Listen | Sam Winchester X Reader

xxiii.

Sam drove their new car they hijacked. I sat awkwardly in the passenger seat for some time, playing with the window occasionally to pass the time. I couldn't believe I was back in this car. I wanted to say something, but what if I made it worse? I also knew I couldn't bear to work the rest of this job like this. Anything is better than nothing.

"Sam-" I began but I couldn't continue.

"No." Sam cut me off, not allowing me to go any further. I allowed it for a few seconds, purely out of shock of his response. But I couldn't just leave it there.

"Sam, I-" I started again.

"No. You don't get to say sorry." Sam kept looking forward, I could see his jaw clench which was a classic 'I'm frustrated' Sam move.

"Good, because I'm not." I said, which was true. I still thought I did the right thing.

"Excuse me?" Sam responded, finally getting his attention. He finally parked in front of the widows house and we continued our conversation there.

"I'm not sorry." I repeated, "I'm sorry about Bobby, I really wish that didn't happen. But I'm not sorry about leaving. Sam, you and Dean needed to deal with things that I couldn't be there for. That I would've made so much harder and maybe they would've never gotten done if I was around.-"

"Or maybe it would've been a whole lot easier with you around." Sam suggested, not exactly allowing me to finish my nonsense.

"Really? You'd want to have the reminder around all the time? You'd want to see the girl who killed your surrogate dad all the time? Because I don't believe that for a second." I crossed my arms, nearly tearing up.

"(Y/N)? You didn't kill him are you crazy? I don't blame you, I blame Dick Roman -- I -- I blame Dean and I for not just picking you both up and taking you to the van ourselves. I blame Bobby for not getting his head out of the line of fire, like he taught us!" Sam said, "People die all the time in this line of work. Does it really suck and hurt that Bobby's gone? Hell yeah. But we cared about you, I cared about you and you chose to leave. That hurt more."

I sat there, soaking it in and knowing I didn't have a good comeback to that. I stared at my fingers in shame, I did regret leaving when he put it like that.

"But if you're not sorry, whatever, you know. I'll get over it. I've got a job to do." Sam got out of the car before I could say a thing. I stayed sitting there for a minute before joining him at the door just as the widow opened the door.

"Hello?" She opened up the door, trying to be bright.

"Hi, this is Agent Grant, I'm Agent Butler, we're from the FBI. We just had a few questions for you. Do you mind if we come in?" Sam introduced with very little good natured tones.

"Yes, of course." She let us in, Sam trying to be as far away from me as possible.

Walking in I saw a giant map with little yarn traveling to different places around the world, in order to break the ice I pointed it out, "Wow, this is amazing."

"Thank you, every time Dale went to a new place he'd always come back with a new pin." She said, leading us into the sitting room.

"Your husband did a lot of traveling, huh?" Sam followed her.

"He went to all kinds of exotic places for the best ingredients." She sat down, fondly remembering her husband.

"Right. I've tried his work. It's – it's great." Um, we've heard you're not exactly on the best of terms with Dale's old partners." Sam smiled, charming her. He was so cute. It made my heart feel as though it would burst.

"Well, they sold his company right out from under him. It's not about money. It's about... It was his baby, you know?" She sighed, putting her head in her hands.

"You sound pretty upset about it." You said, not sure whether to reach out and console her or be weary of her motive.

"I'm furious. I hate them." She popped back up, seeing your guys' expressions, "I do realize I just said that to a couple of FBI agents, but agents, have either of you ever loved someone that you'd do anything for their happiness? Feel what they feel, just because you care for them? If you think I'm crazy, imagine how Dale felt."

Sam and I shifted uncomfortably, both of us looking to each other when the other wasn't looking. She saw us, and nodded her head, understanding what we denied.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to break off the horrible uncomfortable atmosphere.

"His friends left him behind, but you know what he said?" She almost began crying, "'I'm gonna send them a gift that shows I forgive them.'"

"Do you have any idea what he sent them?" Sam asked, also making sure to not make eye contact with me.

"Bottle of sake. From one of his trips. In a gorgeous box with writing. He was so careful with it. Wouldn't let me touch it." A tear fell from the widows eye, she really needed someone to talk to.

"Thank you, ma'am. I think that's all we needed today." Sam stood up first, and already began walking out.

"Thank you for your time, our condolences for your husband." I said, a bit softer than Sam had.

She grabbed my hand, "Dear, you're young. And when you're young you want to waste all this time, messing around, never admitting your feelings. Promise me, you'll stop that. Listen for once."

"Uh- yes, miss. I promise." I said, in a panic. I thanked her one last time before getting out of there. Sam was in the other room, but he heard everything.

We sat back in the car in silence. Sam started the car like normal, I kept my eyes staring at my knees. All these games were pointless. We knew how we felt about each other. Why were we doing all this? Sure it may be dumb, may be the worst decision ever. But I couldn't sit here with my hands in my lap anymore.

I looked up when Sam took the key out of the ignition, "(Y/N), I can't do this- I can't keep wondering about how-"

I kissed him. I don't remember making the decision to do that. I don't even remember leaning over to do it. It was quick and probably shocking to him. He didn't say anything. So, embarrassed, I sat back in my passenger seat. Silence was my worst nightmare for what would happen.

"Look, I'm not expecting anything from you. And I know that doesn't make up for anything but-" I started, but he played my own game. He kissed me that time. His lips were so soft as they held in place for what felt like hours. I felt so innocent again. This was my first kiss that actually means anything.

We stayed like this, in reality, for only a few moments. Kissing, pulling on each others necks and faces. As if we had been deprived of each other all our lives. Which in a way, I had. I whimpered as he lifted his lips from mine. Hugging me, he only moved his tender lips to my ear to say quietly:

"Just don't leave me again."