Haven awoke pressed tightly against the warm, hard body of Sam Winchester. He was completely engulfing her. His arm was draped over her side, his hand splayed open across her back. His legs were entwined with hers. Her face was pressed against his chest where her hands fisted his t-shirt. His smell, a combination of soap and mint, surrounded her. He shifted against her, letting out a small breath. Haven slowly pushed on his chest, angling herself back enough so she could raise her head to look up at him.
He was asleep, eyes closed against the world around him. The same beautiful eyes of the little boy she'd seen grown up through Sam's own memories, the same eyes that could fill with such sadness, strength, and determination. Amidst all the self doubt and hatred, she saw the man he was. She'd been overwhelmed at first by the sorrow and fear, but underneath it there was light, and goodness, and love. Haven had dreamt while she slept. Dreams of brave young boys, and a love so strong it could never be broken. Brothers bonded through pain and need.
She'd dreamt of the purest of loves given freely and truthfully. Haven brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes, and gently tucked it behind his ear. In Sam's memories, she'd seen how Jessica had loved him, knew how Sam had felt about her. The way she had died was awful, but when they had been together it was beautiful.
Haven felt the familiar throbbing of her heart, the deep yearning for something she couldn't name. Whenever she was with Sam, she ached for something. Something, like what she'd seen with Jessica. Her fingers grazed along his cheek and chin and she leaned in softly placing her lips on his. It was a brief kiss, and when she pulled back she was met with the startled eyes of the man she was falling in love with.
Sam stirred as his arm loosened its hold and his eyes blinked slowly. Her fingers caressed his jaw, and his lips parted. His hand slid along her back and up to cup the back of her head. When their lips met her heart swelled and her cheeks flushed. Her fingers made their way into his hair, teasing at the wisps that curled along the nape of his neck. He sighed against her mouth as his tongue slid along her bottom lip and instinctively, Haven's mouth fell open.
Sam deepened the kiss. Her lips were soft, pliant, and eager and his resolve from last night fell away. She was so warm, and right; he felt no darkness, no emptiness. He touched her hips, pulling gently at her dress, drawing it up so he could reach her skin. His calloused fingers pressed into her thighs, as his lips slid down her neck, kissing and sucking at her skin.
"Oh Sam…" It was just a whisper, a soft inflection of his name, but the sound of it, the way she said it, it was like she was giving herself to him. Sam drew back and looked at her, eyes searching hers. He saw more than he wanted to in those blue eyes and panic began creeping up his spine.
Reality crashed around him and his face shadowed with the long held knowledge that everyone who'd ever cared for him in any way had died. Shifting away from her, Sam pulled himself up and sat on the side of the bed.
"Sam?" Haven asked, also sitting up. "What is it? I sense your apprehension, but I do not understand it."
"We can't do this."
"Why?"
Sam swallowed, "I'm not good, Haven. I'm a freak with poison running through my veins. I've done horrible things, brought on the end of the damn world for God's sake!"
"Stop. Sam, stop. Why can't you see all the good things you have done? How can you be so blind to your own goodness and light?"
A hand caressed his shoulder and Sam turned his head to look back at her. She had pushed herself up onto her knees; her hair hung down and around her in waves, her lips were still swollen from his kisses, cheeks flushed. But it was her eyes that Sam couldn't bear to look at. Her eyes sparkled and shone with hope and forgiveness, and … love. He couldn't accept that. No, he didn't deserve it. Not after everything. Not after Ruby and the blood. Not after what he'd done. He didn't deserve forgiveness or love.
Shoving himself up off the bed, Sam stood and ran a hand through his hair. "You're wrong. I see exactly what I am and what I did. If you were smart, you'd stay away from me. You see me? You know me?! Then you know that everyone I have ever cared for or loved has died. I won't do that to anyone else, Haven. I won't do that to you!"
"Sam, I …"
Sam closed his eyes, and shook his head. She didn't. "No… I'm just your mission, someone you need to save, make better… heal. That's all."
Haven stood, trembling, her calm falling away, her confusion growing. "You're more than that to me. I feel things in here." She laid her hand over her heart, and reached a hand out to him.
Sam, frowned, his face drawn and sad, "You can't. We can't. I don't know what you want, or expect, but this…" he pointed between the two of them, "has to stop."
"What I want? I want you to forgive yourself. I want you to understand that what has happened to you isn't your fault." Tears filled Haven's eyes as she stepped towards him. "I want you to see what I see and quit thinking about all the horrors in life and remember what was good."
"There is nothing good." Sam rubbed a hand harshly down his face before turning and grabbing the door. "I can't do this. I am going out there to fight Satan today and I can't do this right now."
"Sam!"
He stopped, eyes scrunched and worried, lips pressed tightly together. Haven took a step towards him, he took a step back. Frustrated, Haven threw her hands up and sighed loudly. "What if you don't come back?"
"Yeah, so what if I don't? We are going out there today to fight the devil, none of us may come back. I don't want to die, Haven, but it's certainly a possibility. Which is another reason why you should stay away from me. You have to stop."
"Is that how it works? Is there a switch so you can turn off your feelings?" Haven quickly moved towards him, grabbed his hand, and whispered. "What if you don't come back?" Sam stared down at her, swallowing harshly, shaking his head. "Is this all you're going to give me?" she asked. Her lips trembled as she squeezed his hand tightly. "What if you don't…" her voice broke off as she shuddered and took a deep breath, "What if you don't come back?"
"Damn it, Haven." Sam's hand cupped her chin, his thumb brushing over the tear that was trailing down her cheek. Bending down, he kissed her forehead and mumbled, "I can't." With one last look at her, Sam turned and walked out the door.
Haven didn't pause, or cry. She didn't wait. She opened the door and went down the stairs after him. She found him in the kitchen getting a glass of water. "Sam Winchester!"
Sam turned, his eyes wide and startled. "I am an Angel of the Lord," Haven said. "I am not a child, nor am I weak or stupid." Straightening up to her full height, Haven let her eyes shine the bright blue of her grace. "I know what I want and how I feel. Do not dare to tell me how to live or who to care for. I was in your mind, to help you. I saw all your faults and all your rights. I know who you are, even if you don't. You are good, and brave. You fight to save people's lives everyday sacrificing yourself in the process. You deserve to be loved!"
A throat cleared across the room, and Haven spun around. Dean stood in the doorway, his eyes shifting between the two of them. "Am I interrupting something?"
Haven glared at him, her anger increasing. "And you!"
Dean held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't bring me into this."
"You are as bad as he is. Self-loathing, fool. You push off your insecurities onto your brother and he just eats them up, believes every negative thing that comes out of your mouth. Despite the fact that they're all lies, and you say them because you feel responsible for Sam's actions. You spew your despair in mean hurtful ways, but then later agonize over those same words." Haven glared at the both of them, her chest heaving with her ire, her fists clenched. Both men stood astonished, mouths hanging open, eyebrows raised, and arms hanging limply at their sides. "Look at you! Both of you, standing there mirror images of each other. Same expression, same dumb-founded looks and addled brains unwilling to understand that you are worth more alive than you are dead!" Glaring one more time, at them she turned and walked out the front door.
"Well, that was entertaining," Bobby said as he wheeled into the room, slight smirk on his face.
"Shut up." Sam and Dean mumbled together. Dean grabbed a mug out of the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee. Sam followed, and sat at the table. It was quiet as the minutes on the clock ticked by and the time drew nearer for them to leave.
Outside, Haven was confronting yet another man whom thought he could tell her what to do. "I am going with you."
"No, you are not." Castiel stood before her calmly, his expression bland and without any anger.
"I will not stay here. I can help," Haven growled in frustration, her body starting to shake.
"You are not a warrior. You will only get in the way."
"I am an angel. I am stronger than Jo or Ellen… I can help to protect them."
"You will get in the way. Sam and Dean will be the ones trying to protect you. They will not be able to concentrate on what needs to be done."
"Why? Because I am female?" Haven glanced down at her form, unconsciously tightening her muscles, and straightening up.
"Because they care about you." Castiel said gently.
"And Ellen and Jo?" She thought of the two slight women and frowned, they were more likely to come to harm than she was.
"We are not talking about them. We are discussing you." Castiel began to walk back towards the house.
"You can't stop me!" Haven yelled after him, using her true voice to get his attention and rattling the windows of the house behind them.
Castiel stopped and turned towards her, his face grave and serious. "If you get injured or worse, die, you will only be adding to Sam's guilt and shame."
Haven's face fell as she stared at the ground. He was right. Dust started to swirl around her as her body reacted to the powerful emotional surge that rushed up through her. "Damn you, Castiel," she muttered darkly.
Inside, Sam and Dean glanced up at each other both frowning as the windows rattled. The front door flew open and a gust of wind blew papers around the room, knocked over empty glasses and rustled Sam's hair. Somewhere upstairs a door slammed. Sam and Dean leapt from their seats, and their chairs clattered to the floor as Cas appeared in the kitchen.
He was rumpled, his jacket askew, hair mussed, a frown marred his features. "It is time to go," he announced before he disappeared again.
