Mute 𖤐 Sam Winchester

FOURTEEN

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A week later, the nightmares seemed to happen more frequently. After Kate killed her sister and disappeared, she was barely sleeping.

They had been at the same motel for the last three days to rest up. But to Joyce, it was nothing but boredom and anxiety. Sam picked up on it the night in the Impala, and he worried more.

The sleeping arrangements were funky considering there were three of them with two beds. Sam tried offering almost every night to sleep on the floor due to the fact that there was no couch or chair in the room.

The last night, Joyce gave in and fell asleep backwards on Dean's bed. The man— obviously dumbfounded, still slept with his head beside her feet.

When Sam woke, he realized that not only Dean, but Joyce was awake. She was sitting on the floor, a book resting on her knees.

The man sat up and rubbed his eyes before pulling off the blankets. "Hey."

Joyce lifted her eyes. The bruising on her face was healing, and her arm was healing over but slowly. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, and he knew immediately she hadn't slept again.

She waved at him with a small smile. "Good morning."

As Sam stood and stretched his limbs, Joyce couldn't help but stare. The way he looked so beautiful even when he just woke, the way his tee was practically crooked and exposed the sharp lines that traveled below his abdomen.

Joyce quickly pulled her eyes away.

"Where's Dean?"

She tilted her chin upward. "Outside, working on the car."

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, just a foot away from her. "Joyce, how long has it been since you slept?"

The woman shrugged. "I don't know."

He rested his elbows on his knees. "Look, I know all of this is really complicated, but I mean. . . You're not sleeping and you're having all of these nightmares. Maybe it would be easy to talk about it."

Joyce closed her book. "Sam, we have so much on our plate, and my mental health is the last thing that needs to be a concern."

"You're a part of this life, and you're a part of the family now, whatever is bothering you, I want to help you, or at least do what I can."

She felt her heart swell in her chest and she closed the book.

"Every day, I see that Wendigo killing my dad and trying to kill me. . . And some days I see my ex, dragging me around the house by my hair. Making me feel weaker and weaker."

Sam clenched his jaw. "I've been in your shoes, Joyce. I still am. There's so much that I see every day, what we've been through. It does things to you, I know."

Joyce leaned her head back. "But?"

Sam chuckled. "But you can't let it consume you. You have to make peace with it. . . Make peace with the fact that your father is in a better place, that you're alive."

"How long did it take you, to make peace with your dad?" She asked him.

"After he died, it kind of just hit me." He said. "I realized that he did the best that he could, I was just too naive to see it, I guess."

"You wanted a life of your own, Sam."

"I did. But I guess this is my life." Sam smiled. "And, also, your ex, if I ever see him, I'll kill him myself."