Chapter 50

"Sam what do you use a silver bullet soaked in holy oil, sage, and myrrh for?"

Sam stared at the words in the Skype box for a few minutes uncertain how to answer Michele's question. Finally, he decided on answering a question with a question.

"Did you have a vision?"

"Yeah, it wasn't much ... just you saying to someone they needed holy oil, sage and myrrh, that they needed to make a tincture and coat a silver bullet and then use a spell - which I couldn't read incidentally, because your writing is really messy Sam. You said it would mimic the original etchings...?"

"Michele, I don't know why we'd need that ammunition, it doesn't do anything without the Colt." Sam stared at the words he'd just sent, instantly regretting them.

Then wondered why he would find himself discussing making ammunition for the Colt in the mid to near future.
It had been six years since they'd last seen Samuel Colts creation. Knowing the Colts whereabouts could be amazingly useful.

But... discussing that gun with Michele of all people, felt completely wrong, like he'd accidentally handed a toddler a venomous snake.

"The colt? Like only 5 things in all of creation it can't kill, the colt?"

"Shit" Sam swore with a groan yanking his hand back through his hair then shook his head feeling irritated with himself for the slip.

"Michele thanks for the heads up about what you saw, but..."

"Yeah I know, need to know. and i don't need to know."

Sam could almost hear an exasperated sigh behind the typed words, there was probably even a small pout on her face as well.
Funny how spending that time watching her face over Skype the previous day filled in his mental picture.

Sam knew she wanted to know more, had seen it, and had seen her attempts to restrain her curiosity whenever their rambling conversation the day before had brushed against anything to do with hunting, but he had seen that small pout every time he had turned the conversation firmly away to safer ground.

He remembered that frustration when Dad and Dean had done the same thing to him.
Their two-man battle to keep little Sammy as ignorant and innocent as possible while submerged in a sea of monsters.

It hadn't worked.

As it turned out he'd never been truly innocent, what with the demon blood pumping through him, in a way, he was the thing that had let the sea in.

Michele however, she was innocent, kind and just plain nice and he'd do what he could to keep her out of their sea of supernatural crap, it was what was best for her.

At least she accepted it better than he had as a kid, he'd been a pain in the ass always picking and digging. Knowing there was more and wanting in on the secrets. Chaffing against the restraints Dad had set, going out of his way to find out, until it was too late and then when Dad had given in and he'd been neck deep... he'd wanted out.

"So how are you, really?" He looked at her question and rubbed his palm across his face, he'd almost forgotten this part about women, growing up round guys, the first time he'd really experienced it was at Stanford with Becky Warren ... and Jess. They wanted to know what was happening inside and 'I'm good' wasn't going to cut it.

"Still processing, you know. Can't seem to work out how I feel. Mom keeps texting... and I want answers, but I can't bear to read what she's got to say and every time I look at Dean... I'm just in knots. He never had a childhood because of me... I just can't ... this whole thing it's my fault."

"Stop blaming yourself for all the things that were done to you, Sam.
Dean does not blame you for what happened in your childhood, he thinks you were the best and only thing he had to hold on to, he still does and he doesn't want you to feel like that. Never darling boy, please just try to see that. You know the sweetest and most frustrating thing about you boys is how selfless you are, you worry about him, he worries about you. Of course, you don't talk about it though, because you're Winchesters."

Sam felt his hackles rise a little, wanted to argue that Dean should blame him, then sighed out a breath because maybe she was right...

But ... the talk of selflessness makes him think of the thing that comes with Michele's visions and the worry that has moved into the back of his mind. Because ever since yesterday, he's been haunted by her too pale face, the realization that somehow it has sneaked up on him that she matters to him, to them... and she is fragile and breakable. Right now, with the feeling that maybe this time they have lost Mom for good still so raw, the idea that maybe Michele is on borrowed time won't leave him alone.

"Michele don't you think it's time we seriously talked about your visions, the blood loss."

"Sam, what's there to talk about?"

"Let me talk to Cas, the way you bleed with the visions... it's not exactly sustainable, is it? We need to find out some way to fix it."

"The transfusions deal with the blood loss Sam. It's fine, really."

Suddenly Sam found himself completely furious with her. Needed her to hear his voice, understand how serious he was. He punched the button for voice.

"It's not fine!
A healthy, fully grown man can die from a nosebleed in two hours, Michele. Come on!"

"I am fully grown Sammy, honestly, I'm just sorta bonsai." She tries to joke it off, just like Dean would, bringing out that part of him that needs to rip and tear and hurt, just like Dean does.

It's almost visceral how that feeling of losing something that matters flashes over into harsh words that come spilling out.

"How long will it take for you to bleed to death Hu? An hour? Half an hour? 20 minutes?!"
"You're worried about the theoretical danger of being abducted by angels, I'm worried about the very real danger of you bleeding out."
"You say you love your husband and kids, then don't fucking die on them!"

She makes a small hurt sound, "Sam... " she begins.

Yes, he knows it is underhanded he's worked out exactly how to wound her. But she needs to wake up and realize that this isn't a game.

"Sam... you make it sound like talking to Castiel will fix me, but it won't." Her voice is cringing and it drives him mad as she continues "Could he fix what Azazel did to you? No... And if I'm a prophet ... do you think there's some magic wand we can wave to de-prophet me?
I have to believe that I'm not gonna bleed to death, at least not until I've done what God put me here for."

"What God..." Sam finds himself spluttering in reply "Chuck left Michele, he didn't put you here for anything."

"You're wrong Sam, God hasn't left, I don't believe that... I... I can't believe that." Her voice is stronger "The God I know doesn't cut and run, He Loves us. He hasn't left us alone. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe 'Chuck' isn't all that God is, that God is more? That maybe you've never seen the big picture..."

"And you have?"

"I have faith Sam. 'Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.'" The way she says it he knows it's a quote.

"Well if you're so sure of there being a bigger picture, a plan, then maybe you should trust that the bigger picture involves me finding a way to fix you. If you believe in this bigger than Chuck God, that loves us, show me how a loving God could expect me to sit by and watch my friend bleed to death without at least trying."

"I'm not dying Sam, I'm not."

"You could though. And I'm not going to let you, not without a fight. Without at least trying. I'd rather have you under angelic lock-down than dead. Your husband and kids would too. You know I'm right."

The silence stretches between them.

"You know what Michele, I'm not asking for your permission anymore. I'm telling you how it's going to be."

Michele takes a shaky breath. "Sammy" she says in a small voice, barely more than a whisper "I don't ...I don't want to die, some days I'm so scared I'm going to... that my kids are going to grow up without a mother like... like you and Dean did." The confession is broken and painful "But what if the only way out of this is for me to die ... or for you both to? I don't, I just don't ... want either of us to know that Sam."

The confession drives the last vestiges of rage out of him. Because she's scared, she's scared they'll let her die... ? Or that they won't?

Sam swallows, wishing he could just do something real to make this better, hating the small stifled sounds that say she's trying not cry, and probably failing.

"Hey, hey, hey. That's not going to happen. No one's going to die okay? We'll figure it out, we always do... you uh ... you know that. Because you're our prophet. And uh…you've got that Pulitzer winning piece of literature to write." That dragged a watery snort of disbelief out of her. "Uh… come on Michele 'they all died' isn't your kind of ending, you write sandcastles and sea gulls. I believe … that we can fix this. You just need to trust us and let us do what we do best... we save the girl."

Her slightly shaky laugh surprises him "Wow! So, I get to be the girl of the week?" She asks drolly making him smile in relief, he hasn't pushed things too far, she seems to have stopped arguing. So maybe he's just won.

"By the way, my fic is so not literature. I have it on great authority that Supernatural fanfiction is not literature." There's a weary smile to her voice.

...

There's a ringing sound.

"Oh, it's my hubby Sam, I better answer it or he'll dial 111 and I'll have an ambulance on the doorstep. Luv ya."

...

"Hello, is it me you're looking for?" Michele's voice sings the words.

"No, damn it, I was trying to call my mistress." a guy's voice answers.

"Oh well if that's the case I'll go talk with Sammy again." Michele says like the conversation is a game she's enjoying and Sam realises she doesn't know that Skype is still working. 'So that's her husband' Sam thinks, feeling vaguely voyeuristic but she appears to be talking about him. So, he keeps his mouth shut and listens curious. After all she spies on him and Dean all the time.

"So how are the transvestite PI and his vegetable hating brother today?"

"Sammy's mostly okay, things with their birth Mum are ...complicated, when someone comes back into their children's lives after more than 30 years, things are going to be rough. She doesn't understand them and she's made some crappy decisions. But they'll get through it... they're really decent guys." Sam frowns at the laptop in silence because it's recognisably his life with all the supernatural washed out of it. "He's been giving me pep-talks about looking after myself."

"The guy isn't so bad, even if he is a felon." The husbands voice holds no heat for the felon comment as if it's a snark along the same lines as the transvestite private investigator crack. "How is everyone else? Your fic kids and the stroppy redhead?"

Sam blinks and frowns. He's always sort of thought Michele treated him and Dean like a dirty secret. But here she is talking to her husband about him like he's normal people. That him and Dean somehow have an actual place in her life, he's uncertain how to take that.

"Your spawn are fine, madam one and two are being helpful, Mr Autism lost his fidget cube at school but someone found it for him, because he's blessed. And Mr two and troublesome scammed a walk to the service station for a lollypop out of me. As I said my American boys are getting there… Cat and Peaches, as always, need to get more sleep, but they are young and not sleeping enough is pretty much a twenty something rite of passage. And my darling Cougar is trying to get me to read one of her racy fics on that other scary website. Again."

"And you said?"

"That I love her, but no thanks, my hubby's coming home tonight, so why would I want to read about something racy when I can do it?"

Her husband laughed dark and warm in the way all guys understand "That's my girl!"

Sam cut the Skype call.

Hmmm yeah ... umm... he should probably go look for the info on the Colt, he wasn't totally certain he even remembered the spell Bobby and Ruby had devised to replicate the original bullets properly. Apparently, he is going to need to write it down some time soon. Sam ran a hand through his hair and went to find it.