Sam was slowly killing himself hunting with Dean. After Jess died from whatever demon killed her—and his mom years ago—he never wanted to find love ever again.

He was sick of loosing people he loved.

So he shut everyone out. Everyone but Dean. And that was until they came Louisiana and met you.

God, if you weren’t the most beautiful woman Sam had ever laid eyes on, he didn’t know who was.

Your hair, your eyes, everything about you radiated positive and kind energy. Which is why Sam slowly started to become a bit more himself around you.

They needed help with a car they were working on, which is where you came into play. They didn’t want to drag you in—no, Sam didn’t want to drag you into this case. He didn’t think someone so kind and sweet deserved this kind of life.

You laughed at his accent, the standard American one, laughed at everything he did really. It wasn’t like your southern ways you’ve learned ever since you were little. And God, that accent. It was a slice of heaven gave to him, only making you more attractive. What did he do to deserve THIS?

And now, somehow, you ended up dragging Sam down to the water on the beach you live on. White sand, a nice breeze, and he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

The gulf breeze in your hair, laying on the cool sand, he felt like he was born again in Dixieland. He never wanted to leave.

As you sit down, the beach chairs pulled up a bit too far for your liking so you both sat near the water, the splashes of it just reaching your painted toes.