Somewhere in the wintery darkness, a silent figure shuddered.
It had been too long, hiding in the darkness. Shrouded, safe from the world.
Now, finally back on the trail, she recalled the shame that had driven her away, so long ago. What they had done…what they continued to do.
She checked it all one last time- once this went down, she was done. There was no double-checking from this point on, no second chances. She'd staked everything on this, though, in all fairness, she had very little on the line.
Nothing left to do but win.
--
Dean had only intended to have one drink, but the weight of the case dragged him down. To douse his nerves in beer, to wash away the feelings, the sense of doubt, the wavering confidence, it was all he knew how to do, at this point. So he downed one drink after another, unsure what led him to the bar or who the woman beside him was. She didn't seem interested in anything but talking, and he didn't really mind. Talking was not something he was especially practiced at, but she made it easy.
Sam sat in the motel room, alone and empty, overwhelmed by the nothingness that surrounded him. This case was not worth it.
Nothing online led him anywhere, and the data that filled the screen only set him back. Maybe Dean had the right idea. A long line of beers seemed more welcoming than a lackluster attempt at making sense of all this. But one of them had to stay sober enough to stop the other one form doing something fatal. By proxy, that was Sam.
