Disclaimer; I own nothing except Naomi, Boys belong to dear old Kripke!
Warning: Serious fluffyness!
A/N: not sure how i feel about this one, you guys could let me know tho! Part of my "Naomi Nichols" Series. She's an OC, who I paired with Dean. Set in her POV. It's set after "It's All About Soul" but before "The Hardest Part Of Letting Go Is Holding On"
Enjoy!
K xox
Sammy's Shadow.
Growing up, I was thought to believe that you're shadow was you're guardian angel, who you could only seen when the light hit. My father used to tell me this after I had said my prayers and he was tucking me in at night. My mother would laugh gently from the door way.
One night when I was around ten, I remember getting the idea into my head that guardian angels could actually be people. It happened when my dad had, as usual, came into my room to say good night and mutter about angels. My mother had resumed her usual place by the door after closing my window, that's when I noticed it. As her shadow mixed perfectly on the floor with my dad's I wondered then if maybe she was my fathers guardian angel.
Two nights later I asked. My father laughed and then stopped when he realised I was serious. He smiled at me then said: "You know sweet heart, I never thought of it like that, but you're mother really does look after me, and keep me out of trouble." so that was it. I was hooked on the idea that they really could be people.
I smiled at the man who was currently wrestling with his little brother for the remote. Usually at this point, I would stroll over and pick the discarded remote from the floor and flip on the TV and stop at something I wanted to watch, all the while ignoring their glares and whimpered protests. Sammy would get the remote next as Dean would stalk over and pin me to the bed as he tired to get his hands on it.
Funnily enough, Dean never seemed to get the remote. But even funnier, he never seemed to mind. He was content just to sit there and watch, with the occasional timed remark or on the odd occasion a running commentary.
Before Sam had left for Stanford, I had genuinely thought of them as a normal family. Sam was the brain-box little brother and Dean was the cool older brother. They had a dynamic. Something I envied, being an only child, I had always wanted a little sister or a big sister or even a brother. But watching how Dean was with Sam, I knew there wasn't anyone out there like them and even I wouldn't have had that. Sure Dean and Sam fought but it was made clear soon on that no matter who you were, Dean was the only one allowed to hit Sam.
The night he left was pretty scary. I had known that Sam's graduation was coming up, so I had tracked them down and showed up. John seemed pleased to see me and I knew the boys were. Dean being Dean gave me his smirk but even at eighteen Sam scooped me up into a major hug. After the graduation, we had went for a meal just the four of us. It felt strange because I never really had this, my mother wan an only child and my father didn't get on with his family, so little outings as a family were different in my experience. Sam was smirking and I pushed the little box towards him, he eyed it suspiciously before kinking an eyebrow at me. I just jabbed the box a little harder with the fork and his grin widened. Dean had gotten him a dagger with his initials on it and his dad had gave him a gun. I had wanted to break the trend so, I had got him a silver money clip with his initials on it. Nothing special but different all the same. I got a Sammy hug over the table. Little did I know the laughing and joking would last only a few more hours.
"I got in to Stanford." Sam announced. I couldn't help the smile that passed over my face. I was on the last year of uni and had thoroughly enjoyed my time there. Dean seemed caught between happiness and shock. John was just plain livid. I couldn't give you the word for word as John turned to me smile in place and asked if he could have a minute with his boys. So off I went to get some soda and a room for myself. It must have looked silly me waltzing into a motel reception with broken front windows and asking for a room in my 1950's style Prada dress.
The door to their motel crashed closed with a loud bang and I jumped, squeaking as I done so. Sam was standing there with his bags and yelling something about how mucked up his family was. "Sam?" I asked and he turned to me. Those beautiful blue eyes filled with unshed tears.
"Can you drive me to the bus station?" his voice cracked. I blinked once, maybe twice, "Forget it." he whispered and I grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. His arms closed around me after a few moments and I did as I was asked and drove him to the bus station, waiting until he boarded.
The motel room was eerily silent when I knocked on the door. Dean answered his jaw set and eyes hard. I offered a soft smile and entered when he stepped back. John was on the bed, his face contorted with anger I had guessed and he stood and straightened. "You're idea?" an accusation that I wasn't going to sit down to.
"No." I said softly, "Sam has his own mind." I stood against him, his gaze leaving mine as he turned around. I wasn't interested in a fight so I left.
It was two in the morning when my door creaked open. I knew who it was so I lay there, still and waiting. Sure enough a warm body pressed against mine and two strong arms wrapped themselves around me. I knew what he needed. I knew how he felt; so I turned into him and held him and let him cry. I didn't know then really what it was over but I knew I was going to learn in time.
Before Sam came back onto the scene, I would wait for Dean and his father to come back from a hunt and clean them up. His father would get another room and Dean would drop the bravado and snuggle up to me in the eerie light of the room, the source of which was the TV. He would wait until I had fallen asleep and dial his number. The deep rumble of a "Hello?" at the other side of the phone and the cell would click shut. He would climb in beside me again and hold me close to him so hard I swore I'd have bruises in the morning.
Two weeks after Sam came back into my life I noticed it. I don't think Dean knows I have but I noticed anyway. Sam was having trouble sleeping and was laying on his back on my sofa, the TV was on but he was staring at the ceiling. My bed room is right across from the living room and if I lay on my side and left the door open I could actually watch whatever was on the TV. But tonight, Dean and I had went to bed early and the door had been closed. I woke on hearing the annoying sound of over the top screaming from girls as some actor made his way onto the stage. I had this feeling not to open my eyes, I knew he was awake, his heart beat was faster than the soft beating when he was asleep and he was tense. I moved slightly to gauge the position of his head and, once satisfied I opened my eyes.
Dean was watching into the room and I knew for a fact he wasn't watching The Jimmy Kimmel Show. I couldn't help the smile that passed across my face as I realised that he simply couldn't sleep, he was too busy watching Sam. Too busy watching over Sam.
I'll never forget the pained scream that Sam let out or how fast, but how gently, Dean sprang from the bed and out the door to Sam's aid. As sleepily as I could manage I walked from the bed room and looked into the living room, leaning against the door frame. I stayed silent and simply watched Dean rock Sam back and forth in his arms, stroking his hair letting him cry but attempting to shush his tears at the same time. I knew he sensed my presence as soon as he whispered that everything was ok.
I thought about it every night since then. How Dean could possibly be Sam's guardian angel. Dean unwittingly confirmed my suspicions with random little pieces of information, how it was him that had carried Sam out of the house when he was four, how it was him that practically raised Sam, the fact it was Dean who had been there to patch Sam up after every hunt, and who would rock him to sleep. Dean was always there. He literally was Sam's shadow.
The man on the TV started spouting some nonsense about bears and their natural habitat being more violent but I wasn't listening. I was too busy snuggled up to Dean under the blanket he had draped across me. I smiled at how innocent this set up seemed to be, but I knew different. Dean had a small knife under his pillow, a gun in the bed side cabinet and a machete under the mattress. Sam had the same. My eyes wandered from the salted line at the door across the floor and rested on one of the most comforting sights that I had ever come across. It was simple, maybe even cliché, but as I saw Sam and Dean's mix on the floor I knew that in fact Dean was Sam's guardian Angel but more than that, as his arms tightened around me, I knew he was mine too.