Who: Sam Winchester and Derpy Hooves When: Mid-June Where: Deryn’s place What: Talking about dreams Rating/Warnings: low Status: Complete when posted
Sam Winchester was feeling guilty. He’d been avoiding the woman he was head over heels for, and for a really stupid and shitty reason. Stupid dreams. Percy suggested he turn to her for support, and he should have listened. Instead, like an idiot, he spent a few days avoiding the one shining light in his hectic life.
Finally, he came to her place, and sheepishly knocked on the front door.
Deryn answered the door after the customary minute wait that she usually managed. Running indoors: never a good idea. She blinked, surprised to see Sam standing there. Really, she’d just assumed he was in a poor mood and keeping to himself this week. “Hi, Sam,” she said, smiling brightly as ever. “C’mon in.”
“Hi.” Well, Deryn was quite a bit smarter than a lot of people (not Sam, obv.) gave her credit for. She knew he was in a mood. And he appreciated that she wasn’t holding it against him. It was more understanding than he thought he would have given himself. “Thanks.” He said, then stepped through the doorway. He waited for the door to be closed behind him before turning to wrap her up into his arms and hug her tightly against his chest.
She was just easy like that, she supposed. Deryn didn’t need to be with someone every minute of every day in order to love them, and if they said they needed space, she wouldn’t take it to heart -- she’d just let them have what they needed. Anything over a week and she might have visited with muffins in hand for appeasement.
So? She hugged him back, and it was a good, tight hug for someone so tiny. “How are you?”
“Better now.” Sam admitted, still holding her close. He didn’t want to let go. But finally he did, releasing her a little and taking one of her hands in his. “I’m sorry I was drunk and I’m sorry I haven’t been back.”
“It’s okay,” Deryn gave a little smile, as if to show that she really thought it was. “You were having a hard time of things. It happens to everyone.” Even her, although it was terribly rare. “And you were kinda cute drunk.” If not a bit sloppier.
Sam gave a little chuckle as relief washed through him. She wasn’t mad. That was good. He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you think I was.” Though, he went a little pink. “I didn’t do anything embarrassing while I was here?” Besides initiate sex and then pass out?
Yeahhhh, that had happened. Deryn might have thought it more embarrassing had there been passing out during actual sex though, so let that one pass. “Not really,” she said with a shrug, leading him into her kitchen. “I mean, you were weird, but it was mostly funny.” She flashed another grin.
Sam chuckled again. "So long as I didn't make you angry or sad." He was a little paranoid about making her feel weird, especially since he was about to confess his dreams to her.
She gave him a look that was nearly sardonic before she sat him down at her little kitchen island and then started rummaging through her fridge. She was sure she had muffins. And some leftovers. “Nope. It was okay.” She paused to glance at him. “What’s up, Sam?”
“The dreams.” Sam said, then gave a sigh and lifted his hands to run through his hair. Now was the time. He wasn’t even sure how to start. ‘I drink demon blood in my dreams because I’m a monster’ didn’t seem like a good conversation opener. “They’re bad. Really bad.”
Deryn poured him a glass of lemonade, settling that and a strawberry muffin down in front of him. “What happens in them?”
“I’m pretty much a monster.” Sam said, wrapping both of his large hands around the glass of lemonade. He couldn’t look into her eyes as he spoke, but at least he was finally telling her the truth. “I do good things, but I do them in a bad way. I’ve made so many mistakes. It’s all just... rock and a hard place.”
Deryn scooted herself up onto the stool across from Sam (why someone so short would buy high stools was a question to be asked later, perhaps), and held lemonade glass between two hands. “Tell me about it?”
Sam took a long moment, then turned to face her, finally. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Deryn rose her eyebrows, and blinked wide eyes. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” she said rather simply.
After staring into her eyes for a moment, Sam nodded once. He cleared his throat, set the lemonade aside, and started to tell her about his adventures in the dreams. About his mother’s death, the yellow-eyed demon, taking over ‘the family business’ and travelling with Dean. He explained about being special, about the door to hell opening. He didn’t give her a whole lot of time to interject as he went on to talk about Dean’s crossroads deal to bring him back to life, then Dean’s death, and how he couldn’t save or bring back his brother. And then he paused.
The next bit, the bit with Ruby and the demon blood, that was hard to explain.
Deryn, amazingly, stayed more or less silent for Sam’s descriptions of his dreams, only making little noises to prompt him on every now and then.
When he paused, she stood up to refill his drink. “Go on.” His dreams sounded sad, and a little scary. But not bad in the way he described. He tried to do good, anyway.
Sam cleared his throat again and turned his eyes down to the untouched Strawberry muffin in front of him. After a moment, he went on. “With Dean gone... I tried everything to get him back.” He closed his eyes. “No one would take a deal. The crossroads demons wouldn’t even talk to me. So... I fell in with the wrong crowd.”
He went on to talk about Ruby, drinking blood, exercising demons with the power of his mind. He talked about the Angels and the Demons, about the seals being broken, his and Dean’s being puppets in the war between Lucifer and the Angels, and how all along he was “training” with Ruby. Drinking her blood. Growing more and more powerful.
And then the final seal. Killing Lilith. Breaking the seal and starting the apocalypse. And it was all Sam’s fault.
It was quite the story. Deryn was sure that it’d have to have gone on for a few seasons quite a few dreams. At the very least. She was a little surprised he hadn’t really spoken of it before. “I’m sorry your dreams are so bad, Sam,” she said, picking at her own muffin, but not really eating it. “But it really does sound like you do things with good intentions. It’s not like you’re trying to be a bad person.”
Sam had been Dreaming for what felt like months. He’d Dreamed years worth, and for the most part he’d been able to sort of push things out of his mind... but for some reason the last few Dreams were just... getting to him.
“You’re right, I’m not trying to be a bad person in the Dreams. But sometimes.. I just... bad things happen. And there’s nothing I can do.” He shrugged softly. “And sometimes they happen because of me.”
The little blonde rested her chin on the palm of her hand and looked a little sympathetic for him. “What are you going to do about it?” There was nothing to do about the dreams, obviously. But they were bothering him in real life. Surely there was a way to fix that.
“I... I don’t know.” Sam had a couple of theories. One of them, which was probably the best one, was also sort of the hardest to swallow. “Maybe I should go talk to someone.” Like a psychiatrist.
“Like a psychiatrist?” Hey, he’d been thinking it, but she was the one to say it. She clearly did not seem to think there were any inherent problems with that considering she just rose her eyebrows up and then gave a little smile. “Might help, you know.”
“Yeah. Might. That’s what I was thinking. A psychiatrist, or a psychologist or a counselor...” He had access to several through his workings at the law firm. The ‘court ordered’ ones were just as good as anyone else, and took patients who weren’t required by law to be there, too. “Someone to just sit and listen. Sometimes it feels good to babble, whether or not they give me any input.” But input was good, too.
She could sit and listen if he wanted, but she assumed he thought she’d judge him. Deryn also kind of assumed that when people spoke of their worries that she should have something encouraging to say, although this was not always the case. It was quite difficult sometimes to actually try and make something up.
“It’s a good idea. Especially if you’re so stressed about it that you need to avoid people for a whole week.” Not accusatory, just concerned.
Sam lifted his eyes to her face again. “Oh, Deryn, I’m sorry,” he said, feeling guilty for being away for so long. He reached one hand forward to take hold of hers across the table. “...I was scared at first. Then embarrassed. Or maybe embarrassed, then scared, then embarrassed again.”
Deryn laughed at that, reaching out until their fingers were twined together. Her smile was bright again, a near laugh on her lips. “I do stupid things all the time.” Enough where people thought she actually was stupid. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed.”
Sam gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm here now. And not drunk." He offered, sounding hopeful. Maybe they could cuddle and talk. Or put music on and dance. Or play a board game, or watch tv. He wasn't pushing for anything more tonight. He just wanted to be with her.
They could do all of those things if he really wanted to -- Deryn might even try her hardest to do most of them at once. “You are. And you’re right.” She giggled over that one and then wiggled up in her seat to lean over the island to steal a kiss.
Sam returned the kiss, warm and friendly. Loving. Because he loved her. He was just confused and scared, and didn’t want to turn into a monster. Could anyone really blame him? He squeezed her hand once more, then climbed off of his stool and tugged her up onto her feet. His giant arms wrapped around her for a tight hug. “Thank you.” He whispered, holding her close.
She hugged him back, standing on tip toes just to be in a good position for it. Really, he was just so tall. But he really did give nice hugs. “Of course,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing ever -- like it was just no bother at all. And really, it wasn’t one. “Wanna watch a movie?”