19 | Provenance

A/n: Sorry.

Edit: Okay, heehee :)

I've mentioned Elvis in here and I wouldn't have if I'd read Twist and Shout before. So, sorry if your little Destiel heart gets an ache :((:

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Part 1

Someone can be madly in love with you and still not be ready to be with you.

Three and a half years ago

You skim through the lines of your textbook. Hardly a week after settling into college, you had a pile of homework. You were exhausted and you felt your eyes closing. You curse yourself because of staying up the previous night to read a 'Stone Cold'. A novel that was pretty interesting.

You sit up straight with a small snort, that you cover with a cough when someone sits across you. You try shaking away your drowsiness; not wanting others to see and possibly making fun of you. You had seen Legally Blonde. Though you weren't as glamorous as Elle Woods.

"Want to study together?" The boy asks and your face lights up in recognition.

"Sam?" You whisper as you look at his smiling face. You had seen him in one of your classes but couldn't talk to him because Madison would whisk you away to meet her friends.

"Hey, Y/n," he says. "I saw you sitting here and- you don't mind me sitting here, do you?" He asks, tentatively.

"No, no. Not at all," you pull your textbook to leave more space on the mahogany table.

He smiles as he takes his book out from his bag.

You try focusing on your textbook and not looking at him. You still couldn't help yourself from glancing at him.

You raise your eyebrow at his definition of studying together.

"So, what are you studying?" You ask.

He glances down at his books. "Uh, I'm doing the assignment that Mrs. Mantle gave."

"Same," you sigh.

Without thinking, you get up and walk over to the other side of the table to sit next to Sam. He looks surprised but you give him a small smile. As you pull your textbooks towards yourself, you yawn.

He chuckles softly as he sees and you blush in embarrassment, covering your mouth with the back of your hand when you realized that you hadn't.

"I, uh-"

"Shh!"

You frown and look at the librarian who was standing at the edge of your table with a glare.

"Uh, sorry," Sam says awkwardly and turns to his textbook, though keeping an eye on the man as he receded to his desk.

You stop yourself from laughing as Sam looks back at you and shrugs with an exaggerated expression.

You turn back to your books with a lingering smile, you and Sam still sitting beside each other.

A while later, you feel something pushing against your arm that was resting on the table.

You look up and see Sam sporting a boyish grin with his hand on a paper.

You take the paper from him with an eyebrow raised and read it.

How's college been treating you?

You look at him and smile as you scribble down your answer.

Ugh don't ask :(

He frowns a bit.

You're in my class, right?

Yep.

I wasn't able to talk to you because of how fast you left class.

Haha, yeah. My friend, Madison, made me meet with all her friends.

Oh, she was the one who was on the dance floor at the party right?

You laugh softly when you see what Sam wrote, your mind going back to how the dance floor had come alive when Maddie was dancing. You and Sam could hear the whole dance floor chanting Maddie's name.

Yeah, one and only greatest dancer ever

Sam smiles a bit as he writes on the paper. yeah seemed really fun. i wish we danced too

yeah i could've pulled my coveted dance move. jumping in one place.

Sam snorts and the librarian shoots his head out of an aisle to glare at the two of you. You fake study and smile up at Sam in amusement when the librarian's head darts back in.

"We'll dance at the next one," you whisper, sneaking a look at Sam and looking back down at your book.

"Yeah," he whispers. "At the next one."

So, what did you want to talk to me about?

You cram your question in the little space left on the small paper. Sam smiles a bit as he reads your question and scribbles down his answer on the other side of the sheet.

How are you?

You chuckle softly and smile at him.

Just the usual. Regretting my life choices.

Sam frowns again as he reads what you wrote. A second later, he passes the paper to you, looking around for people. There were a few more students, scattered around the library, not paying attention to the two of you.

Do you regret coming to Stanford?

You smile at his handwriting. It was pretty neat unlike yours.

I don't want to be a lawyer. You consider scratching it; it was something you wouldn't want to tell a random guy. But there was something about Sam that made you trust him.

You hoped that you wouldn't have to add trusting him to your list of regrets.

Oh?

You smile sadly. All you ever wanted was to become a photographer. You loved animals and nature. Somehow, whenever you went anywhere, to a forest or a desert even, you always found it beautiful. You found beauty in the way dew fell of leaves in a forest, the beauty in the calmness of a desert.

long story, you write and give Sam a small smile. He looks concerned and opens his mouth to speak but you turn back to your books to finish your assignment.

•

"Mom. Calm- Calm down!" You say as you try making out what your mom was rambling on about.

You had decided to call her after all and while the starting of the call was fine when you were about to cut it, she started speaking of how you should forget them after you remembered everything.

"Baby, you need to understand. Don't search for us after you remember. You won't like what you see," she breathes out after a choked sob and the line goes dead.

"What happened?" Sam asks with knitted eyebrows. He was sitting across you at the bar.

"I don't know," you say, still reeling back from the craziness of what your mom was suggesting.

Remember what? And what wouldn't you like?

"One sec," you say as you dial your dad's number.

"Hey, princess!" He says cheerfully.

"Where are you guys?" You ask as you gaze into Sam's eyes; his colourful irises giving you a sense of comfort.

"In Minnesota. Why?"

"Why is Mom crying?" You ask, the pit in your stomach making you lose your appetite. You look at the half-eaten burger with a side of fries on the table with distaste.

You frown when your dad takes a while to answer. "Oh! She's watching one of her movies," he says with a small chuckle.

You press your lips, not convinced with what your dad said.

"She told me that when I remembered that I should forget you guys," you say and blink your eyes a bit to stop the tears; you could never imagine forgetting your parents.

"Remember what?" Your dad asks and you take a deep breath.

"I don't know, Dad," you say exasperated. "Is she fine?" You ask again, not wanting your mom to cry over some non-existent issue.

"Yeah, princess. She's fine," he says and you nod a bit as you chew the inside of your cheek.

"So, how's it been?" Your dad asks.

"Who's John Winchester?" You ask, ignoring his question. Sam raises his eyebrows at you. You gaze into his eyes again as you give him a half-smile.

"John Winchester," he breathes, "is a very dangerous man, Y/n," your dad says slowly and you frown as you look at Sam.

Sam raises his eyebrow as if asking you what was wrong and you shake your head, refusing to believe that John would be dangerous. You had met him and he seemed nice enough. Well, except for when he pointed the gun at you. But that was because he thought you were dangerous.

"Dad, how do you know him?" You ask, hoping your dad wouldn't get suspicious of your questions.

"We go way back," your dad says with a small chuckle.

Like that didn't confuse you even more.

"Never mind that," your dad says as he changes the topic.

~

"I think I got a case," Sam says after a while.

You were still frowning at what your mom had said. You shake your head slightly as you ignore the nagging feeling in your mind and look at Sam holding a newspaper in his hand. At the same time, Dean walks over to the table with two beers in hand. You told him that you hadn't wanted one.

The last time you drank a beer, you got abducted. It would take you a while to recover from that.

"Alright, so I think I got something."

"Oh, yeah me too. We need to take a shore leave. What do you think, huh?" Dean asks as he looks back at a girl at the bar. She had brown hair and pretty brown eyes. "I'm in the door with this one."

You take the newspaper from Sam and quickly read the article while smiling at what Dean said.

Sam scoffs. "So what are we today, Dean? Are we rock stars? Army rangers?"

You smile in amusement. It was funny to think of how Dean pretended to be a rock star. But then again, these guys had fake FBI badges and lied for a living. You bite the inside of your lip when you realize how comfortable you were with all that they did; monster hunting, credit card scams, and impersonating officers.

"Reality TV scouts. Looking for people with special skills," he says as he glances at you with a smile and back at the girl. When you look back at the bar, you see a blonde woman talking to the brunette.

Dean chuckles."But, hey, it's not that far off, right? By the way, she's got a friend there."

The blonde and brunette eye your table, or more specifically eye Sam and Dean. You raise your eyebrows.

"I can hook you up," Dean says, glancing at you slightly as you fix your eyes on the newspaper article.

You think back to when you told Dean about your feelings for Sam. That was a long time back. It had been months. So you didn't blame him if he didn't think you had feelings for him anymore. If you did, you would've made a move, right? But there was something holding you back.

Guilt.

It felt wrong to tell Sam your feelings when Jess hadn't even been dead a year. It felt like you were taking advantage of the situation.

Because of your overthinking, you didn't hear what Sam and Dean were talking about.

"Dean, uh, no thanks," Sam says as he glances at you with a small smile subtly. But Dean notices and smirks a bit as he glances down. "I can get my own dates."

"Yes, you can. But you don't," Dean says as he raises his eyebrows and his eyes slide to you.

"That's- what is that supposed to mean?" Sam asks as he folds his arms on the table, glancing at you to see if you were listening.

"Nothing," Dean breathes out. He nudges you when he sees that you have the newspaper article. "What do you got?"

You look at him before sighing and look back down at the newspaper. "Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their home just a few days ago," while you speak, Dean glances at the girls at the bar. "Their throats were slit. No prints, no weapons. God, imagine dying like that in your own home," you pause when you notice Dean's attention was somewhere else. "Dean?" You ask. He turns back to you guys, slightly irritated and looking a bit confused.

"No prints or murder weapons, doors and windows locked from the inside," Sam says for you and you give him a small awkward smile. You mentally slap yourself for not listening to Sam's response to Dean's suggestion of hooking him up.

"Could just be a garden-variety murder. You know, not our department," Dean says as he brings his glass up to his lips, trying to look at the girls without you and Sam noticing.

Sam puts a finger up as he turns their dad's journal around to face you and Dean. "No. Dad says different."

"What do you mean?" Dean asks as his attention piques.

"Look. Dad noted three murders in the same area of Upstate New York. First one, right here in 1912," he puts his finger on the book's page, "the second one in 1945 and the third in 1970. The same M.O. as the Telescas, throats slit and the locks were locked from the inside. So much time passed between the murders that nobody checked the pattern except for dad. He always kept his eyes open," Sam says and you nod in admiration. You had to admit, that was impressive.

"And now we got one," Dean says as he purses his lips and nods.

"Exactly," Sam says and glances at the two of you.

After Dean asked whether you guys could leave tomorrow instead of that night, he sauntered over to the bar as you and Sam chuckled at him.

"So, you aren't going to join him?" You ask as you glance back down to look at the newspaper. You keep your face straight.

"Uh, no," Sam says slowly as he frowns.

So, she wasn't listening, Sam thinks.

"Why not?" You ask; feeling a bit fearless. You keep your eyes trained down so he can't see how nervous you were for his answer.

"I don't know, Y/n. I can't just hook up with someone," he says and you look at him. You assumed that his eyebrows were raised but you couldn't see because of the hair that was covering his forehead.

"If I remember correctly, it was Abigail Simmons that you-"

"That was one time!" Sam exclaims and you laugh.

"So?" You ask as he joins you in laughing.

When you guys stop laughing you purse your lips. "Seriously, though," you stop before speaking softly, "Jess would've wanted you to move on."

Sam scoffs as he sits back in his seat and folds his arms like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum because he didn't want to eat broccoli. "I don't get what is it with you and Dean!"

You frown. "What?"

"I'm-," he looks at you with knitted eyebrows and speaks in a defeated tone, "I can't. Not now."

You nod as you put your hands up in mock surrender.

You don't notice the way Sam looks at you. A thousand emotions surge his mind as he stares at you.

Your heart was wrenching in your chest but you ignored it as you give the Winchester a small smile.

"Yeah, sorry, " your smile falters a bit but you maintain your poker face.

~~

Upstate New York

"This place is...fancy," you say as you take in your surroundings.

You glance at the antique statues and expensive vases with, no doubt, price tags with five digits on them. You try not to knock anything over as you cringe at the rich people with their tailored suits and fabulous dresses. You had worn a white simple milkmaid top and flared jeans with your sneakers but obviously, your look was too casual for the venue.

By the way the other buyers were whispering while staring at you and the guys, you assume that you guessed correctly.

"Consignment auctions, estate sales, looks like a garage sale for WASP," Dean says to you and Sam as he glances at the expensive items on sale. He takes a mini quiche from a waiter passing by you guys. You would have taken one too but someone speaks behind the three of you.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" A man wearing a suit says as walks up to the three of you. "Lady," he says as you guys turn around.

You nod a bit in acknowledgement as you think of an excuse for who you guys were.

Before you can even think of anything, Dean looks him up and says: "I'd like some champagne, please."

You raise your eyebrows at what Dean said as you smile awkwardly at the suited man.

"He's not a waiter," Sam tells Dean.

Dean shrugs slightly and you smirk at how he probably knew that.

Sam extends his hand to the man and says: "I'm Sam Conners." When the man stares at his hand, Sam continues speaking awkwardly while withdrawing his hand. "This is my brother Dean and our friend Y/n."

The man looks at the three of you. "You're art dealers?" He asked with a smile that to you was obviously fake.

"That's right," Dean says as he swallows his quiche.

"I'm Daniel Blake. This is my auction house," he says and you cringe slightly. "Now, gentlemen, this is a private showing and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list."

Before you can answer, Dean does.

"We're there, chuckles. You just need to take another look."

You bite on your lip to keep from laughing as Dean turns around when he sees a waiter with champagne. He sighs. "Oh, finally."

He picks up two champagne flutes and hands one to you as Sam awkwardly smiles at Daniel.

"Cheers," you say while first raising your champagne flute a bit in the old man's direction and then clink it with Dean's flute.

~

"A fine example of American Primitive, wouldn't you say?" A woman says and the three of you turn away from the painting.

A family of five had been painted on the canvas in a rather dull palette. There were three kids, a man looking down and a woman holding a toddler.

When you turn back, you suddenly felt self-conscious about what you were wearing after seeing the woman who looked your age descending the stairs wearing a deep V-neck black dress. She was beautiful and well put together.

Sam turns back to the painting with a smile. "Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood and Grandma Moses."

You raise your eyebrows questioningly as the woman comes and stands in front of you guys.

"But you knew that. You just wanted to see if I did," Sam says with a smile playing on his lips as he turns back to the woman.

"Guilty," the woman says as she looks at Dean and you. You smile back. "And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake."

"I'm Sam," he says after hesitating a bit. "This is my brother Dean and our friend Y/n."

"Dean, Y/n," Sarah pauses as she looks at your hand, "Can I get you more mini quiches."

Your face falls slightly when you notice the two quiches in your hand. You laugh awkwardly as Dean speaks for you.

"No thanks. We're good," he says and you smile at him gratefully.

Sarah looks at the two of you with an eyebrow raised. "So, can I help you guys with something?"

"Yeah actually," Sam says as he turns back to the creepy painting. "Can you tell us about the Telesca estate?"

"The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me. Selling their things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing. Sensationalism brings out the crowds," she glances back to look at the potential buyers walking around the room. "Even the rich ones," she smiles.

"Is it possible to see the provenance?"

You frown a bit at the word but let Sam continue doing his thing.

"I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that," Daniel Blake says as he walks up to your guys from behind Sarah.

"Why not?" Sam asks as he frowns.

"You're not on the guest list," he says as he looks at Dean and you. "It's time to leave."

"We don't have to be told twice," Dean says.

"Apparently you do," Daniel says in a stern voice.

"Okay, it's alright. We don't want any trouble. We'll go," Sam says.

You give Daniel a fake smile. "Thanks, Dan. Food was great."

You don't see the lingering looks Sam and Sarah share.

~~

You were sick of the ugly feeling that was keeping you from doing anything. You weren't sure if it was something to do with the fact that Sam had gone on a date with Sarah to get the provenance of that painting.

Provenance was a record of ownership of a work of art or an antique, used as a guide to authenticity or quality.

You may or may not have searched that on the internet.

You had decided to cook a nice meal for yourself instead of joining Dean in cleaning and sharpening their weapons. You agreed to make some food for him too. But you couldn't bring yourself to cook.

The feeling made you want to break stuff.

So finally, you decided to play some music on your laptop and dance instead of breaking something in your motel room. To loosen up your nerves.

You were moving your arms in random directions, slowly, with your eyes closed, to match the slow dance songs you were playing. It was kinda hard to ignore the nagging in your mind but you tried your best to focus on your dancing. You were used to the queue of your music and were waiting for your favourite.

"Y/n," someone breathes out from behind you.

Your eyes fly open as you turn around.

You see Sam looking at you with widened eyes and his mouth slightly hanging with his hand on the door handle as if he had closed the door behind him. His suit was rumpled slightly with the collar button open and the tie pulled down. He was holding a few papers in her right hand.

"Sam? What are you doing here?" You ask as your cheeks heat up and you make your way to the table to stop the music.

"I-uh," he turns around and scratches his head slightly. "I heard some song playing and I thought I check in on you."

You nod and give him a tight-lipped smile. "So? How was your date?"

"I got the provenance," he raises his arm and waves the papers. He sits down across you on the chair.

"That's it?" You ask, quite surprised. Sam and Sarah both seemed pretty into each other.

"What do you mean?" He asks, frowning.

"You know..."

"No, I don't," he says with a challenging smile.

You scoff. "You see, Sammy," you say in the way adults talk when they try explaining something to kids, "when a man and a woman like each other and they both are willing, they go into the bedroom-"

"Hey! Woah, woah! We are not doing that," he says with raised eyebrows as he puts his finger up.

You chuckle at his expression.

Sam looks at you with a smile. You frown when you realize it and right when you were about to ask him what was wrong, he says: "Dance with me."

"What?"

"Dance with me," he leaves the papers on the table and gets up while extending his arm towards you.

Surely this was a dream. Or a prank.

"Uh, I don't- I was just about to sleep," you say as you gaze at your bed.

"At nine twenty?" He asks with a small smile.

"At nINE TweNTy?" You mutter, mocking the Winchester.

Sam chuckles. "I don't sound like that!"

You look into his eyes and study his body language.

He wasn't drunk. He wasn't joking.

"Sam, are you fine?" You ask as you get up, to make your way to get your robe to cover up what you were wearing so you could take Sam to Dean. You were wearing the top from that day and shorts.

He grabs your hand and you gasp in surprise.

"Sam?" You ask as he presses a key on your laptop and pulls you to the middle of the room where there was a lot of space.

"You look nice," he says softly, eyes filled with sincerity.

The first chords of the song waft in the air between the two of you as Sam puts his huge arms on your waist and you hesitantly put yours on his shoulder.

Wise men say,

"Are you sure you're fine?" You ask as he pulls you to the side as you guys dance.

Only fools rush in.

"Can't I just feel like dancing with you?"

But I can't help falling in love with you.

"No," you say and look at him as if he was crazy. But you were enjoying it.

You glance down to see and see your bare feet with his shoes.

He smiles at you slightly as you try not to step on his shoes.

You had danced before with your dad when you were small but your dad wasn't as tall as Sam. It was going to take a bit getting used to.

Like you would dance with him again, you scoff in your head. Though, there was a sliver of hope that shined in your mind.

"You've never been slow dancing, have you?" You ask as you notice how stiff his movement was.

"No, I was too busy hunting monsters," he says like it was the most obvious thing.

Oh, shall I stay?

"You didn't have a date to prom to dance with?" You ask, quite amused at the idea of Sam Winchester not having a date to prom.

Would it be a sin, oh, if I can't help falling in love with you?

His face falls and you frown. "I've never been to prom."

"Oh," is all you have to say. You were pretty sure Sam had talked about his prom experience in college one time, but it was a lie obviously. Before you can dwell on the thought of how much more of his life was a lie to you, you focus on looking at him.

The hazel and green-eyed boy in front of you was so innocent. Looked so ordinary. Only a few knew what hardships he had to go through.

From a young age, he had to carry the burden of his mom's death as his dad took him hunting. You could never imagine your childhood being like that. He was not allowed to have a normal childhood. He or Dean.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you.

"Well, we're dancing now," you say with a small smile. "Consider this your prom night," you look at the silver and black motel room that was designed to look like a disco with a few disco balls hanging on the ceiling. "Though it's not as good-"

"I love it," Sam says with a smile.

You smile at him and take a leap of faith. You move closer so that you're only inches apart. You hear Sam's breath hitch slightly and smirk as you look down. He doesn't hesitate in wrapping his arm around your waist.

The hope you were feeling grew.

Like a river flows surely to the sea.

Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.

You realize that you guys had stopped dancing and were just staring into each other's eyes. He into your brown ones and you into his colorful ones.

Take my hand, take my whole life, too.

You close your eyes as you marvel in the feeling of having him hold you in his arms. The feeling of his breath fanning over your forehead.

"Sam," you whisper. You were too scared to open your eyes. Too scared to open them and see that it was all a dream.

A voice in your head shouted for you to stop this nonsense. But the rest of you? The rest of you was singing in desire. In need.

In love.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek. You open your eyes and hold your breath when you see him gazing down at you, his eyes darkened slightly.

He bends down and you close your eyes again when you feel his soft lips brushing yours.

Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you.

You hear the clicking of your door opening.

"Hey, Y/n, where's my," Dean slows down when he sees Sam and you. You pull away from Sam so fast that you might as well have jumped out of his arms. You walk to your laptop to stop the music. "Dinner?" Dean completes as he raises his eyebrows and looks between you a Sam, a smile slowly forming on his lips.

You clear your throat and push your hair behind your ear as Sam gives Dean a tight-lipped smile. You look at the Winchesters and feel a surge of irritation pass through you.

"Why is my door always unlocked?!"

~~

Sam's POV

"Ugly ass thing," Dean says as he throws the match at the canvas of the painting. "Doing the art world a favour if you ask me," he continues as he looks at Sam and Y/n.

Sam purses his lips and looks at the girl. He exhales and looks back at Dean when he sees her clearly avoiding his eyes.

After the incident, Sam had tried talking to Y/n whenever he could. Explain himself. But definitely not in front of Dean because of how he looked at Y/l/n suggestively and smirked at the younger Winchester.

He tried talking to her when Dean went to the bathroom or when he went back to get the provenance he left in her room. But to no avail. She just waved him away or pushed him out of the room.

Sam knew he shouldn't overthink it. Lately, around her especially, he couldn't think straight. He always had to know whether she was safe or not and for some reason, always felt functional when he was around her.

Sam brushed it off as a feeling he had because of the four years that they knew each other.

He thinks back to when they danced to Elvis. It was just a few hours ago. It may have not been his favorite artist singing but Sam liked the song. He wasn't thinking when he bent down to brush his lips over her soft ones. He wasn't thinking at all.

He didn't know that by giving in to the commands of that small voice in the back of his head, things would become awkward between them.

What would have happened if Dean hadn't walked in?

Sam also took in that time when they were at the bar and Dean had interrupted them then too.

Would she have kissed him then?

All these questions made Sam feel sick. He remembers the party the first night he met Y/n. He wanted to kiss her then too. He regretted not doing it every time he saw her later. The moment had passed though and he never knew how to cross that line. And then he met Jess.

~

"So, did I disturb you guys before?" Dean asks in the motel room. He smiles lopsidedly at Sam as the younger Winchester shakes his head.

"Shut up, Dean."

"Oh, come on! She's obviously into you and you're obviously into her. So..." Dean trails off suggestively.

Sam scoffs at what Dean says but can't help but feel the butterflies in his stomach. Dean continues speaking.

"I mean, Sarah? She's a nice girl but I think Y/n's the real deal," he concludes while nodding with a stupid grin on his face.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam replies warily. "She pulled away when I tried to kiss her."

"Well then, try harder!" Dean throws his arms up. "I can't bear the eye sex you guys have all the time!"

Sam was about to throw the motel's complimentary pen at Dean when they hear a knock on their door.

Dean gets up cautiously, surprised at who would come at that time.

The older Winchester opens the door and sighs slightly in relief. Sam sits up in his bed, to see who was there at the door.

"Hey, Y/n," Dean says. "Come in."

"Actually, Sam?" Y/n says as she looks at him sitting on the bed. "Can we talk outside?"

Sam takes frowns a bit before nodding and getting up. He looks at Dean for assistance but is only greeted with a wink and a thumbs up that the girl didn't notice.

Sam shuts the door behind him and looks around at the dimly lit motel parking lot. The Impala was in front of them and Y/n was facing it. He notices the way she tapped her foot on the ground and wrung her fingers.

"Hey. What's wrong?" Sam asks softly.

"How was your date with Sarah?" She asks, her voice edged.

Sam rears back a bit in confusion. "My date with Sarah? It- it wasn't a date."

"Huh," Y/n scoffs softly, looking down.

"Why," Sam asks, placing his hand on her forearm. This was the last thing he imagined she would want to talk about.n"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. When we were dancing," Sam says softly again. He awaited Y/n's response. Would she say that she wanted the kiss too or would she tell him to forget about it?

"No, you didn't," she says looking around. She was looking all around and not looking at the one thing he wanted her to look at- him. Something was wrong. He takes his arm off hers and takes a small step back, uncertainty spreading through him as his heart sinks a bit. He buries his hands in his pockets to keep from placing them on Y/n's cheeks to make her look at him.

"Y/n..."

"Makeshift prom was fun right?" She asks, a small smile on her face.

"Yeah," Sam says slowly, unsure of what to feel at the moment. Was this a greenlight or not? He takes a step forward again and fits one hand to Y/n's waist and the other under her chin to make her look at him. Finally, she was looking at him with those beautiful eyes. Sam takes a breath as his heart soared in his chest. The hope he was feeling enlarged in his mind and spread to the whole of his body. He felt tingly and energetic. He felt like he was a teenager again.

"Sam," Y/n mutters and Sam can't even begin to understand why her voice sounded so pained when he lowered his head a bit. Y/n pulls her head back and then Sam understands why she said his name the way she did. Oh. His heart sinks. He immediately takes his arms back and looks down, confusion and heartbreak not letting him feel humiliated over being rejected.

"We're friends, right?" Y/n asks, her voice feeble and Sam's too high on the adrenaline to hear the question in her voice.

"Yeah," Sam breathes out and looks up at her to give her a small smile. He sees her eyes dart to his lips, his dimple. "Yeah."

A silence envelops them. "Good night, Sam," Y/n says finally and walks past him, touching his arm as she goes. Sam almost brings his hand up to touch her, hold her. Anything. He couldn't let her go.

"Yeah, good night," Sam says quietly to no one.

Sam stands there for a minute, confused. His heart ached.

That's why he didn't like the feeling of liking someone. The heartache and the confusion. He wanted to break something.

He makes his way back to the room, in no mood to talk to Dean. He just wanted to go straight to bed; he knew that he would only toss and turn all night as restlessness and confusion would take up his mind's space.

Dean didn't have to ask what was wrong; Sam's face said everything.

That night, Sam lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling on which water had taken its toll by leaving cracks.

What had he expected? For her to tell that she loved him and for everything to be fine?

In Sam's experience, rarely anything in his life was fine.

Y/n's POV

You barely make it to your room before the tears start flowing down your cheeks and onto the ground.

You move to your bed soundlessly and jump on it. That's when you started sobbing uncontrollably. Your body shook with each sob.

You knew you had to say it. You knew that you would say it eventually.

Then why did it feel as if someone was crushing your heart? Like someone shot you.

You might as well have been shot.

It hurt so much.

That night, the pillow soaked all the tears you shed.

~

"So, you're going to take Sam to the auction house because he seemed into Sarah?" You ask as you look at Dean.

He had snuck into your room while you were sleeping and had woken you.

You had almost punched Dean because of how surprised you had gotten but he had simply enclosed your fist in his hand as he chuckled; you thought to hide his gasp.

You yawn as you make a cup of coffee. "And you're telling me this at eight in the morning because?"

You honestly didn't care anymore. You always were so hopeful in the matter of feelings and liking someone.

But after the previous night, you didn't care. Or at least, you tried not to.

You even considered leaving them. But you had made a promise to kill the bitch who killed Jess and you weren't one to back down from your word.

"I mean, last night? Between you and Sam?"

You sigh. You had forgotten that Dean had walked in on you and Sam dancing. Not dancing actually. Just standing in the middle of the room with music playing. You bet that Sam had talked about it to Dean.

"That was nothing, Dean," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Nothing? Have you seen the way Sammy looks at you? What you guys have? That's more than friendship," he says.

You raise your eyebrows at Dean. He normally didn't talk like this.

He notices how you were looking at him and raises his arms in mock surrender. "Hey, no chick-flicks."

You chuckle at what he says and look at him with a lingering smile. "Uh, I don't think so," you say bitterly.

"Is this some weird courting ritual," Dean asks as he takes a sip from his coffee.

"Ugh, shut up," you groan at him. "I don't know. I think in my head, I'm still the dumb girl who fell for her friend's boyfriend. Though, that was before they dated but," you frown, shaking your head slightly. "It's still too fresh in my mind. Jess's death," your throat constricts as you say it. Dean has a look of understanding on his face.

"Okay," he sets his cup on the counter. "Why do I have to be the one who always-" he mutters and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. He looks at you. "I'm gonna tell you what I think."

"No, thank you-"

"Yes. You both like each other. It's very obvious," he says with a pained expression. "Pull your head out of your ass. God, I've never had to push two people together more."

"Did you not hear what I said?"

"Y/n, I did and it's like you're stopping yourself from being happy," Dean says seriously, moving his hand to emphasise his point. "It's literally what this family does, Y/n. Huh, maybe we are a bad influence on you."

You scoff, nursing your cup of coffee against your chest, mulling over Dean's words.

"I-" you hesitate.

"Ha, gotcha," Dean says, and you can see he's trying to lighten up the mood now. His words run continuously in the back of your mind. "Man, maybe going through all this trauma is making me emotionally smart."

"Please, you're the most emotionally constipated person I've ever met," you shoot back at Dean and snort at the shrug he gives, not denying what you said.

~~

You chomp down on the most amazing burger you'd ever eaten.

To you, eating was everything. It made everything better. The grease which should be giving you heart problems somehow cured your heart problems. The ones involving Sam, anyway.

After Dean had told you where he was taking Sam, you slept for another hour and then decided to explore New York on foot. It was a long walk to places with good food but you didn't regret it because of the beauty you held in your hand. You took a picture to make Dean jealous later.

Your pocket buzzes; the phone in it vibrates as someone calls you.

You set your burger on your plate gingerly, wipe your hands on your jeans and pull your phone out.

You bring the phone up to your ear as you take a sip of your Cola.

"Hey, Y/n," Dean starts off but you interrupt him in excitement.

"Dean, you won't believe what I'm eating right now."

"That's not- wait. What are you eating?" He asks and you can almost hear the hunger in his voice.

You look at the burger as if it was a precious exhibit at a museum and start describing it.

People looked at you weirdly but they would never understand the love you had for food. Never. Well, maybe, except for Dean.

By the way he said 'oh' when you talked about what it was made of made you chuckle.

It was like he was having an orgasm but because of food. A...foodgasm?

You suddenly hear a rustle like the phone hit something and Dean's voice saying, "What's your problem," and then you hear Sam speaking.

"Hey, Y/n. Come to the motel right now," he says sternly.

"Sammy, you got me feeling all tingly when you speak like that," you say before thinking.

You widen your eyes immediately and cradle your head with your free hand as you swear. When a few seconds go by and Sam doesn't respond probably because he was taken aback, you swear again.

"Yeah, I'm on my way," you say.

You cut the call and sigh as you clench your jaw.

You made jokes like that before things got so...intense between the two of you. Hopefully, he didn't think anything of it.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/n: Hey guys!

Hope you guys liked the chapter!

Now, let me tell you guys, this is an eventual Sam Winchester× Reader.

I feel like he's still not over Jess and the M/C is her self-conscious and funny self. They just need that nudge ;-) which will come soon I swear.

I hardly got on with what happens in this episode and it's already huge, so that's why there's a second part!!!!!

Yay!

I want to thank the readers who have stayed with me till now. Hopefully, the story becomes mention-worthy. Hopefully.

Let this chapter sink in.

Stay Safe! Stay Home!

XOXO