Confetti It's A PARADE! Of Supernatural Imagines.

Too Little, Too Late Pt. 2

After you had driven away from the bunker, you let the road guide you, turning left or right with no particular destination in mind. Driving soothed you, along with the music softly playing on the radio, and soon your tears dried up.

About fours into your drive, you pulled into a small gas station, filling up your car, and grabbing some snacks. While you were waiting in line to pay, you felt the phone in your pocket vibrate. Ignoring it, you paid, and headed out to your car, pulling the phone out of your pocket and glancing at it, hoping you would see a missed call or text from Sam.

You knew it was a stupid hope, but your heart still broke when the only texts you had received were from Dean, not Sam.
Please keep in touch. Let me know you're safe

That was the last one, and you answered it, telling him you were safe, telling him goodbye. Your heart in your throat, you kissed the phone before dropping it in the trash next to your car. It was a hard decision, but you knew that in order to move on with your life you needed to break ties with everything.

Two weeks later
Sam's P.O.V.

"Dean?" I said, standing at the doorway of his bedroom, not sure I would be welcomed inside. Ever since that night two weeks ago our relationship had been strained, and I didn't blame him for being mad at me. I've had a lot of time to think over things, and I knew I had been a jerk, and had acted harshly.

"What?" Dean answered, never looking up from the computer in front of him.

Sighing, I stepped inside, and ran my diners through my hair. The act of frustration had him looking up, finally noticing how upset I was. "Have you heard from Y/N?"

He shook his head, a frown upon his lips. "No, she texted me goodbye that night, and must have dumped her phone. I haven't heard from her sense."

My heart dropped at this news. I had been so sure that Y/N would have been in contact with Dean, he was her best friend, and this must be hurting him. "Dean, I know what I did was wrong, but I don't know how to fix it. Especially now."

Dean sat up straighter then, actually interested in the conversation for the first time. "Finally.  I was wondering how long it would take you to get your head out of your ass. But it might be too late." He warned.

Your P.O.V.

The first couple of days you had been miserable, living in crappy motel rooms, surviving on whiskey and stale chips that you had bought the first day. You stayed in bed, sleeping away the pain, your pillow usually wet from tears.

By the fourth day, you realized that sitting around feeling sorry for yourself wasn't going to bring Sam back. So you cleared the room out, getting rid of the empty bottles laying around.

Taking care of yourself was next, and you climbed into the shower, taking as long and hot of a shower as the water heater would allow. Finally feeling like yourself, you went out, and using your fake credit cards got yourself a new laptop, along with new ammo, and some decent food for once.

Feeling like a new person, you had started looking for jobs, and that's how your last week had gone. Travelling from one state to the next, you took easy jobs, ones that you were sure you could handle, ones that you were sure you wouldn't run into Sam and Dean.

Even though you were hunting, and living as normally as you could, seeing Sam again could mess up everything you had worked so hard for recently. And you weren't ready to give up your new found freedom.

Sam P.O.V

"Wait, I think I found something!" I yelled, slamming on my hand on the table in excitement. Dean came over from where he was sitting on the motel bed.