Chapter 11: Can You Handle It?

"I know what I saw, Bobby," Dean hissed into the phone.

"We tested him. Salt, silver – everything," Bobby said in the muffled voice of someone propping the phone between shoulder and beard.

Dean shifted on his feet, glancing behind him. Sam was still in the hot-dog line, taller than the rest and conspicuous in his perfectly-pressed suit. A glance to the left and he could see Eli sitting on top of a picnic table, chewing her thumbnail and staring into the wind. "He threw me to that vamp. I'm telling you, it's not my brother."

"Well, then he's something we ain't ever seen before," Bobby said in an even voice. Dean clenched his fists.

"Yeah, or it's fuckin' Lucifer."

"Did you call Cas?" Bobby asked. Dean sighed.

"'Course I called Cas. He's not answering. I don't get him either, man. He went through all this work to get Eli back and then poof, gone the moment she's conscious. Dick won't even come down for her, and with Sam and everything I'm at my worrying threshold." He shot another glance at her. She had been quiet the past few days, too quiet, because now he remembered that she usually talked whenever her mouth was open. He didn't like how she had taken to staring into space, head tilted, like she was trying to figure out exactly who to be. "I want to help, really I do, but all I can think about is Sam and what do you even say to someone who's just had their brain revamped?" He exhaled, feeling exhausted.

"What the hell are you on, boy?" Bobby asked. "Who's Eli?"

"Shit, Bobby," Dean groaned. "I forgot that you haven't been mojo-ed yet."

"What?"

"She's nothing, nobody. I'll explain it later."

"Whatever," Bobby said with an eyeroll so obvious Dean could almost hear it over the phone. "Look, I get it. You're rattled. You're right to be. But when it comes to Sam, let's be professional –"

"Professional?" Dean snapped. "He watched me get turned!"

"What you saw... are you sure that's what you saw?" Bobby asked tentatively.

"Damn it, Bobby, yes. I know," Dean growled.

"Well, you know ain't the same as proof. 'Cause we're talking about –"

"- we're talking about doing something about this, and fast." Dean paused, breathing heavily. "It's not just the vamp, okay? He has been different from the jump. And I think he might have done something to Eli…shit, Bobby, we really gotta get you in the know. Point is, he's freaking me out, okay?"

Bobby groaned. "All right. I'm with you."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Are you?"

He could almost feel Bobby nodding through the phone. "Yeah. I'll hit the books, hard. Just don't shoot him yet, all right? Watch him. We need facts. 'Cause if it ain't Sam... we don't know what it is. And if we're gonna put him down, we need to know how."

"I don't even want to ride in the same car with him, much less work a damn case," Dean grumbled petulantly.

"Get in the car. He's your case," Bobby said in his most crotchety voice.

Dean heard the crunching of boots behind him. A sinking feeling, made up of equal parts fear and nausea, curled in his stomach at the sight of his brother's face, and he shut the phone without a goodbye.

Eli sat on top of an old wooden picnic table, tracing the knots in the wood thoughtlessly. It reminded her of the table she had sat at with Aziraphale and Crowley in another life, a life that never existed.

She stifled a sob, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. "Get it together, Grant," she muttered to herself. "You're supposed to be tough now, remember?"

But remembering was the problem. She remembered everything, two lives lived, two different girls stuffed in one brain. Sometimes she felt like her head was about to break.

There were conflicting memories, like of her twenty-first birthday: One spent getting giggly and wasted with friends, the other spent tracking a dijnn in North Dakota. Or Christmas when she was twenty: It was either napping by the fire full of cookies and surrounded by loved ones in her family's home, or decorating the spindly tree in Bobby's house and then tucking a blanket around the man after he polished off a bottle of whisky. Or the fourth of July when she was twenty-six, which was either a picnic with an ex-boyfriend under the fireworks or stacking explosives in a house to get to a body under the cement basement.

"Fuck," she whispered, rocking back and forth with her head in her hands. She wished Castiel was there to distract her. "Just…stop, brain."

It was difficult to stop. The moment Eli let her mind wander the dual memories rose up, clashing. Sunday brunches with her girlfriends versus greasy diners and too much beer; traveling in Eastern Europe versus being stuck in a car for sixteen hours to get to a vampire nest; going to class versus staying up all night with dusty tomes of folklore. The parallels were dizzying.

Even her body was revolting, trying to change and stay the same simultaneously. Her power level kept fluctuating, pushing at the barriers, trying to be exactly as it was before. It wasn't quite right, though; she couldn't fly, or heal very well, or do much at all besides the basics, and even that exhausted her. She felt nauseous.

"Yo, Eli!" Dean yelled, motioning for her. "Get your ass over here, we're leaving! And if you don't hurry, your hotdog will be in my stomach!"

Eli shook her head, blinking hard. She took a deep breath and hopped off the table. "Coming!"

She was fine, she told herself. She was going to be fine.

Now that she could remember her other life, Sam's behavior seemed doubly strange: his fake smiles, the way his forehead never crinkled with emotion, how his eyes were always flat and calculating.

She watched the way that he interacted with a grieving sister. "You're lying," he was saying with the hint of a snake-grin. The sister looked scared and nervous.

"What?" she asked nervously. Sam fixed her with an unblinking stare.

"Tell us what you did to your sister," he said with clear threat. Eli and Dean shared a pained look.

The sister started to sob. "Okay. You're right. I was lying. I wanted to tell her: I love you, I'm here for you. Oh, but what came out was: You're a burden, just kill yourself. Who says that? I just couldn't stop!" She broke down, unable to speak anymore.

Dean pulled Eli aside as they were approaching the front door. "You see what I mean?" he murmured.

"This is scary, Dean," she whispered. "Real scary. And there's something…I don't know, it's like there's something not there about him, something that should be."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "I can't explain. He's just…lacking. Like an arm has been cut off but no one realizes it's gone."

"Cryptic comments and someone gone darkside," Dean said, then clapped her on the shoulder as they walked out of the house. "I've missed this."

Later that day, Eli was lying on Sam's unused bed, massaging her temples and trying to keep her mind blank. She perked up when she heard Dean talking to Bobby in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, my skin crawls being in the same room with him. Why don't you look that up?" He paused, listening. "I don't know how much longer I can do this, Bobby. You got to figure out what the hell he is and fast." Another pause. "What, Satan's my co-pilot? Yeah, I know….well, what then?" He hesitated, then shook his head vehemently.

"No, Bobby, listen. Even E… someone I consulted knows that something's wrong with him. She said that it's like he's missing something." A pause, a sigh. "Yes, I mean 'that Eli person', no I won't explain right now."

"Hi Bobby!" she piped up from behind Dean's shoulder. Dean swatted her away.

"What? No, it's nothing. You got a day, Bobby, and then I'm handling this." He hung up, and spun on Eli. "What was that?"

"Um, saying hi?" she said, shrugging. Dean glowered.

"He doesn't remember you, stupid. He thinks I'm ten kinds of crazy and shacking up with some chick."

"Oh shit," Eli said, covering her mouth and giggling. "I never thought of that."

"Yeah, we're gonna need to carve him a sigil. If we can get him to say yes, which I doubt."

"Let me handle that," she said, then winced and held her hand to her temple.

"You okay?" Dean asked, steadying her. She nodded.

"Yeah. Just got a lot of new stuff up in my head, you know? My brain's having a hard time sorting through it all."

"Tell me about it," Dean said ruefully. "You hear from Cas at all?"

Eli hesitated before shaking her head. "No."

"Well screw him," Dean said gruffly, starting as his phone rang. He talked briefly with Sam, then hung up and stood. "Come on," he said, grabbing his coat. "Someone else has died."

Dean swigged his whisky, spinning the computer so that Eli could get a better look. "So? What do you think?"

"Gabriel's horn?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know he had one." Dean grinned and opened his mouth and she held her hand out. "Don't. Just…don't."

He chuckled and drained his drink. "Hate to say it, Blondie, but it's nice to have someone to talk to who I'm not afraid is going to kill me in my sleep."

"Oh good, so you didn't see me last night," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. He pointed at her.

"I'm going to take that as a joke."

"I'm just glad the window has such nicely oiled hinges. Swings open without a sound."

"Har har," Dean said. He paused, staring at the picture on the screen. "Still, it would be nice, wouldn't it? Horn of truth. Get all the answers."

"Be careful what you wish for," Eli said cynically. "Especially when it comes to angels."

"Speaking of dicks with wings, what do you think about calling Cas on this one?" He looked at the doubtful expression on her face and his voice softened. "Look, I know it's been tough, him not being around and all. But he did say he's looking for the weapons. So maybe he'll come."

Eli shrugged. "Guess we have no choice. Will you do the honors?"

"Why am I the one who always has to pray?" he asked grumpily, eyeing the whisky bottle across the room. She elbowed him.

"Because you do it so nicely. Come on."

Dean sighed and put the glass down. "Fine. But only because I have a new memory of you giving me pie once." He straightened his shoulders and closed his eyes. "Castiel? Hello? Possible loose nuke down here, angelic weapon. Kinda your department. You hear that, Cas?"

There was the sound of wings. "Hello."

Dean stood, suddenly a lot more belligerent. "Are you kidding me? I have been on red alert about Sam, Eli's had her brain rebooted, and you come for some stupid horn?"

Castiel looked uncomfortable, carefully not meeting Eli's eyes. "You asked me to be here, and I came."

"I - I've been asking you to be here for days, you dick!" Dean sputtered.

Castiel stared at the floor. "I didn't come about Sam because I have nothing to offer about Sam."

"Well, that's great, because for all we know, he's just gift wrap for Lucifer," Dean spat.

Castiel shook his head slowly, looking impossibly exhausted. "No, he's not Lucifer."

Dean had picked up his empty glass, and he was surprised when Castiel reached for the whiskey bottle and unscrewed the top. "And how you know that?"

Castiel stepped forward and refilled Dean's glass. He looked so drained that Dean could barely believe he was an angel. "If Lucifer escaped the cage, we'd feel it."

"What is wrong with him?" Dean asked pleadingly.

Castiel shook his head. "I don't know, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean felt a surge of anger break to the surface. "And what the hell about Eli? You pushed that sigil on her, and had us cover your ass when it blew up in your face, and now she's got to deal with all of the shit you've put on her and you're just gone. She needs you, man, and where the fuck are you?"

"Fighting a war!" Castiel snapped, glaring at him.

Dean rubbed his eyes, exhausted. "What happened to you, Cas? I thought you were supposed to be more human now. I mean, you're not even looking at her!" He spun on Eli. "What is with you? Don't just stand there, say something!"

"Dean…" she said softly.

"I'm at war," Castiel said in explanation. "My time is precious."

"Your time is precious?" Dean said in a passable impression of the angel's rasp. "Are you fucking kidding me? Sam is fucking possessed or something and Eli is like, a brand new person, and you just don't have time for us?"

"How many times can I say this, Dean?" Castiel said in a surly voice. "I am at war. I am constantly in battle. Certain... regrettable things are now required of me."

Dean stared at him, but he didn't offer any more information. Dean sighed. "And Gabriel's Horn of Truth? That's a real thing?"

Castiel perked up. "You've seen it?"

"We think it's in town," Eli said tentatively, stepping forward. "Something's forcing people..."

Castiel was gone.

"Oh, well, you're welcome!" Dean yelled to the room. He swung on Eli. "Seriously, why are you taking this? After what he's done to—"

Castiel reappeared in the room, looking hassled. "It isn't the Horn of Truth."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. "You were gone for like two seconds. Where did you look?"

Castiel shrugged. "Everywhere."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned away. "Right. Well, nice seeing you, anyway."

Castiel met Eli's eye and she nodded slightly. He cleared his throat. "Dean."

"What?" Dean snapped petulantly.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "About your brother. I... I don't know what's wrong with him, but I do want to help. I'll make inquiries." He hesitated, glancing at Eli. "And Eli, I'll, uh…I'll talk to you later."

A fluttering of wings, and he was gone.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah. Thanks." He took a drink, side-eyeing Eli. "And what about you? Since when are you a fucking doormat for angel-boy?" Eli didn't meet his gaze. Dean sighed. "Maybe I was wrong about you, too. I'm going out." He grabbed his coat. "Just…research or something, okay?"

Eli waited until he was out the door to sink onto the bed, her head in her hands. "Shit."

They all met up at the house of 'patient zero', the woman who killed herself days before any of the other suicides occurred. Dean was acting strange, nervous but excited. He waited until they were all gathered in the stairwell to speak.

"What's going on?" Eli asked, readjusting her suit and smoothing down her hair. "What'd you find out?"

"Later," Dean said shortly. "There's a few things I want to ask you, both of you, and you're gonna tell me the truth."

Sam and Eli glanced at each other, and for the first time Eli felt like she was in Sam's court.

"Uh, yeah, Dean," Sam said carefully. "Of course. What are you talking about?" He tilted his head, sizing Dean up. "Whoa. Are you saying you're..."

"I asked for the truth," Dean said, and Eli's mouth dropped, a tendril of worry winding its way through her stomach. "And you know what? I'm getting it. So, like I said, I have a few questions for you. When that vamp attacked me, why did you just stand there?"

For one long tense moment, Sam didn't move, his jaw slack. Then he wrinkled his eyebrows and said, in a convincingly hurt voice: "I didn't. I froze."

"You froze," Dean said flatly. "You have been Terminator since you got back."

"I don't know," Sam said lamely. "Shock? And then it was too late. I feel terrible about it. Believe me. Dean... I can't lie here." He turned on his puppy-eyes full force, but something about it still looked fake. "Do you really think I would let something like that happen on purpose? You're my brother. How could you even –"

"Okay," Dean said, holding up his hands. "Okay. Sorry. I thought… I thought I saw something." He turned to Eli, but there was no zeal in him now. "And you. Do you know what's going on with Cas? Do you have details? It's scaring me, man, with his brain screwy from the time-jump and he's acting all shady. I just feel like you're…hiding something from me."

Eli felt strange, like someone was trying to wrench words from her lips. It was uncomfortable, but not insurmountable. She worked her jaw for a moment, then finally got the right words out. "No, Dean. I don't know anything. Sorry."

Dean blinked at her, nonplussed. "Oh. I... I guess I was wrong. It's just been a really, really bad day."

Sam put his hand on Dean's arm. "Hey. It's okay. I got your back, all right? I always have."

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said, sounding slightly relieved. He glanced at her. "Sorry, Eli. I guess I'm a bit touchy lately."

"It's fine, Dean," she said, biting her lip. "Don't worry about it."

Sam looked at her, his gaze blank. She stared straight back.

As she expected, he was there when she unlocked her room that night. Eli sighed and shut the door, latching it with more force than necessary.

"We might have a problem."