The Artist and the Hunter

Lillia Abbott was a bookaholic and musician (but only sang at coffee shops), and was seemingly normal, but when a series or murders begin, Lillia encounters the Winchesters, and demanding answers, causing her whole mundane life to change. (SamxOC)

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4. Chapter 4: Snowed in

Beep Beep Beep

 

I slung my arm over to grab my phone and stop the alarm I had set, but instead, my arm hit something else.

Or, rather, someone.

I cracked open my eyes to find Sam, lying on the floor beside me, just waking up, his arm around my waist while the other was beside his head.

“Good morning.” I mumbled, a bit awkwardly. Sam looked over at me and laughed.

“Good morning to you too. Nice bed head.” he commented, his voice hoarse from sleeping. My eyes widened, and I immediately brought my hand up to straighten out my hair. I didn’t think about it until he pointed it out.

Sam, though, laughed and took my wrist with his free hand, bringing it back down.

“Don’t. It’s adorable.” he commented, much more confidently than before. He wasn’t as shy now, and while he was cute when he was blushing and stuttering, I liked him this was too.

I blushed and snuggled back down into the pillows, burrowing my face into his side, while his arm tightened on my waist.

We laid there for a while in complete bliss. The TV had been turned off, so it was nice and quiet, and I didn’t have to worry about images burning onto my screen, although since it was Lord of the Rings, I wouldn’t have cared much anyway…

I was almost asleep again, when I heard a rumble coming from my stomach. I opened my eyes and looked down at it, but it did nothing except rumble again.

“Hungry?” Sam asked.

“Apparently.” I laughed. Sam sat up.

“Come on.” he stood up and held out his hands. I grabbed them and allowed him to pull me up, taking the blanket with me...i was freezing.

I wrapped the blanket around me and followed Sam to the kitchen, and we peered into the fridge.

Immediately, I slide underneath his arm, which was holding onto the fridge door, and grabbed the eggs before sliding back under and putting them on the counter. I then grabbed the orange juice for my unhealthy obsession for the beverage, and set it on the counter as well.

“Bacon?”
“Don’t have any.” I said. Sam looked at me. “Not a fan of bacon...or meat, really.”

Sam only nodded, before furrowing his brows.

“So what do you eat for breakfast, besides eggs?”

“Blueberry pancakes.”

“Really? Eggs and pancakes?” he asked. I shrugged.

“Why not?” I said, grabbing a box of pancake mix.

“And OJ?”

“And OJ.” I confirmed, smiling while getting down a bowl.

“Where are the glasses?” He asked.

“Right over there.” I pointed to a cabinet behind me, and he grabbed two cups, pouring some OJ in each one.

“Thank you, sir.” I said, taking a drink from mine immediately.

“So, are you a vegetarian?” Sam asked. I nodded.

“Yep.” I said.

“What about eggs? Aren’t they considered meat?” He asked. I shook my head.

“They’re a byproduct of the chicken, as gross as that may sound, so technically, not meat. So is dairy and things like that.” I clarified. Sam nodded, understanding. “Sorry I don’t have any bacon or anything.” I apologized, not knowing how he felt about it. He shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. If it were my brother, though, that would be a different story. I think he would risk the storm to get some kind of meat.” He joked. I laughed.

“Sounds like me and my sister. Can you hand me the eggs?”

Sam handed the carton to me, and helped make the pancakes. Before we knew it, breakfast was made.

“These are really good.” Sam said, taking a bite of the pancakes. I took a bite as well.

“They are.”

 

The rest of the day was uneventful. We still weren’t able to see the driveway, and Sam had called Dean, telling him that he was stuck, which Dean was too, more than likely, unless they were staying at a motel a couple of towns over. Then he might be fine.

“What did Dean say?” I asked. Sam shrugged.

“Nothing really. He’s stuck there, too, so…” He trailed off. I nodded.

“He doesn’t like me still, does he?” I asked. Sam sighed.

“He doesn’t know you as well as I do. Give him some time, he’ll warm up to you. Promise. We just won’t tell him about you being a vegetarian.” He laughed. I laughed too, but then a thought crossed my mind, causing me to frown.

“What about when you guys have to leave again? You travel a lot.”
Sam frowned too, and he looked away from me, thinking.

“Oh.” He said. “I...don’t know. I’m sure we can think of something, unless...you know…” He trailed off again, not knowing what to say. I knew what he meant, though.

“Yeah, I know. Long distance thing.” Sam nodded.

“Yeah.”

“I’m fine with it if you are.” I said, I knew it would be hard, but I would try. I really liked Sam, and I wasn’t going to just give up because of a few hundred silly miles. I mean, we didn’t have to see eachother everyday, did we? Our conversations were great, too, and I’m sure they could come around and visit every once in a while in between hunts, or if they are close to the area.
“Okay, Sure?” Sam asked. I would have wondered if he was having second thoughts, but when I looked at his face, I knew that I would have been lying. He wasn’t having second thoughts at all. He was concerned.

“Yeah.” I smiled assuringly, taking his hand with some odd, newfound courage that appeared out of nowhere. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He smiled back at me.

____________________________________________

“Oh come on, really?” I yelled at the TV. Sam was in the kitchen, making some lunch, while I stayed lazy on the couch watching television. I heard a laugh and paused my show, looking at Sam.

“What’s so funny?” I asked. He shook his head. “Tell me.”

“You. Do you always talk to your TV?” He asked.
“I don’t talk to my TV that much.”
“I beg to differ.” Sam carried two bags of chips and some dip into the living room, and put them on the coffee table, which had been moved back in front of the couch where it belonged some of the time. most of the time it was somewhere else where I either a) got tired of moving around it, so I moved it elsewhere or b) wanted to lay in the floor, which was a lot, because, hello, I’m a five year old. Sometimes it was the two combined.

I grabbed a chip from the light blue bag I asked him to get and he looked at me funny for the third or fourth time.
“You have some weird taste buds. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but...you have really weird taste buds.” He repeated laughing. I laughed too, offering a chip to him.

“Try it.”
“I don’t know if I want to. Salt and vinegar doesn’t sound like a good combination.”
“You never know.” I waved the chip in the air, and he looked at me, his eyes narrowed, before he took it from my fingers and ate it. I looked at him anxiously, and he chewed for a minute before grimacing.

“I was right. Those are….yeah no.” He pushed the bag towards me before taking the glass of milk he had brought with him and chugging it. I was laughing the whole time.

“I don’t see how you eat those one after the other...or at all.”
“They’re good.”
“To you maybe.” He said, shuddering. I chuckled.

And that’s how we spent our day. We talked and watched telly, and I hadn’t noticed that it had gotten late, until I felt my eyelids droop, and then fall, as I fell as well, into a deep sleep.

 

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