A/N - Thanks so much to all of you that have read this so far, especially those that have reviewed and are following. I hope you like the new chapter. It's longer than I expected, but that's how it goes sometimes.

Disclaimer - I wish I did, but I don't own any piece of Supernatural. I'm just playing with them, I'll put them back where I found them.


The fifteen minute car ride back to the motel was unbearably tense, but thankfully uneventful. Sam drove with no debate from Dean, which said clearly that he wasn't doing well. Sadie sat next to Sam in the passenger seat, Dean right behind her with the knife out and ready. Dean was definitely not happy about having her in his car, but he stopped grumbling when Sam threw him a look that stated he was tired and done with playing around accompanied by a "Dean." that was a warning all itself.

Sam kept a careful eye on his brother in the rearview mirror, watching Dean glare at the back of Sadie's head. Sadie just stared out the window, leaning slightly forward so she wasn't fully resting on the handcuffs. Sam wasn't happy about those, but he didn't dare take them off. Dean would hit nuclear levels in a matter of seconds, no matter how out of it he was. He didn't miss that Dean's eyelids were starting to droop or that his chin would drift down to hit his chest before bouncing back up again sharply, eyes forced wide. Stubborn ass, he wouldn't dare let himself get some much needed sleep if he thought Sam was in danger.

Once they made it to the hotel, Sam quickly turned off the car and exited, trying to get to the back passenger door before Dean tried to make it out on his own. He was just in time to catch Dean before he landed face first on the pavement. He fought down his irritation, Dean could just never accept that he was hurt and needed help, reminding himself with a litany of memories how often Dean had cared for him in the past, and of how much he loved his brother. Even if he was a complete jackass when he was hurt because he just couldn't bear to be seen as weak by his little brother. Even if it made it a lot harder for said little brother to take care of him in turn.

"Thanks Sammy," Dean slurred quietly as Sam hefted him up, Dean grasping onto his arms so he could pull his feet out of the car. He was just so tired. His ribs hurt, his head hurt...he just wanted to fall into bed and sleep. He just had to deal with the succubus first and then that was the next item on his agenda.

Sam eyed Sadie waiting patiently in the front of the car. Dean was taking up all his hands at the moment and he was bearing enough of his weight that he didn't want to risk dropping him to let her out. As if sensing his indecision, she turned to look at him, eyes roving over Dean's limp form. She looked back up at Sam with a rueful smile.

"Take him in. I'll be here," she said.

"Thanks and, I uh…I'm really sorry about this," he offered with a slight shrug of his shoulder, the best he could do with his arms full of big brother. She just shrugged back in reply and turned back to face forward. He didn't want to keep her waiting any longer. "I'll be right back."

Getting Dean inside the room was a challenge in itself. Once he managed to prop Dean up so he could use a hand to wiggle the key in the lock, he kicked the door open and started to pull them inside. Dean decided he wanted to be helpful at that point, so he tried to participate by walking instead of being dragged. He only managed to catch a foot on a bump in the carpet and, unable to catch himself in time, started heading towards the floor. Sam lurched forward to catch him, a quick "Damn it," leaving his lips. He grimaced as he took all his brother's weight and gently guided him over to the bed that was closest. Dean fell back against the pillows with a groan, his face distorting as the pain spiked.

Sam checked to make sure Dean was stable on the bed and in no danger of falling out, then turned to go back out to get Sadie. To his surprise, she was already in the room, hands still cuffed behind her. He threw her a questioning glance to which she answered "I'm flexible." She closed the door with her foot, and made her way over to the table in front of the window. She scooted backwards so that her butt was firmly on the surface, long legs hanging off the side.

Her actions reassured Sam that she was sticking around, so he grabbed the first aid kit out of his bag and headed back over to his brother. Dean was conscious, but just barely. Only a slice of green from between his eyelids gave away that he was awake. Otherwise, he was still and quiet.

"Where is she?" Dean asked abruptly.

So much for quiet.

"She's here Dean. Let me take a look at that knot on your head, okay?" Sam requested, already pulling Dean up, who hissed and squeezed his eyes shut as the change in position caused the agony in his head to flare up. He ran fingers through the matted hair at the back of Dean's skull, finding the knot that he was discovered earlier. The bleeding had stopped long ago, a scab already formed.

Peering over Sam's shoulder, Dean settled his eyes on Sadie who was still sitting casually on the table. He wanted to have it out with her right that very second, go over what happened between her and Sam when he was down for the count. He didn't have a lot of time left, he could feel exhaustion deadening his limbs, his mind, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to fight it much longer. His body needed the rest to heal and it would drop him if he wouldn't do it himself. He'd had it happen many times before, he knew the signs.

"So what happened?" he rasped out, question meant for Sam, death glare all for Sadie.

"Can you sit here a minute Dean? I need to get some water to wash it off." Sam ignored his question, only checked to make sure Dean was going to be able to hold himself up. He darted into the bathroom, the sound of running water starting.

Dean kept his eyes locked with the woman across the room. She hadn't moved, her face a calm mask of serene perfection, but there was an undercurrent of tension in her honey brown eyes. She waited expectantly, knowing he had something to say, but she wasn't going to engage him.

"Since he won't talk, how about you? What the hell happened?" he bit out harshly, wishing he had the strength to back up his threat. That placid, condescending little expression on her face was pissing him off.

To his profound irritation, he heard the water shut off in the bathroom and Sam emerged with dampened towels. His gaze cut between Sadie's neutral stance to the seething frustration running through Dean's entire body. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, his fists clenched at his sides. He looked about two seconds from leaping across the room at her.

"I guess I interrupted something," he commented, continuing to Dean's side.

Neither party spoke, so Sam continued with his ministrations. Once the blood was cleaned off the head wound, Sam saw that it was only a small cut. He could have sworn it was larger and deeper before, but figured that Sadie's healing touch had taken care of some of that as well. Since it didn't need stitches, or even a bandage, he moved on to Dean's ribs. Lifting Dean's shirt, he could see some bruising on his left side. He gently pressed on the bruises, looking for the tell-tale give or crackle that would indicate cracked or broken ribs. They felt solid, but the area was still painful, Dean's jaw clenched against the discomfort of Sam's examination.

Sam sat back and quickly checked Dean's pupils again, confirming that they were both still functioning normally, glaring at Dean when he crossed his eyes at him, then chuckling when his brother clenched them shut, the movement bringing some unexpected discomfort. Besides being incredibly tired, sore and bruised, Dean was in pretty good shape considering he'd been at death's door once again just an hour ago.

"How's the head?" he asked, already reaching into the first aid kit for some painkillers. He had promised Dean the good stuff, but he hadn't intended to give it to him. Painkillers mixed with concussions could have disastrous results. Even if he was better now than he was, Dean was still disoriented and he might still have a concussion. So aspirin it was, regardless what Dean said.

"Good enough. Now let's have show and tell so I can get some sleep," Dean demanded, waving away the pills Sam held out for him.

Sam sighed. His brother was so predictable at times. "Dean, you need some sleep. We start talking now, you'll probably pass out about five minutes in. "

"What about her?" Dean asked, eyes flicking back over to Sadie. The fact that he didn't argue about needing sleep concerned Sam, made him wonder if he might be missing a more serious injury. Dean always played down his wounds and physical condition. Of course, maybe he was just too tired to hedge. It happened sometimes.

"I'll keep an eye on her until you wake up, okay Dean?" Sam offered.

"You need some sleep too," Dean responded, his eyes already growing heavier. He hadn't forgotten the reaction Sam had earlier when he got the memory. He knew his little brother was still wiped out from it, but he didn't want to bring it up in front of their captive audience.

"Yep, and I'll get plenty when you're awake and feeling better. Come on, lights out Dean." Sam pulled Dean's jacket off with little resistance or help from his older brother, then settled him back on the pillows. Dean's eyes were already shut by the time Sam stood up again. He started to move away when a hand clamped on his wrist. He looked back down at his injured brother, who was now starting up at him with determination.

"Sammy, keep the cuffs on. Don't trust her, no matter what. We don't know enough about her yet." The words were an order, but the pleading tone he spoke them in gained Sam's cooperation more than commands would. Dean was genuinely worried and if he thought Sam was in danger, he would force himself to stay awake. Not happening on Sam's watch.

"Yeah, sure Dean. I know, we can't let our guard down," Sam assured him, holding Dean's gaze steadily.

Dean gave Sadie one last mistrustful and warning look, then released Sam, sinking back down into the pillows with a pained grunt. He was out in seconds if his deep, steady breathing was anything to go by. Sam continued to watch him for a moment, checking to make sure his breathing wasn't labored in any way, that his lungs were fully inflating and not hampered by the bruised tissue around his ribs. Satisfied, he decided that Dean was just sleeping and not unconscious, but he would still do the usual concussion routine and wake him every hour.

Sam took off Dean's boots, setting them beside the bed. He recalled that Dean's bed didn't have sheets, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He grabbed the sheets and blanket from his bed and settled them around Dean, leaving him with only a flat sheet. It wasn't exactly cold in the room and he could put the heat on. It would be fine.

He swallowed a yawn that rose up at the thought of sleeping. Now that the excitement had died down and Dean was settled, the adrenaline had left his body in a major way. He was damn tired, he was pretty sure he could just drop on the bed and pass out, but there was one significant obstacle to that and she was staring at him. Sam wondered what the hell he was going to do with her. Did she sleep? Dean knew way more about succubi then he did. Dad always left him out of those particular hunts due to his age and the nature of the succubi's main method of attack.

"You must do this kind of thing often," she remarked, nodding her head in Dean's direction.

Sam followed her gaze back to his sleeping brother, his expression softening at the sight of him resting peacefully. "More than I'd like," he replied, turning back to her.

Sadie's eyes dropped down to the ratty carpet. "I'm sorry I made you have to do it again." Her voice was soft, but there was no denying the sincerity.

"Well, as you said, you were just defending yourself," he replied. He did believe that. If they hadn't pursued her, she would have disappeared without hurting either of them. The question remained if that was a good thing or bad thing. She was still a succubus, a monster, and just because she didn't attack them didn't change that.

Even if nothing fit or made sense about that.

He eyed the wounds on her chest and shoulder. He couldn't see much of the shoulder wound as it was hidden by her shirt, but the slash on her chest was ugly. It did look slightly better than it had when she had first healed Dean, so it must be healing. "Would you like me to look at those for you?" he asked hesitantly.

She looked down like she had forgotten the injuries were there. "A wet towel would be good. I'll be fine, my body kind of takes care of itself," she added with a smile. "Thank you Sam."

Sam retrieved another towel from the bathroom, stopping to wet it down. He gave it to her and she pressed it against the cut, dabbing at the dried blood. An awkward silence fell between them, questions welling up in Sam, as he recalled some of the other things she had said that night. Starting with knowing their Dad.

"So…um…how did you know our Dad?" he asked hesitantly.

Head tilted to the side, she looked back up at him, a mischievous smile playing about her lips. "I know that you're curious about me Sam. I'm curious about you, too. Both of you. But I think we should hold off on any memory lane tripping until Dean can join us. I don't think he'd appreciate being left out again," she suggested.

Sam didn't disagree, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. He had a passed out brother and a handcuffed succubus that he didn't know what to do with. See if she wanted to play cards? Charades? He couldn't let her go, he had promised Dean. Knowing eyes once again spotted his dilemma.

"Look, you obviously could use some sleep too. I promise; I will stay here until you both wake up and then we can have a nice long chat full of uncomfortable silences and threats against my life. I don't know about you, but I certainly don't want to miss that," she offered sardonically.

Sam hesitated with uncertainty and confusion. So much about her didn't make sense and while every hunter's instinct he had said not to trust her, his instinct, what made him who he was, felt like he could.

"I don't get it. Why would you stay here? You could have taken off a million times tonight, why are you just hanging around? I know we're not much of a threat to you," he finally asked, hoping to get just a bit more clarity.

"Well you did save me from your brother stabbing me with that rude little knife, so I figure I owe you a solid. Besides, I meant what I said; I'm curious about the two of you. So go ahead and cuff me to the chair in front of the TV. I can entertain myself for a few hours. It'll be fine," Sadie reassured him.

Debating the options wasn't really worth it because there weren't any. He didn't relish the idea of trying to make small talk with her while avoiding anything he actually wanted to talk about. He was exhausted. He may not have ended up cracking his head on a shelf, but he'd had a rough day in his own right. The information he'd gleaned from that memory earlier had filled his head with questions and fears that he'd had no opportunity to clarify. He'd managed to push them down to get the job done, but they were back with a vengeance now. The only one who had any answers was sleeping off another rough night on the job.

Sam ran a hand through his already tousled hair, mouth turned down in indecision. If he went with her suggestion and she disappeared while he was sleeping, he would lose some of Dean's trust. He was still working on getting it back. He needed to prove to Dean that he was still solid and capable. It would be all that much harder to get him to let Sam take care of things the next time he was injured. And there would be a next time, they were just that lucky.

This time he wasn't able to stifle the yawn and it was a jaw cracker. Screw it, he needed some sleep, he could barely think. He'd be waking up in fifty minutes anyway to rouse Dean. How much trouble could she get into in that small amount of time?

'Oh a lot' the little voice in his head answered. Shut up, he thought back.

Yeah, definitely ready for some shut eye, he was getting delirious.

"I'd like to leave you loose, but…" Sam started.

"Hey, it's okay. I get it," she broke in. "Big brother over there would blow a fuse. I don't blame you for not trusting me, I don't expect anything else."

He nodded. "Well thanks again, you really are being astonishingly reasonable about all this. I'm just going to get things set up, okay?"

At her nod, Sam grabbed one of the chairs by the table and set it in front of the TV. He shoved the recliner out of the way. He would like to put her in the comfier chair, but there wasn't anything to hook the cuffs to. He turned to gesture her over, but she was already standing beside him. He started back in surprise. She just smiled at him and turned her back.

"I am hoping you'll move these to the front so I'm not sitting on my hands all night." Sadie wiggled her fingers. Sam could see the pinched skin, reddened and bruised from the tight metal. He felt a rush of guilt that he'd kept them on so long and worse, intended to keep them on.

"Yeah, of course, sorry," Sam mumbled, moving over to grab Dean's jacket. He found the key in the front pocket. The cuffs came loose and Sadie immediately started to rub her wrists. She sat down in the chair.

"So how do you want me?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

Sam looked down at her, an answering quirk on his lips at her suggestive words. He didn't think she was flirting, it just seemed to be her way. She reminded him of the silver screen bombshells, all tough and sexy. She really was beautiful. He knew it wasn't real, that succubi were hideous beneath their pretty shells, but it was a well put together façade.

"Just put your hand down, I'll cuff it to the chair and leave the other free," he explained. She did as he said and he snapped the cuff back in place, snug, but not tight.

He reached over to turn on the TV and snatched the remote that was resting beside it. He handed it to her with a smile. She took it and immediately started flipping through channels.

"It's not too loud, is it?" she asked.

Sam laughed quietly. "Nope, for us TV is like white noise, knocks us right out."

He grabbed two beers and a bottle of water from the mini fridge and set them on a side table within her reach. She nodded her thanks. Sam looked her over, trying to think if there was anything else he could to make this a bit more comfortable for her. Who was he kidding? She was on a hard kitchen chair, looking at twelve channels on a crappy TV that was mostly playing infomercials. Comfortable wasn't going to happen.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" he asked hopefully, wanting her to give him some other ideas to make him feel a bit better about this entire situation.

"I'm good. Thanks Sam." She didn't look at him again, just continued to flip through channels. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs.

Sam hesitated a moment more, then moved quickly around the room to check the salt lines they had laid before they left. He paused by the door, noted that it was still intact, then moved onto the window. He froze. The salt line. Sadie had walked right over it. He looked over at her, the picture on the TV flashing light over her face. He said it once tonight, he was going to say it again; What the fuck? Dean had mentioned that salt worked on succubi, so why hadn't it worked on her?

Later. That was a question for when Dean was awake.

"So I'll be waking up in less than an hour to check on Dean. Let me know if there's anything you need, okay?" he called out, now next to his bed.

"You got it," she responded.

Sam quickly set his cell phone alarm to ring in forty five minutes. He checked Dean over again, and finding no reason for concern, he flopped into his own bed. He thought it would be difficult to relax into sleep knowing there was someone in the room, someone potentially dangerous, but it wasn't. He was out just minutes after his head hit the pillow.


Sam only set his cell phone twice more after he woke the first time to the alarm. Dean was still sleeping easily, had even moved into a more comfortable position. He didn't wake quickly, but his irritation and grumbled threats told Sam that he was doing okay. The next time earned him a punch to the arm and the third got him a pillow in the face and some not so polite slurs on his character. Sam decided to just let him sleep for what was quickly becoming morning.

Each time he awoke, he also checked on Sadie. He was filled with relief each time that she was still there. She didn't ask for anything when he came by. He caught her sleeping the last time he woke up, which puzzled him. He didn't think demons slept, but there she was, head resting on her shoulder, eyes closed. He thought to put a blanket over her, but Dean currently had them twisted like origami around him. He did turn up the heat, just in case. Then he went back to sleep, this time with no alarm on the cell phone.

It was Dean who woke first. The light coming in through the thin curtains was falling right over his eyes. He blinked them open, then shut them tightly when confronted with the bright rays. He shifted so that he was out of the light, breathing in sharply at the ache in his ribs. So those still hurt, not too surprising. He moved his head gingerly, silently amazed that there was only a throb of discomfort left from the trauma it had gone through. On the whole, he felt pretty good. He actually felt like he had slept, which he couldn't normally say, even considering the times Sam had woken him up to check him for concussion.

He glanced over at the other bed, not at all surprised to see Sam there. Yes, the agreement was that Sam would keep watch on the succubus, but he didn't really expect him to stay up the entire time Dean was sleeping. That would be a bit rude, considering he had passed out on his little brother, leaving him to keep her occupied. Sam was such a boy scout that he would probably try to make friendly conversation.

He sought her out. She wasn't hard to find, sitting on a chair in front of the TV that was showing the morning local news. There were two empty beer bottles and a half filled water bottle on a table beside her. She turned to look at him, her eyes staring into his intently.

"It's a little early in the morning for that kind of look, sweetheart," he said with a smirk. She didn't react, but the sound of his voice was enough to rouse Sam. His head popped up, his eyes narrowed against the dim brightness of the room. His hair looked like it had been used for a bird's nest and then trampled by buffalo.

"Awesome bed hair, Sammy," Dean commented.

Sam's brow furrowed and he ran his hand through his hair in an automatic movement. Much as Dean had done, his next glance went over to Sadie who was still watching them quietly. Catching his glance, she smiled slightly, then turned back to the TV.

Dean didn't miss the exchange and he definitely wasn't loving it. He didn't like her playing up to Sam, he was a bit too vulnerable to pretty girls with very not pretty sides, and he didn't want to see his little brother hurt again. It was obvious he'd had a bad night. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale. Dean knew he was a shitty patient, he was surprised Sam hadn't smothered him with a pillow yet. As soon as this whole succubus thing was dealt with one way or the other, he was going to insist that his little brother get some sleep. Even if he had to sit on him.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked Dean, casting his eyes carefully over his brother. Dean looked good, still a bit wan and stiff with pain wrinkles around his eyes, but much better than he had.

Dean's eyes lingered on Sadie a moment more, assessing and warning, then moved back to Sam. Dean sat up, favoring his left side, but there was no increased pain in his head. A couple of acetaminophen and he would be good as new. "Not too bad, actually. In fact, I'm feeling well enough that I think it's time we discuss why we have a succubus in our room. Alive," he said purposefully.

Sam sighed. He knew this was coming, but was hoping he might have a bit more time before Hurricane Dean hit. He knew his brother was going to have some serious issues with the decision he'd made regarding Sadie, he was just hoping he could talk Dean around to understanding why he had made those choices.

Dean levered himself out the bed, stretching to ease the kinks in his back, grimacing as the sore muscles in his torso twisted. "I'm going to hit the head and when I get back, you're going to start talking. Both of you," he warned, eyeing both of them with varying degrees of threat. He disappeared into the bathroom, the door shutting the door with a forceful slam.

Head falling back onto the pillow, Sam held back a groan. He was still exhausted. His bones hurt with it. Along with the interrupted sleep he'd managed to get, he'd had nightmares for what felt like the entire night. Familiar ones, with Jess on the ceiling, Dean dying in some fashion, now the new addition of killing that kid he'd seen in the memory from the parking lot. Then there was the unfamiliar; faces he'd never seen, places he hadn't been, creatures he'd never killed. The memories he'd acquired while running around topside while his soul burned were starting to leak through, like a chunk of ice freeing itself from a glacier, exposing what was hidden underneath. How much was there before he hit his soul's memories of hell? How much time did he really have?

The sound of the running water shutting off in the bathroom told him he'd better get moving. Sam rolled out of bed and headed over to Sadie. She turned to greet him with a smile and shut off the TV.

"Hey," he greeted. "Bathroom?" he asked uncertainly. She wasn't like any other demon he'd seen so far, so maybe it was a necessity.

"Yes please," she said with relief.

Sam smiled and leaned down to remove the cuff. As Sadie stood up, Dean came out of the bathroom. He stared her down as she moved toward him. Sam could tell from the tensing of Dean's shoulders that she wasn't giving an inch. He tried really hard not to smile. It wasn't often his brother got this irritated just from someone not backing down. Dean inspired people to crawl away to corners, he could be damn scary when he wanted to be. Sadie moved past him into the bathroom, closing the door.

Dean just shook his head and headed over to sit gingerly in the recliner. It looked more comfortable that it was, more metal springs than cushion, but he was betting it was more comfortable than the hardback chairs. "I don't like this, Sammy," he commented, looking at his brother with hard eyes.

"Yeah, I got that Dean," Sam sighed as he grabbed the other chair and dragged it over. He plopped into it and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue.

Sam looked over at Dean sitting across from him and decided that he was going to try and get some questions answered. Was it smart? No, Dean would flip out. Was it necessary? Yes, or he was going to flip out. He didn't know when he might have Dean alone again and with what he'd seen last night and what images came through in his nightmares…he couldn't wait anymore. Besides, he had a built in interruption guaranteed if this went as bad as he figured, Sadie wouldn't stay in the bathroom forever.

"Um Dean?" Sam asked tentatively.

Dean looked up at him, his brow already furrowed with suspicion. He didn't like the sound of that. That hesitant little voice had led to more chick flick moments than Dean liked to think about.

Sam almost lost his nerve. Dean was already so pissed off and just spoiling for a fight, did he really want to talk about this now? No, but he truly felt like he didn't have another choice. "When I was…" his voice tapered off again. He was running out of time and he knew it. Thunderclouds were starting to gather in Dean's eyes, turning them a dark shining green. Not a good sign. He knew what was up. Just rip off the band aid, get it done. "Is our grandfather Samuel alive and did I hunt with him?" The words came out in a rush, all running into each other.

At first Sam thought Dean was going to hit him, but it wasn't anger that was twisting his features. It was despair. It was terror. Sam felt a stone lodge in his stomach, twisting and turning. If Dean was scared, then what the hell should he be? God, he was so screwed.

"Something came through, didn't it?" he asked, his voice deep and rough with the emotion he was trying to keep under control. Sam looked so frightened, so fragile. He looked so young, like that little four year old that would climb into his bed when the weather got bad. Dean wanted that look gone, he'd had it gone. How could it be back again so soon?

A few days? A few lousy fucking days was all they got? Death, the most powerful being in the entire fucking universe couldn't manage to build a brain dam that would last more than a couple of weeks? Son of a bitch! Why, why did the world pick the Winchesters to shit on? Why Sammy?

"Yeah, big time," Sam whispered, eyes dropping to the floor. He couldn't bear to see his brother fighting to keep the torment off his face anymore. Watch him push aside his own feelings to be strong for his little brother.

"That's…complicated," Dean finally responded, calmer. He still wanted to punch something really, really hard, but he had expected this to happen. If it sucked beyond words, it was going to happen to them. He just had to figure out how to answer Sam's questions without causing him to want to root around in his head more. If he said nothing, told Sam to shut up and forget about it, that's exactly what would happen. Sam was looking at him with such tragedy and such hope. He really expected Dean to make it better, but Dean didn't know how to fix this and he was terrified that anything he tried was going to make it worse.

He was about to continue when Sadie came back into the room. Both brothers looked over at her, Dean with a curious mixture of animosity and relief, Sam with frustration.

"You want me to go back in, boys?" she asked, jerking her thumb back towards the room she had just left.

"Nah, join the party," Dean responded with his most fake and sarcastic smile. He may have dodged a bullet for now, but he knew he was going to have to answer Sam's questions. Just not now. Fair to Sam? Nope, not even a little, but it was better than Dean screwing up his head more than it already was because he wasn't prepared. Now he had some time.

Sadie crossed the room and sat back down in her chair. Dean nodded toward the cuff, but was hit by a gale force Sammy bitchface.

"Dean, she's not going anywhere. Not necessary," he argued.

Dean considered insisting, but figured Sam was right. She could have cut out during the night, but she didn't. He didn't know why, but oh well. It was her funeral if he didn't like what she had to say.

"So," Sadie said, crossing her legs and leaning back into the chair. "Where should we start?"


Thanks for reading!

TBC