Imagine you and Sam go grave digging.

Word Count: 949

~

Trees rustle softly as the wind gently teases past them. The full moon provides excellent light that illuminates the grim graveyard. Ghastly shadows and dark tombstones are all that can be seen far and wide. Well, except for the 67 Impala parked by a small grove of trees right next to the cemetery. 

You and Sam exit the car and head to the trunk to grab a shovel. 

"Crap..." 

Sam lifts the lone shovel out of the trunk and you sigh. You also snatch the can of salt and the bottle of gasoline. 

"We should really get another shovel," you say, walking next to Sam as you look for the grave of a serial killer who became a serial-killing ghost. 

"Yeah," Sam agrees.

An owl hoots from somewhere in the night, making you a bit nervous. Sam notices and entwines his hand with yours, "Hey, it's okay Y/n. It's just an owl."

"I know that." You retort as you check the names on each gravestone as you pass by. 

He stops suddenly, and your arm is yanked back because you didn't notice soon enough to stop. Looking towards the creepy, beaten-down gravestone, you sigh and turn to face Sam. 

"So, shall I start, or you?" 

He frowns, "I guess I'll start."

"You sure? I could start first if you want."

"No, I got it."

"Are you certain?"

He looks at you quizzically, "Do you want to go first or something?"

"Not if you want to."

"Wait, why do you want to go first?"

You look at the ground, "Well, I kinda don't want to be the one to hit the coffin. Like - I don't know. What if the coffin breaks when I'm standing on it, and then I'd be all over the -" You shudder and gag. 

Sam just chuckles, "Alright, you can go first."

"Thanks." The shovel is cold and rough in your hands as you take it up and start digging. 

Sam sits on the grass and watches you for the first few minutes before exhaling and standing up again. 

He walks up to you and tries to take the shovel from your grasp. 

"Sam, what on Earth are you doing?" 

"I thought-"

"No, I don't need help. I got this, okay?" You shove him lightly on the chest. 

He sighs, "Fine, I just thought I'd offer."

"Well, thank you, but no thanks." 

You continue shovelling as the silence grows. Sam exhales loudly.

"Sammy, am I going to slow or something? You want me to dig faster?"

He shakes his head, "No, of course not." 

"Well then be quiet!" You shoot a glare his way before focusing on the digging. 

Soon enough, you're waist deep in the ground and Sam is laying beside the grave. You're exhausted. Callouses have already formed on your sore hands, and your back is sore too. You lean against the shovel, huffing and puffing. 

A soft snore comes from a large lump on the ground. Shaking your head, you prod Sam with the shovel handle. 

"Sammy, it's your turn now!" 

He mumbles and groggily raises his head, "Y/n?"

"Yes, Sleeping Sammy?" You tease him, tossing the shovel beside him and climbing out of the grave.

"It's my turn already?" He whines before rolling over and then plopping down on the freshly churned dirt. 

Shaking his shaggy hair, he starts digging and now it's your turn to relax and watch him.  

After another hour or so, he finally hits the coffin. He starts prying it open as you open the salt can and start pouring. 

"Hey, watch it," Sam complains, and you realize that you've been pouring the salt all over him.

You chuckle, "Whoops, didn't see ya there Sammy." 

He scoffs, shakes his head, and hops out of the grave. You pour the flammable liquid over the corpse. Sam lights a match and tosses it into the coffin. 

Both of you are alight in the glow of the awful flames. Taking a moment to admire your handiwork, you sigh and lean against Sam's strong, tall frame. 

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and hugs you tight as you observe the flickering fire. 

"Well, I've had my workout for the week," You smirk as you both start walking back to the car. 

"Same here. Next time, Dean can dig and we can stay at the motel and relax."

"Yes, that sounds like a great plan." You walk contentedly with the comfort of Sam's large hand in your own. 

"You wanna drive? I swear I won't tell Dean," Sam jokes.

"Nah, you drive. I'll probably fall asleep anyways."

Sam acts all gentlemanly and opens the door for you. 

"Aww, thanks."

Sam gets in the car and you two are well on your way back to the motel. 

"I had fun tonight," you comment, trying to stay awake.

He smirks, "You may be the only girl I know who could have fun grave digging and burning corpses."

"C'mon Sam. I'm the only girl you know." 

He rolls his eyes but then smiles, "I had fun too."

Your eyes are starting to droop, your breathing beginning to slow as you listen to the rumble of the engine and the soothing sound of Sam's steady breath. Each movement of the car is slowly lulling you to sleep, and the delicious scent of Sam isn't helping you stay awake. 

When Sam finally pulls into the motel, he looks in the passenger seat and finds you passed out. He chuckles lightly and shakes his head before scooping you into his arms. 

He relishes the feeling of your body pressed against his chest, the way your heartbeat matches his. 

He murmurs to you as he lays you down on the bed in the motel room, "You're adorable, Y/n."