Sam shorts

Ghost

"Hey Sam don't forget the popcorn," you yell to him as he walks out the door. "Okay," you hear through the door. You smile and turn back to your movie that you can turn up now that he's going on an errand. All nestled in you continue watching the movie then another. You look down at your phone and see quite a bit of time has passed, "it shouldn't take him this long." Picking up your phone and scrolling down to Sam's name you hit talk. It rings and rings but you don't leave him a message. So you call him again till he picks up, "hello." "Hey what's taking you so..." you don't finish, "who's this?"

"This is Mr. Collins with the first responders." You sit up and mute the tv, "wait... Why are you answering Sam's phone? What happened to Sam?" "Please ma'am calm down. He was in a severe car accident and being taken to the hospital now." You end the call and grab your things before breaking the sound barrier to get to the hospital. Running inside to the nurses' station, "where's Sam Winchester? He was in a car accident and where is he?" The nurse typed in the computer, "are you a friend or family member?" You nod, "fiancée."

Running to his room you don't take a breath as you push the door open and see him lying there. Dropping your things on the floor you move to the side of the bed. Machines beeping and tubes... everywhere. Your lip quivered as you slid your hand under his and remembering the many times where it'd be squeezed back, only not this time. "Sam I..." not able to finish your sentence then the doctor walks in. "So you're Mr. Winchester's fiancée?" You wipe your face, "I am." "He's got major internal bleeding, his right lung is punchered from his broken ribs, a concussion and bruising on the left temporal lobe and I hate to mention he might be brain dead."

"Might be? What the fuck doctor and this might be. It's Sam, he'll be fine just fix him!" "Now you need to calm down," he puts his hands up. "Calm down? How can I..." You look at Sam then to the floor, "my world came crashing down in one afternoon." "We are doing the best we can and have people here you can talk to, however, we also need to talk about the possibility of him not coming out of this." You ball your fist, "I can't think about that now."

Months Later

You had a makeshift cot in the corner and the nurses knew your name when they came in to check on him. Nothing much has changed and he wasn't healing all that fast. You've hardly left his side and many times the nurses would walk you out of the room and around the unit just to get you a change of scenery. You woke up from your nap, you rarely get a full night's rest, feeling utterly defeated. No new activity in his brain and that morning the doctor declared him legally brain dead. You crawled in bed next to him and ran your fingers through his hair, "I'm so sorry Sam. It's my fault you went out that night. I really didn't need that popcorn, not in exchange for your life." Crying on his helplessly on his chest you grab a handful of his shirt.

Leaving the hospital for the first time in a long time you put on sunglasses and felt the wind across your face and tingle your tear stained face. After signing the papers they pulled the plug and he went peacefully. Getting in your car you pound your fist on the dash just before leaving. Light after numb light reality hasn't soaked in yet. Walking into the place you both shared you moved across the room and plopped on the couch. Pounding your fists on your thighs before screaming to the heavens, "WHY, GOD WHY DID YOU TAKE HIM FROM ME? YOU WORTHLESS BASTARD!" Putting your head in your hands you cry it out.

Waking up in the fetal position on the couch with a stiff neck. Your wobbly legs get you to the bathroom where you splash some water on your face and look up into your own red puffy eyes. You grab a towel and pat your face. Calling into work and your understanding boss gives your two weeks off and a little stipend to help with the funeral. You zombie around the place cause it all reminds you of him. Moving into the bedroom you see his side of the bed, still not made. Sticking out your arm you pull up the covers and lay on your side, looking over at his. Putting your hands on his pillow and dragging it to you. Wrapping your arms around it, smelling his scent still on it.

After the funeral the world is nothing to you. People helped you but you've checked out. You don't remember how many handshakes or hugs you were given but many 'sorrys' and 'condolences' were said. Making yourself a small sandwich from all the food left behind; you still didn't have an appetite but realized you must eat something. Dropping the knife, "damnit," you look down but don't see it there, instead it's on the counter. You look around, "maybe I imagined that." Picking it up and sliding it into the sink you shake it off.

A couple more days go by and you don't do much. Friends stop calling and family keep their distance but always say they are there for you. Looking through photos you fall asleep with the album in your lap. When you wake up you look down and see the photo of you and him at the beach, you remember him being so happy. Smiling at it your fingers graze over him then you quickly look to your left because you saw a shadow out of the corner of your eye. Closing the album and setting it on the table you get up and look around the empty room. "I've got to get more sleep, my brain's messing with me."

In the morning you take a shower and this time your legs aren't so weak. Getting out and toweling off you glance up at the steam filled mirror. You squint at the little heart in the corner. Turning in the towel you look around, "Sam?" Moving into the bedroom, "if that's you... come out." Nothing happens and you take a breath then put on some clothes. Going into the living room you stop suddenly because there's a strange feeling that overwhelms you. You don't feel like your alone and there is someone else in the room.

"Sam," you whisper out to the force in front of you. Your jaw trembles as that force begins to take more of a shape and becomes more opaque. Putting your hands over your mouth and tears welling and your breaths become stubborn. He's standing in front of you with those puppy eyes once more. "You bastard," you run to him, throwing your arms around him. Your face planted in his chest, "you came back to me," your voice muffled. "I did," he pulls back and cups your cheeks, "because our love defies death."