Do it again [Living Dead Girl]
[Dare: Fix Something]
Lawyer!Sam. Spoilers for S3 of Heroes. Claire im_afreakshow and Sandra loves_mrmuggles used with permission
This isn’t supposed to happen. Of all the people in his world that are supposed to be safe from The Sam Winchester Curse, it is supposed to be her.
Sam Winchester: killing the people he loves one blonde at a time
He knows the words aren’t true but they feel true and that’s what matters, isn’t it? He’s sitting on a stiff, vinyl chair in a waiting room next to Sandra Bennet, her hand pressed between both of his. His eyes are dry, his throat is dry, in fact Sam thinks he’s going dry up and blow away at this rate. Sandra’s hand is dry between his, her skin like tissue paper.
“Thank you so much for being here. I don’t know what I’d do alone,” Sandra says, fretting with her hair with her free hand.
Sam shakes his head, clearing his throat. The words come out as dusty and dry as he feels. “Thanks for calling me. I want to be here…when she wakes up.”
Or to kill her faster. It’s not like his record is any good. Jess was dead within a month of her diagnosis
“Oh, she’s gonna be so angry at me,” Sandra says, slipping her hand out from between Sam’s hands so that she could pace and smooth her hair down. “For callin’ you I mean. Not that she doesn’t want you here. She just…you know how girls are about their hair.”
“Right,” Sam nods. Even when she’d been so desperately sick, Jess had wanted him to wash her hair and brush it every day. He knows how girls are about their hair. “She can be angry. I’ll go back home once I know she’s alright.”
An appearance by the doctor halts Sandra’s pacing and Sam is out of his chair, one arm wrapped around Sandra’s shoulders before the doctor reaches them. He’s seen that look before. Instinctively, Sandra knows what that look means as well, Her fingers curve around Sam’s forearm, pressing hard, nails cutting into his skin when the doctor starts to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
She crumbles a little against him but she’s so much tougher than she looks. In Sam’s experience, most women are.
“I want to see her.”
The words are firm, precise, just scattered with the hint of an accent. Grief, sorrow and hope have all but banished the softness the accent lends to her voice. Sam takes a step back, nodding at her as he shoves his hands in his pockets. Once she leaves, escorted by the doctor, Sam slumps in a chair to wait.
Sam Winchester: 2 Blondes: 0
Or maybe the score should go the other way. It doesn’t matter because she’s dead and Jess is dead and in some other world, his mother is dead. And he had something to do with every single death. And this one? He couldn’t lay it on his conscience but she was dead nonetheless. He turns the leather bracelet on his wrist, over and over. Still dry; his throat, his eyes, his breath. He’s raking his hands through his hair when he catches a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye.
“So why do you look like someone kicked your puppy? I mean I’ve got dead girl hair so really if anyone is going to be upset…”
The words come out a fumbled, jumble, more whisper than anything. “Christo.” When she doesn’t flinch he crushes her in a hug, standing up and picking her up off her feet.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he rasps, tears welling in his eyes. His throat is so thick with tears he’s not sure he can say anything else. In absence of words, he presses a kiss to the side of her head.
Sam Winchester: 1 Blondes: 1
Lawyer!Sam. Spoilers for S3 of Heroes. Claire im_afreakshow and Sandra loves_mrmuggles used with permission
This isn’t supposed to happen. Of all the people in his world that are supposed to be safe from The Sam Winchester Curse, it is supposed to be her.
Sam Winchester: killing the people he loves one blonde at a time
He knows the words aren’t true but they feel true and that’s what matters, isn’t it? He’s sitting on a stiff, vinyl chair in a waiting room next to Sandra Bennet, her hand pressed between both of his. His eyes are dry, his throat is dry, in fact Sam thinks he’s going dry up and blow away at this rate. Sandra’s hand is dry between his, her skin like tissue paper.
“Thank you so much for being here. I don’t know what I’d do alone,” Sandra says, fretting with her hair with her free hand.
Sam shakes his head, clearing his throat. The words come out as dusty and dry as he feels. “Thanks for calling me. I want to be here…when she wakes up.”
Or to kill her faster. It’s not like his record is any good. Jess was dead within a month of her diagnosis
“Oh, she’s gonna be so angry at me,” Sandra says, slipping her hand out from between Sam’s hands so that she could pace and smooth her hair down. “For callin’ you I mean. Not that she doesn’t want you here. She just…you know how girls are about their hair.”
“Right,” Sam nods. Even when she’d been so desperately sick, Jess had wanted him to wash her hair and brush it every day. He knows how girls are about their hair. “She can be angry. I’ll go back home once I know she’s alright.”
An appearance by the doctor halts Sandra’s pacing and Sam is out of his chair, one arm wrapped around Sandra’s shoulders before the doctor reaches them. He’s seen that look before. Instinctively, Sandra knows what that look means as well, Her fingers curve around Sam’s forearm, pressing hard, nails cutting into his skin when the doctor starts to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
She crumbles a little against him but she’s so much tougher than she looks. In Sam’s experience, most women are.
“I want to see her.”
The words are firm, precise, just scattered with the hint of an accent. Grief, sorrow and hope have all but banished the softness the accent lends to her voice. Sam takes a step back, nodding at her as he shoves his hands in his pockets. Once she leaves, escorted by the doctor, Sam slumps in a chair to wait.
Sam Winchester: 2 Blondes: 0
Or maybe the score should go the other way. It doesn’t matter because she’s dead and Jess is dead and in some other world, his mother is dead. And he had something to do with every single death. And this one? He couldn’t lay it on his conscience but she was dead nonetheless. He turns the leather bracelet on his wrist, over and over. Still dry; his throat, his eyes, his breath. He’s raking his hands through his hair when he catches a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye.
“So why do you look like someone kicked your puppy? I mean I’ve got dead girl hair so really if anyone is going to be upset…”
The words come out a fumbled, jumble, more whisper than anything. “Christo.” When she doesn’t flinch he crushes her in a hug, standing up and picking her up off her feet.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he rasps, tears welling in his eyes. His throat is so thick with tears he’s not sure he can say anything else. In absence of words, he presses a kiss to the side of her head.
Sam Winchester: 1 Blondes: 1