Samnesia - Chapter 7 - Cold Shoulder

Warnings: angst, fluff, argument.

Then

"I know other people that can handle this kind of thing. They can take the case," said Sam. "They'll be fine without me. I don't have to go."

"Yes, you do," said Brooke, packing Sam's folded t-shirts into the bag that lay open on the bed. "And if you don't go, you're no longer welcome to stay here."

Sam scowled, though it went unnoticed, as she stepped into the closet. He took the t-shirts from the bag and returned them to his drawer. "I'll sleep in my car outside," he said matter-of-factly. "Makes no difference to me. But I'm not leaving you alone."

"I'm not alone!" She groaned, then murmured, "I wish," under her breath, though Sam still heard her. She gestured toward the window. "There are two cops on me at all times. My mom calls me several times a day. I swear Brett has my phone tapped, and Emily is my shadow when you're not around." She took her frustration out on the plaid shirts she'd pulled from the closet, folding them aggressively and shoving them into the bag. "I don't remember what being alone feels like."

When she turned back toward the closet, presumably to find more of Sam's clothes to abuse, he blocked her path. "So I really have outstayed my welcome?"

"Not what I'm saying."

"Kinda sounds like it is."

"Would it make you go if it was what I meant?" she teased.

He shook his head, and she rolled her eyes. He knew he was being stubborn and probably overbearing but couldn't find it in himself to care. She was potentially in danger. If his being overbearing was what kept her safe, he could live with it.

"You're being unreasonable, Sam."

"You say unreasonable. I say cautious."

"Overprotective."

He shrugged.

Brooke growled and made a move to step around him, but he caught her wrist and spun her back to him. He lowered his head and nudged her nose with his. "You're cute when you're angry."

She moved in and ghosted her lips over his. "Not gonna get me to back down with compliments and kisses," she said. She pulled away when he inched closer, and he kissed the air she had occupied seconds before.

He dropped his head, chuckling at her playing him at his own game. Though, he really did think she looked cute when she was angry. She wriggled free of his grasp and continued to the closet.

"Come here." He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet.

"Sam!" she squealed, though she made no attempt to escape. The mattress bounced when Sam dropped her onto it before he climbed over her, pinning her arms on either side of her head.

"If compliments and kisses won't make you back down, what will?" he asked, dipping to kiss her neck.

"You, agreeing to go with Dean."

"That sounds a lot like me backing down."

She sighed dreamily when he kissed the sensitive spot just below her ear lobe. He knew she loved it.

"I know what you're doing," said Brooke.

"Oh, yeah?" A soft kiss on her neck. "Tell me." A kiss under her jawline. "What am I doing?"

"Sam," she warned but pushed her hips up into him, and the admonishment lost its authority. Feeling pleased that he'd succeeded in distracting her, Sam moved from her neck to her mouth, freeing one of her hands in the process, which allowed her to fit it under his shirt and rake her nails down his back. He growled into her mouth and slipped his hand under her t-shirt to knead her breast. Brooke tugged on the hem of his shirt, trying to push it up with one hand, and Sam released her other to allow her to pull it over his head.

She used her newfound freedom to push him off her, and he landed with an oomph on the other side of the bed. "Two can play that game, Mister!" she grinned, straddling him and pinning his hands to the bed by the wrists.

Sam rose as high as he could and met her lips as she bowed to do the same. The swirl of her hips made him grow hard in his jeans. This was far preferable to fighting, and he wriggled his hands free before pushing her shirt up her back.

He pulled back to take it off, and in the same instant, the unmistakable roar of the Impala's engine could be heard through the window.

"You called Dean."

She smiled triumphantly. "I called Dean."

He dropped his hands and threw himself back to lie flat on the bed. "Seriously?" he moaned, throwing his arm over his face to hide his annoyance.

Brooke crawled off him, found his shirt on the floor, and threw it to him. "Finish packing. I'll go let your brother in."

"I never started packing," he called after her as she left the room.

Sam made it to the bottom of the stairs just as Brooke closed the door behind Dean. Sam locked eyes with Brooke as he informed him, "You wasted a trip."

Brooke rolled her eyes and walked past them, offering Dean coffee on her way into the kitchen. The brothers followed. Dean took a seat at the small table, and Sam took up the door, arms folded over his chest.

"Dean, tell her you don't need me for this job."

"Hey!" Dean objected, palms held high, "Don't pull me into your domestic dispute. This is between you two."

Sam scowled at his brother. Like Dean didn't have an opinion on it all. Why else had he come after Brooke called him?

"Sam, you've been here for weeks now. You've put your life on hold for me, and I'm not going to let you pass up on whatever the big opportunity was that Dean was talking about-"

"Dean can handle it."

"But he shouldn't have to. You're partners," she reminded him. "I get it, you have a team that you trust and rely on, but you're like me. You'd still rather do it yourself or, at the very least, oversee it. So go. I'll still be here when you get back."

Sam's patience disappeared, and his volume rose involuntarily. "Brooke, you're being stalked! Someone took photos of you in your bed."

He watched her jaw clench, and she took a calming breath before she replied, "I'm well aware of that, Sam. But whoever it is, they've all but disappeared since you moved in."

"Exactly. Me being here is a deterrent. What if they start up once I'm gone?"

She stared back at him, halfway between anger and annoyance. He'd backed her into a corner. "Fine," she huffed between clenched teeth. "If I agree to stay with my brother until you get back, will you go with Dean?"

"Fine," Sam huffed back, equally annoyed. Though he'd have preferred to be the one to stay with her, he would compromise. "But you call him right now to make arrangements, and I take you to him, or he comes to get you before I leave."

"I don't need a chaperone," she told him, though she still pulled her phone out of her back pocket and dialed her brother's number.

Now

"None of that sounds like your fault, Sam," said Brooke. "You had to get back to your life at some point." She reflected quietly for a moment. "I remember staying with my brother for a week or so, but that was because I was having my plumbing replaced. Or…was it to help with the wedding?" She shook her head. "I don't know. My memories seem fine until I try to focus on the details, and then everything just turns fuzzy. Regardless," she said, seeming to set the matter aside for the moment, "I clearly made you go."

Sam sighed heavily. "I wish I hadn't buckled. I should have fought you on it more."

"I'm stubborn. I wouldn't have given in."

"I know," he agreed, matching her fleeting smile. "But if I'd stayed, none of this would have happened. You wouldn't have forgotten me. We'd still be happily in love and everything…" Sam's words trailed off, seeing her wonderstruck expression.

Brooke's eyes pooled with tears before she could stop them. "We were in love?"

He hesitated to answer. He hadn't wanted to tell Brooke how she felt, as he wasn't sure she had been in love with him, though it had certainly seemed that way to Sam.

Eventually, he nodded. "I think it was heading that way, yeah. Neither of us had actually said the words out loud, but you left me a couple of voicemails that came close. Then all of this happened, so I never got the chance to tell you how I felt."

Her eyes dropped to her hands. "You said felt, as in past tense, but you love me, right?" she said, sounding almost apologetic, as if she wasn't sure it was fair to even ask.

Again, he wasn't sure what to say. This wasn't how he'd envisioned their first declarations, but he also realized it may be his only opportunity to ever tell her.

"You don't have to say it," she said, looking up at him again when he failed to answer. "I understand the situation is kinda screwed up, so maybe now isn't the time, but I can't imagine you'd be going to all this trouble for someone you were just casually seeing."

"Actions speak louder than words, I guess."

She smiled, and it remained when she asked, "Do you still have the voicemails?"

Sam chuckled, pulling out his phone. "Yes, although I think I've listened to them enough, I could probably recite them word for word."

Then

Sam discarded his jeans, shirt, and socks in the hallway, leaving only his boxers on, and entered the room quietly so as not to wake Brooke. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before slipping into the bed beside her. Her lips were slightly parted in sleep, and a strand of tangled hair partially covered her face. His smile grew wider the longer he stared.

The clock on the nightstand read one forty-five a.m. It was late, but he'd had to see her. It had been too long, and he couldn't wait for a reasonable hour. He would have been content to just watch her for a while, but he felt a bubble of delight rising in his chest when he thought of the sleepy groan she'd make when he kissed her forehead.

He couldn't stop himself, needing to feel the softness of her skin and wanting to drag her closer to him. He gently pushed the hair back from her face, and that's when she emitted that tired, annoyed sound of protest at being woken he'd heard so many times before. Sam chuckled, and her face broke into a smile as she shuffled herself closer to him, burying her head under his chin and kissing him lightly below his throat.

"I didn't hear you come in," she hummed.

His eyes drifted shut as her lips ghosted over his skin. "I was quiet," he whispered.

"I've missed you."

"I missed you, too, baby."

Her kisses continued up his throat, along his jaw. "You've been gone way too long this time, almost three weeks."

He rose, propping himself up on his elbow to gaze down at her, waiting for her sleep-heavy eyes to flutter open. "I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you."

"Hmmm, I like the sound of that."

A loud snore jolted Sam awake. His eyes sprang open to land on a practically comatose Dean, half hanging off the bed beside him. Any other time, he would have found Dean's drooling, smushed face comical, but he had just ruined a perfectly good dream.

It had been almost three weeks since Sam had seen Brooke, and he wasn't going to see her again anytime soon. A dream was the best he was going to get, and Dean had rudely interrupted. Sam huffed out an annoyed breath. He'd never find sleep again, and even if he did, Brooke wouldn't return to him. Maybe a run would put him in a better mood. He hoped, at least, it would be a reason to get away from Dean sawing logs.

Sam grabbed his phone off the nightside, intending to turn off the alarm that was now unnecessary. Notifications for four missed calls and three voicemails, all from Brooke, made him jump out of bed, excitedly rushing to the bathroom to listen privately. He sat on the edge of the tub and pressed play on the first message.

It started with incoherent shouting and singing before the song reached the part where the callers knew the lyrics.

"I just called to say I love you. I just called to say how much I care. I just called to say I love you, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart."

Giggling and snorts of laughter followed, then a rustle as the phone was passed over. Brooke's voice was distant but clear.

"Oh my god, you guys did not just leave that for Sam. I hate you all. I tell you I'm falling for the guy, then you call him? I swear I'm going to…oh shit, it's still on. Fuck, oh my god. Shit!"

The voicemail cut off abruptly. Sam chuckled, clicking the next message.

Voicemail two began with the din of a bar before Emily's voice broke through. "Come on, Brooke, we're doing shots!"

Brooke chuckled before calling back, "Line them up. I'll be back in a minute."

The volume of the bar slowly decreased, and Sam assumed she had gone outside to talk to him.

"Oh god, I'm gonna regret shots tomorrow…Okay. Hey, Sam. Please ignore that first message. It was the girls. They think they're funny. I'm not sure what was recorded. I'm hoping it was nothing except the awful singing." Sam could hear the nervous shake in her laugh. "If you did hear anything else, please ignore it. I wasn't calling to say I love you. Even though I guess I just said the actual words 'I love you'. But I didn't mean I love you, love you. I meant the singing…that's what I meant. And now I've said I love you like three times. Oh, Jesus. Shit!"

The voicemail ended, and Sam sat laughing as he pushed play on the third and final message.

"Hey, Sam. So, I'm slightly drunk, and my friends are total idiots. The whole love thing… I'm sorry, I –… Look, I'm not saying I'm in love with you. I'm just saying if I were going to be in love again, it would be with you. Well, obviously. It's not like I'm seeing anyone else, so how would I fall for anyone else…? Oh god, I'm fucking this up. Screw it. Sam Campbell, I'm falling for you." She paused, and her laughter made him grin. "There. I said it. I'm falling for you. I didn't think I could feel this way about someone else, but then I met you, and…and I'm enjoying the ride of falling for you… Okay, now that I've made a total fool of myself, I'm gonna hang up. If these messages don't completely freak you out, call me. I really miss you."

He didn't want to call her so early. He knew she would be sleeping off a hangover, so he sent her a message for when she woke.

Sam: You didn't freak me out. I'm enjoying the ride, too. I'll call you later.

Mood immensely improved, he changed into his running attire, snapped a picture of Dean's drooling face for ammunition should he ever need some later on, and left for his run.

Then

"Hey, Babe," Brooke said brightly, despite that she was juggling both her phone and her front door at the same time. She'd been waiting on his call with terrified anticipation since waking up to his text and remembering the night before. So, of course, she answered, even though now was not the opportune time for this conversation. She more than half hoped he wouldn't bring up her voicemails. Brooke shut the door behind her as gently as she could. "How's the job going?"

"It's…complicated, but we're handling it. I'd rather be there with you." Even over the phone, she could hear the restless worry in Sam's voice. "How's…"

"House arrest?" she said with a small laugh that was only slightly bitter as she set her keys quietly on the table in her entryway. She toed out of her shoes, too, to mask the sounds of her busying around her house, as she only had a few minutes to grab her things. Sam wouldn't like that she was there by herself, but Brett was coming to pick her right back up after he ran a quick errand, and she was confident she could avoid abduction for at least that long. She didn't need her brother's supervision to collect clean clothes. Nor did she want Sam fretting about the situation from wherever he was.

"I know you hate it," said Sam. "I hate that you've had to put your life on hold too, but I've spoken to Brett, and they're doing all they can to find out who this creep is. This is all for your safety and my sanity."

"No, you're right. I get it," she conceded with a defeated sigh. "I'm just grumpy because I lost my favorite ring at the gym earlier. I remember putting it in my locker, clear as day, but when I went to put it back on after my shower, it was just…gone. The front desk said they'd keep an eye out for it, but I'm afraid it was stolen. You'd think they could afford better locks for the fee they charge," she grumbled. There was silence on the other end of the line, and Brooke halted in her beeline for the laundry room to check that the call was still connected. "…Sam?"

"You went to the gym?" Sam asked finally, and Brooke winced. His tone hadn't exactly been accusatory, but it was definitely displeased. She sighed and rested her hip against her kitchen island, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I know what you're going to say," she headed him off, "but it's fine. Brett walks me through the doors and fetches me from inside when I'm done. There are cameras and security guards. I think someone might take notice of a strange man dragging me off the elliptical and stuffing me into a sack."

Sam laughed at that, but barely, and she could tell he was far from at ease.

"I'm safe, I promise," she told him more softly, drawing the phone closer to her lips as if it were him instead.

Eventually, she heard him sigh. "Yeah. I know. I just worry."

"I know you do, but I'm a big girl. And I have an even bigger big brother. And soon," she teased, "I'll have an absolutely enormous boyfriend around again, too." Sam's laughter was even more relaxed that time and Brooke allowed herself to smile, imagining the one that was no doubt on his face. God, she missed him. "Stop worrying about me and start worrying about wrapping up whatever business you're on so you can come back to me, okay?"

"I'm doing all I can to make that happen," he promised. "But on the subject of your enormous boyfriend returning, you wanna talk about that voicemail when I get back or now?"

Brooke groaned. Despite her best efforts at deflection, he had still brought it up. "Is it as cringe-worthy as I remember?"

Brooke heard him chuckle and begin to assure her that it wasn't that bad, but she was distracted by a noise in her entry. Scowling, she craned to look down the hall, where she could see something being unsuccessfully slipped through her letterbox, and her heart started tripping.

It wasn't the mailman. They didn't even use the letterbox. It was original to the house, which was built back in the days of doorstep milk bottle deliveries and the like. Nowadays, everyone on the block has a brick-housed box on the curb that postal workers can access from their trucks. It seemed to be an envelope, though. And whoever was trying to put it through was doing a terrible job of it.

"Sam? I've got to go," she said distractedly into her phone. She realized he'd been talking to her while she puzzled at the door and hoped he hadn't said anything that required a response.

"Brooke? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, quietly stepping over to the counter to slip a knife out of the block that sat there. "Brett's just…calling me down to dinner," she fibbed, tiptoeing down the hallway. "Talk later, okay?" She hated to lie to him, but she didn't think she could bear another back and forth about her safety. She was sick of being treated as fragile and almost hoped whoever was at the door would give her an opportunity to prove otherwise.

Sam reluctantly murmured his goodbyes, and Brooke ended the call, setting her phone beside her keys to creep forward and look through her peephole. She couldn't see whoever it was, as they seemed to be stooped, still trying to force a now crumpled envelope through the creaky old slot.

Brooke tightened her grip on her kitchen knife and wrenched her door open. The man on the other side startled and nearly fell ass-first onto her porch, only catching himself at the last moment, envelope still in hand. He seemed familiar, but Brooke was having a hard time placing him. Regardless, he had no business there, and Brooke's heart began to race.

Opening the door had been foolish. Brooke's frustration had made her reckless, but she could still slam the thing shut if she needed to, she reckoned. She glanced nervously up and down the street, looking for her brother's cruiser, knuckles white around the weapon in her hand.

"Who the hell are you, and what the hell are you putting through my door?" she demanded, brandishing her knife. The stranger flinched and held up his hands in surrender.

"It's me. Tommy?" he stammered. "I…I found your ring," he rushed to explain, offering her the envelope while trying to stay out of reach of her swing.

Brooke narrowed her eyes at him but snatched the envelope from him nonetheless. She remembered him now, and the memory was not a good one. How the hell did he know where she lived? How did he know she'd lost a ring? How did he get it? Was he her stalker?

She fully intended to get answers from him, but first, she tore open the envelope, too relieved by the possibility of having her ring back. Brett had given it to her on her twenty-first birthday, and she'd worn it every day since. She'd get to the bottom of all this once it was on her finger. With any luck, Brett would pull up any second now to take the bastard into custody.

Tommy said not a word as she fished the jewelry out of the torn paper, staring at it for only a moment before slipping it on and turning her attention, and the point of her knife, back in his direction. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Brooke frowned and blinked at the man cowering on her porch.

What was she doing? Her mind was…cloudy. Why was it so hard to think all of a sudden? Brooke let her knife fall and looked down at the ring on her hand, struggling to focus on it as her vision swam. She reached to steady herself in the doorway, and when the world finally stopped spinning, she looked back up and saw Tommy standing in front of her. He seemed apprehensive for some reason. It was so unlike him. He looked from her hand to her face and back again before heaving a sigh of relief. Then, she saw his usual confidence return, and he straightened, smoothing his jacket and giving her a wide smile.

Brooke returned it.

"Hey, Babe!" she greeted him brightly, stepping aside to allow him inside.

Then

Sam sat on his bed, staring down at his boots. The phone in his hand had become his enemy. He couldn't will himself to call her. He couldn't handle hearing her cheery voicemail again, not with the knowledge she wouldn't call him back.

The job had been long and messy. A nest of vampires had left a trail of bodies across three states, and it seemed they had a bone to pick with Sam and Dean specifically. Their closest friends were well-protected and capable enough, but the nest had targeted a number of their acquaintances, mostly hunters that were still fairly green that Sam and Dean had helped out recently. Sam knew it was a foolish thought, but as the chase dragged on, it almost felt as if the whole point was to keep him away from Brooke for as long as possible.

It had been one month and four days since he'd seen her. Two weeks and six days since he'd spoken to her. They'd phoned every day for the first two weeks, and then there had been one distracted chat after that voicemail, and then…nothing.

At first, he had thought it was embarrassment making her ditch his calls. He sent her texts and left voicemails to assure her she had nothing to be embarrassed about, but he never received a response. He had listened to the messages numerous times to hear her voice and to make sure he hadn't mistaken the sincerity of her words. He was certain he hadn't. So all the calls that went unanswered, all his messages that were 'delivered' but never read or replied to, made no sense.

After almost three days of radio silence, Sam had sent Garth to check on her. He didn't want Garth to talk to her, simply observe from a distance to ensure she was okay. Sam hoped that someone in her family would have called him if something had happened to her, but he wanted to know for sure. Garth video-called Sam with a broad smile and the news that his 'beautiful lady friend' was doing just fine. He had snapped a few photos as evidence.

Sam had gazed at the candid shot of a happy, carefree Brooke sitting beside Emily on a park bench, laughing with a popsicle partway to her mouth on a bright summer day more times than he could count. He was surprised the image hadn't been permanently burnt into his phone screen. He didn't understand what he had done to receive the cold shoulder. He had explained that he wouldn't be able to see her for a while, and she had been more than understanding. She had been the one who insisted he go. Fought him on it pretty hard, actually, so what could have possibly changed?

"Go see her." Dean's voice brought him out of his thoughts. Sam raised his head as Dean's voice grew closer. "She owes you an explanation at least," he concluded, handing his younger brother an open beer.

Sam scoffed, "And what if I don't like that explanation?"

"At least you'll know for sure instead of moping around here like someone stole your puppy."

"I'm not moping."

"Dude, we've been home four days. The last couple of times we went out on a case, you switched cars in the garage and didn't even come inside because you were so eager to see her. We've had a rough couple of weeks, but we won. Go celebrate with your girl."

"That's just it. I don't think she's my girl anymore."

"Only one way to find out."

Sam didn't move except to take a long pull on his beer and sigh deeply.

"Dude, seriously. Go! Now. Or I'll go see her for you," Dean threatened.

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes, taking another sip.

Dean cocked his eyebrow in challenge. "Fine, have it your way," he said, turning to leave the room. He slowed his pace as he walked out to make sure Sam heard him add, "but just think of all the embarrassing stories I can tell her."

Sam stood up and smiled half-heartedly. "Okay, fine."

Dean's head appeared around the door frame.

"You win! I'm going."

He finished his beer with one large gulp and grabbed his jacket on his way out.

Chapter 8 - Poker Face - Wednesday 26th October 2022

A/N: I hope you are enjoying this so far. There's only 3 chapters to go:

Chapter 8 - Poker Face - Wednesday 26th October 2022

Chapter 9 - Misplaced Intentions - Friday 28th October

Chapter 10 - Magical - Sunday 30th October

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