You're Not Alone
You're Not Alone
He closed his eyes to the sounds of music around him, music he didn’t know and never would. It wasn’t from his time or place, but it suited her. The clothes she wore seemed too big, like she’d lost weight but she moved with a grace that made Sam shiver. He didn’t usually see her in his mind like this, but she looked dangerous here, her dance a careful choreography that hid the lithe lines and deadly stealth that moved with her.
Sam Winchester knew death, and she was beautiful with it.
“I want to dance,” she whispered as she neared, her eyes lowered until the last minute as she looked up, turning her head to the side ever so slightly before looking away again. Her hands pulled at him though and he found himself in the middle of the darkness, trying not to fall through the midnight sky.
“I want to dance,” she said again as she took position before him, his arms in waltz position and she seemed to catch on quickly enough as he moved her through the first steps.
“I want to fly,” she admitted next as they moved through the clouds, darkness giving way to brilliant stars and nebulas he had no name for. “I want to be free of thought and sanity, want to run faster than what’s catching up with me, faster than the wind and hide forever in the clouds.”
Sam sighed as he pulled her closer, feeling the ever growing pressure of tears behind his eyes. It always felt like that when they spoke, his broken girl with her racing feet and cotton candy attention span. He didn’t know who broke her, how they broke her, but that never stopped them from coming together again.
“He makes it right,” she confessed.
Sam nodded. “He makes it right,” he agreed. They were speaking of brothers then, her dear Simon who gave up his life as a doctor to protect her, and Sam of Dean who had gone to hell for him, who had given up everything that had ever been good in his life.
“I shouldn’t need him like I do,” Sam said, giving his own little confession.
“He needs you too,” River replied. “Needs to make you better, needs to remember something more than breaking and bones snapping, needs to remember bandages and kissing boo boos better. He needs to remember life and love and forget death and the soullessness that he awoke to.”
Sam huffed out a laugh. “And what do I need?”
She looked up at him, kissing his cheek lightly. “You need to remember you are loved.”
“What do you need, little Tam?”
She smiled as Sam lifted her wrist and kissed the inside of it softly. “To remember, I’m not alone. I’m not always sane,” she whispered, steeping back and fading into the stars around him, “but I’m not alone.”
Sam watched her go with an ache in his heart and opened his eyes to stare at the stars above him. He was sitting on top of the Impala’s hood, Dean asleep at his side as they camped out in the middle of no where, too tired to drive on to the next town.
He looked at his sleeping form and took a deep breath as he leaned back, taking comfort from his brother’s warmth.
“No,” he whispered softly. “You’re not alone.”