supernatural one-shots [requests closed] UNDER EDITING

[AstralShadows] sam winchester || you need a soul to love

|| edited
// explicit content \\

     Your cell phone vibrates and you answer the call without checking the I.D. "What's up, Bobby?" It was never anyone but him these days; the only other people who used to call you were the Winchesters. And now Sam was in hell, and Dean had gone MIA.

     "(Y/N)? Where are you?" Bobby's twang is thick with urgency.

     "South Dakota. Why?"

     "You need to get over here. Now."

-|-

     You knock on Bobby's back door. "Bobby? You there?"

     His face appears behind the screen and he opens the door, giving you a wary look. "Hey, (Y/N). Look-"

     "What's the case?" you say nonchalantly, pushing past the man and walking into the kitchen. "Had to have been a good one, right? For you to call me out here. You usually call Dean and..." Your voice trails off. You always subconsciously forget what happened to Sam.

     "It's not a case, (Y/N)," he says, following you into the kitchen. You stick your head in his refrigerator and emerge with a beer. "But it is going to be hard."

     You pop the top and take a swig. "Where're you going with this? Out of all the hunters I've worked with, I'd never expect you to be the one to tell me I'm not tough enough. I thought you believed in me, Bobby." You smile as you tease him.

     "It's not that, girl, I told you it's not a case!" Bobby growls exasperatedly. His attitude surprises you and you realize the gravity of whatever's going on. Your smile disappears and you listen intently to what Bobby tells you next. 

     "To be honest... It's pretty tough to grasp. Come on, let me just show you." He begins to walk towards his living room. You raise an eyebrow but follow him, leaving your beer on the kitchen counter.

     You walk into the living room and your stomach clenches together. "Dean," you say stiffly. The man, who used to be one of your closest friends, stands rigidly in the middle of the room, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. "What're you doing here?"

     "He's not why I brought you here," says Bobby. "He is." He points at the doorway and your eyes follow.

     Sam stands in the doorway, tall, tan, and most importantly, alive. You stare in shock at the high rise and deep fall of his chest, certain that you're imagining the fact that he is standing before you and still breathing. This has to be a dream.

     "Sam?" you whisper, scared to move. If you move, you might wake up.

     "(Y/N)." 

     The sound of his voice sends your head careening, and you can't contain yourself anymore. You rush forward and wrap your arms around his neck. This time you feel the rise and fall of his chest, feel his breath on your neck, feel the warmth of his skin. He even smells the same. This is real. 

     "Sam," you whimper, tears streaming down your face. "I never thought... how?"

     "I don't know," he admits.

     You smile and put a hand on his cheek, guiding his face down to yours. All you can think about is that the love of your life is back from the dead.

     And then you think about the fact that the love of your life isn't even kissing you back.

     You pull away and eye him uncertainly. "Sam?" He stares blankly back at you, and you realize how different he seems... distant and detached...

     Hollow.

     "What's wrong?" you ask, panic creeping into your voice. "Sam?"

     Sam flushes an embarrassed color and looks at Bobby. "Can we have a second alone?" Bobby nods. Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Bobby steers him out of the room anyway.

     "What's wrong?" you repeat, panic creeping into your voice. What happened to him?

     "I don't know what you're talking about," Sam replies coolly.

     "Yeah right," you say defiantly. "If it were nothing, you wouldn't have sent everyone out. Why didn't you kiss me back?"

     Sam sighs and steps back from you, running a distressed hand through his long hair. His eyes dart around the room, looking at everything he can except you. "I don't know how to say this."

     "Is there someone else?" you press, tears springing in your eyes. You bite your bottom lip, determined not to let them fall.

     "No, there's not," he reassures you, and you relax a bit. He doesn't say anything else.

     "Then what is it? How long have you been back?"

     He takes a deep breath. "About a year."

     The surprise is almost a physical thing, and it almost knocks you down. "What the fuck, Samuel?" you demand, your voice rising. "And you didn't think to call me?"

     "I did, didn't I? Why else do you think you're here?" Sam points out.

     You roll your eyes. "Whatever. We'll talk about that later. What's wrong, Sam? Why did Bobby say there was an emergency?" Your voice breaks with your next question. "Why didn't you kiss me back?"

     He looks at you, his discomfort apparent. "(Y/N), ever since I've been back... I haven't really... felt anything."

     You blink a few times. What's that supposed to mean? "You haven't what?"

     "I haven't... like now, I should feel remorse, or sympathy, or sad, or just... something. But I don't. I don't feel anything."

     You stand still, just trying to breathe. After what feels like forever, you say quietly, "Well, I guess that's it." You turn to leave, but Sam rushes forward and grabs your arm.

     "No! Don't!" He looks at you, wide-eyed. "Why?"

     You can't help but laugh, amazed that he doesn't understand. "You really don't get it, do you?" 

     He raises his eyebrows in response. 

     "We can't be together anymore. Because what you just told me? You essentially told me that you don't feel, that you're not truly human, that you're... soulless."

     Sam pulls back at your words and you feel like he knows that he should be offended, but isn't.

     "You need a soul to love," you whisper, tears streaming down your face.

     It broke your heart to leave the man you loved so much, but what shattered you even more was how he didn't protest.