Chapter Text
*BANG* *BANG*
Two successive gunshots blared from behind, as a tall figure ran past you. You could see what was happening, understand it even, but for the life you, couldn’t make sense out of it. It was as if you were standing in one frame of reality and the scene unfolding before you was from another. As you watched Dean run from behind you, gun blazing, a sick sense of Déjà vu settled over you.
The events of the evening were repeating themselves in sickly familiar order as Dean crouched next to his brother. Those actions from only a few hours ago seemed years old as you stood there watching Dean slap his brother’s cheek, trying to wake him. The rounds aimed at the werewolf’s heart had found their target on point and he had toppled over, crashing into the cupboard and falling into a heap on the ground, his yellow- ocher eyes deadly even in death.
“Sam, Sammy!” Dean was yelling. He shook Sam by his shoulders “Wake up.”
Sam did not wake, his head rolled to one side, hair soaked with blood.
“Y/N, get some water!”
You did not move, you could not move.
“Y/N!” Dean shouted again, “Hurry! Get some water.”
That shook you up. Your mind felt oddly disconnected from your body as you ran to the kitchen to get some water. The best day of your life-your dream -had suddenly turned into your worst nightmare right in front of your eyes. You grabbed the bottle and rushed to Dean’s side. There, you found him mopping up Sam’s head with the table cloth, trying to figure out the worst of his wounds. Sam had a long gash running across his neck and chest which was bleeding profusely. There were claw marks on his arm and he had hit his head. His locks were drenched in blood that was dripping from his shoulder.
Dean splashed the water on Sam’s face. For a split second nothing happened, but then with a huge gasp Sam’s eyes fluttered open.
"Y/N?” he huffed.
“She’s right here, she is fine.” Dean said, “Thank god you’re okay.” Dean flopped on the floor, relief evident in his voice.
Sam’s eyes searched around until they found yours, the pain in them quickly melting into relief. But then he suddenly groaned, squeezing his eyes shut slumped back into unconsciousness.
“Oh no, no!” You crashed on the floor next to him, tears finally making their belated appearance.
“He’s okay,” Dean said, “Just knocked out. Come on, help me with him.”
Both of you lifted Sam by the shoulders and hefted him on to the sofa whereby Dean promptly ripped off what was left of his jacket, shirt and undershirt to reveal the inch deep wound. The cloth had helped stop a lot of the blood flow but it was still bad.
“Y/N?” Dean looked at you, his eyes beseeching, begging for you to understand. “I can’t take him to the hospital, I am sure you can understand why but I need to patch him up or this will get messy. I need your help with this, can you do that?”
You nodded mutely.
“Alright, here’s what I need."
He explained to you what to do and both of you set to work quickly. You dashed off to the bathroom to get a bucket full of warm water and Dean rushed outside to get his things. On your way back to the living room, you grabbed a bottle of whiskey and found Dean kneeling over Sam’s shoulder. He quickly set to work, cleaning the wound with a quarter and a hot knife. You couldn’t look at it but you couldn’t look away either. Instead, you let your eyes wander over Sam’s naked torso, taking in every inch of him. He was nothing like you imagined. He wasn’t the sophisticated, public man you though he would be. Sure you knew he was loving and gentle, every bit a man worth respecting. But the person lying unconscious in front of you was a savior, he was worth much, much more.
Dean sewed up the wound in a very brutal fashion but the technique was effective, the bleeding stopped. Dean’s hands weren’t even shaking and merely thinking about the number of times Dean had had to patch up his brother this way made you want to hurl.
You slowly sat down on the floor next to sofa, your shoulder touching the side of Sam’s waist. This way Dean was blocking most of the wound. You could however see Sam’s face. For such a hefty build, Sam looked remarkably like a child in his sleep, heartbreakingly innocent and vulnerable. It made you want to smile and cry at the same time. You wrapped one arm around your crossed knees, hugging them closer to your chest as you leaned against Sam’s side curling into a ball. Your other hand hesitantly curled around Sam’s, fingers grazing his palm. His hand was calloused beyond his age, like a man who had labored for years.
"Why is he not a lawyer?” The question tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it.
“What?” Dean asked. He was cleaning his hands, having finished sewing up the wound.
“Why is he not a lawyer, Dean?” You realized that you were angry. “He is smart, he is hard working and he had a full-ride to Stanford, so why is he not a lawyer? Why is he hauling ass all over the place, putting himself in danger instead of living a white picket fence, apple-pie life?” You were nearly yelling by this point.
Dean looked a bit shocked, he wasn’t used to being questioned, you guessed. “Why…? How do you…” he was at a loss for words.
“I am the Y/N he has been E-mailing to for the past fifteen years.” you said impatiently, wanting your answers.
If Dean had looked shocked a while ago, it was nothing compared to what he looked now. He was staggered.
“You’re the E-mail girl? How in the name of…” he trailed off, completely speechless.
His silence was agitating you.
“Tell me, Dean, what could have possibly happened to him that completely shattered his dream?”
Dean still looked baffled. “He had to leave Stanford.”
“Why?”
“Because of what happened to Jess.”
“What happened to her?”
“It’s a long story, Y/N, and you look like you are about to go into a shock.”
“I’m fine. Tell me.” You challenged.
“No, Y/N…” Dean started
“Don’t screw with me, Dean, I have been in love with this man for half my life now. I damn well deserve to know why the fuck is he lying bloody and unconscious right now!”
Dean looked hard at you for a moment. Something about your face convinced him and he sighed.
“Fine. It all started when Sam was six months old.”
You stared in mute horror as Dean told you about how a demon had visited Sam’s nursery when he was only six months old and infused him with demon blood. The demon had killed their mom by setting her on fire on their ceiling. Their house had burned down and their father, John, hell-bent on revenge had raised them both into this life. John had trained them to be soldiers and not really his sons, hauling them from one place to another, changing schools and lives. Sam had never wanted any of it, he had always wanted to study, chase his dreams. Sam had always wanted an out from the life. That was why Sam had bolted on the first opportunity to Stanford where he’d met Jessica.
At this point your heart was breaking for Sam and Dean, too. You knew all about Jess. Sam never used to shut up about her then, until he stopped talking about her all of a sudden. You had always assumed a terrible break-up. But when Dean told you that she had died exactly the way their mom had, your hand flew to your mouth. And that wasn’t all, Dean was on a roll now. He told you about the demon Azazel’s plans to use Sam for his purposes and how Sam had fought him. How he had taken on Lucifer himself to save the world and died in the process.
You were so stunned by this point that when Dean told you about how he brought Sam back to life, you believed him. You gathered both of Dean’s hands in your own and you kissed them, you didn’t know how to express your gratitude.
“Thank you, thank you for bringing him back.” That was all you could manage before your throat gave up and tears, hot and heavy fell on to your jumbled hands. “Just thank you.”
Dean’s eyes softened. “Hey, hey, Y/N don’t cry. Sam is strong. He’s been through stuff that is so horrific, it’s beyond imagination. He has sacrificed himself on more than one occasion and always beat the odds to be victorious. A werewolf scratch is not going to harm him. He will be up and about in a minute. He is Sam fucking Winchester.”
You looked up at Dean, his eyes were glowing with pride for his brother. And you couldn’t have been prouder yourself. Sam was a hero! All that time you were crying about petty heartbreaks, he had been saving the god forsaken world and even then he had always managed to cheer you up. Your problems had been important for him even then.
“I was so stupid!” You muttered “All this while, worrying him with my stupid self-centered life.”
Dean shook his head. “No. In fact, you were the one who tethered him to normalcy. You were the one who made him smile even in the shittiest of messes. You were his escape.”
“Thank you.” Was all you could say.
Dean smirked then, attempting to lighten the mood, “Well one good thing came out this whole mess, at least, I got to meet Sam’s E-girlfriend.”
You scoffed. “I don’t think he likes me that way. I don’t think he ever has. Why did he never want to meet me then? Why else would he hide the person that he is from me?”
“I think you are wrong, Y/N. I think he has been his truest with you. All these years, all the women he’s been with, he was never really there. Ever thought that maybe he loved you too much to drag your life into this mess?”
You said nothing, allowing yourself to believe what your heart had been trying to tell you for all these years. Sam truly did love you.
“I’d be willing to bet that he loves you more than he lets on, kiddo. I’d at least win that bet.”
You were confused. “What?”
“Oh, I used to tell him the account he is chatting up with is a middle-aged man playing him, but he was sure you were this hot brunet. Guess he won that one, huh?” Dean winked as he got up to clear up the bloody mess of clothes around you.
It made you giggle in spite of yourself.
You were right next to him when Sam finally woke. Dean had knocked himself out in the back seat of the Impala in the early hours of dawn after getting rid of the Werewolf’s body. You had offered your bed but he had vehemently denied saying he preferred his Baby to silk sheets any day. Then, he had winked and elaborated that he’d rather not be in the same place as you and Sam when he woke up. That had made you blush.
You had been nodding off against Sam’s arm, your head resting against his biceps.
“Y/N?” His voice brought you back from your stupor.
“Sam! Oh thank God you’re up,” you whispered against his arm, your voice hoarse.
Sam winced slightly, assessing the wound. “What happened?”
You narrated the whole incidence, as Sam slowly sat upright, your voice threatening to betray you.
“I had to go and knock myself out, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam sighed. “You could have been hurt or worse if Dean hadn’t turned up on time.”
You stared. This man was apologizing for not saving you when he had nearly died trying. You couldn’t have possibly fallen for a better man. You looked down to your hand, a yellowing piece of parchment was wrapped in your fingers. Its edges were frayed and the paper was fragile, as if it had been read over and over, many a times.
You took a deep breath that shook your entire frame.
“What is it?”
You looked Sam straight in his beautiful multi-colored eyes. It was now or never. You plucked up all the courage and thrust the piece of paper into Sam’s unhurt hand.
He was bewildered. “What’s this?”
“Open it,” you said, your eyes starting to fill up.
Sam opened the parchment and slowly held it up. You watched with baited breath as he read, his confused eyes widening with every word that he took in. Suddenly, he gasped.
“Y/N?” he looked up that you as if he was seeing you for the very first time. That was your cue as the tears started flowing unbounded.
This is so stupid! You thought. He is here finally and he knows and I am crying like an idiot.
Sam was still looking at you like he was seeing a miracle, his eyes wondrous.
Of all the times you had imagined meeting Sam, of all the thousand scenarios you had ever dreamt of you had never imagined this. This was stranger than all of those put together. There were no flowers, no big restaurants with chaperones, no red dresses and tuxedos. You were dressed in pink pajama shorts and he was shirt-less, covered in blood. But as you looked into his awed eyes, you knew that this moment couldn’t have been more perfect. The realization hit you hard and a sob ripped through your chest. Sam was right here in front of you and you were crying pathetically.
“I’m s-sorry, I’m crying…” you blubbered. “ I just… I-I…
In a fraction of a second, Sam slid down the sofa, coming to kneel next to you and crushed his lips to yours, drowning the rest of your apology. He was pouring fifteen years worth of angst, desperation and wait into the kiss, he was worshiping you. When you broke apart, his own eyes were glistening tears.
"It’s you,” he said holding up the battered piece of paper, with his handwriting on it. It was that first letter, a reluctant assignment by a bored teacher in a generic high school class. It was that scroll, the same one that the scrawny teenage Sam had stowed into a wallflower Y/N’s locker. The one that had started it all.
“Yes,” was all you could manage to say.
“God! You’re perfect.” He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, tears gliding down his face. There wasn’t anything more to say. Words weren’t enough. What could you possibly say to one another after being in hopeless love for more than a decade… Except-
“I love you.” The words rushed out of your mouth.
Sam chuckled and pulled you into his chest with one arm. “I love you, too, Y/N. All these years I have been yearning to meet you, living one day at a time, trying to curb the soul-consuming temptation. I have never wanted someone more, trust me!”
This time you pulled him towards you, capturing his lips within yours. Your fingers knotted in his messy hair. He tasted divine.
“Don’t leave me now, please…” you murmured against his lips.
Sam was quiet. You could see the battle raging in his eyes.
“This life… you don’t know what I have done…” he started.
"I know,” you cut him off. “Dean told me everything.”
“Even then?” Sam’s expression was pained. He was expecting a rebuff, he was expecting to be rejected and it broke your heart.
“Especially then! Don’t you see it, Sam?” You exclaimed, “You’re a hero and I couldn’t be more proud of you. You are much more than the man I thought you were. I don’t think I could have chosen a better man. Hell, I don’t even know if there is a better man. I know about the bunker, it’s an hour’s drive from here, I’ll move, it doesn’t matter. Please?”
You bent forward, embracing the uninjured part of Sam, breathing him in. His entire body seemed to relax at your touch.
“Yes… God, yes!” He finally breathed, kissing the top of your hair. “How did I get so lucky?”
“You got that backwards, Winchester.” you smiled against his chest.
Sam laughed and the sound of it warmed your heart.
“So you’ll move, huh? Set a date yet?” His eyes were glowing with elation.
Your own heart seemed to grow double its size but you somehow managed to smirk and raise your eyebrow at him.
“I don’t know, Why don’t you Email me and we will fix an appointment for that,” you said as you pressed your lips to his.