Disclaimer: Supernatural characters do not belong to me.
A/N: This story was inspired by a song called Shiver by Lucy Rose. Listen while reading for an enhanced experience. Flashbacks and memories are in italics.
Part I
I always wished that we could make it work. I still do.
Time has passed and I have moved forward, found a man, let him kiss me, let myself love him.
But all of the distraction and the denial in the world could not erase that empty pit in my stomach that I felt when I found the engagement ring. At the sight of the little black box, my breath hitched in my throat. Hesitantly, I opened it to find a ring, beautiful and sparkling, everything I had ever hoped for. I should have been thrilled. I thought I would have been. But the sparkle did not reflect in my eyes as they welled up with tears of uncertainty and fear.
And so, I quickly put the ring box back where I had accidentally found it and willed myself to forget.
Last week I moved in slow motion through a sea of people donned in scarves and gloves. The Christmas sales were endless and I figured that being productive would help to ease my mind a bit. I watched as children ran along with their jolly grins and their red noses. I marveled at the little twinkly lights that adorned every window frame and light post, taking in the magic of the season. I inhaled the crisp winter air deeply in hopes that it would cleanse me somehow. And as I passed one of the shops, I stopped in my tracks at a sight through the window. It was a tall man in a black coat with shaggy brown hair. My heart skipped a beat as I waited for him to turn around and inevitably see that he wasn't you. He noticed my gaze in his direction and he smiled politely just before a small girl, who I presumed to be his daughter, ran up to him with something in her hand. He placed a gentle hand on her back and took one last glance at me before walking out of sight. Completely embarrassed, I shook the image out of my head, fixed my eyes on the sidewalk beneath me, and walked.
I saw you at least three times more since then: driving behind me through the rearview; on line to get coffee; turning a corner across the way. I see you everywhere I go, and then your face disappears and suddenly you're somebody else. My imagination can be a real bitch sometimes. And each time it happens I feel like the universe is alerting me to how much of a shitty person I am.
My eyelids are blocking out the soft rays of moonlight that shine through the window. I can feel the coolness of the pillow against my cheek and the back of my hand as I try to imagine myself sinking into the mattress. I am in and out of sleep, never letting my brain shut down completely,
until my gentle slumber is broken by the sensation of a hand slipping tenderly into mine.
It is large and a bit coarse against my untouched skin, but it sends a tingle down my spine that I would recognize anywhere, awake or asleep. In one fell swoop, my eyes flutter open and a smile wipes the weariness from my face.
"Sam", I whisper, gripping his hand tightly now. I can barely see his eyes as we are nose to nose, but I can feel the contentment in his breath, in his presence.
"I'm here", he says warmly, and in minutes, I am drifting to sleep peacefully in the nook of his chest, breathing in tune with his heartbeat.
I awaken in the morning with a stretch just as my boyfriend is shutting the door softly behind him and heading to work. After washing my face and making a cup of tea, I amble back into the bedroom and toward my closet, whose doors I then open and contents I stare at blankly. As I run my fingers slowly over each article of clothing from left to right, my hand stops on the soft and worn material of an old flannel shirt. I extend one sleeve toward me and feel the soft flannel with both thumbs. This shirt had only left its hanger once in the past two years or so, and when I wore it, it was when I was alone on a cold night. It brought me comfort. I bring the material to my nose and can still detect a whiff of your scent. It brings me back in time immediately.
Sam lifts his head to look at me when he hears me pad into the room on bare feet. He smirks.
"Well?" I ask, looking down at my body, tugging slightly at the hem of the shirt. The flannel is oversized on my frame, hem sitting mid-thigh and collar loose enough to expose my clavicle on one side. I look up and smile back at him playfully.
"I don't know, I think I need a closer look", he teases, motioning for me to come toward him. He sits back against the couch, folds his arms and spreads his knees wider, ready to examine me.
I make my best sexy pose and saunter slowly across the wooden floor, stopping at his feet where I lift my naked leg to straddle him.
"You know, I've got to say," he starts while I wrap my arms around his neck, "you look better in that flannel than I do".
I look pleased with myself as I reach over to get my glass of wine. "Well, I'm glad you feel that way because you're not getting it back". I make eye contact with Sam as I lift the wine glass to my lips and drink seductively. I can practically see the fire burning behind his eyes when he flares his nostrils and says gruffly into my ear,
"The only place that shirt will be tonight is in a pile on the floor". And with that, wine is spilling while he's lifting me off of the couch in a giggling mess.
That was the first night I had seen your anti-possession tattoo. We had laid in bed together under the soft glow of your bedside lamp and you explained its significance to me. After that you told me the story behind each of your bruises and scars while I traced them lightly with my finger. It was then that I learned about the life of a hunter. It was then that I began to truly feel close to you. I should have known that it was the beginning of an end.
'This shirt needs to go', I say to myself, ripping it off of the hanger and tossing it into the trash. I take a deep breath and begin to get dressed for the workday. I make a promise to myself that the pining ends here.
'This is just silly', I think, 'I am happy with my life'.
As I shut the door and turn my key in the lock, I look down at my trembling hand.
'I am'.
Sam's hands hover over my back, fingertips barely grazing my skin. As they travel downward toward my waist, his touch is painfully pleasurable. A shiver envelops my whole body, a sensation I am familiar with. I feel it when his green eyes search me for answers. I feel it when his lips crash into mine. Letting time cease around us, I press my hands to his chest and I look at him carefully. I almost don't hear him when he says it, but the next words he speaks will echo in my head relentlessly,
"I love you".
Saturday night has arrived and I have plans with the girls. I feel good about myself when I see my reflection, eyes bright and hair shining. I finish my primping and slide into my black pumps, grabbing my purse and heading out the door.
Something about that reflection changes as the evening unfolds, though, whether it be the lighting in the restaurant bathroom or the effects of red wine.
This time it's me searching for answers but, the longer I peer, the more it appears that my reflection is just as clueless as I.
My friends and I exchange our Secret Santa gifts and I plaster on a tipsy grin, pretending I have nothing to tell. We talk and we laugh, as always, and when they ask about me, I say nothing of the engagement ring, or of the string of old emotions it has stirred up within me.
I just can't bear to face it.
I get home and decide that the night is still young, so I uncork a fresh bottle of wine and pour myself a glass, leaning an arm on the kitchen counter. I pick up my phone and open the last text that was exchanged between my boyfriend and I.
It reads: 'Be home late. Hope you're having a great time'.
I look at the little text bubbles and consider calling him to see how his night is going with the guys. I ultimately decide against it and toss the phone to the side, hearing it bounce off the couch cushions. Sitting in my dress and crossing my legs, I flip on the television and take a gulp of my wine, eyes rolling back in my head at the smoothness of it sliding down my throat.
Two romantic comedies and one mind-numbing reality show later, I pour the remainder of the wine in my glass down to the very last drop, shaking the bottle with disappointment. I turn my head to look out the living room window. Windows? Since when are there two windows there? I shake my head and blink to steady myself, as I had been seeing double. When I look closer I see that there are snowflakes falling peacefully outside. I stumble toward the window and plop myself in the chair that normally serves as my reading nook, sitting sideways and propping both feet up on the opposite arm of the chair.
Watching the snow fall, I suddenly begin to feel everything inside me settle. My heartbeat slows, my breathing is even, and my mind is quiet. I watch as the fresh, sparkling snow coats the ground gently and makes every rooftop and tree branch look enchanting.
For a few moments, it feels as though I have relinquished control of everything.
And then, I begin to cry.
A single tear, at first, rolling down my cheek.
Soon after, all of my suppressed emotions are exiting my body at once.
I suddenly become painfully aware of how alone I am.
I pick up my phone, which is still open to my text conversation with my boyfriend. I play around with a few options of things to say; messages to send; feelings to share.
And then, like the easiest decision I've ever made, I scroll to your name in my contacts.
I stare meaningfully at those three small letters that, when put together, mean so much to me:
'Sam'.
And before I know what I am even doing, I hear ringing on the other end of the line.
And,
like you've always done before,
you answer.
"Hey", you say simply, sounding surprised.
"Hey," I say back, feeling breathless.
A few brief moments go by with nothing said between the two of us.
"It's snowing," I blurt matter-of-factly, quickly wondering why these are the first words to come out of my mouth.
I hear a small chuckle on the other end. "Yeah?" you ask, clearly not sure what else to say.
I can feel my face twisting up in emotion again, eyes welling up with tears. I try to fight it with a fake laugh.
"Yeah, um, is it snowing where you are?"
You take a second before you respond, and every second that's silent is one that I start to fill up with regret.
"Well, I'm actually not far from you, so yeah, it's snowing here a little, too".
Another ten seconds pass that feel like an eternity.
"Hey… is everything okay?" You ask me with genuine concern in your voice.
The tears flow down my face again at the sound of your voice. I didn't know how much I had missed it or how badly I had needed it.
"Sam…" I say, just to say, "…I don't know".
"Okay, talk to me", you say. I can imagine your eyebrows furrowing in the way they do when you get serious.
"You said that you're not far. Can we do it in person?" I ask.
"Yeah," you say softly, "of course. I can be there by tomorrow".
We make a plan to meet the following day and get coffee. Before we hang up, I feel like I'm holding onto your voice for dear life. I listen as carefully as I can when you say, "Goodnight".