purse onto the chair beside the door before plucking a cigarette from your pack and lighting it quickly. 

"Well fuck!  Sorry guys!" You say through a long exhale; white smoke dancing around your head. 

The brothers remain silent as you puff agitatedly at the end of your cigarette; seemingly passing concerned and unknowing looks to each other. You sulk across the room, plopping yourself harshly down into the brown sofa before pulling your phone out.  You peer at its little illuminated screen and take a long drag of the cigarette before speaking.

“You’re on your own, I can’t come..” You say with a long puff of smoke.

"Wait, what?" Dean asks, in a harsh tone.

You lock your phone screen and toss it beside you, taking another long puff from your butt. 

"You're gonna have to find someone else to be your bait this time.." You say disappointedly.

Sam glides over and sits next to you on the couch trying his best to comfort you, but as always, comforting was not comforting to you in any situation. Dean, angrily stomps in place huffing, as you take another rip from your butt.

“Why the hell not?!” Dean asks all but kindly.

"Finn's dad called… he can't take him this weekend.." You say through another puff.

You allow a long silent pause as you take a few more drags from your cigarette and snuff it out in the ashtray.  Sam sits with a sorrowful look towards you while Dean stands with his hands firmly on his hips, glaring in your direction. 

"I'm sorry guys, I didn't mean to let you down.. again.."

"Y/N, you never let us down…" Sam tries to comfort you. Though you know lying has never been his strong suit…

You sit back against the couch and sigh, knowing if they hadn’t stopped last night they’d probably already found a new willing huntress along the way, and gotten to the vamps nest by now. You uneasily chew at your bottom lip and eye Dean as he strides over towards the oversized recliner and takes a seat.  He lets out a deep sigh and palms his face, running his fingers through his hair.

“Fucking asshole can buy a half a million dollar house for his skank ass fiance, a palm beach wedding, and fucking boulder sized rock for her hand, but can’t be bothered to see his own son every other weekend…” You huff angrily through your teeth. 

“Yeah, you sure know how to pick um, Y/N..” Dean replies with a scoff.

“...Hey!” Sam cuts Dean off, in efforts to defend you…or himself, you’re not completely sure.

He didn’t need to be offended, Sam hadn’t really been ‘picked’, per se, more like fate chose him for you, …after he saved your ass from being just another meal…

“Sorry guys, you’re gonna have to find someone else willing to be bait…” You tell them apologetically.  "But, at least I can make you breakfast now." 

Your small effort in trying to lighten the mood is pretty unhelpful, but you stand and pace towards the kitchen to begin cooking anyway.

"Y/N, we don't really have time for that.. But thank you." Sam says trailing after you in a few giant steps.

You breathe another angry sigh and brace your hands against the counter.  You turn and face the two men blocking everything between you and the living room, with your arms crossed.

"We can get a babysitter…or maybe your mom can watch…" Sam mentions.

Dean meets Sam's eye and he quickly stops anymore mention of your mom.

"I can't afford a babysitter all weekend, Sam." You reply wiping at your forehead.

Dean steps forward a bit taking a seat at the table where he was with Finn earlier. 

"Well the kids like, what… 10…12.. can't he stay for the weekend by himself?" Dean asks utterly and completely unknowingly.

You and Sam make eye contact, doing little to hold back the judgment on your face.

"Six Dean! He's six… so, no!"

Sam snickers a little and Dean shoots him a glare.

"Okay…then let's bring him along!" Dean mentions looking back to you.

"Absolutely not!" You and Sam both cry out at the same time.

Dean's eyes grow wide and he dramatically raises his hands up from the table.

"Alright, mom and dad,...well while you two figure out what to do with junior here,... I'm gonna make a few calls…" 

Dean stands and walks back towards the living room and you hear the front door creak open then shut again. 

You turn back around towards the sink and after a long moment of thinking, notice the dishes drying in the rack beside you. You eye them a bit as you run the water.

"Oh, thanks Sam. …You didn't actually have to do the dishes..." You say softly.

Sam strides slowly towards you and you turn around quickly before he has the chance to put his huge hands around your waist… a favorite move of his he always seemed to do years ago…

"I'm… sorry Sam. Really." You say coldly and abruptly as you look up towards him.

He stops in his tracks, his hands dropping to his sides before he sighs through a slight smirk.

"It's not your fault, Y/N. You're a mom first, I know…" 

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Sam scoffs and darts his eyes back and forth from you.

"I mean.. Not just a mom… more of a...hot mom?..." he adds with a slight smirk.

You allow a giggle to escape you and Sam allows his smile to unfold openly across his face.

“I’m serious though..” he adds. 

His smile slowly fades as he meets your eyes.

“You’re a really good mom, Finns a good kid.  And he's really, really lucky to have you..” 

You hang your head and smile, before waltzing away from him, searching for your pack of cigarettes again. 

The front door creaks open again and Dean's huge shoulders bob through the wooden doorway. 

"Well good news and bad news.." He states in his deep tone as he latches the door behind him.

You flick your plastic pink lighter and inhale again.

"..I don't have to call out of work?" You ask through a clouded exhale..

"God, would you stop, with the smoking?! Dean states, using his hand to direct your cigarette smoke elsewhere. 

Dean strides over to take a seat on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. 

"Every other chick…lady… ma’am, within a driving distance of here is MIA…so we're back to square one…” he says with a huff.  “...Unless…”

Dean smiles; devilishly eyeing Sam over his shoulder. You tip your head towards Sam with an exhale as Sam stares blankly back between you and Dean, hands buried in his pockets as the realization slowly builds up in him.

"Sammy! Break out the little green army men, and comic books; you're babysitting!"

~~~~

With only a few moments of shout-arguing, as to why Sammy was the one to be assigned babysitter; you trying your best to defuse the situation in almost any means possible, then finally Sam and yourself tired of arguing with the hot head, you all reluctantly agree and are on the road towards the Vamp nest.

“So how's your sister?” Dean asks in a lighthearted voice.

“Who knows..” You reply with a scoff.

You allow the long unpleasant quietness to linger in the air for a few moments.

"Where'd you say this is?" You ask peering out the window at the passing road signs.

"New York." Dean says.

Your face lights up and bit, and he notices.

"..State.. Don't get all excited we are not doing any shopping here princess…"

You cast him a disappointed scowl.

"...What?" Dean says with a huff. "...This is not the time for a city shopping trip, no way!" He says in a defensive tone.

You whip your head to the side and stare blankly at him.

"If you're gonna be in this kind of mood all weekend, you can turn right around and drive me home." You say sternly.

Dean shakes his head from side to side, a thick devilish grin growing across his face.  You read his tone and sit back in your seat with a huff.

"...Well you could at least let me smoke.." 

"Don't even think about stinking up 'baby' with those…those damn cancer sticks…" Dean says as the smirk fades away from his face.

"Well!" You throw your hands up in the air with a scoff, "Can you pull over then? Just for a minute?" You ask turning back towards him.

"Y/N, it's only been a few hours, we got a lot of pavement to chase to get there before tonight." He says calmer but still in his deep Dean tone.

You cross your arms and look back out the window without saying another word.  

Dean glances down at his watch and does a few double takes in your direction.

"...We'll stop soon for some grub.." Dean says lower again. "...can you wait till then?"

You sigh dramatically and try to sneak a side eye at Dean's sorrowful look you know he must have on his face right now.

"...Don't have much of a choice now, do I?" You grumble through a smirk.

Dean reaches for the volume dial and cranks it up a few notches as you both settle back into your seats. You watch as the highway signs pass by and watch your phone intently, wishing the time would pass quicker. 

Roughly twenty minutes go by in silence beside the roaring of baby's wheels, and classic rock that plays from the car stereo. Dean slows the car and veers off the side of the road. He reaches down into his coat pocket and shines the silver zippo in front of your face, ready to hand it over. You smile gleefully, holding up your generic pink lighter before stepping out of the car and slipping a cigarette between your lips quickly. You suck at the little stick and feel the head rush from not having had one in some hours. You steady yourself against the car and suck long puffs. All too soon, you've sucked down to the filter and you drop the butt to the ground and stub it out with the toe of your boot. 

You slide back in beside Dean and he scoffs revving the engine a bit. 

"You stink." He says plainly in his Dean tone. You barely shut the door before he slams the car in drive and heads back towards the pavement. 

"You stink!" You mock back, rolling your window down a bit for him. "..thank you.." You add quietly. 

"You gonna quit the silent treatment with me now?" He asks still harshly, but more jokingly this time.

"Hmmm…maybe…" You add with a giggle as you peer out the window.

You reach over and turn the radio up a few notches again as an AC/DC song begins to blare over the ancient stereo.  You and Dean both look at each other and allow a long awaited hearty laugh to leave your mouths.

"You really thought Sam wouldn't fight babysitting, huh?" You ask, peering from the road in front of you and back to Dean's handsome chiseled face. He has a tiny bit of stubble growing in around his mouth and you allow your stare a bit longer than you know you should, as you follow the faint trail down towards the collar of his shirt. He snaps his head back towards you with a wicked smile and you dart your eyes back up to his trying to smile calmly. 

"Nah, he's just better at it.." Dean says before looking back towards the road. 

You sigh and join him looking out through the windshield at the cracked worn road.

"Oh please…" you say, shifting in your seat a bit. "...we all know ‘daddy Dean’ is just a big teddy bear at heart.." You say confidently. 

"Daddy Dean, huh?..." He smiles, snapping his head back towards you for a brief second. "..I like when you talk dirty to me…"

You reach over and playfully push his face away and he chuckles a bit, straightening in his seat. 

"I'm serious!" You say through a chuckle of your own.

"I can vividly recall all the times you'd pluck Finn from his highchair and dance with him in the kitchen while making bacon…" you say, recalling the events as if they happened only a few days ago. 

You peer over seeing the faint grin on Dean's face as he also can recall the events. You smile down towards your lap and reminisce in the memories that dance through your head.

“...What was that song you used to play all the time?” He asks in a charming tone.

“Banana pancakes!” you blurt out.  “I love that song!”

“I hate that song..” Dean says in unison with you. “...Jack Johnonson, disgrace to musicians everywhere…” he jokes with a smile still on his lips.

“Come on, it wasn't that bad..” You add through a giggle.

“Oh it was!..” Dean shakes his head staring out the windshield. “...I only let you play it, cuz Finn liked it…”

You bop your head a bit in your seat, turning back out towards your window. 

“...Can’t you see, it's just raaiin…nin….” you hum under your breath.

“...Ain't no need to go outside…” Dean adds after a long pause.

Your smile widens across your face as you flash your head around towards Dean; his eyes darting back and forth across the road. 

“It’s a stupid song!” he says, still smirking. “Who even likes pancakes?! Waffles are where it's at!”

You giggle quietly to yourself and look ahead again.

“Especially ‘Banana’ pancakes… if anything…chocolate chip! I mean come on!” 

You allow a long cackle spill from your lips, and lean forward in your seat a bit.  Dean eyes darting between you and the road, as you try to calm your fit of laughter a bit.

“You know, I… I really miss you guys..” you say, allowing your unguarded words to linger in the air for a moment without meeting Dean's look.

“...Yeah, we miss you guys too..” he says after a long pause.

His giant palm reaches out and tenderly pats your thigh; you swallow hard and freeze. You stare out the window beside you as you feel the red heat rush into your face, enjoying his huge, rough, warm hand resting heavily on your little thigh next to him. You can’t help but give into the fact that any touch from him makes your heart race and your pulse quicken. You try to calm yourself as the overwhelming, senseless urge; to grab him by his chiseled broad jaw, and collide his perfect plump little pink lips against yours, burns in your chest. 

He leaves his hand on your leg for what feels like an eternity, but in reality it was probably just a few seconds.  Finally, and although regrettable as much as reliving; Dean retracts his hand back and grips at the wheel. You allow a long exhale to escape you as you try to hide the shiver gyrating through you as you straighten your pant legs and pull out your phone. You click the home button and peer down reading ‘0 New Notifications’ and the time reading ‘10:49am’ before sliding it back into your jeans pocket. 

“Hang in there, just about an hour to go before we stop for lunch..” Dean says casting you a dreamy apologetic look.

You settle back in and stare out towards the windshield at the road before ‘baby’, reminiscing about the times that now seem so far from your grasp…

~~~~

The faded sign on the front of the rundown dinner screams ‘food poisoning’, but you know it's no use trying to urge Dean to go elsewhere. You both step out from the car and hear the doors slam shut behind you. Digging down into your purse you grab a cigarette out of its pack and place it between your lips. Dean meets your eye, gesturing he’ll meet you inside and you suck deep inhales of the cigarettes poison nectar; unlocking your phone screen and ensuring you have no missed calls or messages from Sammy. Inside, you motion to Dean, you're running to the bathroom and he casts you an impatient look.

You wash your hands and freshen your appearance before turning and heading back out. 

Dean's face looks pissed, per usual and you apologize under your breath before sitting down across from him. He slides the discolored scratched up plastic menu in front of you, and you flip slowly through its waxy pages. 

“You didn’t get any calls from Sam, did you?” You ask, grazing through the menu.

“No, should I have?” Dean asks with a cold tone.

“No! No, I just wanted to make sure..” You close the menu tapping your fingers impatiently against the confetti resin tabletop. “I just want to make sure Finns alright…” your voice trails off as Dean motions the waitress over to your table.

“...You know what you want right?...” he asks, plucking the menu away and handing them irritably with a huff to the heavy set waitress.

Your eyes grow wide; realizing you hadn’t even considered food yet. 

“What can I get ya..” the large woman asks in a grumpy unpleasant voice.

“I’ll take a double bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries, and what the hell…” Dean says in a quick breath.. “...Extra large Chocolate milkshake.” he adds with a wink to the woman.  

She presses hard against her pad of paper in her hand and tilts her glasses back up on her face before looking over towards you;

“And for the Mrs.?..” 

Yours and Dean's eyes meet for a second before he clears his throat and blushes a bit.

“Oh no, we’re not..” You try to express plainly. “..I’ll just take a house salad..” You say after tripping over your explanation. 

Dean fidgets in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. 

“..Sorry honey, we’re out of iceberg...” The waitress states pushing her glasses up her nose again.

‘Oh, alright…ummm.” You peer over to Dean who flashes you another impatient look. 

“How about the chicken salad?.. On a brochure bun?” you ask hopefully.

“We’ve got bread..” she says scribbling at her pad.

“That's fine.” you add quickly. 

“Wheat, rye, or white?...” She asks.

“Actually, know what… Scratch the chicken salad, can I just get a grilled cheese, white bread, and a side of pickles?” 

The woman irritatedly scratches out the line on her pad and jots the new order down. 

Dean flashes you a look of disappointment and you scrunch your smile upside down a bit.

“Drink?” the lady states coldly.

Dean sighs and palms his face with a sigh. You nod in agreement and look back up at the lady with a big smile.

“...Any chance, you got any spirits?”...

The dinner's speaker system squeaks with local ads as you sit in your chair chomping small loud bites from your pickle. Your second vodka soda sits on the edge of the table near your arm; nearly empty again, as you stare off over Dean's shoulder. He sits back in his seat staring out the window.  One arm hangs beside him while the other is propped up on the back of a metal chair.  You take another tiny bite of your cold cheese sandwich and close your eyes, chewing thoughtfully as you feel your buzz rise in your chest.

“I can’t believe you still eat that crap..” He states with a chuckle.

Interrupting your empty thoughts, you blink your eyes a few times before meeting him.

“Me? What about you, Mr. Two pounds of bacon a day…” You reply, dropping your pickle on your plate and wiping your fingertips. 

“I’m surprised you haven't had a heart attack yet!” 

Dean chuckles a bit again.

“Ah, we’re all gonna die one way, or another…” He says gruffly, taking a gulp from his milkshake.

A taylor swift song comes on over the squeaky speaker and you begin bouncing your head a bit to the beat of the music.  Dean stares at you disapproving and you flash him a slight smirk as you chew with your lips closed. His eyes quickly fall from you back out the window; clearly set on something coming through the dinners front door. You stop your head bobbing and swallow the dry cheese down, with the last sip of your drink and place the cup near the edge of the table, hopeful for one more refill. 

Behind you, the doors chime as you hear the high pitched giggles of customers coming in and walking up to the bar in the front.  You roll your eyes and glare a bit from the side towards the group of presumably jailbait girls seated at the counter. 

Probably skipping school for some ‘pop’, or maybe even ice cream you imagine. 

Dean's eyes are locked on the group of girls; who are squealing with excitement and giggling, while talking to the heavy set woman behind the counter. You look straight ahead towards him shooting him a very disapproving look. His tongue darts out and drags across his bottom lip as he watches them. You grab your cup sitting at the end of the table and swirl the melted ice around a bit slurping at the tiny remnants of anything in the cup. You reach over and poke him in the chest. His gleaming eyes, meeting yours after a long pause. 

“Put your tongue back in your mouth, grandpa..” you tease him, placing the cold plastic cup back down. 

His gaze wavers back between you and the girls sitting precariously on their bar stools. 

“Oh stop, you’re just jealous.” he tells you, still staring intently.

Your hand falls a bit harder than you had anticipated and you clear your throat avoiding Dean's look. 

“Easy there killer, it was just a joke..” he teases watching you fumble a bit to recover.

“You're despicable.” You say with a scowl on your face. “Those are children!” 

You peer back over towards the group; correct they indeed were in getting some ice cold pop… as children would be…  

The large woman's eyes; meet yours and you gesture to the cup again. She rolls her eyes dramatically, not trying to hide it any bit and makes her way over to the table again.  Dean's head snaps up when she intersects his view and he gives you a concerned look of disapproval. 

“You really think you need a third?” he says through his tight lips and glaring eyes.

“What? I’m not driving!” you state plainly with a shrug.  

The lady pours you another vodka soda, spilling half the soda and leaving the rest of the can on the table.

“Oh, um… can you leave the bottle too?” you ask kindly.

She drops the bottle back down on the table and Dean's look is tearing through you as you sip through your little red straw, while adding more of the cheap vodka to your cup.

“I don’t wanna hear it…” You tell him, taking a test sip of your drink.  “You have your flaws…” you add, eyeing the jailbait group of girls at the bar, “..I have mine..” 

A long pause settles between you and Dean as he sits back in his seat trying his best to stop eying the girls. 

“Well..” he says with a long heavy breath. “...At least you’re not a puker..”

“You would know..” you add quickly through eager sips.

Dean's eyes meet yours and you try your best to paint a pleasant face for him. He reaches his hand up behind his head and rubs at the back of his huge broad neck for a long moment before you finally see the smile creeping across his cheeks.  You finish the cup quickly and refill it, picking at Deans fries which are cold now. 

Before long you get up and use the restroom again before meeting Dean back out at the car. The bright hot sunlight burns your eyes as you step out of the dinner. You pluck your oversized shades from your purse and plop them over your face before reaching for the pack of cigarettes. Flipping open the little red box, you’re down to three left.  Eagerly awaiting the disapproval of Dean when you’ll have to ask him to stop for more. 

Dean taps impatiently out his window and you suck at the butts filter harder, trying to fill your craving before hopping back into the car for who knows how long. You settle in and Dean peels back out onto the highway with the radio turned up and the windows down.  You pull back your hair, and strap it in a messy bun on top of your head to keep the wind from whipping it all around. You grab your phone out of your jean pocket again and peer down at the time ‘1:45pm. Soon, Finn would be getting off the bus in front of your house not knowing Uncle Sam would be waiting for him at the front door.

You swipe open the screen and dig through your contacts searching for Sam's info.  You open it, and send a text reminding him what time Finn gets off the bus. Impatiently, you shake your leg waiting for a response. 

“They’ll be fine..” Dean says without having to ask.

“I know…I just..” you don’t finish your sentence as you feel the jump from the phone buzz.

‘Got it.’

“See, quit worrying Y/N..” Dean says in a hushed voice, while peering through the rear view.

You lock your phone and suck in a harsh breath hearing the words he utters. Although you had had plenty of practice keeping your feelings concealed for so long, the time spent apart and certain things that this monster of a man uttered, were now painstakingly hard to swallow.  You set your phone back down on the seat and feel the warm glow of the alcohol radiating in your chest. Your cheeks grow warm and you press them gently trying to extinguish the redness that may be appearing because of it.

With a long exhale you reach down and kick your shoes off before crouching in your seat and tucking your legs up under you. Sitting like a child in the front seat, Dean cranes his neck slowly over to look at you with a glare. 

“I know… you hate it..” you say, getting yourself comfortable. 

“..Old habits die hard…” You add remembering how upset he used to get with you sitting like that in the front seat. 

‘It's not safe, and you’re gonna smell up ‘baby’ like feet!’

Like he had any right to be complaining about your feet, they were roses compared to his and Sammy’s. And safety! Yeah right! Between the countless times he had died, cheated death, been brought to the brink of death and back, was he really anyone to bark orders about safety?

Where was safety during all the times you had been sent into the darkness alone to lure out the waiting monsters? Or how about when you were the only one small enough to squeeze between the live electrical boards at the bunker? What about being outnumbered and ‘voluntold’ you were easier to lift when needing to reach up high, or even better; to be boosted through an abandoned house window, to let the giant lumberjacks through the front door… For two individuals who constantly put themselves in thoughtless danger every day of the year, they sure had an odd way of prioritizing safety…

Safety was in numbers, it was being prepared for the worst and hoping for the best. It was learning hand motions, and code words, for more uses than you'd like to admit would come in handy. Most importantly, it was about knowing when to ask for help when the outcome was less than bleak; a notion you remembered, being thoroughly driven into your brain; while still absent from theirs, even after all these years…

Tags: @nancymcl @123passwort

Slowly, Sam crept into the guardhouse, keeping his gun drawn. You held your breath.

“You’re out of your depth with this one,” he finally said, and suddenly his light shone directly in your eyes.

You huffed and held up your free hand to block the light, squinting at him in irritation. “And you’re still a jerk. Nice to see you too, Sam.”

“Get down from there and go home. I’ve already done all the research and I can easily handle this on my own.”

“Oh yeah?” You carefully lowered yourself down from the cabinets and pulled your own gun from the holster strapped to your thigh. You’d stopped tucking it into your jeans a long time ago, opting instead for a more practical option when the chances of running into someone were slim. “Then how come that David said there were no hunters in the area?”

Sam made a face. “Who the hell is David?”

Rolling your eyes, you stomped past him, fully ignoring the gun he kept trained on you. The security guard’s desk would only be unattended for another five minutes. You’d been in the middle of searching for the disc that contained the antiquated security system’s footage from the past two weeks when Sam had interrupted you.

"What are you doing?” he questioned, coming closer to watch over your shoulder.

“Your mom,” you snarked back. 

The disc was shoved in a drawer underneath a short stack of file folders and a notebook with yellowed pages. You pulled it out and turned your flashlight on to inspect the label on the front just to be sure you’d found the right thing, but Sam snatched it out of your hand before you could get a good look.

“Hey!” You grabbed at it, but he held it out of your reach as he read the front himself. “Sam Winchester, this is my hunt! I have been here for over a week now and if you don’t stop interfering, I will call the police on you!”

He only grinned and tucked the DVD into the inside pocket of his jacket. His gun had also been tucked away, leaving him with just the maglight in hand as he looked you over.

“We both know that never ends well. How many times have you tried that one? Three? Four?”

You kept your own gun out and narrowed your eyes at him. “Go. Home.”

“No.”

The sound of footsteps approaching the front doors made you both freeze, and you hurried to switch off your flashlights and escape. When the door swung open only a few moments later, you ducked behind the table. Sam was already crouching behind it and he pushed you into view as he crawled underneath the vinyl tablecloth to hide. Though the guard had yet to turn on the overhead lights, the smug look on Sam’s face was clear as he disappeared from your sight. 

Quickly, you unclipped your holster and shoved both it and your gun inside one of the lower cabinets. They weren’t hidden well, but you could only hope that no one would spot it before you could get back to retrieve them. You barely had time to shoot Sam a look of utter loathing before the lights came on and the guard spotted you.

“Hey, you can’t be in here,” he said, heading right for you. 

It took everything in you not to reveal Sam’s presence as the guard cuffed you and marched you over to his desk so he could phone the police. Logically, you knew that one hunter on the case was better than two of them locked up for trespassing, even if it was Sam Winchester. 

Three hours later, the officer who’d collected you from the marina and brought you down to the station stepped into the holding cell area and unlocked the door. You looked up, a little surprised that David had even answered the phone associated with your alias. He wasn’t always the most reliable backup.

“You’re free to go, ma’am. I’m so sorry for the mixup,” the officer said, giving you a tight smile.

You stood from the bench and stretched a little, popping your back as the man held the cell door open for you. He led you out into the main part of the station, but you slowed your pace as you neared his desk.

Sam sat opposite the officer’s chair, his hands cuffed to a metal loop on the desk in front of him. When he saw the officer had returned, he turned his head to meet your eyes, his expression unreadable.

“Can I ask if you were able to get ahold of my supervisor?” you asked, closing the distance between you and the two men.

The officer pulled your bag of personal items from the bottom drawer of the desk and started removing the items from the clear plastic. He checked each of them off on your intake form as he worked, not bothering to look up as he replied.

“No, but we found this man impersonating a federal agent and interrogating local employees. When we contacted the man he claimed to be his supervisor, we realized that you were the real deal and this guy’s the fake,” he explained.

Raising an eyebrow, you glanced over at Sam, who was slouching further and further in his chair as the officer spoke.

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

This time the man looked up at you. He held out your flashlight, badge, wallet, and phone, which you accepted gratefully. A quick glance at the screen told you that you had three missed calls and a voicemail from David, no doubt chewing you out for getting arrested.

“His “supervisor” wasn’t his supervisor at all. The guy does work for the Bureau, though, because he confirmed your role in the case.” He glanced back down at the forms, then slid the paper towards you and held out a pen. “That should be everything. You just need to sign at the bottom saying that we’ve returned all your personal items. I’m sure the Bureau will be happy to clear up any paperwork regarding tonight?”

You nodded and leaned forward to scribble your alias’ signature on the bottom line, ignoring Sam’s glare. As you signed, you tried not to let your immense satisfaction that Bobby had vouched for you and not Sam show.

“I’m glad we could clear all this up,” you said. “Although…” Sam tensed as you paused and finally looked back at him, then at the officer. “This man isn’t impersonating a federal agent.”

“That’s not what your higher-ups said,” replied the officer. He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding you with a suspicious expression. “Are you saying that he’s lying to me?”

Shaking your head, you tucked your badge and wallet back into the pockets of your jeans. “No, sir. I’m saying that he doesn’t know everything regarding this case. Like I told you when I first came in, I’ve been tracing a trail of murders across several states. The scope of this thing is huge and we’ve got hundreds of cases under investigation right now. This man is an undercover agent, one specifically chosen by me to help with my work, so I’m going to ask that you release him from custody. You’ve already risked blowing his cover by arresting him. I’m happy to take care of any paperwork on his behalf.”

After a few moments of consideration, the man sighed and shook his head, muttering to himself. He reached down into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a second bag. This one held more items than yours, including Sam’s gun and several knives he’d had hidden on his person that you hadn’t been able to see before. You made a mental note of each one as the officer pulled them from the bag and checked them off on the paperwork he’d clearly been in the middle of filling out when he’d gone to release you from the holding cell. You also noticed that the disc with the security footage wasn’t among the items in the bag, which meant you’d have to ask Sam to give it back to you. Irritation grew in the center of your chest and you cleared your throat, pressing your lips together to keep yourself from saying something that would blow your cover.

While he worked, Sam stared at you in silence. You could feel his gaze focused on you as you supervised the officer going through Sam’s belongings, and he continued to stare at you while you filled out the papers regarding his release. Finally, the officer went around the desk and uncuffed him, then handed him the pen to sign off that he’d received all his personal items.

You stood beside Sam in silence as he collected his things, then stayed by his side as the two of you walked through the station and out into the parking lot. Your motel was only a few blocks down the street, and you had no doubt that Sam was most likely staying there too.

“Why did you do that?” he finally asked as you turned out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“Do you want me to go back and tell him I was lying?” you asked, not looking over at him. “Because then we’ll both be in even more trouble, and I don’t really want that.”

Sam sighed. “Y/N—”

“Don’t. Just go home and let me do my job.”

“This is my job too, you know.”

This time you did look over at him, but only for a second. “I didn’t get you out of there so you could help me, Sam. I got you out because I’m sure there are other people who need help. I’ve got this covered, and if you had only listened to me in the first place—”

“I was here first, so if anyone’s leaving, it should be—”

“Will you just stop?” you shouted. You stopped and turned to face him. He seemed startled by your outburst, but you didn’t let his unusual show of surprise faze you. “It’s very clear that neither one of us likes the other, and it’s even more clear that we can’t work together. I did you a huge favor sticking my neck out back there for you.” You pointed back down the street towards the station. “So for once in your life, can you just let someone else be in charge? Just give me the disc, go home, stay out of my life! Can you handle that, Sam? Or is that too hard for you?”

He stared at you, lips pressed together, and you crossed your arms over your chest. When he didn’t reply after a moment more, you turned and started walking again, leaving him standing with his back to the street. 

“Fine,” Sam said, calling out to you as you kept walking. “But next time, don’t expect me to help you.”

You scoffed but you didn’t say anything. You knew that deep down Sam had to be a good person—bad people didn’t willingly sacrifice everything good in life—but something about him made you want to bang your head against the wall. There are many things that you wanted in life as a hunter, but getting away from him was at the top of the list. If letting him think that he had the upper hand here would get him to leave, then you’d let the argument fade. There were more important things to worry about.

Thank you for reading! <3

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You swallowed thickly, still staring up at the ceiling as you fidgeted in place. "Um, I was hoping that maybe it was a closet. I needed another trash bag."

"Try the kitchen next time." The man pushed past you and headed in that direction, leaving you to follow him in humiliated silence. He opened the cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out a box of trash bags, then tossed it to you. You caught it after fumbling for a second.

"Thanks," you said, and he turned his back on you to press a few buttons on an expensive-looking coffee maker.

No wonder none of the other junior editors wanted this job, you thought as you went back to picking up trash from around the room. This guy's a jerk, too.

"So you do what for Cas? Clean?"

You looked up, startled. "Who, me?"

The man rolled his eyes and opened the fridge. "No, I was talking to my dog."

Even though sarcasm dripped from his words, the questions slipped from your mouth before you could think twice. "You have a dog?"

"Sadie!" he shouted, and you flinched. He whistled sharply, ignoring you, and a few moments later, a large retriever trotted into the living room to join him in the kitchen. She didn't give you a second glance either. She was too focused on her owner and she practically vibrated with excitement as he pulled out a container of something in the fridge and set it on the floor for her. She attacked it with gusto, lapping up the contents as her tail wagged a mile a minute. He scratched the top of her head before going over to another cabinet and pulling out a mug.

"You're not supposed to feed dogs takeout, you know," you told him, and you winced when the man fixed a scathing glare on you.

Slowly, he set the mug down on the counter. He held your gaze as he spoke, "I make all of Sadie's food from scratch. Just because I eat takeout doesn't mean my dog does."

"Right," you muttered, looking away. You fidgeted with the edge of the trash bag for a second before going back to cleaning up the room.

"You never answered my question."

Looking up again, you met the man's eyes and hoped desperately that you could keep yourself from staring at his still mostly-naked body. He'd moved to stand between the couch and the coffee table, leaving you with no way of getting around him to keep cleaning or to leave. You were trapped.

"I'm a junior editor," you mumbled. "I work under Mr. Novak, but I worked for one of his siblings in Los Angeles before I moved here."

The man let out a disinterested noise before reaching out and snatching the trash bag from your hand before you could protest. "Right. Well, you can leave and tell Cas that I don't need a wellness check or whatever he told you this was. I'm fine and he'll get his draft when it's done, just like I told him the last time we talked, the time before that, and the time before that."

You crossed your arms over your chest and watched as he tossed the half-full bag of trash next to the full bag you'd placed by the door. Sadie had finished eating whatever he'd given her and was now investigating your bag on the edge of the table, her tail wagging happily.

"You don't have to be so rude, you know. I'm just doing my job. Not all of us can lay around in a pigsty in our underwear, pretending that we're working when we're really not," you snapped.

The words came out before you could stop them and embarrassed tears filled your eyes when the man hounded on you with one eyebrow raised and a tone sharper than any sword.

"What did you say to me?"

You shook your head, swallowing hard. "I'm— I’m so sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'll let Mr. Novak know you're almost done with the draft."

"I don't just sit around all day," the man said, his dark eyes focused on you. It hadn't dawned on you until just this moment how tall and imposing this man was, and you swallowed nervously as he stepped closer. "You and all the other junior editors Cas sends come in here and act like you're so much better than me because you have your little office jobs, but I'm the one with a successful career.” He jabbed a finger at the floor, then at you. “I'm the one who owns this apartment, and I'm the one keeping you employed."

"Maybe," you said. An ounce of courage had wiggled its way into your system and you clung to it desperately. Marching over to the door, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. "But at least I'm nice, and know when my words have done their damage."

You opened the door and left without waiting to hear his response. As soon as you got back to Holst, you were telling Mr. Novak not to send you to any of his clients' houses ever again. One disastrous, humiliating morning was more than enough.

_______________

"Where have you been?" Charlie hissed as you slowly sank into your seat. "You've been gone for hours!"

You dumped your bag on the floor next to your desk and exhaled slowly, shaking your head. She took in the look on your face, then winced.

"Didn't you say that Novak was sending you out on some kind of wellness check or something?" she asked, and you nodded. "It was Sam Winchester, wasn't it?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I forgot to write down the name, but—"

"Super tall, shaggy hair, and an attitude bigger than the Empire State?" You nodded again and Charlie gave you a pitying look. "Oh, Y/N. He's the worst. You're lucky he didn't throw anything at you." She paused. "He didn't throw anything at you, did he?"

You shook your head, feeling another wave of tears coming on. It wasn't enough that you'd wasted half a tank of gas just driving around and crying before you came back to the office, apparently. 

"No," you told her. "But I said something I shouldn't and he wasn't happy. I'm pretty sure today's gonna be my last day."

"Y/N, it's not gonna be your last day. Mr. Novak is—"

"Mr. Novak would like to see Y/N in his office."

You and Charlie both jumped, and you quickly turned your chair to face the entrance to your cubicle. Mr. Novak himself was standing there, waiting for you. Swallowing thickly, you glanced at your friend and then got to your feet.

"Of course," you replied, trying to look and sound as professional as possible, but your voice was tight with tears and you were sure that it showed on your face.

Mr. Novak's expression was unreadable, and after a brief glance at Charlie, he turned and headed back towards his spacious corner office. You followed a few feet behind, feeling more and more ashamed as each of your co-workers stood from their seat or stopped in their tracks to watch you. The only thing you could think of was how it felt for prisoners when they walked to the scene their death penalty, only to have a crowd waiting to watch their life end. Did it feel like this?

"Please, close the door behind you and have a seat," Mr. Novak said. He moved ahead to the counter lining one wall of his office. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee, water, tea?"

You shook your head and cleared your throat as you slowly sank into the chair across his desk. It seemed like forever until he was finally sitting across from you and setting a steaming mug of coffee on a coaster beside his laptop.

“How was your visit with Mr. Winchester, Y/N?” he asked.

Swallowing thickly, you steadied yourself before slowly replying, “I wasn’t able to complete everything on the list you gave me. I’m sorry, Mr. Novak.”

He raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t say anymore. Silently, Mr. Novak turned to his computer and typed in his password, then clicked a few times before he turned it to face you. His email was pulled up, and after glancing at him for his approval, you read the email he’d pulled up on the screen.

Cas, it began. Stop sending your new employees to check up on me. The last girl you sent was rude, and Sadie’s been on edge ever since she shouted and left. She should be fired for acting like she did, and if you keep doing things like this, you’re never going to get the first draft.

“I can explain—”

Mr. Novak held up his hand and you let yourself fall silent. “Y/N… I’m sure whatever happened, Sam deserved it, but next time, please at least text me so I know what’s going on before I get emails like this.”

“What?” you asked, honestly shocked that you weren’t being fired on the spot.

He’s not angry?

“I don’t care if you yell at Sam. Quite frankly, he probably needs more people to yell at him. What upsets me is the fact that you didn’t text me to let me know what happened and then you disappeared for several hours before you came back to the office. That’s not exactly professional.”

You peered at him, unsure of what you were supposed to do with the new information he’d just given. You were… allowed to yell at one of the company’s top clients?

“I’m— I’m sorry, Mr. Novak, but… you’re not angry that I yelled at Mr. Winchester?”

A rare smile grew on your boss’ face, leaving you even more bewildered as he picked up his mug to take a sip. He lingered with the mug to his lips and you stared at him, then at the email. 

“No. In fact, I’d like to encourage more of it. Clearly, he responds to you. This is the first time I’ve heard from him in weeks, and you’re the third staff member I’ve sent. Starting tomorrow, you’re Sam Winchester’s personal assistant. Anything he needs, you’re in charge of. You need to be at his apartment at eight sharp tomorrow morning, and if he tries to kick you out, call me immediately and put it on speaker,” Mr. Novak told you. He reached down and opened a drawer in his desk, then pulled out a white envelope and slid it across to you. “Here’s a key to his apartment. Don’t lose it.”

You were still shell-shocked as you nodded and took the envelope, holding it with both hands.

“You’re free to go back to your desk now. Thank you for your time today, Y/N,” Mr. Novak said, and you dumbly nodded again. You were halfway to the door when he called your name and you turned to face him. “Any writing he gets done, you’re the first read-through. If you think it’s trash, it probably is. I don’t want anything coming to my desk unless it’s got your stamp of approval. I trust you.”

That was enough to make your heart rate spike, and you nodded for the third time before hurrying to the bathroom and locking yourself in the last stall. 

This can’t be real, you thought as you sat down on the toilet seat and clutched the envelope with both hands. I’m being punked. Mr. Novak really wouldn’t assign me to be Sam Winchester’s personal assistant, would he? Can he even do that? I’m a junior editor! I should be reading manuscripts, not picking up dry cleaning and watching his dog! Although, he did say that I could read through the chapters before they get sent to—

“Y/N? Are you in here?” The bathroom door slammed shut and you peeked down underneath the stall door to ensure that the voice you’d heard was really Charlie’s. Sure enough, her bright blue Crocs were like beacons from across the drab bathroom floor.

“I’m here,” you answered after a second, and after a few more, you stood and opened the door, stepping out.

“You ran in here pretty fast,” Charlie said. She gave you a once over, looking for signs of distress. “Everything okay?”

Hesitating, you nodded and frowned. “Yes? I’m not sure. I’m— Mr. Novak gave me a new assignment.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up and she stepped further into the bathroom. “A new assignment? But what about what happened with Sam Winchester? Did he say anything?”

“That’s just it! He assigned me to Sam Winchester! He made his personal assistant, Charlie! What the heck am I supposed to do now?”

“He what?”

You shook your head, completely at a loss. “I don’t know, Charlie! He wasn’t even mad that I yelled at him!”

“Wait, you yelled at Sam Winchester?” Charlie squeaked.

The only response you could give her was a helpless shrug and a stammered justification. You couldn’t believe you’d done it either, but even more so, you couldn’t believe your boss’ response to the whole incident.

“Hey,” Charlie soothed, placing her hand on your arm. You met her eyes and the reassurance in them was a small comfort. “It’ll be okay. Maybe after a while he’s not as awful as he is the first time you meet him.”

You let out a soft laugh and gave her a half-assed smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“You wanna go get something to eat? Greasy pizza from the food truck?”

“That sounds like heaven. I should take this back to my desk first, though,” you said. You held up the white envelope Mr. Novak had given you and shook it for good measure. “It’s the key to his apartment. If I lose this, I’m even more screwed.”

Charlie gave you a sympathetic smile and squeezed your arm, then dropped it back to her side. “I’ll meet you outside, ‘kay?”

You nodded, and the two of you left the bathroom together before heading your opposite ways.

The next morning when you knocked on Mr. Winchester’s door, there was no response. Sighing, you unlocked it and stepped inside. The apartment was cleaner than the day before and the dead plants were gone, and you were secretly thankful that you wouldn’t spend the first part of your morning cleaning up someone else’s trash.

Sadie lifted her head from her spot on a dog bed near the window, and you froze only a few steps into the apartment as she bared her teeth and her hackles raised in warning. She let out a sharp bark and scrambled to her feet. Someone, presumably Sam, moved around in another room and something fell to the floor, but the golden retriever quickly advanced toward you, unphased.

“Hi Sadie girl,” you cooed. “It’s okay, I’m not here to yell at you! I just need to see your owner! It’s okay, it’s okay, pretty girl.”

The dog ignored your pitiful attempts to soothe her and growled. Frantic, you dug your phone out of your pocket and quickly dialed Mr. Novak. He answered on the first ring.

“Good morning, Y/N. Is there a problem already?” he asked.

“The dog! How do I get Sadie to stop barking at me?” You backed up towards the door as Sadie got even closer. She crouched low to the ground with her teeth bared and your hand was trembling as you glanced at the dark hallway off to your left. Where was Sam?

“I see. Is Sam there?”

“I don’t know, maybe! I can’t get past Sadie to go find out!”

Mr. Novak replied, but Sadie’s barking and the sound of Sam’s angry footsteps coming down the hall drowned him out. A sharp whistle pierced your eyes and then suddenly, Sadie was retreating to her owner’s side.

Sam was dressed this time, complete with a look that could kill. He glared at you from the hallway and gestured with one hand. Sadie obediently sat down beside him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he sharply asked. “I thought I told Cas to fire you.”

“About that,” you answered, swallowing thickly as you pulled the phone from your ear and put the call on speaker. “Mr. Novak?”

The line was silent for a second and you glanced up at Sam, terrified that he’d start to yell before your boss spoke up. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Mr. Novak began talking. You held the phone in a death grip the entire time.

“So you’re supposed to do what? Pick up after me, do my laundry, and hope desperately that I let you read my writing?” Sam asked after you’d ended the call and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

Shrugging slightly, you closed the front door behind you and gripped the strap of your work bag. “I wasn’t really expecting I’d become a personal assistant when I was hired as a junior editor. I figured there’d be more…”

“Editing?” he deadpanned.

You nodded.

“Sounds like you should be complaining to Cas about that, not me.” Sam turned to look at his kitchen, his lips pressed together. He stayed silent for a long few moments before finally turning his attention to the dog at his feet.

“You hungry, Sades?” Her tail started wagging immediately and Sam chuckled. “Free!”

Like a shot, Sadie sprinted across the apartment and into the kitchen. Her owner followed her at a much more relaxed pace, and a smile spread across his face as he pulled a container of food out of the fridge and set it at his feet for her. She gobbled it up eagerly while he watched on.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” you finally asked, feeling like you were intruding upon an intimate moment, even though it was just a man feeding his dog. Billions of other people did the same thing every day.

Get a grip, Y/N, you chastised yourself. Grow a pair and act like an adult. This is your job and if you ever want to become an editor, you need to get through this.

You cleared your throat, then waited until Sam looked over at you. “What do you want me to do for you today, Mr. Winchester?” you asked, lifting your chin slightly.

He stared at you. “You’re not gonna go back and complain to Cas about not being able to edit? You’re serious about being my assistant?”

“As a heart attack,” you replied.

“If you’re really going to go through with this,” Sam said as he grabbed the empty pot from his coffee maker, “then you can start by going through all of that.” He gestured with the pot towards the darkest corner of the living room, where two large bins overflowing with envelopes of all shapes, colors, and sizes had been haphazardly stacked on top of one another.

Nodding, you set your bag down on the same table as the day before, then situated yourself on the floor beside the bins. The envelopes were fanmail of all kinds and you began to pull them from the bin on top, read them, and sort them.

He gets some strange stuff from fans, you thought as you refolded the second letter and placed it off to the side, making sure to keep the frizzy lock of hair carefully tucked inside. No wonder he doesn’t do this himself.

By the time you’d finished the first bin of letters, several hours had passed. Sadie had curled up to sleep beside you and Sam had disappeared. You stood and stretched. Your stomach had started to rumble while you were opening the last few pieces of mail, so you headed down the hall to see if your new boss wanted anything for lunch. At least if you could pick up his food while you were out getting yours, there would be one less thing for him to get snippy over.

Sam was sitting at the desk that faced the office window. Judging by the empty glass mug and plate sitting beside him, he’d been there for quite awhile, too. At some point, he’d changed out of his pajamas and into jeans and a flannel, and he looked more like someone you’d see cutting down Christmas trees in a tiny Hallmark town rather than a bestselling author.

Not that I’m complaining about how broad his shoulders look from behind.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Slowly, he turned his chair and looked up from the tablet he’d been writing on, his fingers still half-poised over the detached keyboard. He blinked a few times, as if he was trying to focus on something other than the screen for the first time since sitting down.

“Do you want something for lunch? I was going to get something from the little shop down the street—”

“You can call me Sam, you know,” he interrupted, and you froze with your mouth hanging open. “What?”

“Nothing,” you quickly replied. You shook your head and forced a weak smile. “Nothing. Do you want lunch?”

Sam shook his head, squinting at you. “No. Why are you so shocked that I want you to call me by my name? I call you by your name, so you should call me by mine.”

“You haven’t actually… called me anything.”

“I haven’t?” he asked. You shook your head again. Sam hummed thoughtfully, and you were just about to turn and leave when he got to his feet and said, “I’ll come with you to the shop. I could use a break.”

Surprised, you replied, “Really? You want to come with me?”

He laughed and nodded, then grabbed his phone from the charger and slipped it into his pocket. You stared at him until he gestured towards the door behind you. Quickly, you turned on your heel and headed back into the living room. Sadie came bounding over when Sam let out a sharp whistle, and you flinched at the noise.

“Sorry,” he said, and for a second you thought you should call Mr. Novak and ask if you sounded sick to him, because Sam’s sudden change in attitude towards you was making your head spin.

Sam clipped a leash onto Sadie’s matching collar and then pocketed his keys. You felt his eyes on you as you sat on the edge of the couch to slip your shoes back on, and when you stood, he gave you a small smile.

“Ready?”

You nodded.

“Do you mind walking to the park with me so Sadie can run around? There’s an area where I can let her off leash and she’s been cooped up since yesterday afternoon…” Sam trailed off as the dog began to wiggle on her leash. He looked down at her and his smile turned fond. “Yes, I know, you want to go outside right away. One second, Sadie.”

“That’s fine,” you told him, still a bit on edge over his strange behavior. You grabbed your bag and checked the charge on your phone before nodding again. “Let’s go.”

After taking the elevator down to the lobby, you walked down the street to the shop you’d seen on your way out of Sam’s apartment yesterday. Neither of you spoke, and Sadie pulled the whole way, but you didn’t mind the silence or the brisk pace. The shop workers were happy to see Sam and you watched with muted surprise at how kind he was being to everyone he came across.

Maybe he was just mean to me because he hadn’t had his coffee yet?

As you, Sam, and Sadie walked to the park even further down the street, you ate your food and tried to come up with as many reasons as possible for Sam’s behavior the first two times you interacted. Finally, you couldn’t take the mystery any longer.

“You know,” you said, after finishing your sandwich and balling up the paper wrapper, “for a while, I thought you were this… cranky, reclusive writer, but you’re actually a really nice guy.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Sam replied. 

You glanced at him, frowning slightly. “You were really rude to me earlier today, and yesterday too! Don’t act so surprised.”

“You broke into my apartment, freaked out my dog, and then insulted me,” he scoffed. “Why would I be nice to you after all that?”

Looking forward again, you fidgeted with the wrapper and watched Sadie as she stopped to sniff an overflowing trash can. Sam kept walking.

“Oh. I really am sorry about that,” you finally said. “I just… figured that you would’ve known I was coming. I guess I should’ve guessed that you didn’t, since Mr. Novak said that he hadn’t been able to get ahold of you.”

Sam didn’t answer right away, and you were nearing the park. Spotting a trash can that didn’t look too full, you stepped off the path to throw away your wrapper, and when you turned back around, he and Sadie were already inside the fenced-in dog park a few yards away. You watched for a moment as he reached down to pet her, then unclipped the leash so she could run off and play with the other dogs. He turned and met your gaze, raised an eyebrow, and then pointed towards the gate off to his right.

Your face felt warm—and not from the sun—as you nodded and made your way over to the gate. He watched you the whole time. You’d put your foot in your mouth with the comment about his earlier behavior, and now you were going to have to figure out how to fix things.

Everything was just starting to look up, too, you thought as you opened up the gate and stuck your leg out to keep someone’s dog from escaping. They gave you a grateful smile, which you returned before making your way over to where Sam was standing in the corner of the park.

“I should apologize for how I acted, too,” he said once you were closer. “I was rude to you even after you’d explained who you were and why you were in my apartment. It’s not the first time Cas has sent someone to check on me, so it’s not like someone from the company showing up at my place was completely unexpected. I should’ve figured he’d resort to it eventually, considering I was ignoring his emails, texts, and calls.”

Eyes on Sadie, you smiled a little. “He’s a persistent man. I’m excited to work with him. I mean, eventually,” you added. “I’ll have to work my way up to that.”

“You want to edit?” Sam asked, and you nodded. “When we get back to the apartment, I’ve got a chapter for you to look over. Cas said that you get the first read-through, right?”

You nodded again and looked over at him. “Is that your way of asking for a truce?”

He smiled a little. “Well, Sadie likes you.”

“And?”

“I don’t think you’re that bad, either,” he replied, grinning a little more.

You laughed, and the two of you spent the rest of the time at the dog park chatting about Sadie, your move to the city, and Mr. Novak. Apparently, he and Sam had gone to college together. Sam had plenty of stories that kept you laughing the whole time at the park and even on the walk back. By the time you reached the apartment, your sides and cheeks ached from laughing and smiling so hard. A part of you could barely remember what it felt like to be upset that you had to be Sam’s personal assistant.

If every day is like this, maybe doing things around Sam’s apartment while I wait for new chapters won’t be that bad, you thought as you plopped yourself down on his couch.

Sadie, her mouth dripping water from the bowl on the kitchen floor, trotted over and hopped up onto the cushion next to you. You smiled and gave her a few short pets before letting her settle down with her head pressed against your thigh.

“Hey, girl,” you murmured. “You comfy?” She looked up at you without lifting her head and you chuckled, then ran your hand over her soft fur again. “Yeah, you’re all tuckered out from running around with your friends.”

“She’ll be full of energy again in a few hours,” Sam said, and you smiled up at him. He held out a stack of paper and you took it, looking over the first page. “That’s the second chapter.”

“Where’s the first?”

“It’s not done yet. I had to go back and change some things after I finished Chapter Two.” You frowned and Sam shrugged. “It’s not a perfect process. It’s almost done, I’ll bring it out when it is. Three is almost done, too.”

Nodding, you pulled your hand away from Sadie and unclipped the binder clip at the top of the pages. You set it aside and grabbed a pen from the nearby side table, then settled in for what promised to be a wonderful read.

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Jade returns the next morning as promised, this time with several of your other handmaidens and a dress you don’t recognize. It’s the same color as the dress you wore for your last royal portrait, but it’s decorated much plainer than everything Jade had discussed for your first meeting with your husband-to-be. When she hangs it on a rod, you get a better look and it’s apparent that it’s been made for someone of status. The stitching is tiny and even, and the thread glitters when morning sun hits it. A thin vine of leaves borders the fabric down the front, and the front panel matches the thread. The sleeves hang down a little longer than you prefer, which immediately tells you it’s not something the royal dressmakers have made for you.

You frown as you climb out of bed and stretch. “What’s that?” you ask, yawning and heading to your table. “It’s not mine.”

Your morning tonic of herbs is already ready and you whisper the enchantment over them before swallowing the murky liquid in two gulps. It’s more bitter than normal and you grimace.

Perhaps the land knows that I’m leaving.

“A gift from your betrothed, Your Highness,” replies one of the maidens. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Does he expect me to dress to please him?” you scoff.

“No, but he’s waiting with the King in the throne room, so I would suggest you save the rebellion for a time when His Majesty can’t scold you for it,” Jade answer.

You stop in your tracks, already halfway to the trunk where most of your dresses have been packed.

“What did you say?” you ask.

Jade raises an eyebrow at you. “Your betrothed is downstairs, Y/N. He’s here to collect you.”

“To collect me? I thought I was traveling to Lawrence alone.”

The handmaidens busy themselves preparing the dress and the rest of the things you’ll need to get ready while Jade crosses the room and gathers up your hands, her eyes shining with excitement.

“He came,” she says, her voice soft but earnest. “I overheard one of the guards saying that he’s here because he didn’t wish for you to be alone for the journey after having to leave your home. He sounds kind, Y/N.”

You shake your head, confused. “Why would he do that? He has a kingdom to watch over and he left it all just to ride back with me in a carriage? That’s not kindness, Jade, that’s foolishness!”

“Maybe he wished to see your beauty in person and he couldn’t wait for you to arrive at his castle,” Jade teases. She’s trying to get you to focus on something else so that she can get you ready on time, but you only frown deeper at her.

“Jade…”

“Y/N, you shouldn’t pass judgements before you’ve met him,” she chides. “Maybe he has a very trusted advisor watching over Lawrence for him, or maybe he brought his swiftest horses to speed the journey.”

You hesitate, but after a moment you can’t help but relent. Jade has wisdom beyond her years and you trust her more than any other. If she says that the King of Lawrence is a kind man, then he probably is.

“Okay. Do I have time to bathe first?”

Jade nods and squeezes your hands before dropping them. “Of course. We’ll go draw the bath for you.”

An hour later you descend the stairs with Jade on your heels, helping with the train on the dress so you don’t trip. It’s longer than you’re used to, just like the sleeves, but you can only assume it’s the preferred fashion in Lawrence.

As you approach the doors to your father’s throne room, you slow and glance back at your friend. Jade nods and offers you an encouraging smile, which you gratefully return before looking forward again and resuming your pace. The guards pull open the tall, heavy doors as you near. Inside, you can see your father standing at the foot of the dais. A plainly-dressed man stands beside him. He’s towering over your father and you would have mistaken him for a foreigner seeking refuge or even a plain-cloaked castle guard were it not for the simple golden circlet on his head

“Good morning, Father,” you greet as you enter the room.

Both men turn to look at you. Your father smiles warmly and opens his arms for you, but the other man stands still. He watches you carefully, his face expressionless as you walk closer. You notice that his clothes are just as richly made as the dress he’s sent for you, though they’re a peasant’s style and lack the rich colors of the clothes most royals wear. 

Why is he dressed so strangely for our first meeting? Is this a trick?

“My daughter,” your father says. He pulls you into his arms and kisses your cheek, squeezing your waist once before letting go. “My daughter, this is your betrothed, King Samuel of Lawrence.”

You dip into a curtsy and Samuel gives you a respectful bow of his own.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Sam,” he says.

A shiver goes up your spine at the deep sound of his voice. It’s warm like honey or the soft white wax of a melting candle, but there’s an edge to it, like he knows the power he holds and exactly what it can do. 

“Sam,” you greet, offering him a small, nervous smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t expect to meet you until I was at your home.”

Sam returns the smile, his face dimpling slightly in an almost boyish way. “I didn’t want you to have to make the carriage ride alone. It’s a long journey, and I know how much thinking can occur when one is alone, especially on occasions such as these.”

“Such as these?” you repeat.

“Change,” Sam simply replies.

You regard him carefully, knowing that what you say and do next will affect the rest of your life. Sam is hard to pinpoint. He has a regal air about him, but his clothes suggest otherwise. Even the circlet he wears is simple. His voice is kind, but dangerous, and his language is sophisticated, but speaks volumes about the parts of the mind that can’t be educated. He seems kind and honest, just as Jade had suggested in your chambers, but you can’t help but wonder how a man can be so many contradicting things all at once.

“Y/N’s trunks are being loaded onto the carriages as we speak, but you and I have some more business to attend to before you can depart,” your father says, tearing both yours and Sam’s attention away from each other. “We still need to discuss the matter of my daughter returning home should she be unable to bear you an heir.”

Your throat constricts at the thought of having children already. You feel too young and too unprepared for that, and you can’t imagine doing anything that intimate with a man you’ve only just met. You swallow hard, looking down at the floor as you wait with bated breath for Sam’s reply.

“I’m not concerned about that matter. I have no doubt that our marriage will be fruitful in many ways. Y/N will thrive in Lawrence. I don’t anticipate anything that would require her to return to Aldrinia. My home shall be her home from now on. All her needs shall be met and she shall never need to return here ever again,” Sam says.

You close your eyes. You will never return? Not ever? The room is silent as your father takes in Sam’s words.

Finally, he replies, “Very well. Y/N’s home shall forevermore be Lawrence.”

Reaching up, you press a hand to your mouth to hold back a sob. You lift your head and met Sam’s eyes, unable to hide the hurt and betrayal you feel, even though you know better than to voice it.

“I believe my things should be loaded by now,” you force out, and Sam nods slowly in reply, his face filled with concern.

“I… will leave you to say goodbye, then. Your handmaiden can lead you to the carriages.”

Sam leaves the throne room in silence and Jade follows him, moving to wait by the door to give you and your father privacy. 

“My dear girl…”

“Please don’t make me do this,” you whisper, not looking at him. “I know that I agreed to this, but I’m never to return, Father? You wish me to turn my back on Aldrinia?”

Your father reaches out and takes your hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You are not turning your back on our people, dear one. You are doing what’s best for them. Marrying Samuel will forge an alliance so strong that it will protect our people for centuries to come. You have fulfilled your duty as the princess here. Your new duty is to be the best wife and queen you can be to the king and the people of Lawrence. That is how you will help Aldrinia prosper.”

With nothing more to say, you nod and try to ignore the sting in your eyes and the way your tears make the throne room hazy. This room was once your playroom, and you’d spent many summer afternoons hiding away from the scorching heat here. This is where your nursemaids had helped you practice the ancient arts, and it’s where you’d first been introduced to Jade and her people when they’d come to Aldrinia in search of refuge from a raging tyrant.

“I love you, Y/N, and I am proud of the queen you will be for Lawrence. Aldrinia will always be your home in your heart. Make us proud.”

“Yes, Father,” you murmur. He squeezes your hands, then pulls you in for a firm hug. You hold on tightly, closing your eyes, and when you pull away, you quickly wipe away the tears that slipped down your cheeks.

Jade is waiting patiently for you near the doors of the throne room, and as you approach, she gives you a sympathetic smile. You return it with a wavering smile of your own. You can’t look a her to long—if you do, you’ll cry—so you focus your eyes on the floor as the guards open the door and she moves behind you to gather up your train once more.

The two of you walk the long stone halls of your childhood home, and with each step, the ache in your chest and the pit in your stomach grows. You remain silent, as does she. Finally, you step out into the cold sunshine. It’s unusually cloudy, which only strengthens your belief that the land suspects your imminent departure. Sam is already inside the carriage and the door stands open for you.

“Jade?” you murmur, turning your head slightly. You stop at the top of the steps leading from the castle’s grand entrance, frozen in place.

Jade moves to be at your side. She slips her hand into yours and squeezes. “This will be good, Y/N,” she whispers. “He seems kind and you will be safe. I’ve heard that Lawrence is beautiful, and King Winchester is wealthy. You’ll want for nothing.”

“But you will not be there, and the lands…”

She doesn’t have a reply, but she squeezes your hand again. “I know. We will all miss you, but the priestesses will continue the blessings in your absence, and we have already packed enough of your herbs to last you several weeks. They have been carefully dried to last that long. There is a special case at the top of your largest trunk. It contains sprouts of each plant. The priestesses cultivated them especially for you. And, if they do not live, I’m sure you will find a way to grow or gather them on your own. You’ve always been smart.”

Taking a deep breath, you nod slightly and begin your descent down the stairs. Jade releases your hand and you feel when she lifts the train again, but when you reach the carriage door, you don’t hesitate to turn and pull into a tight hug, regardless of how it crushes the back of your dress.

“I will miss you dearly,” you whisper. “You have been the best of companions.” You pull away, and the two of you ignore the tears in each other’s eyes.

The footman helps you into the carriage and you take the seat opposite Sam’s. Sam acknowledges you with a nod and a polite smile, but you’re too afraid that you’ll cry if you try to return it, so you bow your head and wait for the journey to begin. It doesn’t take long for the driver to urge the horses forward. You don’t lift your head to look out the window as your home disappears behind you.

“You look beautiful today,” Sam tries after you’ve been traveling for over an hour. “I’m glad that the dress suits you.”

You still haven’t spoken, but you’ve settled back into your seat and you’re watching the forests pass by through the window. Slowly, you pull your gaze away from the trees and meet his eyes. He isn’t smiling, and you sense that he’s trying to understand what you’re truly like away from your father and other prying eyes.

“Thank you. You have excellent taste, my Lord,” you finally answer, keeping your voice quiet. The emotional toll of the past few hours has made you weary, and if you’re being honest, the thought of having a conversation with your betrothed isn’t a pleasant one, no matter how kindhearted he seems to be.

“It’s Sam. You don’t need to address me with a title. We’re going to be husband and wife, after all.”

Shame settles in your gut and you give him a minute nod. Sam stares at you a moment longer before sighing and looking out the window opposite yours. Thankful that he hasn’t pushed you to talk further, you return your gaze to where it had been only moments before. In the distance, you can see the river that separates Aldrinia from Lawrence, and more tears prick in your eyes. It’s still a long way off, but you can feel the distance becoming smaller and smaller with every turn of the carriage wheels. You inhale deeply, trying to suppress the need to cry.

Another hour of travel passes in silence, but the river is growing nearer. The sound of its roaring rapids fills the carriage and the driver is beginning to slow in anticipation of having to calm the horses as you approach. The river is a force of chaos and known for destroying bridges and washing away travelers of all kinds throughout the year, but the recent rains will make your crossing even more treacherous.

“Sam?”

He jumps slightly, looking over at you in surprise.

“Can we stop the carriage?” you ask, and he frowns slightly.

“Are you feeling ill?”

You shake your head and clutch your hands in your lap. “No, I… I would like a moment to myself before we leave Aldrinia.”

Sam search your face with an odd expression, but he nods after a moment, and turns to knock on the wall of the carriage that separates him from the driver. The horses immediately slow to a stop, and then the carriage door opens.

“Your Majesty?” the footman questions.

“The queen would like to stop for a moment to stretch her legs. Please help her out,” Sam tells him.

The footman gives a short bow and helps you down with one hand. You nod at him in thanks, then look around. In between the thick Aldrinian forests and the river, there are miles of land that hold no trees, farms, or villages. One side of the road to Lawrence is crowded with tall grasses. The other is only packed dirt littered with stones, and you quickly walk away from the carriage toward this open expanse. Behind you, Sam climbs out as well, but he doesn’t follow.

Once you are well and truly alone and unable to be heard by the driver, footmen, and your future husband, you close your eyes and inhale deeply. The rich smell of pine is present even here, where the forests are barely within sight, and the rapids behind you block out everything but the sound of rushing water and the beating of your heart.

You remember your adventures in the forests so clearly. Even at a young age you’d been allowed to run wild and explore the natural wonders of your homeland. The royal nursemaids had helped you climb over difficult rocks and tall logs, and they had explained to you the wonderful things that Aldrinia provided for its people as they led you along by hand. You’d listened with rapt attention as they told you the early legends of the priestesses. When you grew older, they had introduced you to the ruins and the turquoise pools where you began to perform rituals and blessings of your own.

Now, the trees of the forest hum with magical energy whenever you walk through them on your way to and from the castle. The animals greet you and you don’t fear the wolves and the other beasts that stalk in the night. You are neither predator nor prey. You simply exist among them. Those forests have become a second home to you.

Fadhud todi wieij ngifafed sbvuivch jifdai wqe nadjik iofaviud njejid fijoaen ruh.

The ancient words slip from your lips like a prayer, and the world around you responds in turn. A strong wind blows past, knocking you back a step. You brac yourself, listening, feeling, and soaking in all it offered. Sadness rides it, and the ache of your homeland fills every cell of your being. Even the wind knows you’re leaving—this is its goodbye.

You open your eyes and inspect the forest border again. The trees have grown motionless, and the powerful wind has died down almost as quickly as it had risen. It isn’t just the forces of nature that knew you’re leaving Aldrinia. The birds, too, are still and stall their flights so you can have one last look at the kingdom that will forever hold your heart and a piece of your soul.

“I do not want to leave you, I’m sorry. I am doing this for our people, that they may live many long, happy lives underneath your sun,” you murmur. “Farewell, my beloved.”

After a second, on instinct, you kneel down and kiss the ground beneath your feet. Energy thrums under your hands and the rough pebbles dig into the soft skin of your palms, but you ignore them as you give one last silent blessing to Aldrinia and your people.

Reluctantly, you rise to your feet and begin the walk back to the carriage. Sam watches you from beside the open door, but the driver and footmen are pointedly staring forward at the bridge that leads into Lawrence. As you walk, you dust off the front of your gown and adjust the bodice as subtly as possible. You may be a girl who’s grown up half wild, surrounded by nature and magic and life, but you’re going to be a queen, and the man watching you so intently is going to be your husband. If only for the sake of the happiness you can control, you have to at least pretend to be proper.

“Are you ready to go?” Sam asks, and you nod, then let him help you up the step and into the shining black carriage.

“Thank you.”

Sam shuts the door once both of you are settled across from each other again, and then he knocks once to let the driver know that you’re ready to go. The carriage lurched forward as the horses began their walk towards the rushing river and the kingdom beyond. 

Looking out the window, you hold your breath as the driver urges Sam’s four white horses towards the bridge. They stall, making you lurch forward in your seat. He steadies you with one hand on your upper arm and you smile tightly before sitting back all the way. When it happens a second time, you know that there are only two outcomes—either the driver will push them to cross and they’ll panic, causing your carriage to careen over the side of the bridge, or you’ll have to forego the crossing altogether. If the driver decides not to cross the river, you’ll be forced to spend days traveling in the carriage until you reach an easier crossing, then another few days as you travel to the heart of Lawrence.

Even though Aldrinia loves you, you wouldn’t survive being thrown into the rapids, and neither would Sam. However, the idea of spending days, potentially weeks, in the carriage with him makes you feel sick. 

One of the horses gives a frantic whinny outside and you cast a glance in Sam’s direction. He’s looking out the window, clearly listening to what’s happening outside. Satisfied that his attention is elsewhere, you whisper another prayer as quietly as you can.

Rupuqur yevnaiz civmald fuhai dipxa jufiom keweilf vaduun ljkaf.

Suddenly, you realize that you’ve misjudged Sam’s focus. You can feel his eyes on you as the sound of the river fades, and as it does, the horses begin to calm and resume their normal pace. You keep your eyes focused on your hands clasped in your lap.

“What did you do?” Sam asks.

He’s watching you not with suspicion or hesitance, like you’d expected, but with genuine interest shining in his eyes. It takes you a moment to realize that you need to give him some kind of explanation. He’s caught you in the act and there’s no denying it.

You lift your eyes to meet his, then reluctantly reply, “There are many ancient blessings I learned as a child. It’s a habit to repeat them.” It’s the truth, though you have a feeling that your husband-to-be knows that it’s not the whole truth.

Nonetheless, he nods after mulling over your words. “You speak these often?”

You nod once. “Yes. We have blessings and prayers for many occasions. If you wish me to refrain from speaking them in your presence, I will.” The words are forced. You’ve heard of many kings ordering their wives to abandon their native tongue and customs, and though you don’t want to stop using your magic, but you need peace with Sam. Starting an argument or making him angry before you’ve even fully arrived in your new home isn’t wise, as much as your instinct tells you to rebel and forge your own path.

“No,” Sam quickly answers. He shakes his head and leans forward, pausing for a moment before continuing, “No, you don’t need to stop. I find you very interesting, Y/N. You calmed a river that has taken hundreds of my men and my carriages over the years. It is violent and wild, and it’s part of my reason for accompanying you back to my home, but it’s clear that the river listens to you. You were not in need of my help or protection.”

Cheeks warm, you smile hesitantly at his honest praise. “I can promise you that I am not all you think me to be, Sam.”

“The wind when you went to stretch your legs. That was you, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer, but Sam leans shifts to rest his elbows on his knees. He looks more like a schoolboy now, with his hair flopping in front of his face and his shoulders slumped forward as he waits for your reply. Unable to help yourself, you reach out and tuck the hair behind his ear.

“I am not all you think me to be,” you quietly repeat. “But I promise that my intentions are always good.”

“I heard rumors as a boy that Aldrinia was home to women with powerful magic,” Sam replies, seemingly ignoring your vague response. “I did not think myself lucky enough to marry such a woman, but it seems that I have.”

“Sam—”

“Your magic, were you born with it?”

The warm glow you’d felt from his praise dissipates slowly and you shift in your seat, glancing out the window. You’ve crossed into Lawrence now, and the absence of magic in the air is unsettling. Even the sky seems duller.

“Can you teach me?”

You shake your head. “No. Sam, please.” There’s no denying your magic. He’s caught on, and it’s clear that he’s researched your people more in depth than you’d predicted.

“I… My magic is not of any use to you. I cannot fight and I cannot bring you riches. I cannot make myself more beautiful or heal your battle wounds. I cannot—”

“I’m not asking you to do any of those things,” Sam interrupts. He reaches forward and grabs both your hands, and you gasp at his forwardness. His hands are calloused and rough from holding a sword. You watch with wide eyes as he searches your face.

“What do you want?” you murmur when he doesn’t continue. “I don’t understand why we are talking about magic that will only fade the longer I am away from my home. You should be telling me what you expect of me in your household and how I am lucky to be your new wife. Isn’t that what husbands are supposed to do?”

Sam stares at you intently. “I suppose, yes. This magic, you said it will fade?” You nod and he hums in thought. His thumb rubs an arc over your bare hand. “When we arrive at the castle, I wish to see all you can do.”

“Why?”

“I want to see who you truly are, Y/N. Clearly, there were many things I wasn’t told about you and Aldrinia. I foolishly believed that the rumors of magic were simply that—rumors."

Shifting in your seat, you glance out the window at the river passing by beneath you. “The ancient arts aren’t meant for show. They are to be performed in nature or in a place connected to the outside world.”

“I wasn’t giving you a choice,” Sam replies coolly. The warmth and kindness that were once in his eyes have vanished when you look back in surprise.

You swallow nervously. Your hands are trembling in his, but you’re too afraid to pull them from his grip. “Yes, Sam.”

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The director stood from her seat, clipboard and radio in hand. She gave him a scolding look. “Mr. Winchester—”

“Please, call me Sam,” he interrupted. “And I know, you can’t keep waiting with her. It won’t happen again.”

Her expression turned withering. “That’s becoming a catchphrase for you. I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but Elsie can’t keep coming to Gilded Hearts after the end of this week. We have very strict policies about parent pick-up and you signed a contract agreeing to uphold them. You’ve broken that contract multiple times this week alone, and I can’t count the number of times you’ve broken it otherwise.”

Sam frowned, shifting Elsie in his arms so he could pick up her backpack with one hand. “You’re kicking her out? Please, don’t kick her out just because I messed up a few—”

“It’s been more than a few times,” the director pointed out. “If it had been an emergency, it would be a different story, but we can’t keep staying late with her because you can’t seem to be able to pick her at the time you agreed upon when Elsie first started coming here.”

Lifting her head, Elsie looked up at Sam with big, hazel eyes. She’d perfected his own puppy dog expression solely to use on Sam and her Uncle Dean, and Sam’s heart sunk. The guilt settled in and suddenly all he could think about was how selfish he’d been. He’d been putting work in front of his daughter, something he promised he’d never do, and now he had to face the consequences.

“Okay. You said the end of this week?” Sam asked, sighing. The director nodded and gave him a polite, albeit tight, smile. “Alright. Thanks for staying with her. Have a good night.”

The director waved goodbye to Elsie, then watched in silence as Sam carried her out to the car. It was still sunny out and Elsie squinted, whining a little when he stepped out of the shade provided by the enormous oak trees that guarded the day care’s entrance.

“I know. Your sunglasses are in the car, honey.” Sam dug his keys back out of his pocket and unlocked the backseat, then carefully situated Elsie in her carseat. The tiny pair of Minnie Mouse sunglasses were right where they always were, and once his daughter was buckled in, he handed them to her so she could slip them on. She did so immediately.

“Are you sad, Daddy?” she asked. Elsie reached out a hand, grabbing onto Sam’s coat before he could back out of the doorway and go around to the driver’s side.

“I’m not sad, babygirl. Daddy’s just tired from work. Are you hungry? You ready to go home and eat?”

After a moment, Elsie nodded and let go of his coat. Sam shut the door and let out a long sigh as he went around the back of the car. His head was pounding and he was exhausted from shooting in the heat all day, but getting food in his little girl’s stomach and making sure that she got everything else she needed before bedtime had to be his priority right now. Then he would have to figure out where she was going to spend her days after the week was over. She couldn’t exactly come to work with him on an R-rated movie set. The impending migraine would have to wait.

_______________

“What’s your name?” the little girl asked, and you raised your eyebrows at her for a brief moment, then crouched down to her level.

“I’m Y/N. What’s yours?”

She held onto the door handle with both hands, swinging her weight on it as she stared at you. “I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name.”

“That’s very smart,” you replied, smiling. “Is your daddy home?”

“Who’s asking?”

A laugh almost slipped out at the cliché response, but you carefully held it back. You started to answer when a very tall, very handsome man in a suit stepped up behind the little girl in the tutu.

Nodding, you stood and held out your hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N, from the nanny agency. Are you Mr. Winchester?”

The man smiled politely and shook your hand before reaching down to scoop up Elsie. He held her on one hip and stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. He didn’t even seem to be bothered that his shirt and jacket were now rumpled from being squashed by the little girl and her very fluffy tutu, nor did he seem phased when she reached out to hold onto the tie around his neck.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Please, call me Sam. I’m glad you could come on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem,” you replied. You glanced around the entryway of Sam’s enormous house, a little surprised. It was grand, but compared to some of the others in the neighborhood, this house seemed more… lived in. Turning around, you smiled politely. “Is there anything you wanted to ask me that wasn’t in my file? I know that they already sent over my resume, references, and bio, but there’s always something that people want to know.”

Sam gave you a once-over before closing the door. “You’re a live-in nanny, right?” he asked. You nodded. “I don’t have any questions, but how about you check out the guest room before you decide if you want to stay? The last nanny we tried had some issues with it.”

“Issues?” you repeated, suddenly a bit more hesitant, and Sam gestured for you to follow him up the stairs. You did, glad that you’d left your suitcase in the car. The staircase was immense and it would’ve been a pain to drag it up all the way.

As you walked, Elsie chattered to Sam, who glanced at her and replied when necessary. You couldn’t hear everything they said, but it was clear that he cared deeply for her. Every nod, every thoughtful reply, every second of eye contact he offered her reassured you that this would be a good family to work with for your next position. It would certainly be better than your last one, that was for sure.

When you finally arrived at the opposite end of the hallway, Sam pushed open a door and gestured for you to enter first. You did, taking a look around. The “guest room” was more like a deluxe suite and you had to remind yourself not to let your mouth hang open as you took it all in. It made you wonder if there was some sort of housekeeper or maid that cleaned Sam’s house, because there was no way he kept the room as beautiful as it was, worked, and took care of his gorgeous little girl.

“It’s got an attached bathroom with a shower and a tub, and you’ll have your own private balcony. It overlooks the backyard and the pool, which you’re welcome to use at any time. There’s a walk-in closet through that door,” Sam pointed to a closed door off to the right of the bathroom, “And there’s an office across the hall you can use if you want. There’s a printer and internet hookups in case you’re having problems with the WiFi. You shouldn’t, but it never hurts to be prepared. Of course, if you don’t like the furniture I’ve got in here we can move it and you can put your own things in. I hired a decorator for the whole house when I first moved in and I haven’t done anything with the room since then.

You nodded, a bit overwhelmed. “Right. Can I ask what the issue was? That the last nanny had?”

“She didn’t like the view from the balcony, apparently, and she complained that she was too close to Elsie’s room.” You frowned and Sam shrugged. The distaste was clear in his voice as he continued, “She said she preferred to have a room near the other adults in the household instead of the child that she cares for. My room is on the other side of the stairs we came up.”

Elsie started to wiggle in his arms and he set her down, not looking away from you. She instantly ran over to the bed and climbed on top to sprawl out over the plush white comforter.

“The room is great, Sam,” you replied, nodding. “It’s amazing, actually.” You glanced back at Elsie and sat on the edge of the mattress. “How’s the bed? Comfy?”

Elsie giggled and nodded before rolling onto her stomach to look at Sam. “Is this my new nanny?”

“I think so,” Sam replied. He looked over at you and you nodded. “Looks like it, Elsie girl! You can show her your room and your playroom in a few minutes, okay? First we gotta do the grown-up stuff.”

Grinning, the little girl scrambled off the bed to run off to another part of the house. She shouted a quick “Okay!” on her way out of the room.

“So, you think you’d be okay being her nanny? Obviously I’ll let you look over the contract and you can take it to a lawyer if you need—”

“That’s not really necessary,” you told him, holding up your hand to stop Sam from going any further. “I’ll look it over downstairs if you wouldn’t mind getting me something to drink while I read.”

“Water okay?”

You nodded, and you and Sam headed downstairs where the contract was waiting.

_______________

Working for Sam was one of the best things that had ever happened to you. Not only was Elsie adorable and one of the smartest, funniest kids you’d ever nannied, but her dad was amazing, too. He never failed to make you laugh and though he was constantly overworking himself during the day, you admired the way that his focus was entirely on Elsie and his homelife as soon as he parked in the garage. Even if he finished work at three in the morning, he came looking for his daughter the minute he was home. If she was awake, she was always more than happy to cuddle up and watch a movie, go swimming in their pool, or just show him the pictures she’d worked on for him during the day. Then, as soon as the little princess was in bed, Sam’s attention turned to you. That was one of the best parts of your job, though it was becoming a problem. No matter what Sam did and despite your best efforts, your crush kept growing. He was just too great, and you worried that someday you’d be heartbroken when he brought home some gorgeous movie star. Then you’d have to quit, and not only would you be out of a job, but the best two people in your life would immediately become a part of your past. That was the last thing you wanted.

It wasn’t until you’d been the nanny for eight months that Sam asked you to bring Elsie to set. The request caught you off guard—usually he avoided involving Elsie in anything that had to do with his work because of the nature of his films—but you knew that he was a smart guy, so you loaded up the almost-five-year-old into your car and drove to the address he’d texted.

“Daddy!” Elsie squealed. Sam’s head turned towards you and he smiled wide when he saw Elsie dragging you by the hand across the packed dirt of the filming site. She had insisted on wearing her princess dress, and the sight of her in the poofy, sparkly dress and Minnie Mouse sunglasses was enough to make anyone laugh. You were thankful you’d put your own sunglasses on before you’d climbed out of the car, otherwise the sun’s glare would have been too bright for you to even see Sam. He had his glasses on as well, and you briefly wondered if he’d take them off at some point so you could see his eyes in the sunlight.

“Hi, Bug!” As soon as she was within his reach, Sam picked her up and swung her up onto his shoulders. The move was almost one fluid motion and though he did it all the time, you still marveled and Elsie still giggled.

The man Sam had been talking to—you vaguely recognized his face from a magazine in the grocery store checkout—was dressed in an elaborate suit of leather armor. He glanced over at you as you approached, but he quickly turned his attention back to Sam.

“So what are you going to do about her?” the man asked.

Sam glanced at him before looking up at Elsie, smiling wide. “We’ll have a talk. Don’t worry about it, Erick.”

Ah, so he’s the action hero, you thought, and you looked the actor up and down. He looks shorter in person.

Erick turned and caught you staring at him, and his lip curled up in disgust. “Who are you?”

“She’s my best friend!” Elsie replied before anyone else could. You smiled on instinct.

“Right...” Erick drawled. He looked up at Elsie and the disgusted look on his face didn’t fade even as he walked away to a u-shaped cluster of chairs and makeup vanities. He was immediately swarmed by women fussing over his hair, makeup, and costume.

Once he was fair enough away, you turned towards Sam with raised eyebrows. “So. This is the movie business,” you retorted.

He laughed and adjusted his grip on Elsie’s little legs. “Something like it, yeah. Don’t worry about him, he’s always like that. It’s not one of his redeeming features, but he was the favorite for this role. Do you guys want a tour of the set?”

Elsie cheered and wiggled a little on Sam’s shoulders, and he tightened his grip accordingly. You nodded in agreement.

“A tour would be great, Sam, but aren’t you on your lunch break?”

Sam shrugged and started walking. You followed close behind as he began to explain the set in terms that Elsie could understand. She was smart, and she loved big words, but she was still just a kid. After a while, he managed to commandeer a golf cart for the three of you, and you ended up riding around not only just the set, but in between all the trailers and the service roads that surrounded the site. You had to admit that the area was beautiful, even if it was hot and dusty.

Eventually, you, Sam, and Elsie ended up outside his trailer. It was smaller than the actors’, but he explained as you followed him up the steps that he really didn’t use it much, and he only had one for this part of production because they were filming in a more remote location than usual. Food was waiting for you on the small dining table inside, and all three of you breathed a sigh of relief at the air conditioning.

“Can I come to set tomorrow?” Elsie asked as she climbed up onto the couch.

Sam handed her the hot dog from the container marked with her name and smiled a little. “Not tomorrow, Ells. Maybe another day,” he said. He picked up the two remaining containers and held out the one with your name scrawled across the top.

After murmuring your thanks, you settled down on the opposite side of Elsie from him and opened the styrofoam box. Your favorite sandwich was inside and you smiled over at Sam, a little bit surprised that he’d remembered. He didn’t make or order you food often, since you normally ate with Elsie during the day and on your own at night so that Elsie’s attention wasn’t divided between the two of you.

“You mentioned that it was your favorite that one time we went to the boardwalk,” Sam said, noticing your surprise. “It just kinda stuck in my brain, and I saw it on the menu when I was ordering our lunches before you got here.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you replied, honestly shocked. No one had ever remembered your usual order. “Thank you.”

Sam nodded in reply and the three of you dug into your meals in relative silence. Elsie finished first, like usual, and she was starting to dig through the things in Sam’s trailer when there was a knock at the door.

Elated, the little girl ran over and tugged it open, the force of which pushed her down to sit on the top step of the entry. “Hi!” she cried, and you sat up on the couch to see who she was talking to.

“Hi!” a woman chuckled. After a second, Elsie popped back up and led the short-haired woman into the trailer by the hand. “Is this your daughter, Sam?”

“No, this is a monster!” Sam grabbed Elsie around the waist and pulled her into his lap, growling playfully. Elsie squealed and squirmed as he tickled her, and the woman laughed. You smiled too, but you reached over to move Sam’s half-eaten meal out of the way. You’d seen this play out too many times to think that he and Elsie would be able to avoid knocking it onto the rug.

Elsie finally freed herself from Sam’s grasp and scrambled into yours. You wrapped them around her, hugging her tightly, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Sam caught your eye and grinned wide before looking back at the woman still standing in his trailer.

“What’s going on, Jody? Are we having a wardrobe problem again?” he asked, getting to his feet.

She shook her head. “No, but I heard a certain someone in here really likes princesses, and I thought I could give her a little tour of the wardrobe trailer,” Jody replied with a slow smile.

“Right, the wardrobe trailer with all the princess dresses…” Sam looked back at Elsie, who was watching him and Jody with wide eyes. She’d cued in on the key words in their conversation and was practically vibrating with excitement in your arms. “What do you say, Elsie? Would you like to go with Miss Jody to see the princess dresses for daddy’s movie?”

Elsie nodded vigorously and you let her down off your lap. She grabbed Jody’s outstretched hand with a wide smile and waved at Sam as she was led down the steps that led out of his trailer. The door slammed behind her and Jody, and after a second, you stood and gathered up two of the discarded lunch containers. 

Sam stared at you as you carried them over to the trash, and finally you looked up at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“You’re staring at me, Sam. There’s not something on the back of my pants, right? Or shirt?” You twisted, trying to get a look at your back just in case, and your face grew hot at the idea that you’d been walking around with Sam-freaking-Winchester, the super hot, award-winning director, all the while looking like a slob.

“No, no. I just…” Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He watched through the window as some of the crew members walked by outside, then dropped his hand back down and looked back at you. “We need to talk about something.”

Oh no.

“Sure, is everything okay?”

Sam sat back down on the couch and gestured for you to return to your own seat. You did, and you purposefully folded your hands in your lap so that you wouldn’t fidget and give away how nervous you felt. Your stomach was twisted up in knots.

“Yes. I mean, no, but… It’s a good kind of not okay.”

“Oh…Okay.”

“That didn’t make sense,” Sam said after a second.

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed, smiling a little. “Is this about Elsie? Is there something different you maybe want me to do with her? Or do you think it’s time for her to go back to a daycare, or even a preschool? She’s almost in Kindergarten anyway. I really don’t mind just watching her in the mornings and afternoons, if that’s what you need.”

“Do you not want to work with Elsie anymore?” His eyebrows furrowed and you quickly backtracked. “Because if you don’t—”

“No! No, I love Elsie. She’s an amazing kid, Sam. I just… I’m trying to figure out what you mean. A good kind of not okay?”

Sam sighed and nodded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees for a few moments as he thought, then leaned back and relaxed against the couch cushions. You watched in silence, and with each passing second, the feeling that you might puke just from the suspense of the whole thing grew.

“I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot,” Sam finally said.

“I like you and Elsie too, Sam, but what’s that got to do with this?”

“No.” He shook his head, reaching over to put one large hand over your folded ones. You froze, absolutely stunned. Sam had never touched you except for handshakes, or maybe in passing when he took Elsie from you.

“Y/N, I really like you. I like you in the non-professional sense.”

Oh.

“I like you in the romantic sense,” Sam continued. “And I’d really like to see you romantically, but you’re my employee. I don’t want to cross any boundaries, and the only reason I’m telling you this is because I think that you might want the same thing.”

You swallowed, looking down. Slowly, you relaxed your grip on your hands and let him take one of them in his. After a second, his thumb began to rub over your skin and the feeling was hypnotizing. “I do. Want the same,” you added. “I’ve liked you a long time, Sam.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, Y/N.”

Looking up at him, you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “I don’t. I don’t feel pressured, Sam. I really do like you, and I was honestly worried I’d have to quit if you ever brought home some famous movie star or something. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

Sam smiled wide, his eyes lighting up. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that?” You shook your head. “A really long time, Y/N. Almost the whole time you’ve been Elsie’s nanny,” he admitted, and you grinned back at him.

Any nerves you’d had were completely gone now. Sam’s touch—even though it was just his thumb on the back of your hand—was more soothing than you could’ve ever imagined, and though the butterflies in your stomach were alive and well, you’d hoped for a while that you and Sam would have this conversation.

“Really?”

He nodded and brought your hand up to his lips to kiss it. The butterflies leaped for joy.

“That’s a long time. I didn’t even catch on,” you told him.

“I had to be careful. And to be honest, the only reason I suspected you liked me back is because Elsie started talking about how you and I act like one of her friend’s parents whenever we’re together. She started asking questions and it made me think.”

You laughed. “That little girl has got a brain bigger than yours. She’s gonna grow up amazing.”

Sam hadn’t stopped grinning at you and you felt your face grow warm under all the attention. If this was an old black and white movie, you would’ve swooned by now, but now his smile was beginning to fade. You sensed that the other shoe was about to drop and your own smile wilted.

“I’ve got you to thank for a lot of that,” Sam said, his voice softer. “We can’t be together if you're my employee, Y/N.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you murmured. After a second, you gave him a sly smile. “You and Elsie just need to put your big brains together.”

_______________

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