Misunderstood

Chapter Twenty-One

Harper’s POV

“So what are we supposed to do now?” I ask more or less to Ashton who is still standing beside me. It’s been about ten minutes since the television has cut off yet all of us are still in the house alive, the lights still on. 

“I guess we wait for him to come get us?” Ashton finally answers with a shrug, going over to sit on the couch beside Mikey. I don’t understand how he can be so calm about all of this, but as I watch him whisper something to Mikey before glancing longingly at Sahara and Luke sitting in the arm chair together I figure it out. He doesn’t want to make it out of this alive, his heart is broken and now he wants to die to save the girl he loves even though she no longer loves him back. 

I let out a small sigh as I go sit on the floor in front of the couch, my back leaning against Mr. Winchester’s legs. I close my eyes and try to get a moment’s rest. One would think when going through such a traumatic experience they wouldn’t get tired but the lack of sleep and alcohol from earlier is finally getting to me. 

“Come on Harper, why don’t you go lay down,” I hear Mr. Winchester lean down and whisper before I feel him moving behind me.  His strong grip is suddenly underneath my bicep as he helps me up and guides me into the bedroom we were just occupying, although it feels like ages ago. I stumble onto the bed and lay back onto the pillows, how am I so tired when I’m most likely about to be taken?

“Just get some sleep,” Mr. Winchester breathes, sitting down on the bed beside me and I turn so that I can see his eyes looking down at me. 

“I don’t want to sleep, I need to go help,” I mumble, trying to get back up before he pushes me again back onto the pillows. 

“Sweetheart, there isn’t much more we can do right now,” he murmurs soothingly, moving some hair that has fallen in my face and as I look up at him again I realize how green his eyes are. They’re beautiful. 

“What’s your first name?” I yawn. Mr. Winchester chuckles before laying back down on the bed beside me and turning his face so he can look at me. 

“Sam,” he answers as I scoot closer to him and place my head on his chest. His arm instinctively wraps underneath my neck and begins to stroke my back. 

“Sam,” I repeat quietly, the new name sounding foreign on my tongue. “What about Sammy?” I tease, looking at him with a smirk. I see a large smile appear on his face as he looks down at me, his green eyes twinkling with humor. 

“My brother used to call me that,” he laughs. 

“Your brother?” I ask, now completely awake and interested. 

“Yeah, Dean.” 

“Where is Dean now?” 

“Probably on some hunting trip with his friend Cas,” Sam answers, looking off into the distance as his hand rests on my back. Hunting? I don’t see Sam as being a big deer hunter. 

“Are you guys not close?” I ask, wondering why I never even knew he had a brother. 

“We are. Let’s just say I wanted more of a normal life than he did. Although I wouldn’t mind his help right now. He would know exactly what to do,” he answers, and I can see that his mind is a million miles away. 

“I mean I feel like you’re doing a pretty good job handling this situation right now,” I murmur, dropping my gaze as his green eyes find mine again and he smiles. 

“Thanks,” he answers quietly, kissing me softly on the forehead, “but you and Ashton are the real heroes here,” he continues. 

“Am I a bad person? Do I deserve all of this?”