Don't Pull This Thread - Part 1 of 8

Summary: Sam reveals how he told Lexie his darkest secret, and she makes some revelations of her own.

Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn, injuries mentioned, canon-type violence described.

W/C 5.3k.

Notes: switches between Sam and OC POV. Canon divergent.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Female OC.

Pairing: fluffy friendships (for now)

A/N: This is not my typical style of writing. It was written 2 years ago when I had bad habits and was getting back into fic writing after a 10+ year hiatus. But I adore the concept and I want to share it.

Sam POV

Flashback

I'm sitting in a booth at the back of a bar I don't know the name of. I'm on my fourth coffee and searching the web for a new case to take my mind off the last one. Dean left almost an hour ago with a redhead who I'm not entirely sure wasn't a prostitute.

I click on a news article that could be something of interest, and before it loads, my laptop is pushed closed. I'm ready to scold the culprit as I raise my head to find the piercing blue eyes of my best friend staring back at me.

"What's up, dork?" Lexie asks with a broad smile on her freshly sun-kissed face.

I scramble out of the booth to hug her. "Hey, nerd," I greet her in a bone-crushing embrace. It takes all my willpower not to swing her around like a cliche movie reunion scene.

"Sam. Need. To. Breathe," she groans after a minute.

We settle down into the booth, and she shrugs off her jacket. I sit staring at her, mouth agape. I can't believe she's here, sitting in front of me. I haven't seen her in almost a year, and now here she is smiling her goofy smile at me. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Mexico?"

Since I've been on the road with Dean, I've kept in contact with Lexie via email, phone calls, and text messages while she was off exploring the world.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Nice to see you too, Winchester."

I let out a small laugh, "not what I meant."

"I was in Mexico. But after our call the other day, I needed to see you." she tells me honestly, "Something in your voice, the not so convincing 'I'm fine', told me there was something more you weren't telling me."

I avert my eyes because she's right. She knows me too well. The phone call she is referring to was just after the Maddison ordeal. The werewolf girl I couldn't save. The first woman I've slept with since Jess and I couldn't save her. People always die around me.

I told Lexie as much as I could, leaving out the werewolf part, and claimed Maddison had left town rather than me having to put a bullet through her chest.

Lexie reaches across the table and puts her hand over mine. "I knew I'd never get it out of you over the phone, so I hopped on the first flight."

"How did you even find me?"

She scoffs. "Sam, please, I was studying computer science," she says like it's completely obvious. "I know enough nerds and have ample cleavage. It took me less than ten minutes to track your phone."

I laugh with her, and it feels good to genuinely laugh at something, even an invasion of my privacy. I keep my smile and narrow my eyes at her, "isn't that illegal?"

"Only if I get caught, or you snitch on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

I drop my eyes again. Now that the fun part is over, I know she's going to ask me about the heavy stuff. How much can I really tell her? How honest can I be? I've talked with her about a lot of things; she was my confidant when I was with Jess. I've told her more about my family than I have ever told anyone, and Lexie has been my shoulder to cry on since I met her.

She's been there for me as much as I have been there for her. When tragedy struck her life, I was right by her side. However, how can I tell my best friend about my real life? About the things I do on the road with Dean, about the creatures and monsters that she told me haunted her dreams as a kid.

Lexie watches me cautiously; she can probably hear the cogs turning over in my head. The sad set of my eyes, along with the rise and fall of my chest as I try to contain my emotions betray me, and she lifts my head to look at her.

"Sam, talk to me." she pleads, "whatever it is that's going on, please just tell me."

"I want to," I confess, and it's the truth. I do want to tell her; I don't want to lie to her anymore. "But I'm not sure how much you'll believe."

"If it's coming from you, I'll know it's the truth."

She trusts me, and I know she won't be angry with me for keeping it from her for so long. I know she will understand it was to protect her.

"Not here," I say, looking around the crowded bar; it's not the right place.

She nods, and without further question, we slip out of the booth.

Lexie sits on the hood, her feet propped on the bumper, and she watches me pace back and forth nervously in front of a fence at the end of the dirt road I pulled onto. I've been pacing for so long and stomping my feet down so hard I've made a swirling cloud of chalky dust.

I'm struggling with the decision now. In the bar, I decided to tell her the truth, everything. But the short drive has given me enough time to doubt whether or not what I'm doing is the right thing. I'm opening her world up to some crazy shit, and if anyone deserves that less than Lexie, I don't know who it is. She's been through enough; she doesn't need the weight of my world on her shoulders too.

"Sam, you're making me dizzy," she says with a light-hearted chuckle trying to calm me.

"You're going to think I'm crazy." I think aloud.

"I know you're not crazy."

"After I tell you, you might change your stance on that."

My pacing proves too annoying, and she hops off the car to stand in my path, placing a hand on my arm to keep me still. "Try me," she challenges.

I inhale deeply, looking up to the sky, exhaling I ask, "you believe in aliens and ghosts, right?"

I wait a beat then look at her. She raises an eyebrow, knowing that I'm already aware of the answer, but humors me and answers anyway. "Yes."

We have spent numerous nights debating the existence of aliens and ghosts, conspiracy theories with Jess, my roommate, and Lexie's then-boyfriend, Shawn. Lexie and I were always on the yes side, and Jess and Shawn were always on the no side.

"What if I told you that ghosts really are real?" I ask the sky, unable to meet her eyes. If her reaction is bad, if she thinks I'm certifiably crazy by the time I've explained everything, I know I won't be able to take the look in her eyes. I know I won't be able to accept the disappointment or cope with the knowledge of Lexie thinking less of me.

I continue slowly and purposely, so she knows I'm being serious, "amongst all the other things in those stupid horror movies Jess made us watch."

"I would ask you why you were telling me that they were real?"

"Because they are, and me and my brother hunt them. It's what we do. We travel the country and kill supernatural monsters."

Her grip tightens on my arm, and I hear her suck in a gulp of oxygen as she holds her breath. I wait for her to say something, anything, have some kind of reaction. When I'm sure she must be close to passing out from lack of air, I can't take it anymore, and I step away from her.

I pull myself onto the hood of the car and examine the rough skin of my hands. "Say something, please," I request.

She breathes out loudly, "honestly, that kind of explains a lot."

I let out a half-hearted laugh, but I still can't bring myself to look at her.

She says my name as she stands in front of me. When I don't move or raise my head, she slaps my knees, making me part them so she can stand between my legs. She touches my cheek timidly, a request to look at her. I take a shaky breath and take the risk of fixing my gaze to hers.

I expect to see a joking smile because she doesn't believe me but what I find is empathy and kindness. Her words are soft and full of understanding. "Start from the beginning and tell me everything."

My world opens up with those eight words. A weight is lifted off my shoulders, and I have someone else I can confide in. Someone other than Dean, someone non-judgemental or irrational at times. Lexie is one of the most level-headed people I know. It's good to know I have an outsider I can go to, to gain a different perspective when I need it.

Present Day

My eyes are unfocused as I tell Dean about the time I revealed my secret to Lexie. "I swear she took it better than anyone ever has. Learning about all the things that go bump in the night didn't phase her one bit. She was more concerned about me, what it was doing to me."

"Do you think she already knew?" Dean's question brings me back to the present. "Not about you but all things supernatural? Was she already hunting by then?"

I shrug my shoulders. I didn't know that she was hunting now, let alone if she was back then. Dean groans, running his hands over his face. He's frustrated; he wants answers too. He likes to be active, doing something productive; we both do. Right now, sitting and waiting for Lexie to wake up is maddening.

Because we don't know what happened to her, we do the only thing we can do, research. Dean researches by asking me questions about the girl who is supposed to be my best friend but right now seems more like a stranger.

"What tragedy struck her?" he asks.

I reach into my bag that's sitting on the floor beside my chair and rummage around until I find the news clipping, I pass it to Dean, and he reads the headline aloud, "Three generations of a family wiped out in birthday party massacre."

I watch Lexie while Dean reads the article; I already know what it says. I was there, I lived it with Lexie, and I spent three months with her after helping her come to terms with it.

Lexie had invited me to spend the summer on her family farm. Jess and I had only just started dating, and she wasn't ready to introduce me to her family. Jess was spending a month in the Hamptons with her family, a tradition she wasn't allowed to break, then she was taking a summer internship.

I planned to stick around Stanford, maybe get a summer job, but Lexie refused to let me be alone all summer.

We made a big thing of the drive to her home, made playlists, picked out places to take a break and what snacks we needed. I made Lexie leave a day later than she wanted to so I could spend more time with Jess.

The day we were to arrive at Lexie's home was her younger brother's eighteenth birthday. We got stuck on the freeway after a truck jackknifed. Knowing we wouldn't arrive until after the start of the party, Lexie convinced some old couple in an RV to let us use their shower while we waited for the truck to be cleared.

I still remember how bold and confident she was approaching the couple with her sincere, charming smile. It still makes me smile when I think of it.

We got to our destination about three hours into the party, and it was just a sea of blue flashing lights with body bags lining the sidewalk. The looks on everyone's faces were all I needed to see to know it was seriously bad.

Lexie's entire family had been slaughtered; Mother, Father, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, family friends. Everyone she has ever cared about had been killed.

Lexie and I spent a couple of weeks sorting everything out, getting all her family's affairs in order. The insurance companies and real estate agents found it difficult to deal with Lexie, not knowing what to say to someone who had lost so much, so they made sure to finalize deals and exchange monies as quickly as possible.

Understandably, after that, Lexie couldn't stand to be in her hometown anymore, so we hit the road. We spent the summer visiting the most obscure places we could find on the map, eating way too much food, and drinking way too much.

After the summer break, we went back to Stanford, and Lexie seemed to fall back into her routine; she was coping. I never understood how, but that was just how she was. Strong-willed, proud, confident, bold, and stupidly stubborn sometimes.

Two months after being back at school she took off in the middle of the night. No warning, nothing, she just left. She called me four months later and told me she had decided to go see the world with the money she inherited. That's where she's been since then, seeing the world, as far as I knew.

Dean asks, "they ever find out what happened to her family?"

I shake my head sombrely. "They had no clue, said it could have been some drifter passing through town or maybe someone with a grudge, but they had no leads. It's still unsolved."

Lexie POV.

I can hear voices, though I'm not sure if I'm dreaming because one voice sounds like Sam Winchester. The other voice is gruff and deep, with a hint of annoyance and impatience. In my hazy mist of sleep, I can't focus on the words.

My head throbs, and then I know I'm not dreaming because nothing hurts like that in a dream. I try to speak, but only a dry groan escapes my chapped lips. I lift my hand to wipe my sleep-crusted eyes, but before my hand reaches my face, it's engulfed by the warmth of someone else's.

My eyes fly open, and I have to blink rapidly from the assault of the bright, white, fluorescent hospital lights. Now I remember what happened; I took out a nest of vampires. I thought I got them all, then lights out.

It takes a second for the face that looms over to come into focus in my watery eyes.

"Sam?" I question not quite believing the blurry image.

"Hey, nerd," he says softly, smiling down at me, his brown locks falling into his face.

I feel the stupid grin pull on my lips. "Hey, dork."

Sam helps me sit up in the bed, readjusting the pillows to make me more comfortable. The movement is hard work, and I sit panting for a minute under the watchful eye of Sam and the handsome, tall stranger standing at the end of my bed.

I know from the pain shooting through me I have at least one broken rib; I got off lightly, I guess. I wonder how many times I can break my ribs before they no longer heal properly. Sam asks me if I want him to get a doctor, but I decline, asking for a drink instead.

He hands me a glass of water with a straw, and as I greedily gulp it down, he introduces the green-eyed stranger as his brother, Dean.

I smile cheerfully. "Nice to finally put a face to the name, Dean."

Dean returns my smile with a curt nod. "You too, Digital Girl."

Sam puffs out a laugh, and I look to him for further explanation. "I'll explain later," he promises, sitting on the edge of my bed. His expression turns serious, and I know what's coming before he states, "right now, you have some explaining to do."

I try to look confused, give myself a minute to think of a plausible lie. My eyes flit from Sam to Dean. It's Dean who speaks. "Don't give us any bullshit, sweetheart." His tone is a warning, but his eyes are playful. "I already found your weapon collection."

I heave in a breath. "I took out a nest of vamps. I thought I got them all, but obviously not. This was payback," I explain, pointing at my bruised face.

"So you are a hunter?" Sam's voice is thick with hurt, and I hate the fact that I did that. I've lied to him, kept a secret from him, even after he trusted me with his. "Why didn't you tell me? After I told you the truth about me?"

That's a question I can answer with utmost certainty. I know precisely why I lied to him. "Because you're you, Sam," I tell him point-blank. "If I'd have told you I was hunting for the vampire that killed my family, you'd have dropped everything to help me."

Sam opens his mouth to protest, to argue with me when Dean speaks up first, shrugging. "She has a point, dude."

Sam fixes his face into that serious flat expression I've come to know so well and missed more than I realized. He knows he can't argue because he would have done exactly what I said. "Well, now I know, so it's time to come clean. How did you find out it was vampires that killed your family?"

I didn't want to do this now, or maybe ever. Sam won't let it go, though. I talk quietly, keeping my tone flat. "The day I disappeared from school. I received a video."

The images in my mind are so vile and fresh I feel like I'm going to vomit. The last thing I want to do is relive it. Talking about it makes the movie play in my head like a bad dream. Only I know it's not.

"Video?" Dean questions when I don't continue after a few minutes of silence.

"It was a video of the two-and-a-half-hour ordeal my family went through." My eyes blur from the tears, and Sam puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Zak, my high school sweetheart, was the culprit. He made sure they knew it was all because of me and made them sign a thank you card."

Neither one of the brothers talk. I guess they don't know what to say. Who would in this situation?

I snap the images out of my head with a shake of my head and continue; the sooner I get to the end, the sooner I can try to forget it again. "Zak was weird in the video; something was off. He was super strong, mouth full of sharp teeth. I thought it was all a camera trick at first, or the trauma of seeing it was playing tricks on me. But I did some research, spoke to some people, and found out about the real world, the supernatural. I knew I couldn't let him get away with it. I couldn't let him live and do it to someone else."

"You've been hunting him for over a year, and you never told me." It's not a question; Sam is stating a fact.

A fact that makes him angry. I've been grieving and putting myself in danger when he thought I was off living the high life, traveling the world, having fun, being a normal young adult when all this time I have been alone in my fight for vengeance.

"What about all those photos you sent me?"

I regularly sent Sam photos of my travels. Sometimes with myself in the image or just of landmarks. "Photoshop."

"And the area codes you called from?"

"Computer science major, remember?" I reply a little smugly.

Sam doesn't appreciate my attempt at humor. I have gone to a lot of trouble to make my world travels a believable lie. He has to understand deep down that I did it to protect him. To make sure he continued his journey and didn't stop to help me like he would have done.

"I told you," he almost whispers. I think it's more him connecting the dots himself than talking to me. "I told you my secret, and you were hunting him then, and you never told me."

"I'm not going to apologize, Sam." I tell him sternly, "because I'm not sorry I left you out of my drama. You have your own shit to deal with."

"I'm not asking you to apologize," Sam tells me, taking my hands in his, "but I am asking you to let us help you now that we're here."

Refusing his help is futile; he won't let it go regardless of any valid argument I could give. But he has to understand this isn't some quick turnaround case that will be solved in a few days so he can move on to the next one. I've been chasing Zak for almost a year now, and the only time I ever came close, he almost killed me.

"This is my fight, Sam."

"Don't!" Sam interrupts my protest abruptly, "don't even try and tell me no." He can't sit still anymore, his anger and anxiety take over, and he stands twisting to glare at me. "This mission you're on is going to get you killed, or worse, turn you into something I'd have to hunt!"

The thought of being a vampire makes my stomach churn, and the idea of Sam having to kill me breaks me. Tears fall, and Sam's face dances in the water of my eyes. I take a few shallow breaths, "Sam, please, can we not do this now?"

"No, Lex, we're doing this now."

"Sam, back off," Dean steps in, seeing how upset I've become.

Sam spits at his brother, "NO DEAN, SHE NEEDS TO SEE THAT SHE CAN'T DO THIS ALONE! SHE NEEDS PROTECTION!"

"I've got protection," I tell him in an almost whisper.

"What protection?"

"Zak has the word out that I'm his," I avoid looking at either brother, opting to stare out of the only window in the room. I'm ashamed to say it, though I have no reason to be. "No one or thing can kill me; that's his job. They can do whatever they want to me as long as they don't kill me, or they will have to answer to him. I guess he must be very powerful and scary to have everyone listening to him."

"So that's why the vamps didn't bite you?" Dean concludes.

I nod ever so slightly and turn my left arm over to show them my scar—a perfectly shaped 'Z' scar on my wrist. Sam's pained hiss prompts me to elaborate. "Zak caught me about six months ago, drugged me, and kept me locked up for a few days. Did that while I was totally out of it, he told me I belonged to him, and no one else could have me. Then he sent me on my way. Said he wasn't ready to turn me. He wanted me to suffer some more first. He branded me so I wouldn't ever forget my days are numbered."

I can see Sam's blood boiling with furious anger as his cheeks flush. "So, you're saying nothing is going to kill you because of the vampire you're trying to kill?" Sam asks the question in its simplest form.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," I look out of the window again, dragging my hands down my face to wipe the tears. "Could you guys go? I'm tired."

It's not a total lie; I am tired. I want them to leave.

"We'll be back later," Sam tells me, almost whispering.

"No," I say too quickly and harshly. "I just wanna be alone. Stay at my apartment; there's no point in paying for a motel when I have a spare room."

"Lexie, I'm…" Sam starts.

"Sam, I swear if you say you're sorry-" I cut off my threat by chewing the inside of my mouth. I'm mad at him for making me relive all the painful shit I've been through. I'll get over it, but right now, I don't want to look at him. "I told you I'm tired; I just want to sleep. Please just go."

Dean pushes Sam towards the door as I slowly lower myself down the bed to get comfortable.

I wake up staring at the ceiling of the hospital room. The room is encased in darkness, and I don't know how long I've slept, but the moon is shining through the window, and it was daylight when Sam and Dean left.

I move my head slowly and find Sam across the room, his face illuminated by his computer screen in the otherwise dark room. My movement catches his eye, "Hey," he whispers, closing his laptop and coming to sit on the edge of my bed, "how're you feeling?"

"Hungry."

He chuckles, and I realize how much I've missed him. I ask him to help me sit up. My ribs are aching, and I need to change position. He aids me into an upright position and then stares at me tentatively. "I'm okay, Sam," I reassure him breathlessly, my broken ribs make the smallest of movements painful, but I need to push through it.

Sam smiles at me half-heartedly. I know I don't look good; I can see my distorted reflection in the window. I'm pale, my eyebrows are creased with pain, my face is swollen, my arms are littered with bruises, and I have a large cut on my forehead. The nurses told me a plastic surgeon had to stitch it, and they're hopeful it won't scar, but I'm not holding my breath.

Sam's concerned and weary eyes land on my scarred wrist. "Lexie, I'm sorry," Sam apologizes, unable to avert his gaze from my branded arm. "I'm sorry I pushed you earlier, sorry I made you tell me before you were ready."

I breathe in deeply, then regret it as pain shoots through me. "It's okay, Sam." I don't like seeing the guilt that's written all over his face. "I don't think I would ever have been ready to tell you," I admit sadly, "I needed the push."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you too." There's a pitiful set to his eyes as he avoids mine and instead chooses to look down at our entwined hands. "I've seen pictures of vampire victims before Lex," he confesses, "I should have known when I saw your family, I should have–"

"Sam, stop!" I interrupt firmly. I won't have him blaming himself for any part of this. "Please don't blame yourself."

Sam isn't responsible for anything that happened to me. I don't want him to feel guilty or remorseful for not knowing what had happened to my family. He was out of the life at the time.

"But I could have…"

I interrupt again, "Sam, stop." I put a gentle finger on his lips to stop another protest from escaping. "You did all that you could have done, what a good friend is supposed to do; you helped me bury my family. That summer was awful, the worst time of my life, but I got through it because of you."

He shies away from my indisputable glare. I'm telling him the truth. I thought he knew how he helped me, how I wouldn't have made it through the summer if he hadn't been by my side.

Clearly, he doesn't, so I tell him. "You helped me carry on, you were there for me when I was crippled with grief and you held my hand on the days I felt powerless to stop it. That summer, our road trip, for the most part, when I look back at it, I was happy."

Sam finds my eyes, a pinch of confusion in his brow at my confession.

"You heard me; I was happy, Sam. I'd lost everything but being with you, being stupid and reckless young adults. I found a sense of happiness I wasn't sure I'd feel for a long time. So no, dork, there's nothing else you could have done."

"But I can do more now," he pleads, puppy dog eyes in full effect. Damn him. "Please, Lex, let me and Dean help, at least let us stick around till you're fully healed."

It's a bad idea. It won't end well. But I nod, "I'd like that."

His dimpled smile is bright, and it hurts to realize how much I've missed it.

Sam POV

A few nights later.

Lexie's scream pierces my sleep. I jump from my bed, grabbing the gun from the top drawer of the nightstand, and race across the hall to her room, yelling her name in a panic.

I burst into her room, gun raised and ready to kill whatever iis drawing another scream from her. My heart shatters into a million pieces when I see her thrashing in her bed. She's dreaming; I can't kill a nightmare. I can't stop the movie playing in her mind. I can kill monsters, demons, and beasts, but the only thing I still haven't found a way to kill is nightmares. The demons and monsters in her mind are her own to battle and I feel sick because I can't help her.

I watch her eyes dart under the lids, her breathing shallow and rapid as she whimpers. She looks so small and vulnerable, and I can't watch it anymore. I put the gun on the nightstand and gently shake her shoulders, calling her name.

She jolts upright, and it takes her mind a minute to catch up with her eyes as they find mine in the darkness.

"I'm sorry," she says, running a hand over her face and pulling her knees up to her chest. "Did I wake you?"

"You scared the shit out of me," I try to make it sound light, but it doesn't.

She apologizes again. The bed dips under my weight when I sit down. "Don't be," I tell her, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Wanna talk about it?"

She shakes her head slowly, "not really."

I nodded my understanding as she lays flat again, running her hands over her face and leaving them there. I stand up, ready to let her find sleep again. I'm half turned to leave when I feel the slap of her hand around my wrist stopping me. Her grip is so tight, perhaps the remnants of adrenaline from her nightmare, it kinda hurts.

"Will you stay with me?" she asks. She winces at the sound of her own voice; she sounds pitiful and scared, but I don't care. She knows she's safe around me. I wouldn't ever judge her for needing me to stay with her. For needing me to help fight off the demons in her head.

I don't need to be asked twice. I climb onto the bed as she scoots over to give me a bit more room. She turns on her side, facing away from me. I put my hand on her hip, just so she knows I'm there while she sleeps.

She shuffles back into me, her back flat against my chest. I reposition my head so that I'm resting on her neck and she intertwines her hand in mine that hangs over her hips, then pulls it to her mouth and kisses it gently. She whispers, "Sam, please don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere."

It's a promise I will keep. I will share her bed every night she wants me to. I hope my heavy arm across her body locking her against the bed might help anchor her mind too, and the nightmares will stay away.

Part 2 - Wednesday 18th August 2021