Title: "Fell in Love with a Girl"
Author: Lila
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: Sam, Dean/OFC
Spoiler: "Provenance"
Length: Part III: B of IV
Summary: When Dean falls in love, Sam gets a life.
Disclaimer: I own only Lily. If you'd like to borrow her, let me know and we'll negotiate.
Author's Note: Part III (b) of my four part series. Apologies for the late arrival, but grad school is kicking my ass and leaving me barely any time to eat and sleep let alone write fanfic, but I got it done! Thank you for all the support so far, and as always, I hope you enjoy.
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"Can't keep away from the girl…"
A month passes and July lands upon you sticky and heavy, and you fall into a routine, hunting whatever comes along your way with your brother at your side and Lily at your back. Dean doesn't banish her to the car again, because he knows she'll just follow you anyway and it's smarter and safer and easier when he can keep an eye on her. She's scrappy and tough, but she's not perfect. The first time she fires the shotgun the reverb sends her flying backwards into a wall, knocks out her shoulder, and slices a three inch gash in the back of her skull in one fell swoop. She never complains, even as blood drips down her neck and Dean turns white as a sheet, and she apologizes with a sheepish smile, all awhile making sure you bagged the poltergeist before stitching up the nasty cut.
"Right, Lil," Dean says and gestures for you to raise the flashlight another inch while he crudely winds black thread through the skin of her skull. "Cause it's so important that we nail that son of a bitch while your brains are spilling out of the back of your head." He pulls the thread extra tight and her head snaps back, and she clenches her jaw against the tears threatening to spill. She winces, loudly, and he apologizes, but you still make him change places when his hands start shaking.
"Here, I'll do it," you say and gently slip the needle and thread from between his fingers. It's slippery between yours and your fingers are slick and stained red with blood, but you ignore it and twine your other hand through the silky mess of her hair. The flashlight is wobbling in Dean's hand, and he's gripping Lily's with his other, and you notice it's his knuckles turning white as you put her back together.
You push her hair aside and study the cut while you work the needle. You suck in a breath of relief that the gash is ugly, but it's stopped bleeding and her life isn't slipping away with each pulsing beat of her heart, the way you watched Jess' blood slowly seep out of her right before she burst into flames.
Dean whispers, so quiet you wouldn't have heard him if he weren't standing right next to you, "What would I do without you?"
She smiles through the pain, grits her teeth when you pull a little too hard. "Crash and burn."
You grit your own teeth, try to concentrate. "What would I do without you?" you'd asked Jess.
"Crash and burn," she'd laughed and kissed you so hard you'd forgotten how to breathe.
If Jess taught you anything, it's that nothing lasts forever. You can do this, save Lily the way you couldn't save Jess, but for how long? Dean seems to be thinking the same thing, and it's only when you put down the needle that he remembers to breathe.
You tie off the thread with a neat knot, and ignore the rusty stains covering your hands. You can bear it because it means Lily will live. She smoothes her hair down over the cut and it stings, but she smiles through. "See," she says to Dean and flexes her fingers, tries to get some feeling back in them. "I'm fine." He isn't say anything, is barely even looking at her, so she clasps his chin between her own bloody fingers and makes him look her dead in the eye. "Dean, I'm going to be okay."
"You better be," he whispers and learns in to kiss her, the bloody fingerprints on his chin smearing across her skin. It should be gross and you should be gagging, but it's oddly beautiful, because even covered in blood and gore they're still breathing, still alive, still have each other.
It's more than you think you'll ever have.
---
For the life of you, you can't understand how or why Dean and Lily are together. You'd say it's for the sex, except you sleep in the same room as them every night and it's a rare occasion when you wander home after a research session and there's a sock clinging to the doorknob of your motel room. And you can't say it's for the conversation, because they have nothing in common. Like absolutely nothing in common. Not even the same taste in music. Aside from her Springsteen obsession, Lily leans towards the indie rock persuasion that makes Dean retch, and she has a minimal tolerance for the classic rock he favors.
She picked up a CD adapter at a Walmart back in Nebraska and figured out a way to hook it up to the Impala's dying radio. Dean still insists that driver has song choice, but you and Lily snuck out early one morning and you taught her to drive stick, and Dean occasionally surrenders control of the music rather than let her touch his baby. She's in the backseat on the long road through New Mexico, mending a rip in his shirt, and he's rejected the album she wants to hear. "C'mon, Dean," she whines. "Just give it a chance."
"Sorry, babe, but I am not listening to music by a band named after something I eat with." He turns the radio up, and "Carry On My Wayward Son" blares through the car. You try to tune it out. You hear Jess' voice enough when you're dreaming – you don't want to hear about someone else's.
Unfortunately, Lily won't let up. "Uh huh," she continues. "And it's so much cooler to listen to a band named after a state."
"Hey!" Dean exclaims. "Sammy and I were born there." He looks to you for support, and as usual you don't want to involve yourself in another of their arguments, but you can't take the song any longer either.
"I'm with Lily," you say and you know Dean's eyes are narrowing even though you're not looking at him. "We need some diversity, man."
You catch her look in the rearview mirror, and she's doing that puppy dog thing with her eyes that Jess had perfected, simultaneously pleading and letting you know that if you don't give in you won't get laid again. Or for a week. But really, is there a difference? Dean sighs and Lily leans forward to kiss his cheek and mumbles something about compromising as she pushes the tape into the CD player and the song clicks on.
It's something you've never heard before and you think you like it, especially as Lily hums along under her breath and taps her fingers against her knee as she sews Dean's shirt, and you force yourself to go along with it. Anything to keep your mind off memories of Jess and death and home.
"You made me feel like the one/You made me feel like the one/The one."
Lily leans forward, hand pressing gently into your shoulder, and smiles. "Like the music, Sam?"
Your brother sends you a disgusted look, but you ignore him. " You made me feel like the one," plays in your head and Lily is leaning so close you can see the flecks of green in her blue eyes, and they shine at you warm and bright and clever. Jess' eyes. "You made me feel like the one."
You could lose yourself in those eyes, like you lost yourself in Jess – for that year and half, you weren't afraid of the dark. You can't help but smile back as Lily's eyes crinkle and she sings along, badly, and the memories of Jess and death and home disappear into the depths of her eyes.
---
Two months on the road, and you still don't understand why Dean and Lily are together. You and she spend the long hours between jobs discussing books and movies and politics and everything in between, and Dean stays focused on the road and avoids talking about real life. Lily buys a copy of the New York Times, the USA Today if she's really desperate, and she reads up on what's going on in the world around you while Dean trains his eyes for blood and guts and unexplained deaths. She wants to save the world; Dean just wants to save you two.
You mostly shower at night, because Dean and Lily monopolize the bathroom in the morning, and when you emerge one evening she's propped up in bed reading with her glasses perched on the end of her nose and a pen clasped between the fingers of her right hand. She's wearing one of Dean's t-shirts, the gray one this time, and her forehead crinkles from time to time as she reads a particularly interesting passage.
When you and Jess first moved in together she'd swipe your tees and curl up in your bed with her psych reading, clasping a pen between her teeth and her forehead crinkling as she underlined a particularly interesting passage. Except you never sat beside her sharpening knives, even if Lily doesn't seem to notice the hissing metal every time Dean strikes the flint.
You climb into your own bed and pick up your copy of Crime and Punishment. You were hoping it would teach you a lesson, but it's mostly convinced you there's too much evil in the world of the human variety. Lily glances up from her book and her forehead crinkles in a totally different way. "Heavy reading, Sammy" she teases.
You glance at her incredulously. "It's summer vacation, Lily, and you're taking notes," you point out and she defiantly pushes her glasses further up her nose.
"I'm a teacher," she reminds you and makes a jabbing motion with her pen. "Gotta keep my skills sharp."
Dean finally looks up and tucks the knife under his pillow for the night. "You're both dorks and need to get out more." He leans over and kisses Lily's temple. "Lil, I'm out." He drapes an arm over her waist and pulls the covers up over his chest, trapping Lily in place. With Dean holding her so close, she can't even kiss you goodnight. He's out in a second flat and a spear of jealousy shoots its way through your gut. It's not a foreign feeling, but familiarity doesn't make it feel any better. You tell yourself it's that he can fall asleep so easily when every time you close your eyes you hear Jess' voice, "Why Sam? Why? Why? Why?" You ignore the part where he has Lily in his bed and you're sleeping alone.
Her light is still burning and she smiles at you sheepishly as she holds up her book and reveals that she's reading Crime and Punishment too. "Peas in a pod, huh?" She turns off the light and you listen to the rustle of sheets as she snuggles into the cradle of your brother's arms.
You're not tired and you're nothing close to ready to face Jess in your dreams, but you can't bear to watch them so you turn off your own light. You close your eyes but it's not Jess' face you see or her voice you hear. Lily is standing on the street corner and she's wearing a long white dress, straight red hair ruffled by the breeze. She reaches out and takes your hand in hers, presses it against her heart. "Peas in a pod, huh?" she asks and you feel her heartbeat beneath your palm, constant and steady and alive.
In your dream, Dean isn't there, he doesn't even exist. "Yeah," you say. "Peas in a pod."
---
They have their first fight, their first real fight, on the road back east. It starts with Cassie – not about her per say – but it starts with her all the same.
You're crashing in Phoenix after nabbing a freaky sand creature out in the desert, and Lily insists on a night out. Dean suggests a private hotel room instead, but she stares him down and reminds him that he encouraged her to "get out more." He's disappointed about the hotel room, but okay with getting her out of the baggy jeans and t-shirts she's been living in for the last month, particularly when she takes about three hours to get ready and emerges from the bathroom in a skirt that shows off her long, long legs and wearing more make up than you've ever seen her wear.
You pick a local place with a good jukebox – your kind of music – and a pool table, and you listen to Lily grumble about her appearance while Dean waits at the bar. "Are you sure I don't look like a drag queen?" she whines and bats heavily mascaraed eyes in your direction. "I feel like if I smile, my face will crack."
"You look beautiful," you assure her, and she does. She looks relaxed, happy, her face frozen in that same blissful look Dean's been wearing for the last month. You force the smile onto your own face because you know how much this night means to her, the three of you doing something "normal" after almost losing your lives saving other peoples', and them never knowing.
She beams at you, but her eyes are distant and unfocused and while she's technically looking at you, you don't think she's seeing you, not really, not with Dean in her sightline. His back is too you and he's pulling his wallet out to pay for a round of shots you had both declined when a dark-haired woman taps him on the shoulder. You know, before he turns and recognition passes across his face, that it's Cassie, and before he has a chance to even say hello she's on him, arms wrapped around his head and body pressed against his like a second skin. Lily stiffens beside you and the smile disappears from her face, even as Dean immediately pushes Cassie away and pulls back when she goes for him again.
You've never seen Lily act anything but the Alpha female, so you're surprised when she remains rooted to the ground and clutches her sweating beer, taking deep breaths as Dean gestures wildly and Cassie's expression falls when it locks on her. "She's pretty," Lily says, and her voice is small and detached, pained. She traces a bead of moisture on her glass and bites her lip. "She's really, really pretty." She isn't looking at Dean, isn't even looking at you, just keeps playing with the water running down the sides of her glass. Her posture slumps and you're suddenly aware of how much she doesn't look like herself. "Dean loved her, didn't he?" she asks.
You can lie, easily lie, because you never actually heard him say the words, but this is Lily, your Lily, and you can't lie to her, even if you know it will hurt her. "Yeah, I think so. But that was a long time ago."
You're not sure she's really listening, because she's still playing with the beer glass and still refuses to look at you. Still, you regret telling her the truth. "Do you think he's happy?" she asks out of nowhere and your head snaps up.
"What?"
"Do you think he's happy?" she asks again and you can barely hear her voice over the noise in the bar. "I nag him all the time, I make him listen to music he hates…do you think he'd rather have someone like her, someone beautiful, someone who isn't complicated?"
You laugh, because she's being ridiculous. She's Lily, and she's not pretty, but she's beautiful and brilliant in all the ways that matter. "Lily, what are you talking about?" you ask because you can't believe what you're hearing. You and Dean spend the hours between states counting license plates and complaining about the music, and she sprawls in the backseat repairing seams in ripped shirts and molding rock salt into bullets and blessing discarded bottles of Desani, and she thinks there's something wrong with her? Thoughts of Jess barely cross your mind when you tell her she's the most perfect woman alive.
"I'm not perfect," she says and her voice is low, but adamant "No one is perfect."
You still don't know what she's talking about, but Dean is heading towards you looking guilty and worried while Lily continues to have her meltdown. Still, the smile is back on her face when he shows up, apologizing profusely and insisting that Cassie kissed him and not visa versa. Lily smiles her serene smile and tells him that it's okay, that she saw the entire thing and that it wasn't his fault, but when she kisses him it's hard and angry, desperate, and unlike any kiss you've seen them share.
Dean has trouble breathing when she pulls back, and not in a good way. "Lil, are you okay?" he asks. "Baby, I didn't meant for it to happen, but she – "
"Shhh," she says and her voice is normal again, calm and gentle to your ear. "No one is perfect."
You don't trust her smile as she leans in and kisses him again, and you want to tell her that it doesn't matter if she isn't pretty, or nags about the toilet seat, or listens to emo music that makes Dean's ears bleed. You want to tell her that for you, she is perfect, that everything about her is perfect, that she's perfect in ways Jess never could be. You want to tell her so many things, but instead you watch, like you always do, as she kisses your brother and loses herself in him, and forgets you're even alive.
---
Three days later you're heading through Oklahoma when the shit hits the fan. You find mentions of bodies torn to shreds in a bumblefuck town out in the backwoods, and while you first fear werewolves, it turns out to be a pack of hellhounds. You track down one of them and Lily holds her own for the most part, until it pins her flat on her back and is prepped to rip the skin off her face when Dean nails it with a silver bullet and it nearly crushes her when it collapses on top of her. When you and Dean hunt the rest of the pack that night, he banishes her to the motel room for safekeeping and she loses it.
You sit on the curb outside the room and look for a shooting star, but there's none to be had. You can hear them arguing inside and being a man, and worse, a Winchester, Dean manages to bring up Cassie at the exact wrong time. "Is this about Cassie?" you hear him ask, and you wince because it just sets Lily off more. "Cause I already told you, she kissed me."
"No, this isn't about Cassie! I'm over Cassie. I told you I'm over Cassie, and I meant it. But if you still think I'm this pissed because I'm hung up on your hoochie ex throwing herself all over you, than we have nothing to talk about!"
The door slams shut and she plops beside you on the curb, her chest heaving slightly under her t-shirt. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are flashing and you've never seen her more beautiful, more alive.
"Sammy," she asks. "Why are men so dense?" She scoots closer to you, so her shoulder presses against yours, and you can feel the heat of her through the thin cotton.
Again, an incredulous look. "You're asking me?"
She tilts her head to look up at you and it's too dark to see the flecks of green in her eyes, but you can see the stars reflected there and you stare at them, waiting to make your wish. "You're Sammy," she says. "You're different."
You want to tell her all the ways you are different, all the ways she's different in the same ways you're different, but instead you defend Dean, because he's your brother and you love him and that's what good brothers do. And you want to be a good brother, you really do, even with Lily pressed up against your side, keeping you warm. "He's just worried about you, Lily. We both were. If we'd lost you…"
You trail off because you don't want to think about losing her, about what your life would be like without her in it. You already lost Jess, lost your mother – you can't lose her too. "I'm not going anywhere," she assures you. "You and Dean, you look out for me. Even when that thing had me on the ground and I thought I was going to lose my face, I wasn't afraid, because I knew you guys would have my back. You're Winchesters. You save people. Especially me."
She rests her head on your shoulder and turns up her chin to watch the stars. You close your eyes and forget about making a wish, because for a moment, just half a moment, it's like Jess is back and you're curled up together on your porch in Palo Alto and you're watching a meteor shower rain down around you and you wished that you could make the moment last forever. With Lily beside you, you think it might.
Her chin is poking your shoulder so you slip your hand through her hair to adjust her head and the pads of your fingers catch on the raised line of scars on her scalp, a badge of honor, her refusal to die. Jess faced a demon and went up in a puff of smoke; Lily faces them every day and she still lives. You can't go through the pain of losing another person you love, but with Lily, you don't think it will be a problem.
"Lily," you say, and she stirs beside you, the bare skin of her forearm rubbing soft and burning against yours. "You're welcome."
She lifts her head to smile at you and you have to do it. You just have to, because she's not like Jess. She's better than Jess. She won't die like Jess did.
She's quicker than you and she catches your face between her palms before you can follow through, your pulse beating hard and erratic in your temples. All you can focus on is the lush line of her mouth and the wide, terrified look in her eyes and all the blood rushes into your eyes as you realize what you almost did. "Sam," she whispers, still clasping your face between her hands. "No."
"Oh, god," you whisper, and it's all you can say. "Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. What have I done?"
She lets you go and you drop your face into your hands, and all you can hear is her ragged breathing. You don't know how long it takes, because it's like time is standing still around you, but she picks herself up and lifts your hands away from your burning cheeks. This time, when her palms cradle your face, they're cool and comforting, like a mother's kiss on your brown. "You know I'm not her, right?" she asks and her voice is calm, gentle, maternal, the Lily you first met. "Sam, look at me," she insists and you open your eyes and look right into hers. The stars are gone, but she's so close you can see the green flecks – Jess' eyes. "You know I'm not her," she repeats herself. "I'm not her. Even if I weren't with Dean, and I was with you, I still wouldn't be her. I'll never be her. Do you understand?"
"I just thought…" you start, but you can't finish the sentence. You can't tell her how you really feel – you won't open that can of worms.
She's still cupping your cheeks in her palms, holding you up. "Sam, she's gone. You know that, and as much as you want her back, you know it can't happen. I know you know that."
You blink, and you can still see the green flecks in her eyes, but they're not Jess'. They're turned up more at the corners and her skin is too pale, the cheekbones too high, and you don't recognize the spattering of freckles across her nose. "It's not fair," you whisper and it hurts, a piercing, aching pull in your gut, but you keep going. You need to keep going. "Dean left you," you hiss, and you ignore the anger in your voice, how much you're lashing out. "He left you behind, and you still came back. He never even looked for you, Lily. He was never going to look for you, and you came back. You won't leave. You'll never leave." You jerk your head up and look into her eyes and you know yours are flashing and furious, but she doesn't look away, and tilts her chin up bravely to hold steady. "I would have never left Jess, and she's dead. She's never coming back. Why does he get to keep you?"
"Life isn't fair, Sammy." She pauses, looks at you and you think she'll say something to change your life. "If god were an equal opportunity player, he'd have given me boobs."
You laugh. You can't help it. Her expression is so earnest and her eyes are so warm and she's diffused the moment so perfectly, you can't do anything else. It rumbles deep in your chest, bubbles up through your throat and explodes in a sound you haven't heard since Jess was alive. You laugh and you laugh and then you cry, but this time it's not the grief speaking. It's the hope. "Somehow, Lily, I don't think a push up bra will fix me."
Her expression changes, and the smile is still there, but her eyes are serious. "Neither can I." She takes your hand in hers and squeezes tight, so tight, so you know she's there. "We're going to get through this, Sammy. I promise we will."
You squeeze back and wipe the tears from your eyes with your free hand, and when you look at her again she doesn't look like Jess. She doesn't look like anyone but herself – she doesn't look like anyone but Lily. "I'm sorry," you say and she just laughs, tosses her hair over her shoulder.
"What can I say? I'm irresistible." She nudges you in the ribs and smiles deviously. "And apparently kryptonite to the Brothers Winchester." Again, the smile disappears and she does that thing like she's looking at you like she's looking through you. "I forgive you, Sammy." She squeezes your hand extra hard. "I know she does too. Now you just have to forgive yourself."
You lean in again and she stiffens for a moment, but you simply drop a gentle kiss on her cheek and smile like you mean it. "Thank you."
Her nails dig into your palm and she points her other hand towards the sky. "Look, a shooting star!" she exclaims and you watch in awe as a star finally slips through the sky, a path of glittering hope trailing behind. "Make a wish, Sammy. It's good luck."
The door opens and you both jump as Dean steps out, looking pathetic and miserable and very apologetic. He sits behind Lily, his long legs stretching out next to hers, and you note the perfect way the top of her head fits under his chin and her back settles against his chest. "Peas in a pod," you mumble under your breath and Lily squeezes your hand once more, because you finally got it right.
She rarely talks about the reason she left home, about the student who died under her watch, and Dean has mentioned your mother only once during your months together, but you know that's what draws her to him and him to her, a mutual desire to serve and protect and keep the innocent safe – because they want to save something beside themselves.
"I'm sorry," you hear Dean say into her hair and she reaches up to cup his jaw with her free hand, turns her face to kiss his chin. "I just got scared. If something happened to you…"
"If there's no fear, where's the living?" she asks and you've heard it before, but from her you can believe it. He wraps her tighter in his arms, presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm not going anywhere, baby. Not for a long, long while."
You want to give them a moment of privacy, but she won't let go of your hand, and barely releases you when Dean tugs on her arm and says it's time to call it a night. You give them some time alone in the room, and when you open the door they're curled up in their bed and yours is empty and waiting for you. You drag out the process of brushing your teeth and shedding your clothes, anything to keep you out of that solitary bed.
You're about to slip inside it when Lily reaches out in the dark, her fingers locking on your wrist like a lifeline. "Sammy, come here." You don't know what she's talking about, but you follow her instructions, trudge your way through the dark between the beds. She pushes at Dean and both of them scoot back as she pats the spot she just vacated. "Join us."
"Lily, no. Whatever you have in mind – "
"Oh, ewww," she says and Dean laughs behind her. "Not like that! It's just that you shouldn't sleep alone tonight."
You haven't shared a bed with your brother since you were eighteen-years-old, and you've never shared a woman with him, not even your mother. You're not sure you can start now. "Lily," you start but she cuts you off.
"Sammy, it's what families do. They hold each other together when the going gets tough." You can feel her eyes seeking yours out in the dark. "And we've hit rock bottom."
You're too tired to argue, to fight, to refuse her request, but you're still shocked when it's your brother's voice that rings out clear and insistent in the dark. "Sammy, do what the lady says." You can't argue with your brother, not after all that's happened, not after all he's done for you and Lily's done for you and all they do for you together.
The bed is small and you can feel both of them pressed up against you, holding you up, Dean's fingers riding into your back where they're locked around Lily's stomach and her breath hitching against the back of your neck each time she breathes in. She kisses you there, a gentle press of a mother's kiss, and runs a hand through your hair. "Night, Sammy. Sweet dreams."
You make your wish, on the shooting star you've been waiting for all this time, because you finally have a family.
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Crib Notes: The song featured during the road trip is Stereophonic's "Dakota," from their album "Love. Sex. Violence. Other?"
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