Safe Harbor

Safe Harbor

A Supernatural story by Jennie @DeanIsntFine

GIFs by Starsmish on Tumblr.

“It was a mistake,” Sam said and signed, as Eileen broke down, cracks showing in her armor. She melted into his arms, and he rested his chin atop her head, his hand in her hair.

He felt handcuffed, helpless. He didn’t know what he could do, or say, to ease her pain. A mistake. One of hundreds that could happen to any hunter, not to mention any of the very real hazards of the job. Teeth. Claws. Blades.

Bullets.

Dagon had vanished just as Eileen had taken her shot with the Colt, and the round had slammed into Renny instead.

“He wasn’t a monster,” Eileen had said. Sam guessed the jury was still out on that one. Mick had been ready to summarily execute Eileen for her mistake. Luckily, Sam and Dean were there to stop him.

And Mick seemed to be having a crisis of conscience. Who knew where that would lead?

For now, Sam stilled his thoughts and simply held her. That was something he could do.

***

After Eileen had regathered her strength, and Dean had gone to bed, she and Sam sat at the war room table, talking. His ASL was so rusty, and his hapless, hopeless signing lightened the mood.

The rapidly dwindling bottle of scotch did the rest.

When their eyes met, and then their lips, it seemed to take them both by surprise. There was a moment then, a breathless pause, when they could have walked away. Awkwardly, yes, but no bridges burned. No harm. No foul. Things could have gone back to the way they’d been.

But then she took his hand, and intertwined his fingers with her own. Her eyes never left his. She rose from the table, drew him up with her, and led him down the bunker hall to his room.

***

He knew her. They had become friends. He knew she was tough as nails, and whip smart, with a biting wit. But all of that faded now, and in the dim light Sam saw only the soft edges, the rounded curves.

She knew him. There weren’t any secrets. She wasn’t there to corrupt him. She wouldn’t bring him pain.

They could bring each other peace.

She was hurting; he could help. It seemed like he was always hurting -- all he'd been through, all he'd put Dean through, always haunting his thoughts.

But for those few glorious hours, his mind went quiet, and he drank in her scent, the sensations.

There was no urgency. It wasn’t about hunger.

And there were no illusions. They both knew what was out there. But as the night passed, their pain slipped away with the outside world. And it was just the two of them.

They’d made a safe harbor for themselves, and for each other.

***

Eileen slept, nestled in the crook of Sam’s arm, her long, dark hair tossed across his shoulder.

She slept untroubled, and he was glad for it.

He felt languid, and loose, but not ready for rest.

In the dark, his thoughts churned.

This was different. With Eileen. Something was different.

He felt unburdened, he realized. Lighter. It wasn’t just the physical release. He’d achieved that lots of times, with lots of women. Jess. Madison.

And Ruby, his mind whispered. He shuddered and shook off the thought.

At Stanford, he’d tried so hard to be normal, and Jess, the tall, beautiful blonde, ticked off every box. He’d loved her, even though doubt still gnawed at him over Azazel and Brady’s role in kindling their relationship.

He’d loved her. But who was he then? Who was she in love with? An angry boy running from his father? A puppet dancing on a demon’s strings?

Jess wouldn’t love who he was today. And it was possible that Sam couldn’t love her either.

Madison… well, that was animal attraction. Literally, as it turned out. She’d struck him as so brave, though. Smart. Funny. But tragic. In the end, she was just someone else he couldn’t save.

Like Sarah.

Oh, classy move, Winchester, he thought. Now is really *not* the time to replay your greatest hits.

Eileen stirred and sighed, and Sam buried his face in her hair, breathing deep.

Eileen didn’t need saving.

As the realization hit him, a soft smile crossed his lips.

You don’t … ever want something more? he’d asked Dean last year, riding in the front seat, after a memorable night in the back. Not marriage or, whatever... But... something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

Someone who understands the life, Sam thought now. Who not only understood it, but had lived it. Felt the losses. Carried the burden.

She’d once been hungry for revenge, as he had been.

She’d turned that mission into a calling, as he had.

She’d made mistakes. God knew he’d made his share, and more.

Still, she’d embraced what she was meant to be. So had he.

Legacies.

Smiling again in the dark, Sam slept.

***

In the morning, Sam was at his laptop when Dean came into the library.

Sam asked about Cas. Still no word.

Dean looked around. “Where's Eileen?”

“She took off. Uh, said she's heading back to Ireland for a while. Just needs some time, I guess.”

Sam felt so transparent. He knew he couldn’t hide much from his brother.

“Mm. Yeah,” Dean said. “I get that.”

Sam had been composing a note to Eileen… something probably too gushy, too schoolboy, to ever actually send. He’d already started and deleted about a dozen drafts.

To distract his brother, Sam handed over the Colt.

Dean sighted down the barrel. “Ah. Welcome back, sweetheart,” he said.

Sam felt like he’d dodged a bullet.

As Dean buffed the metal of the old gun, he gave Sam the side-eye.

“So, what’d you kids get up to last night?”

Sam looked up, cheeks burning, dimples denting. “Nothing,” he sputtered. “I mean, we had a few drinks…”

“Relax, Sammy. I’m just messing with ya.”

Dean placed the gun gently on the library table. He caught his brother’s eyes.

“It’s good,” Dean said. “Someone who gets it, right? Someone in the life?” Dean nodded, mostly to himself. “It’s good,” he said again.

Sam swallowed, relieved. He nodded too.

Dean rapped his knuckles once on the table, almost as if he’d made a ruling on the matter. Sam smiled.

“You hungry?” Dean asked. “You look hungry. I’m starved. I’m gonna make us some breakfast.”

He trotted down the steps and headed toward the kitchen.

Sam watched him go, then closed the laptop, giving up on the letter. He wasn’t going to be able to sort out his feelings in one message, or one day, anyway.

Eileen was back out there, and he was already worried.

But a little worry was good, right? Worry just meant there was something there to lose.