"Good night, Rachel. You sure your ok, closing up on your own?" Richard said at the door.

Without looking up, Rachel waved at her boss to be quiet for a second while she finished counting the last of the change. When she was done she shut the draw of the cash register and looked out over the bar toward the middle aged man that was her employer.

"Yeah Rich, I'm just gonna clean up and be five minutes behind you." She reassured him. "You've been here all day, go home."

He had been there all day. The little punk that ran the day shift went AWOL on him so Richard had pulled a double shift. The exhaustion showed on his face and Rachel really did feel for the guy.

"Wish I had four more just like you, Rach. Good night, sweetie." He said and went through the door.

Rachel smiled as she watched the kind man step out into the darkness and the door close behind him. It was only seconds later that she realized that she was alone in the deserted bar and silence was pressing in all around her. She hated the silence. She had time to think in the silence and her thoughts weren't something she was friendly with these days.

She moved around the bar, grabbed a tray off the end of it and began the gather the empties at the tables from the back. Right about now would have been the perfect time to pop a few coins into the ancient Juke Box her mother had in the bar back home. Music would fill the air and she could sing along or hum as she did her work and her mind could be filled with the rhythm of the guitar or the beat of the drum.

But Richard had no Juke in his bar like Mom did in hers. So instead all the air was filled with was the sound of her echoing footsteps and the clank of glasses and bottles as she cleared the tables.

Not enough. Not enough to distract her senses and before she knew it, she began to see the hint of hazel-green eyes in her thoughts. The sound of a rich voice hinted in her memory's ear and the thoughts of how wrong she'd done him began to well up in her very being like it always did when she had to think about it.

Her heart growing heavy, she took the full try to the bar and began to unload the longnecks and draft glasses there, thinking to make another sweep before loading the sink up. She heard the door open behind her and felt a tiny bit of relief for the distraction that was about to happen. Rich was a little absent minded, it wasn't uncommon for him to make a trip back for something left behind after he'd left for the day. With this in mind she didn't even bother to turn around, but continued to unload as she spoke.

"Forget something Rich? At this rate you're never getting home and your wife might think you're having an affair with me." She said with a smile.

The voice that answered her was one she recognized, but it wasn't that of her boss.

"I'm sure Rich is half way home by now and his marriage still very secure." Sam Said.

Rachel raised her head and ceased her work but still didn't turn around. Had she summoned a Winchester with her thoughts? Did it matter that she'd been thinking of his brother? Well, what ever it was he was here, she might as well play nice and turn around and acknowledge him.

She did and there he stood. Dean's little brother in all his tall, boyishly hansom glory. His sandy hair a little longer that what she'd remembered from the last time she'd him, he wore blue jeans, a plaid shirt, boots and a tan carhart jacket. He smiled at her and she couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey Sam. You're the last person I'd expect to see here." She said honestly.

"Well, I guess I'm full of surprises. So can I get a beer?" He asked, his face open and friendly like it always was.

Rachel stopped for a moment. Was this a good idea? Why was he here? Dean had stopped calling her and Sam had never tried. There had to be a reason he was here and she had a feeling it wasn't a positive thing if he was reaching out to her for the first time ever since her falling out with him and his brother.

But then it occurred to her that she would never know what it was if she sent him away, and in all honesty she was done pushing people away. She'd pushed Dean until he'd broken and wanted nothing to do with her anymore. She didn't blame him one bit but here Sam was, and she'd always had a soft spot in her heart for him. So yeah, how could a beer hurt?

"Sure. Come sit, one beer comin' up." She said as warmly as she could and headed back behind the bar to grab a Bud, Sam's favorite. She watched him stride across the room and take a seat on one of the stools. She came back around, twisting the cap off the dark brown bottle and settling it in front of him before taking the seat next to him.

She faced him as he took a long swallow of malt inside, propping her elbow on the bar and hooking her heel on the stool rung below her.

"So how'd you find me? I did everything I could not to be found." She said.

Sam shrugged.

"Well, uh, it's kind of what we do, you know?" He offered.

She smile at him again, she should have known better.

"You say we, but you're alone." She observed.

"Yeah, Dean couldn't make it." Sam said again after another swallow.

She tried to hide her disappointment. She'd hurt Dean and even though she still hurt herself, she'd welcome the opportunity to try and make right by him. She when she'd seen Sam standing in the doorway she'd secretly hoped Dean wasn't far behind.

"So what're you doing here Sam? I mean we didn't exactly part on the best of terms." She reminded him.

"Right. Um, well, that's why I'm here." Sam said as he took off his jacket. "I kinda - I wanted to see if we could square things, you know. Enough's enough, don't you think?"

A little buzz went off inside Rachel. Something about Sam's demeanor irked her a tiny bit. She pushed it down, she hadn't been in his company on months on end and knew for a fact that Dean had relayed the message that his fathers final order was that his life be put to an end if he couldn't be saved. Something like that changes a person and it seemed that Sam wasn't the innocent, sweet thing she remembered. She cut him some slack and tried to ignore the feeling.

She watched him shrug out of the jacket and in doing so, she noticed that the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just under the elbow. Right in the crook of his right arm, just below where the fabric was cuffed, stood an angry looking burn mark. She frowned at the sight of it

"Ouch. That looks like it hurts." She commented, looking at the circular mark.

Sam looked down at it and waved a hand in dismissal.

"No. Nah, just, just had a run-in with a hot stove. No biggie." He said.

A perfect round mark from a stove? How did that happen? And in all her travels with the Brothers Winchester she'd bet money on the fact that she'd never seen either of them cook or even boil a pot of water. Dean was the king of bar food so there was never a need. Odd, but she had no reason to doubt him so she didn't say anything.

"So," He said looking back up at her. "can we talk?"

"You're here. Might as well." She said. She tried to sound as warm as she could.

"Look, I know how you feel about my dad. And I can't say I blame you. He was obsessed - consumed with hunting. And he didn't care who got caught in the cross-fire. And I guess that included your dad. But that was my father. That's not me."

"I know that. I guess I was just afraid that it was who Dean was when I first found out. Took me a while to reason with my self that he's not but by then it was too late." She answered honestly.

"Well, Dean's more like my father than I am, that's for sure. You sure you made the right choice, deciding that's not who he is?" Sam asked and took another long drink of beer, waiting for her to answer.

The buzz ran through her again, way he said that, his tone of voice. She wondered for a second if maybe Sam was angry at Dean and that if that's where the hostility she was sensing Sam had toward him was coming from. She dismissed the thought almost as soon as it passed through her mind. No, this wasn't anger, the venom that veined Sam's voice was deeper than that. And brothers, especially ones as close as Sam and Dean were didn't get to that stage from a fight, no matter how sever.

"Boy. You're really carrying a torch for him, aren't you?" Sam said when she took to long to answer.

She frowned and tilted her head at him, not offended by his question but more preoccupied with the fact that he seemed to have just initiated the shedding of the shell of normal Sam he'd been hiding in since he walked through the door. Like a snake slithering out of it's skin, she saw his expression harden slightly and and his eyes, always so warm in their brown depths, grew colder.

"I'll take that as a yes." He said when she still failed to answer. "It's too bad, you know. Because, see Dean, he's not not the type carry a torch for any one."

The snicker he gave sent a chill through her. She heard his words, heard that they were trying to hurt her, but all that was background to her. The foreground of this conversation was Sam's persona. She'd never seen him like this; cruel and harsh.

"I hate to say, Rachel" He continued "But I'm afraid you'll never be more to him then a piece of ass."

"Why are you doing this Sam?" She asked. "Why did you come here tonight?"

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Rach." He said, his voice becoming mockingly gentle, his eyes softening in faux compassion. The look was so perverted that it was almost hard to look into those warm brown depths because she knew how capable of true tenderness they were. "I'm telling you 'cause I care."

He placed his hand over hers on the bar and Rachel felt something she never thought she would at Sam's touch; disgust. She forced herself not to try to withdraw from him. She was going to handle this gently because the air around them had gotten thick with the promise of turbulence. The best thing to do right now was back away slowly. She just looked down at their joined hands as he spoke again.

"I mean it. I care about you a lot." He said again in those false, honeyed tones.

The hand over her's tightened and became possessive with his suggestive words.

"Sorry Sam. I get what you're trying to say but unfortunately I only have room to be ass for one Winchester at a time." She gave him a weak smile.

She gave her hand a little tug under his to try to escape his touch. Just like she knew he would, he tightened his grip, forcing her to look back up at him.

The smile was gone, his eyes became intense and he spoke the next words as if he'd taken them from his heart

"I can be more to you, Rachel."

The moment hung in the air between them. Rachel's heart raced in her chest and in that moment Rachel realized something horrible: This wasn't Sam.

She didn't know what, or who this was but this wasn't the Sam she'd hunted with, cared about...loved. This was a monster of some kind and she needed to get away from him.

She threw caution out the window. If she had to fight her way out of here she would but she couldn't stand being alone with him for another second.

"Maybe you should leave, Sam." She said softly.

His face hardened. His eyes narrowed with what could only be scorn and he shoved her hand away from him as he stood up.

"Okay." He said.

With one final glare he walked away toward the door. Rachel watched for a second but then stood and turned her back to him as walked out.

She felt a calm rush over her at his withdrawal, she'd figure out what the Hell all that was later but for she was just happy he...She yelped in surprise as strong hands wrapped around her from behind. She knew it was him even before she turned in his grip, pushing at him the whole time, to look up into his face.

"Sam what are you doing?! Let me go!" She cried as she struggled against him.

He towered over her, holding her easily against him as she shoved at him to no avail. his chest was a muscled wall against her and panic rose inside as she realized that there was nothing she could do to over power him.

If she hadn't allowed herself to be snuck up on like this, had kept some distance between them and saw him coming she may have managed to defend herself. She knew how Sam fought, had seen him go hand to hand many times. Her own fighting skills would have kicked in, she wold have used his superior size against him, her own slightness to her advantage, she would have gotten in a few punches or a swift kick to the groin that would topple him like it did all males. She'd kicked his brothers ass in her mothers bar in the dark, she could have gotten him, too.

But she'd turned her back on him. Trusted that he was leaving and had allowed herself to be caged by him like this, where there was nothing she could do but struggle and push demand to know what he wanted. She couldn't match his strength like this, she was helpless.

"LET ME GO, SAM!" She screamed as she shoved against his chest and shoulders. He looked down at her with a grimace of cruel satisfaction as her battle against him didn't even phase him.

He locked his right arm around the middle of her back. Crushing her in a vice grip against him as he ran a hand over her her hair almost gently, he then fisted a handful of her dark locks and tugged a bit, pulling her head back, exposing her throat to him.

"Sam, please! Please stop, what's gotten into you?" She choked.

He held her head back and lowered his mouth down close to hers. She felt his breath on her face and the whole thing was actually almost sensual, he wasn't pulling the fistful of hair he had, he just held it with a little bit of pressure needed to keep her head back, like a lover would his woman's hair to show his incredible desire for her in the heat of passion.

Only this wasn't her lover and this wasn't a passionate moment. This was SAM FUCKING ATTACKING HER!

while he was distracted in trying to get a kiss from her, she'd managed to free one of her arms from where it was mashed between them and was even able to hook her fingers around the half drunken beer bottled she'd served him that was still sitting there on the bar where he'd left it. Her plan was to smash this over his head and hopefully knock him out, but at the very last second before she as able to get a good grip on it, his hand let go of her hair and shot out to clamp down on her wrist, immobilizing her and her would-be weapon. He raised her hand in his a few inches above the bar and slammed it down with enough force to smash the bottle against the bar, shattering the brown glass and sending the shards and liquid that was left inside spraying everywhere.

She was defenseless and at his mercy once again. She saw his expression tighten once again and with brutal force, he spun her around so her back was to him and bent her over so that her face was inches from the bar.

Still she struggled against him, trying to comprehend the fact that this was Sam she was petrified of right now. She felt disgust roll over her as he began to stroke her hair gently, almost lovingly, his breath in her ear.

"SAM! NO! STOP THIS FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" She howled to no avail.

Was he going to rape her? Oh God, was that what he had in mind? Sam. Her sweet sweet Sam was going to take advantage of her in the worst way a man could take advantage of a woman. She couldn't bear the thought of such a thing but a second later she realized that that wasn't his intention at all.

He once again fisted her hair, this time not softly like before, pulled her head back sharply enough to make her neck ache, then slammed it forward hard.

Her forehead made contact with the with the solid oak of the bar and everything went black.