Summary: Being Sam Winchester’s Omega was wonderful… when he was actually there. Yes, he was kind and loving, but he’d spend weeks away from you, only stopping by when he needed to. Two years of living on the outskirts of Sam’s life is starting to take its toll.
Words: 4704 (whoa)
Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics. Pining (is that a warning?). Talk of sex.
AN: The long awaited sequel for Reluctant Rejection!!! There will be a third part. I promise you, it will be a lot shorter than this… this one got out of hand XD
Anywhooo, hope you enjoy it! I have some worries that I may have waffled, but @skybinx-blog assures me otherwise…
Constructive Criticism Welcome!!!
The damn thermos was the only thing that was still the same.
After you’d made Sam leave, you’d spent the best part of two weeks just living on the couch. You’d had no energy to drag yourself far, and the sofa put you equidistant to the fridge and the bathroom, meaning you didn’t really have much need to move. With shaking limbs, you’d decided that enough was enough. You had to keep living your life, and that meant moving on from your Alpha, even if he had been your true mate.
So, you fell into a routine to try and keep you grounded. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Unfortunately, you had no idea if it would have worked, because it didn’t take long for your heat to hit once again. This time there was no Sam walking through your door to comfort you, no Sam to wrap his arms around you and hold you close, no Sam to show you how much he loved you.
You’d never felt agony like it. Sure, heats had always sucked ass, but what you experienced was far beyond any pain they’d caused you before you’d met Sam. There was no need to seek out an explanation for it, though. You knew it was because your whole being was craving your Alpha.
What you also realised during this time was that Sam’s scent was saturated into every part of your house. Sure, it might have been vaguely faded, but it was there, and in your sensitive state you’d torn up a large part of your home in an effort to seek it out, desperate for something more substantial than a weak scent clinging to your mattress. Once you were over the worst of it, you started on your next endeavour to move on.
You gutted your house.
There was no way you wanted to suffer like you had during your last heat, and so you did what you had to. All things that you knew you would never rid of Sam’s warm smell was to be tossed out. Your mattress and all your bedding went first, quickly followed by your sofa and curtains, and then the carpets. Even the doormat that Sam himself had bought you got tossed out, only pausing briefly to look at the strange pentagram that you spotted on its underside, painted on in a colour that was just off from the mat’s colour. Unnerved slightly with this discovery, you pressed on.
Everything that you kept went through a serious cleaning. No surface went un-scrubbed, and you painstakingly re-varnished all the wooden surfaces.
Not to mention you decided that, with new furniture and a new life, you would rearrange everything and have a new layout. This brought to surface the second thing that unnerved you… the little fabric pouches that started popping up in random places.
Regardless, you persevered, and soon it looked as though you’d moved into a new house.
Except for the goddamn thermos.