Supernatural Imagines

Space (Separation Pt 2)

People talk about California like it's always in a constant state of blue skies and fair weather. The world envies it's palm trees and it's celebrities. Every day is a day at the beach and people bathe in the sunlight and the sea.

In reality, it's exactly the opposite.

Even buttoning up your jacket to it's collar does nothing to keep the biting wind at bay as it blows your locks in a frenzy around your face. The crunching of dead leaves under your boots keeps your ears occupied from the whistle of the breeze as you walk across campus back to your shared apartment with Sam. It's your longest walk of the week, but you enjoy the serenity of having some time to yourself to think. Even with the autumn weather fighting your every step, your feet trudge forward in hope of returning to your nice, warm apartment.

Days after the incident with Dean, you returned to his small house with a box of his belongings in your hand. Still, you couldn't get rid of everything. One of his V-neck's still sat in the very back corner of your closet up at Stanford and you knew that even when your fall break ended and you returned back to school, you probably wouldn't throw it out. You liked the way that it used to fit his muscular body so well, and he liked the way the long torso of his shirt would cover you just enough to make him want to rip it off.

As you stood outside, the cardboard clenched tightly between your fists, you think of all the waste; 2 years of your life wasted on a man who didn't love you enough to stay faithful even though he promised before your first kiss that he would never pull a stunt so low. Months of tears for your relationship were gone too, along with the heaps of loving thoughts dedicated to Dean.

So when he opened that door again, you wordlessly shoved that box into his chest and walked away. He called after you, but if silence was what he chose for all those months then you could play his game too.

As you turn your key in the slot and enter the apartment, a pleasant smell washes past your red nose. "Is that pie?" You grin, noticing Sam in the kitchen wearing a short apron and holding a pan.

"Um, yeah," he smiles. Sam sets the pan down on the countertop and removes his oven mitts. "I know how much you love apple pie, so I asked my mom for her recipe during break. I thought it would be a nice surprise."

You drop your bags on the couch and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his large torso. "Thank you Sam."

He winces and you pull away apologetically. "Crap, I forgot. Sorry."

"No, it's okay," Sam shushes, running his fingers along his bruised cheek as well. "At least the one on my stomach is almost gone."

You turn your attention to the pie, watching steam roll off the crust. "This looks pretty good, Sam! I didn't know you were a baker."

"Thanks," he beams. "You've taught me a lot of what I know."

"Oh, come on," you wave him off. "You did this all on your own."

"I've got an extra one in the fridge too for Charlie and Jo. My mom made that one and sent it back up here with us since we didn't eat it on Thanksgiving."

You furrow your brow. "You mean to tell me that a whole pie went uneaten in your house? The one with your pie loving brother?"

He laughs, noting a frown forming on your face at the thought of Dean. "She put it out on the table, but wouldn't let him eat any. I think it was her version of a punishment for what he did."

"That's kind of sweet," you smile, albeit sadly. "You guys have done so much for me, and I'm not even a blood relative. I don't know how to thank you."