S14 E5 "Nightmare Logic" Weave
(I didn't write the ep; don't sue me-believe me, you won't get much.)

I only own the fill-in-the-blanks parts and my characters. Oh, and I might have named some unnamed people from the episodes, because it's easier that way. ;)

Castiel landed with Rachel in the maps room. The early morning bunker traffic stopped at their arrival. A few people looked as they passed, their brows arched. It was no secret since Mary revealed that Rachel had taken grace again that the majority of people were afraid-especially after seeing the news reports from Missouri.

Bobby stopped packing bullets at the table and lifted his chin, watching Castiel with a careful eye as the angel turned toward the hall. Mary looked up, then to Castiel, her lips parting. "Is she okay?" she asked, standing from her seat.

"Asleep," Castiel replied, looking between the two. "Her soul attempted to re-enter."

"And you had to put her to sleep?" Bobby asked, brow arched. "Why?"

Castiel didn't miss the contempt lingering in his voice. "It's a painful process."

"So let me guess, she hurt Sam."

"Sam ... decided it was best for her at the moment."

Bobby scoffed. "Or best for everyone else," he concluded, partially under his breath. "Because she's trouble."

"Bobby," Mary warned, temporarily silencing him. She watched as Castiel silently headed for the bedrooms, sighing deeply. "She didn't mean to hurt him, I'm sure," she said to Bobby, knowing the hunter was thinking about the news broadcast they all saw on repeat.

"She shot your son, Mary," Bobby reminded her. "She killed a man by throwing him into a tree!"

"She was scared."

"Soul or no soul, that girl's head hasn't been right since she took the grace in Philadelphia," Bobby argued back in a hushed tone. "Look," he said, cutting Mary off before she could object, "if I'm the only one who's gonna say it, then I will. I know Sam cares for her, but taking away her juice was supposed to make her safe. Ain't nothing safe about how she shot him, and there definitely ain't nothing safe about her having juice again. Not when she's already killed people and hurting her own fiancé."

"It was an accident," Mary insisted, receiving a scowl from Bobby.

"Taking a man's life? You can't write that off as an 'oops,' Mary."

"And you never made a mistake?"

"Not one that involved getting a cop killed!"

"She's likely already beating herself up for it, so be gentle." Mary lifted her hand as Bobby went to speak. "Her world has literally been stolen from her, and replaced with one she doesn't know, and powers she hasn't ever honed. Give her time."

"Time," Bobby muttered.

"She's family," Mary reminded him stiffly.

Shaking his head, Bobby sighed, letting it die for the time being. "Well, while I'm giving her 'time,' want to come help me rack supplies? These youngins aren't as skilled at organization as they are at texting."

Mary drew in a deep breath, managing a soft smile after she exhaled. "Sure."

Bobby let her go down the steps first, glancing over his shoulder toward where Castiel disappeared to. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. Sam was making a huge mistake writing off what she did. Despite his position as the leader, Bobby didn't any longer trust Sam's judgment. And they didn't have "time," like Mary wanted. He would have to be on the lookout with Rachel around. Time and trust were the last things he had for her.

Sam sighed as he entered the bunker. It felt good to stretch his legs after the six hour ride back. He made his way down the stairs, impressed how no one seemed to miss a beat as they greeted him while working. "Chief," a hunter named Tom said, pausing as Sam crossed to him.

Sam gave him a nod, becoming concerned at Tom's solemn expression. "What is it?"

"Uptick in demon activity since yesterday," Tom reported. "Seem to be heading southwest toward us."

"Following us," Sam sighed, rubbing his brows. "Alright, where are we at with teams?"

"Rick took a group to Oklahoma as soon as he got back. Tracking a possible group of rawheads."

"In the storm?!"

"He insisted. They're good, though. They just checked in about twenty minutes ago. And his wife is with Patti and Steve."

Sam sighed. "Alright. Who does that leave us with?"

"Me, Bobby, Julie, and Chris. Plus you, your mom, Dean, and Castiel."

"He took Jack?"

Tom nodded. "Jack insisted, since Maggie was going."

Before he could reply, Sam caught sight of Robbie as he teleported in. "Dad!" the boy squealed as he ran to him.

Sam took Robbie into his arms, lifting him up and pressing him close with a shuddered sigh. His tears were barely at bay as he kissed the top of his son's head. "I missed you so much," he whispered, unwilling to let the boy go.

"I missed you too, Dad," Robbie replied, though his voice was muffled into Sam's shirt.

Flicking his eyes up toward the motion he caught across from him, Sam saw Dean standing in the archway. He smiled, trying to keep the tears back. "Hey," he said, laughing a bit.

Dean smiled. "Hey." He crossed the distance, wrapping his brother in a hug, giving him a pat on the back.

Sam shook his head, unable to formulate a whole thought through his emotions. "Dean, I … What you did—"

"She's family, Sammy," Dean assured his brother softly. "I'd do it all over again for her."

"Hey, I'm getting squished in here!" Robbie said with a laugh.

Ruffling his nephew's hair, Dean released Sam from their embrace, watching with a smile as Sam gave the boy another kiss on the head. "Your kid is badass," he smirked.

"Had you fooled, didn't I, Uncle Dean?" Robbie smirked back as he looked at his uncle.

"Sure did, buddy."

"Do I want to know what you're talking about?" Sam asked, brow arched.

"I fought a bunch of Guardians!" Robbie exclaimed, eyes wide. His excitement was nearly tangible. "And I ate some beushim berries."

"Beushim berries?" Sam looked to Dean. "He had beushim berries?!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean said, hands up. "He didn't clear it with me."

"It's okay, Dad," Robbie urged. "I'm fine. I pooped them out. And I only grew like a year, so we're good!"

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "And for that, I'm glad. Still, I don't want to know the scary parts of your trip with Uncle Dean just yet."

Dean saw the look in his brother's eyes. "How's Rach?" he asked gently.

Shaking his head, he looked down, his hands tightening around Robbie. "It's a mess," he admitted.

"Does Mom have her soul back?" Robbie asked.

Sam wet his lips, delaying a reply. "No. Not yet."

"But she will, right?"

"That's the plan."

Tom cleared his throat with gentle suggestiveness; Sam looked back to him, immediately apologetic. He forgot he was even there, or that he was talking to him. "Sorry," Sam said, drawing in a breath as he set Robbie down and straightened. "Alright, so … uh … how many does that leave us with for the demons?"

"Eight of us," Tom replied.

"And me," Ketch added, approaching from the library, much to Sam's disgust.

"Thought you had a plane to catch," Sam said, trying to hold back his hatred for him, if even for one moment.

"I do," Ketch replied. "But not for another week from now at least. The tornado your son whipped up did quite a number to the area airports."

"I didn't mean to," Robbie argued back, narrowing his eyes at Ketch a bit. He looked like the spitting image of his father.

"Lovely," Ketch muttered to himself. "There are two Sams now."

Sam resisted grumbling at the revelation of Ketch's prolonged stay. Instead, he looked back to Tom. "Keep an eye on their movement. And let's get a couple people on tightening up the wardings."

"You got it," Tom nodded, slipping away toward the lower supply level with the other hunters.

"Can I go help?" Robbie asked; he looked up at Sam eagerly as Tom waited for a reply.

Sam nodded after a moment. "Just be careful."

Robbie grinned. "I will! Thanks, Dad!" He dashed toward Tom, who walked with him to the lower level.

"Want me to go keep an eye on him?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "He'll be alright."

"Well, look at you," Dean smirked. "Letting the birds out of the cage."

"Trying," Sam replied, barely keeping back his eye roll at Dean's teasing.

Dean stretched with a yawn. "Yeah, well I'm gonna go try to nap. I'm exhausted from that other plane of existence crap. Apparently that's normal, being human and all. And Cas said I might not poop right for about a week."

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, didn't need to know that." He sighed with a laugh as he watched Dean leave. He felt Ketch looking at him; he turned, confirming it. "What?" he asked gruffly.

"I was merely seeing if you needed my help," Ketch said, arching a brow. "You alright?"

Shutting his eyes, Sam sighed. Despite how he loathed Ketch, he couldn't afford to be blinded. Not when demons were near. "Yeah," he replied with a sniff, looking away. "Sorry. Didn't really sleep the last couple days."

Ketch nodded. "I shouldn't think so. An awful lot happened."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Sure did."

"I take it Rachel's here to stay this time?"

"That's the hope."

With hesitation, Ketch stepped closer. "You know, just as there are ways to brainwash someone, there are potential avenues for jump starting core memories."

Sam looked back to him. "Her soul's been replaced," he reminded. "They're gone."

"Not entirely. It's a muddled gray area at best, Sam. Sure, one's social or emotional identity is linked to the soul, but the brain is quite a powerful catalog of physical experiences. Perhaps with a bit of coercion, the information pathways could be restored."

"And by coercion, you mean what, exactly?"

"Well, there are a number of serums that could assist in opening those channels. And, of course, there is always shock therapy."

Sam scoffed. "You want to electrocute her?"

"It's merely a suggestion," Ketch reminded him. "The Men Of Letters did devise ways for finding truths, which could be utilized to find her own truths."

"Yeah," Sam said stiffly, "but I'm not shocking my fiancee's brain."

Ketch nodded. "Of course. If you'll excuse me, I'll go assist packing more bullets."

Immediately, Sam felt like a dick. Despite his hatred for Ketch, at that moment, he seemed genuine. "Ketch," he called out, gaining Ketch's attention. "Uh, thanks. For the suggestions."

Ketch gave him another nod, then disappeared into the same stairwell that led to the lower work quarters. Sam ran a hand through his hair, looking around. Where was Rachel? With the others?

As if she read his thoughts, Mary sighed as she came up the stairs. "She hasn't left her room, that I know of," she reported as she approached Sam, seeing his internal worry on his face. "Castiel said she woke not too long after he got her here. I know she hasn't eaten."

Sam's brow wrinkled. "Is she sick?"

Mary drew in a hesitant breath. "More like … feeling awkward, I'd imagine."

Sam shut his eyes. "They're afraid of her again, aren't they?"

"You can't blame them for their hesitation," Mary said. "She did shoot you. Not to mention Missouri—"

"She was tricked, and scared," Sam snapped. "And Missouri was a raw deal. She didn't mean what happened. She's not a murderer."

"It's a lot to ask of people, Sam," Mary insisted. "They don't know her like you do."

"They know her just as well as anyone else," he argued back. "She's done nothing to make them like this to her."

"She nearly killed you. And she did kill another man!"

"That was-"

"I know," Mary interrupted, her voice firm. "But you can't possibly expect people to not have reservations. It's unfair to them." She stopped him before he could continue. "Just … Just give it time. She'll find her place."

"Did you?" Sam asked coolly. "Did you find your place when you first came back? Or did you go off on your own? Because that's what's going to happen here if they don't start treating her like a human being, and not some monster. She deserves far better than that. Especially from hunters." He shook his head, his energy building in his gestures as he grew more impassioned. "Mom, I can't risk her leaving. Because being who she is, the demons and angels will never stop hunting her. And she doesn't have the skills she once did." He scoffed. "And-And then, if she's gone, then Robbie and Dean risked their lives in vain, and then Robbie will lose her as his mother, and I'll-" He stopped, swallowing hard. It was all too much. Between the delicate balance of keeping Rachel at the bunker, and knowing Rachel and Robbie were soon to be highly sought targets in the center of an angelic imprint, plus not sleeping, Sam couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.

Taking a deep breath, Sam went to leave the room. Mary snagged his arm, making him pause. He kept his focus on the floor. "You need to rest," she urged softly. "We will figure this out. I promise you."

Sam gave her a half-hearted nod, mostly so she'd let go. When she did, he continued out of the room, heading for the bedrooms. He had to fix the damage everyone's fears had done.

When he came to his door, he knocked softly, leaning in to listen. It was silent. "Rachel?" he asked quietly. When she didn't answer, fear swirled within; he opened it and peered into the room. It was dark, the bedside light off. Dread built as he saw the flatness of the bed. She was small, but he would still see her if she was in there. Flicking on the lamp, he saw the bed was empty. "Shit," he growled, stalking out of the room. He went to the showers, finding them vacant, and all the other unoccupied bedrooms empty.

Panicked, Sam burst into the library, finding the hunter Julie with another named Chris. "Have you seen Rachel?" he asked, a rough edge to his voice.

"Uh, not lately. She asked where the archives were earlier, though," Julie replied softly, clearly uncomfortable at the mention of Rachel.

Sam barely got out a "thanks" before he tore off downstairs two levels for the archives. The lights were on leading up to it, which comforted him. "Rachel?" he called out.

"In here," she called back, though she seemed distracted.

Sam opened up the archives, relieved when he saw Rachel surrounded by stacks of books. She sat solemnly at a table, one opened in front of her. "What are you doing down here?" Sam asked as he approached. It was far cooler in the room, the heater not running.

Rachel looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Their passionate kiss and his loving touch immediately played through her mind's eye. Sam said she was his everything, and for that moment in the cabin, she wanted to believe it was possible. Now, she knew better. Someone like her would never be meant for that kind of happiness. "Just, uh, reading about …" She blew out a breath as he stopped next to her. "Reading about nephilims," she admitted.

Sam squatted down next to her; he could see the way her eyes were red that she had been crying. "Reading what, exactly, about nephilims?" he asked gently. He knew what those books contained frontwards and backwards. They were his primary reading material when he first found out that Rachel was a nephilim while she was pregnant with Robbie.

"Stuff," she replied noncommittally.

Reaching up, Sam closed the book in front of her. "I think you've read enough 'stuff,'" he said, aching at her sadness.

Pressing her lips together, Rachel forced back her tears. Sam's presence brought both relief and ache. After what she read, she had absolutely no doubt in her mind that he was far too kind of a person, and that the others who talked about her behind her back were more than justified. And she also knew that any relationship involving intimacy with Sam was a sure-fire way to risk his life. She was a ticking time bomb, and she cared too much about him to let him continue to fool himself. "I don't belong here, Sam," Rachel whispered sadly, avoiding his eyes. "I'm … These texts … If I'm what you say I am—"

"Rachel," Sam interrupted, taking her hands, "listen to me: These books are one viewpoint. An outdated viewpoint."

"They're a century's worth of documentation," she argued, pulling away from his grip. "You can't tell me that's invalid just because I exist."

"It's not. But what I'm saying is, it doesn't apply to you."

Rachel shook her head. "It does. The sooner you accept that, the better."

Sam looked her over, watching how she set her jaw. "I won't accept it," he replied. "Because you're not what they wrote about."

"You're blind!" Rachel shouted, standing and pacing away from him and the desk. Sam rose to his feet as he watched. "I am what they wrote about." She snagged a book from the stack, finding a passage. "Doctor Clyde Harrison said nephilims are, 'Peculiarly unstable at first, rather like an infant who cries, but with frivolously fatal complications. As it grows, so does its hunger for destruction. Fueled by chaos and selfish whims, the mid stage nephilim consumes souls in vast quantities until a fully developed, horrifyingly accurate and formidable marksman is shaped, mankind their helpless target. Lest you desire senseless, immoral death to the human population, extermination by any means necessary is undoubtedly the only acceptable response to the abominations' existence.'"

"That guy was from 1902," Sam argued.

"Well, he isn't wrong!"

"Rachel—"

"No, Sam," Rachel interrupted, slamming the book shut. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to how I'm 'different.' Not when I've killed people with a flick of my hand." She swallowed hard. "I'm not her anymore. I'm not the girl you knew. And apparently I haven't been for a long time. Maybe … Maybe we were once able to be something, but that's not the case now."

He felt coolness line his stomach, dread churning it. "What do you mean?"

"Pre-grace, maybe I was the woman you cared for. But not post grace."

"You're the same woman," Sam insisted. "The same exact one."

"You're lying."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because they told me!" Rachel spat. "I can't be that woman. Not after what they said."

Sam stiffened. "After what who said?"

Rachel searched his eyes. "As soon as I woke up, all of the other hunters avoided me. Especially Bobby. Even your mother a bit. I could tell she was trying not to seem like it, but I felt it. They asked me what happened back there. In Missouri. After I explained it, I saw the sideways looks and whispers. I'm not an idiot. I know harbored resentment when I see it. Hell, my life is practically founded on it. So ... I decided to ask about my past."

Sam's lips parted. Her inquiring about her past was a terrible move without him there to buffer it. "Rachel—"

"They said I slaughtered people," Rachel quivered, eyeing him. "Lots of people."

"Demons," Sam corrected, stepping closer. "Demons who were bent on killing Robbie."

"Still people," she said, pained. "And they said I almost killed Bobby." Sam didn't know about that. He went to speak but was cut off. "They all said the same thing, though—that without my grace, I'd be a better person now." Her eyes welled with tears. "Guess they heard about me getting that back too." She exhaled a shudder. "So, then I thought maybe I'd be able to find a way to change myself if I read enough." Hugging herself, Rachel grit her teeth, staring at the floor. "Except, there is no changing me. I'm a freak, just like August said. A dangerous freak. A monster."

Sam moved to her, taking hold of her biceps as he examined her eyes. "Look at me," he urged. He tipped her chin up when she refused. "Look at me," he whispered. The pain in her eyes made his heart break. "First of all, nothing August has ever said about you is true. Nothing." He stroked her chin as he held her face up. "You are an amazing woman, Rachel," he said, relishing the feel of her skin. "These books … they don't define you. Your past doesn't define you. You're not a monster. You've never been one, nor will you ever be one. Ever."

Rachel shrugged out of his grip. "You're wrong, Sam," she argued back, her voice soft and broken. "I'm sorry you …" She drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry you lost your fiancée. I truly am. I can't imagine how … how awful that must have been. For you and for Robbie. But I … I can't be with you. You need to see how dangerous I am. You need to understand I'm not a human, like she was. I'm … I'm not safe. Not for you, or for anyone anymore."

Sam paused. She didn't think she was the fiancée he "lost." If she knew she was Robbie's mother, she would leave instantly to protect him. He had no doubt about that. At that moment, he had a choice, and not an easy one at that. He could either reveal the truth to her and imprison her until she hopefully regained her soul, or avoid the truth and find a way to keep her safe at the bunker, yet still free.

He bit back the tears, knowing keeping her at arm's length was what was best. Just until she was his again. "Then …" He cleared his throat, stepping closer. "Then just stay." Swallowing back his sadness, he continued, coming to stand in front of her. He reached out and raked his fingers through her hair. She momentarily closed her eyes against his tender touch. "Stay so … so we can help you. We can train you to be a hunter. We have a place for you here."

Rachel felt gutted at his evident pain. She, too, wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, resuming her place as his "everything" as he called her. But it was far too dangerous. He had a son, a beautiful boy to care for. She couldn't be close to him. Rachel took hold of his arm, gently lowering his hand from her cheek with sadness. "I … I can't stay. These people … they're good people, and they have a right to doubt me."

"No, they don't," Sam corrected firmly, taking her hands into his. Her skin was cool silk, her body chilled from the dank archives she must have spent several hours in. "Please. Stay," he begged in a whisper. He stepped closer to her through her silence. "The demons will be looking for you, and you're safe here. I just want to keep you safe. Please."

Rachel clenched her molars together, biting back her tears. He was right — she was being hunted, and without a space like the bunker, she was asking to hurt others from fear of being caught. She searched his eyes, hating the way she wanted to seek comfort from his arms and lips. Softly, she nodded, seeing his immediate relief.

Sam let go of her hands, hesitant as he withdrew. "Good," he whispered, wanting to draw her close and taste her. He lowered his hands to his sides, feeling on the edge of a breakdown. "Come on," he managed with a small smile, "let's leave these books where they belong."

Three Weeks Later

"And … details matter. I know homework sucks, but get it down. All of it."

Sam looked to the small group of hunters, eyes heavy as he tried to keep up morale and forward motion. He wasn't sleeping much, unable to fully rest. Once Sam learned that Rachel didn't realize she was Robbie's mother, he instructed the others to keep the secret. He also specifically told Jack and Robbie to keep their identities to themselves for the time being, scared it too might negatively affect Rachel's choice to stay.

The charades proved to be burdensome to his morale. Lying to Rachel felt horrible; he knew that he had been short with her and aloof because of the guilt. Scared to hurt him, Rachel distanced herself from him specifically, though he was sure that his coolness contributed to some of it. That didn't stop him from craving her, or from the ache that came without her by his side. She was there, but not—a haunting figment rather than a soothing reality. Even after three weeks straight of intensive training with Mary, he could tell she didn't trust herself any more than she did before. On top of it, her soul didn't reroute itself, leaving Sam to have nightmares about the angels who might've gotten their hands on it.

"The more we know, the better we are," he continued, his voice trailing off as he heard Dean's familiar gait behind them. He turned, a bit of embarrassment washing over him as his older brother watched intently, coffee cup in hand. "Uh …" He looked back at the hunters. "Everybody good? Any questions?" He nodded, barely giving them time to respond. "Okay, good. Let's get to work."

"You kids have fun out there," Dean smirked as the others left.

"Don't even say it," Sam mumbled, taking up his coffee and walking away toward the kitchen.

"What?" Dean feigned innocence. "No, it's good. It's got a real 'camp counselor' vibe to it. Just need to get you a whistle." As they walked, Sam's phone repeated an annoying beeping sound. "What is that?" he asked.

"It's nothing …" Sam sighed, pulling out his phone. "It's just hunter check-ins."

"Hunter check-ins?" Dean repeated. "That's adorable."

The two made their way into the kitchen, Sam sighing as he hovered in front of the coffee maker, refilling his cup. "You've gotten any rest lately?" Dean asked as he walked to the table, watching him. "Like, at all?" Sam didn't respond, sighing as he sat down across from him. "Look, I know things are crazy right now. I know Rachel—"

"Don't," Sam said, swallowing hard.

"Dude. You need to tell her the truth."

"I know. I know I do, but I can't. If she knew she was Robbie's mother, she'd run faster than I'd ever be able to find her. There's no way she would feel he was safe with her around."

Dean held Sam's narrowed look. "I get it. I do. Things are … weird right now. Hell, I just went toe-to-toe with my own personal horror movie icon, but we all need our beauty sleep. And you need that woman. You think she's going to appreciate being lied to? Besides, maybe if she knew who Jack and Robbie really were-"

"No," Sam snapped, eyeing Dean.

"You're only pushing her away like this," Dean continued. "If you want her to stay, make her feel like she can trust you. Start by telling the truth."

"She'll know the truth when her soul manages to find its way back here."

"Sam—"

"Dean," Sam said, impatience in his voice, "I've got sixteen hunters on cases right now. That's not counting Jack and Cas in Sarasota, or Mom and Bobby working that rugaru in Texas. And that's on top of worrying where Rachel's soul is. It sucks having her on the outside, but I've got a full load right now."

"Okay," Dean said, sitting. "You know that these people survived a war, right?"

"Yeah, but a war isn't hunting," Sam insisted. "These people need lore and weapons and tips and backup …" He met his brother's eyes. Dean was clearly not convinced. "Look, don't worry about me, alright? I'm … I'm good."

Sam's phone chirping distracted him, his stomach dropping when he flipped to the app to investigate Maggie's missing check-in. "What is it?" he heard Dean ask.

"Uh, one of the hunters missed check-in," Sam murmured.

"Who?"

"... Maggie," Sam answered, distressed as he looked at Dean. He looked back down at his phone, trying to remain positive, though he knew things were far from it.