sammy searches for the meaning of life (maybe)

After 2 AM

Title: After 2 AM
Word Count: 4,343
Pairing: Sam x Reader ( x Dean )
Request: Hi! Love your blog!! I was wondering if you’d maybe write something where Dean and the reader were dating before he became a demon and when he ran off, the reader and Sam turn to each other for comfort. Maybe one night they end up in a compromising position and end up kissing and maybe like a make out session. Basically they fall for each other while trying to deal with finding Dean. Please and thank you!

X

Your name: submit What is this?


“I’m asking for the last time. Where is my brother?” Sam’s voice appeared calm, in control. But you could hear the underlying mess underneath.

It had been 3 weeks since Dean had disappeared from the bunker, leaving only a note addressed to his younger brother.

You weren’t quite sure what to think. The man you thought you loved just up and left, without giving you any sort of explanation. What would a letter, specifically meant for Sammy, do for you? Did it mean he wanted you to search for him? Follow him, and maybe live a normal life together somewhere else. But of course it didn’t. That made no sense. It was only a silly fantasy of yours, and not one that you favored much. You could never live a normal life, of that you were sure. And neither you or Dean could leave Sam for any reason.

But why didn’t Dean leave you something? Did it mean, he never really loved you? After all your time together, the whispered I love you’s, the goodnight kisses and the mornings spent doing nothing in bed except being together. Through all of it, did those moments really mean nothing to him? You didn’t want to believe it. But you really had no choice.

Sam looked up from the demon and your eyes met. Sam had been struggling too. And he understood what you were going through. You’d both lost Dean. You and Sam had always been close, good friends. But since Dean had left, something felt different, less restrained. In all the moments of darkness, the two of you could still find happy moments together.

You’d started a sort of tradition. Whenever one of you couldn’t sleep — which was often — you would sit outside on the impala or drive somewhere with barely any trees and watch the sun come up over the horizon. It was beautiful. Sam made you feel safe and happy. He was the only light in the constant dark that surrounded you nowadays. And you were grateful for him.

Your friendship had taken a new level. Being each other’s only hope to keep searching for his brother and your boyfriend. And sometimes you caught yourself feeling guilty. Though you and Sam were doing nothing wrong, you were still afraid of what Dean would think.

“WHERE IS DEAN!” Sam yelled, raising his arm up to plunge it into the demon’s chest. In that moment, his controlled demeanor faded away and he suddenly became a raging animal. The anger rolled off of him in waves.

You moved quickly, remembering the demon had said something about the janitor inside him still being alive. You rushed forward and grabbed Sam’s arm as it swung forward, pulling it down. The knife brushed over your forearm, but that was the least of your concerns now. You pushed Sam back, away from the demon.

You took his face in your hands, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. “Hey, hey Sam. It’s okay. We’ll find him. But not like this.” You waited until his eyes no longer housed a fire and he nodded. You turned around and scratched the floor, then stood and backed off as the demon cautiously stepped out of the circle and left it’s host body. Leaving the two of you to explain to the man why he was two hundred miles from his home in an abandoned warehouse. If he hadn’t already figured it out himself.

You were hurt, confused and scared. After everything that had happened, you weren’t quite sure how to feel or what to think. Mostly, you found yourself filled with the same sort of guilt. And it was a feeling you were beginning to drown in, and not even Sam could make it go away.

You and Sam were planning to stop in a motel overnight before continuing on. He had barely said a word to you since you’d dropped the no longer possessed guy off at a bus station. You weren’t sure what what going through his head, and you were beginning to grow worried.

Your phone buzzed and you quickly picked it up. “Cas.” Sam glanced over at you.


“Hello, Y/N.” You put him on speaker phone so that Sam could hear.

“Is Sam there?”

“Yeah, hey Cas.” Sam called, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I may have found a lead.” He paused and you could almost make out the sound of coughing in the background. “But I’ll need to do some more digging before I drag you two down here for nothing.”


“We’ve got a whole lot of nothing no matter where you lead us.” You mentioned. “At least give us a clue so we can stay kind of close.”

“Newton, Arizona.”

“Sure. We’re about two days out.” Sam told Cas.

“Okay.”

“See you soon, Castiel.” You told him before the call disconnected. You and Sam exchanged glances. “That was brief.” Sam nodded in agreement as he continued to drive down the winding road.

A few hours later you stopped at a motel for the night. It was about 1 AM when you arrived and the guy at the front was slumped over his desk. You stepped forward, shooting Sam a mischievous grin before slamming your hand down on the bell. The guy jumped up. His hair was a bright red and he had dried blue ink on his face. He looked like some sort of twisted carnival clown.

“How can I help you-“ He froze when he saw the two of you. “Oh…actual customers. I’m Jerry, how can I help you?” Before you could answer, he kept talking as his eyes widened. “God, Jerry. You work in a motel. Of course they want a room! What were you thinking.” The guy was talking to himself as you and Sam watched on. You hoped he was only like this because of how tired he might be.

“Uh…Jerry. Hi.”

“Hello, welcome to Motel 48. Would you like a room with a view, or a room with a different view.” He asked, reaching down and holding two keys out to Sam. Sam, who didn’t care and looked like he really just wanted to get out of there, took the key from the guy’s left hand and stumbled out a thank you.

You stepped aside as they handled the other business quickly, and glanced at the brochures to the side. They had all the usuals — horseback riding and the like.

“Y/N.” You looked up at Sam, who was holding the keys as a triumph. “Let’s go.”


You followed him out the front desk, waving kindly to Jerry. You locked your arm in Sam’s and once you were out of Jerry’s sight, you started laughing. “Th…than…..thank…..y…yo…you.” You mimicked Sam from earlier. “I had no idea you were so afraid of jittery people.”

“He looked like a clown.”



“Okay…” You said, before looking up at Sam. “Wait…are you afraid of clowns?” He stopped walking, and tried to seem preoccupied with getting the room key to work. “Sam.” You placed your hand on his shoulder to make him look at you.

“Yeah. I uh…I am.” He told you embarrassedly.

“I’m afraid of ants.” You offered.

“But they’re so small.”



“And clowns are nice.”



“Those things can kill you. I don’t get ants.” Sam said. And you’d finally distracted him from clowns enough for him to be able to open the door.

“I was at a wedding and I accidentally stepped on a fire ant hill. The little buggers crawled all the way up my dress and stung me. My mom had to take off my flower girl dress and my slip till I was standing naked outside to get all the ants off of me. I was four.” You confessed to him, stepping into the room. He laughed at you and you whipped around, hitting his shoulder. “Hey! It really hurt!”



“I’m sorry, that is just the greatest story I’ve ever heard.” He said. You rolled your eyes and followed him into the rest of the room. “Crap.”

You didn’t even need to ask. Jerry had been so busy talking, he didn’t think to ask if you’d wanted separate beds or not. “He must’ve assumed we were…err….yeah.” You stumbled out.

“I’ll take the floor, it’s okay.” Sam offered, lowering his bag on the ground next to the TV.

“No, Sam. We can share. It’s not a big deal.” You countered. You’d feel bad if he was sleeping on the floor. But as soon as you offered, you got this feeling.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked cautiously. You nodded.

“I’m gonna take a shower. If I find you on the floor, I’ll kick you.” You threatened playfully. You put a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself before aiming to kiss his cheek. You accidentally got his chin, but you only released him and kept heading to the bathroom.

Once in, you could feel your cheeks burning. And you looked in the mirror, your mind quickly returning to the moment. The way his skin felt against your lips. And your stomach fluttered. Your eyes widened in shock, and you could feel the looming danger ahead of you. But you shook your head, trying to push everything away. Just take a shower, and go to sleep. Everything will be fine.

If only that were true.

When you emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel, you heard nothing but silence from the other room. And because you were more paranoid than usual these days, you opened the door to see if Sam was still in the room. But you opened the door to an empty room. Assuming he’d gone out for ice, you wrapped the towel firmly around yourself, tucking in the top, and left the bathroom.

It’d been weeks since you’d been to the bunker, so you only had a few changes of clothes that you washed whenever you could find a random laundry place. But you hadn’t found one in a few days, and you were out of pajamas. You couldn’t take another night of sleeping in jeans, even if it would be in a bed. You glanced over at Sam’s bad and saw one of his flannels poking out. If he minded, you’d find something else. But you were currently dripping wet and freezing. A good flannel was exactly what you needed right now. You picked it up and wrapped it around you, letting the towel drop. You quickly buttoned the flannel and put on a pair of boy shorts to seem more decent. For some reason you’d always thought boy shorts were better than normal underwear.

You were wondering where Sam had got to — how long did it take to get ice — when a key started to scratch the doorknob. Before you could freak out and find your gun, Sam appeared with an empty ice bucket. He froze when he saw you, taking in your appearance. You stared at him, before looking down quickly and realizing what he was looking at.

“Oh, yeah sorry. I’m out of clean clothing, and I figured you wouldn’t mind. I can keep digging though, if you want me to-“



“No, it’s fine.” He swallowed and you bit your lip as the atmosphere grew steadily warmer.

“Um…thanks. Did you get some ice?”


“I tried. It was out. I guess 2 am is too late for good ice.” He tried to joke.

2 AM. An old saying ran itself through your head.

“We’ll be gone before we need any ice, anyways.” You reasoned.  He nodded. You turned away from him and picked up your brush from your bag, beginning to run it through your hair. Sam retreated into the bathroom, and you took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself.

“Y/N.” Sam had come out of the bathroom and he made his way over to you. Y moved to stand up, throwing your brush back on top of your bag. When you turned around, you found yourself right in front of Sam, your bodies mere inches apart. You looked up at him, your mind on everything but why he might be this close to you.

Being this close, you could see his chest rise and fall from under his thin t-shirt. Your eyes flickered up to his, and he kept eye contact. “Just curious…” He started, and you thought you noticed his eyes move down quickly to glance at your lips. But you blinked, and in the next second he was still holding your eyes. “Why’d you pick this flannel?” His hand suddenly appeared at your side, sending a shiver down your back. His hand was gone in a flash, and you struggled to make sure you hadn’t imagined his touch.

You frowned, looking down and plucking the fabric between two fingers. It was a green one of his, but it was faded and old. There had been three other flannels poking out of his bag…so why this one? He had a point. You looked back up at him. His eyes starring into yours, a stunning hazel green flickering back and forth slowly between your eyes and your lips. You licked your lips as a flutter of excitement entered your stomach.

“I dunno. I guess I’ve always liked it on you.” You said. Sam didn’t say anything and suddenly you had no filter, and you hadn’t even thought through your next words before they found their way out of your mouth. “The color reminds me of your eyes.” What were you saying? Why would you say that? Your stomach curled in excitement again and Sam’s eyes stayed with yours, starring at you intensely. Your breathing became heavier and you grew curious of his reaction. You bit your lip and then he said something, and it made you snap into attention, your brain no longer fuddled by the moment.

“You look really hot in it.” You couldn’t stop yourself. The words rolled off your tongue naturally.

“Oh yeah?”


“Yeah.”

And suddenly, his hands were squeezing your hips, and pulling you flush against his body. Your hands were pressed against his chest, and you could feel each of his muscles flex as he moved.

Your eyes fluttered closed, his deep breath blowing gently on your face and tickling your nose. But he made no further move.

You let out a low growl and prepared yourself to initiate the growing lust. But then his lips were on yours, moving to a rhythm of desperation and lust. You gasped as your back hit the wall. Sam’s strong hands clutched onto your thighs, lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your hips into his. He let out a moan and you took advantage of this, leaning forward once again. Your mouths moved in open synchronization, tasting each other, breathing into each other’s mouths. You could feel the air growing hotter, lust clouding your thoughts.

His tongue traced your lips slowly, before nipping gently at your lip. His mouth moved, trailing kisses down your chin. You tilted your head to the side on impulse, allowing him easier access to your neck. He pressed his lips to the skin, before poking his tongue out and dragging it to your neck into the crevice of your collarbone. You shivered at his touch, breathing heavily. His lips pressed firmly to your neck again, as he began to suck on the flesh. When he’d pulled away, you pushed him away slightly, feeling your neck.

“You gave me a hickey!” You accused him. He only smirked at you and you gave him a playful glare. “You’ll pay for that Winchester.” You attacked his mouth again, this time with a driven purpose. Your fingers moved up and knotted themselves in his hair at the base of his neck. His flannel raised up with your arms and exposed your underwear. You grasped at him desperately as his hands trailed down your body.

Then, you flipped him over, prepared to give him a hickey in return for the one he’d given you. But the look on his face stopped you and you started laughing. His face was stuck in shock, but he quickly came out of it when he heard your chiming laughter.

“What?” Sam asked, thinking the worst. But you only continued to giggle, throwing your head back in utter amusement. Sam’s hands flew up to grip your hips, keeping you steady on top of him.

“Your face!” You finally spilled out. He didn’t give you time to regain your composure. With a low, sexy growl he had you flipped over again. His hands made quick work of the buttons on his flannel, as he pulled it open.

You looked up at him, and his eyes met yours. You were both breathing heavily, hot from the last few minutes. But you both knew, enough was enough. You could only go so far for the moment.

You sat up slowly, as Sam moved off of you. You buttoned the flannel back up, avoiding Sam’s gaze. When you did finally look back up at him, he was just looking at you. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, his chest moving up and down as his breathing returned to normal.

“Wow.” You managed to say, a smile slipping onto your face. Sam played off your reaction, letting an equally thrilled smile onto his own face.

“Yeah, wow.”

And with that, your lips renewed their taste of the other’s with a violent passion.

You roughly pushed your hair out of your face and let out an irritated sigh. It had been four weeks since you or Sam had found any trace of Dean. Cas was still drawing a blank as well, and his failing grace was becoming a bigger issue.

There was dirt under your nails, and all you could smell was the iron of blood mixed with Sam’s cologne. You were wearing another one of his shirts. It comforted you, to have his smell near you. It made you think of the nights where the two of you lay together in bed. No matter the motel, or the city you were in, Sam was the one constant.

Sam himself, was only a few feet away from you. His annoyance at the demon mirrored your own. His face was tired, and dark bags stuck out like gems under his eyes. His lips were cracked and his breathing was labored. His hair, which was normally kept luscious and clean, was in tangled knots. He looked a wreck. And you couldn’t imagine you looked any better.

“You Winchesters are becoming too predictable. You lot never can give up, especially on a lost cause.” The demon in front of you was possessing the body of a 40 something year old woman with ratty blond hair. Who knows what the demon had been doing in her body before you’d caught it.

“He doesn’t know anything. Let’s just gank him and get out of here.” You suggested, your tone a bit harsher than you meant. Sam reached for your wrist, holding you back gently. You looked up at him, a cautious warning in his eyes. You nodded and stepped back once again. But the demon caught the look, and used it to her advantage.

“Ooo, now this is an interesting development. I wonder what your brother would think about you and this pretty little thing together. Well, the old Dean.” The demon flashed her black eyes towards you and smirked. “I don’t think he cares much for you anymore sweetheart.” The demon chuckled, “oh, I wish I knew where he was, now.” The demon teased. “I’d pay to see that show.”


“You shut your mouth.” Sam defended you.


You took the knife from Sam and stepped forward, holding it threateningly under the demon’s neck. But she only looked at you and said mockingly, “So, girl talk. Which of the boys is better in the sheets?” You gave her a disgusted look. “I bet Dean’s pretty good. But Sammy boy. He must be headboard slamming. I bet he likes it rough, huh.” You punched the demon, relinquishing your knife threat and stepped back to stand by Sam, handing him the demon blade. The demon let out a peeling laugh at your and Sam’s contempt. But she didn’t stop. “How long did you wait before making a move on Sam? Even a slut like you must’ve waited a week or two.”

Without warning, Sam stabbed him. The demon flashed for a few seconds before the body slumped over, dead.

“I’m sorry.” Sam apologized to you. You shook yourself of the shock, and reached out for his shoulder.

“I know.” You leaned up and pressed your lips gently to his. He pressed back, desperation filling the kiss. You were all each other had. But the demon’s words loomed over your head. What would Dean think of you and Sam? Even if he’d changed this much, he’d still be hurt…right? You pushed down your guilt, letting your impulses control you.

It was 3 am and you sat on the window bench in the hotel room you’d rented for that night, looking out over the city. The sirens of ambulances and police cars intermingled with the sounds of the night, deliberately covering up the footsteps of drunk strangers floundering down the streets. Sam laid in the bed only a few feet away. You were wearing nothing but his flannel and a pair of black lace boy shorts you’d found in your bag. The room was warm, and you were rather content. Content in everything but your head. Your thoughts whirled, rushed about like the people down below you on the city sidewalks. You weren’t sure what to think. And a small feeling of guilt lay at the heart of each of these thoughts, though you skipped about it, avoiding it’s rooting.

“Can’t sleep?” Your head shot up and you turned to the source of the voice.

You looked back out of the window before answering. “No.” You heard Sam moving and turned your head slightly as he sat across from you on the bench cushion. You stretched your legs out and placed them on Sam’s lap. He crossed your ankles and rested his hands on the lower part of your calves, absentmindedly massaging them. “You?” 

He shook his head, ‘no’ and swallowed, before following your gaze and looking out the window. You lulled into a comfortable silence, both of your minds wandering wildly. You looked up at Sam, who caught your glance and smiled tiredly. You’d both been working so hard to find Dean for a month now. You wondered when you’d get a break — if you’d get a break.

You smiled back at Sam and crawled over to him, repositioning yourself so that you were now leaning on his chest, your bodies melding together as you watched the stars and the moon capture the night. The city dwellers finally calming down and disappearing into their homes, or someone else’s home, for the night. Being normal. Not out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.

“You’d think we’d be better at this.” You said quietly. Sam made a small noise of acknowledgement at what you’d said. But you stopped talking there, and he didn’t question you. You remained in silence for the better part of an hour, drifting in and out of consciousness before a thought passed your mind. And you couldn’t seem to get rid of it. “What now?” You asked Sam, sitting up and crossing your legs directly in front of him. 

He frowned, unsure of your question’s purpose.

 “What do you mean?”



“When we find Dean,” you spoke slowly, cautious in bringing up what you now deemed the inevitable question. “What happens…to us?”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly, before he started to think. You watched his movements carefully, fearing the conversation you were fast approaching.

“What do you want to happen?”

“I don’t know.” He nodded. “But…well I don’t know! I know that I want to be with you.” You stood up and began pacing. You paced whenever you were nervous — you always had. It was no use in stopping you. Sam stayed where he was and watched you. “I know that the way you make me feel, it’s something I’ve never felt before. You make my heart beat just a little bit faster and my palms get a little bit sweatier.” Sam listened intently, nodding when necessary with the ghost of a smile on his face. “I mean, am I crazy?”



“No, absolutely not. I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy, especially for someone like me.”

“So we’re happy. That should be enough right!” You claimed and he nodded his head along, wondering where you were going with this. “I never felt like this with Dean. There’s just something about him, about you. This feels right with you. There are just…so many complications for us. And we can’t do this to him. Even after what he’s done to us.” Sam ran his hand through his hair in distress, finally standing and meeting you in the middle of the room.

“So, what? I can’t just stop…” he grabbed your hands and held onto them tightly. “We can’t just stop this. You said it yourself, this…us. it’s right.”

“Then what do we do, Sam? Are we supposed to just forget about Dean. Not deal with this issue until Dean gets back?”



“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Even if all I get, are a few more months, weeks or even days with you. I want to make the most of them. I want to be with you.”

You nodded, the selfish monster within taking control as he pressed his lips to yours and pushed you back against the bed. You both knew you were setting yourselves up for disaster. But as he guided his hands down your body, you could honestly care less about the mess you were heading in.

Read Part 1.5 , Part 2

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Family Man Part One

The glint off his blade in the moonlight gave him a thrill that no liquor or roller coaster could compare to. With every careful step toward a nightmarish monster he felt more alive than he ever felt before, or would ever feel until the next monster he stalked. There was no orchestra in the background; no audience cheering him on, all Dean Winchester had in this moment was his silent mind and the grip on his machete.

One wrong step on a fallen branch and he would be dead, one breath too heavy and his cover was blown. Years, a lifetime of years, under his belt made him stealthy and dangerous. It’s why he was here in the depths of night with a werewolf on his radar.

A snarl broke the crisp starlit air.

One precise swing of the machete and silence found its home again in the woods around him.

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