Witching Hour | Winchester

Thirty

Sam lies there, staring at Roxanne's sleeping face. They're in some motel room, and he can't sleep, as usual. It's probably sometime around three in the morning, and he finds that studying her features helps keep him calm.

Her eyes are closed, but that seems to be the only peaceful thing about her. There's a crease between her eyebrows, and a few freckles decorate her slender button nose. His eyes drift back up to that scar in her eyebrow, and he briefly wonders how she got it. It slants diagonally through her brow, and now that he has the chance to look a little more closely, he sees that the scar runs up a tiny bit past the top of it onto her forehead.

Her full lips are pressed together, and a single dark wave of her hair falls against them. There's a barely noticeable scar on the side of her neck, and his eyes trail down a little further. Her collarbone is prominent, but not too sharp. Just like the rest of her, it's rough but somehow still soft. She's simultaneously the kind of woman that hunts with deadly accuracy and the kind that would cook his favorite meal for him after a long day at work... if they were normal.

She stirs briefly before settling back in. She tucks her hand under her cheek, and another strand of hair falls into her face. With a soft, fond smile, he brushes it away. He comes back for the bangs that she always pushes to the side, revealing the slightly puckered scar from the gash she got at that asylum in Rockford. Dean had done a pretty good job stitching her up, but it was still a fairly nasty scar.

He both loves and hates that scar. He hates it because even though it's easy to hide, it's one more thing to marr her beautiful face. However, he loves it because she got it working a case with them. It's selfish, sure, but it's a reminder of that case. A reminder to him that she was there. Hopefully, it's a permanent reminder to her that she was there. That way, even if they're not together some day, she'll think of the Winchesters when she looks in the mirror. She'll think of him when she looks in the mirror.

Again, he knows it's selfish.

His eyes fall to the scar on her left shoulder, roughly the size and shape of the blade of a knife. She's never told him about it, about getting stabbed. But he assumes that's what happened. He breathes in as his gaze lowers to her chest, where a cross necklace rests, trapped between the pillows and her skin. It's a Celt's cross, and he noticed her wearing it shortly after she gave him her old pendant. His fingers reach up absently to the two axes, the amulet that still hangs around his own neck.

She had told him that it was a protective amulet, one passed down to her from her father. And, though he wasn't her blood, she gave it to him without a second thought, without hesitation. She would give him the shirt off her back if he needed it. She'd do it for anyone; that's just who she is. And it's one of the many things he loves about her.

His breathing hitches as he stares at the tiny mole on the side of her chest, just above the hem of her tank top. Her cleavage disappears under the white lace edge, and the thin strap has fallen off of her left shoulder. He doesn't remember seeing this top on her before, and he wonders if it's new. He wonders what it would be like to slip that strap off her shoulder himself. To trace that scar on her shoulder, to brush her hair away from it. To press a kiss to her collarbone.

He squeezes his eyes shut. This is Roxanne, his hunting partner. His business partner. He can't let his invasive thoughts get in the way, and he definitely can't be feeling the things he's feeling.

He doesn't know what's happened. Ever since that night two weeks ago, Roxanne was back in his bed without an explanation. He had missed her over the several weeks she had started bunking with Dean. She had returned as quickly as she had left, each time with no explanation. And though she seemed sad, and the air between the woman and his brother was tense, he couldn't help the excitement that coursed through his veins that first night after the fight.