When We Were Young (A Supernatural Fanfic)

Chapter 1

You were young when you first knew the monsters under your bed were real. Most little girls would be terrified, but lucky for you, you had some pretty strong protectors against the forces of evil!

Your dad knew John and so you grew up playing tag with Sam and swooning over Dean once he grew into his lanky frame. John and your father used to poke fun at you, laughing over their nightly beers, while you followed Dean around pretending his flirting was so annoying. You thought you hid the crush well, until John pulled you into a hug one night calling you his 'future daughter-in-law' making your cheeks burn hot.

It wasn't two weeks after that night that your father was killed in what they called a "freak animal attack," and you were put into foster care, despite John's very loud protests. Dean held you close as you cried into his chest, listening to John threaten every person he was transferred to for over three hours. He whispered that it would be okay in your ear, but you knew it probably wouldn't be. They took you away from the Winchesters' the day after your father's funeral. You were 13.

It was 10 years later when you first ran into Sam, of all people, at your day job at the Camden coroner's office. Thank God he didn't catch you at your night job... Dressed in his FBI best, he approached your desk, where you were rifling through the case files looking for potential leads. The coroner's office was a great place to find cases, so you kept your low paying job for that reason, making more money at the bar on your night shift.

"Excuse me," Sam started, approaching the desk and clearing his throat briefly, putting on his 'in charge' voice.

"What can I help you with?" You answered, not bothering to look up from the manilla folders in front of you. You heard the stranger stop abruptly, causing you to look up into clear grey eyes.

"...Y/N?" Sam asked, not sure of himself. You hadn't seen the boys in over 10 years, and though you kept your feminine shape, the years taught you to hold yourself differently, and two jobs plus hunting had your hair sprouting grey, which you dyed every so often, when you had the money. You realized you hadn't answered Sam's inquiry, but continued to drink in his familiar aura. You were only a year older than Sam, but you recognized his young face, despite the fact that he was now towering over you and you could see the years hadn't been kind to him either, noticing the frown lines between his eyebrows though he was smiling at your patiently.

You pushed away from your desk, rising to your feet before speaking. "Sam, wow, uh, it's been awhile huh?" You questioned stupidly, moving from around your desk and into his long arms. He embraced you tight, and you inhaled his scent unabashedly, missing the familiar scent of gunpowder and something so uniquely Sam. You hugged him back, relishing in the feeling of his arms around you. You hadn't held any romantic feelings toward Sam. He was more like your little brother than anything but having him stand in front of you brought tears to your eyes, realizing how much you truly missed him. Sam squeezed you once more before letting go.

"Uh," you began, looking around briefly for any signs of your boss. You avoided Sam's eyes as you waited for yours to stop watering. "Do you want to go somewhere and catch up?" You asked, hoping it would take his attention away from your face as you gathered your emotions. "It's almost my break, and it looks pretty slow today anyway," you shrugged grabbing your bag and heading toward the exit, not waiting for his response.

The bright afternoon sun blinded you as you rushed out of the double doors, and you thanked God for an excuse to wear your sunglasses. You lit a cigarette quickly, glancing guiltily at Sam standing watching you with a small smile on his face. You shrugged smashing the cigarette under your boot, realizing you were being judged.

"I only smoke when I'm stressed," you said coughing out a laugh at how ridiculous you sounded. You also talk too much and fidget when you're nervous you thought to yourself looking down at your fingers, which were picking at your black nail polish.