Don't Fear the Reaper

What's Real?

"Sam?" You breathed out, drinking in the sight of him. It had been so long, and you thought you would never have the chance again, but here you were, with his hazel eyes staring down at you. With the little specks of brown, and the mixture of blue and green, it was a comforting sight you never thought you would see again. Your gaze traveled farther down, to his blue and gray flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up and his arms flexed on either side of you on the bed. Bed? Ignoring Sam's questioning stare, you slid out from under him, resting your back against the headboard.

"Bad dream?" He asked you, sitting down on top of the soft blue blanket on top of your bed, completely different from the scratchy tan one on your motel bed. Besides that, there was the soft golden light from a lamp next to the bed, not that of a florescent above your head. It was those, plus the fact that the walls were painted a light, airy blue that had you realizing something was most definitely wrong. 

"Sam, what's going on?" You asked, as he laced his hands with yours, seeking out a way to comfort you. You relished in the touch, but you were wondering if this was some strange dream, and you would wake to find yourself once again alone, with no one to comfort you in your cold, strange motel room.

"What do you mean? It's Monday. I always get up this early to go to work. Are you okay?" He asked.

"Work? You were in hell." You said, and his head reared back as he took in your words. 

"Hell? Honey, no more wine for you. I like this job, remember." He assured you, and you could only stare at him. "Why don't you get some more sleep, and I'll call you during my lunch break."

You nodded, thinking maybe if you fell back to sleep in this dream, you would wake up in real life. But if that was the case, than you wanted this to be real, at least for a little bit longer. Because, even if it was just a sham, it still felt nice to have Sam there, with his hand in yours, and his beautiful eyes staring down at you.

Pressing his lips against your forehead, he stood up, and you watched as he moved into the bathroom. It was then you were able to take in more of the room, and how different it was from your motel room, or even your one at Bobby's. It was nicely decorated, with fluffy rugs covering the oak wood floors, and vintage pieces of furniture gracing the walls. The bed itself looked to be made out of old pallets, stained a nice deep color. The walls were adorned with pictures, and you slid out of bed to look at them. The first one was a beautiful black and white shot, with only two hands in the frame, showcasing a shining ring. The second one was of you, laughing hysterically as Sam pushed you on a tire swing hanging from a tree whose leaves were beginning to change colors. The last one, big and in the center of the far wall, was of you and Sam. Sam was dressed nicely in a tux, while you were wearing a lace wedding dress. There were pine trees in the scenery behind you,  along with Aspen trees that had just changed to a magnificent showing of yellow and orange. It was a beautiful picture, but was drew you to it was the look of udder adoration on Sam's face as he stared down at you. 

"Y/N?" Sam's voice rang out from the bathroom door, and you saw him standing there, just a towel wrapped around his waist. It was a very enticing view, and if you hadn't been so confused about what was going on, you would have gone over there and run your hands down his bare chest. Instead, you turned your attention back to the picture on the wall, wishing it had been real, and not some dream you were still stuck in. "Y/N." He said again, this time coming closer to you, and you almost flinched when he placed his hand on your shoulder. "You're not acting like yourself and it's worrying me. Please, sweetie, talk to me."

"This just all feels like a dream. Where's Dean, and the Impala? And our crappy motel rooms. But wait, last I saw of you, you were falling into the hole with Lucifer. Any minute now I'm going to wake up in my motel room, with another hunt to do." You turned on him, frustrated that your mind would play a trick on you like this. You had never considered yourself one for wanting a regular life, so why would you dream one up? You were a Reaper, or had been until Lucifer had taken that from you too, and Reaper's weren't supposed to dream about human lives. 

"Hunting? Dean? Sweetie, you've never even met Dean. How do you even know he drives an Impala?" Sam asked, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" You asked him, as you wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging yourself tightly. 

"Calling in to work. I have no pressing cases today, and I would rather be here with you. So we can figure this out."

You shrugged, but then his previous words hit you. "What do you mean I've never met Dean? He's your brother, you two were inseparable. In fact, he tried to kill me when he realized I was a Reaper!" You shouted, your hands on your hips. Sam came forward, pressing his hand against your forehead, checking for a fever.

"Wow, that's one weird dream you had. Are you sure you don't want to sleep it off, see if it makes you feel any better?" He suggested, and you could tell he was at a loss. 

Feeling defeated, you slouched back on the bed, covering your face with your hands. "Fine. If my story isn't making since, tell me. How did we meet?"

"You mean you don't remember?" He asked, hurt lacing his voice. "Fine. I was at Stanford, and I met you at my friends party. You were there as the bartender, and I fell for you the instant you handed me a beer."

"So, no supernatural beings? How about your parents?" You asked cautiously.

He raised an eyebrow at you. "No, there's no such thing as ghosts, or other things that go bump in the night. And yes, you've met my Mom and Dad. They were both at our wedding. They're back in Kansas."

"But why not Dean?" You asked him, as he pulled you tight into his chest, running his hand up and down your arm. You let him, the movement comforting you.

"Because Dean, well. Dean's different, and he travels the county, doing different jobs. He was on the other side of the country, and couldn't make it back." Sam told you, and you could tell how much it bothered him that his brother hadn't made it.

The two of you stayed silent for a moment, the movement of his arms lulling you into a sense of comfort, and you felt your eyelids growing heavy. Letting sleep overtake you, your last thought of how nice it was to be in Sam's arms, for at least the moment.