I appreciate all the attention and feedback this story has gotten since I first put it up! I really appreciate the reviews I've been getting, especially from Miss Tie and WhiteEvil that I just read earlier. They were the reason I tried to push out a new update today when I really wasn't feeling up to it. Yesterday early in the morning when I was heading home I had gotten into an accident (because deer apparently jump into oncoming traffic). Obviously I'm okay, but I'm dealing with all of that right now which isn't fun and is really stressful. Anyway, I'll try to update again soon, but if not, that's why.

Sheathing the dagger back in the holster under my jeans, I noticed the atmosphere in the room was reaching normalcy again. Sam kept staring at me from across the table when he thought I wasn't looking, but he had finally turned his attention to the sandwich in front of him and had begun to eat. Dean was inhaling his food back on the other end of the table and finished it well before the rest of us. I watched as he stood up and made his way across the main room to what we had begun calling the archives. It was an interesting room filled with shelves and shelves of boxes and books and journals. The first time I had stepped into the room I had thought of Bobby and what he might have said if he could have been here.

Our 'dinner' passed with the usual conversations, and no one else mentioned the dagger that I was all too aware of now pressed against my leg. It was hard not to notice the weight of it on my calf now that I knew it was something special. Even when I had continued to scan through the last pages of the journal I had been reading through before, my mind kept shifting back to what Sam had told us. I wondered if my grandfather had ever known what this blade was capable of doing or if he'd thought of it just like I always had.

I noticed Sam shifting in his chair out of the corner of my eye. I glanced up and his eyes met mine the moment I did. I meant to look away but he gave me a look like he was about to say something, though he stared at me a moment before he did.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked finally, his head motioning towards the hallway outside of the main room.

His question took me by surprise. An hour ago he had just been ignoring me, and now he wanted to talk to me alone?

"Yeah," I said hesitantly, unsure of what he was going to say.

He stood up, pausing after he did and placing a hand against his forehead as if the movement had been too quick. I frowned at him, watching as he regained his composure.

Overall it wasn't the most obvious thing to know he was sick if you were just looking at him— unless you knew what to look for. Lately he had been complaining a lot about headaches and Dean was constantly trying to buy different medications to help him whenever he ran out on food runs. Eventually, Sam had said some over-the-counter migraine pills worked, but I had always had the sinking feeling that he was lying.

Charlie caught my eye as I followed out after Sam and I quickly glanced away, fighting any color rising to my cheeks as I remembered the kiss all too clearly from a few days prior. I forcefully reminded myself that he just wanted to talk, nothing more.

Sam walked a little ways down from the room we had just come from; probably hoping no one would overhear our conversation. He leaned up against the wall when he finally stopped and I positioned myself on the wall across from him. I couldn't help but realize that this hallway wasn't a very big one.

"You aren't still planning on keeping your deal with Crowley now, right?" he asked in a rush.

Shocked at his sudden jump into the matter, I gaped at him for a moment. Recovering, I answered with a simple, "Yes".

"Why? We know what his plan is now, we can do this on our own," Sam reasoned.

"If we do it on our own he isn't going to help us," I reminded him.

Sam shook his head, a few strands of his hair falling into his face. He pushed them back and gave me a firm look. "You can't seriously think that trusting him is a wise decision."

I felt anger flare up in my gut but I closed my eyes for a second to fight it down. "If he has a way to help you," I told him, forcing to keep calm, "then I'm doing it. I've already went over this with Dean."

"You're both being ridiculous," Sam stated.

My eyes narrowed at him as I remembered something Charlie had told me and something Sam had said a few days ago. Putting the two together gave me a clearer picture of what was really going on.

"You're the one being ridiculous," I said with a newfound realization.

"What are you talking about?" he asked dismissively. "I'm the one being reasonable here; I'm being logical."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "You said it yourself the other day, you've come to terms with the fact that you're going to die. You plan on finishing the trials before your sickness can finish you."

He stared at me, his mouth slightly opening and closing as if he had something to say but didn't know what.

"I'm right," I continued on. "You think there isn't a way to save you, you're just humoring your brother." When he still stood there silently I added on, "You've been planning this the whole time."

Just like that, his face betrayed him. His eyes dropped to his shoes and he looked guilty as ever.

"You're right," he said, his voice barely audible.

"But why?"

"Because there isn't a way to cure me, all the angels said it themselves. There's something in me and if they don't even know what it is, how is there any hope that we're going to find a cure here, digging through these old journals, or anywhere else?" Sam said in a rush, a pained look on his face. "I didn't finish the trials because I couldn't, not with the things Dean was saying, not with him standing right there about to watch me die. But the more time that passes the more I realize there isn't another option."

I could feel tears stinging behind my eyes and I fought them back.

"I don't want to die," he admitted in a softer tone, his eyes meeting mine. "I just don't see what other choice I have."

"Then let me do this," I pleaded. "Let me kill Abaddon. Let's see what information Crowley gives us and if it can help. But Sam," I said, nearly begging now, "don't give up already."

I felt a tear sneak out of my eye and begin falling down my face. I reached to wipe it away but Sam's hand was already at my face, his thumb catching the tear. His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary, something the both of us seemed to notice, before he finally pulled it back. A slight smile was on his face now.

"You know," he said, his tone soft and teasing, "You remind me a lot of my brother sometimes. You're both really stubborn."

I let out a very unladylike snort of laughter at what he said, his smile only growing more.

"I have a hard time saying no to him," Sam continued on, his voice still teasing. "Apparently I have a hard time saying no to you, too."

Our eyes held each others' for a time while both of us just smiled at the other. Something was going on in that moment, that much I was aware of. Slowly I saw him reach out his hand to grab mine.

"What was that, the other night?" I asked him before I could stop myself.

"In the pool?" Sam asked.

I nodded and felt a little breathless as he pushed off the wall and took a step closer to me, his eyes still locked onto mine.

"There's just something about you that I'm drawn to," he admitted.

"Maybe Charlie has a point," I said trying to be funny.

Sam rolled his eyes, a huge grin now plastered on his face. "She told you didn't she?"

Slapping a hand to my forehead, I realized Sam had no clue that I had been told about Charlie's theory about Chuck's manuscripts.

"Yeah, she did," I admitted, peaking out behind the hand on my forehead at him. "Oops?"

Sam laughed and shook his head. "I figured it would come out eventually with all the time you two were stuck together."

"If it makes you feel better," I told him as he grabbed both of my hands now, "I didn't believe her at all either."

"Maybe there's a bit more to Chuck's predictions than we thought," Sam confessed. "I'm not going to admit that to her though if you tell her I said that."

A serious look crossed his face a moment later and I felt him tighten his hold on my hands.

"What?" I asked him curiously.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to be getting this close to me, everything considered?" Sam asked seriously.

"Sam," I said gravely, "None of us are going to let you die. We're going to find a cure for you. After everything Bobby has told me you two have gone through, there's no way we can't find a way out of this." I squeezed his hands reassuringly. "There's nothing the Winchesters can't do."

He shot me a half-smile and pulled me to him into a tight embrace. I buried my face into his chest, taking in his scent and feeling the strong muscles beneath his shirt. I felt safe in his arms, something I hadn't ever let myself feel before.

"We should probably get back in there," Sam whispered, his lips brushing my ear and causing a shiver to run up my spine.

"Yeah," I agreed after a moment.

Reluctantly we pulled away from each other and I followed Sam back down the hallway to the main room where everyone was situated around the giant table. Everyone was buried in some sort of a book when we entered the room; Dean had his feet propped back up on the table again.

I made my way back to where I had been sitting before as I felt everyone's eyes suddenly on us. I flipped open to the page I had just been on, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Sam sit a few chairs closer to me. I glanced up and he shot me a grin before turning back to the books scattered in front of him now.

Charlie raised her eyebrows at me and her eyes began darting between the two of us like she was watching a tennis match. Feeling a blush rise to my cheeks, I quickly snapped my attention to the book in front of me, trying to ignore Sam shooting me glances across the table every few minutes.