Fic: In the Future, Series 2 - "Easy to Leave" 9/10
Title: Easy to Leave 9/10
Author: Me
Spoilers: References Bloodlust
Disclaimer: Fan fic, nothing owned
Word count: 622
Notes: This is het, R, Sam/Lenore. Future fic. Unbeta'd. Continues from the previous "In the Future" series.
Lenore drives the Impala back towards the motel, refusing to do anything ridiculous like cry or scream. She curses instead, a growled sub-vocal monologue of anger and grief. Of all the stupid impulsive things she’s done, this might just earn her a first place blue ribbon.
Sam eventually let go of her and walked back inside. Every inch of his body screamed “betrayal” and it burned her like white hot fire. How dare he not believe her? How dare he not see she was doing for so they could be together?
Did he think it would be easier if she kept driving? Alone again, concerned only with her own well-being and safety. No one to worry about or tie herself in knots about. Go back to existing and surviving and forget this...thing that had a life of its own. This maze of feelings and love (God, she loved him, how stupid) and pain she couldn’t seem to separate from anything else.
How dare he.
It’s several miles before she realizes she’s passed the motel and has to turn around.
***
The motel room manages to be even more depressing on her return, not an easy feat by any measure. Lenore steps out of her clothes, ignoring the rumpled bed and Sam’s things scattered around the room. The shower creaks and moans, spitting out hot metallic water eventually. She stands there, eyes closed until it runs ice cold.
Now the temperature matches her blood and her heart; she tries to do the same to her brain.
The old Lenore would have already been on her way. Companions could make time pass more pleasantly but no one needed an emotional liability.
Sam was...an emotional liability. An albatross. Sam was six and a half feet of complication. Sam made her far more infamous than she needed to be. Sam made her vulnerable and she could not forgive him for that. Sam had cut her open for display like no other person, in her life or in her death. The creature that had turned her had done less damage.
She really should be gone.
***
Lenore eventually leaves the shower. She tidies up the bathroom with Sam’s methodical precision. She dresses in some of his discarded clothes, a cross between masochism and being amazingly pathetic.
She fixes the bed.
She drinks two warm beers from a crumpled bag on the table.
His backpack sits in the corner, tempting her. Calling her. Perhaps it would make it easier to leave if she defiled every single bond between them.
Two more beers and she makes her move, approaching the beat-up brown leather bad like she’s diffusing a bomb. Or perhaps setting one off.
The ancient zipper makes a rusty strangled sound as she pulls it apart, the dark depths revealing nothing at first glance. She can small the age and miles of road, dried and decrepit bits of nature that might have once been of use in a spell. And books...books held together by Sam’s sheer will and love. Parting the sides, Lenore breathes in the scent.
It’s comforting. And torturous.
She wants to touch everything, read all the secret family words of the Winchesters. She wants to breach the privacy of all of Sam’s private thoughts and past, all the parts he hides from her. She wants to find the pictures she knows are hidden away - his parents, his brother, his love and everything he’s lost. She wants to wallow in all the pain locked inside this stupid stupid bag.
She wants to find something that makes it easier to leave but already Lenore can feel the strain and stress inside her. Everywhere she looks, she just sees more to make her want to stay.
Author: Me
Spoilers: References Bloodlust
Disclaimer: Fan fic, nothing owned
Word count: 622
Notes: This is het, R, Sam/Lenore. Future fic. Unbeta'd. Continues from the previous "In the Future" series.
Lenore drives the Impala back towards the motel, refusing to do anything ridiculous like cry or scream. She curses instead, a growled sub-vocal monologue of anger and grief. Of all the stupid impulsive things she’s done, this might just earn her a first place blue ribbon.
Sam eventually let go of her and walked back inside. Every inch of his body screamed “betrayal” and it burned her like white hot fire. How dare he not believe her? How dare he not see she was doing for so they could be together?
Did he think it would be easier if she kept driving? Alone again, concerned only with her own well-being and safety. No one to worry about or tie herself in knots about. Go back to existing and surviving and forget this...thing that had a life of its own. This maze of feelings and love (God, she loved him, how stupid) and pain she couldn’t seem to separate from anything else.
How dare he.
It’s several miles before she realizes she’s passed the motel and has to turn around.
***
The motel room manages to be even more depressing on her return, not an easy feat by any measure. Lenore steps out of her clothes, ignoring the rumpled bed and Sam’s things scattered around the room. The shower creaks and moans, spitting out hot metallic water eventually. She stands there, eyes closed until it runs ice cold.
Now the temperature matches her blood and her heart; she tries to do the same to her brain.
The old Lenore would have already been on her way. Companions could make time pass more pleasantly but no one needed an emotional liability.
Sam was...an emotional liability. An albatross. Sam was six and a half feet of complication. Sam made her far more infamous than she needed to be. Sam made her vulnerable and she could not forgive him for that. Sam had cut her open for display like no other person, in her life or in her death. The creature that had turned her had done less damage.
She really should be gone.
***
Lenore eventually leaves the shower. She tidies up the bathroom with Sam’s methodical precision. She dresses in some of his discarded clothes, a cross between masochism and being amazingly pathetic.
She fixes the bed.
She drinks two warm beers from a crumpled bag on the table.
His backpack sits in the corner, tempting her. Calling her. Perhaps it would make it easier to leave if she defiled every single bond between them.
Two more beers and she makes her move, approaching the beat-up brown leather bad like she’s diffusing a bomb. Or perhaps setting one off.
The ancient zipper makes a rusty strangled sound as she pulls it apart, the dark depths revealing nothing at first glance. She can small the age and miles of road, dried and decrepit bits of nature that might have once been of use in a spell. And books...books held together by Sam’s sheer will and love. Parting the sides, Lenore breathes in the scent.
It’s comforting. And torturous.
She wants to touch everything, read all the secret family words of the Winchesters. She wants to breach the privacy of all of Sam’s private thoughts and past, all the parts he hides from her. She wants to find the pictures she knows are hidden away - his parents, his brother, his love and everything he’s lost. She wants to wallow in all the pain locked inside this stupid stupid bag.
She wants to find something that makes it easier to leave but already Lenore can feel the strain and stress inside her. Everywhere she looks, she just sees more to make her want to stay.