Michael hadn't been home long when he heard the knock on the door. He was in the middle of changing into more comfortable clothes. He was still in his black pants, and his button down shirt was unbuttoned, hanging over his white wifebeater. His gun was still at the small of his back.
He wasn't expecting anyone, and figured it would probably be Sam. He sighed and went for the door, shrugging the long shirt off and going to open the door.
It had been a long drive down to Miami. Bela kept her distance from both of them, but the only one who stood a chance of actually being about to touch her was Sam. Dean wasn't allowed anywhere near her, and he seemed more than willing to keep his distance on that one. Once they got there, however, the boys seemed a little nervous to just drop her off and go.
"We'll stay to make sure they don't shoot you or something," Sam sighed as she started to climb out of the car. She would have protested, but she didn't feel like starting a fight. She needed her energy to deal with what was waiting on the other side of that door
( ... )
Everything inside of him sank at once. The shirt fell from his hand, but otherwise he couldn't move. He could barely blink, in fear if he did the vision would disappear. And yet...it seemed so real.
But it wasn't the first time he had thought he was seeing her.
This was the first time, though, that he could feel her. The particular feeling her body gave off to his, her scent, everything - it was right there. He was choking it down like thick air.
She couldn't be there. She was dead. She had been dead for two years. He'd struggled on for two years. He had been heartbroken for two years....this couldn't be...
He could so easily reach out and touch her, find out once and for all if she was an illusion or not, but he wasn't sure he could take the reality if she was.
She stood there, watching him for a moment and wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. Of all the people around her, he was probably the one person she could actually stand to let touch her, but she wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't flinch away when it happened. It wasn't the lack of contact that was troubling her, though. It was the fact that he was just standing there, looking at her, and she couldn't tell what he was thinking.
She knew she should explain. It probably would have been the best thing, for her to explain, but she didn't want to launch into that without knowing what it was he was thinking. What it was he wanted.
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He wasn't expecting anyone, and figured it would probably be Sam. He sighed and went for the door, shrugging the long shirt off and going to open the door.
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"We'll stay to make sure they don't shoot you or something," Sam sighed as she started to climb out of the car. She would have protested, but she didn't feel like starting a fight. She needed her energy to deal with what was waiting on the other side of that door ( ... )
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But it wasn't the first time he had thought he was seeing her.
This was the first time, though, that he could feel her. The particular feeling her body gave off to his, her scent, everything - it was right there. He was choking it down like thick air.
She couldn't be there. She was dead. She had been dead for two years. He'd struggled on for two years. He had been heartbroken for two years....this couldn't be...
He could so easily reach out and touch her, find out once and for all if she was an illusion or not, but he wasn't sure he could take the reality if she was.
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She knew she should explain. It probably would have been the best thing, for her to explain, but she didn't want to launch into that without knowing what it was he was thinking. What it was he wanted.
"Please say something."
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