Supernatural Imagines [ABANDONED]

Promise?

Sam x Reader

*Gender Neutral*

~

"What's this?" You asked, looking at the small wrapped box. It had been exactly a year since Sam asked you out, and you were celebrating with a movie and cuddles night. "I thought we said no gifts."

He looked down. "Well, given the connotations of it, I wouldn't really call it a gift."

You gave him a sideways look, knowing he was going on technicality. "Sam-"

"Just open it," He cut you off. You glanced at him warily again, but gently picked off the ribbon and the wrapping paper. You lifted the lid of the velvet box and gasped because holy shit it's a ring. It was simple-there wasn't even a stone, but the 'implications of it,' as he had put it, made you slightly apprehensive. "Sam-"

"Let me talk," he interrupted. "I'm not proposing, I know how uncomfortable that would make you and honestly it's pretty stupid at this point." He grabbed the ring from the box and gently slid it on your finger. You felt every millimeter if his skin on yours with hypersensitivity as you stared at him, breathing heavily. "I want this to be a promise." Sam continued. "That we'll always be there for each other, always love each other."

He places his other hand on top of yours, staring intensely into your eyes. "Promise?"

You blink away the tears of happiness at the edges of your eyes and nod. "Promise," you whisper.

~

You lay across the musty couch, fiddling with the chain around your neck. You're lost in the memory as you stare up at the ceiling, letting the ring dance between your fingers. You can almost feel the electricity of his hands on yours, the sparks flying through the kiss. You rack your brain, trying to figure out where you'd lost that electricity, that spark.

Sam is gone. He's been gone for a while. After the two of you decided that you'd grown apart, you both got sick of the guilt and the staring and the discomfort so Sam grabbed his brother, his shotgun, and everything that had ever made you happy and...left.

You roll over, tearing your gaze from the mysterious stain on the ceiling. You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands, trying to quit dwelling and moping because it's been a year and you're still stuck on this. You had thought you'd moved on, gotten a new boyfriend, stopped thinking about Sam, until you realized that you hadn't moved for hours except to toy with the stupid fucking ring.

Maybe it's because today is the one year anniversary of the breakup, maybe it's because nothing about it seemed final. No dishes were thrown, no curses were spat. Hell, you'd kept living with him for another month and a half after you officially called it off. It seemed...wrong. Incomplete. Like some idiot who controlled the universe had lost the last puzzle piece and you were stuck turning over furniture trying to find it before the dog ate it or someone vacuumed it up and it was too late to fix it.

Your cell phone rang and you ignored it, too busy yelling at yourself over and over again at how pathetic it was that you were still pining over a guy that walked-no-skipped out of your life a year ago. What would your boyfriend think if he came back to the motel room and saw you like this? He'd think you're pathetic and worthless because you are and shut the fuck up you incessant thing. You grab the phone and press the button. "What?" you bark curtly.

"(Y/N)," comes the answer, and you're in shock because it's the second to last voice you want to hear right then. "Don't hang up on me," Dean says just as you're about to press the end call button. "I know you really don't want to hear from either of us, especially today..." Dean trails off and after a moment clears his throat. "But this is urgent." You don't say anything. Dean takes a deep breath. "It's Sam."

~

"Demon blood, Sam?" He jumps and spins around, a mixture of guilt and fear on his face. "That's a little fucked up, even for you."

"(Y/N)," he breathes.

"Hey," you say, leaning against the door frame of Bobby's living room. Sam's standing between the desk and the sofa, body half turned away like he's ready to bolt.

Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep, tired breath. "Dean sent you?" he asks, avoiding looking at you.

"He was right to," you reply. "Someone needed to talk some sense into you." You step towards him slowly. "So, you some demon's bitch now? Or are you not into that kind of thing?" You don't know where the bitter words are coming from, but you regret them as soon as they leave your lips.

"Shut up," Sam snaps, and his tone makes you freeze because it's like he's not even the same person. There's something twisted in his eyes-something twisted and wrong and distinctly not-Sam.

Your movements are cautious as you creep towards him again. "I get it," you say. "I went too far."

Sam turns away, his body tense with...something. Anger? Frustration? Guilt? You can't tell. His fists curl and uncurl, itching for something that's again unidentifiable. You're scared that he's going to snap again, yet you gently place your hand on his tense shoulder and say what you made a trip across five and a half states for: "But so have you." Your voice is slight, tentative, but not quite a whisper.

Sam turns around to face you, and the expression on his face leaves you in quiet shock. His face is blank, but you can see the sadness seeping in at the edges. The light in his hazel eyes is snuffed out, the permanent almost-laugh gone from his lips. His shoulders are no longer tense, but slumped in defeat, and you almost melt at how broken he looks. He's seen and done too much, and it's breaking him.

"Why are you here?" he says, a pessimistic, self-deprecating edge to his voice.

You're slightly taken aback, but you manage, "Dean-"

"Sent you, I know," he cuts you off. "But you didn't have to come." He turns around now, an almost urgent get out of here tinge to his voice. "You don't have any obligation, any connection to me anymore. So-"

This time, it's you who cuts him off, and now it's you who's angry.

"I don't have any obligation to you? Sam that's bullshit!" You yank the golden chain out from under your shirt and dangle the ring in front of his face. His face drops and you falter, but not for long. "You left, Sam. I moved on, but I never stopped caring about you, and I never broke my promise."

You move towards him and cup his face in your hands. "I'm here for you, and I'm going to help you," you say with conviction. he nods and before you know it, his head is buried in the crook of your neck, and you're rocking back and forth until he calms down.

You pull back and grip his shoulders, am encouraging smile on your face. His eyes flick to and from your lips, and his tongue darts out to wet his own. He starts to lean in, but you jerk back. "Don't," you whisper.

He looks sad for a moment, but nods and turns away. He rubs his face in irritation before saying, "I'm gonna get better."

You choke out a laugh. "Promise?"

He's startled for a second, but answers with a smile, "Promise."

~

And then he doesn't.

I'm not even sorry.

This is short and lame but it's all I got.

500 READS IM SO HAPPY ILY ALL.

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~Faulcn