Sam Winchester Imagine - Blog Posts

Reluctant Guardian

I know its been a while and I'm sorry :( of course, if you have any requests, mine are still open and welcome!! Now onto Sammy Winchester!!!

Smile Cute GIF - gif used

Sam Winchester x Reader

No pronouns used for Reader

Summary: After Sam gets injured on a hunt alone, Castiel sends a trustworthy angel to heal him. There's a catch though, the reader and Sam seem to butt heads all the time.

Reluctant Guardian

Sam Winchester had been on the trail of a nest of vampires for days. With Dean off handling a haunting in another town, Sam insisted he could manage this one on his own. But now, as he leaned against a tree in the dense forest, clutching his bleeding side, he wasn't so sure.

The vampire lay dead at his feet, its head severed from its body. But the satisfaction of victory was overshadowed by the pain radiating from the deep gash in his side. He needed help, and he needed it fast.

"Castiel," Sam muttered as he fumbled for his phone. He dialed the angel’s number, hoping against hope that his friend would be available.

On the other end, Castiel was in the midst of a heated argument with several other angels. The celestial conflict was growing more intense by the day, leaving him stretched thin.

"Sam?" Castiel's voice came through, strained but concerned.

"Cas, I’m hurt. I need you to heal me," Sam gasped, his vision starting to blur.

"I'm… I'm tied up with something crucial," Castiel replied, glancing around at the other angels. "But I'll get someone to you."

Before Sam could protest, Castiel ended the call and turned to the angel beside him. "I need you to go to Sam. He's hurt."

The angel, you, narrowed your eyes. "Why me? Surely there are others who can—"

"There's no time to argue," Castiel interrupted, his voice stern. "Go now."

You crossed your arms defiantly. "Cas, I am in the middle of handling other pressing matters. Why can't Balthazar or even Uriel take care of this?"

Castiel’s gaze hardened. "Balthazar is dealing with a demon incursion in Europe, and Uriel is… well, Uriel. You're the best option right now."

"Best option, or just the most convenient?" you shot back. "You always do this, Cas. Every time Sam or Dean gets themselves into trouble, I'm the one you call. Why?"

"Because I trust you," Castiel replied, his tone softening but still firm. "And because I know you care, even if you won’t admit it."

You looked away, the truth of his words hitting harder than you wanted to acknowledge. "This isn’t about me caring. It’s about you using me as a crutch for your human friends."

"They’re more than just human friends," Castiel said quietly. "They’re family."

The word 'family' struck a chord. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fine. I’ll go. But this is the last time, Cas."

Castiel gave a small, grateful nod. "Thank you."

With a heavy sigh, you vanished from Castiel's side and appeared in the forest where Sam was barely holding on to consciousness.

"Sam Winchester," you muttered under your breath, annoyed at the task. "Always getting into trouble."

Sam looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. "You’re not Cas."

"No, I’m not," you replied curtly, kneeling beside him. "But I’m here to save your sorry hide, so hold still."

As you placed your hands over his wound, a warm light emanated from your palms, healing the gash almost instantly. Sam winced, then sighed in relief as the pain subsided.

"Thanks," he said, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and confusion.

"You're welcome," you replied, standing up. "Though I don’t understand why Castiel sends me to you every time you get yourself into trouble."

"Maybe because he knows you’re capable," Sam suggested, standing up slowly. "Or maybe he enjoys seeing us butt heads."

You scoffed. "Or maybe he just enjoys seeing you get under my skin."

Sam, despite his condition, couldn’t help but grin. "It's mutual, you know. You have a knack for pushing my buttons."

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you," you shot back, crossing your arms. "Why do you always insist on taking these solo missions? You know you can't handle everything on your own."

"I'm perfectly capable," Sam retorted, the defensive tone in his voice unmistakable. "And I don’t need an angel babysitter."

"Clearly, you do," you said, your voice rising in frustration. "You were about to bleed out here, Sam! Do you have any idea how reckless that is?"

"Reckless?" Sam's eyes flared with anger. "I was handling it. I had it under control."

"You call this under control?" you snapped, gesturing to his bloodstained clothes. "You’re lucky I got here in time."

Sam opened his mouth to argue but then closed it, taking a deep breath. "Look, I appreciate what you did. I do. But you don’t get to lecture me about taking risks. It's part of the job."

"Taking risks is one thing. Getting yourself killed is another," you replied, your tone softening slightly. "I don't enjoy seeing you like this, Sam. I care too much to keep watching you hurt yourself."

There was a stunned silence as the words hung in the air. You immediately regretted letting your true feelings slip, and Sam's eyes widened in surprise.

"You… you care about me?" Sam asked, his voice softening.

You looked away, feeling vulnerable. "I… I didn't mean it like that."

"But you do care," Sam said, stepping closer despite the lingering pain. "I didn’t know."

"Well, now you do," you replied curtly, trying to regain your composure. "Just… try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

Sam hesitated, then took a deep breath. "You know, you're not the only one who cares."

You blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"I care about you too," Sam confessed, his voice steady. "Probably more than I should. And it's not just because you save my life. It's because you're there, even when we argue, even when things get tough. You're there."

You stared at him, feeling a mix of emotions. "Sam…"

"Look, I'm not saying it's easy," Sam continued, his eyes locked on yours. "But I think there's something here, between us. Something worth fighting for."

You felt your defenses crumbling. "I… I never thought you felt that way."

"Well, I do," Sam said softly. "And I think maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out together."

For a moment, you both stood there, the forest around you silent. Then you nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. "Okay. Let's try."

Sam smiled back, relief and hope evident in his eyes. "Yeah. Let's."

You nodded curtly before vanishing, leaving Sam alone in the forest once more. As he started making his way back to the motel, he couldn't help but feel that despite the friction, a deeper connection had been forged between the two of you—a reluctant but undeniable bond that might just be the beginning of something more.

Christmas Tides

i have an early Christmas present for you!!

Sam Winchester X Reader

No Pronouns used!!

Summary: Sam Winchester surprises the reader with a heartfelt gift and invites them to share a quiet and cozy night together away from hunting. The two exchange stories, laughter, and meaningful glances. As snow falls outside, they find a moment of respite and connection, sealed with a sweet kiss under the mistletoe.

Christmas Tides

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the bunker, not a creature was stirring, not even a monster. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.

Sam Winchester was nestled all snug in his bed, visions of hunts dancing in his head. You, his favorite partner in all things supernatural, were in the room next door, dreaming of a peaceful Christmas and maybe a little more.

The Winchesters had faced many dangers and foes, but tonight they were taking a break from hunting those crows. The Impala was parked, the weapons were stashed, as the brothers settled in for a much-needed rest.

As the clock struck midnight, a soft knock on your door woke you from sleep. You opened it slowly, wondering who it could be. To your surprise, there stood Sam, a small smile on his face, holding a cup of hot cocoa, a gift wrapped with grace.

"Hey," he whispered, his hazel eyes warm, "I thought we could enjoy a quiet night, just you and me, away from the monsters and the things we can't see."

You grinned in response, inviting him in. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the Christmas tree's shimmering bin. Sam handed you the cocoa, its warmth seeping through the cup. You took a sip, the rich flavor lifting your spirits up.

"I got you a little something," he confessed, handing over the gift with a bashful smile. You unwrapped it carefully, finding a pendant with a charm—a tiny silver angel, a token of his charm.

"It's beautiful," you said, touched by the gesture. Sam blushed, his cheeks turning a shade of rosy red. The room was filled with a warm, cozy glow, as the two of you sat side by side on the bed.

The conversation flowed like a gentle stream, tales of Christmases past and dreams that did gleam. Sam's laughter echoed through the room, a sound that chased away any hint of gloom. You shared stories and exchanged glances, creating memories that time enhances.

Outside, snow began to fall, a soft blanket covering the ground, muffling the world's sound. The two of you watched the flakes dance, a moment of peace, a sweet romance. In that quiet night, under the Christmas light, something shifted, a connection so right.

As the clock struck two, you exchanged goodnights, knowing that tomorrow brought new fights. Yet, for now, in this silent night, Sam Winchester and you found a moment of respite. Underneath the mistletoe, he pressed a gentle kiss, sealing the night with a promise of bliss.

So, in the bunker, where dangers reside, love blossomed during the Christmas tide. Sam and you, a duo so true, faced the darkness with hearts anew.

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i just love him so much 🥺

A Kiss from Heaven

Summary: (Y/N) has grown to love Sam throughout all the time that she has known him. When Castiel breaks down the wall keeping Sam from his memories from Hell, she notices that something is wrong with him. One night, she tries to distract him from the memories. 

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Finishing washing the last dish, I put it in the rack and looked out the window. It looked like Dean was still working on his beloved baby, while Bobby sat in a chair and watched. He was nursing a beer in one hand and was looking at the newspaper in another hand. He was obviously looking for another hunt again. I turned around and picked up the towel laying on my left and started drying my hands. 

My eyes drifted over to the dinner table, where Sam chose to sit at. His eyes were closed, while his head fell forward, almost about to hit the table. He’s been up since this morning trying to study for what was happening with Cas. He was studying so hard that he was falling asleep. I sighed and put the towel. I made my way to the table and started shutting all the books that were open on the table. I stopped for a moment and let my eyes drift over to Sam again. His head was now on the table, while his arms rested beside him. He looked so peaceful as he slept. It was like as if all of his worries and fears that ever tormented him washed away and disappeared. Like they no longer were allowed to do so for as long as he was asleep. 

I walked a little more closer to him and stopped at the edge of his chair. My arm reached out and grazed the top of his head. My fingers making their way through a few strands of his hair, until I came to the end of one and pushed it behind his ear. He was so beautiful- every inch of him. I leaned forward so that our faces were level to each other. Leaning in, I placed one hand on the char taken by him and the other on the table, steadying myself. Lips found his forehead and lingered there for a moment. Slowly, I leaned back up and smiled. “I love you Samuel and you’ll never even know” I whispered in a hushed tone, careful not to wake him. 

I tiptoed back, so I would not wake him and turned to make my way into the living room. I should stop distracting myself and actually try to get some sleep tonight. As I walked through the halls and up the stairs to the room I was staying in, my thoughts went back to Sam. I remembered a few days ago when Cas put him in a coma like state. During that time, he was thrashing and moving around as if something was hurting him. I had to admit, it scared me more than it should have. Maybe that was because I have grown to love Sam more than I should have. I loved Dean like a brother and Bobby like a father, but my feelings to Same were way different. I had fallen for the clumsy moose and I wanted to be his happily ever after. Or as Dean puts it, his apple pie life. 

Thoughts of Sam rushed through my mind. His smile was wide and clear. The only actual time that I have seen Sam actually smile was when he got his soul back. It was so genuine and made me want to smile. Just thinking about the memory now was making my lips curl up into a smile. Another memory popped into my mind. This one took place when Cas zapped us back to the old west. I remember Dean was so happy that he would actually get to experience such an event, but when he got there, it wasn’t as he pictured it. I remember that he made Sam dress up as a cowboy and he made me dress up as a saloon girl. That definitely killed my vibe. Especially when I was the prettiest saloon girl there. I laughed to myself about that one.. That had to be the craziest memory that I had of us three. 

I was in the room now, so I grabbed a blanket and changed into a comfy pair of pajama bottoms. I had a weird feeling that I should sleep in the living room tonight. Call it a hunch, but usually when I had those weird feelings, they usually were right. I started down the stairs and down the hallway again, going back to the living room. Good thing Bobby and Dean were still outside or else I would have to deal with all the sounds that they made at night. This is why I chose a different room to sleep in, because of those idjits. I sat on one of the recliners and pushed the handle on the side to tilt it back. Setting my blanket the way that I wanted it, I closed my eyes and feel asleep. 

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I opened my eyes and heard sounds coming from the kitchen. I felt so groggy, that it took me a minute to actually figure out it it was was coming from the kitchen or not. With my legs, I pressed the recliner bed back in, took off my blanket and got up. As I started making my way to the kitchen, I hear someone whining a little and a few grunts here and there. I called out, but no one answered. Yawning, I made my way into the kitchen to where the sound was coming from. 

My eyes adjusted to the scene around me and stopped at the table again. There was a big man in a chair, who had his head on the table. He was the one making all those noises. My brain started slowly adjusting just like my eyes and it clicked. The man in the chair was Sam. I sprang to action and made my way over to him. The scene unfolding in front of me invited flashbacks of the night Castiel put him in that coma like state. I started tapping him on his big shoulder. “Sam” I started. He did not respond and kept grunting. I tried tapping him again. “Sam!” I said even louder. There was still no response from the big Viking in front of me. I sighed and sat down on the chair that was closest to him. Picking up his hand, I started rubbing little circles with my thumb. “You’re going to be alright. You always are” I said trying to comfort him. At this point, I think that I was comforting myself more than I was him. 

A few minutes went by with him still captured in the nightmare that he was having. It was getting worse by the second and now he was acting as if he were getting choked from some unknown force. I let his had go a long time ago because I was scared and did not know what to do. I wish that Dean and Bobby didn’t stay out so long so they could help me. My knees were held up against my body as I watched the man I love go through this. Tears started making their way down my face.  “ Come on Sammy. Please wake up!” I kept shouting in my head, as I continued to watch him. 

Suddenly, after a while of such a terrifying event, he jolted awake. I quickly wiped my tears away and stood up, ready to comfort him any way that I could. The big giant turned his head frantically, looking like he was trying to make sense of everything around him. He stopped and looked at me. “(Y/N)?” He questioned, looking like a deer caught in headlights. I tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Hey Sammy. I heard you struggling there for a moment.” This response caused him to look down at the ground. I could tell that something was bothering him, but just how much was he willing to tell me? 

He sighed and looked back up at me. “Yeah, I was uh... I was... I was struggling hard” he let out. Tears started cascading down his beautiful face. He closed his eyes for a moment and looked away. This made me sad, so I kneeled down in front of him. I wrapped my arms around his big frame and brought him as close as I could to me. I wanted to shield him from whatever he was going through. He didn’t deserve this. 

New tears started making their way down my face, replacing the old ones. “It’s okay Sammy, I’m hear and I’m never letting go” I said as I rested my chin on the top of his head. A shaking and broken man was in my arms and all I could do was hold him. This thought shattered my heart. He wrapped his arms around me and moved his head to the crook of my neck. “I can’t do this anymore.” It came out more as a whisper than anything else. I placed my hands on each side of his jaw bone and brought his face up to mine. I looked into his watery, sea green eyes. “Yes you can” I said, trying to smile. This in turn made him smile and close his eyes. A shaky breath left his body. His hands came down to my waist as his head started leaning to the side and in. In what felt like an eternity, his lips finally were on mine. They tasted like water, but I didn’t care. I had to let Sam know that I was here to help him. 

My hands slid up from his jaw bones up to the top of his head and into the thick locks of his hair. I wanted him to know how much I loved him. I needed him to know that I loved him. Pressing my lips closer to him, I could feel him smiling into the kiss. He pulled away and kissed me on the forehead. As his lips lingered, I took my hands out of his hair and placed them on  his chest, steadying myself. We stayed like thought for a little while, until I looked up and made contact with his beautiful eyes again. He smiled at me. “You game me a peace of Heaven tonight. More than I have ever had in a while.” I leaned in and captured his lips in another, chaste kiss again. I pulled away and placed my forehead on his. “Thankyou.” he whispered. I smiled. “You’re welcome Sammy.”

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A/N: Requests are open! Tell me what you thought and if you ever need to talk or get to know me, just hit me up! Love you all and you are amazing!

Fare thee well Supernatural

The time has come to turn to the last page of the book. To say goodbye to not only a show but a beautiful world. A world which taught us that people can make mistakes but that doesn't define them, a world which is an epitome of sibling bonds and world who taught us the concept that family doesn't end with blood.

Thank you supernatural! For becoming such a huge part of our lives for being their for us when we truly felt alone. For giving us a family and for always having our back. The uniqueness that each character represented, the bond that the characters shared and the beautiful beacon of light this show has become for so many of us. For 15 years of heartbreak, family, love and brothers. We thank you immensely.

There aren't enough words in the world which will ever combine what this show means to me so here is me trying to do justice to it.

The family and the bonds we have made will continue. The times when life had taken the turn for the worse this show was there for us. I started this show when I was 12 years old and now as a 20 year old this show will take it's last breath.

Thank you supernatural. Goodbye.

P. S. Supernatural will always be the 'jerk' to my 'bitch'

Tags-@dreamin-of-somewhere-else @winchesters-favorite-girl @bellero @spnsisimagines @supernatural-jackles @luci-in-trenchcoats

The Accident Part 3

Hello everybody!! Extremely sorry for this part coming out this late. The thing is my college life started as well as tge hostel one and things have been hectic. I shifted cities and then well it has been exciting. I am now on my Diwali break so I thought I might as well write this part. I hope you like it.

Characters- Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Warnings- fluff and angst

I woke up to see the light blue sky staring back at me.The lush green grass was swaying with the wind, following its directions as much as it could. I stood up and looked around to see a huge tree in the middle of this plain land. It leaves were so huge that they formed a canopy for the one standing underneath it. And somehow when I looked at the tree I could feel a sense of familiarity wash over me. Before I could even conjure up another thought, a girl of no more than 5 ran past me and went towards the tree. Now that i was looking at it intently I realized that a figure was standing underneath it. It was man about 6 foot tall with broad shoulders and a leather jacket. He was standing there with his arms crossed across his chest but the moment he saw the girl his arms opened wide and the little girl jumped into them. He stepped a little further and when I saw his face I immediately recognized him. He was my big brother, my mentor, my hero. He was Dean.

Sam’s POV

When I left Dean with Y/N in the room, I was barely holding it together. A part of me was angry at the driver for hitting her and the other part was also angry at Dean. I tried to keep that part as submissive as possible because Dean did not need this right now. He was already blaming himself and if I even said one word against him, he will spiral down the guilt hole and I could not stand that. So I went to the washroom to freshen up but when I looked at my hands, I saw my little sister’s dried blood and the bile instantly rose in my throat. I hunched over the toilet to throw my insides out. When I came out Dean was standing there with a solemn experssion on his face.

“I am okay.” I assured him.

And before he could even say another word I left the washroom and went to sit next to my baby sister. I took her hand in mine and stroked it gently.

“Hey Y/N/N, it is really boring without you here, I really need you to wake up quickly and help me annoy Dean. I promise I will let you sit in the front seat of the car , I will lend you my flannels and won’t complain about them being lost, I will let you watch your show all the time and I will always eat ice creams with you late at night. Just baby, wake up please wake up and I will do anything on this planet you want.”

I had not realized that the tears had made it down my cheeks and were constantly moving. I suddenly felt a strong grip on my shoulder and I didn’t need to look up to know it was Dean.

“I am sorry Sammy. I am sorry, I did this to the most precious thing in our lives. I am sorry.”

I did not say anything but just looked up at my big brother and hugged him tightly, hoping that my little sister wakes up.

Y/N’s POV

I remember this day. i remember that Sammy had gone somewhere and it was just me and Dean. I had just felt so happy being here that I ran up to dean to tell him that i love him more than anything in this world. I remember how he smiled and kissed me on my forehead and said that he loved me too. I remember that I spent the rest of the afternoon in his arms, just looking at the place and feeling happy and now I was a burden to him.

I missed both my brothers so much but I didn’t want to leave this place. I was not even sure whether Dean loves me or not. But I had to figure it out, I had to know the truth no matter how much it hurts me. I had promised myself that I will not give up on life easily no matter what the circumstances, so I want to go back to my brothers. Thinking about this I closed mud eyes and fell into deep sleep suddenly.

Dean’s POV

I was holding my sister’s hand, and speaking softly to her. Sam had dozed off in the other chair and was snoring softly. I smiled at him and turned my attention back to y/n. I stroked her hair and dmiled at her. Suddenly I felt her finger twitch and so did her facial experssion. I got up and squeezed her hand tightly.

“Y/n, can you hear me baby?” All I got was a whine in response.

“Sam, she is waking up, go get up and get a doctor.”

“I am on it.”

Her eyes then opened and she stared at me, I looked back at her the same coloured eyes and smiled.

“Hey sweetheart” I said

She suddenly started to panic due to the ventilator which was jammed down her throat. So I got up and held her down soothingly.

“Hey sweetheart shh shhh shh , it is okay, it is okay baby. It is the ventilator, it is helping you breathe. Shhhh calm down.”

I stroked her face and watched as the tears welled up in her eyes. My heart stung a bit at seeing my sister in this condition, to be honest I wanted to cry as well but I couldn’t. Not now, while she was this vulnerable.

I looked behind and saw that Sam had arrived with the doctor. The doctor saw that my sister struggling and the three of us helped her remove the ventilator. She was so exhausted after the ordeal that she immediately fell asleep. So I tucked the blanket around her a little more tightly and kissed her on the forehead.

Y/n’s POV

When I opened my eyes this time, I could see the white pale walls around me. My body was sore and in pain but it was bearable. I felt pressure on my right hand and saw that Dean had grabbed it and was sleeping in an uncomfortable position.

“Hey you are finally awake.” I heard my Sam’s voice and turned my head around to see him standing with two cups of what was most probably coffee. He kept the cups at the side table and sat on the chair which was kept next to my bed.

He grabbed my other hand and kissed it sweetly.

“I missed you girlie. I am so glad that you are okay.”

I smiled back at him and squeezed his hand.

“How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore but nothing I cannot handle. How are you two?”

Sam laughed slightly and pushed the hair out of my eyes.

“ We aren’t the ones who are in the hospital bed idiot”

I chuckled and then looked at dean who was snoring softly.

“He hasn’t left your side since you have been here.” Sam said.

“Is he mad at me?” I asked in a shaky voice

“ What? No! Listen he is not mad at you at all! On the contrary he thinks you are mad at him, he really did not mean a thing he said.”

“He didn’t ?”

“No y/n/n, he loves more than anything and it is killing him that you are in this condition. He blames himself you know.”

“I don’t blame him, it is not his fault that the driver hit me” I suddenly heard Dean wake uo from his nap. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around and then a huge smile came up on his face.

“Y/N, you are awake!”

I laughed nervously and nodded. Sam also smiled and got up saying that he needed to go to the washroom.

I rolled my eyes at his attempt of leaving us alone.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” he asked.

“I am okay, just a little sore.”

“Want me to call the nurse for you?” I shook my head and said no.

He squeezed my hand and looked at me with guilt in his eyes. “ Y/n, I am really sorry for the way I yelled at you. I should not have done that, I mean you did not deserve that and I am just so so so sorry.”

“Am I really a Burden?” I asked timidly with tears on the brink of falling down. That got my brother’s attention. He got up from the chair and sat on the bed, he then pulled me in his arms and started stroking my hair soothingly.

“ Sweetheart listen to me, you have never ever been a burden to me on the contrary you have been a blessing. I got angry because I got scared and that is no excuse but when I get scared, I just tend to shout at people. Anyway my point is You are not a burden, you are my baby sister and I love you very very very much. I am so sorry for what I did you, i am so sorry. Please forgive me.”

At this point tears were streamibg down both our faces, so I gestured with my finger for him to come closer. He bent his head down a little and I kissed him softly on tbe cheek and whispered “I love you too big brother”

At this my brother smiled and kissed me on cheek, the forehead multiple times and pulled me closer against him if it was possible.

When Sam came in the room he smiled and laughed at the way we were behaving and then hugged me tight.

“Okay young lady, now the next few weeks you will only and only do rest. Got it” Dean commanded

And I smiled back at him nodding. As long as I have my big brothers next to me. Nothing can hurt me.

The accident is complete !

@u-snavi @winchesters-favorite-girl @straightasdeanwinchester @jackjackljaqui @buckyplease @bea789 @unicorndreamer1622 @ellaorelizabeth @dreamin-of-somewhere-else @chevycastiel1967 @simply-wins-little-sis @simsguruforever2580 @lizwinchester16 @all-of-the-fandom-trash @wtfcas @legitgirl15 @interwebslandfill @lovesamwinchester @mariahoedt @exo-chenyeol-61 @i-mysteryspot @ap-001 @snanlawala1 @captonite @falloutofmymemez @bria133 @mashed-fandom-imagines @negan--is--god @lovexxxkittyxxxblog @lupine-princess

Dating Sam Winchester Would Include:

- You two met when you were both at the same library researching the same case. - Your eyes were immediately drawn to him and his were drawn to you. - You two kept to yourselves though until you both reached for the same book. - This resulted in the two of you having a conversation and you both let it slip that you're hunters. - Instead of one of you telling the other to lay off the case, you decide to work together. - This irritates Dean, but Sam talks him around. - Sam and you share the same values. - This leads the two of you to get on really well. - You start dating him just after the researching portion of the hunt is over. - You both read to each other often usually while cuddling. - He often voices his concern about losing you and then you remind him that that's never going to happen because you're careful AND you have him and his brother to watch over you. - You, Dean, Cas, and Charlie become BFFs. - Winchester movie nights because yes. - You two manage to convince Dean that Team Free Will needs a dog. - This "convincing" was done by bribing him with the promise of him receiving pie at least once a week. - You and Sam exercise together a lot. - You two are the definition of couple goals. - Him skipping hunts when you're ill to take care of you because you're his world. - He tries to get you to incorporate more fresh produce into your diet, although he realizes it's difficult with the hunter lifestyle. - You move into the bunker with them. - You both cuddle a lot. - Sam and you watch a lot of television and films together. - Apart from handholding and occasional cheek kisses, he isn't huge on PDA. - Once away from prying eyes, he's super passionate though. - His favorite place to kiss you is on your forehead. - He gives great hugs. - You both write each other love notes. - Dean is simultaneously you and Sam's number one shipper and semi-disgusted with all of your sickly sweet behavior with him. - He's truly happy though to see his brother in a relationship again. - You and Sam are practically inseparable. - Sam purposely places important objects high up on shelves so he has an excuse to help you. - You two end up getting married and it's all sweet and adorable. - Sam and you do end up having children and you two manage to give them a mostly normal childhood. - They call Dean "Uncle Dean" and Cas is "Uncle Cas". DISCLAIMER- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. I also do not own you.

omg I need more this was perfect

phone works two ways, you know

pairing: sam winchester x fem reader 5.2k

summary: stories of that one time sam surprises you, that one time you surprise sam, and that one time you surprise each other

contents: childhood bsfs to ‘i sometimes want to kiss you but like the normal amount’ to strangers trope will always be loved by me

notes: title from baby came home 2 by the nbhd. this is set during season one because ive only watched the first season of spn lol. this fact also makes me not liable for mischaracterization ok enjoy please!

— thank u to the lovely @locknco for editing this love ya

Nightmares follow Sam Winchester like a moth to a flame.

Most of the time, they’re about Jess. Before the nightmare even starts, he knows what he’s about to see because it’s always the same.

The steady drip of blood against his forehead.

The burst of unbearable heat exploding against the ceiling.

The guilt that creeps in every time without fail.

He wakes up from those nightmares with his heart pounding and a blanket of grief smothering his lungs.

But sometimes, Sam Winchester is lucky.

Sometimes, Sam Winchester dreams of you.

—

Sam wipes his eyes as he stands over your bed.

It’s your actual bed, and not one at a crappy motel in the middle of nowhere. It’s unfortunately humid since it’s creeping toward the middle of August, but Sam doesn’t care. It’s a pretty special occasion — you’re taking a break from hunting for a few days.

He’d been beyond surprised when you’d told him. Catching you at your house during the summer was near impossible with the way your parents ran you around the country, so all your free weekends were taken advantage of.

John had dragged him and Dean to a case just a state over from yours, and Sam had realized it was the closest they’d been to your house in a while. The second the bones had gone up in a pile of salty flames, he was halfway to the nearest bus station and on his way to your city.

The bus pulled in late, and the long walk to your neighborhood meant Sam arrived even later. He wondered if your parents were home and decided he hoped they wouldn’t be. The last thing he wanted them to see was the pitiful sight of him walking through their front door at four in the morning.

And despite the way you insisted it wasn’t true, Sam knew your parents didn’t like him. He’d probably be seeing the barrel of your mom’s revolver before he saw her smile at him.

(“It’s not smart to be telling people the code to your house alarm.”

You laugh in that girly way you do sometimes. Sam imagines you twirling the coiled wire of your phone cord and his throat runs dry.

“Come on. It’s just you, Sam. And how else are you going to sneak into my house?”

Your parents change the code to disarm the alarm every two weeks as a precautionary measure, and you never forget to update him everytime it changes. Sam thinks it’s sweet, but the both of you know he’s barely lucky enough to get the time to call you. The stars would have to align for him to come visit.

“I’ll go in through your window,” Sam says.

There’s a small lift in your voice. “I’ll make sure to double check it’s not you when I throw a knife at the freak climbing up the side of my house.”)

Zero-five-zero-two-eight-three, you’d told him last week.

He’d gone silent on the other end when the numbers clicked in his mind — his birthday. The code to your house right now was his birthday.

Your dad had been too busy to set it, so you’d done it yourself, using the first six numbers that came to mind.

His birthday, apparently.

Sam tries not to think about it too hard.

But now he’s here, standing over your bed and trying not to pass out from exhaustion on your carpet.

Your room looks slightly different from the last time he visited. The walls are a new shade of your favorite color, and the old desk that was in the corner has been replaced with a vanity. There’s pictures of your hometown friends pinned all around the glass, but there’s a few photos he does recognize.

One is from your ninth birthday. Dean had smashed your cake in your face, as expected from the then thirteen-year-old, and you’d clocked him with your fist a second after. The photo was taken post-punch, and you’re grinning through the frosting on your eyes while Dean clutches his face.

The other picture is of you and him from when you were both about twelve. He’s sitting between your legs, laying against your stomach with your American Girl doll in his lap. He’s braiding her hair using the instructions in an old book of yours, and you’d shoved the camera in his face before he could stop you. The photo captured him glaring into the lens of the camera, his thick brown hair pulled into two pigtails on top of his head.

It’s nearly cut out of the frame, but you’re smiling so hard behind him it makes your entire face light up. It’s one of Sam’s favorite pictures of you.

Now, you’re a lump on your full sized mattress, a new step up from your trusty twin bed. The blanket thrown over you has little flowers on it that match your bedsheets, which he already knows you’re very proud of. Still asleep, you roll over onto your back, and that exhaustion from earlier comes back with a vengeance.

Sam drops his jacket onto the heap of clothes on your chair and works to unzip his jeans before his legs give out.

If you were awake, you’d slap him on the back for that, a teasing grin on your face. “I would’ve brought some cash if I knew you were going to strip for me!” you would probably say, like a menace.

He can’t wait for you to wake up so you can annoy him even more.

Sam’s left in a pair of boxers and a baseball t-shirt from a supermarket in Pennsylvania, sweating even in your air conditioning. When he lifts the covers off the bed, he freezes.

You’re wearing a shirt he’d given to you as a souvenir a few months ago. A movie theater in Jersey they helped with their ghost problem gave them a free shirt in return. The cartoon penguin smiles at him now, balancing on one foot with his arms out, like he’s surfing. Sam smiles back while he settles in next to you.

Now that your bed is bigger, there’s more than enough room for the both of you, which is good since it’s so hot out. It means there’s no need to sleep piled up like you had to in the past.

…but Sam hasn’t seen you since that time your families had run into each other in New Mexico, and he hasn’t slept with you like this since you’d been home during your finals week a few months ago.

Under the eye of the penguin on your shirt, he slides one arm below your side pinned to the bed and uses it to pull you against him.

You complain up a storm, even asleep, but settle down quickly. He wonders if you’ll kick him in your sleep again, claiming you were dreaming of being a soccer player.

With your face pressed to the spot between Sam’s arm and shoulder, he listens intently to the nonsensical string of words you mumble out against his skin. Your musings only get more muffled as you press even further into him, throwing your arm over his torso and staying there.

Sam’s hand kindly soothes over your hip, where your shorts have little pink clouds printed on them.

“Woah,” you grumble, dragging out the word. Your hand flexes and then clenches into the fabric of his shirt. “Woah.”

His eyes dart to you embarrassingly fast, guilty for disturbing you but more than excited that you’re awake. Your voice always sounds sweeter in person than it does over the phone.

When he finds your face in the darkness, he realizes your eyes are still shut. Sam runs his hand up your side, warm with sleep. “Hey. You okay?”

Your mouth twitches into a frown. “My friend. My friend’ll do it.”

Oh, he realizes. You’re just sleep talking.

“Okay,” he answers quietly. He wants to hear your voice again, but he also wants you to go back to sleep. You only really mumble like this when you’re about to wake up from a dream. “Sorry,” Sam adds, though he’s not sure what for.

Your face screws up, but then you sigh sweetly against his chest. “Dean?”

(Even when Sam dreams of this, he still feels like you’ve beaten him over the head with that single word.)

You’re dreaming, all right. Of his older brother.

“You gotta get rid of it,” you complain, a pout pulling at your lips.

“He will,” Sam agrees, just to appease you. Thankfully, the worry lines on your face flatten out, and you move yourself even closer to him.

You’re quiet for a few seconds, so Sam closes his eyes, squeezing your shoulder in hopes you go back to sleep.

It doesn’t work, though.

You jolt up and practically launch yourself off the bed, nearly slipping on your hardwood floor before you grab onto your bedside table.

Sam calls for you, but you don’t seem to hear him, busy fumbling in the dark for the lightswitch. He leans over and flicks on the lamp, flooding your room with warm, yellow light. “You okay?” he asks.

The way you spin towards him is comically slow, like you’re being spun in a microwave. There’s a crease on your cheek from being pressed to your pillow for so long, and your eyes are barely open. Sam laments the heartbreaking fact that he can’t see you everyday.

Within the next second, he’s being flattened back against your pillows. You’re by his side so quickly, he’s half inclined to ask you if you’ve gained the ability to teleport.

He squeezes your hip. You take the hint and loosen your hug.

“Sam!” you say, at a volume much too loud for four in the morning. You don’t say anything when he tries shushing you, too busy flitting your hands over whatever parts of him they can reach, laughter spilling from your lips. “You’re here!”

“Took you long enough to realize,” he teases. “I could’ve been some kinda killer, and you would’ve gone on sleeping.”

“What kind of killer would have a face as sweet as yours?” You’re kneeling over him now, smiling so wide it makes Sam feel winded. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he says, matching your smile. “Do you wake up from all your dreams like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve been electrocuted.”

You smile. “I think my brain knew you were here. Made me wake up so I could say hi.”

Sam kisses your forehead. “Hi. Thank you to your brain.”

“Hi. And you’re welcome.”

The two of you sit like that for a little bit, taking in the sight of the other’s face for the first time in months. You seem to enjoy his new haircut, and he studies the new scar going down your bicep while you tell him the story about how you got it.

When the recount of how you were thrown out of a window starts turning into more yawns than words, he pulls you back down to the bed.

“How are you?” he asks, like he hadn’t just asked you that this morning.

Your tongue darts over your chapped lips. “Good. Missed you a lot,” you say, for the second time in the past five minutes.

“Your parents are—they’re good too?” he asks, stuttering over his words.

Whatever he feels for you gets stronger every day, but it’s only when he sees you again that he realizes just how much he likes you. He forces his eyes up from your lips and squeezes your side. Sam really wants to kiss you.

You nod, moving his arms around so you can cram yourself as close to him as the world and physics allows. “Yep. Yep, yep, yep. Your dad and Dean?”

Sam hums. “They’re fine. Didn’t even ask where I was going when I took off.”

“You didn’t tell them?”

“I think they know by now. My dad asked about you on the drive back to the motel.”

You’re curled against his left side, your chin resting against his chest so you can stare up at him. It means that his next few intakes of breath have to be done with a lot of careful thought.

“Can I just come join you guys?” you ask, and Sam’s surprised he can’t hear any hint of a joke in your voice. “I’m sick of missing you all the time.”

He makes a fist, and uses his knuckles to drag circles over your back from the hills of your shoulder blades to the jut of your hip bones.

Sam laughs. “I don’t think you’d want that.” He can tell you’re about to argue until he adds, “Moving in with my dad, that is. You know what he’s like.”

“I’d put up with it for you, though,” you say honestly.

“He treats you like shit,” he stresses. “And he likes you. Maybe it’d be better if I moved in with you instead.”

You push yourself onto your forearm so you can give him a real serious look. There’s a sore spot on his cheek from where he’d gotten shoved into a wall by some spirit, and somehow, you know.

You caress his face, dragging the pads of your fingers over it. Sam makes a weird sound in his throat, something like a hiccup, and you thankfully don’t smile too hard about it.

Sam decides that it’s probably best for his health that you don’t see each other too often. He knows without a doubt that his heart would give out if he felt any stronger about you. He soaks up the warmth of your hand on his face before you let it drop to his collarbones.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

You lean down to press a kiss to his cheek before shifting your face into his shoulder. “Just appreciating your pretty face. If you moved in, I think my parents would have your head on a stake by the end of the week.”

It startles a laugh out of him. He can’t quite look you in the eyes because you’re trying to hide from him, but he tries to anyway. “Are you serious?”

“I’m sorry!” you groan, using one of your free hands to push at his face. “I thought they liked you, I really did. But my mom found out what I changed the alarm code to and made me clean every single gun in that stupid closet.”

Cruel and unusual. “All ‘cause of me?”

You think long and hard about it. “I think it was part of it. She was also mad because I forgot to do the dishes last week, so it could’ve been that, too.”

Your parents have quite the array of weapons. The jacket closet turned armory in your living room has enough rifles to arm half the state of Kansas, and Sam thinks about what a sad sight it would’ve been: you on the floor with a cleaning rod in hand, and about fifty more handguns to wipe down.

“Poor girl,” he says, pulling your palm into his hand. He presses into the calluses you have from where your gun usually sits. “You didn’t suffer too much?”

“Nope,” you say, awfully cheerful. Your next blink is slower than the others, so he resumes his ministrations against your back. You go limp again. “Only cause I… knew you were coming over soon.”

His face warms, but he has to poke fun at you before he lets you fall asleep.

“Sam, my parents love you,” he mocks, letting his voice go quieter. “Come over for dinner, Sam. No, my parents won’t mind, they love having you over.” He smiles at you. “Must be why I gotta show up here before the sun is up, right?”

Your chest stutters before you laugh, which usually means you’re really embarrassed.

The dream ends when he takes pity on you and kisses the spots on your arms you tell him are aching from all your hard work.

—

Dean wakes up that morning to the sight of Sam hunched over the old table in the corner of the room. There’s a pile of newspapers at his feet and one in his hands, which he stares at so intently it looks like he’ll burn a hole through it.

“Y’know, if you keep scowling, your face is gonna get stuck like that.”

Sam doesn’t grace him with a glance. It’s clear he’s been up for a few hours already. “I think I got something.”

—

Rachel Anderson and John Hansen were two college kids from the suburbs of Virginia. Both were from respectable families, both were straight A students, and both were well-loved by the community.

Two nights ago, John left family movie night to shoot himself in his backyard. And last night, Rachel drowned herself in her bathtub during a sleepover with her friends. In the center of their bedroom floors were identical suicide notes. Each in their own handwriting, but not a single difference in wording or sentence structure.

Sam has to park the car down the block when they arrive outside Rachel Anderson’s house. The street leading up to the building is lined with shiny new cars — Mercedes, Lexus, and BMW logos as far as the eye can see — making the Impala stick out like a sore thumb.

Dean cranes his neck to look up at the houses on the same street as the Andersons. Pretty suburban towns like these scare him a little more than he’s willing to admit.

He whistles. “Didn’t know they made BarbieLand a real place.”

Sam cracks a smile at that. “How many of these people do you think have a membership at that country club down the street?”

The two of them snicker all the way up to the front door. Sam knocks, his brother too busy looking around at the rest of the neighborhood.

“If any of your little college friends have houses as nice as these, maybe we should make a quick visit the next time we’re in California,” Dean jokes, eyeing a neighboring pool.

Sam stops rolling his eyes because the door swings open, and he plasters on his most sympathetic smile for whatever grieving family member is on the other side of the door.

It’s a guy about his age, wearing a crisp black sweater. The dark circles under his eyes make it clear he was close with Rachel — a man plagued with grief through and through.

“Hey,” Sam says. “This is Rachel’s house, right?”

The man flicks his eyes from Sam over to Dean, who’s only now looking away from the nice looking houses to join him at the front door.

“Yeah. This is it,” he answers, though he still doesn’t open the door fully. The three of them stare at each other for an awkward second before the guy clears his throat. “If you guys don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

“I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean,” he explains. “Me and Rachel had psych together. She saved my grade in that class last semester.”

Sam’s not surprised at how easy the lie rolls off his tongue. Lying is almost as important to the job as the guns in their trunk are.

The man, satisfied with the answer, lets the door creak open. “Oh, I see. I’m Will. Thanks for coming, you two. Everyone’s out in the backyard.”

A girl’s voice floats to the front door from somewhere nearby. “Will, is it Deb?”

William Anderson was mentioned in the article about Rachel’s death. He’s the girl’s older brother, who pivots to face the girl speaking from behind him.

“These are friends from Rachel’s psychology class,” he says, stepping out of the doorway.

Olivia Anderson was mentioned in the paper too. The youngest child of the family, just a year younger than her older sister. For a second, Sam thinks he’s hallucinating. She looks just like her and a little like Will too, down to their twin black sweaters.

A different voice responds, and something about it makes the hair on the back of Sam’s neck stand up. “Psych class? Rachel didn’t—”

The closest Sam can get to describing this moment is like the seconds before a spirit manifests. His heart kicks up a little bit quicker. Alarms ring in his head, and the area around the Andersons’ front door turns electrified.

It’s you.

You get pulled into view by Olivia Anderson, a deer caught in headlights wearing your own matching black sweater.

Sam doesn’t want to blink, certain that your face will shift and it’ll be some sick trick of the light. A dream haunting him even while he’s awake.

“Rachel didn’t what?” Will asks, not suspicious, just curious.

Your mouth opens and closes, like you’re fumbling for something to say, and Sam doesn’t blame you.

For one, you’re going to lie for them. Both him and Dean are beginning to realize that Rachel didn’t take a psychology class at all, and you’re trying to figure out how to twist your sentence into an excuse that makes sense.

And two… you’re standing in front of your best friend who you haven’t spoken to in four years. Sam isn’t surprised that you have nothing to say to him.

“Rachel didn’t like anything about that class,” you decide on, your eyes shifting from Sam to Dean then back again.

You swallow hard. It looks like you’ve—

“—seen a ghost?” you ask, grinning.

The duffel bag in Sam’s hands hits the motel floor, but he’s too stunned to even wince at the sound.

“Looking a little scared there, Sammy,” you tease, pushing yourself off of the old bed in the center of the room. “A little old, too, honestly—”

He’s crossed the room before you can finish your sentence.

You squeak at the impact, your arms being crushed to your sides with the way he captures you in a hug. The two of you stumble two big steps back so you don’t tip over.

“You’re here,” Sam says, like he can’t quite believe it. You manage to work your arms away from your body so you can hug him too. “What are… How did you—”

“Dean finally remembered my phone number,” you joke, squeezing him with a big smile on your face. “I know you guys have to drive out early tomorrow — uh, I guess today, actually — but you know I had to come see you on your birthday, Sam. Even if it’s just for a few hours.”

It’s seven minutes past midnight on the second day of May.

Sam Winchester is eighteen.

“You’re here,” he repeats. He doesn’t bother trying to wipe the smile off his face. “I can’t believe it.”

When Dean had clapped him on the back and told him he’d booked him an extra room for his birthday, Sam was shocked. Birthdays weren’t anything special to either of them, so he’d been thankful, but also very confused. Buying another motel room wasn’t cheap, yet he’d done it anyway.

From the adjoining room next door, Sam’s sure his brother has a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s probably going to hold this over his head forever, claiming how much of a great brother he is, and Sam will let him.

He hasn’t seen you in four months. He thinks he might throw up.

“You drove here all by yourself?” Sam asks you, once the two of you have settled on the bed. He takes a seat cross-legged and both of you pretend like you’re not about halfway into his lap.

“Yep,” you say proudly. “Dean had to teach me how to parallel park over the phone so I would have my license in time.”

Sam’s heart swells ten sizes. “Thank you. I can’t believe you came out all this way.”

You hit him on the shoulder. “Of course. You’re my best friend, did you really think I was gonna miss your eighteenth birthday?”

He leans in close enough to the point that it’d be easy to kiss you. So, so, so easy.

He doesn’t, though, and you don’t push it. You reach for one of his hands in his lap and trace over the ridges of his knuckles, a little smile on your face.

His hair has finally recovered from the Nair that Dean had put in his shampoo a while back, so it hangs just over his eyebrows and curls around his ears again. You blow the brown locks out of his eyes and then smile a little wider.

“I have a gift for you.”

You slink out of his lap, and Sam tries not to frown when you get up to grab your backpack. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Stop worrying,” you chastise, dropping your bag onto the bed to look through. “I’m your actual birthday gift. This one’s just extra, so it’s nothing fancy.”

“You being here is worth more than any fancy thing you could've bought me at a store,” he says, and you brush his hair from his face affectionately.

“I’m happy you think so, Sammy.”

Too wrapped up in the sight of your smile, he forgets to say something about the dumb nickname.

“I got this from the grocery store down the street before you got here.” It’s wrapped in the plastic bag you’d bought it in, but Sam takes it from your hands like it’s made of gold. “Consider this one… supplemental.”

You huddle close while he takes the gift out of the bag and reads it.

“Thirteen Ghosts,” he says, flipping the DVD case over in his hands.

“Figured we could watch a movie together.” You poke his side. “See how funny they make their monsters look.”

This isn’t the first time you and Sam have watched a movie together. There was that one time when you’d watched Notting Hill on your couch, but your parents kept giving him warning looks from in the kitchen and he’d made sure to keep the bowl of popcorn and half of the couch between you two.

And Sam will always hold some level of respect for your parents because they’re your parents, but he could not be more glad to be hundreds of miles away from them right now. Because the second that he comes back from popping the DVD into the player, you’re very kindly asking to spoon, and Sam is not well known for being able to say no to you.

You tuck yourself against his front, and he slips his arms around your middle. You trap his hands there by slotting yours together, tracing over the lines on his hands like a palm reader. Sam watches you while you watch the movie, pretending to follow along with the dialogue and your whispered commentary.

The lights of the TV flicker on the side of your face as you poke fun at the actors, and he’s hit with a wave of anticipatory sadness. Sam prays to whoever’s listening that he never falls asleep. Prays this night lasts forever, and that you don’t have to go home and he doesn’t have to leave in the morning. If the rest of his life is bad horror movies and sleeping next to you, he’d die happy.

You laugh at something that jumps on the screen, and Sam can’t help himself anymore.

When he says your name, he practically winces hearing the sound of his own voice. It’s shaky and nervous, and you shift to look at him with concern in your eyes. One of the actresses screams on screen, and you squeeze his hand that you still haven’t let go of.

“You okay? Did you wanna turn the TV off?”

“I love you.”

You turn to face him completely, and Sam Winchester, the luckiest eighteen-year-old in the world, is able to watch the smile light up your eyes.

You let go of him to hold his face, like he’s something to be treasured. “I love you too, S—”

“—am, and I’m Dean,” his brother says, offering his hand for you to shake.

Your grip looks solid when you reach across the threshold of the Anderson house to take his hand in yours, as if you’re meeting him for the first time.

The whole thing feels like a nightmare.

It’s unnatural to watch your tight lipped smile and awkward shuffling while you stare blankly at Dean. You let go of his hand like he hasn’t pulled you off your couch and taught you how to dance in the middle of your living room. Like he hasn’t let you finish the rest of his food at rundown diners just because you ate yours too fast.

You turn to Sam next, and his stomach does a backflip.

Four years was a long time.

Sam knows he’s not the same person who left you on your front porch. He’d held you for longer than usual that day, and left you with a promise to visit that he hadn’t meant.

He doesn’t think you’re the same girl who was left there either. You look different. A little older, a little more mature.

(At eighteen, you would’ve given him a nasty look for that. “Older? You can’t say that to a girl, Sam.”

“I said you looked older, not old!” he would’ve defended frantically. “There’s a difference!”

“Why the hell would I want to be told I look older, you jerk!”)

And he loves you, but it’s true. You look older, but it means you look as lovely as ever. Grown into yourself and radiant in ways you hadn’t been at eighteen. You look like you’re glowing.

Your hair is also done in a way you never liked to do by yourself. He knows it for a fact, because you’d always complain to him over the phone about it, wondering how he was able to do it for you so nicely.

(He’d always said it was because he was patient and you were clearly not, but it was mostly because he’d practiced it on your old dolls a bunch of times before he’d asked to do it on you.)

Your hair now looks nicer than anything Sam could’ve done for you. He wonders if you did it yourself—if you had to learn because he wasn’t around anymore, and was never coming back.

Sam wants to tell you that he’s missed you, and that there hasn’t been a day he hasn’t thought of you.

He wonders what you would say. He wonders if you'd sound the same, and he’d be able to tell, ‘cause of how often he plays your old voicemails over when he misses you. He remembers just how you would sound when you were laughing and remembers precisely how much slower you would speak when you were upset.

You don’t extend your hand for him to shake, and Sam’s left to wonder if your hands would still feel the same in his.

And when he meets your eyes, he reads the hurt written all over your features. Hurt that he put there. Hurt that’s probably healed over in the last four years, leaving a nice long scar he’s sliced open again just now.

You nod at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

He digs his fingers into his palms. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

notes: the party ended four years ago and she JUST GOT HERE!!!! LMAO ive been infected with the sam winchester virus but who can blame me look at his face