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You never knew eyes could look that empty, you never knew bones could feel so empty, skin, thoughts, memories. A shiver going across your body like you’re both hot and cold, falling asleep and waking up at the same time. Keeping your body upright feels like a chore.
“Do you feel it?”
You look up, sluggishly, disorientated, trying to pinpoint the voice, to pinpoint who of the two boys sitting next to you, well one next to you, the other across, spoke – Sam. A soft smile goes across your face when you see him, your pretty boy, his quite, endearingly messy, short hair looking fluffy and soft like clouds. You knew he was trying to grow it out, and you didn’t mind him doing so, but you liked that he wasn’t succeeding at it very well yet, that it wasn’t quite ‘long’ yet, that at least for now he still looked like the adorable 17-year-old you are in love with, tall, sweet, hair that was straight one day and rather curly the next, as unpredictable as it had been that this dream of a guy liked you as much as you liked him. A highschool crush turned highschool relationship, slipping notes in lockers and stealing kisses under bleachers, whispering promises about the future, turned- whatever it would turn into with him leaving for college soon. He had promised he would write, and you knew you would follow him soon enough. The thought, word, crosses your mind again as you feel him make eye contact with you with those beautiful eyes of his that appear to change color depending on the brightness of the world around you, perhaps reflecting the very brightness of his soul. The eyes you loved looking into so much, that made you feel seen, loved, and protected.
Adorable.
You chuckle, somewhat laboredly. You had never called him that before. Someone should have really called him that before. It’s the truth. He really is. He is the most precious bean on the planet, worthy of protection, worthy to forever be happy. However, with a dad like you knew him and his brother have, you doubt he has been made to feel that way often. That’s okay. You will make better memories together. He will go to college, become a lawyer, you will follow next year, study to become a teacher or something, perhaps a lawyer too, or just whatever, you weren’t sure yet. Point was that you would move away, together, leave the world that made him this wonderful but pained mess behind, be happy, together.
Adorable.
You mutter the word, more to yourself than him, feeling your lips part more consciously than you think you normally do, but you don’t mind. Sam’s adorable, and perfect, and yours.
“What?” you look, thinking he asked something, but maybe it’s just his body that you felt move as he holds his head against yours for a moment before looking at you, long, carefully, a faint blush on his cheeks – o yeah he heard you, you think, grinning to yourself. so you repeat the word, seeing the blush grow.
You look at him, his expression is soft, though he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something, a slight hint of a quiver in his lip, of his fingers on your skin. It’s as if your senses have been heightened.
“What?” you ask, as if it only hits you now that the words he said to you formed a question.
“Is it kicking in yet?” this particular question comes from the older brother, Dean you know – you don’t know why he joined you here today but you don’t mind it too much, he was the one with access to booze, to food, to drugs, which was an odd thing for Sam to suggest, goody two shoes that he was, but you had once promised him that you would try everything once and you were not going back on that promise now. Dean you didn’t know very well but he had been decent company so far, supplying you with whatever you asked of him as the hours ticked by and he had revealed his ‘special stash’.
The expression on your face grows misshapingly as you remember, you remember, you remember now. You attempt a nod, feeling your head almost loll against Sam’s shoulder, onto his chest. He seems to be holding you, one of his arms wrapped around you to keep you from dropping too far down and with a feeling of ecstasy you realize he just planted a kiss on your head, tenderly moving your hair out of your face as you try to look back up to him. the room around you is dimly lit yet still said light seems bright. Smeared, big yellow lines flowing from the sources as if daggers through your sight. It’s like static fireworks, you think, pretty but loud in a soundless way.
“Ohhh yeah” you laugh “yeah I think I do-“ your mind struggles for a bit before it grasps that that answered Sam’s question, not Dean’s. “Think it is” you correct yourself, feeling another single chuckle leave your mouth, raspy, deeper than the sound of your own voice you’re supposed to be used to, yet it sounds almost strange in your ears now.
“Yeah, yeah I feel- awe-some” you grin seeing the brothers exchange a glance, unspoken communication, so very them, and the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest grows, pushing yourself further against Sam, deliberately now. You feel how he kisses you again, his heart beating against your ear, as you narrowly collapse into him, the beat audible and strong, reassuring against the slight pinch of doubt and panic that settles over you. He’s here, nothing can happen to you while Sam is here. His shirt soft, his arms tenderly around you. Something drips down your mouth onto is clothes, your own saliva, your tongue feeling almost too thick and uncomfortable in your mouth.
“Feels weird…” you mumble gesturing weakly at the world around you, shapes making other shapes and those shapes making more new shapes, everything soft and cozy and so so warm.
For just a moment you hear how Sam’s heartbeat quickens and you can’t help but giggle at the sound.
“It’s ok” you hear him say, sounding not very sure of himself. “You don’t have to worry, I’m right here.”
He doesn’t seem to be at the point you are yet from the stuff you have all taken, the small flasks still on the table between you, only Dean seems slightly off, influenced, tho that isn’t strange with the amount he drinks and you know he already drank tonight. Sam appears fine, the only hint of anything off about him being the redness in his eyes.
“So…” you try to look up again, kiss him, cuddle with him, your hands move but you can feel how it’s almost like he’s keeping them down, holding you tight. Maybe you should enjoy this, maybe you should allow the trip to take you whole. But something is gnawing at you, something this haze in your head is making you forget.
How did you get here?
Your eyes flutter, your vision blurred, the room spins so pretty, and the way Sam squeezes you more closely, hugs you, holds you like he never wants to let go feels heavenly – being this close.
But maybe it’s only a way for him to keep you from seeing his tears.
-
Meeting Sam was probably what the realistic version of love at first sight must feel like, typical meet-cute too. The fairytale that could have fit a young girl’s dream, only you might have looked a bit disheveled, your hair uncombed, your eyes tired from staying up far too many nights playing games instead of working on your homework, procrastinating until the last minute. The halls were quite cluttered too, filled with students, kids, who were similarly all hurrying to catch the beginning of the next period, and you cursed when you hit him in your hurry to your next class. Not particularly the story you would want to tell your children later, well cats, you wanted cats, children seemed like too much work right now or ever, but the cats likely wouldn’t think the story was as romantic as it felt either. Would probably roll their eyes at the way Sam made you want to dance around your room if cats’ eyes had the ability to move like that.
“I’m so sorry” Sam apologized, him, he apologized. Not you who was actually the one to run into him and drop both of your stuff all over the ground.
“No, no, it’s ok-“ you had said, hurrying to grab the books, pens, and pencils that were now scattered all around. Sam didn’t have a lot of stuff it appeared, or maybe most of it was in his bag, and for a moment your hands brushed against each other as he tried to hand you something, to help you out. “I should have looked where I was going, it’s my fault really.” You must have been 15 then – 2 years ago – maybe just barely. Sam was slightly older but appeared so much younger to you, and the second your eyes met you felt the intense need to protect him, maybe play with your Barbies with him, if boys even liked stuff like that, if 15 was even still an acceptable age to suggest something like that. you stammered a bit, holding your stuff clumsily in your hands as you got back up, but you couldn't find the words to say to him that wouldn’t make you sound like an overeager child with an immediate crush.
luckily he had shown great and almost immediate interest in your walkman - that similarly had dropped from your hands, luckily able to withstand a few falls, it had survived worse - his eyes wide and curious like he had never seen such a thing before.
By the time the bell rang, you had almost forgotten you were supposed to be heading to class, having tried to explain the tiny machine to the boy. You both fumbled out quick goodbyes, and as you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you. In a split second, you decided to turn back, just to catch one last glimpse, and there he was, looking after you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. he didn’t even try to hide that he had been looking, just waving as you smiled and waved back.
‘call me’ he mouthed, clearly slightly jokingly, you had never seen him here before and could have doubted if that meant maybe you never would see him again, you hoped you would.
you nodded enthusiastically, as jokingly as he did but perfectly serious too ‘how?’
the smile that spread across his face might have been the cutest thing you ever saw.
That brief meeting turned into something much more. Notes started showing up in your locker—a little “hi” here, a random doodle there. By the time you officially started dating, the little “hi’s” had turned into late-night calls, sneaking out to meet him under the stars, and whispering about the future like it was yours to claim together.
Once, when you told him how much you hated your dad’s old clunker of a car, he’d promised that someday, you’d drive something amazing, something that didn’t rattle when it hit 45 mph. When he showed you his family’s collection of old cassette tapes, you swore you’d learn guitar so you could play your favorite songs together, he even let you keep one as it ‘wasn’t music his brother listened to or would miss anyway’, and ‘it made him think of you’, handing you ‘hey, Lover!’ by ‘The Daughters of Eve’ with the most awkward but mischievous glint in his eyes. It was a whirlwind of shared secrets, stolen kisses, and reckless promises that you both knew you’d keep somehow. It wasn’t just puppy love; it was like finding a missing part of yourself.
But every once in a while, that gentleness of his would shift, almost as if he was hiding a part of himself. Sometimes you’d catch him gazing off, his face shadowed, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was carrying something he’d never speak of. When you asked about it, he’d laugh it off or distract you with a kiss or a joke. But you were always curious, never one to take no for an answer.
Maybe that’s why this week went the way it did.
Maybe that’s why you have been feeling different lately, lately being recent, but it feels like this moment, here, in Sam’s arms, takes a lifetime.
-
Sam never knew eyes could look so empty. Never knew bones could feel so empty, skin, thoughts, memories, everything so devoid of every little spark he loved to look at so much, so devoid of the person he loved to share stories with, days with, nights with, of everything that had made you, you.
He could punch himself, already thinking about you in the past tense.
“I’m sorry Sammy” his brother mumbles, his voice low but steady, certain, forcing Sam to look away from you for just the shortest of moments while he feels how you play with his shirt, your mouth slightly open, still stuck on the last syllable, as if your body and mind can’t catch up with each other anymore. He squeezes your arm softly to let you know he’s right there before returning his attention to his brother sitting in the chair opposite of you two. Sam’s own eyes are red, filled with tears, something Dean can’t look at. “You know the signs, and you know the rules” he tries, seeing the defiance in Sam’s eyes make way for acceptance, then shooting back to defiance again but it doesn’t matter, there is no cure for this, no other solution, not one they knew at that time, not one they knew in time to cure you. “Same as me.”
You don’t appear to hear either of them, lost in your own little world, the depth the dead man’s blood Dean made you drink pulls you towards. They are all pretending, the only one that isn’t is Dean, soldier Dean, ‘it’s a monster so it must be killed Sammy’ Dean, using filthy nicknames as if that made it any better.
Of course Sam knew, but you had saved him, not just from that monster that then bit and bled on you but so many other times before too, just by being you.
Knowing doesn’t mean he has to like it, to accept it.
“How dare you say that to me” Sam bites back, softly, doing anything and everything in his power to keep letting you know he won’t leave your side, to keep checking up on you, all while keeping his brother away from it all, at least attempt to verbally, to keep him from hurting you further.
Now he just stares at him, and he feels how he stares right back, accusatory almost, as if he doesn’t even think about his role in this, about how if he and dad hadn’t come to get him from where you were hanging out, pulled him away when you asked him where he was going, you wouldn’t have followed him, wouldn’t have been cornered, wouldn’t have turned.
“does a human life mean nothing to you?”
Dean just thinks about the next steps, about the dangers of the situation if it isn’t taken care of right now, right this second, the machete he brought with him barely hidden beside him, its iron glistening as he almost reaches for it, seeing the energy seep out of your person. Sam wants to yell at him, but his eyes only fall on the stringed instrument a bit to his brother’s right.
“Just you wait” you had said as you struck the most off-key sounding chord Sam could have imagined “give me a week or two and you will be thinking I have been doing this for years.”
he scoffed but you just rolled your eyes as he watched you try again, and again, a triumphant look in your eyes when it finally sounded like something - for exactly 5 seconds.
“I made you a promise didn’t I?”
“Sammy…” even Dean’s hands shake as he presses them on his knees, leaning slightly forward as if explaining a terribly easy-to-grasp concept: ‘She’s not human, not anymore,’ but he can’t say it.
“Does she mean nothing to you? Do I mean nothing to you?” Sam presses. He can’t let you go, not yet, not while you’re still moving, talking – no matter how vaguely – and paying attention to him, mumbling on about your time together, about the things you will still do together, he can’t do anything but nod. “if she hadn’t come for us, for me, all of us would be dead” Sam pleads “the one thing outside of you I care about and your first instinct is to take her from me?” He doesn’t even think you realize what has happened, you’re so strong, only bickering about the headaches you were experiencing, jokingly even, so nonchalantly for such a frightening deal, for the end of your life. His eyes unfocus for a second, thinking, searching.
“what if-“ he tries, there must be something – anything – other than what will happen to you if he isn’t fast enough. “we…” he tries but he can’t find it, thinks he finds something, some dumb solution that doesn’t even sound like it could work anymore the second after he thinks of it. there needs to be something.
But when he looks up Dean is already standing, close to him now, the clicening iron in his hands “Sammy” his brother nods towards you and Sam doesn’t even dare to look now, he knows that look in his brother’s eyes, the way his fingers cling around the weapon.
No.
Your laugh seems so misplaced right now, and it only pulls him apart right there. “Feels weird…” It seems strange that those are the last words he ever hears you say to him, the slow realization seemingly seeping into your voice that this isn’t what was supposed to happen. He can’t bear to make you think like that.
“No” Sam shakes his head, holding his hand forward in a gesture that surprises both of them.
“She would want me to do it”
Dean pauses, hesitates “Sam…” but he won’t be told no, he won't allow him to hurt you, even if that means he must “no, you’re right” he can barely make his voice steady enough to speak “That’s what we do right?” he reaches his hand to take the weapon from his brother and for a second the impulse hits him to kill him and not you. “let me do it”
And his brother agrees.
-
“I love you” Sam says, looking back at you, because he means it, because he had never been the first one to say that before, because he needs you to say it back to him just one more time. But it appears you already can’t hear him anymore, your eyes rolled back, and all your muscles relaxed, as if you’re sleeping, safely in his arms like so many times before, and he can only hope it means you have drifted off, caught some dream, and God will allow you to stay in that dream forever. He had never been much of a religious child, dad forbade it, but if it meant that you were somewhere, safe and happy, he would pray to the angels to look after you for the rest of his life.
“I love you” he tries again but the only sign that you’re even still with him is the beating of your heart he feels echoed in his own chest.
She would want me to do it.
His hands tremble.
“I made you a promise didn’t I?”
“Please forgive me” his voice breaks “please-“
-
You can’t open your eyes anymore, you realize, and maybe if you had the energy in you to panic that thought would instill fear, but Sam’s body next to yours feels so warm, so comforting, until he moves.
The brothers appear to be arguing, discussing something you can’t quite make out no matter how hard you try.
If you were to try.
Which you don’t.
Does it even matter?
You just want to sleep.
“I love you”
Your mind smiles, forms the words you want so badly to return but you can’t say them, can’t speak.
Why does he sound scared?
My adorable Sam
You feel something drip down your neck, your shoulder, down, towards whichever direction is down, it feels hot, strange, a thick liquid originating from a slowly growing gash in your neck. For one single moment your mind appears to try to figure out what is happening, why the coldness of a knife is against your neck – he’s hesitating but knows it will only hurt you more -before all the sound, all the pain, all the fear, the experiencing, the life, just stops. The last thing you hear being Sam’s pleas to forgive him.
You, the alive, non-vampire you would have wanted to smirk, grabbed his crying face with both of your hands and pulled on his cheeks, asked him what he thought he needed forgiving for?
You love him. You were going to be so happy together. Nothing would ever hurt him anymore, nothing would ever hurt you anymore.
If you could just wake up.
You would tell him everything would be ok. That you would find a solution for whatever he was afraid of, together.
Your adorable Sam, he didn’t deserve to be in so much pain.
You wanted to tell him that and so much more.
You needed to tell him that.
About the way his smile brightened up your day.
About the way his presence made life worth living even with how things were at home.
How you would do anything for him because you knew he would do anything for you.
Sam Winchester would never hurt you.
He needs to know that you know that, you need to let him know you know all of that.
Only your head is too detached to do any of that.
-
“I love you.”
Your arm stretches around Sam’s neck as he pulls you close, earbuds hanging from your Walkman shared between you, one side in one of his ears, one in yours as you softly dance to the slow beats of ‘just the two of us’ and ‘hey lover!’ in that small kitchen in your mom’s house. The home is empty right now other than you and Sam, a little heaven of your own.
“I love you” he repeats your words at the same time that the words appear in the song, his smile soft, kissing you as he moves his hands to your hips, moving you both to the sound of the music, his body so close and warm against yours before he lets you go for a moment to spin you around, your earpiece falling out at the moment and Sam laughing softly as he pulls it towards him to hand it back to you, not losing the beat as he pulls you close again.
“Sorry,” he says. He hadn’t even thought about the cord for a moment, and you laugh too.
You see yourself reflected in his eyes and know he sees himself in yours, the wrinkles near his nose changing shape as you see his smile grow.
A perfect moment, a perfect memory.
Or it would have been if it hadn’t been disturbed by hands against the thick wood of the front door, out of sight but still very clear – John, coming to get Sam. Some ‘case’ he said, yelled, you never quite understood what the man meant with that.
Your eyes flick to Sam who appears to be stuck between two choices, two worlds, having to drop one to keep the other, the hunt for the vampire his father has been hunting for days now, or you, here, he seems to know that, realize that.
“Please never leave” you try, and unexpectedly he nods as you two turn back to each other and dance. In this kitchen, this tiny private heaven. Perhaps Sam prayed and the angels answered, perhaps this is what seeing your life flash before your eyes was truly like, purgatory be damned.
“you’re sure you-“ but he shushes you softly
“I will love you until the stars, until all the angels in heaven heaven itself, burn out,” he says, and the exaggeration makes you giggle.
you made him a promise, and he made you a promise, so he pulls you close, the music drowning everything else out, just leaving you two, together.
Forever.