Yay! My first Supernatural fic. Please be nice. ^_^

Inspired by and loosely based on the song Walk Away by The Script.

Takes place throughout Seasons one and two.

"You could still walk away." I whispered, leaning down to brush my lips against her ear. To the spectators, or what few people we could invite, it would look like I was brushing my lips across her cheek. I had to give her one last chance, before I tightened my grip and never let go.

How many times had I said that?

I couldn't remember...but the answer had always been the same.

I pulled back and looked into the deep cerulean eyes that I had fallen for, already anticipating her answer...

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The first day I saw her, I wasn't entirely sure what to think.

It was when I was really little. I must have only been about five at the time. I was playing catch with Dean, outside of some dingy motel in God-knows-where Texas. Dean had managed to find a tennis ball in the bushes outside of the check-in, so now we were throwing it back and forth, trying to entertain ourselves while we waited for dad to come back.

I threw the ball to Dean, missing, because of my much weaker arms back then, when the door a few down from ours opened.

A small girl, no more than six or seven, ran out crying. The door slammed shut behind her, a distinctly male form pulled it closed in a fit of rage. I stared as she ran out towards the busy street. She paused right before the street. Distracted, I got beamed in the head with the tennis ball.

"What are you staring at?" Dean asked, and turned to look at the girl.

"I want to know why she's crying." I stated simply.

"Don't worry about it. Her dad probably yelled at her. It's not our problem." I listed to my brother that time, and went back to tossing the ball. But my eyes kept glancing back to her.

Finally, after about fifteen more minutes of catch, Dean tossed me the ball and went back inside. I didn't follow.

Something in me told me to go talk to the crying girl on the sidewalk. Just to make sure she was alright. I made my way slowly over to her and knelt down beside her. She didn't notice.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly. She startled and looked up at me with big deep blue eyes, puffy from crying. She shook her head no.

That's when I noticed the bruise on her cheek. It had to have been caused recently, if not just a few minutes ago. She saw me looking and moved her hair in front of the damaged flesh.

I carefully reached out my hand to brush her hair away but she flinched back and stood up, looking ready to run.

"Can I help?" I asked, sincerely.

She shook her head no, and ran.

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I never thought I'd see the blue-eyed girl again. I worried that she had been hurt, or worse, killed. I knew from that one bruise and the way that door slammed after her that her father beat her.

It killed me that I knew I might never be able to help her…to save her.

So, to say it surprised me the next time I saw her would be an understatement.

It was my first day at Stanford. I was walking across campus trying to find my class when I felt someone watching me from across the courtyard where I was standing. Years of hunting had ingrained that feeling in me.

I turned my head and scanned the crowd for whomever, or whatever was watching me...and I spotted her, staring at me intensely.

I'm still not sure how she knew it was me; I knew I had changed a lot.

But I would never forget those blue eyes.

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It wasn't until later in the semester that she first spoke to me.

I had fallen asleep in the library, attempting to research a paper I had due in a few days. Normally, I wasn't such a procrastinator, but recently, the blue-eyed girl occupied my thoughts.

I hadn't seen her since that first day.

Once again she surprised me. It was still early when I felt someone shaking my shoulder. It didn't take much. I jolted awake and was once again met with her intense gaze.

I sat there stupid with shock and sleep for a moment before gathering my wits and thrust out a hand. "I'm Sam." was all I could manage.

It was enough. Her stoic face cracked into a small smile, and she gripped my hand and shook.

"I'm Gail."

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"I was six that day you saw me run out of the motel in Texas." she started.

Gail and I had become friends after that morning in the library, months ago. Apparently, she had wanted to know me as much as I had wanted to meet her. So, when I invited her to join me for lunch that day, she had gladly accepted.

Today we had gone out for coffee and I had finally worked up the courage to ask what had happened that day, years ago. It still bothered me.

She hesitated before beginning.

"When I was younger, about two I think, my mother died in a car crash. My dad was driving, so he blamed himself." she paused. "As I got older he began to drink, more and more, until he was almost never sober." she stopped again to take a sip of her coffee.

She jumped right back into the story, speaking in a detached voice. "He started beating me when I was four. It started with a couple slaps about once a week, but it escalated, quickly." She chuckled darkly. "Soon I found myself being hit and kicked almost every night."

"But the worst nights were the ones when he'd bring out the butcher knife and slice at my arms and legs." she continued. "He would never aim to kill me, just cut me up enough that he could bandage the wounds, but so they would still cause me agony for weeks on end."

I drew in a sharp gasp. Gail chuckled humorlessly.

"I knew that day would be one of those days. He started by kicking me in the stomach, plus a good punch to the face, for good measure." She paused again. I could tell she was trying not to cry. "He always kept a pocket knife on him whenever we would go on trips, you know, just in case."

I moved around the table to put my arm around her, hoping to give whatever comfort I could. She continued.

"I was still on the floor fro the punch when I saw him pull out the knife. I stood and ran towards the door, hoping to get away. He almost caught me, but I managed to escape, knowing it would probably be worse when I want back in. So…I ran for the street." She stopped again, her breathing becoming irregular. But she still wasn't crying.

"I was going to jump into traffic. I'd be dead, and that horrible life of mine would be over before I could even blink. But, I just couldn't bring myself to do it while I had an audience, so I sat on the sidewalk, hoping the two boys playing catch outside would leave before I lost my nerve."

I sat wide-eyed at hat she had just told me. But she wasn't done yet.

"Finally, one went back inside. I thought my chance was there. But the other one, you Sam, came over and sat down beside me." A pause. "'Are you okay?'" she giggled, a sound that grew into a full out laugh. She turned her eyes up to me and I could see the blend of happiness and pain dancing in her eyes.

"No one had ever asked me that before. No one had ever bothered with compassion when it came to me. Everyone just turned their head, pretended it wasn't happening. But not you. For those few moments, I could tell you actually cared. I was scared, so ran away from you."

I smiled down at her, a soft, caring smile.

"I went back inside and was met with my father's furious face. He yelled at me. Asked me who that boy was and what did I think I was doing with him. He brought out the knife so fast, I didn't see it coming until it hit me. He gave me this…" she pulled down the collar of her shirt to reveal a long scar, about five inches long, that ran just below her collar bone on the right.

"I ran away, as soon as I got away." She finished. She looked at me. "That's it."

"Damn." I whispered. "I've been causing you trouble since the minute you met me. I'm sorry." I said.

Her eyes widened in slight shock. "Don't be." She insisted vehemently. "Don't you get it?" she asked. "You haven't been causing trouble for me…you saved me from it. You saved me from a lot of things."

Now it was my turn to be surprised.

She answered my unspoken question. "You saved me from jumping into traffic. You save me from my father. And you saved me from myself. Just by asking one question."

As I looked into her eyes I noticed something new, resolve. She wasn't that scared little girl I saw that day. But that resolve was still marred by fear, I knew.

I swore to myself, nothing was going to touch her again.

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There was a something on the campus. Some creature that was tracking down and killing girls.

At this point I was dating Jessica, but Gail was still my best friend, and normal life be damned if I was going to let anything happen to either of them.

I began hunting it.

There had been an accident a few years ago. A girl, a junior, had been walking home late one night from a party with her friends. They were all drunk. The girl ran ahead and stood next to an alley to make fun of the homeless man around the corner. She laughed and jeered while she waited for her friends to catch up, when he pulled her into the alley and slit her throat. Now she was back to get revenge on the college girls who didn't try to help her.

At least, that was the story I got.

What I wasn't anticipating, was for the spirit to target Gail.

Late one night, after we had gone to the library to study for a paper we were writing, she was walking back to her dorm, alone. I had left early in the hopes of finding and disposing of the ghost that night. I figured she would spend the night there, considering the hour. I was wrong.

I was halfway across campus when I heard her scream in terror. I recognized her voice immediately. I ran, loading my gun as I went. I swore nothing would harm her, and nothing would.

When I arrived she was on her back, the spirit hovering above her. She was barely keeping the tip of the knife from plunging into her heart. I yelled and shot the spirit, keeping it away, if only for the moment.

Gail sat up, breathing hard. She looked at me.

I saw the questions in her eyes.

I knew I couldn't hide my past anymore. I couldn't lie to her.

I told her everything.

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Jessica was gone and Dean was back.

I knew the minute we drove off that night after the fire that I would probably never see Gail again. I also knew that if I didn't say goodbye, or at least say something, she would come find me. And I couldn't let her risk her life like that.

I didn't have to walk far to find her. She had heard the explosion.

"Sam, I-" she started.

I cut her off. "I'm leaving." That was all it took for her worried face to crumple into a mask of sadness.

"Where are you going?" she asked quietly.

"I'm leaving," I said again. "I'm going on a road trip with my brother. I won't be coming back." I finished sadly.

I saw the tear slip down her cheek before her face hardened into strong resolve. "I'm coming with you." Gail stated. It wasn't a question.

I looked up sharply. "No." I gripped her shoulders and looked at her. "Gail please, you can't come with us. I wouldn't be able to handle it if you got hurt too. Please just walk away." I pleaded.

She smiled softly. "I will never walk away from you, Sam."

"Trust me," I tried "If you don't walk away now, you'll never be able to have an easy, normal life again."

"I don't care." She said, indignantly. "Since when has my life ever been easy or normal? I'm in too deep now, Sam. I'm with you."

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After a lot of begging and pleading, I finally managed to get both Gail and Bobby to agree to a plan that I had made. It wasn't hard to get Bobby to agree to take Gail in, all things considering, but convincing Gail that that was a better option was like trying to force a bull into a dog cage…nearly impossible.

But finally, she caved, realizing it was the safer option.

That was months ago. Gail had gone with the promise that as soon as Bobby had trained her enough, she would be coming with me. Meanwhile, Dean and I were hunting all things supernatural all over the country. I hadn't spoken to Gail in weeks, but I knew it was necessary, until she was able to defend herself.

The days passed, turned into weeks and weeks into the months that separated us, and I slowly started to realize one thing: I was falling in love with Gail. The revelation came one morning when I woke up in some motel, Dean in the next bed and my father, who we'd met up with a few days ago, in the next room. I had been dreaming. No psychic visions, just a normal dream. And when I woke up I reached over, across the bed, and was severely disappointed to find she wasn't there. And I knew.

I knew how much I needed her in that one instant. I realized how much I truly cared for her, and that she may not even feel the same way. And I realized that, even while I was with Jessica, there was still that nagging feeling in the back of my head saying I was with the wrong person.

But most importantly, I knew I needed to tell her.

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The car crash. Meg. Dad's mysterious death. And Dean's miraculous recovery.

We finally found ourselves back at Bobby's front door, tried and travel beaten. The weariness vanished though, as soon as the door opened and Gail flew into my arms in a bone-crushing hug. I couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying, but I managed to make out a muffled 'I missed you'.

"What? No hug for me?" Dean remarked sarcastically, when she had pulled away. She obliged, and pulled him in for a quick embrace as well.

"I missed you too Dean." She smiled.

Gail retrieved an apple pie that she had baked earlier that day and served the four of us. When we were done eating, she excused herself and headed towards her room. I followed.

"Try again, Sammy. Your room is down there." She said when we reached the threshold of her room.

"I need to talk to you." That was all it took for her sarcastic demeanor to vanish, replaced by concern. She let me enter. I sat down heavily on her bed. She stood.

I recounted all of what had happened over the past months, not leaving out any details except my revelation.

"I'm so sorry Sam." She said when I had finished.

"Yeah. So am I. but that's not what I wanted to tell you." I said.

"What is it?" she was curious.

For once, I didn't want to sugarcoat anything, so I said it as bluntly as possible. "I'm in love with you."

I heard her draw in a gasp and risked a glance up from where I had been glaring a hole in the floor. She was smiling, not one of her usual soft smiles, but a large, toothy grin.

"I love you too. I have for a long time." She giggled.

Happiness welled up inside me, but was clouded by a moment or doubt. "Are you sure you want this? Cause if you're looking for heaven, it sure as hell isn't me." I said as I looked up at her through my bangs.

"I don't want heaven, Sam. I want you." she said, lovingly.

"You don't get it, Gail. Nothing in this world can save me from the path I've been forced onto."

"I do get it, Sam. And as long as I believe in you, there is something that can be saved. And I don't intend on giving up anytime soon."

And suddenly nothing else in the world mattered except for the blue-eyes girl in front of me.

I leaned up and kissed her. It felt like flying.

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I thought about how we had gotten here. All the little things that had mattered so much that she chose to stay by my side forever.

All the things she had gone through, but still she stays with me.

I looked down at my bride and smiled, not a bright smile of happiness, not yet, but one of comfort and knowledge that with whatever answer she gave me, I'd be okay with what she had given me so far.

"You may kiss the bride." I only vaguely heard the pastor, but I soon found my face being pulled down, and I met Gail in a bruising kiss.

When we parted, and she leaned in and softly whispered in my ear.

"Never."