Better in the Morning

“Hey,” Sam says, squinting at you in the sunlight.

“You feel okay?” you ask him, hoping you’ve erased all evidence of your tears.

He nods. “I think so. I mean, I’ve been better, but...” He chuckles. “I’ll survive.”

Now it’s your turn to nod. You want to turn around, to look at Dean, but you fight it.

“Um... thank you, for what you did. For Dean.”

You study his face for a moment. “I was only fixing the mess I made.”

Sam’s gaze follows a flock of seagulls overhead as he takes a deep breath, and then runs his hand through his brown locks. “Listen, [Y/N]... I know that something happened between you and my brother that night.”

Your stare freezes on his feet. Your heart stops dead in your chest. The last thing you ever wanted in the world was to hurt Sam Winchester, the man who stepped into your life and saved you without question. The man who caught you before a face-plant on the library steps. The feeling of lying with him in his bed, safe and secure, watching movies or talking, or just sleeping... You loved those moments with him. And for a while, you thought you loved him, too. “Sam,” you begin.

“No. It’s okay. I want you to know that. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my brother care about someone the way he cares about you. I would never take that away from him.”

“What are you talking about?”

He nods toward Dean, still standing by the water. “We’ve been through hell. Literally. And then some,” he says. “He chalked it up to alcohol because he was protecting me. He didn’t want to hurt me. And I believed him, at first. But, [Y/N], you don’t understand... when you were gone the next morning... you didn’t see him run through the bunker. He was scared. And when we found your note, I didn’t understand it. But he did, right away. He doesn’t know I know he still has it.”

You remember scribbling that note all too well.

“Last night, when he took off... he doesn’t get that angry unless it’s over someone he cares a lot for. He won’t say it out loud to me because he’s still trying to protect me, but he doesn’t have to.”

You look up. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” he says, waving his hands. “Don’t do that. I’m fine. We’re fine. I’ll always care about you. But look at you - you’re bigger than us. And I ... I didn’t know you...” His facade starts to break. “Why did you do that? What you gave up for us... how could you throw that away?”

You clench your teeth and study his expression in awe. “Because I could.”

His voice catches and he looks away.

“Because Sam Winchester doesn’t hesitate when it comes to saving people in trouble. Because he saved me,” you say. “Because Sam and Dean have jumped in harm’s way a million times to defend the innocent. Why shouldn’t someone do that for you?”

He shakes his head, puts his hands on his hips, and blinks a few times. He stares at the ground for a moment, then looks up at you. In one swift movement, he scoops you into his arms and presses you close to his chest.

“I’m fine, Sam,” you say, trying your damnedest to convince him. Or maybe you’re trying to convince yourself. “It’s not like I took your place in the void. I’m here.”

His cologne is faint, but it’s there. You breathe him in, locking the memory of his comforting scent away, never wanting to let him go. But you must.

“I... ” He pulls away and brushes your hair out of your face as he draws a shaky breath and gently caresses your cheek with his thumb. “You’re family, now.”

Half an hour later, when the boys think you’ve gone, the Impala purrs away from you. It’s hard to let Dean go when all you want to do is grab him by the collar and scream, “I love you, you idiot!” But they have work to do, and so do you.

Besides. It’s time to lock your emotions away again. You can’t be Death when your emotions make you weak, and if you can’t be Death... you can’t keep Sam and Dean out of the Empty.

Yet, after the car is long gone from sight and you can no longer hear the rich hum of its engine, Billie’s words echo in your tortured mind.‘Fate is not of chance, but by choice.’