Epilogue 1 – Sam and Lara

Sam stood outside the door of Lara's apartment, white-knuckling a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. He didn't know what she preferred to drink, red or white, and he wasn't really a wine man himself so he was forced to take the advice on the little information labels at a local gas station– the only place that was open at this time of the night/morning.

Not particularly classy, he thought. But then, this visit wasn't really about the wine anyway.

He'd phoned her on the way back from the total fucking nightmare that was Haversham's ruined house to let her know they were on their way back into London. He filled her in on most of the key news, namely that things had gotten very, very bad for a while. But on the plus side - Haversham was dead, he and Dean physically, at least, were good as new and Cas was glowing like a radioactive Christmas tree and loving it.

And that he would be going back home to the States - today.

She told him he had better get the hell round to her flat pronto then, if he wanted to give her the wine he owed her.

He had gotten a smirking, innuendo-filled Dean to drop him at his apartment in Stratford so that he could at least shower and change into some half decent, un-bloodied, un-ripped clothes, and then walked a quiet, thought-filled 15 minutes to her place. It was now early morning, just gone 5am and birds were beginning their morning chorus. The rain had stopped during their drive back and it looked like it was going to be another mild autumn day.

He had been standing outside the door for a good long moment, lost in what he was going to say to her, when she opened it anyway. "Bloody hell Sam, really? Were you ever going to knock?"

"Yeah…I just….here," He thrust the bottle into her hands, "I got you that nice wine, like I promised."

She took the time to look at it and smiled, and his heart made an unexpected thump in his chest. "Not a bad choice at all Sam! Come on in eh?"

Lara stepped aside to let him enter. The front door opened directly onto a living area not too dissimilar to his own apartment in Stratford, but a lot more homely. This place was actually lived in. Cushions and chairs and plants were in all the right places, and the couple of lamps she had on lit the room with a soft warm ambience. Photos and bits of impressionist art prints adorned the walls and tables.

She started walking to what looked like the kitchen. "I don't know how hungry you are, breakfast is probably just some bacon and toast if that's ok?"

"Oh, its fine – I wasn't really expecting you to cook."

"Toast isn't really cooking is it? I thought you might want something to eat – it's been a very long night. Sit anywhere you want, I'll go open this. Unless you prefer a beer? It's not too early for you to have a drink is it?"

"I will take a beer very gratefully, thank you." He wandered over to the couch but felt too awkward to just sit. She was back within a minute, a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle of Stella in the other. She handed him the lager and smiled, motioning for him to take a seat already. She was dressed comfortably, in jeans and a white shirt and he thought she had never looked so lovely. Nothing like the broken-nosed, blood-stained, terrified woman that went through hell just two days ago, he thought as a wave of guilt that he couldn't hide shuddered through him.

They both sat and, for a moment, neither one of them said anything. It was a strange thing…up until two days ago they had only known each other from the bus stop. Now here he was in her apartment with some serious new history between them.

He took a swig of beer. "You, um you have a nice place." Crap line, he thought.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, thanks. Look Sam…"

He interrupted. "I know, I'm sorry, this is… I don't know what this is. After everything you went through, then finding out about…what's out there…and the things I do, I was surprised you wanted to see me again to be honest, even if it was just to say goodbye…"

"Sam, I feel like I'm still in shock really about…well, about everything. I've no idea how my life can go back to the way it was before, knowing there's actual real-life vampires and angels and ghosts and…" She hesitated. "…and that Lucifer is real." She took hold of his hand and a wave of heat ran through him. Her skin was smooth and soft and warm and he never wanted her to lift it away from him, ever. "But there is something I am pretty certain about – and it's really important to me that you know this: I don't blame you for what happened. For any of it."

"How can you say that?!" Sam spluttered. He was genuinely taken aback.

"Because I mean it. I could blather on and on about how weren't responsible for those meatheads kidnapping me and how you have to stop beating yourself up about all the shit that's happened. But all I'm going to say is this: you didn't ask for any of it to happen did you?"

"No, but…"

"Well then. Let's move on." She was suddenly abrupt and pulled her hand away. The missing weight of it felt heavier than when it had been there. "I don't suppose we have much time do we? When are you going home?"

"Soon as I leave here. Cas has got so much weird angel-juice at the moment he can zip me and Dean back to the bunker in a heartbeat."

"Bunker? Like 'in a war' bunker? What the hell?"

"Oh, um, we live there." He saw her grimace. "No, its not as bad as it sounds! It's a proper building with bedrooms, and a library and the greatest water pressure ever anywhere, ever. Trust me, it's a pretty awesome place."

"Oookay, sure." He could see she didn't quite believe him. "Sam…are you and Dean going to be ok?"

"That's a big question." He took the time to down the rest of his beer in one. "I think so? I hope so? What he did…its not something I can forget. Or forgive. But I know that he loves me and everything he did he did with my best interests at heart so I have to let it go."

"What did he do? Can I ask?" She looked at him earnestly.

"You can ask me anything Lara, you've more than earned that right. But it's a long story and like you said, we don't have much time left together. And I don't want to waste it talking about Dean."

He picked at his beer label, unable to look her in the eye as he asked: "How about you come over to the States for a vacation and we can really properly talk? See the bunker for yourself?"

He felt a hand on his face, and he lifted his chin to see Lara's eye were wet. "I'd like to see you again Sam, so very bloody much. You're the most incredible, special person I think I have ever met…and I've met a real-life angel! But the life you lead, the violence…it freaks me out…"

He felt something inside his chest break. "I get it. Honestly, I do. I wont lie to you and say I'll try to give it up, or that it's not that bad really. It is that bad really. Worse, even. I know for sure, 100 percent, that being a hunter will end up killing me, like it killed my mom, my dad, and basically everyone I have ever known and loved. It's broken me so many times and taken everything from me that ever mattered." This time he reached out and took her hand. He desperately needed to feel that warmth again. "And yet I'm still going to leave you, to go back out there and start that old life all over again. It's not a choice…it's just who I am." His eyes were wet too now, and he brushed his face almost angrily.

Lara reached up with her free hand and ran her fingers across his damp cheeks. He closed his eyes and leaned into her cupped palm, and the next thing he knew her warm soft lips were against his. The feel of them took his breath away and he almost dizzied out for a moment. Then a fierce instinct for her, a desire to fully embrace her took over and he reached out with both hands and ran them through her hair as he pushed his lips harder against hers. Their mouths opened and they kissed deeply, increasing waves of longing running through both of them. Sam was utterly lost in the feel, touch and smell of her and he wasn't sure he would find his way out again. Lara gently pushed him backwards and he went with it as she lay on top of him on the couch, her body fully against his. They embraced and kissed and ran their hands over each other for several blissful minutes, before she broke off, breathlessly.

"Fuck breakfast, let's just go to bed."