Chapter 3: Brown Eyed Girl
Gripping the coffee pot tighter, she steadied her hand and continued pouring.
“Isabellllla…” the voice whispered, drawing her name out in a sing-song. She flinched and hot coffee spilled out over her hand, but the pain of the burn barely registered.
“Oh dear, seems you‘ve had an accident.”
Guilt and fear manifested itself into thick tears she refused to let fall.
“Isabella…” he cooed, mock sympathy dripping from each syllable of her name.
Despite her resolve, Bella blinked and a heavy tear escaped its prison and trailed down her cheek. Setting down the coffee pot, Bella gripped the counter’s edge, her knuckles flashing white as she tried to steady her racing heart.
“Poor, sad little Isabella… Won’t you say hello?”
“You’re not real,” she whispered to herself. “You’re not real – you’re just a figment of my imagination. A product of guilt and stress.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night…” the voice – a man – taunted lightly.
“Go away,” she pleaded, another tear slipping down. “Just leave me alone.”
“Never,” he swore, the vow searing its way into her very bones. She believed him.
Her shoulders haunched as her breath hitched. “I hate you,” she hissed bitterly, the proclamation filled with venom intent to wound her invisible foe. She meant it down to her very toes.
“Bells?” a new, slightly wounded voice asked, this time coming from unbearably close behind her.
Flinching again, Bella turned and slammed her palm to her racing heart as she took in the large, looming figure of her once best friend.
“Jacob,” she gasped, trying to will her heart into submission. “I thought I told you to go home,” she snapped.
He rolled his eyes and took a step closer to her, frowning when she turned her back to him and busied herself with her coffee.
“Like I’d leave you alone after all that’s happened,” he scoffed, looking offended that she’d even suggested it. He meant the words to be reassuring but they was anything but.
Eyes tightening at the reference to recent events, Bella shot him a scathing look. “It hasn’t stopped you in the past,” she retorted, a small twinge of satisfaction resonating when he not-so subtly flinched.
“That was different, I told you,” he said, a broken record caught on a one-hit wonder.
Now she was the one rolling her eyes. There’d been a time she and Jake were thick as thieves. Not long after the Cullens departure, she’d latched onto Jake as a sunny distraction. He’d been so light and carefree – so naïve and ignorant that she couldn’t help but find it easy spending time with him. He’d been like the shallow surface of a wishing pond and she could see straight through to the bottom so had no problem casting her proverbial pennies without getting truly invested. He also had such a major crush on her that it had felt refreshing at first, like a compliment she’d never once received. For what felt like the first time ever there was someone clamoring to be in her company instead of dropping her like a bad habit. Abandoning her without so much as a goodbye.
It wasn’t the Cullens she was thinking of now.
Stubbornly pushing the thought of the brothers away, she focused instead on Jake and her never-ending problem with him. When he’d first phased he’d cut ties with her, though she’d been quick to figure out the secret and called him out on that bull shit. For a bit, things had been well enough. Most of the pack she genuinely liked and she was comfortable amongst them. She’d always felt at home around the supernatural, after all, and was exceptionally good at dealing with weird.
Then Victoria started popping up and Jake grew increasingly possessive and overprotective. Perhaps it was her fault for using him and his genuinely affable disposition as a distraction to her old heartache. His harmless crush grew into what his youthful mind determined to be love. More than that, he’d convinced himself she loved him in return and only refused his insistent advances because of the whole imprinting thing.
Even if she’d had those sort of feelings for him, which she certainly didn’t, why would she ever allow herself to be in a relationship with him knowing he would up and imprint on someone else one day? Why would he expect her to open herself up to that kind of pain? Did he truly care so little for her already bruised and battered heart? Had he learned nothing from running around in Sam and Leah’s head when they were all phased – ? Was he that obtuse as to think they would be any different?
It was unfair of him to put so much pressure on her. She started pulling away from the res, spending more time at the community college in Port Angeles and also with Charlie. She contemplated moving and leaving the small town that had been the epicenter of so much heartache, but with Victoria persistently testing the wolves and their defenses, Bella knew she wouldn’t last five minutes once out of town. At least in Forks she and her father were safe. The wolves would protect them both.
Or so she’d thought.
A lump formed in her throat as she thought of her father. They’d been spending so much time together lately – closer than ever before. She supposed that’d been the one benefit to being a social pariah in a small town. She and Charlie were both awkward when it came to sharing emotions, but they’d let their actions speak for them. She enjoyed cooking for him, sometimes bringing cookies and the likes down to the station for him and the guys. And Charlie had always handed her new sets of pepper spray, reminding her to walk with her keys between her knuckles whenever she was at the community college for a night class. He’d even taken it upon himself to teach her how to shoot recently, giving her pointers on many areas of self-defense.
“But why salt, dad?” she asked after he’d declared her proficient enough in shooting regular buckshot and defensive ammo. “When would I ever need to shoot someone with salt?”
He’d given her a flat-lipped smile. “I just want you to be able to handle the different weight and kick of it, Bells. The salt won’t fire like regular ammunition and you should learn how to compensate for the weight and recoil. Consider it an exercise; a test to see how well you can balance the gun and aim while being caught by surprise.”
He’d been lying, of course. For a man of the law with an often indecipherable poker face, Bella knew his tells well and had no doubt there was more to it than what he said. But again, she and Charlie were so much alike. She didn’t outright question him on it and didn’t hover about his business. He must’ve had his reasons and in the end, she put her trust in that and went with it. So she’d spent her weekends shooting at paper zombie targets with salt and making cheesy jokes with Charlie about them being well seasoned.
“Are you even listening to me? This is serious, Bella!” Jake cut into her thoughts.
Bella rolled her eyes. “All you do is talk at me, Jake. I have no choice but to listen yet you refuse to hear what I have to say.” She gave him a pointed glare, continuing with a firm, “Go home. I’m fine on my own.”
Or as fine as she could be considering the pack had failed to catch Victoria after all these years and the bitch finally managed to slip through their defenses and murder her father. As fine as she could be when her long-gone uncle had called having been promptly notified of Charlie’s passing, ending a stilted two-minute conversation by telling her they’d be there tonight.
They – not he. She knew exactly who he’d meant.
God, I don’t think I can take the sight of them, she thought, her hand lifting up to soothe the ache in her chest. Not now when she was so raw and emotional. She was far from the young girl who’d once thought the sun rose and set on the shoulders of the Winchester brothers… Far from the foolish teenager who had let a stupid vampire with a pretty face prey on the insecurities those same brothers set loose.
But that didn’t mean she had her shit together. Far from it.
In her darker, weaker moments of self-pity, she rather blamed the brothers for the turn her life had taken. Leaving her in the manner they’d had had left her hungry and starved for affection while simultaneously believing she didn’t deserve any. It’d been a deadly combo that had left her ripe for Edward’s picking. That’d been why him leaving had effected her so deeply. It hadn’t just been losing him and his family – though of course that had stung – but the small, nagging feeling that every word he said while dumping her had been exactly how the brothers had felt as well… That’s what had crippled her. Not good enough; just a distraction.
Time had healed the wound of Edward and the Cullens leaving her. Really, she’d only just been in love with the fantasy of him and could see him clearly now for the manipulative little child he’d acted like more often than not. But the Winchesters leaving her? Even after ten years her heart still bleed their loss, leaving her feeling like an amputee without her arms.
She really didn’t think she could handle seeing them. Not Dean… her smart ass, pseudo big brother who had fought the imaginary monsters in her closet for her. And not Sam… her Sammy.
“Charlie is dead, Bella – you’re not fine,” Jake’s voice sliced through her thoughts.
Cold fury ignited like a flash fire.
“Oh boy, now he’s done it,” the phantom voice murmured, sounding almost eager.
“You don’t think I know that,” she hissed between pressed lips, disgust at his insensitivity making her hands shake. “Don’t you dare come into my house, Jacob Black, and throw my father’s death in my face to make me fall in your line. Fuck you very much.”
“Bells, be reasonable,” he held his hands up.
“Don’t you fucking call me that,” she yelled, her temper snapping as she slapped a palm down on the counter for emphasis. “I’ve told you already to stop calling me that!”
Charlie had called her that. She couldn’t bear the thought of Jake taking her father’s name for her and twisting it to his own designs.
“Would you just calm down and listen to me,” he huffed, his own patience thinning. “I mean – look at yourself. You’re not okay. You’re angry – I get it. But maybe we should resolve this anger problem before anyone else gets hurt.”
As molten hot as her anger had been just seconds before he opened his fat mouth, it now turned to ice slipping down her back as she straightened her spine and shivered. Her eyes pinned him to the floor, the half-step he was already taking to her stopping as he swallowed looking somewhat nervous despite all his bravado.
“Excuse me?” she asked, nearly a whisper and each word flat and dangerously even.
“Yes Isabella…” the voice murmured in her ear, both encouraging and eager like a kid on Christmas morning.
Jake swallowed around the lump in his throat, but lifted his head stubbornly. “You let your misplaced anger with me drive you away from the res – from the protection of the pack, Bella.”
“Are you implying that it’s my fault Charlie is dead?” she clarified in that same, unerringly flat tone.
Of course, Bella already shouldered a healthy portion of the blame knowing that her connection to the Cullens had ultimately instigated Victoria’s quest for vengeance but she was self-aware enough to see all of the factors that had contributed to the terrible tragedy of her father’s passing. Then there was the pack themselves and their cocky attitudes. They’d started thinking themselves infallible because Victoria had failed to breach them after all this time – even though they refused to realize how they too had failed in taking her out over the years. They’d grown lazy and complacent in their duty.
But the largest amount of blame on her part, other than for Victoria herself naturally, had been reserved for the Cullens. The Cullens and Eddie’s stupid posturing had set off James to begin with. That, and their stupid sense of passivity; really, their coven was seven strong and there’d been only three to James’ coven – it was no contest. They should’ve been aware of their own nature enough to know better. They should’ve known that James and therefore his mate wouldn’t backdown. Then they’d up and abandoned her, leaving the loose ends of a revenge thirsty mate trailing after them.
Though for Jake to sneak into her house, cornering her and badgering her, preying on her grief for his own gain…
As he’d grown more persistent in that stupid crush of his she’d found him annoying at best, completely delusional and borderline unhinged at worst. Still he’d been manageable. She’d made good friends with Jared and Paul, of all people, and they’d found it good fun spoiling Jake’s transparent schemes of cornering Bella into a relationship, often running interference for her when Jake would become overly clingy. Though as time went on, Bella didn’t even think Jake still had any true affection left for her and it’d become the principle of the matter – he’d become fixated on the challenge of getting into her pants and any true sentiment he’d held for her had been withered away by her constant refusal of him.
Before her very eyes she saw his hesitance melt away and his face hardened. He looked cold and alien; his pride wounded and therefore determined to hurt her as well. “That is exactly what I’m saying. And you know I’m right – so quit this tough girl act and come home to the res. Come home with me, Bells.”
Hearing the nickname off his foul lips set her right eye twitching. In hindsight, she wouldn’t be able to remember just how the loaded shotgun Charlie had insisted keeping by the front door ended up in her hands… But when she raised it to her shoulder and stared down the barrel at Jake’s wide-eyed form, she didn’t so much as flinch at the sound the gun made when she racked it and took aim.
It was no secret that Sam’s temper had been on a short leash for a while now. Being self-aware was half the battle though, right? He didn’t quite trust himself as his body continued to come down from his demon blood high still but he was much better than he’d been before. The line between right and wrong no longer as blurred as it’d been. It was a struggle yet, but at least he knew on which side of that line he was firmly planted on. Even if through sheer willpower alone, he swore to never cross it again.
But when Cas’s declaration slapped them out of left field and was immediately followed by the tell-tale boom of a shotgun, Sam wasn’t so sure he could keep that promise. When Bella’s door slammed open and a shirtless man scurried down the front steps, Sam’s mind jumped to the worst and that definitive line vanished like mere smoke to the wind. In his concern for Bella, the absolute fear that she’d been hurt or worse clawing at his heart, he was all too willing to take that promise and ram it down someone’s throat.
He was out of the car before he could process having even moved, Dean and Bobby nipping at his heels.
Before he could reach the guy, however, a young woman was marching out onto the porch. The butt of the shotgun rested in the groove of her shoulder, poised to shoot again as she trained it on the man.
“What the hell, Bella?” the guy snapped, sounding merely annoyed for having clearly been shot. “You fucking shot me!”
There was a small trail of blood trickling down his left leg, but with his words – and the confirmation who the woman on the steps was – Sam’s attention flew back to the porch and the shirtless guy became nothing more than white noise, static as he trained his every sense on the woman. On little Bella Swan who didn’t look quite so little anymore.
Eyes widened as he took her in, his mouth running dry and his heart stalling in a way Dean would never let him live down if ever he found out. His gaze swept her over from head to toe; then once more for good measure because what he saw more than agreed with him. Just on this side of short and curves that had his palms damn near sweating, fingers clenched at his sides as he fought the impulse to rush at her, sweep her up into his arms as he’d always done when they were younger. Clutch her to him like a child unwilling to share, keeping her only for himself as he’d always yearned to do. Long hair framed a vaguely familiar pale, heart-shaped face currently flushed in anger. There was no mistaking those brown eyes, though, spitting fire even as they were as she glared at the man. Little Bella Swan had grown up even more beautifully than he ever imagined during his weaker moments prone to fantasy… But she was still and forever would be his Brown Eyed Girl.
“Quit your crying,” she huffed, rolling said eyes and breaking the trance the very sight of her had caught him in. “You’ll heal,” she spat.
“You shot me in the fucking leg!” the guy cried out, voice shrill in disbelief. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sam couldn’t help but think he sounded like a wailing cat in heat.
“It’s just a graze, Jake – you’re lucky I decided to give you a warning shot. Next time, I won’t miss.”
At her words, the man – Jake – flattened his lips and he straightened to an impressive height that gave even Sam a run for his money. Recognizing a fighter’s stance, Sam instantly withdrew his Beretta, holding it down to the side but at the ready should the dick so much as twitch towards their girl.
Dean spoke before Sam could, his deep, gruff bark finally letting the two in on their audience. “Back off, Chuckles – she may have missed but I never do. Why don’t you pack it up and get to stepping before I give you matching hole – this time in your face.”
Jake twisted, taking them and their guns in before seemingly dismissing them as he scoffed, “And just who the hell are you?”
“I’m the guy with the gun – that’s all that matters.”
“Just go, Jake; and this time, don’t come back,” Bella broke in as it became clear neither Dean nor this Jake character was going to back down.
Jake inhaled, his attention turning back to Bella. Sam didn’t like the light of obsession in his dark eyes; the barely restrained anger that his body appeared to vibrate with. The guy’s thick arms were shaking as he visibly kept himself from approaching her and by the way his weight shifted foot to foot, Sam suspected he was going to lose that battle.
Sudden realization that this was likely the wolf Charlie had been concerned with slammed into Sam with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the chest. His gun went from waiting in the sidelines, aimed at an innocent shrub, to being trained directly over the dog’s heart. Usually it was him being the voice of reason; him keeping Dean back from impulsively rushing into fights and being the first to talk things out instead of pulling triggers.
Not this time. Not with her at stake.
“One step towards her and I’ll shoot,” he said lowly, the words more than a threat. When Jake turned to him, Sam gave a grim smile and tightened his hand around his gun, raising it pointedly. The sound of him cocking it was louder than normal, his intention perfectly clear as he continued, “And something tells me you won’t shake off this silver bullet as easily as you took her shot.”
After Bobby’s warning about the wolf shifters, Sam had taken the time to change the ammunition in his gun, loading a mag full of silver bullets. They didn’t know if silver would have the same effect on the tribal protectors that it did on the average shifter, but Sam was willing to find out. Either way, Sam would aim at a spot guaranteed to cause the dog a lot of pain, silver or no.
Jake’s lip curled, looking like a dog snarling over being denied a treat. He eyed Sam and seemed to take him for his word, his shoulders dropping as he took a slow step back, then another, heading towards the woods that lined the house.
Once he reached the edge of the trees, he turned back, eyes narrowing when he saw that Sam had never relaxed his stance. The gun still trained over him, Sam’s hand steady and sure.
Lip curling again, he turned back to Bella, unable to leave without having the last word. “We’ll continue this conversation later, Bella. We’re not done here.”
From the corner of his eyes, Sam saw as Bella straightened. He was mildly surprised that she’d never lowered her shotgun too and had it propped against her shoulder. “We’ve nothing left to discuss, Jake, but by all means – I’ll happily shot you again if you come around here and want to re-open the issue.”
It shouldn’t have, but hearing her threaten him did funny things to Sam. His gut filled with a pleasant tightness and he fought to keep his eyes on Jake who was still an obvious threat. He wanted to drink in the sight of her standing on her porch like some sort of avenging war goddess as if he’d never tasted the rain before. Feast upon her image as if she was his last meal while on Death Row.
Holy crap, what’s happening to me… his mind spun though his face never changed expressions. She hasn’t even spoken to me yet and I’m lost. Just lost to her.
It’d always been that way with her. Bella Swan had always held him enraptured without even trying.
A small voice whispered in the back of his mind – and you never want to be found again.
It was true and he couldn’t even muster up the effort to be upset about it.
Jake blew out an annoyed breath sounding almost like a kettle of tea letting off steam. The fight in him was clear but again, he looked to the others and seemed to think better of it, turning and running into the woods. The trees swallowed the sight of him and then there was silence.
A loud sigh from the house, “Well,” Bella said quietly. “This is awkward.”
They turned to her in unison and Sam watched as she lowered the shotgun and angled her body towards them. It was obvious she was talking to them, even if by default since they were the only ones there, but her eyes never quite met any of theirs. Sam could feel the weight of her stare roving over each of them, first Bobby, then Dean and then lastly himself. He didn’t know if it was his imagination or just wishful thinking, but her gaze seemed to linger on him longer than the others though with his own eyes boring into her he could tell she stopped her bottom to top perusal of him right at his chin. She wouldn’t met his eyes.
Inwardly deflating, Sam fought back the sting of disappointment at not being able to look into the eyes of his Brown Eyed Girl. Her eyes had always been his favorite feature of hers… She could say so much with just a look and invariably he’d always feel better after gazing into them. No matter the drama going on with his dad, the weight of the hunt hanging over his head as the expectations grew heavier and heavier upon his shoulders – just a look into her eyes and it’d all melt away.
He’d only realized it’d been like that their last summer in Forks. Rufus had left for a hunt earlier on and had called John for reinforcements. Usually Dean was always nipping at the heels to join their dad on a hunt, but they’d begun to look at their summers as something sacred. Their time with Bella was already limited so the last thing either boy wanted was to miss more of it. Summers in Forks were relished and was their time – their freedom. Every minute spent with Bella cherished.
But Dean never could refuse a direct order from their dad. So when John laid down the law and told him he’d be going with him to help Rufus and Sam would stay to keep Bella company, Dean just flattened his lips. He glared a bit, clearly spoiling for a fight about it, but then his shoulders straightened to attention and he nodded.
John left to make sure their gear in the Impala was set and Dean lingered in the kitchen a moment.
“It’s okay, Bean,” Bella said softly, using her nickname for him as she often did when he was upset. Closing a cabinet, she walked over and leaned into Dean reassuringly. Dean’s arm lifted automatically, planting itself around her shoulders and tucking her under his wing. It was a familiar pose for the two, one that Sam had never cared to see them in, but for some reason had really gotten under his skin that summer.
They were silent a moment, Dean clearly finding comfort in holding her, until his brother sighed. “Guess I better go get ready,” he mumbled. He was clearly still bitter but when he looked down to see Bella smiling up at him, he visibly softened. “Any chance you’ll make that apple pie again for when I get back?”
Bella pulled away with a laugh. “You got it, Bean,” she promised.
Dean grinned as she set about taking out ingredients for said pie.
“Thanks Belly,” he beamed, and when she grinned at him he gave her a wink before he turned to Sam.
“Look after our girl, Sam,” he ordered, sounding unerringly like dad.
Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that Bella was one subject they both took very seriously. “You know I will, Dean,” he said.
Dean stared at him a moment longer before the stern expression dropped and he grinned. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Sammy boy.”
Feeling his cheeks heat up, Sam sputtered. “Just shut up and leave, Dean!”
Laughing, Dean jogged out of the room.
Charlie was the next to leave, his shift starting in fifteen minutes. “You two behave now, no funny business,” he said, but it was Sam he was looking at. Sam had always gotten on well with Charlie, enjoying the fishing trips he’d take them on and the quiet confidence that all but exuded from the man. Something about the way he was looking at him just then, though, had him nervous and fighting the urge to look where Bella was standing behind him, probably rolling her eyes.
Despite the random awkwardness, Sam kept his gaze and eventually, Charlie’s mustache twitched, the familiar tell of a smile. “Alright then – see ya Sammy. Bells.”
Then he, too, was gone and they had the house to themselves.
“Can you reach the mixing bowl set up there for me, Sammy?” Bella asked after having stretched to her limit trying to grab it.
Sam grinned as she still reached up, poised on her tippy-toes. “Sure thing, Bell,” he said, coming up behind her. He could tell when she was aware of his proximity because she all but froze, still stretched out. Feeling awkward even though there was no one in the world he was usually more comfortable with than her, Sam quietly lifted his arm and leaned forward, his chest ever so lightly grazing her back.
His mouth went dry and for a second, he forgot what he was doing until his hand wrapped around the top of the bowls. Jerking himself out of it, he brought them down and handed them to her, backing up to the old radio Charlie kept by the stove and fiddling with the dials to distract himself and calm his suddenly racing heart. Once he found a classic rock station he stopped and glanced back at Bella who was already back at sorting ingredients.
As the current song ended he heard the twang of a guitar and then Van Morrison started singing. The first bit faded out as he watched Bella start to sway and hum as she set about baking, but then he heard the familiar lines…
“…Our, our hearts a-thumping
And you, my brown-eyed girl,
You, my brown-eyed girl…”
And Bella’s humming turned into soft singing as the chorus followed. Before he knew it, Sam was beside her, handing her measuring cups and singing along, grinning as he purposefully flicked flour at her and laughing as she tried to return the favor only to get it all over herself instead.
“Easy there, Brown Eyed Girl,” he’d smiled as she tried to wipe a smudge off her cheek only to smear more flour over it in the process. He took a kitchen towel and brought his hands to either side of her face, one hand cradling her cheek as the other gently wiped away all traces of flour.
Bella just grinned even more, her head tilted back to stare up at him. He’d always been tall but he’d had another growth spurt in the months they’d been separated and she’d been teasing about getting a crick in her neck from looking up at him all summer.
Staring down into her eyes, the leftover awkwardness from his brother and Charlie teasing him melted away. He’d had a crush on her for forever, of course, and tended to stress over it, overanalyzing his emotions from every angle. But looking into her eyes, all of the doubt and stress evaporated and he felt like himself once again. In her eyes, he found all the comforts of home and he never wanted to look away.
“Bell,” he murmured and his heart skipped a beat as her cheeks heated up in a glorious blush, her big brown eyes glazing as they darted down to his lips.
Screw it, he thought. Slowly he leaned down, his bangs falling into his eyes as he brought his lips to hers and pressed a soft, whisper kiss there.
Every part of him reveled in the feeling of her pressed lightly against him. When he felt her arms circle his waist, one hand sneaking up to brush his hair back as she tentatively returned the kiss, Sam had to fight the urge to crow in victory. At last, at long last, he had his girl.
He pulled away after a good minute, knowing that he’d not only caught her by surprise but that it was their first kiss – as in first kiss ever with anyone – and didn’t want to push her too far.
“Sammy?” she asked in a breathless whisper that had his body reacting in embarrassing ways.
“Yeah Bell,” he answered, voice deeper than usual. No other words were needed.
She shivered lightly in his arms but the small smile that spread across her lips put his heart to soaring.
“My Sammy,” she said just as softly. She hadn’t called him that in some time, at least not seriously, and hearing it now made his heart smile.
“Always,” he promised.
Before any more could be said, though, they were interrupted by the sound sharp sound of John clearing his throat.
“Sam,” he barked, eyeing him carefully as he jumped away from Bell faster than a cat on a hot tin roof.
“Dad – thought you’d left,” Sam said, voice higher than normal.
John arched a brow. “So I see,” he said, disapproval heavy in every word.
“Sorry Uncle John,” Bella said, biting her lip and clearly worried to have upset him.
Turning to her, John softened. Bella had a way with all of the Winchester men. “It’s fine, Bells – I just forgot something in my room.”
He turned to leave but not before giving Sam a hard look that clearly stated he’d be taken to task later. John was up the stairs and back down again in no time. He didn’t say anything as he left, presumably for good, and Sam was working up the courage to bring up their kiss when the door slammed open, startling them again.
“Change of plans – dad wants me to stay here. No idea why, but we can still have pie, right?” Dean said, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.
“Yeah, sure Bean,” Bella smiled, turning around and focusing on baking once more.
Two days later John and Rufus returned. Then the day after that, John hauled them off for good and Sam never did get to talk to her about that kiss.
That one, perfect kiss they’d shared.
Shaking himself out of it, he contented himself with being able to look at her presently. Even if he couldn’t have the reassurance of looking into her eyes, at least she was there. They were there. After so many years apart, they were at last together again.
“Anyone need a drink?” Bella suddenly asked, turning away from them and heading back to the house. “I could use a drink.”
She marched back in and they were all frozen for a moment until they heard her shrill cry of, “And just who the hell are you now?!”
“Son of a bitch,” Dean barked, flying up the steps and into the house.
Sam beat him to the door by seconds, immediately relaxing once he saw who Bella was currently pointing her shotgun at.
The relief was temporary. Always one for taking questions literally, the newcomer answered in his usual, monotone voice, “My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the lord.”
This was overlapped by Dean calling out Sam’s name in warning as they all saw Bella sway slightly before her arms went limp. The gun fell to the floor and she tilted back in a dead faint.
Being the closest one to her, Sam caught her before she hit the floor, swinging her up into his arms and trying not to like the feeling of holding her against him too much.
Silence, until Bobby muttered dryly, “Well I think that all went well.”
Considering he had his Brown Eyed Girl in his arms and curled up against his chest, Sam wasn’t sure he could complain to much, really.
(A/N): As ever, thanks so much for reading and I hope everyone enjoyed!