Decidedly unsatisfied with his day, Sam tried to find a position that was even slightly comfortable to sleep in. He could hear Bobby pacing around downstairs, impatient for Mr. Nude to wake up. Sam was impatient too. He fluffed up his pillow and turned over again.
"Seriously, dude," Dean's irritable voice came from underneath a pillow, "the bed should be comfy enough by now. Go to sleep or get out."
"Sorry, Dean." His older brother was always cranky when it came to stuff like this. Sam waited a minute before asking a question that had been bothering him since he'd overheard Bobby and Dean's conversation about Dad. "Dean, where would we live if Dad didn't come back?"
Dean's hand flicked the light so fast that it seemed to turn itself on, "Dad's fine... Jesus, Sam. Don't you have any faith in the guy?"
"He was supposed to call, though," Sam said quietly. Dean looked about ready to sock him in the jaw. Bringing up Dad was stupid.
"He's always supposed to call and be never does and Dad is always fine, Sammy. Always," Dean turned his back on his younger brother and flicked the switch back off, "Goodnight."
Sam finally found a comfortable spot in his bed when something else occurred to him. Dean wasn't going to like this either. "Do you think we'd stay with Uncle Bobby?"
"Shut up, Sam."
"Because Dad always had trouble with Greek monsters. Remember that hydra?"
"He's only ever fought the hydra and a siren. Maybe gorgons are cake for him," Sam sighed. Dean was just trying to get him to shut up.
"Gorgons aren't cake, Dean."
"What? Now you're an expert?"
"Dad could be a statue right now for all we know — like actual stone —"
"I am so close to turning you into meat pie, Sam."
"But if Dad didn't come back would we get to stay in one place?" Sam immediately regretted letting that slip. It was selfish. Dean was quiet, which was not a good sign.
"Are you hoping Dad doesn't come back?"
"Dean, I—"
"God. You slimy little freak."
"I just wanted to know—"
"Know what? Whether you can live out your dorky little dream life without Dad to tell you where we go and when and how to fight the monsters?" Dean laughed harshly, "Well, news flash, Sammy. The monsters aren't going anywhere, so neither are you until they're all dead, we're all dead, or we find the dirty SOB who ganked Mom. Got it?"
"Yes."
"Great. Now shut up and go to sleep."
Even with his brother ordering him to go to bed, Sam couldn't stop wondering – not just about Dad, but about the naked man downstairs, and Cedric the seal trainer. Why would the seals eat their trainer? That was pretty freakish... maybe even monster crap. But Sam wondered if maybe he was just looking for something to distract him from what was becoming more and more clear— he was going to have to end it.
That afternoon, he thought he'd done a pretty good job of covering up the nature of his friend's exit.
While Dean and Bobby had been researching in the kitchen and poking and prodding the naked guy, Erika had been changing.
Sam had been reading a medieval book on "The Unholy Beastes" when she had called him over. He thought maybe she had found something about the seals. He could not have been more wrong.
"Can I tell you something?" Erika's big brown eyes were scared.
"Sure, yeah..." he was a little nervous.
Roughly, Erika unbuttoned her shirt, revealing an undershirt that had been cleaned of most of the blood and guts. She then lifted it up to show Sam her left side. "It healed," Erika's voice quavered as his fingers traced the wound, which was scarred over by fur, "but I— this grew in after— Sam... I don't know what to do. Your brother is right about me. I'm infected."
Sam didn't know what to say.
"Look. I told you because—"
"Erika—" he didn't like where this was going.
She sighed, "I want you to kill me."
Neither of them could look at each other. "Leave," Sam told her quietly.
Erika nodded and picked up her shirt. "Because you're scared or because you want to do it now?"
"I'm not scared," Sam said. He was lying again.
Erika stopped in the doorway, "it was nice knowing you," she told him.
Then she was gone.
Sam rolled over. Dean threw a pillow on top of him.
"Sleep, bitch."
But he couldn't, so he left the room and climbed out a window onto the roof, and sat there, staring at the stars, wondering if maybe tomorrow he would have to pull the trigger.