You knew a few things about a few things. Being a hunter, you had to. But there were other things that you knew, things that had nothing to do with hunting. Like how until you met and touched your soulmate, you were colour blind. You could distinguish colours by their different shades of grey but you longed for the day your world would erupt into colour. You’d heard stories from friends and family, but you wanted to experience it yourself.
You were working a case (solo, as always) in a town a couple miles east of Sacramento. You’d decided to take a break from endlessly combing through dusty old lore books and headed to the bar across the street from your motel. You noticed the sleek, black, four door ’67 Chevvy Impala parked a few spaces from your green (?) Chevrolet Camaro. It was hot out, so you were wearing your signature boots, jeans, tank top combo, ditching the plaid, exposing your anti-possession tattoo.
As you swung open the bar door, an old man bearded man stumbled into you, momentarily throwing you off your balance. You yelled something at him in Latin (not wanting to get arrested, again), and spun around, heading inside. You were still slightly off-balanced and fell straight into and fell into something that felt like a soft wall. A huge coarse hand gripped your bare shoulder and the world exploded into colour.
You first looked down at your black tank top – no change there – but your jeans were a faded blue, not their usual drab grey. You looked up, your eyes scanning over a blue and yellow flannel shirt, into the warmest smile you’d ever seen. Your soulmate was nothing short of God-like. 6’4”, chiselled jawline and dimples, tanned skin and long, dark brown hair, and hazel eyes. Hazel eyes, bright with so many emotions at once; shock, excitement, but most of all, happiness.
“Hi” you said, breathlessly, a smile slowly creeping across your face. “Hi” he said, “my name’s Sam”. For a moment your mind drew a blank, but then you remembered. “Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” His smile faltered slightly, eyes falling to your tattoo. He looked back up again and asked “Y/F/N Y/L/N? The hunter?” You nodded, if he’d heard of you, chances are it wasn’t for a good reason. But what if…if he was…no... “You’re Sam Winchester…” you realised, your brain finally clicking. “Yeah, that’s me. I’ve heard a lot about you. Mostly from my friend Garth.” Garth, yeah, you’d worked a few cases with him here or there. He said you were one of the best. “I’ve heard a lot about you…from a lot of people…and demons.” He nodded.
You hadn’t realised how long you and Sam had been standing in front of the door, but the gruff old man from before pushed past the both of you to get back inside. You swore at him again, this time in English, but under your breath. After all this time, Sam was still gripping your shoulder, as if worrying you were going to leave. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere” you said. You both smiled and he led you to his table.
There was another man sitting at Sam’s table, his brother Dean, you assumed. Dean looked between you and Sam, then back again. “You wanna introduce me, Sammy?” Sam hesitated, wondering whether or not to introduce you to his jackass of a brother. He decided he would. “Dean, this is Y/F/N Y/L/N.” Dean frowned. “Yeah, the hunter.” Sam answered before Dean could even ask. “Wait, are you… do you…with the colours?” You answered “Yeah, apparently. It’s all still a bit of a shock.” Dean stood up, walked round the table and pulled you into a tight hug. When he pulled back, he said “You’re family now, Y/N” he gestured for you and San to sit. “Now, I’m gonna get us another round, that girl’s number,” he said pointing to a blond in cut-off shorts and cowboy boots “while you are gonna figure out this case together so you two can…you know…fondue.” He winked at you whilst Sam flipped him off. You laughed, shaking your head and then looked at Sam. “Nice colour shirt” you said.
Dean came back a while later. “Beers, boom.” He slammed three bottles on the table. “Number, boom. Her name’s Holli, with an I.” You rolled your eyes at the slip written on with pink glitter pen. Dean pointed at you and Sam. “Case?” He asked. “Not boom.” You replied. In all fairness, you and Sam had spent the past 5 minutes making jokes about colours, most of them along the lines of ‘Fifty shades of grey’. “Fine. What do you think it is?” Dean asked, bringing you back to the present. You took a sip of your beer and leaned back in your chair. “Bad news: I have no fucking idea. Good news: I have a shit ton of lore books in my room across the street. Oh and Wi-Fi.” Sam stared at you. “You get internet in your room? The guy at the front desk wouldn’t give us the password.” You laughed and said “A smile and a low cut top can go a long way.” Dean laughed. “Amen to that, sister.”
As soon as you and the boys finished up in the bar, the three of you headed across the street to your motel room. You unlocked the door and you and Dean went inside (Sam had gone to get his laptop.) “Wow, you got a good room. No funky stains, that’s a win.” You grabbed your laptop from your duffel and turned it on. “Like I said: low cut top and a smile. Does wonders for any girl.” You looked up at Dean who was sprawled out on your bed looking through the lore books. “You’re awesome.” You opened the tabs you’d saved as ‘Interesting’ and said “I know.”
It didn’t take long until Sam joined the two of you and you all spent a couple of hours in almost complete silence, except for the occasional click or page turn or exasperated sigh. When your laptop died, you shut the lid and picked up a lore book. You began pacing up and down the room, book in hand. After a while you picked up another book and sat down. “Hey. Look at this.” You turned one of the books around to Sam. He read the page you’d left open and then he checked the leather journal next to him. “Hey, Dean. Dad ever say anything about-?” he stopped short of finishing his question. You turned to look at Dean. Asleep on your bed surrounded by old books. “What a lightweight.” You said.
Not long after that, you said “Alright, I’m calling it.” Sam had already closed his laptop. You looked at your phone – 12am. “No offense, I thought you’d call it long before Dean.” To be honest, you thought so too. You’d heard stories about the Winchesters. Legends more like. They certainly lived up to expectations, even exceeding them maybe, but they were still people too, with problems and limits. Sam looked at you. “Where are you gonna sleep?” You thought about it and cast a sidelong glance in Dean’s direction. No chance of him moving anytime soon. “I’ll just take the couch. Wouldn’t be the first time.” You looked in the direction of the beat up old couch, debating how much it would hurt in the morning. “No, Dean’s in your bed, sleep in his. Probably won’t even notice.” You raised your eyebrow questioningly. “Seriously?” you asked Sam. He nodded, standing up and taking his laptop and his jacket to the door. “Definitely.” You thanked Sam and told him you wouldn’t be long, you just had to grab some stuff first. He left and you picked up your phone and your earphones. Oh, and your pistol. You left, closing the door as softly as humanly possible.
Sam had left his motel room’s door wide open and you walked straight in and closed it behind you. “Shit” he said, surprised. “Didn’t even hear you.” You must have walked silently again, completely unintentionally. It happened now and again, what with you being a hunter as long as you have. “Sorry.” Sam had already taken claim of the bed closest to the door, so you walked past him. You slipped your pistol under the pillow, unlaced your boots and tied your Y/H/C hair up into a high ponytail. You hadn’t realised that Sam had been watching you until you turned to look at him, and when you did he looked away quickly and rubbed the back of his neck. “So” he said, turning back to look at you. “So” you said. What else could you say? You and Sam sat in silence, each trying to think of something to say. Oh my, feel’s just like I don’t try, look so good I might die, all I know is everybody loves me! OneRepublic’s ‘Everybody loves me’ started blaring from your phone. Your ringtone. Way to kill the mood. “I should probably get that…” Sam agreed and you answered it. “Garth. Hey……..No, yeah, it’s good to hear from you……Yeah, I am kinda in the middle of something………Yeah, that’s still my ringtone…..Shut up……No, we don’t know what it is yet…….Yes, I said we……..Me and the Winchesters……Yes I’m sure……..Did you call for a reason or……….Well thanks for checking in Garth……No, I’m fine. Bye Garth.” You hung up the phone and looked over at Sam who was trying not to laugh. “No, it’s fine, you can laugh.” And he did. For longer than you’d expected. When he finally stopped he asked “Seriously?! Everybody loves me?!” You sat on the edge of the bed and said “Yeah, it’s a good song. OneRepublic are great, they’re no Fall Out Boy, but still.” Sam raised an eyebrow at you. “Fall Out Boy?! Who are you, a teenage girl?!” You kicked him playfully in the leg and said “Uh-uh, and what do you know about music?!” “Touché.” He replied.
You eventually fell asleep. It was easier than it had been in the past couple of years, maybe because you heard Sam’s slow breathing and occasional soft snore. It was nice…
A scalpel zippered your side open. You screamed in pain as your torturer laughed. A knife was stabbed into your thigh and twisted. You screamed again. You were tied down and bloody. You kept screaming, he kept laughing. Your throat was raw and your voice scratchy. “Y/N.” No, this isn’t what happened…. “Y/N, Y/N!”
Sam was shaking you now, yelling your name. Your eyes snapped open and you realised you were screaming. You looked into Sam’s eyes. Hazel…..Colours……Soulmate……Sam……Everything hit you suddenly and you couldn’t breathe. “Y/N! Hey!” You focussed on Sam’s voice and gulped in air. When you could breathe again, you layed down in your bed. You didn’t realise you were crying. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re okay now.” You’d grown so used to dealing with your nightmares alone; it surprised you when Sam got into bed with you and wrapped you in his arms. You didn’t shy away from his touch, though, and balled your hands into his t-shirt. He stroked your hair until you stopped crying, he told you that it was okay, that he had you now and nothing bad was going to happen to you as long as he was around. You fell asleep before you could think about times when he wasn’t around….
You woke up, again, with one of Sam’s arms draped over your side, holding your back and keeping you close to him. Your head was on his chest and you could hear the beat of his heart. You heard the lock in the door click. You moved to reach your pistol, trying not to wake Sam in the process. The door swung open and you had your gun pointed at the person who’d broken in. Dean, damn him. “Wow, sorry Y/N. Didn’t know you two were busy. “ By this time, Sam was awake. “What the hell, Dean!” He asked. Dean held his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, little bro. Thought you might have been kidnapped.” Sam shook his head in disbelief and Dean left, laughing. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Sam mumbled, ruffling his hair. He rubbed his forearm across his face. You ran a hand through your hair, the ponytail having come out at some point in the night. You grabbed your stuff and told Sam “I’m gonna take a shower.” You walked past Dean, who was still laughing, and punched his arm, hard. That shut him up.
After a shower in your own room, you dried off and wrapped the white motel towel around yourself. You began to look for your clothes. And then it dawned on you…they were in your bag. Fuck dammit. You unlocked the bathroom door and poked your head out, trying to see if you had any unexpected guests. You thanked God that you didn’t. You crept out slowly and rushed to the side of your bed, where you’d left your rucksack. You picked out a blue tank top with blue and green plaid, and laid them on your bed. You dug further into your rucksack and found a pair of black leggings. Thank fuck you seemed to know what colour went well with what, even when you were colour blind. You put the leggings on your bed and got dressed, worrying the entire time that a Winchester might walk in (neither of them did.) You dried your hair and went to get your shoes from the boys’ room.
You opened their room’s door, thankfully it was still unlocked, and spotted your shoes immediately. Right where you’d left them. You assumed Sam was in the shower as the Impala wasn’t outside and walked across the room to your shoes. You sat on the edge of the bed and tied your laces, your eyes absentmindedly wandering across all the items in the room. You almost jumped when the bathroom door opened and a semi-naked and dripping wet Sam Winchester walked out. He looked almost as surprised to see you, sitting there, with your low-cut top and tight trousers. You couldn’t help but stare at his perfectly tanned torso. You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, presumably turning them bright red. You noticed you were still staring at him and looked away quickly. You started an apology and began to explain what you’d been doing. You could feel Sam staring at you as you left. You didn’t realise it, but he’d been smiling at you the entire time.
Just as you were opening your door, still buried in your eternal pit of shame, Dean showed up behind you with coffee and food, of sorts. You stared at him for a second, really looked, for the first time. You noticed how he was like a giant child, extremely excitable and his smile was infectious. But you noticed something else, something deeper, buried by the smiles and sarcasm. He was vulnerable. Not weak, never weak. You could see it, deep in those big green eyes, he was tired and scared. But like other hunters, he couldn’t show it, he had other people to protect. And according to Garth, he would always protect everyone else and whatever happened to him was worth it, was what he deserved. You knew that look, smiles hiding tired eyes. You’d seen it enough in the mirror. Hunting does that to a person. You nodded at him, and the two of you walked into your room.
Dean, once again, took his place on your bed. You noticed how he sprawled across it, quite like Sam. Sam would perch on the edge of tables, long legs swinging off the side, and Dean would see how much room he could take up on one piece of furniture. You took your coffee from Dean and took a long sip. “Long night, huh?” You nodded. “I didn’t know how you take your coffee, apparently not everyone drinks it black.” You took another sip. “As long as it’s coffee, I couldn’t really give a shit. But hey, different strokes, for different folks, I guess.” Dean nodded as if he understood you entirely. You’d missed enough hours of sleep to take your coffee as it came, no complaints. The way a hunter should.
You and Dean sit around for a moment or two, waiting for Sam. But before Sam shows up, you blink and a dark-haired, trench-coated man materialises in front of you. You jump out of your seat and point your pistol at him. “WHO ARE YOU?!”You yell at him. The man seems slightly taken-aback and looks to Dean for support. You look from Dean to the man and back again. “Do you know him?” you ask Dean, yet your eyes never leave this blue-eyed stranger. “Cas, you wanna introduce yourself?” Dean asks this man. He seems like he’s had to do this more than once. The man –Cas?- shakes his head. Dean rolls his eyes so far back into his head, you think he might be having a seizure. “Y/N, this is Castiel. He’s an Angel of the Lord and he’s our friend.” You lower your pistol slightly and your stare falters as you look at Dean out of the corner of your eye. He seems to trust this man, maybe even a bit more; you can’t quite put your finger on it. At this moment Sam walks in. “Oh, hey Cas.” Sam says, seemingly ignoring everyone else in the room. Sam then stops, mid-step, and turns to look at you. “Oh, Y/N, this is Cas—“he goes to say more but Dean interrupts him, holding up a hand and saying “Already done that Sammy.” Sam then nods and sits down at the table. “Does that normally work? You say crazy crap like that and people just go with that?!Seriously?!” Dean thought the question over for a moment and then responded with a simple; “Yeah, pretty much.” You shook your head in disbelief. “Wow.”
As you were sitting at the table, you felt Castiel staring at you. He was squinting, his head slightly tilted to one side.Then you realised he wasn’t the only one staring at you. You looked up and all three men looked away far too quickly for it to be natural. You rubbed your hand across your entire face. “Where do we go from here?” you asked. All three boys looked back at you and you realised that they were all pretty much strangers. “Well, there’s no connection between victims, we can’t find anything about it in the lore, we’ve talked to the witnesses, but they don’t know anything.” Sam said, running over everything you’d done. Dean’s eyes disappeared into his head again as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe this is a complete bust and an entire waste of time. You owe me ten bucks Sammy.” Sam seemed shocked and slightly outraged. “What, why?” Dean grinned “Because I told you there was nothing here.” Sam shot Dean one of the bitchfaces Garth had told you about. “Maybe so, but I don’t recall making a bet.” Dean stood up, clearly enjoying pissing his brother off. “Oooh ‘recall’, college boy thinks he’s so smart.” Dean said, bringing out a southern accent at the end of the sentence. “It’s a normal piece of normal people’s vocabulary.” It seemed as though Sam and Dean had forgotten that they weren’t alone. You looked over at Cas as the boys kept arguing. He was staring at you again. “Alright, alright.” You said standing up between the boys, raising your voice slightly. They both stopped immediately. “Jeez. We have a job to do. “ you said.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” You said looking out the window. The entire bar was on fire across the street. You ran outside, the boys in pursuit. There were three fire engines and a couple of cop cars parked a little further down the street. All four of you ran through the crowds of people, most of them, you assumed, were motel workers. You found a young woman, the blonde from the bar, Holli, wrapped in a blanket. Her face was smeared with black soot. Some ambulance men tried to hold you back but you and Sam showed him your badges, Agents Griffin and Blake, respectively. Dean and Cas seemed to have got distracted and wandered off somewhere. “What happened?” you asked her. She seemed distant but still managed to answer you. “There was a man. He had a beard, he was at the bar yesterday.” You tensed. The man who’d knocked into you. Sam noticed you’d tensed and had tensed himself, turning and looking around to see what had startled you. “He…..he didn’t even have a lighter,” Holli continued, “he just clicked his fingers and it went up in flames. I barely got out.” You and Sam both looked at each other sceptically. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe her, you both wondered if the murders and the fire were connected. “Did he say anything? You know, before the fire?” Sam asked. Holli thought for a second and then replied “Yeah….Something about a Winchester or something… Sorry, that probably means nothing. Look, if you don’t mind, Agents….” You and Sam nodded. Sam seemed on edge, rightly so.
You found Dean, who said Cas had had to go somewhere. You told him what’d happened, and you all agreed to get the hell out of there. You made it back to your motel room, and jumped when the man was standing, right there in front of you. He smelled like ash and smoke. You pulled your gun on him, but he knocked it out of your hands and slammed you against the wall. You felt the shitty plaster crack slightly behind you. Either it was that, or you’d broken a bone. You were winded when you hit the wall, every bit of air being sucked out of your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to call for Sam, but no sound came out when you opened your mouth. Your eyes began to water. Not because you were crying, the room was incredibly hot and felt like it would burst into flames at any second. You tried to move, but you got pushed further back into the wall. “Winchesters. Where are they?” Even if you could answer the guy, you wouldn’t. You just hoped Sam and Dean were smart enough to leave without you. Of course, they weren’t. Sam came rushing in, your name on the tip of his tongue, and then ended up slammed into the wall opposite you. “Ahh, Sam, how nice of you to join us.” Sam looked as if he was about to say something smart, but he too seemed to be searching for air in the room. He looked over at you, with worried eyes. You smiled at him, but neither of you could think of a way out.
Dean walked in a few seconds later, and was thrown into the wall. He landed a few inches from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your gun, just a few centimetres away from Sam’s foot. You caught his eye, and gestured with your head to your gun. He seemed to understand and you knew you had to keep this guy distracted. Luckily, you were breathing again, and began talking to the man. “Who are you?” You asked. “Me? Oh honey, I’m your worst nightmare.” He said. What a jackass, didn’t even answer the question. “Oh, see I’ve met a lot of people who say that. And I always end up kicking their ass.” The monster laughed for a while. “So what, you’re a hunter too. And what, might I ask, made you stoop so low as to work with the Winchesters. No, wait, let me guess. You’re fucking one of them right?” He seemed to find this hilarious, but you weren’t really bothered by him, you just hoped to God he wouldn’t turn around and see how close Sam was to getting your gun into his hand. “ You know what, bite me, asshole.” You said bitterly. This seemed to piss the dude off. Great. He came incredibly close to you, so close it made your eyes water again. He pulled a knife, a flashy one, the kind that’s shitty in a fight, but can still cut you up good and proper. If your victim’s still. He sliced from your collarbone down to your chest. He didn’t cut deep enough for it to be dangerous, but enough so that it hurt like a bitch. You didn’t scream, though. You kept your eyes trained on the spot of the wall just above Sam’s head. Then there were three quick shots, the heat was gone and you were covered in blood. The pressure disappeared and you collapsed to the floor.
You woke up. Your chest hurt so much, you almost blacked out again. You felt another hand holding yours. “Sam?” you asked, your voice cracking. He looked up almost immediately. “Hey.” He said. You looked around. You were in your motel room, but there was no blood, or body. You wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. Sam noticed you staring and decided to explain. “Dean stitched you up and took the dude into a field and torched him. It’s over.” It was only now that you noticed the stitches, neat and concise. “Cas’ll fix you up when he gets here, but until then…” You nodded. “Thank you.” you said. Sam shook his head. “It’s the least we could do. How did you know those bullets would work on him?” You laughed slightly, until it hurt. Then you said “The whole thing seemed kind of witchy, so I kinda guessed. Hoped is probably a better word.” Sam nodded. Then he got up to leave. “Oh, yeah sorry, I’m gonna call Dean, see where he is.” You nodded. Jeez, everyone keeps nodding. DO YOU KNOW HOW TO SAY YES? OR EVEN OKAY? You yelled at yourself, in your head of course. He went to leave, but the door was locked. He panicked. He threw his shoulder against the door, but it still wouldn’t budge. You stood, your legs were shaking, but you managed to make it to the door. “What the actual fuck?” you asked. “You know, Y/N, I’m glad you asked.” Sam looked at you, and back to the door. “Dean?” Sam asked. “You are incredibly smart, Sammy.” Dean said. You could practically hear his smirk. “You need to work on your escape act though. Now, I know you’re both probably wondering why I have you locked in there. Here’s why: YOU NEED TO TALK ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP, ASSHOLES!!!” Dean yelled. Sam, who had his ear to the door, almost fell over, bless him. “And I’ve already told Cas not to bail you out.” You sighed, and then began yelling a very colourful stream of swearwords at the door. They were incredibly diverse, even for a hunter. “You done yet?” Dean asked, after you’d finished. You considered punching the door, but realised that would just make the situation worse. “Yeah.” You said.
You and Sam sat on your bed, your knees just touching. It was nice to feel him, to know that he was real and he was there. “Alright, Dean’s only gonna let us out if we talk. So….” You said, trailing off at the end. Sam ruffled his hair and put his head in his hands. “You know, I never really understood why people were in relationships with people who weren’t their soul mates. Not until I became a hunter. And then I realised….It’s because people don’t like being alone. And just because we’re soul mates, doesn’t mean we have to be together.” Sam looked up at you with wide eyes, but you continued. “I know a few people who lived and loved people who weren’t their soul mate and they were happy. I know people who never met their soul mate and I know people who weren’t born colour blind like the rest of us. I also know people who met someone they loved and only over time did they see colours. I guess, what I’m trying to say is…. If you don’t want to be with me….That’s cool. No big deal. At least I’m not colour blind anymore.” Sam kept staring at you, his hazel eyes scanning every inch of your face. “Y/N,” he said softly, “do you want to be with me?” Yes, of course you did. But you were both hunters and you knew it wouldn’t end well. “Sam,” you said, equally as softly. Sam shook his head and stood up. “No, Y/N, I get it. It’s not safe, for us to be together, as hunters.” His voice broke, just at the end of the sentence, in the way that made your heart break. “Sam….” You started, but you didn’t quite know how to finish. “No, it’s okay. Really, I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look at you. You stood up and walked silently behind him. “You don’t know me. I don’t think you’d want to be with me.” He turned to look at you, tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “I know that….that I won’t always be there to protect you. But you don’t need protecting. You’re a hunter, you work better alone. I know that if we were together, I could lose you on a hunt and that would be on me. And I can’t do that. Not again.” Tears started rolling down your cheeks. “I know that I can’t lose you, Y/N.” You couldn’t bear to look at him. “Sam, I’ve lost people too. And that’s on me. My whole family are dead because of me. I couldn’t save them. And now, I try and save as many people as I can to make up for that. But I never will. I… I can’t….I won’t lose you too.” You were both crying now, and you shared that feeling of loss and guilt. “Sam, I didn’t say I didn’t want to be with you. I said if you didn’t want me, I’d understand.” Sam smiled. “So you do want to be with me?” You smiled with him, wiping away your tears. “Yeah, more than anything.”
He took two giant steps towards you, grabbed your face in his hands, and kissed you. He was soft and gentle and when the two of you pulled apart, the world seemed brighter. You stood like that for a while, close, with your hands tangled in each other’s hair. At some point Sam rested his forehead on yours. You were vaguely aware of time passing around the two of you, but it didn’t matter. In those precious moments, it was just you and him, and that was all that mattered. Until Dean walked in. “You guys good?” he asked. You both nodded. YOU KNOW THE WORD YES. DO US ALL A FAVOUR AND USE IT ONCE IN A WHILE. You yelled at yourself mentally again. Then Cas showed up, touched your forehead, and the gash and stitches disappeared. “Thanks, man.” You said. Dean pulled Cas from the room and you and Sam looked at each other again. But this time it was different. Sam walked towards you much faster than before, and kissed you more roughly. His arms ran up and down your back, sending shivers down your spine. Your hands worked on their own, one moving to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his smooth hair, and the other moving to his shoulder. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, if that was possible.
He slid your plaid off of your shoulders, lips still on yours, and let it fall to the floor. He grabbed the hem of your tank top and pulled it over your head. His lips were straight back on yours, after allowing himself some time to rake his hazel eyes over your exposed body. You were left standing there in only your jeans and your bra. His hands made their way up to your face whilst he kicked off his shoes. You unbuttoned his plaid and pushed it off of his broad shoulders. After what Garth had told you, you knew not to expect to see his skin until he shed his 87, slight exaggeration, layers. Apparently it was a Winchester thing. You were about to pull his white undershirt off, but he picked you up and spun you round. He gently placed you on the bed, pulled his shirt off and then put himself above you. His lips crashed into yours again and you allowed you fingers to dig into his back. Your legs were spread wide but the both of you were still wearing jeans. And that’s how Dean found you, that motherfucker. He left as quickly as he’d come in. You and Sam looked away from the door, back to each other. And began laughing. “What a dick.” You stated. “Yeah, I’m sorry about him. He doesn’t understand boundaries.” Sam said. He was still on top of you, his hair falling in his eyes. You swept it behind his ear and said “I don’t normally do this. Like, a day after meeting someone.” Sam’s smile faltered, but he seemed to understand what you were saying. “So, (Y/N), tell me everything.”
And so you did. You and Sam lay there for hours, you talking and him listening. When you were done with your life story, he told you his. Demons and angles, good versus bad, and how he and his brother were caught right in the middle of it. At some point you had gotten two beers for yourselves, and when he was at the end of his story, you raised your bottle and said “To life, the best and worst thing a person can have.” Sam raised his bottle to yours, tapping its neck to your bottle, with a satisfying clink. Sam looked down and said “You know, I did miss a bit of my story off.” You looked at him, eyebrows raised expectantly, silently willing him to continue. “I met this girl. She was incredible, amazing and smart and funny and kind. And I never thought I’d find her. But I’m so glad I did.” He looked up at you now, his hazel eyes shining in the light. “You didn’t tell me you met Scarlett Johansson!” You said sarcastically, opting to get out of an awkward situation with a joke. Sam laughed. “I’m serious, you know.” He said. He looked at you as if you were the most important person who had ever lived. “No, I know. I do that. Make jokes when a situation gets serious, that is. It’s a real problem.”
It took some time, but eventually, you and Sam got married. And it was a beautiful ceremony, mostly because Dean almost cried. And then Cas and Dean got married, which everyone saw coming. It may not have started well, but your life got pretty good when you met Sam. Life was good, until it wasn’t.
It was just like any other day. You and Sam were on the trail of an extremely powerful witch, and Dean and Cas were probably having sex all over the bunker. You had some news for Sam, but thought it could wait until after the hunt. You’d tracked the witch down to an old abandoned barn. See, the witch was going after beautiful women, so of course you were bait. You were playing it a little reckless, but you knew Sam was right behind you, and you knew you were safe. Or at least you thought you were. You could see Sam out of the corner of your eye and you lost your focus. The witch shot a spell, a hot ball of bright red light. Sam jumped in front of you, taking the blow, for you. You shot at the witch, probably more times than necessary, and fell on your knees next to Sam. “Hey, hey. Let’s get you out of here. Can you walk?” you asked. Sam nodded weakly and you picked him up under his arm, he walked leaning on you for support. It wasn’t really the most important thing to you at that moment, but the colours were fading, slowly, starting at the edge of your vision, leaving Sam in full colour at the centre.
You and him made it outside and he fell against your Camaro. “Sam?! Hey! What the hell was that?!” you asked, panicked. He laughed, painfully and whispered “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?” You could tell he was fading, but you couldn’t lose him. “Sam, you’re not bleeding. I don’t know what to do.” You admitted. “Just stay with me, please.” That sounded like a dying man’s last wish. “No, no. We need to get you to Cas. Please Sam, I can’t….I won’t lose you, not now.” Sam shook his head. “No, (Y/N), I need you to know, I love you. Look after Dean and…don’t be offended…but I don’t want to see you any time soon, you understand?” His voice was barely a whisper. “Sam, I love you too, but—“ Sam interrupted you. “Hey, that’s the shirt you had on when we first got together. It’s my favourite.” he said, referring to the blue and green plaid shirt you were wearing. “Mine too.” You replied, choking back tears. “Sam, I’m so sorry. I’m….I’m….I’m pregnant.” But he was gone. His eyes faded to grey, like the rest of your world. You couldn’t breathe; it was like when you were slammed against the wall when you first met the boys. All the air was gone from your lungs, but that wasn’t all. You’d lost him. The one person you swore you’d never let go. And he’d died for you. You started crying, no sound coming out, and then it started raining. How cliché. You called Dean. He picked up on the second ring. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong? Are you crying?” “It’s Sam,” you choked out, “he’s….he’s gone. I don’t know what to do. Please don’t hate me.” Dean asked you where you were and you told him. It didn’t take long for Dean and Cas to get there. And when they did, Dean almost collapsed, but kept a strong expression plastered across his features. Castiel had to physically pry you away from Sam’s cold body and you fell into his arms. You sobbed into his well-worn trench coat, your tears mixing with the rain. It was grey. Your whole world was grey again.
Nine months, and a lot of tears later, you gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. On Sam’s birthday, the 2nd of May. You missed him, a lot, and your son looked just like him, so much so that it hurt. You guessed that he had Sam’s eyes. They were bright, much unlike yours. Your eyes had lost their sparkle long ago, right when you’d lost him. You loved your son, just like you’d loved Sam, and when you were asked the name of your baby, there was only one answer: “Sam.”