Don't know if you guys'll pick up on this alone but Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls is their song, which is on the playlist. Also, for those who caught my message on the latest chapter, you may want to reread a couple sections of this cause I have edited bits a little.
Playlist:
youtube .com/watch?v=MYTIiYM3puU&feature=PlayList&p=DEC33CDEF76063B8&index=0&playnext=1
Again, remove the space.
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Well it is hard to sustain
I'll cry if you let me
-
Sam woke early the next day and instantly, as expected, felt the need to rush to the bathroom. He frantically looked around; wondering vaguely if there was any way Sarah would forgive him if he vomited all over the white carpet beneath him. There was no sign of a bathroom anywhere, not even a loose faucet to betray its location and he cursed lightly under his breath.
He spotted a brown urn in the corner and rushed to it, kneeling to remove the cover before explosively letting what little was in his stomach and the remainder of un-metabolized vodka spew thickly into its confines.
After he had finished with his sixth or seventh time and the urn was half-full with the contents of his stomach, he felt a bit better and replaced the cover on the urn, muting the intense smell. Still, his head was swimming around the room like a fish around the sea. Must be a pretty damn hyper fish…He couldn't tell which part of it was the vodka and which was the dehydration, exhaustion, and damn near starvation. Still, one problem at a time.
He knew the best way to get rid of a hangover was to drink a bit of alcohol and a lot of water and vitamin rich food or drinks. Well, best for Dean anyways.
But when he reached down to try and find his flask, he discovered not only was it missing but he was wearing completely different clothes and as he reached up to his face, there was no longer any dirt on it and the cut was stitched up and dressed. In fact, all of the cuts he'd gotten from the glass were. He wondered briefly how he had ever managed to sit still during the stitching and shuttered at the thought.
He gave the room he was in a once over. It was spacious and beautiful. The white walls extended high before meeting the ceiling, which had a single simple sparking chandelier. There were pristine windows, each about a foot taller than Sam and just as wide, letting in the glowing light of early morning. The hour didn't surprise him, as he had fallen asleep mid afternoon yesterday; so in other words, he'd gotten almost eighteen hours of sleep.
The furnishings in the room were gorgeous. The couches were simple, white, and comfortable, probably from IKEA. There were two tall lamps with multiple heads, spread out in a random, unspecific pattern and random, vibrant colors like purple and red and green. All around the room were extremely vague pieces of abstract art in the same vibrant colors as the lamps.
One wall was completely lined with bookshelves. It was stuffed with books on ever subject and size; everything from traditional Shakespeare to modern books like Twilight. One section held a 42-inch Plasma Argos TV and racks and racks bellow it of DVDs and videos.
On a single white coffee table in the center was an assortment of food and drinks and medicines. Everything he could want; including some fresh towels, shampoo, shaving supplies, fresh clothes, and shower gel. With it was a note, which said, "Take a shower!" and a crudely drawn map of the house with a big gold star on the bathroom.
With no delay, Sam gathered the borrowed possessions, marveling at the fact that the clothes were near perfect size for him, and swiftly left the room. Food could wait. He'd probably just puke it up anyways. But smelling like crap around a girl? That was unacceptable.
Though the map Sarah had drawn was clearly not Picasso, it was clear and Sam was in the bathroom in no time. Like every other room in the house, there was a general artistic vibe to it. The walls were burnt orange and the tile under his feet was a weathered white color. There was a gold-framed copy of St. Jerome in the Wilderness across from an elegant antique mirror.
But he didn't take any more time to examine the linoleum. Instead he started up the shower and climbed in while it was still cold. Instantaneously the frigid water chased away every bit of fogginess left over from the hangover. He enjoyed the feel of the cold water pelting across his sore skin.
After he had finished and dressed, his hair still plastered to his scalp, he made his way back to the room he had started out it feeling and looking much, much better. But as he stepped into the white room, there came a loud clapping from the far end. He looked over to see Sarah sitting in one of the ivory armchairs, a big smile on her face and a glass of orange juice in her hand.
"Better?" Sam asked coyly.
"Definitely." She answered, a mocking smile sharp on her face. "Sit." She gestured to the chair beside her.
Sam didn't argue, doing as she had instructed. He looked over at her expectantly as she poured him his own glass of orange juice. "Here. You need this."
Sam grudgingly acknowledged that his skin stayed in a wrinkled pile whenever he pinched it and took the glass with nothing more then a slightly sour face. He'd never really liked oranges that much, but knew it would be good for his system.
She waited till he'd had his fill on the orange juice and then practically forced the rest of the breakfast down his throat before speaking again. "I need to go back to the bar to pick my car up. You okay to drive?"
Sam took inventory of his senses and deemed he was more sober than he'd been all week. "I think so…." She tossed him his keys and rose, starting to make her way back to the door.
She looked back over her shoulder at him. "Well, what are you waiting for? I'm not getting younger. Let's go."
He stared down at the keys in disbelief. "You're not going to make me tell you." He stared at her, dumbfounded.
"What? A girl can't change her suit?" She said with the slightest undertone of regret.
Sam stared at her, his face full of pleading.
"God, you're no fair when you lay that puppy dog look down…" She turned back to him and sat down.
She looked away from him a moment and when she turned back, Sarah's expression softened. "Listen, Sam. I was wrong last night. It wasn't right to try and force you into telling me like that. To corner you… I mean, I'd love it if you told me, but it's not my job to know every little bad thing that happens in your life. I knew you what? Two and a half years ago? For all of one week?" She gave a soft laugh. "For all I know, you could have turned into some psycho serial rapist."
Sam chuckled slightly. That would be better than this even…
"Wait, you're not, are you?" Sarah asked, her eyes a little wider.
"No…it's just that that's kinda funny to me…"
"Phew…For a second, I saw my life flash before my eyes." She said. The room went quiet for a moment and Sam noticed for the first time that there was a clock somewhere, ticking lethargically. With every beat, he winced slightly; remember him counting the second before midnight. And then with a loud bong, it began to announce the hour.
One.
Sam could feel his throat tighten. His hands grew shaky and clammy.
Two.
His heart rate quickened. It thudded so hard; he thought it was going to break through his chest.
Three.
Dean's face, full of feigned reassurance, flashed to his eyes; the last time he'd see him as he always was, trying to protect Sam. Always trying to protect him.
Four.
Sarah was staring wide-eyed at him, mirroring the horror on his face. She glanced around, worried about what could possibly have the hardened hunter on edge.
Five.
Sam's stomach was doing flips. His breakfast bubbled up to his throat.
Six.
He swallowed hard, keeping it as bay. It went down reluctantly and scorched his throat.
Seven.
He could hear Dean screaming. The agonized, terrified look on his blood-speckled face; still glued to his flesh in death.
Eight.
He gripping the seat, rhythmic breathing all but gone. He felt as if he was underwater, sinking…sinking…sinking…
Nine.
His lungs screamed for oxygen. Red and white dots blurred his vision.
Ten.
Lilith's maniacal laughter rang through his ears. The pleasure she took from Dean's last cries and Sam's everlasting pleads.
Eleven.
He winced, waiting for the final bong; vaguely he wondered if his heart could take it.
It never came. It was only eleven. Sam let himself breathe. But still there Dean was there, cold, chalk-white, eyes open. He saw him every time his eyes closed, every time his heart beat. The feel of his brother's blood on his hands returned and he couldn't stop himself from meticulously wiping his hands with a napkin on the table. He pressed it hard and dabbed a bit of water on it, praying he could do something—anything—to get rid of this feeling.
The smell of an open grave found its way into his mind, the burn in his muscles as he lowered the pine casket in. He remembered he'd insisted on doing it alone. Bobby had wanted to be there, to help him. He knew how hard this was for Sam. But it wasn't Bobby's job. He hadn't suffered Dean's death the way Sam had. It hadn't been his fault…that was the last time he'd talked to Bobby. He'd faded out after that, never really checking in with him. He was sure Bobby must be worried for him and the old man was probably just about ready to have an aneurism. He hadn't missed the dozens of worried phone calls.
Sam remembered how meticulously he'd chosen the gravesite. He didn't want some animal to pillage Dean's corpse, nor some random hikers to stumble in on it. Which meant it couldn't be somewhere hikers would want to go; meaning no sentimental graves by a waterfall or canyon. So he'd done his best, picking out a rougher clearing in the woods that was not too deep in that hikers would find it a challenge, but also not so close that someone taking a rest stop wouldn't just stumble upon it. Most of the area had thick grass and was surrounded by tall pines.
A crude wooden cross was all he could manage for a grave marker. Over all, the whole thing had been mediocre. But even still, it had left him broken in more than a thousand ways and ever since he'd been avoiding churches or anything with a crucifix on it about as much as he avoided clocks. They both did the same thing to him.
Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his, stopping his insistent scrubbing. He looked up from his hands to see Sarah looking at him, her eyes intense and filled with concern. "It's okay, Sam. You're okay." She cooed to him gently over and over.
She especially slipped the napkin out of his hands before he even truly noticed and intertwined her fine fingers in his. She waited, let him calm down as she stroked his hand gently. It took him a while, but eventually he could breathe again and his heart had returned to a steady thrum.
"Sarah?" Sam finally spoke.
She looked deep into his eyes. "What Sam?"
He paused a moment, giving her a sad smile. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"Everything."
Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "It's no big deal."
"Actually, it is. It's bigger than you can even imagine." She gave him a questioning look and his opposite had picked at the cushion beneath him. "You know about my job. You know what it's like…the hunt. That hunt so long ago…that was an average one. The kind I see on a regular basis." He turned his face, looking out the window.
"In my job, I see the most horrible things. The ones that would normally be a life changing experience for someone. But I'd seen it so many times; I thought I was numb to it. That wasn't true…it was just that it hadn't happened to me in a while…Something that bad happening to someone I loved… guess I was more then due…"
Sarah's eyes were filled with true curiosity, yet she did not provoke him into more. It made him feel more comfortable and therefore she would get what she wanted. The story…
"You remember what I told you back then? About my girlfriend?" Sam's eyes were distant, not really looking at Sarah.
Sarah nodded. "You said you couldn't stand to get close to someone. Cause every time you did, they got hurt. That you said you'd lost so many people in your life and you couldn't bear to loose another…"
Sam nodded. "It amazes me to think back on it now…what I had then compared to what I feel now…" He looked at her, a haunted look on his face, which sent a small shiver down her spine. "You were right though. I'm not the same person I was back then…"
She squeezed his hand lightly, encouraging him to go on. "I'm older. I'm more lost. I've seen things you can't even fathom. And this last year has been the worst year in my whole life. All for one stupid little mistake…" He paused, not truly sure if he could go on. "Sarah, a few months after I met you, we were on this hunt and…the thing it nearly ripped Dean apart…and then, as if things weren't bad enough, on the way to the hospital, we were in a car accident."
"Oh my god." Sarah said almost involuntarily. "Is Dean alright?"
Sam winced at the word. "He was hurt bad…and he was going to die…but the thing we'd been hunting before, it can do things. Favors for a price…it can give you anything you want in the whole world. But you can only live after making the deal after a set amount of time and then when you die…you go to…" He wasn't sure if he could get out the word. His eyes were burning again, but he needed to finish. To get all of this pain off his chest. Maybe then he could start to feel better again. So, he finally managed to stutter the word out. "Hell…"
Sarah threw him a weird look. "Wait…so is it like…a demon?" Sam hesitated a moment before he nodded. No matter how hard it was to talk about demon deals at this point, he knew it would be better to get the whole story off his chest. Something suddenly hit Sarah and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "You didn't…"
Sam let out a slightly surprised, bitter chortle. "What? No, no…but my dad did. He saved Dean. I didn't even really get to say goodbye to him before…but after, Dean was really torn up. It messed with his head…I never really fully grasped it. No pain compares with it. The knowing that someone went to hell to save you…"
"I'm so sorry Sam." She whispered softly. He looked at her again.
"It's been two years. I'm fine…not that I don't love Dad, but I've had time. I miss him like Hell, but it's not what got me where I am today…"
"You lost me."
"Something else happen. Around a year after we lost our dad…me and Dean…we stopped by this little dinner to grab a bite. I went in while he kept the Impala running. I remember starting to pick through what he said he'd wanted…all the sudden, the lights started going crazy and there was this really intense smell. Next thing I knew I was coming to in the middle of Cold Oak, South Dakota…"
Sarah gave him a look. "Isn't that like supposed to be…"
"The most haunted town in America? Ya, no joke…" he looked far away again. "Turns out we weren't just hunting the demon; in a way, it was hunting us…well me anyway… there were others there… The demon said only one of us was going to get out alive. Eventually, it was down to two of us. Me and this other kid; a soldier ironically. He was convinced that there was no other way… that he had to kill me…" His face went ashen as he spoke and out of his peripheral, he caught the worried look Sarah gave him.
"We fought and I had him beat. I was standing over him, unconscious, with a crowbar on my hand and the knife out of his reach. Shoulda killed him…should have had the guts to smash in his head…but I didn't…I could hear could hear Dean calling my name in the distance. He came down that incline. God was I ever glad to see him. Relieved…Never been so glad to see him in my life…and trust me, I'm happy to see him a fuck a lot." Sam bit his lip. His own words stung like venom, like wildfire.
"That was when he shouted…rather screamed…my name…I didn't even had enough time figure out why he was yelling…this terrible searing pain hit me square in the back…I could hear something snap but couldn't do anything but fall to my knees as Dean rushed to my side. God was I ever confused. I remember his arm going around me and that pain, that horrible, searing pain, intensified in a sudden wave. His face was the last thing I saw…"
He stopped and Sarah watched him, a confused, yet semi-horrified expression on her face. "Sarah, I died…" her face went whiter than his if possible.
It took her a moment to be able to speak and when she did, her voice was dry and low. "So what are you saying Sam? Are you…are you…dead? Are you a s—h…spirit?" He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly.
"Does this feel like a ghost, Sarah? I'm not dead…" his voice wavered. He looked out the window; sure by her gasp that she now grasped what had happened without him saying another word on the matter.
"He didn't…" He bit his lip but said nothing for a long while.
"His deal…" his throat was tight and dry. His eyes were watering and his voice kept catching on his throat. "Came due a…a…week ago…I…I buried his body, three days ago." The room around them was absolute silence save the ticking of the clock, bringing forward the pain again. For the first time, the thought didn't bring tears to his eyes instantaneously. His heart still beat wildly, stopping and starting. His throat still tightened and his eyes still burned. But the tears didn't come. Maybe there was such thing as getting used to it…
Sarah cleared her throat, her voice hesitant but calm. "That must have been hard on you, to talk about something like that…I hadn't realized…I'm so sorry Sam." There was a look Sam couldn't place in her eye. Pity? Sorrow? Sympathy? He was at a loss in her eyes, trying to find the word. She just stood there a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase it right. "Before I say anything else, I need to tell you this. Sam, you're an amazing person. I mean, it took me forever to open up to anyone about my mom…and you…you have three times that and then some…" Sam looked away again, not wanting her to read the truth in his eyes while he still tried to decode the look he'd seen in hers.
"Don't deny it. There are some things you haven't told me. But I don't really care. For you to open up to me as much as you did as soon as you did, Sam…you're unbelievable…"
That was when he finally saw what it was. The only reason he hadn't seen what it was sooner was that it was not the reaction he'd expected. Admiration and awe. She respected what he'd done. "But Sam, you need to know though that you can't blame yourself…"
"Why not?" he laughed bitterly. He got up, going to look out the window. "Sarah, it is my fault. Everyone. Mom. Jess. Pastor Jim. Caleb. Dad. All of Mom's old friends. Ash. Madison. Ruby…And Dean." He whispered the last, as if hoping by muting it, it would become less true. Outside, the sun was shining brightly. The streets were filled with people going about their business. But only Sam could see the bitter truth. That any moment, their worlds could come crumbling down. All they would need is one demon…imagine what the five that had stalked his life could do… "I brought this down on them. I did this…"
"Sam, you're not a bad person…you save people. And you give a lot to do it…you don't even get paid. You're a better person then I am. You just have had some awful things happen to you." She was by his side now, her hand on his shoulder.
"You don't know me…not anymore. You have no idea still, do you?" his voice was cold.
"Sam, you couldn't have done anything …"
"Haven't you thought to ask why the demon was so interested in me?" His question stopped her a moment.
She shook her head. "Sam, I don't care if heaven and hell are battling on top of your chest. I don't care if you spent half your life in hell. You fight evil. You bleed and sweat and loose all you care about. Without you, just think of all the people who would be dead!"
"What you don't see is that there are just as many people who would be alive if not for me." He said quietly.
"Listen to me, Sam. You need to stop this. What would Dean say?" Sam flinched at the word. "He'd want you to take care of yourself. To not keep doing this to yourself." He pushed away from her, but she jumped right into his line of sight, holding his shoulders. Her brown eyes bore into his. "It wasn't your fault."
"How would you know?" He said, breaking her grip on him.
She put her hands down. "You're right. I don't. But I do know this Sam……What ever you did, what ever's happened, it's done. It's over. It's past. You can't change it. I mean, I wished for months after my mother died that I could have seen it coming." Sam's breathing stopped. "That I could have stopped it…told someone that she was sick before even she knew it. Then maybe…just maybe…I could live with myself…
"But that's when my dad told me something. He said, 'Sarah, you need to know that your mother loved you. Loved you so much, that her last thoughts centered around you. She was worried about how you would get on with out her, how much pain you'd be in when she was gone. She wanted you to be happy. Sitting here, dwelling on her death, you're just proving her fear right. She knew that you loved her and that you tried your hardest for her. But Sarah, by being like this…you're not only hurting yourself but her as well…and me…'"
The words, coming from her, made sense. She gave him a warm smile, placing her hand on his shoulder. In that moment, he could suddenly feel something inside change. He stared at his hands, forcing Dean's cold face into his mind. He could still see it. But he could feel the usual intense pain was missing. His hands stayed steady. His eyes didn't burn. His heart didn't have a big gaping hole in it. It still hurt, but no longer in the same way. Like the ghost of a wound, a scar; just a remembered pain that had once hit him so hard. It was strange to say, but he felt good. Better than he had in weeks.
And it was all because of Sarah. She'd found him when he most needed it. She'd helped him, listened to him. Most girls would think he was nuts. Most girls would be gone. But she had understood. She'd stood by him, helping him work through his problems. She'd cared.
And she'd gotten through to him, helped break a hole in his shell. And now he could see the sunlight shining down on him, lit up by her face. She had rescued him, he was sure. He knew there was still a long way to go, but he didn't care. Not in that moment, anyways.
And as he stared as his savior, his angel, he smiled. Warmth rushed in his veins again. He could hear her breathing, her heart beating softly as she waited for a response. He couldn't help but do the first thing that came to mind. He moved in slowly, his eyes close and…
He kissed her.
It was slow, sweet. At first, she seemed shocked, her lips locked tightly with surprise. He knew it was because of his sudden change, his one-eighty. But then she got the idea.
And she kissed him back.
The sun warmed their backs, a warm bloody color shimmering behind his eyelids. His heart rate quickened and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She engulfed his senses. The feel of her skin as he brushed her neck gently, sending a chill down her back. Her sweet smell, just as she had smelled last time, strawberries and some other faint unidentifiable smell. Her hair billowed around him, blocking the sunlight like a silky brown curtain. It was down for once. He'd liked that. He could hear her heart, racing now. Feel it thud in her chest as his body pressed against hers. His hands went to her face, her cotton skin caressing his calloused hands.
He'd forgotten how good kissing was. It had been so long… Last time he remembered had ended just about as well as the rest of his life was going. In tragedy. The last person he'd kissed died. But here with Sarah, it felt right. She was right. They'd had something.
There was an allure to her, a connection he'd felt since the moment he'd seen her in the dinner. But he'd been too washed-up in his pain to really see it. But it burned brightly now, taking out every other thought he'd had.
And it wasn't even just that. She was strong enough. Strong enough to defend herself from the Sam Winchester curse, as she'd proven before. She could hold her own. She knew about his life and didn't care. He knew how rare that was; even having personally seen what happened when you met a girl who wasn't.
He hadn't even noticed at first as she led him back to the couch, their mouths still locked together. Hadn't noticed until she'd stumbled a little, breaking the kiss for a fraction of a second as the back of her knees collided with the stereo system. But he went willingly enough, even after he saw what she was doing.
The system started blaring out a song he hadn't recognized at first. After all, he had hardly listened to any other type of music than the type which Dean had. But he quickly found he did know the song.
And I'd give up forever to touch you,
Cause I know that you feel me somehow.
She broke the kiss, her eyes smoldering with a lust he hadn't seen from her about her eyes pierced through his soul, breaking through every shield he ever put up. In those moments, he felt exposed. But in a good way. She seemed to know exactly how to draw him in, silently moving to the other side of the couch with her gaze never leaving his. He waited for her to make the first real move.
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,
And I don't want to go home right now.
She tipped her head slightly, an invitation to come forward. He came willingly enough. She slid one hand down his arm and blew across his face, hints of breakfast still in her breath. He kissed her tenderly, allowing her to deepen it when she pushed for more.
And all I can taste is this moment,
And all I can breathe is your life,
And sooner or later it's over,
I just don't want to miss you tonight.
His hand slid beneath her shirt. Her skin was warm and tender. Like if he so wanted in that moment, he could break her as easily as a twig. He pushed the thought from his mind, drawing her in firmly. This close, her could hear her heart beating wildly. But then he realized he didn't just feel it. He had become it.
And I don't want the world to see me,
Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
He didn't notice anything but her. Not every step toward her room. Not the creaks in the floorboard. Not even the stitch spitting in his side as the two messily entered her room.
And you cant fight the tears that ain't coming,
Or the moment of the truth in your lies.
When everything feels like the movies,
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive.
But she had. She pulled away slightly as her hand ran across the wound. She frowned slightly, obviously wondering if they should stop. His full on kiss the next second seemed to strip the idea from her mind.
And I don't want the world to see me,
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
Upon reaching the bed, she pulled away yet again. He was starting to get a little annoyed with that. But also a bit turned on. She undid the buttons down her shirt slowly, her eyes never once leaving his…
And I don't want the world to see me,
Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
And I don't want the world to see me,
Cause I dont think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
I just want you to know who I am.
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I know that the recap is pretty damn bad normally, but bear with me. I knew I had to add it and when you read Sarah's half, you may just realize why.
