Heart of a Hunter

8: In the Quiet Moments

                                             Sam's POV:

The storm had finally broken. Rain poured down in thick sheets, hammering the Impala and the world around us, drowning out the sound of everything else. I sat in the driver's seat, hands resting on the steering wheel, though I wasn't going anywhere. I kept my eyes on the windshield, watching the rain blur the world outside, while my mind wrestled with everything that had been building between Blair and me.

Dean had gone inside the diner a few minutes ago, leaving us alone in the car. It wasn't intentional—he had just wanted food—but the second the door closed behind him, the air in the car shifted. It was like we were both waiting for something, though neither of us seemed willing to say what it was.

I wasn't good with stuff like this. Hell, I'd spent most of my life running from feelings—burying them under the job, under the next hunt, the next mission. But with Blair, I couldn't seem to do that. Every time I looked at her, I felt like something was pulling me in, like I couldn't get away even if I wanted to.

And the thing was—I didn't want to.

I turned my head slightly, glancing at her. She was sitting in the passenger seat, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out the window. Her red hair was messy, strands falling in her face, but she didn't bother pushing them back. The rain outside reflected in her eyes, turning her green irises darker, almost as if the storm was inside her too.

She hadn't said much since we left the gas station, and I could feel the weight of it hanging between us. The silence wasn't awkward—it was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Like there was something we both knew was coming, but neither of us knew how to get there.

Finally, Blair broke the quiet, her voice soft but steady. "Sam?"

I turned fully toward her, my heart picking up speed. "Yeah?"

She didn't look at me right away, like she was gathering her thoughts, her fingers twisting in the sleeves of my jacket—which she still hadn't given back. I didn't mind, though. Seeing her wrapped up in it made me feel like I was protecting her, even if it was just from the cold.

"Why are you still here?" she asked, her voice barely louder than the rain. "Why are you... I don't know. Why are you doing this? With me?"

The question caught me off guard, even though I should have seen it coming. Blair had been struggling with this from the start—wondering why we were helping her, why I was staying so close. But what she didn't understand was that I wasn't here out of some sense of duty. I was here because I wanted to be. Because something about her made me want to stay.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight. "Because... I care about you."

Her eyes finally met mine, wide and full of emotion. She looked like she wasn't sure if she believed me, like she couldn't quite accept the idea that someone would stick around for her. And it broke something in me.

"I know it doesn't make sense," I continued, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. "But I care about you, Blair. This isn't just about the job, or about what happened. It's... more than that."

Her breath hitched, and I could see the struggle on her face—the fear, the uncertainty, all the walls she had built around herself. But there was something else too. Something that told me she felt it too, even if she didn't know how to admit it.

"I don't want to be a burden," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "You've done so much for me already, and I don't know how to—"

"You're not a burden," I interrupted, my voice firm. I didn't want her to finish that sentence, because it wasn't true. "You're not. I'm here because I want to be, not because I feel like I have to. I—" I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. "I don't want to lose you."

She blinked, and for a moment, I thought I'd said too much. But then she leaned forward, just a little, her eyes searching mine like she was trying to make sense of what I was saying.

"Sam..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know how to do this."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "Neither do I."

For a moment, neither of us moved. The rain continued to pound against the car, the sound like a heartbeat, steady and insistent. I didn't know what I was doing, and I sure as hell didn't know what was going to happen next, but in that moment, all I could think about was her—how close she was, how much I wanted to close the gap between us.

Slowly, almost without thinking, I reached out and cupped her cheek, my hand trembling slightly as I touched her skin. She closed her eyes for a second, leaning into my hand, and the soft sigh that escaped her lips nearly undid me.

When she opened her eyes again, I could see everything she wasn't saying—the fear, the hope, the vulnerability. It was all there, laid bare between us.

"I'm scared," she whispered, her breath warm against my fingers.

"I know," I said softly, my thumb brushing across her cheek. "Me too."

The tension between us snapped, and before I could think twice, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. My lips brushed hers, soft and tentative at first, like I was waiting for her to pull away. But she didn't. Instead, she leaned into the kiss, her hands reaching up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer.

It was like everything I'd been holding back, everything I hadn't let myself feel, rushed to the surface all at once. The kiss deepened, her lips warm and soft against mine, and for a moment, the storm outside didn't matter. Nothing did.

All that mattered was her.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing hard, our foreheads resting against each other. Her eyes were still closed, and I could feel her hands trembling slightly as they clung to my shirt. I kept my hand on her cheek, my thumb gently brushing her skin, trying to ground us both.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. We just stayed there, breathing together, letting the moment settle between us.

Then, finally, Blair opened her eyes, her gaze meeting mine. There was something in her expression that I hadn't seen before—something like hope.

"I don't know what happens next," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the rain.

I smiled, my heart still racing. "We figure it out. Together."

She nodded, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. "Yeah. Together."

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like that was enough.