A/N: This one is for all you Sam girls out there! He's apparently under-served in the love department, even in fan fiction, so I'm gonna see what I can do to rectify that! Also thanks to DifficultNotImpossiblefor suggesting I write a series for Sam!
This will be a series of one-shots, all different moments in Sam and Callie's relationship. It may or may not be linear, but each will be a moment in time for them. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
I know I say this every time, but it bears repeating...you would really truly not be reading this without the assistance of my friend and beta, MaliBear'sBuddy. She prodded and pushed and shoved and cajoled until I got this Sam and Callie thing going. She read this countless times, made countless edits and spent countless hours talking it through with me. It's really hard to create your own character from scratch, and I would have given up long ago without her support and assistance. I'd consider it a personal favor if you'd go read her stuff and show her some love!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything Supernatural.
First Meeting
Sam approaches the house from the left, trying to stick to the shadows created by the late afternoon sun. He can't hear him, but he knows Dean is coming up on the right side.
The pair of ghouls they were hunting had been wreaking havoc on this town for nearly a week now. He and Dean had only just arrived this afternoon after getting a call from Bobby two days ago. They'd had to leave Sophia behind on their previous job to come here and deal with this mess before anyone else died.
The hair on the back of his neck stands up just before he hears the distinctive sound of a round being chambered in a shotgun. He stops where he is and closes his eyes briefly. What the hell?
"You know what that sound means, so put your hands where I can see them and turn around slowly. And don't do anything stupid. I'd hate to have to kill you."
Sam raises his hands and turns slowly. He can't help the raise of his brows when he sees his captor.
She's standing about ten feet from him, shotgun pointed squarely at him. She's of medium height, but slim and muscular. Her rich dark brown hair tumbles to her shoulders in a riot of curls. She's wearing the standard hunter's uniform of jeans, t-shirt, and a leather jacket that looks like it's seen its share of fights. It doesn't escape his notice, however, that she wears it better than anyone else he's ever seen.
Her bright blue eyes look him up and down for a moment before she snorts and lowers the shotgun.
"Sam Winchester," she says, her tone faintly derisive. "I should've guessed."
He's still looking for words when she brushes past him, moving toward the ghoul's cabin.
"I suppose your brother's here too, right?" she says, glancing over her shoulder and seeing his nod. She rolls her eyes. "Of course he is. You two are attached at the hip."
Finally getting his head back together, he moves to follow her. "You've got me at a disadvantage," he says as they walk quietly through the trees. "You seem to know who I am. Who the hell are you?"
"Everyone knows who you are, Sam," she replies, keeping her voice low, "I'm a hunter. And you've crashed my hunt."
Further conversation is interrupted by a crash and a howl.
"Dean!" Sam yells and takes off for the cabin at a run. He can hear the woman behind him, hissing at him to wait, but he's not going to leave his brother to face the ghouls alone.
They reach the shack in time to find Dean fighting one of the ghouls in front of it. Before Sam can move to help, his companion steps forward and decapitates it with the mighty swing of a blade he hadn't even seen her pull out.
Dean spares Sam a brief glance, gets a shrug in return and both Winchesters turn to follow the woman into the house. She's already engaging the second ghoul by the time they enter the room. Sam manages to distract the thing long enough for her to take it's head in another clean swipe.
Standing over the body, breathing hard from his run through the forest, Sam looks over at the woman. She sheathes her blade after wiping it clean and gives him a hard smile.
She steps forward and holds out a hand. "Callie Daniels," she says. "And you're welcome."
~~~SPN~~~
Sam drops two beers and a glass of whiskey on the table before sliding onto the stool.
He watches Callie pick uncomfortably at the napkin under her beer as her eyes flit around the bar. He can tell this isn't her standard operating procedure. She doesn't do drinks with anyone, certainly not strangers. He wonders what convinced her to come with them tonight. What was different this time.
It had seemed only fair to buy her a drink considering she'd done all the work. Sam could tell she was reluctant, but she'd accepted after some cajoling.
Sam and Dean click their respective drinks together and drink deeply.
"One more for the good guys," Dean says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Sam nods but finds his gaze moving to Callie. Something about her draws him in. It's like he knows her. Sees something of himself in her. Sees what he might have become without his brother and, more recently, Sophia.
His thoughts are interrupted when Dean's cell phone chirps the arrival of a text.
Dean glances down at the phone and a relaxed smile crosses his face as he stands and tosses back the remainder of his whiskey.
"Sophia's finally here," he says, shrugging on his jacket, "so I'm gone."
"Try to keep it down tonight, would you?" Sam says with a smirk.
Dean grins and drops a few bills on the table to cover his drinks. "Don't count on it bro, it's been two days." He glances at Callie then back at Sam. "You two should probably have at least one more drink before you come back to the motel though."
Sam rolls his eyes and Dean starts for the door, not bothering to hide his snicker.
"Oh, and hey," Sam calls after him, "tell her she still owes me twenty bucks from when I kicked her ass at Words with Friends!"
Dean raises his hand in a wave, but doesn't turn, pushing out the door and into the night.
Sam turns back to Callie, a small smile on his face.
"So, Sophia's his girlfriend?" Callie asks, curious. She hasn't met any hunter couples in her travels.
Sam nods. "Yeah, they've been together awhile now. We had to leave another job to come here. She was mopping up the mess, so she just got to town." His eyes drift over her. "You should meet her, I think you'd like her."
Callie shrugs carelessly. "I'm not looking to be buddies with anyone, Sam. I was here to kill the ghouls and move on. There's more evil out there that needs to die."
Sam's expression flickers. "True enough. But you don't have to kill all of it by yourself."
Callie's eyes flare and she meets his gaze head-on. "Spare me the Dr. Phil crap. I work alone. Period." She pauses, eyes falling back down to the beer in front of her. "It's safer that way."
"Safer for who?"
"Everyone," she replies softly. She stands and snatches her jacket from the back of the chair. "Thanks for the beer, but it doesn't buy you admission into my head." She considers him briefly, her eyes wandering his body. "Or anywhere else, for that matter."
She watches as shakes his head, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. He turns his warm blue-green eyes on her and something she'd thought long dead flickers inside her.
"I'll walk you back to the motel," he says.
"I don't need an escort," she scoffs.
"No, I don't imagine you do, given what I saw you do with that blade," he says with a grin. "But I'm headed back there too, so we may as well walk together."
She regards him suspiciously, but doesn't protest when he follows out her out into the cool night.
The walk back to the motel is made mostly in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts.
When they reach the parking lot, Sam stops her. "Two things before you go."
She raises an eyebrow and waits.
"One, we'll probably go for breakfast around 8 tomorrow morning if you're interested in joining us. You could meet Sophia."
She's shaking her head before he even finishes the sentence. He knows what she's thinking. He can see it in the bottomless depths of her blue eyes. She's already gotten too involved by just having beers.
"Two," he continues, ignoring her response, "whatever it was, it wasn't your fault. And whoever it was probably doesn't blame you the way you blame yourself."
She starts, wide eyes flying to his. "How did you... who told you..." she stutters, unable to complete the sentence.
"You did," he replies with a shrug. He studies her for a moment. "Takes one to know one," he says with a rueful smile.
She just stares at him, watching as his long legs carrying him across the lot to his room before she can gather her scrambled thoughts.
Turning back, a hint of a smile spreads across his face as he calls out to her, "Good night, Callie."
