By unspoken mutual agreement, Samuel and I never brought up our shared demonic issue again. He continued as he always had, researching and hunting and cursing at modern technology. It was endearing, somewhat, especially since Samuel was acting like the octogenarian he would have been if he'd lived.
I, however, became obsessed with finding the Alpha, so much so that I was hunting nearly 24/7. Talk of a vampire? I was there. Mere whisper, rumor, hint of a fang? I was there. I was in Boston and it was in San Diego? Hell, I'd drive for three days straight. It got to the point where Samuel asked Sam to start going with me in order to reign me in.
As it was I lost sight of the bigger picture. I wanted an Alpha. I wanted my revenge. To be able to bury my hands in Louie Lee's chest and play with his squishy bits was everything. And I ended up fucked, both figuratively and literally.
It fell apart maybe two weeks after Crowley had paid us a visit. Sam, Samuel, and I were all going after a vampire that supposedly had direct ties to the Alpha. Now keep in mind: I was a vampire specialist. It was a bloodsucker that had come in and wrecked my life and it was bloodsuckers I killed most often. The only other hunter I knew of who managed to rack up more vamp kills than I did was a guy named Gordon Walker. Last I heard he was dead.
The point is this: I was used to going straight for the beheading, none of this capture crap. It made it ten times harder to do the job and it made it ten times easier to fuck it up. Which is why when I ended up cornered by the son of a bitch we'd been tracking I went for the kill instead of the cripple.
Sam and Samuel found me standing over the corpse in the warehouse it had led us to. Samuel was understanding at least; he guessed rightly what had happened. It was a setback, but it didn't put us really too much farther from where we'd been. There had been no guarantees the vamp had known about the Alpha; all we had regarding the validity of that claim was conjecture. The older man clapped me on the shoulder and just said we'd get the next one.
Sam didn't say a thing.
Back at the motel, Samuel headed for his own room and I headed for mine. Sam followed me. I slammed the door in front of him hoping he'd get the hint, but, of course, he didn't. "What the fuck, Eva?"
I threw my boots at him. "Get out."
"You just couldn't hold back one fucking time!" he shouted. "If you weren't so stupid we would be one step closer to getting the Alpha Vamp."
"Yeah, one step!" I yelled up at him, one finger extended. I nearly rammed it up his nose. "One! I'm not letting myself get maimed for one fucking step."
"You weren't in any danger," he scoffed. "All you had to do was push the bastard and you would've been fine. Instead you go and shit on all the work we did the past day and a half!"
Sam's theory on what I should have done barely stepped over into the realm of possibility; he knew (or at least he should have known) that split second decisions involving murderous monsters always led to killing them rather than risk another human death. "Go fuck yourself, Sam."
"Yeah? How about you don't be such a dumb bitch next time?"
I'd punched him in the chin before even realizing that my fist was clenched. He rubbed his face and shot that unnatural smirk down at me.
My next swing Sam dodged. He grabbed my arm as he twisted away. I ended up with my back crushed against his chest, my limb held tight against my front. My free elbow jabbed backwards. Sam let out a grunt and released me.
I thought we were done at that point and marched for the door. As soon as I opened it he slammed it shut. I turned around and popped my knee up. That tree trunk of a leg of his moved to block it.
My knuckles landed square on his cheek, but he grabbed the next two followups, pressed me back, and wrenched my wrists up above my head. "You done?" he snarled at me nose-to-nose after spitting a gob of blood onto the floor.
"Not even close." I lifted my legs, quickly wrapped them around his waist, leaned into his face… and clamped down with my teeth. Sam roared in outrage but couldn't dislodge me without ripping his lip off. He let my arms go, probably to push me off, and I grabbed two handfuls of his hair.
We careened off of the dresser and smashed into the flatscreen. In one of those moves that always seems too fast for his size, Sam twisted around and fell to the bed on top of me. I felt him wrench open my jeans, one button popping off and flying who knows where. Before I could figure out what he was up to I had to release his skin to draw in a gasp; he'd managed to shove a hand down between my legs, into my underwear, and slide a finger straight into me.
This was the first intimate contact I'd had with the man. Not even so much as a kiss before this point. It wasn't to say that I wasn't attracted to him, especially with Sam's post-Hell habit of working out every chance he got. The problem was his attitude: the selfishness, the lies, the newfound sociopathy. I would eventually discover the why of it all, but in the meantime all I knew was that Hell had turned him into a tremendous asshole.
There was no way I wanted to be in this situation with New Sam, but, goddamn, the man knew how to manipulate a woman. My back arched even as I pushed at his hand and his chest. He leaned over and pushed his lips onto mine. I opened my mouth. Our tongues danced as my eyes rolled back into my head, my entire body singing with sensation.
His hand, wet from his ministrations, pulled up and slid across my clit. Our lips parted and I let out a cry. With one hand Sam wrenched my pants and underwear down my hips to tangle around my knees. When I took the opportunity to swing a fist he grabbed it and pulled it across my body.
My legs were trapped in my pants, my arms were pinned, and Sam was unbuckling his belt. He yanked my bottoms off the rest of the way. I kicked out wildly only to have him grab my ankles, spread my legs, and pull me towards him.
As he reached down to manipulate the head of his cock to my entrance I gave his chest a few weak smacks with the sides of my fists. "You done?" Sam whispered hoarsely as he slid himself inside me.
"No," I moaned, whether in answer to his question or to deny my consent I wasn't quite certain.
The rest was hard, lengthy, and just this side of wrong. The two of us battled for dominance the entire time. I'd roll myself on top and ride him for a bit, he'd grab my arms and flip us back over. By the end of it we were both bruised, bleeding (Sam was at least; I'd ripped my nails up his back at one point), and infuriatingly gratified.
He let his weight settle on me as we caught our breath. As soon as he was steady, Sam pushed himself up and headed for the bathroom to clean up. My shirt was ruined; at one point he'd simply tore it down the neckline. I'd retaliated in kind. He tossed his rag to bathroom floor, mine I hurled to the other side of the room. My lips twisted in disgust as I saw the blue and purple fingerprints developing on my forearms. That motherfucker.
Sam came out and narrowed his eyes at me. We stared at each other silently, still furious. He turned on his heel and left the room. I vented the rest of my feelings by taking a blade from my bag and throwing it into the door where his head had been a moment before.
That wouldn't be the last time we'd fuck in anger. I was too emotionally crippled to respond in other ways and Sam… well, New Sam had no real emotions to begin with.
Eventually he came to the realization that I was a conveniently available female body. Sam had picked up the habit of calling escorts whenever we stayed more than a day in a larger town. I know now that it was because he wanted the relief without the emotional baggage, but at the time I just thought it was gross and pathetic. In any case, the prostitutes cost money; I submitted with varying degrees of fuss depending on how pissed we were with each other.
The sex was… varying. Sometimes we'd break the room, knocking down furniture, pounding into the walls, leaving fluids on tables. Other times the sex was almost gentle, a mockery of lovemaking, with every stroke and gentle kiss nothing more than means to an end.
I enjoyed myself quite a bit, I'll admit it. Sam was in peak physical shape, healthily endowed, and never lacking in stamina. In fact, I endured it better when it was rough. At least those times I could say it was "angry" sex and my heart was completely uninvolved. It was those soft nights that broke me down.
The contrast between his near-reverent touches and his pragmatic demeanor left me in turmoil. I could pretend that Sam and I were some normal couple (attachments, commitments, and all) while he was inside me, but once he had accomplished his end the illusion shattered. He'd wait until his heart slowed, get up, and, more often than not, leave to do… whatever it was he did. And I would be left to try and grasp what the fuck just happened.
After one such night, some five months after Crowley's visit, I finally let myself cry. Futile leads to the Alpha Vampire, little sleep, and Sam's bewildering mannerisms had me twisted into a tight, anxious knot. As soon as he let the door shut I curled into a tight ball wept.
I let loose hoping to get this surge of emotion over and done with. I certainly wasn't expecting someone to gather me up in their arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his cheek resting against my hair. "I'm so sorry."
"Castiel?" The feel of the angel's trench coat beneath my fingers was shockingly familiar.
"Yes."
I drew away. "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked as I covered myself with the sheet.
"I… um…" Both my nudity and my question seemed to have flustered him.
"No, seriously."
Castiel gave a lugubrious sigh. "I saw… I knew you were in distress."
"How?"
"I've healed you from death. It causes… a sort of a bond."
In retrospect, the lie that fell from the angel's lips should have been obvious. I'd learn he'd been spying on all of us for a good long time with the best of misguided intentions. At the time, however, I was too naive to take it as anything but the truth.
"Oh. Okay." I wiped my eyes with the heel of my hand. "I'm fine now. You can go."
"Are you hurt?"
Physically? No. If anything I was incredibly, sexually satisfied. Emotionally? "Nothing you can fix."
"I'm… I'm sorry."
He sounded guilty. I assumed it was for being unable to fix my dilemma. Of course, like a lot of things during this time, it was for something else entirely. "Don't be. But thank you, Cass, just for coming."
I gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. The angel was flustered by the gesture, the skin I'd just marked reddening. A rush of wings later and he was gone.
Castiel's visit bolstered my confidence. I'd been wallowing in loathing over my failure to either resist Sam's advances or find the Alpha. It was time to bring someone else into the mix, someone who could maybe take one of those issues off my hands.
It was time to go see Dean.
Why hadn't I gone weeks or months before? To be honest, like everyone else, I had convinced myself that Dean was better off where he was at. Bobby had made it clear: Dean's reprieve from hunting was a godsend. He had a family, a woman he loved (although I still question the validity of this), and peace. Unlike the rest of us, Dean might actually die at the ripe old age of 85 from something mundane and stupid like a heart attack or a stroke rather than having been eviscerated or exsanguinated or any of a number of horrifically bloody events.
Sam, too, claimed the same, but after being in his bed for almost half a year I knew better. The man lied as easily as he breathed. Whatever Sam's reasons for keeping Dean out of our lives they had nothing to do with concern for his brother's welfare.
I was… well, I was also deeply ashamed. In my opinion this whole situation with Sam was my own damn fault. How could I possibly explain to anyone that a big, tough hunter like me let herself get fucked stupid every night by some asshole? I didn't want the coddling or the pity that would ensue, but I couldn't see any other options.
I got dressed right after Cass left, road leathers and all. We were in Michigan and it would take me several hours to get to Cicero. I'd hopefully land on Lisa's doorstep sometime early in the morning. I pulled out from the parking lot in a rush, helmet on and Beethoven's 9th blasting, and headed south.
The doubts didn't start screaming until I spotted Lisa's driveway. I slowed my bike and took off my helmet so I could think. This was stupid. Bobby's opinions against disrupting Dean's new, idyllic life kept echoing in my head. Who was I to make him responsible for his brother's shitty attitude? I needed to get myself some balls and handle this myself.
Of course, the moment I decided to go is when Dean strolled out the front door on his way to work. He stopped short at the sight of me, gaping like he'd seen a ghost. I sighed resignedly and waited for him to approach. "Dean."
"Eva? What the hell are you doin' here?"
To tell or not to tell? I knew the second Sam's name dropped from my mouth everything would change. The last thing I wanted to become was the catalyst that would destroy the life Lisa and Dean had built together. "Never mind," I mumbled as I started to jam my helmet back on.
"Oh, no you don't," Dean growled. He smacked my headgear out of my hands. "I can't think of a good reason why you're here other than something being really fucking wrong. So either you tell me, or we're gonna have a problem."
He hadn't been hunting; Lisa had told me that much at least. It didn't mean he was any smaller or any less dangerous. Still, I could have stepped away. But when I looked into his eyes, that shade of green and hazel so like his brother's, I was forced to swallow back tears. "This was stupid," I whispered. "I need to go."
"Eva," Dean sighed. "At least come in and rest for a bit. I'm bettin' you were driving all night. You got that look."
Reluctantly, I followed him into Lisa's home. She gave a surprised query upon seeing him return and, after seeing me, blurted out an obscenity. "Holy shit! Eva?" The woman gave me a hug. "It's been so long! How have you been?"
I resisted telling her the truth. Instead, I forced myself to smile. "Just tired. Wanted to check in."
She turned to Dean. "Don't you need to go to work?"
"Ed can handle it," he said. "I'll call. Be right back."
He left us standing awkwardly in the foyer. I wasn't lying; I was dead on my feet. Lisa shook her head at me when I started swaying and began leading me into the kitchen. "At least let me get some coffee in you."
"Thanks," I mumbled as I sat at their dining table.
It took me a bit to realize we had company. The tween swallowed his cereal before asking. "Who're you?"
"Friend of Dean's," I told him. "Just came by to say hello."
"What's your name?"
Curious little shit. "Eva. And you must be Ben."
"Yup."
I could see Lisa had been telling the truth about his parentage; there was very, very little resemblance to Dean in this slightly portly child. "Nice to meet you, I guess." He was about the same age my brother had been…
"Dean's talking about leaving. It's your fault, isn't it?"
"Ben!" Lisa hissed as she put coffee, creamer, and sugar in front of me.
"Probably." Most definitely. I dumped a bunch of everything into my drink and began to sip.
"Can you change his mind?"
Poor kid. He must have gotten really attached to Dean these past few months. "It's not my mind to change. But if he does go, I'll do my best to make sure he comes back."
"Thanks."
"Yeah, no problem."
Lisa hauled her son up by the elbow. "C'mon, kiddo. You take any longer and you'll miss the bus."
Ben gave the expected grumpy answers before kissing his mother on the cheek. He passed Dean on his way out, and the affectionate smile the man gave the boy made me feel even more terrible. "We're good," Dean told Lisa. "Can you give us a bit?"
Lisa glanced unhappily between me and him. I could understand why; despite my denials to the contrary Dean certainly acted as if there had been something between us. "Yeah, okay."
"Thanks." He gave her a kiss, which softened her expression a bit, before gesturing at me to follow him. I gave Lisa an apologetic grimace before complying.
Dean led me to the garage where his Chevy was sitting covered carefully with a large tarp. "Well?" he asked as he settled on the hood.
I sighed and started pacing. "I thought I needed help."
"With?"
Your dickhead of a brother. No, couldn't tell him that. "It's not a big deal."
He rolled his eyes. "Eva, you look like shit." Thanks. "Was it a hunt gone bad? Do you need help takin' something down?"
"I would never."
"Why not?" Dean seemed honestly perplexed.
"Because you're out! Why would I want to mess that up?"
"I'm still here. I didn't vanish off of the face of the Earth."
"Look, they told me to leave you be!" I was getting exasperated with his cavalier attitude. "You've got Lisa and Ben and this whole white-fucking-picket fence life! They all said you were happy, better off where you were, and that you don't get to die bloody like the rest of us."
Dean shook his head and wiped a hand down his face. "Maybe. Maybe not. And who's 'they'?"
Ah, crap. "You know. Bobby."
"That's a 'him' not a 'they'."
I sat down on the hood and stared despondently at the floor. Time to let some of it go. "Crowley found me. He wanted me to help out these guys he's got working for him. He dumped me with a family of hunters. Your family."
"That's impossible. All our family's dead."
"Not on your mother's side."
"Wait." Dean sat there for a bit, grasping for words. "You tellin' me that there are Campbells still out there hunting? And they're willingly being Crowley's bitches?"
"Sort of."
"What the shit, Eva?" he cried as he leapt to his feet. He loomed over me and folded his arms. "Why wouldn't you tell me something so fucking important?"
"Because Sam told me not to, okay?" I shouted.
Dean paled. "What?"
Oh, fuck me and my big mouth. I looked away. "Sam's alive."
He sat heavily back down on the hood of his car. "How?" he whispered.
"Dunno."
I gave Dean some time to digest the information. After a minute or so the shock of it wore off and joy lit up his face. "Well, shit! Let's go."
"Go?" Dean was beginning to uncover his car. I stopped him by slapping down the canvas. "Go where?"
"Where do you think? To see Sam!"
"No!"
"Well, why the hell not?"
Dean's euphoria was melting into anger. I'm sure a lot of it was him figuring out that my insistence on not going meant that something was wrong. Well, no use sugar coating it now. "Your brother isn't right."
"He just got out of Hell, Eva. Of course he ain't right!"
"Not 'just'." Time for the first bomb to drop. "Almost a year."
Dean stiffened. "Excuse me?"
"He's been topside for almost a year."
"Are you—" He ran his hand down his face. "You telling me that my brother has been back from Hell for a fucking year and he never came to see me?"
"Yes."
Dean stepped up and snarled in my face, "And you couldn't tell me?"
I folded my arms and gritted my teeth. "Your brother didn't want me to."
"Bullshit! There's no fucking way Sammy would have gotten out of Hell and not come to see me." His furious glower deepened. "Did you do something? Was this some kind of jealousy thing? You told me you weren't gonna hold me to anything that happened that night!"
"Fuck you, Dean." All right, I'd had enough of this emotional swing. Time to get off. I shoved Dean out of the way and walked over to the other side of the garage.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and willed the tears back. After a few minutes, Dean sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just… I don't know."
"Sam didn't want you around." I kept my face to the darkness, my hands tightly gripping the opposite elbows as I continued stomping down on the waterworks. "I don't know why. He never told me.
My shoulders slumped. A few treacherous tears slipped down my cheeks. Dean walked up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Hey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said."
I shrugged it off and gave an indelicate sniff. "Let's just make a plan before we go anywhere."
Lisa was understandably perturbed to be excluded from our conversation, but when Dean blurted out that his brother was alive she left us alone. I'm certain that she was sitting at the top of the stairwell listening in even though Dean made it clear that there was nothing she needed to worry about.
"We were in Michigan when I bailed," I told Dean after we'd sat at the dinner table and popped open some beers. "Even if Sam figured out I was heading here it'll take him some time."
"Good." He took a swallow. "So explain to me exactly how Sam's different. Then we can figure out how to handle this."
I took a long pull from my bottle before answering. "It's like his heart is gone. No one matters to him. People in his way are collateral instead of victims to be rescued. Dean, I watched him shoot a woman because the thing that took her tried to use her as a hostage."
"The fuck…" He stared off in the distance. "That don't sound like Sammy at all. You sure he ain't a shifter or a demon?"
I shook my head. "Did all the tests. It's Sam's body at least."
"What did Cass say?"
"I didn't exactly have time to ask," I said irritably.
"Maybe we should talk to him first?"
"He's busy." Doing what, I had no idea. "Look, even Bobby thinks you shouldn't get involved with anything anymore. You've done enough."
Dean leaned back and folded his arms. "Maybe."
"Maybe, my ass." I plunked my empty bottle down. "Look, are you happy?"
"I dunno. Kind of. I… I mean, yeah. I am. But it's Sam, Eva. If something's wrong then I need to know what!"
"If you're happy you need to stay. I'll go find out." There really wasn't another choice. I knew Lisa was content with the way their life was going and I couldn't bear to be the harbinger of their separation.
"I can't ask you do that," Dean said quietly.
"You're not. I'm telling you what I'm going to go do. When I find out, I'll call."
"Dean."
We both turned at Lisa's quiet inquiry. I knew she was listening. "Lise?" Dean asked apprehensively.
"Can we talk?"
"Yeah." Lisa turned away and Dean chugged down the rest of his beer. "Worst three words for any guy to hear," he muttered as he left the room.
I contemplated the bottom of my bottle as the two of them headed upstairs to converse. Should I tell Dean that Sam and I slept together? Why should he even care about that anyways? Not as if we were a couple. Just sex. Room destroying, emotionally devastating sex.
Shit. I hadn't even told him that the Campbells I'd mentioned were centered around his resurrected grandfather. This was just getting more and more complicated. Damnit, coming here had been a mistake. Best thing to do would be to leave. With luck Sam would be charging this way and we'd miss each other in between.
I snuck towards the door, but as I opened it I heard the thumps of someone hurrying down the stairs. So much for my quiet getaway. "The hell you goin'?"
I lifted my arms and let them drop. "Nowhere, apparently." When I looked over there was a weirdly boyish grin on Dean's face. "What?"
"Time to let Baby out of her playpen," he said eagerly as he hurried by me.
"Is that a euphemism for your car?" I called after him. "It's really disturbing!"
Turns out that Dean and Lisa had decided to try to make it work, with her at home and him on the road hunting. I suppose if there were any other hunter/civilian couples out there they dealt with the same sort of issues. Not something I could have handled on either end but that's just me.
Lisa agreed to watch my bike and I hopped into the Impala. We decided to hit Bobby's first. Figured it was time to let him in on this whole mess. Dean was so hyped up about driving the Chevy again that I didn't argue about sharing the labor. After the last twelve hours all I wanted to do was sleep.
When I woke up it was dawn and we were bumping our way down the dirt road into the Singer Salvage Yard. Bobby was, of course, already awake and the first thing Dean did was ask whether or not he knew Sam had been running about for a year. When Bobby confirmed that he had, the two ripped into each other about whether or not concealing the fact had been the right thing to do. I let them have their spat and went to make coffee.
Bobby took my tale of Sam's new personality with a surprising amount of calm. Again, I left out my issues. Did my best to make it sound like the entirety of the story was that I'd gotten blackmailed into helping the Campbells and that Sam 2.0 was freaking me the fuck out. "What do you think he is?"
"Hell if I know," Bobby said with a shrug. "If he not reacting to the usual stuff then maybe it's something new."
"There ain't no such thing as 'something new'," Dean refuted.
"Well, then what did Cass say?"
"He's not some kind of angelic Google," I said irritably.
"Could try to contact him anyways," Dean said, "see if he could spare a couple minutes."
"How?" I wondered.
The pair glanced at one another, confused. "How you normally do it," said Dean.
"Which is?"
"Prayer," Bobby answered. "Ain't that how you've been getting ahold of him all this time?"
"No, Cass just… drops in randomly." They exchanged looks again. "What?"
"Nothin'. Just the only person he used to do that to was Dean."
Maybe I'd exposed myself to the angel one too many times. Karma coming back to bite me in the ass. "Okay, so. Prayer." I wracked my brain. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray for Castiel to come and hear me peep."
"Nice," Dean commented.
"Shut up. Hey, Cass."
"Hello," the angel said from behind the elder Winchester.
"Did you know about Sam?" Dean demanded as he swiveled around.
"Yes."
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
The argument that followed was parallel to the one that Dean and Bobby had. Dean was still pissed about not being told his brother was alive while Castiel was irritated that his friend didn't appreciate that the angel had taken a break from a civil war to help us out. I took the time to refill my coffee.
"Civil war?" I asked as I came back in.
The angel nodded. "The archangel Raphael wishes to rule Heaven and return to our original path towards the Apocalypse. I am trying to prevent it."
"And that excuses you not takin' five minutes to tell me about Sam?" Dean snapped.
"Dean," Castiel said angrily, "my 'people skills'—" the angel waggled two fingers on each side of his head, "—are 'rusty'." That wasn't the right place to do that. "Pardon me, but I have spent the last 'year'—" I'm not sure who taught Cass how to use air quotes but they didn't do a good job, "—as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. I don't know who brought Sam back and I don't know why he is acting 'wrong'." He got the last one right at least. "If I had answers I would give them."
"Then figure out how to fix him!" Dean demanded. "Cass, he went to Hell for us, remember? We owe him."
"Ask Crowley," I suggested.
"Excuse me?" Bobby asked indignantly.
"He's the King of Hell. Shouldn't he know what's going down in his little Kingdom of the Damned?"
"King of Hell?" Dean repeated incredulously. He looked at Castiel. "Please don't tell me that someone put Crowley in fucking charge." The angel didn't answer. "Well?"
"You didn't want to be told."
Exasperated, Dean palmed his face. "Forget it." He turned to me. "You said he was in Michigan?"
"Wendigo hunt, yeah."
"You call him from Bobby's phone, tell him you're sorry or something. Ask him to meet you here."
Bobby nodded approvingly. "We got everything here to retest. If nothin' else we can lock him up downstairs until we figure it out."
"Ugh, fine!" I groaned. "God, I hate being bait."
I went over to Bobby's wall of phones and picked up the one that wasn't cover for some agency. Sam didn't pick up the first time I called, but the second time he answered with a belligerent, "Bobby? What?"
"Rude."
"Oh. Eva. Figures that's where you'd go."
I took a moment to gather myself before responding. It wouldn't do our plan any favors if I cussed him out and hung up. "Look, Sam. We need to talk."
"What for?"
"You know."
Sam gave an irritated sigh. "Fine. I'll be there tomorrow morning. Don't go anywhere else."
Without answering, I banged the phone down on the receiver and swiped nearly everything else that was on the desk straight to the floor. Bobby let out a "Hey!" in response to my callous treatment of his belongings. My fingers gripped my hair as I paced for a minute and tried to get my fury under control.
I'm sure Dean meant to be comforting when he put his hand on my arm. The fist I plunged into his stomach was far more therapeutic. "That's for making me call your fucking asshole of a brother." I left him bent over and groaning and stormed out the front door.
Bobby followed me. "You wanna tell me now what all that was about?"
"What was what all about?"
"You makin' a mess and punching Dean."
This really wasn't a conversation I wanted to have with Bobby of all people. The man had acted like a father, or at least a close uncle, ever since he'd rescued me. He didn't need to hear about me and Sam and our naked shenanigans. "Just stress."
"I suppose," he said, clearly not believing me. "Anyhoo, I'm gonna make sure Dean ain't puking on my carpet. You take as much time as you need to cool down, y'hear?"
"Yeah."
Bobby headed back to the house and I went to the clearing where Castiel and I had sparred all those months ago. The detritus had returned, but it was still nice and isolated. I spent a good hour just leaning against a tree with my eyes closed, my fingers tapping against the ground as I played Chopin on an imaginary piano. Music had always been my source of zen, but it wasn't as if I could haul a keyboard around on a motorcycle.
By the time I was down to non-homicidal levels the sun was dropping. I headed back to the house and offered to get food as a peace offering. We had to-go diner meals (burger for Dean, meatloaf for Bobby, BLT for me), went over our plans for Sam, and said good night.
I woke with the dawn, Dean shortly afterwards. He scrambled some eggs, I made coffee, and when a grumpy Bobby stumbled in the three of us ate. As Dean was tipping our dishes into the sink he looked out the window and stiffened. "What kind of douchemobile is that?"
I stood beside him. "Dodge Charger. Older model." Hey, my brother had been obsessed with cars. I remembered a thing or two.
"Whatever. We ready?"
Bobby nodded before walking out the front door. I took up my position and Dean took his.
Sam walked in to see me sitting on the stairs, a faux scowl on my face. He lifted an eyebrow. "What's that look for?"
"Because I missed you so much."
Unsurprisingly (at least to me), Sam waltzed right through the devil's trap Bobby had sketched above the door. He stopped in front of me and loomed threateningly, arms crossed. I was sitting on the third step and his height made the gesture rather intimidating. "Why the hell did you leave?"
"You know why," I replied quietly.
Sam barked out a derisive laugh. "What, were you mad about me taking off? Wanted to cuddle? Talk about our feelings? Don't be such a needy slut."
"Oh, fuck you!" I leapt to my feet and stabbed a finger into Sam's chest. Several months worth of pent-up anger spilled over. "You made it pretty goddamn clear what you wanted. I was a nearby body to fuck and you got it whenever, didn't you? Hell, I'm surprised you didn't just stake me down to a bed with my legs spread!"
"Why would I do that?" he replied, that vicious little twist on his lips. "You're so much more fun to fuck when you fight back."
Before I could retaliate, Dean slammed the door closed, announced, "Hiya, Sammy!" and punched his astonished brother on the jaw.
Sam's back slammed onto the floor. Seeing that he was still conscious, Dean straddled his chest and gave him several good whacks to the face.
Once his brother was out, Dean stood up and stared at me. Through my peripheral I could see Bobby doing the same. I turned around without speaking and hurried up the stairs to the spare bedroom. After banging the door shut I sat down on the ground with my back against the mattress and my arms on top of my knees.
Bobby and Dean busied themselves with tying up Sam and locking him in the panic room. I stayed where I was. The plan had been to expose Sam's new nature with the hope that something he'd say would have given some clue as to what he was. Initially I'd planned on directing the conversation to the bag and tag operation with the Campbells. Thanks, Sam, for pushing the wrong buttons and derailing everything.
A soft knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. "Eva?"
"Fuck off," I called.
Dean didn't bother following instructions and cautiously creaked open the door. "I'm coming in."
Maybe if I ignored him he'd get the hint. I lay the side of my head on my arms and closed my eyes. Being the stubborn dumbass that he is, Dean just sat down beside me. When the silence became too much to bear, I finally said, "In most cases, 'fuck off' means 'go away'."
"Yeah, not gonna happen." He sighed. "I gotta ask. Were you… Did he…?"
"No," I said, annoyed. Didn't need to add any more fuel to this fire.
Dean shifted, clearly uncomfortable with this whole line of questioning. "Okay. But were you two…? I mean, was it like a relationship or something?"
"Like boyfriend and girlfriend and holding hands and shit?" I huffed out a small laugh. "It was just sex."
"Didn't sound like it."
I shrugged. "It's my fault for giving in that first time. I made my bed and I ran from it. End of story."
Dean leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "You know, I'd kept up this hope that maybe you were wrong, or that maybe things weren't as bad as you made them out to be. But listening to him down there… Sammy's never said that sort of shit to a girl. Never." He closed his eyes. "Bobby did the holy water, salt, silver knife tests. Nothing. Even took his damn temperature and looked for fangs."
"Told you."
"I know you don't want us bothering Cass, but we're out of options."
"Okay."
Dean wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I stiffened. "I know Sam's not gonna say it anytime soon, so I'm gonna say it for him. I'm sorry, Eva."
I closed my eyes and finally let the tears fall. At least part of this nightmare was over.
Castiel couldn't come right away, understandably, so we waited impatiently in Bobby's study. The three of us pored through various texts looking for clues to Sam's behavior and came up with squat. After a while, Sam woke up and his indignant yells echoed up from the basement stairwell.
"Not it," I claimed. Bobby echoed me.
"Fine," Dean groused. He plopped down the book he'd been not really reading and headed downstairs.
Dean's somewhat anxious and Sam's pleading tones drifted to us. "I've been meaning to ask," Bobby started to say. "Are you—"
"I swear if you ask me if I'm okay I will burn this book."
Bobby took a moment or two to unclog his panic before croaking out, "Just checking."
"Cass?" Dean suddenly shouted from down below. "What the fuck—Bobby!"
The two of us shot to our feet and raced to the basement. Dean was swinging the metal door open and allowed Sam's screams to fly out unfiltered. The three of us came to a bewildered halt upon seeing what Castiel was doing: his hand was deep inside of Sam's belly, no gore or fluids in sight, making a weird glow illuminate branches of blood vessels going up the man's neck.
A long thirty seconds passed while we waited for the angel to finish whatever it was he was doing. He was concentrating intensely and none of us wanted to be the peripheral cause of Sam's evisceration. Eventually, slowly, Castiel withdrew his arm and left Sam panting and hurling curses at the same time. As Bobby hurried over to see to his brother, Dean demanded, "What the fuck, Cass?"
"I needed to check."
"For what? His liver?"
Castiel glanced at me. "I had a theory."
"And?"
"I believed Sam's soul was missing. And it is."
All four of us lowly humans stared at the angel in disbelief. "That's not possible," Dean said.
"So where is it?" I asked.
"My guess is still in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer."
"Well, then just get it back," Dean told him. "You pulled me out."
Wait, what? I lost my chance to question that statement as Castiel snapped, "It took several angels to rescue you, and you weren't nearly as well guarded. Sam's soul is in Lucifer's Cage. There's a difference, a big difference. It's not possible."
"Okay, well, there's got to be a way."
"Back up," I interjected. "Cass got you out of Hell?"
"Long story," Dean answered.
"He made a crossroads deal. I flew in with my garrison and battled demons until we reached him," Castiel summarized.
"Okay, not that long of a story."
I threw my hands up. "Is there an outline for the Winchester saga? A book?"
"Actually…" Castiel cut off at the glares from both Sam and Dean.
"So now what?" asked Sam. He massaged his freed wrists. "You can't keep me locked up forever."
"Bobby!" Dean and I both shouted.
"He was halfway through freein' himself anyways," Bobby grumbled. "And he's right."
"Look," Sam said firmly, "I know I'm not right, but I do know that it's still me. Just… not the same me as before. Cass says we don't have a way to get my soul back so for now you're stuck with soulless guy. You might as well work with me if we want to get any answers."
Dean glared. "I'm going to be watching every move you make."
"Fine."
I'd had enough. I turned on my heel to leave. "Eva?" Bobby asked worriedly. At his voice I paused for a moment, but decided to keep going.
The others continued discussing possibilities and clues. I retreated back into the upstairs bedroom.
I lay down on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. They could convince themselves that they could handle this version of Sam, but I wasn't so sure. Dean and Bobby had yet to spend any significant amount of time with him and therefore hadn't seen the measures Sam would implement to get things done. In his case, always, the ends justified the means, and I was fairly certain bonds of family meant nothing to him.
If Sam was playing nice he had some kind of endgame. Whether it was using us for Crowley's stupid task or just indulging on some whim I had no idea. One thing I knew for sure: if Dean had decided to travel with his brother than the older Winchester was fucked. I couldn't let that happen.
Decision was made. I was going to go along with this farce for as long as possible. And the second Sam turned on us I'd slit his throat myself.
Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes "The Third Man" (SPN 6.03) and "Family Matters" (SPN 6.07).
