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After everything that happened with Lisa and Ben, we headed back to Bobby's to regroup and figure out our next steps. I shared with the Winchesters a piece of my history, telling them about my brief marriage to H.P. Lovecraft. I might've left out the part about why I married him, though. Trauma dumping on them didn't seem right, especially not after what Dean had just gone through with Lisa and Ben. Dean listened with that guarded, distant look in his eyes, like he was only half there, still weighed down by everything he'd left behind.
Sam, on the other hand, seemed more curious than anything, with a spark of excitement in his eyes. It was clear he'd read some of Lovecraft's work and was eager to know more. While Dean and Bobby wandered off to do anything else, Sam stayed behind, and I indulged his curiosity, telling him what Lovecraft was really like. Despite his obsession with the occult, there was a kindness to the man.
I took a swig of my beer, the cold liquid sliding down as Sam leaned casually against Bobby's worn kitchen table, his own beer in hand.
"So, you actually helped him write The Shadow Out of Time?" Sam asked, his brows furrowed as he tried to process everything, I'd just told him.
"I might've offered him a few pointers," I replied with a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, the memory playing faintly in my mind.
Sam tilted his head, clearly intrigued. "Pointers like what? Did you give him the whole plot or just the creepy stuff?"
I chuckled softly, swirling the beer bottle in my hand. "Mostly the creepy stuff. He had a knack for dreaming up the existential dread, but he didn't always get the details right. I helped him... refine the horrors a bit... you know, past experience and all," I said with a chuckle, taking a brief sip of the beer.
The taste barely registered as memories of my past flickered through my mind. It had been a lifetime ago, but the things I had done, the horrors I had seen and created—they lingered at the edges of my mind.
A small, humourless smile tugged at my lips. "Guess you could say I had a knack for it." I lifted my gaze to meet Sam's, only to find him watching me intently. There was no humour in his expression, no trace of amusement at my words.
Sam straightened up, shifting from leaning on the table to sitting back in his chair. He brought the beer to his lips, taking a slow sip, while I let my gaze drift away from him, focusing on nothing in particular. Kicking myself mentally for making the comments I did.
The silence between us stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable, until I couldn't take it anymore. "I think I'm gonna call it a night," I said, finally breaking the quiet as I turned my attention back to Sam. He gave me a small nod of acknowledgement as I tipped the bottle back for one last swig. The cold beer slid down my throat, settling heavily in my stomach. Setting the empty bottle down on the table, I pushed myself up from the chair.
Just as I turned to leave, Sam's voice cut through the air, stopping me in my tracks. "Abby, wait." I straightened and lifted my head, meeting his steady gaze. "Why did you marry him?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing as he locked eyes with me, clearly referring to Lovecraft.
