Title: Her
Summary: Because the idea of Sam hanging out around Samuel and his crew for a whole year is a little odd. ~ He went back to her, to the girl he met all those years ago, to the love he never forgot~
Setting: Before the beginning of season six. After Eclipse, everything happened but the wedding.
Pairing: Sam/Bella AU/OOC
Backdrop: Bella and Sam met the year before she left for Forks, and after Sam left to go to college. They dated for awhile, Sam left and weeks later Bella left for Forks.
-.-.-...-...-
She's been crying. Her face is red and she won't look at him, and he knows that she has been spilling her tears over his decision to go. To keep her safe, and away from his 'family'; away from the bad luck they all, at one time or another, seem to bring.
She sniffles quietly.
He wants to explain his reasons again, to make her understand the danger he would be putting her in if they were to know she even existed; if they found out that he cared about her, even though something inside him is definitely missing.
Instead, he stays silent and lets her pack away his clothes, not telling her that they will be wrinkle and disorganized in a week's time; he lets her have that, because he knows she needs to be distracted, busy, to keep from crying.
She sighs when the last of his shirts is tuck neatly inside his duffel bag, her hands going immediately to wipe at her eyes; he imagine them red and swollen from the tears that don't let up.
He wants to hug her, to tuck her away in his side, and hush her cries; he wants things he knows he shouldn't.
"Ella," he whispers from his perch on the bed.
He doesn't know why but a sob escapes her at the sound of his voice; he frowns because he thought for sure that she would have like the use of the nickname he so much despises; it is as childish as Sammy.
She muffles a cry again.
Apparently he was wrong, and once again the knowledge that he's not ever going to understand her, stabs at his mind. Whatever is missing from inside him took away his capability for interpreting emotions and feeling altogether.
"I'm ok," her small voice echoes in the quiet of the room, interrupting his thoughts. Her voiced had quivered, it had shaken in its smallness and he knows that she not, that she's everything but ok.
"You've never lied to me…" He reminds her with a frown, and a sting of dislike hit him at the thought that she might begin to now.
"And I won't begin now." She replies, killing that thought as if she had heard it.
She turns to face him. She looks dishevel, distraught, and tired but he still finds her beautiful, even with all her little flaws and imperfections that he can pinpoint from his place on the bed. She bites her bottom lip, which he knows is too big for her small mouth and always makes her seem upset, like a child without candy. He doesn't find that attractive, he doesn't tell her that. "I'm ok…" she pauses as if she's gathering her thoughts, or maybe pausing for a dramatic effect. He never knows, with her it could be both. "Well, not with your every decision but, I'm ok; resigned, you could say." And she sounds it too.
Sam didn't know you could mentally want to erase a word out of your vocabulary until then; when her red lips sounded that word, and her dark muddy eyes looked at him resigned.
"I'm coming back." He reassures, protests, trying to erase the image of her so pathetically broken out of his head.
"And I will be right here, Cher." She promises, the French endearment slipping out; their time in New Orleans has definitely changed her.
"I know." He stands up from his seat and walks the few steps that separate them. "And you will be safer here." He repeats what has become his campaign's motto.
She nods, the pout slipping away into hardened lines; she wants to argue, her stand tells him that, and by the tightening of her fists he knows she also wants to beat some sense into him, but her eyes have that resigned look, and she does neither.
"I know you don't sleep but I've to drive you to the airport tomorrow." She says, and he knows those were not the words that were passing through her mind. She picks up his duffel bag from the bed and throws it on the floor. "C'mon, keep me company." She orders as she gets under the covers, that resigned look still sketch upon her face.
He gets in besides her, his hands going to her waist to bring her body closer; she moves without protest, treading her fingers into his too long hair, and arching up to kiss his neck, where he knows he tastes salty from the heat and sweat. She kisses him like she doesn't care.
"I love you." She murmurs in his ear, her voice fill with emotion, and it echoes inside his head.
He tilts her head up and kisses her, his lips conveying what he doesn't say, won't ever say, because he will not lie to her; he doesn't love her, doesn't really know how to feel love for her. "I remember loving you," he tells her instead, against her dry, chapped lips, his breath on her face. "I remember only being 19 and loving you like nothing else." He feels her smile, and chuckles before kissing her again, bringing her body under his, and surrounding her with him, her senses full of him. Only him.
She arches, and moans underneath him, bringing him closer and closer, until there is nothing but clothes in the way. He kisses her mouth like he always does, hard like he's trying to devour her and slow like he wants to comite her taste to memory. Her moans and small gasps fill the room, and he kisses her, and kisses her until he is sure he won't forget her bubblegum and whiskey taste.
-.-.-..-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
After, he watches her sleep; the rise and fall of her small chest, the disjointed words that fall from her dark red lips, and the twitches of her fingers as they try and grasp more of him.
He likes it all: likes the way she wants him even in her sleep, likes the way her body cries for him, likes the way she always smiles after a kiss, but most of all he likes that she will never lie to him, that he knows in his too logic, emotionless brain that she would never betray his hard earned trust.
He thinks, tracing his finger over the small scar in the inside of her wrist, that if something wasn't missing from inside him he would love her. He would love her, and love her like nothing else.
She wakes earlier than her usual 10 A.M 'I have to really pee' routine, and watches him watch her with unreadable eyes; there's no frown or smile or hard lines to help him guess her mood, so he stays silent, and waits until her need to fill the silence arises.
He doesn't have to wait long.
"I was thinking," she begins and he already knows he won't like where the conversation is headed.
He moves an errand lock of hair behind her ear. "About?"
"Samuel." She waits for him to absorb the information offered and quickly resumes. "Can you trust him?"
He doesn't hesitate on his half true answer. "Yes"
She yawns, long and hard, and he knows she's calling bullshit and giving him time to rectify his answer. "Maybe… I'm not sure but he's family." He thinks that should be enough.
"No, he's not family! He's a man you've never known, who was in hell for over 20 years, who would surely sell you out if a better deal came along." She's ruthless in her deliver of her opinion; honest to a fault. She picks out flaws on his belief. "I know somewhere in that systematic brain of yours has to be some kind of somethin', telling you not to trust people at face value!" she's kneeling up now, towering over his lying form, her arms waving around to accentuate her point.
"I know what am doing." It's his calm response to her heated argument. "Just trust me, ok?" he asks.
"How Sam?" He can see her swallow, fighting the treacherous tears that threaten to fall. "How can I trust you if you don't have a lick of common sense, or even self-preservation! How in the world can I trust you to come back whole, if every time I close my eyes I can see Samuel stabbing you in the back?" She's almost shouting now, her face flush red, and her eyes wild. "Figuratively speaking, of course! He might just shoot you." She adds as an after thought when he doesn't respond.
He nods. "I won't leave you." His voice is fierce as he tells her this, and his hand goes to her still flat stomachs, and he repeats. "I won't leave either of you." She only nods.
-.-
It's late in the afternoon when they decide to drive to the airport, they're both quiet, too quiet, and it unnerves him. Sam drives the truck at an alarming pace, and for once Isabella doesn't scream his ear off about the speed. Instead, she looks out the window, her cell phone at her ear as she responds almost robotically to CeCe's attempts at cheering her up.
He knows he should be placating her fears about his grandfather and this trip, knows he should be saying something to make it disappear, but he has tried all that before and he knows it doesn't work. Nothing ceases her fear and anger but the mention of their unborn child, and he's above that, he tells himself, he's not going to begin using his child as a tool; he's not going to damage what little he has to call his own. He promised himself that he won't be like his dad.
So, instead he takes her ridiculous cold hand in his, tries not to frown when she doesn't flex her finger for him, and kisses her knuckles, before bringing her hand into his lap. "Isabella, we're almost there." He announces, in case she hasn't been reading the road signs like he though she was.
She nods, and with a look his way flexes her fingers in his hand.
-.-.
Their good-bye is not overly dramatic or romantic.
He parks the truck on the front doors, making it easier for her to maneuver out of the busy place, and kisses her once inside the car to the insistent tune of the honks behind them.
And he kisses her once again, after she has changed seats and he's standing outside the driver's side door. "I'd call you when I land." She nods. "At Ceces's, ok?" He adds, mainly to make sure she's really going there and not to work. And that she won't be alone.
"At Cece's," she nods. "See you later, Winchester." She breathes before pulling him down to kiss his cheek. "I will see you later, Sam." She whispers before pulling back.
"Not later than awhile," He promises before he walks away, disappearing into the sea of people, and not looking back.
Not even once.
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Sooo, this is just an oneshot that might expand into more! Hope you all enjoy, please review!
AN/When Sam says "I remember only being 19 and loving you like nothing else" I'm referring to the backdrop of the story.