#or been a victim of love's blinders and emotional amplifiers and so on

[whiskeyswifty]

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[mrsalwayswrite]

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum Part 1 (Alfie Solomons x OFC)

So this was a cute one-shot that came to mind that somehow turned into a mini series. I’ll hopefully have the other parts up soonish (once they are written). 

I want to dedicate this piece to the most lovely @evelynshelby​ for inspiring and encouraging me to write an Alfie piece. (Btw, she has her own incredible stories that you should definitely follow.) This is my first time writing a fanfic piece for Peaky Blinders. I have always been too nervous to attempt it. So let me know if you think I did Alfie justice. 

Summary: A young Alfie prepares himself to spend a night in jail. Next thing he know, he is on the run with a blonde angel by his side. Nothing about this night goes as he expected. 

Warnings: Some violence, swearing and racial slurs. Just the usual in Peaky Blinders. :)

Words: 5k

~The Difference Between Champagne and Rum~

Part 1- Saved by an Angel

1911

He knew it. Everyone knew it. Bless her, even his own mother knew it. No matter what the Rabbi said. Alfie Solomons’ soul was damned. He was sinful and that would not be changing anytime soon. He easily picked up and wore that mantle though. For it meant there was food on the table for his family and coal to keep them warm in their dilapidated, shoddy apartment. It also meant his younger brother and sister could stay in school and receive a good education. Plus their mum did not have to work sewing till her fingers bled from dawn until midnight. No, his soul was damned but he did not care. He was the man of the house, had been since the age of nine when his father died, and his family came first.

The first time he saw her…he wondered if he might regret missing heaven and all its beautiful creatures. It would be a shame if all the angels looked like her. Perhaps he could amend his ways…later. 

Blood ran down from the left side corner of his mouth, leaving the tang of copper and dirt on his tongue. The dull ache from his mid ribs told him that he would have bruises there tomorrow. He would have to keep them hidden from his mum. None of the pain affected him though. None of the blood stopped him. In this moment, he was an invincible force of nature. Even the devil himself would refuse to fight him right now.

He glared down at the bleeding, busted man at his feet, the wrath of all his ancestors fueling his rage. “You want to say that again, you fucking wop?”

The man –teenager really- sneered but wisely kept his tongue behind his teeth.

The lad at his feet was only a year older than himself, just barely an adult, but that did not matter. Not here on the dirty streets of London. Not even when the gang of wop lads outnumbered the few Jewish lads walking back to the shitty apartments of their families. Big fucks little. And a certain Jewish lad promised himself to one day be the boss. To never back down from a fight until everyone feared his name and pissed themselves even thinking about fighting him.

Alfie eyed the seven other Italian lads sprawled out in the back alley in various states of injury or restrainment. Two of his own lads looked injured enough but otherwise no one was dead. Returning his intense gaze to the ringleader at his feet, he cracked his bloody knuckles.

“See here. That’s the thing, innit? You think just coz you got them fuckin’ suits and greased hair, you s’better than us. Mmm? S’fucking disgrace, mate. Me little sister can fight better than you lot.”

“Fuck you, Solomons.” The man spat blood onto Alfie’s shoes.

Alfie kicked the downed man. “S’disgusting, Sabini. Mate, you gotta learn to shut your mouth before shit starts fallin’ out, yeah? Now, I’m gonna…”

“STOP THEM! STOP THOSE BOYS!”

He looked up as several whistles blew, alerting him to the coppers running straight towards them. Rapidly he spun around, already seeing the panicked look on a few of his lads’ faces. He guessed these coppers were probably paid off by the Sabini family, so the Italian lads would be seen as the victims or get a slap on the wrists while the Jewish lads would be thrown in jail at least overnight if not a couple of days.

“Ishmael, Natan, get the lads! Get ‘em to the warehouse!” Alfie barked out, eyeing the inevitable situation. He was not afraid. This would not be his first time in handcuffs or in jail. At the rate it was going, probably not his last time either. He would make sure they remembered his name though.  

Fists clenched at his sides, he stood perfectly still, like a statue made from stone- unmoving, unrelenting, fearless and determined. Only his icy stare betrayed the whirlwind of emotions seething underneath his skin. He waited for them. As a predator eyeing the unsuspecting prey approaching, he remained fixed amongst the Italian boys he had just been fighting. To any outsider he appeared Ares, the god of war, his victims laying at his feet.

Once the coppers tried to arrest him, to make him surrender…the whirlwind of fire was released. He attacked, doling out several solid punches to those in uniform. They would never forget his name. They fought back with their batons, meeting his bloodied fists. Red clouded his vision. Moments blurred as he held his own. At one point he laughed, cocky and brash. Youth and vengeance fueling his rage.

Eventually, it took four grown men to slam him on the ground and handcuff him. The rocks and debris scrapped the side of his face. He sputtered as a fresh wave of blood filled his mouth when one of the coppers kicked him in the stomach. Cursing colorfully in Russian, he remained down…for now. From what he could see, it looked like the lads had gotten away. Two coppers were trying to wrestle two different wops down and arrest them also. The rest were pulling the Italian lads up against a nearby wall to assess their injuries.

“Move it, boy.” A gruff voice commanded him, dragging him up and towards a nearby brick building across the alley from the Italian boys. Smart man to separate them. He hit the wall, none to gently, and slide down to sit, his back resting against the coarseness of the brick. It tugged at his coat. Sweat soaked through his shirt underneath with flecks of blood splattered sporadically. Whose blood though was the ultimate question. Through half-hooded lids, he watched the coppers and the Italian lads while resting and assessing his own injuries. His ribs rebelled their current position. At least one or two of his knuckles felt busted. The trickle of pooling blood in his mouth made him think he cut his inner check. A new throbbing came from his temple. He could not remember if someone got a hit in or it was where the force of impact from being slammed to the ground originated. The boss would be fucking livid with him. So would his mum. Honestly, he was unsure which was more terrifying when yelling at him.

Opening his eyes to blink away any sweat and blood trickling down, he shifted slightly, the brick digging into his back. That was when he saw her. An absolute angel on earth. Casually walking, as if for a relaxing stroll in the park, she came closer in that dirty back alley. A copper walked close by her, a hand on her elbow as if to guide her. Alfie would not tear his eyes away from her. Never in his seventeen years had he seen anything he could truly label gorgeous or breath-taking. Yet this creature of light did not waver like a flame or mirage. No, she strolled with her head raised proudly, a pout to her full lips with an almost bored look. Her long, blonde hair glowed under the dingy streetlamps, casting a halo around her face, highlighting her delicate features. What made her stand out even more was the party dress and heels that seemed more appropriate for an aristocratic event or a club than the dank back alley full of blood, sweat and piss. Her dress was purple with a sweetheart neckline, lace just barely covering her exposed shoulders and ending mid-shin. Everything about her screamed wealth and posh. Still he could not hate her. It would be like hating a field of sunflowers or a dazzling morning sunrise. His eyes traced her lithe, feminine form and he swallowed subconsciously. There was no way she was older than him, but her silhouette left no doubt that she was a beautiful woman and not a pretty girl.

Once they got close enough, she softly said something to the officer escorting her then without waiting for a response, strutted towards Alfie. Each step she took in his direction, the dirt, blood and sweat felt amplified on his skin and clothes. He could not move nor speak, his mind having lost all function in her wake.

Friendly-like, as if they had known each other for years, she knelt down at his side. Apparently uncaring of the grime in the alley. Her emerald green eyes sparkled like a priceless gem. Quickly she pulled a handkerchief from her small clutch and tenderly dabbed away the blood at his temple, cheek and mouth. No one had touched him this gently outside of his mother and siblings. Unconsciously he leaned into her touch, the handkerchief against his skin.

“Looks like you were in a right, proper fight. I almost feel sorry for the other guy.”

“Naw, don’t be, love. Those wops asked for it.”

“Did they?” She glanced over her shoulder at the others against the opposite wall of that alley. “What did they do?”

“Looked at me funny, right? Can’t ‘ave none of that.” He was not actually going to tell her the wops started yelling racial slurs across the street at him and his lads and making comments about how their mothers spread their legs for anyone. No, he would play it off.

“Well, serves them right then. Looks like they probably needed some dirt on those clean suits and shoes.” Turning back, she winked at him then continued her cleaning, ignoring the rest of the chaos surrounding them. It truly felt like being in the eye of a storm. Nothing and no one else around mattered. All he could see, feel and sense was the angel before him. Even her touch was delicate as she cleaned up his face. Not once did he wince, but that could just be from his mind unable to focus on anything besides her.

“Are you injured badly?” She asked, keeping her voice low as her eyes found his in the gloom.

“No. ‘M fine.”

“Ever been to jail?”

He definitely was not expecting that question from her. “Yeah…yeah, I have.”

She hummed, seeming unsurprised. “Have fun?”

“Oh yeah, fucking best day of me life. Champagne and dancing to fill the night, yeah?”

She laughed, and in that moment he decided that was his favorite sound on this planet. It was robust and sweet, her head tipped back and eyes crinkled. “Well I would hate to take away that pleasure from you but I was wondering if you wanted to get away. I mean these officers are lovely and all but I would not mind a stroll under the moonlight. What do you think? Want to escort me?”

“Love, I’ll follow you wherever you wanna go, yeah?”

A smile burst forth, brilliant as a supernova and filled Alfie with a fire he had never experienced before. Sure he understood the fire of anger and wrath, it helped fuel him in the fights he got into. This though… this fire seeped deep into him like a brand made on his bones that warmed him from head to toes.

“Cheeky. I’m going to hug you but do not move from that position. Wait for my signal, got it?”

He nodded, mouth dry. What the bloody hell was happening? Wait, he would get her dirty with all the filth on him. Before he could protest, she shifted and wrapped her arms around him, embracing him. The scent of lavender filled his senses, making him subconsciously take a deep breath. Was it a perfume she wore? Was it just infused into her skin? It did not matter, he wanted to drown in her scent and never resurface. Her lips were next to his ear, her breasts pressed against his chest, her warm breath ticking the hairs on his neck. It was too much. This angel, a being of light, was creating quite sinful images in his mind. Awful, beautiful, wicked scenarios that entailed her pearly white skin laid bare beneath him. All the blood in his body rushed south and suddenly he felt lightheaded, unsure if it was her intoxicating scent and proximity or his bodily reaction and blood loss. It felt so wrong. His soul was damned, blackened by his choices. Yet he yearned for her like he never had before for anyone or anything.

Both a moment and an eternity later, he heard a faint click coming from behind him. With that she leaned back, but not before dragging a single finger slowly down his jawline. That simple touch sent shivers down his spine.

“What’s your name?”

“Alfie. Alfie Solomons.”

“I’ll be right back, Alfie. Stay here.”

With an astounding amount of grace, she rose from kneeling next to him. Casually she strolled over to the copper who had guided her initially into the alley. He had been speaking with two other coppers standing near the Italian lads. During their strange interaction, Alfie had actually forgotten about the fucking wops and coppers, too entranced by her. Now looking around he could see some of the coppers walking away with the other lads while others stood around surveying the area. He counted at least six coppers in current view. Four too many to all be informally patrolling together. Did someone tip them off to the fight? Were they waiting? Questions swarmed in his mind. At least the Jewish lads got away. They were lucky this time.

Twisting his hands, he froze. The handcuffs no longer strangled his wrists. Actually they felt loose…a quick shake and they practically fell off. That was what she had done when embracing him? Now a new set of questions swarmed like a crazed flock of pigeons in his mind. How? Why? If anything, his respect for her grew…and his curiosity. This was clearly not her first time getting out of handcuffs. She was an enigma. A posh girl who could break someone out of handcuffs in seconds. Glancing to his left, he noticed her small clutch lay on the ground near him. Was this a sign of trust or manipulation?

Overall his rational mind continued to scream ‘what is happening?’ for nothing about tonight was going as expected.

A couple minutes later, she sashed over to the four Italian lads sitting against the far wall and began chatting with them. One, with a black eye, said something and winked making her giggle shyly. A jealous rage crept upon Alfie. Who the fuck did those wops think they were talking to his angel? They were lucky they were all handcuffed because if even one tried to touch her, he would kill the sod…and make it fucking biblical worthy. He continued to watch with growing ire as she laughed and talked with them for several minutes. It took every ounce of self-control to remain where he was and continue the pretense of being handcuffed still.

Finally, she rubbed one of the lads’ shoulders in farewell while making a comment that caused them to laugh or snicker before she returned to his side.

“Nice fuckin’ chat you have there, yeah? Makin’ new friends?”

She sat on the ground next to him, brushing her hair over her shoulder, it easily reaching her mid-back. “Patience, sweetheart, patience. All part of the plan.”

“Plan, eh? That’s the thing, now, innit? I’m not much for patience. Too restless, me mum says, asking too many questions, yeah.”

“I promise I’ll make it worth your time.” She purred out, a glint in her eyes.

His trousers suddenly felt a little tighter. “Oh yeah? Care to share with the class?”

“Now where is the fun in that?”

“You ain’t gonna get me shot, right? That s’fucking pain and would ruin me night.”

“As long as you can keep up.” She deadpanned then glanced over at the other lads, keeping her voice lowered. “You know these streets?”

“Yeah.”

“At the signal, we run. You can get us away from here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They sat in poised silence for a long moment. He unashamedly took the time to admire her beside him. She was too clean, too pristine to be from anywhere around here. Hell, it looked like she bathed regularly which honestly was uncommon where he was from. She certainly had weaned at the bosom of wealth and continued to be nurtured by it. So why was she here? Why did the coppers have her? Why was she so desperate to get away from them? “What’s your name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She winked, fiddling with the hemline on her dress.

“Ah, come on, love.”

“I saw you fight the police men.” She abruptly changed topics. “I have never seen anyone fight like that before. I bet you could box in the rings if you wanted.”

“Yeah? Just somethin’ you learn on the streets, right? Not much to it. I’ve always been broader and stronger than most lads, yeah, so I guess it is easier. Me grandfather taught me some.”

“Well, I found it incredible to watch.”

A second later, a commotion had him whipping his head up in time to see the Italian lads leaping up and running down the alley, some faster than others. The coppers immediately started after them, yelling and blowing their whistles. Chaos suddenly ruling the alley.

He guessed that was the signal.

Leaping to his feet and ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs at the movement, he grabbed her hand. Within the span of a heartbeat, they were racing away from the commotion. Adrenaline coursed through him, helping him forget the aches, pain and fatigue from the fights that night. A shout sounded from behind but neither one of their steps faltered. At the end of the alley, still holding her hand, he pulled her left into a different back alley. He kept his ears open for shouts and whistles, eyes open for coppers and any of those wops looking for revenge. He knew this town, these streets like his own name. They were a part of him, as much as his own blood and bones. He both loathed and loved them. They made him who he was. Yet he promised himself to rise above the poverty dragging its inhabitants down. He would rule this place. Fuck anyone who tried to stop him.

After at least ten minutes of running, he pulled her behind a local dress shop. The streetlamps could not pierce the gloom behind the store, making it perfect for hiding out. Plus there was usually a couple boxes laying around to sit on and it did not smell nearly as bad as the butcher shop just down the street. He pushed her against the wall and pressed himself beside her. Both of them gasping for breath, chests heaving. A glance at her surprised him. A brilliant smile shown, illuminating her face. As if sensing his gaze, she turned her head to meet his eyes. He could not help returning the smile.

“Think…we are…safe?” She asked between deep breaths, eyes still locked on his.

“Yeah…yeah. Don’t hear footsteps…besides ours, right?”

“Yeah.” Her smile turned mischievous as her breathing began to even out. “You seemed to know right where to go. I’m suspecting you have done this once or twice.”

“Once or twice. But you, fuckin’ hell. Gettin’ me outta those handcuffs. You do that often?”

“Once or twice.”

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. This girl, this angel, was nothing like he had ever met before. Standing next to her now, he realized the top of her head just reached his chin, even in those little kitten heels she wore. For some odd reason, that realization made him smile.

“Is St. Mark’s church far from here?”

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked. “That where you’re supposed to be, innit?”

She shoved him, playfully. “Well is it?”

“No, not far. Come on, love. I’ll walk ya there meself. Can’t have you wanderin’ and gettin’ lost, yeah?” He chuckled at her glare before she just rolled her eyes. Pushing off the brick wall, he was surprised when her hand shot out to grab his arm.

“Wait.”

“S’alright? Need to catch your breath?”

Then the completely unexpected happened. He knew to the very marrow of his bones that he would never be the same again.

She roughly tugged him closer before raising up on her toes and pressing her lips against his. Immediately a heat wave shot through him. Without thinking, his body moved on its own accord. He was too focused on the delicious taste of her pouty lips, that entrancing scent of lavender dancing around her, and her body pressed against his. His hands automatically sought out her hips, backing her against the dirty, brick wall to further press himself against her. A slow sweep of her tongue had him open his mouth on a moan which then allowed their tongues to fight for dominance. Her hands moved from his neck upward into his hair, alternating between fisting it to force him closer and scraping his scalp with her nails. Sure he had kissed a couple of girls before, he was a seventeen-year-old hot blooded male. None of those times even came close to this moment. This kiss that would forever ruin him for any other woman. This was heaven in its bliss and hell in its torment. He ached to get closer, to taste more of her, to hear her breathe out his name. With each moment, every touch and continued molding of their lips, she burned further into him, like a drug he would never fully be able to escape.

Finally their lips unlocked, lungs demanding air. Panting with swollen, bruised lips, they stared at one another caught up in the moment of passion and fire. A whole brigade of coppers could have come marching down the alley and he would not have noticed.

“Do this often?”

“Once or twice.” He teased back, his ego inflated at seeing her look as wrecked as he felt. Apparently his kiss and touch affected her just as much as hers did to him.

She laughed, eyes sparkling in the dimness. “Still wanting to escort me?”

“Love, you ain’t gettin’ away from me now.”

Reluctantly he pulled away from her. All he wanted to do was continue kissing her, breathing her in and never let her go. Yet reality demanded something very different. It was obvious she was in a far different class from himself, something he would never achieve. He picked up her clutch that had been dropped on the ground during their snogging. Together, they stepped out of the alley and into the deserted street, heading south towards the church.

“You stopped bleeding.”

“Mmm? Oh yeah.” He touched his temple where there was certainly a cut. “I didn’t get none on you, right? Don’t wanna get any dirt or blood on you, keep you from being all dolled up.”

“I am fine. That stuff never bothered me anyway.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. A posh lady not bothered by blood and dirt? She certainly was turning into a class all of her own…and he did not mind at all.

“What? Stop looking at me like that.”

“You’re the oddest lady I ‘ave ever met.” He teased.

“Excuse you!” She shoved him away, causing him to laugh as he stumbled several steps over dramatically. “See if I ever kiss you again, making fun of me like that. Plain rude is what that is.”

Swiftly moving back to her side, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She refused to meet his eyes until he tipped her chin up with his hand. “Awww…come on, love. I was just teasin’ you a bit is all. I like you. Never been into girls scared of gettin’ their hands dirty meself. End up bein’ too much fuckin’ work, yeah, they are.”

A soft smile graced her lips. “Well, I would hate to be that.”

“Forgive me? I can get down on my knees right here if that’s what you want. I’ll sing a song for you, but you might think a damn cat is dyin’. Probably best if I don’t. Scare you away, yeah.”

She laughed, eyes crinkling. “I forgive you.” She pressed a quick peck to his mouth before sliding out of his arms to continue walking side by side.

“Do I get to learn who you are now?”

“Oh, I am no one interesting. Just a simple lady out on a stroll.”

Scoffing, he nudged her shoulder with his. “That’s the biggest fuckin’ lie I’ve ever ‘eard. A fancy, posh girl like yourself is never a ‘simple lady’, yeah? So, what’s your name?”

“Perhaps I do not want to be her tonight.” She sighed, looking up at the stars as if to distance herself from reality. A feeling Alfie understood all too well. She continued, her voice just a whisper in the night. “Perhaps I want to be someone different…someone else before society forces me to put the mask back on...to pretend for the sake of family and reputation that I am someone I am not. My apologies. I am rambling. It does not matter. Tis not your problem.”

He stopped, moving to stand in front of her. The depth of despair in her words made his heart clench. The whole night she had eluded an aura of authority, confidence and, truthfully, a sex appeal. Now though, whatever wall she protected herself with dropped for a moment. She tried to move around him but he gripped her upper arms gently yet firmly until she looked up at him. Those emerald eyes held him, curiosity and hesitation warring in their depths. Ever so gently he ran a knuckle down her cheek before tracing her lips with the tip of his finger. A piece of his mind imaging their passionate snogging was only a figment of his imagination.

“Look at me, love. You’ll never be a ‘simple lady’ coz you s’fuckin’ something else, right? You can break outta handcuffs faster than most men take a piss. Then you outrun coppers in those kitten heels all while laughing like a fuckin’ lunatic. But hell, maybe all posh ladies are like that where you are from, yeah? Scarin’ the shit outta normal lads but not me, no, love, you’re stuck with me now.”

With a blossoming smile on her lips, his self-control ran out. Bending down slightly, he kissed her. This kiss was slow and soft, a caress of lips and intermingling breaths. He broke it, placing his forehead against hers. “So, who do you wanna be tonight?”

“Either no one of consequence just out enjoying a stroll…”

He snorted. That was him every day.

“…or a king and queen, looking down on our kingdom.”

With a flourish, he bowed, probably not properly in anyway but it made her laugh. Then standing up, he quickly pulled his long black coat off and draped it over her shoulder. The goosebumps and faint shivers had not gone unnoticed while he held her. She giggled, giving him a proper curtsy while wearing his coat as a robe, looking more regal than she should.

“Your majesty, your carriage waits for you.”

Her smile was brighter than the full moon and stars above. Still giggling, she wrapped an arm through his. “My king, you are truly too kind.”

“Naw, that’s what us fuckin’ proper royal people do, yeah?”

They both laughed as they strolled down the darkened, dirty streets. Their conversation steered clear of anything too personal. Both enjoyed this pretend game, being someone else if even just for a little while. They talked about what they would do to make the city better, complained about the particular subjects that annoyed them, how many dogs and horses they each wanted, and where their summer getaway should be. On more than once occasion, they stole kisses from one another, some chaste and some not so much.

Yet like the clock striking midnight and the spell being broken, their time neared its end as they approached St. Mark’s church. Ahead, Alfie could see several cars lined up on the street. Their drivers standing around smoking and talking, waiting for those inside. The cars and drivers screamed wealth, far more than common in Camden Town.

“I can go from here. Thank you for walking me.”

“You sure? I don’t mind none, love.”

She slipped his coat off her shoulders before handing it over. “Thank you, Alfie. This was far more fun than I have had in a long time.”

“Will I see you again?” The words came blurting out without his permission but he did not regret asking. He desperately wanted to see her again.

“I hope so. I truly do.”

“Wait, I still don’t know your name. That’s not quite fair, innit? I mean, when I first saw you, I thought to meself, there, now there’s a fuckin’ angel.” He reached out a hand and twirled a lock of blonde hair around his finger. “Pretty damn sure you’re the most beautiful thing on this fuckin’ earth, yeah? And I’ve seen the ocean before, Margate yeah, but its nothin’ compared to you.” Where the words came from he was unsure but they poured forth on their own. As if knowing their time was over, he wanted her to remember him, even if it was for blubbering like a simpleton. He hoped she would not forget him like he would never forget her.

Taking a step closer, she kissed him once again, cupping his cheeks. “Call me that. I’ll see you around, Alfie. I do not think this is good-bye. Not for us.”

Before he could respond, she twirled around and walked towards the cars, gliding like a phantom from a dream. It did not take long for the men to notice her, one in particular coming to her side. After a minute of talking, he walked next to her up the stairs of the church then disappeared into the light after opening the doors.

Alfie stood rooted in the shadows for longer than necessary. It was foolish to linger, he knew that, but his body felt immobile. His eyes glued to those doors he would never pass through. Finally with a huff and curse, he tugged his coat back on and turned away. His walk home would be long for St. Mark’s was in the opposite direction of his mum’s shit apartment. It was worth it though. With each step, the lingering hint of lavender drifted off his coat. A reminder of the only other person besides himself to wear it. His feet were on autopilot for his mind could not stop ruminating on the blonde beauty with gemstone eyes. An angel on earth.

On the barren street under the moonlight and flickering streetlamps, Alfie prayed for the first time in years. He prayed to see her again. That whatever fate brought them together would not desert them now. He needed her light in the dark world he inhabited. He wanted once again to hold and kiss his angel.

[barbedwireandbubblegum]

Say You Won’t Let Go

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Genre: Angst, oops

Word Count: Little short of 2,500

TW: some swearing, canon violence, main trigger warning in tags due to spoilers please check there if needed

Summary: A promise is a promise, and Sam promises to not let go

A/N: This is for @whispersandwhiskerburn ‘s 2K challenge! The dialogue prompt is bolded below and the song I chose to go with it is James Arthur’s I Won’t Let Go. I hope you all like it!

Sunlight filtered through the leaves above, shining midday beams down into the clearing. The strong scent of the forest filtered through Sam’s lungs, cleansing him. Usually the simple moment was a quick fix to calm his nerves. Today, he was not so lucky. The sun caught in his eyes, exposing his nerves to the man beside him. The give of the earth beneath his feet grounded Sam, reminding him that this was real. He never gave much thought to if this day would come, and when it finally did he couldn’t help but be taken over by the swell of emotions that hit him. The overbearing pull to drag him under.

 He could feel Dean beside him, standing as a pillar of support, but the knowledge of his presence felt almost dreamlike. He could sense him, feel his eyes watching him, but he felt untethered. Felt as if he was being pulled in all directions, his heart yearning to run but his feet stuck. He was both present and lost to the world. 

His eyes locked onto you, shroud in white before him. The sight brought fresh tears to his eyes, memories quickly flooding to the surface, pooling in a mass of forgotten words and lingering glances. He could feel the softness of your skin, hear the lilt of your voice. The memories felt like gauze, meshy and delicate pieces of a life he cherished. Precious moment clipped through his mind in a rapid pace.

“Do you remember the first hunt?” He asked out loud, not sure who he was attempting to speak to.

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice was low, a soft response pushing through the cobwebs Sam found himself stuck in. “It was the vamp hunt out in Tennessee, right?” 

Sam could picture that night as if it were yesterday.

“Yeah,” his voice was thick, emotions conflicting within him. “She came ripping into that room… those vamps didn’t know what hit them.” Pride sparked in his check at the words.

A flickering memory roared into view. He could see you, the worn wooden handle of a machete clutched in your fist, knuckles white with your grip. Your chest heaved with thick, heavy breaths, adrenaline coursing through you. The fight was barely over. Your y/e/c eyes burned in the low light of the basement, a smirk playing on your lips. You had swung into the fight as two vampires had rounded on Sam, the glint of your weapon startling him as he noticed their presence.

“Sam Winchester,” you had laughed, stress rolling off your blood splattered shoulders, “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

You extended your hand, black ink wrapping around your wrist in a such a way that Sam knew too well, his heart jumping beneath his own.

“Do I know you?” His eyes locked with yours, ignoring the extended greeting. He watched the hurt skirt across your face as you pulled your arm back, the look sending a coil of regret to pang through him. He cursed himself for the response, questioning the emotions he felt churning. 

“Right, sorry.” Your previously friendly cadence was quickly replaced with stoic professionalism. A wall was thrown up, and Sam found himself banging against it, wishing for the bright warrior from moments ago. “I’m not as renowned as you Winchesters.”

You ran scarred fingers through your hair, the motion more difficult than usual due to the sweat, blood, and gore that had lodged itself atop your scalp. Quickly, you regretted the action. 

“Name’s y/n.” A small smile broke across your face as you made eye contact with the tall man before you. The small gesture wearing down his last bit of resolve. Sam had never admitted it, never told a soul about the emotions that flooded him that night you met him in the dark, but in that moment, he knew he was done for. He could never let go.

“She was a badass from the start,” Dean laughed, pulling Sam out of his head. The sound was forced, cut short in the still air.

“I love her man.” A burning lump choked Sam’s words, distorting the sounds as they left his mouth. “I need her.”

The silence around them was suffocating, stirring anxiety and fear in the stillness. It was too much, too much everything, and Sam could feel it all weighing down upon him. His mind was rioting, stirring up things he didn’t want to see, didn’t want to witness again. The voices in his head ricocheted and echoed, amplifying to the point of physical pain.

To Sam, you were everything. You were light in a dark world. He knew you came from the same dark places he had been, but you carried yourself as if you were untarnished by it. He was in awe of it. What he didn’t know was you were just better at hiding the rot.

You had gotten into the life like many others, a terrible night that ripped the blinders from your eyes and normalcy from your veins. Your family had been attacked by a group of werewolves while camping, leaving you alone, young, and wounded in a backwoods campsite in Maine. The mental scars were manifested physically by a thick cord of scar tissue that wrapped down your torso, a permanent reminder each night in the bathroom mirror of your shortcomings.

When you had caught wind of victims piling up in Maine, chest cavities vacant of an essential organ, you knew you had to go. Sam had found you in a flurry. You were a tornado, whipping around the room with force, throwing flannel and silver haphazardly into a duffle bag.

 “Hey, whoa!” He reached for you, the skin of your arm barely in his grasp before you pulled free, paying no mind to his attempt as you continued with your whirlwind movements.

 “Baby, slow down, what are you doing?” Panic was creeping into his voice, his words pulling together, trying to get anything out of you.

 “I have to go.” Another flannel flew into the bag, a balled up pair of leggings quick to follow.

 “Go? Go where?”

 “Back to Maine.”

“Maine? What th- hey!” He reached for your wrist again, catching the inked flesh mid motion. “What are you talking about?” Your eyes were skirting the room, panic barely hidden beneath their bright surface. “Baby, talk to me.”

A deep breath pulled through you, collecting your thoughts before speaking. “The werewolves,” you started, the anxiety of the whole ordeal catching up to you, “the werewolves that got my family, I think they’re back.”

“What- how do you know?” He ran his hands down your arm, trying to soothe the panic he could see building.

“Victims, four of them popping up right around where it happened before. Their hearts are missing, Sam! It has to be them!” Tears began pooling in your eyes, welling up on the cusp of falling.

He let go of you, searching within his closet, for what you didn’t know. He pushed aside copious flannel, all hanging erratically from plastic hangers.

“Sam, what are you looking for?” Your words fell on deaf ears and he stooped lower into the closet. He returned to the bed, his go bag in hand. Looming over you, he locked eyes with yours.

“I’m coming with you.” His tone was final, but you were too stubborn too give in. 

“No you’re not. I can’t go losing anyone else to them!” The panic was coming back, a shrill note edging its way into your voice. “It’s my fight! It’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about? You were just a kid, y/n/n.” He kept his voice even, not wanting to push you closer to the brink you were teetering upon.

“I should have known better.”

“About what? Werewolves, how does that make any sense?”

“I just should have, okay! Then everything would be fine, it’d be normal!” You weren’t making any sense, your thoughts were a cataclysmic ball of anxious energy waiting to snap inside you. Logically you knew you weren’t being fair, but the need to get out and get to Maine overrode any logical thought in your mind. “Just let me go, Sam! This is my baggage to deal with!” 

Sam could feel the tension inside of him boiling, pushing to the top and daring him to say something he’d regret. He knew the taste of vengeance, had let it get the best of him many a time, and could see that flame in you. Reaching for you once more, he tried to still your movement, keep you from self-destructing before him.

“Hey, hey, hey, just slow down. Okay. This is not your fault. I don’t care about your damn baggage. I just want you. . I just want you safe, and happy, and if getting you out to Maine to stop these werewolves will do that, then so be it, but, fuck, y/n, I’m not letting you go out there alone!” His hazel eyes searched for your wandering ones, praying to get his words to hit home. “I can’t lose you either. Okay?”

You looked up at him, no longer able to keep your composure. Tears were streaming down your face, sticky in the humid air of the room. The sudden onslaught of suppressed pain was too much. You curled into Sam, breathing him in and tethering yourself to his presence, afraid you’d get swept away. “Just say you won’t let go,” you whispered into his tee-shirt. 

“I won’t, I promise.”

The memory of those words sent a hollow ache through his chest. If he had known that this was how it would turn out, would he have let you go? Would you even have let him make that decision? Your steadfast stubbornness was hard to break, and even now he knew that it would have been impossible to stop you from going to Maine. That dark desire for the blood of those monsters was something you had festered on for too long to just let it go.

You three had been able to track down the pack fast enough, Dean coming along after hearing the severity of the hunt. Each victim had been mauled around a central point of the Katahdin woods, a mountainous wilderness near the top of Maine. A day’s hike into the woods had led you close to where you believed the pack was nesting. A quick campsite was erected and shifts were distributed amongst the hunters to be on the lookout for anything suspicious.

Sam woke in the middle of the night to bloodcurdling screams coming from outside his tent. He ripped through the door, not caring if the tent was destroyed with his actions. He knew who had screamed. He prayed he was wrong.

Tearing through the woods he bellowed your name, his voice echoing around him. The distant sound of boots snapping twigs behind him alerted him to the fact Dean had woken to the commotion.

“Y/N!” He yelled again, pausing to hear any response in return. Moving deeper into the woods, sweeping a large circle around the campsite, he knew you couldn’t be too far.

“Sam?” Your voice was weak, but close by. He moved further, close towards where he thought you may be.

A large tree grew before him, shrouded in the utter darkness of the night. Squinting he saw the hunched form of what he thought could only be you leaning against the tree. As a neared he felt ice fill his chest, tendrils of terror looping through his veins that launched him closer to you.

“Baby,” he whispered, cradling your face in his calloused hands, “baby, what happened?” He couldn’t see well, but he knew that the spreading dark stain in the dirt was not water.

“I-” your voice caught in your throat, “I got ‘em.” Your teeth were dark, equally dark liquid pooling around your lips.

“Dean!” He shouted, “Get over here!” The distant sound of boots on forest floor registered somewhere in his mind, but his attention quickly turned back to you.

“I’m so proud of you, baby, but what happened to you.” His fingers prodded you, looking for where the blood was coming from. Your hand enclosed around his, guiding it to the open wound across your torso, a matching tear to the healed one you loathed at night. Tears welled in his eyes as he made quick work of patching the wound.

 “They got me, Sammy, bu-but it’s ‘kay. I go’ ‘em.” Your words were slurring, blood bubbling around your lips. Sam felt Dean kneel beside him, hands hovering over y/n, trying to help in anyway he could.

“Hey, princess,” he whispered, “I thought I told you that we didn’t want you looking like the Bride of Frankenstein.” His voice was thick, emotions running high amongst the hunters.

“Shu’ up, Dean, she’s hot and you kno-know it.” The boys laughed, but Sam knew this was it. He could see the blue taking over your face in the pale moonlight. He could hear your voice fading. They were a four hour hike back to the Impala and stuck somewhere in the Hundred Mile Wilderness, a complete dead zone.

Sam sunk down, pulling you closer to his chest. His lips fell towards the shell of your ear, hoping you could hear him. 

“I love you so much, y/n. Look at you, look how far you’ve come.” 

“I go’ ‘em.”

“I know baby, I know you did. Just hold on, okay. Just hold on to me.” His chest burned, the pain blooming throughout him was unbearable.

“I lo’e you too, Sammy. Prom’se me.”

“Promise what.”

“You’know.”

Sam took in a shaky breath, the words you wanted hurting his heart too much to say. “I won’t let go, y/n/n. I promise.”

The weight of Dean’s hand on his shoulder tore him from the memory, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. The flames were getting high now, almost reaching the tree line. He walked closer the structure, face wet with pain. He never thought this day would come, even in their line of work he had thought that you two would beat the odds. He wanted to grow old with you, watch your hair turn gray and dance in your quaint house’s kitchen. You didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to be burning on a pyre before your skin could wrinkle. Anger and pain and a bitter numbness swirled inside him as he watched the smoke curl towards the sky.

“I won’t let go, y/n. I won’t.” He whispered into the air, his words disappearing with the smoke.