Fic: In the Future 10/10 (SPN)
Title: In the Future, Down the Road, Into the Night, Waking Up, Walking Out, Coming Back, Moving Ahead, Marking Time, Standing Still, Going Forward 10/10
Author: Me
Spoilers: References Bloodlust
Disclaimer: Fan fic, nothing owned
Word count: 707 words
Notes: This is het, R, Sam/Lenore. Future fic.
There is much more unspoken than usual for the next few days. Sam seems lost in thoughts which generally flicker small wistful smiles across his face; Lenore frowns and frets, impatient and on edge as she tries - and fails - to read Sam's mind.
She blames all that hair. Who can get a thought through all that.
"What's my present?" she pesters like a surly six year old. "Tell me."
"You have to wait," Sam replies, blithely kissing her on the forehead or worse, much worse, ruffling her hair. She kicks him the first time; he learns to dodge each time after that.
***
Christmas Eve arrives with a violent blizzard on its heels. The tiny cabin rocks in the wind, holding fast to it's foundation. Lenore paces, caged while Sam calmly stokes the fire and throws on another layer of clothing.
"It'll be fine," he soothes, pulling her into his lap near the flickering flames. He seems to know instinctively that her anger is rooted in impotence. She fears not being able to protect him from Mother Nature, who has no interest in bargains or threats. "We'll be fine."
"We don't have enough food or blood or wood." Lenore stares at him, their eyes meeting in complete understanding of her panic.
"Believe me, it'll be fine," he responds, so calm and careful and half-smiling that she knows exactly precisely without doubt what her Christmas present is.
***
"No." It's flat and simple and even now that he's presenting her with her greatest wish - his permission - she can't accept. "You'll resent me someday."
"Probably. And then the next day we'll make up like always," Sam answers, his lips faintly blue in the frigidness of the cabin. The wood is running out, the furniture counting its last minutes on this earth before becoming so much ash and warmth. "Making up is fun remember? We like being angry at each other," he teases.
"You have - there are people..." Lenore's voice trails off as pain and amusement bloom in Sam's eyes.
"I have people waiting for me in heaven? C'mon Lenore, who the fuck are you talkin' to? You think I'm bettin' on that? No, I think I outgrew that fairy tale about twenty years ago. There aren't any guarantees..." His words trail off; he shrugs in the cocoon of blankets he's wrapped in.
And with that he punctures her balloon, her last vestige of honor when it comes to taking what she desperately wants.
"I have to think," she murmurs. She goes to sit on the bed, her back to where Sam is on the sofa. It's the closest thing to privacy she can get at the moment.
***
Time passes without her notice. She doesn't stir from her memories until she hears Sam's faint cough from the other room.
"Are you all right?" Lenore calls, her voice tense and cutting through the nearly liquid air.
"Not really. You better finish broodin' and get over here."
Lenore slides off the bed and walks back to the couch. The tiny side table is gone, so are two of the kitchen chairs, broken into thick chunks and smoldering in the hearth. She can't really tell if it's warm enough in her for a human but Sam's expression isn't giving her a ton of assurance it is.
"You planned this."
"Yes, yes I did. The blizzard? Totally my doin'." He tilts his head, beckons her closer.
"You don't know what you're doing Sam. You don't understand - " She breaks off, giving him respect instead of platitudes. To tell him he didn't understand pain was just...cruel. "You don't know how it is to be what I am."
"Now c'mon, not like your life sucks all that bad."
"Poor joke."
"No sense of damn humor. C'mere."
***
When the fire goes out, Sam doesn't move to break up another piece of furniture. He curls closer to Lenore, quiet and thoughtful. She can hear his heart beating and thinks as she presses her mouth to his neck that she is going to miss that most of all.
Author: Me
Spoilers: References Bloodlust
Disclaimer: Fan fic, nothing owned
Word count: 707 words
Notes: This is het, R, Sam/Lenore. Future fic.
There is much more unspoken than usual for the next few days. Sam seems lost in thoughts which generally flicker small wistful smiles across his face; Lenore frowns and frets, impatient and on edge as she tries - and fails - to read Sam's mind.
She blames all that hair. Who can get a thought through all that.
"What's my present?" she pesters like a surly six year old. "Tell me."
"You have to wait," Sam replies, blithely kissing her on the forehead or worse, much worse, ruffling her hair. She kicks him the first time; he learns to dodge each time after that.
***
Christmas Eve arrives with a violent blizzard on its heels. The tiny cabin rocks in the wind, holding fast to it's foundation. Lenore paces, caged while Sam calmly stokes the fire and throws on another layer of clothing.
"It'll be fine," he soothes, pulling her into his lap near the flickering flames. He seems to know instinctively that her anger is rooted in impotence. She fears not being able to protect him from Mother Nature, who has no interest in bargains or threats. "We'll be fine."
"We don't have enough food or blood or wood." Lenore stares at him, their eyes meeting in complete understanding of her panic.
"Believe me, it'll be fine," he responds, so calm and careful and half-smiling that she knows exactly precisely without doubt what her Christmas present is.
***
"No." It's flat and simple and even now that he's presenting her with her greatest wish - his permission - she can't accept. "You'll resent me someday."
"Probably. And then the next day we'll make up like always," Sam answers, his lips faintly blue in the frigidness of the cabin. The wood is running out, the furniture counting its last minutes on this earth before becoming so much ash and warmth. "Making up is fun remember? We like being angry at each other," he teases.
"You have - there are people..." Lenore's voice trails off as pain and amusement bloom in Sam's eyes.
"I have people waiting for me in heaven? C'mon Lenore, who the fuck are you talkin' to? You think I'm bettin' on that? No, I think I outgrew that fairy tale about twenty years ago. There aren't any guarantees..." His words trail off; he shrugs in the cocoon of blankets he's wrapped in.
And with that he punctures her balloon, her last vestige of honor when it comes to taking what she desperately wants.
"I have to think," she murmurs. She goes to sit on the bed, her back to where Sam is on the sofa. It's the closest thing to privacy she can get at the moment.
***
Time passes without her notice. She doesn't stir from her memories until she hears Sam's faint cough from the other room.
"Are you all right?" Lenore calls, her voice tense and cutting through the nearly liquid air.
"Not really. You better finish broodin' and get over here."
Lenore slides off the bed and walks back to the couch. The tiny side table is gone, so are two of the kitchen chairs, broken into thick chunks and smoldering in the hearth. She can't really tell if it's warm enough in her for a human but Sam's expression isn't giving her a ton of assurance it is.
"You planned this."
"Yes, yes I did. The blizzard? Totally my doin'." He tilts his head, beckons her closer.
"You don't know what you're doing Sam. You don't understand - " She breaks off, giving him respect instead of platitudes. To tell him he didn't understand pain was just...cruel. "You don't know how it is to be what I am."
"Now c'mon, not like your life sucks all that bad."
"Poor joke."
"No sense of damn humor. C'mere."
***
When the fire goes out, Sam doesn't move to break up another piece of furniture. He curls closer to Lenore, quiet and thoughtful. She can hear his heart beating and thinks as she presses her mouth to his neck that she is going to miss that most of all.