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“Sam? Sam Winchester?” He grimaces, eyes winding shut tightly as he prays to whatever the hell is out there that this is not happening.
“Y/N!” Dean greets solidifying that, yes, this is happening. And Sam is so screwed.
“Sup Dean.” You greet quickly, moving past the older brother without a second glance. No, your attention is on the tall asshole before you who still hasn’t looked at you. “Sammy.”
The nickname is a knife in his back.
Here goes nothing, he thinks.
“Hey, YN.” He sounds scared. Good. Cuz you’re gonna tear him a new asshole.
“Been a while.” You grunt, arms crossed over your chest. He does his best not to notice how the motion props your breasts up in just the right way.
And that was for sure.
It had been a while.
“Has it?” He goes for innocence. It’s not a good look on him.
“Yup. In fact, the last time I saw you, you were burning down my only source of income.” He flinches, Dean chuckling in the background. You shut that shit up with nothing more than a glance. “Where the hell have you been, Winchester?”
He’s hesitant to answer, that giant stature deflating a little as he stares at you from under those long lashes. God, he’s pretty.
No, woman! That’s how you got into the mess in the first place!
“Well?”
“Well, we uh-”
“Oh no, you don’t!” The older Winchester cuts in, arms raised in surrender. “There is no ‘we’ here. You are not dragging me into this excuse. If you need me, sweetheart, I’ll be over there. Minding my own damn business.”
You return Dean’s smile, watching him stomp back to his car at the far gas pump. That just leaves you and Sam by the door to the little stop-n-go.
“So? Where ya been?”
“Where haven’t I been?” He chuckles, shoving his oversized hands into his pockets. “We’ve been hunting a lot of shit lately. None of it has been easy.”
“That why you still haven’t paid me back?” He has the decency to shrink under your stare. A lame ‘I’m sorry.’ is mumbles under his breath and you can only sigh. “Tell you what, you buy me lunch, tell me what the hell happened to you, and we can call it even.”
“Y/N, that would be amazi-”
“But only for the car.” He stops just short of the finger you’re jabbing in his face and with only one step more, you would’ve poked his eye out. He gulps. “You still owe me for the bar.”
“That’s fair.”
“So she was buried under my bar?” You ask in shock, burger frozen just before your lips. “What the actual fuck! What sicko kills and buries their own sister under the bar you co-own?!”
“Well technically, only one of the bodies was under the bar.” He explains, wiping some stray mustard away from his lips. You lick your own as you do your best to refrain from licking it off yourself. He goes on, “The sister.” He clarifies. “The husband-slash-lover was…” You hold up a hand, not even wanting to know where his body was in your bar. “If we could’ve, we would’ve just salted and burned the bones. Then you could’ve kept the bar, but it just held too much significance to the ghosts.”
“So she killed them because the two’d been having an affair after hours? Brutal.” A thought makes your stomach turn. “I served food on that bar.” Sam’s chuckle is warm and rights your frown almost immediately.
You shutter, actually glad to be rid of the building. Sure, it was yours, but it had also been falling apart and proving to be more trouble than it was worth.
Obviously.
Though it did bring you the Winchesters.
They rolled in on a rainy day, two beautiful men in suits and you had to pinch yourself to make sure you were awake. The shorter of the two noticed the motion, smirking widely at you and turning on the charm. Your focus, however, is on the taller of the two. The shy one with the long chestnut hair, killer smile, and a jawline that could cut glass.
It took everything you had not to throw yourself at him.
Well, everything you had and the fact that they were here asking about the recent death in the area.
Death and killings will put a damper on one’s libido.
The former owner of your…fine? establishment was found drowned in her bathtub. Only it wasn’t full of bath water. Instead, the woman had been found in a pool of Jack Daniels whiskey. The brothers, of course, read into what everyone else had ignored - a) that such a death was weird as
hell
, and b) that the woman’s late husband’s name was Jack. The husband who had gone missing only a few months prior to her selling you the joint.
Their search leads them to you, and you fell for those big, beautiful eyes and dazzling smile all too easily.
Their hunt proved more difficult than they’d anticipated. After digging up the graves of Jack and the deceased’s sister - they found that they were both empty. No remains to salt and burn.
That’s when the hauntings in your bar started.
In the middle of a slow night, a man who looked like death himself rolled in and didn’t say a word as he plopped down on a stool. You greeted him like normal, asking him what his poison would be. He only stared at you wordlessly, cold, empty eyes unnerving you completely.
It isn’t until Sam - who before that had said his name was Agent Erikson - came bolting in in his casual clothes that you realized something was off.
If the ever confident and cool Agent Erikson - Sam - was this rattled, then something wasn’t right.
“Y/N!” He yells, voice breaking through your fright and pulling your eyes to him. “The salt!”
And, though you’re not 100% sure why, you listen to him - tossing the salt in the unmoving man’s face. He disappears, if at least for the moment, and Sam uses the opportunity to haul you out of the bar and back to the motel he and his brother are staying at.
And that’s where he tells you everything. Who they really are, what they’re really doing here, and just what the hell this had to do with you.
Dean decides to take lead and disappears in his Impala.
You? Well, your adrenaline is running high, and Sam is a rather attractive man. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with your self-distraction tactic what with the way he isn’t pushing your kiss away.
In fact, he is wholly on board - pulling you closer until the two of you aren’t sure where one body ends and one begins.
For weeks it goes on like this, Sam even going as far as to suggesting a change of scenery. You’re confused at first, until he explains that your place might be a little more private than the room he and Dean are renting. Not wanting to be found out and damage the (mostly) professional relationship you have with the brothers, you agree.
Dean finds out, because of course he does, and he proceeds to give the two of you a rash of shit for it.
But you don’t care. Cuz Sam has totally stolen your heart.
That is until he physically throws you from your own car and then drives said car into your fucking bar. You’re terrified for a moment, hands clasped over your mouth as you attempt to remember how to breathe.
Then Sam walks out, unscathed, and you remember your fury.
“Are you fucking crazy?!” You screech, fists pounding into his chest as all that was left of your sole source of income succumbed to the flames behind you. “Sam what the fuck?!”
“I’m sorry, but it was the only way!” He begs, eyes so open and apologetic. You’re too pissed to see reason. “It had to be burned down!”
You see red, and if you’re honest with yourself, you were being…just a little unreasonable.
“So was that all I was to you? A means to an end?”
“No, Y/N, I lov-”
“I don’t want to hear it!” You snarl, planting your palms against perfectly sculpted pecs and pushing. “Get out! Get out of my town! I never want to see you again!”
And for all intents and purposes, you never did. You didn’t see them. But they saw you, Sam made sure of it. Made sure to keep an eye on you. To send some money your way - anonymously, of course - since it was his fault you were without a job and still trying to pay the city back for the damages.
It was just pure happenstance that you saw the brothers at the gas station today.
“So,” Sam looks up at you through those damn lashes again, his pretty pink lip stuck between his teeth. “Am I forgiven?”
You smile at him, shrugging gently before shoving the bill his way.
“You broke my heart, ya’know. Don’t know if I could forgive you so easily.” He’s a giant, quiet kicked puppy. Staring at you with those giant kicked puppy eyes and damn it all he’s too good at this. “Besides, how can I forgive you if you’re just gonna up and run any time there’s a hunt? I could be of use. I ampretty good with a gun, ya know?” His smile is dazzling and realization dances in his eyes. “What’dya say, Sammy? Think Dean would let me tag along?”
“To hell what Dean says.” His lips are on yours and he doesn’t give a damn how many old women he scandalizes in this run down diner. He’s not pulling away until you’re jello. When he does, he’s staring so deeply into your eyes that you may as well melt in your seat. “A chance to hunt with you? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”