She always knew how to find him. Sam wasn’t sure how, but she always knew where he was. Before he took the plunge, he often wondered how she always knew which motel he and Dean were staying at and how the hell she’d gotten there when they had left her at Bobby’s so she’d be safe. Either way, the majority of the time she’d end up curled up against his side in bed, her head tucked against his shoulder in sleep with a serene expression on her face. And he’d watch her sleep and wonder while Dean snored away in the next bed.

One time, she woke up and peered up at him through her lashes before smiling softly. She planted a light kiss just below his collar bone and then snuggled in closer. “I feel you, Sam.” She replied to his unasked question, saying it as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “I just feel you.”

He never quite understood what that meant. Not before he said yes to Lucifer and left her behind.

But now, as he stood on the sidewalk in Pasadena, California; he started to understand. At first, he had chalked up the feeling to a bad chicken Caesar salad he’d had for lunch. The way his heart beat faster and the strange churning in his stomach made it clear that something wasn’t right. He had thought about calling Dean and asking to switch assignments before he needed a toilet like a lifeline. But the pain never came. Nor did the sick feeling. Just the feeling of unease in his gut. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He was being watched.

He frowned to himself, confused as to why he feeling what he was feeling as he took his phone out of his pocket to call Dean. He glanced around quickly, taking a quick look at the quaint boutiques and restaurants that lined the street before calling Dean, just to make sure. He felt paranoid and shifted on his feet as he waited for his older brother to pick up.

“What’ve you got, Sammy?” Dean answered with a question and for a moment Sam was reminded that he was actually working a job right now. And he had to get his head in the game.

“Uh…” He cleared his throat, shifted again, “Nothing at the victim’s house. No Sulfur, EMF or even ectoplasm.. I was gonna head to the morgue to take a look at the body, but-“

“But what?” Dean cut him off, sounding like he wanted to rush him off the phone. Sam furrowed his brow and listened for a moment.

Very faintly, he could hear the sound of a car insurance commercial in the background.

“Dean, are you watching TV?”

Dean was silent for a moment. “…No.” It was a horrible attempt at a lie.

“Dean,” Sam sighed and turned on the sidewalk, glancing around again, “You’re supposed to be looking for similar deaths in the area, not watchi-“

That’s when he saw her. Or at least it looked like her. She was sitting at a table at an outdoor restaurant. And she was staring right at him. Not glancing in his direction. Not looking into space. She was looking directly at him, eyes leveled right on him like two laser points on sniper rifles.

Sam felt a chill run through him. And he knew what she meant. He had felt her. But he hadn’t known that it was her until now. And somehow, she had managed to find him again.

He knew that he should have called her when he got his soul back. Hell, he had wanted to. But Dean said that she was better off with the both of them making her already complicated life more complicated. And Sam hadn’t seen her in almost two years since he jumped into Lucifer’s cage. He had figured that Dean was right. She was better off without them. And without him.

“Sam? You there?” Dean was in his ear, sounding concerned all of the sudden, “Sammy?”

“I-i-I’m here, Dean.” His tone was distracted because he was watching her watching him and the look on her face was so… Cold. They continued staring at each other for a good long moment as Dean talked in his ear, trying to get Sam to tell him what the hell was happening. Sam, meanwhile, was trying to think of what he was going to do. Should he go over and talk to her? Or maybe he should beckon her over so they could go to a more private place? Maybe he should go over and just tell her to meet him at his motel room with Dean?

“Sam!” Dean’s voice -louder from frustration and worry- pulled him from his thoughts.

“Uh… It-“

Suddenly, she stood from the table and Sam’s voice caught in his throat. It was definitely her. Even if she had moved in a crowd, he’d have known it was her because there wasn’t anyone else on earth who could move like she did. Even when she was just wandering around aimlessly, twirling around on her tip toes or running over to him to throw herself into his arms after he and Dean returned from a hunt there was always something about how she moved. There were times when he was working and she was laying in bed, where just her shifting to turn over would drive him crazy. The way her legs slid against one another and the hem of her dress rode up just so…

And she was there, standing almost fifty feet away from him. He could just walk over and-

“Sam…” Sam could almost see the stern look on his brother’s face through the phone and he cleared his throat, his eyes still on her form.

“It’s… It’s River.”

Dean was silent, letting a beat pass as that particular piece of information sunk in. Sam could only assume that Dean knew what that meant for him. He watched River narrow her eyes almost suspiciously. Then, she started backing away.

“She’s-she’s there?”

“Well.. Sort of.” He replied. She was walking away from him now… Well, more like stalking away from him. It was the sort of walk that had purpose and it wasn’t like her usual gait; or what her usual gait had been when last he’d seen her. For all he knew, that angry sort of walk could have been how she walked all the time now. And It was likely that it was partly his fault. A pang of guilt shot through him at that thought.

“Sort of?” Asked Dean in a dubious tone. Sam’s brows furrowed and he looked away from River for one moment as he tried to think of a way to explain that. He could very well say that she was walking away. But Dean would just tell him to do the same. That they’d deal with her later when there weren’t bigger fish to fry. But he didn’t want to walk away from her. He glanced back up at her retreating form only to find that she had turned back to look at him. And there was one thing that was disturbingly clear to him as their eyes met.

“I think… I think I’m supposed to follow her.”

Dean immediate took charge. “Sam, no. Do not follow her. You don’t know whe-“

“I’ll call you back, Dean.” He wasn’t even listening anymore.

“Sam!” He barely heard Dean say his name as he hung up. He stuffed the phone back into his trouser pocket. Then, he started after her at a quick pace. That turned into a run when she rounded the corner. But somehow, he just knew that even if he lost sight of her, he’d still know where to find her. Just as she had always known where to find him.

2 weeks ago

· lucy hale · aria montgomery · pretty little liars · idk I just think she looks fucking gorge in this episode · and right there · my gifs · 14 ·

1 month ago

via / ©

jaredpadaleckiandsummerglau:

“You came for me.”

· otp · my gifs · 28 ·

1 month ago

via / ©

jaredpadaleckiandsummerglau:

It’s not something either of them can explain.

River hears the music faintly -but not with her ears- and it pulls her in. She itches for the familiar way music runs through her and the one, two, three of moving feet to the rhythm. Dancing had always been something she excelled at- not just because she excelled at everything but because she had a passion for it. She was free to move and express herself while she was dancing and while she had never really been oppressed at home, dance could free the freest soul and bring joy to the happiest heart; and that’s what she had missed so dearly and why she needed it so badly.

As she moves through the jubilant dancers, counting their steps and committing them to memory, she can keep a pull in the back of her mind. As if the little red string of fate is tug, tug, tugging her in one direction as she’s going in another. She can’t be bothered to turn and go after it, not when the dance in front of her is so beautiful and complex and-oh, it is best danced with a partner, she quickly figures out. But the pull is still there and it’s distracting her so she pulls back. She keeps pulling until it stops pulling her and she can feel something coming. Something important. Or is it someone?

Meanwhile, Sam doesn’t know why he’s drawn to the pavilion, just that he has to go there because there was something- someone- there that he has to see. The music piques his interest for sure but his head’s throbbing and it does nothing to help. He wants to just walk away from the sound and the sun because god his head hurts, but he keeps going.

He has no idea where he’s going and Dean’s expecting a wave from him any moment to check in but he can’t very well tell his older brother that he’s going to a pavilion with music in a park because he thinks he has to. Because, yeah, that wouldn’t fly with Dean. Not when they’re in the middle of working a case with their father. No, especially not then.

Nonetheless, Sam keeps going and when he’s about 50 feet away from the clapping and laughing and the music, he spots her in the fray of dancers on the stage. A small girl dressed in pink with black combat boots. She catches his attention as he tries to rub away the pain in his temple and for some reason he just can’t take his eyes off her. She turns in a circle and her eyes catch and hold his gaze for a second as a tingle runs down his spine. Up on the stage, the same feeling lances through River and the the little red string of fate pulls taut in his direction.

She sees now. She understands. He’s what’s important; what was coming. And he’s going to dance with her. She can feel it. She just knows it. She can’t explain it.

Sam sees her glance (almost knowingly) at him again and before he knows what’s happening, he’s walking again. The pain is his head ebbs away the closer he gets to the girl and his bag drops from his shoulder at one point but he doesn’t bother to look back.

He doesn’t know the steps to the dance but he has the urge to get up on stage anyway. He has the urge to ask her to dance, to talk to her and know who she is. Because he has a feeling that she’s important to him. Or she will be. And he can’t explain why.