**Some of the dialogue and the plot are taken from the show.**
Chapter Twenty Five
"I'm going," I argued for what felt like the hundredth time. They'd finally figured out what the third trial entailed - to cure a demon which meant a series of spellwork and blood injections. And the particular plan they'd conjured up seemed more crazy than sensible. The urge to be there in case they needed my unreliable yet powerful magic was giving me the motivation to put up a pretty good fight. I wasn't even sure I could stay regardless of what they wanted me to do.
To "cure a demon", Sam and Dean were going to dig up Abaddon, the demon's body parts, sew them back together and then inject her with Sam's consecrated blood. Then, after she is "cured", Sam will say the spell for the last time, in turn closing the gates of hell for good. But what worried me most is what would happen to Sam after those gates were sealed shut. Would he go back to normal? I hoped so but I was fairly positive that he would only get worse and getting worse meant, he would probably die. If I wasn't there to at least attempt to save him with my magic, I'd spend a fairly long period of time grieving and beating myself up over not arguing to go.
Sam took a deep breath as he tugged on a new flannel shirt to go over his gray t-shirt. "No, Eva. It's too-"
"Dangerous?" Furiously, I declared, "That argument is old. Try something new because it's not working."
"How about you tell me everything that happened when you were caged up with Crowley? Because I know there's a lot that happened that you didn't tell me." Tossing his bag on the bed, he stepped closer to me. "Because if he gets you again, this time you might not be so lucky. Whatever happened that you won't talk about, he'll do again and I'm not...I won't lose you like I lost so many other people I care about - to a demon."
I softened my voice in regards to his concerns. Talking about the deets of what happened when I was Crowley's helpless prisoner was not on my to-do list. "I know you're worried." In response, he scoffed as he grabbed his bag and moved past me. "I'm worried too but I can't cower down here when you might be able to use me up there."
Sam turned on his heel, looking angrier than I'd ever seen him. "How can we use you up there if you don't even know what you're doing? Your powers...they're unreliable at best." His jaw ticked as he steeled himself to continue, "I'd be way more worried about you being safe and out of the way than doing my job. And that is the problem."
My mouth fell open and I sucked in a breath as he turned back around and headed back toward the main room. Stomping after him, my voice was loud and defensive. "Do you mean that or are you just saying that so I'll get mad and stay here?" Dean was leaning on the table and he perked up to watch us fight. "I need to go, Sam!"
"No, you don't!" Sam growled.
Determined, I stood my ground. "I'm going."
"We don't have to let you in the car. Then what…?"
"Sam, I can fly! I can find you no matter where you are, you silly idiot!" Dean snorted in the background. "If there's any trouble, I can just fly away. I'll watch my back plus I'll have you two to watch my back too."
His voice was still raised but there was distinct surrender laced into it. "And what if we're too busy with the third trial to watch your back? Then what?"
I gave him the most meaningful look I could, put my hands on his biceps, and said, "Then I'll be there to watch yours. I'm not helpless. As much as you'd like to think I am, I'm not."
"She has a point, Sammy. It would be good to have some wings with us, just in case, since Cass bailed on us," Dean pointed out, biting into a candy bar. Castiel had never returned from the store the previous day which worried me relentlessly. Dean shrugged it off, telling me that was typical of the angel and went about his business. But I couldn't stop the tickle of worry that crept over my spine with his absence.
The look Sam shot his brother was akin to an annoyed glare but then he started coughing until there was blood on his knuckles. Dean threw a handkerchief at him and headed up the stairs. "We roll out of here in five, lover's spat be damned."
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother as he disappeared out the door. Then he turned to me, his face scrunching up with some hidden emotion or thought. Then he looked me in the eyes, stating, "I don't...I don't think you're helpless. Not at all. I...I just need you to be safe. I've lost too much and the thought that we are so close to this… What if Crowley gets you and I don't realize it. What if he takes you to hell? And I don't know it? And I close the gates?" Pressing his lips together, he shook his head frantically. "There's just too much risk. Here is where you're safest...where I don't have to worry about you."
A little tired of this whole martyrdom he had going on when considering me, I questioned, "Yeah? I hate to throw this in your face but when are you going to be safe? What if I told you the same thing? You're never safe. And with these wings and these powers..neither am I." Before he could argue anymore, I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. "Please...please...I need to go with you because if you need me and I'm not there, I'll never forgive myself that I didn't fight harder. That I wasn't stronger." My last line of defense was helpless begging and rambling. If this didn't do it, I wasn't sure what would.
Sam huffed, unable to resist a girl who begs. "You do exactly what I say when I say it."
"I promise."
"And if I tell you to get out, you get out no matter what is happening to me."
"I'll try."
"Eva…" he warned.
"Okay, I promise." I had my fingers crossed behind my back.
"Go get your stuff," he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. I was pretty positive that he relented out of exhaustion and not because he trusted me to help.
Quickly, I ran and grabbed my bag that was sitting on the table just as Dean laid on the horn for an exceptionally long amount of time. "Okay. Let's go."
On the way to the warehouse, I sat in the back seat, quiet as a mouse, and just enjoyed the view of the outdoors passing me by. Now that I was out of the bunker, I could feel just how much the angel-wards in that place dulled my powers. As soon as I stepped out the door, I felt lighter and more alert; ready for what could be the fight of my life. But best of all, I felt reconnected with Sam. When I was in the bunker, I hadn't realized how much I missed feeling him through that sometimes annoying little tie to him. Most of the time, it made me a nervous wreck but there were often times that I could just close my eyes and it would feel as if he was right next to me. It was probably my favorite power, second only to blowing up bad guys. But flying was up there too.
When we pulled up to the warehouse, I thought Sam would tell me to stay in the car but he didn't. Instead, he pulled the back door open for me and stuck to my side the entire way into the place. As the boys worked to uncover the steel boxes that contained the different parts of the demon, I looked outside, looking out for anything that felt off. If they wouldn't let me dig up body parts, I was at least going to watch their backs - which is a thought that I never imagined myself ever thinking. But there we were and there I was - eventually admiring the straight stitches that the man I loved was finishing up as he attached her head to her neck. Apparently, every true crime documentary I'd ever watched had prepared me for this moment however it didn't keep the ickiness from settling in my stomach thanks to the smell and the way her black eyes looked when she popped them open. However, she did look pretty decent for a dead broad.
Both of them backed away when she rolled her neck, cracking it with a satisfied groan. Then her eyes looked normal...human as she looked at both of them. I moved a little closer in case I was needed, in case things didn't go as planned. My stomach was in knots, wondering if this was the beginning of the end for Sam and me.
"Morning sunshines," she said, happily.
"It worked," Dean announced, cocking his head in wonder as he watched her. Patting Sam on the chest, he said, "You owe me a beer."
As they told her what's what, I stepped closer, examining her and watching. The closer I got, the more I could feel it - this overpowering evil that emanated off over her in waves. I imagined it would feel ten times stronger if she didn't have that devil's bullet in her brain. It was so strong, I felt my own magic react to it, its instinctive defense to something being that close to me, Sam, and Dean. It gave me hope that I could help them in this fight and maybe...maybe help Sam if his body couldn't take the third trial.
"Well, my, my, my...aren't you a precious little creature." I didn't even realize she was talking to me until Sam moved his body in front of me, blocking her view. "I've always wanted to know what that heart of a Nephilim tastes like. I've heard chicken but I'm the type of girl who likes to decide things for myself." I moved around Sam to look her in the eyes, to show her I wasn't afraid of what she was saying which made her wink, followed by a cackle that sent chills down my spine.
"You ready to-" Dean started, looking at Sam but was interrupted by Sam's phone ringing.
Sam's eyebrows pulled together as he pulled it out of his pocket, looking at the screen. Aggressively, he pushed a button and put it to his ear. After a moment, his jaw ticked and he snarled, "Crowley…"
"Crowley?" Abaddon questioned. "The salesman?"
"Try King of Hell," Dean replied, narrowing his eyes.
Her face twisted and dare I say, she looked a little panicked. "Is this a joke?"
Both brothers seemed to take the same, frustrated breath. "Stay," Dean ordered Abaddon even though there was no way she could move with that bullet still lodged in her head. Sam waved me along, not wanting me to stay alone with the powerful demon.
"Hold on." Sam put the phone against his chest, blocking Crowley from being able to hear him, and whispered to me, "Don't say anything, okay? I don't want him to know you're here." I nodded obediently as he put the phone on speaker. "How'd you get this number?"
"First things first, what are you wearing?"
The sound of his voice brought up all kinds of bad and messy feelings. I wanted to rip him apart. I wanted to cower in a corner. I wanted him to just fall into some deep, dark hole and never come out which I supposed was exactly what Sam was trying to do with these trials.
"You lads been reading the papers? Say Denver Times from yesterday?" As Crowley droned on and on, Dean frantically pulled his phone out of his pocket and started pushing buttons in search of the story. "No? Well, you should... side-splitting. It'll bring back some nice memories for the both of you. That is if you're able to recall memories as many times as you guys have been knocked over the head."
Annoyed, Dean growled, "Are you just going to talk us to death? Or do you have a point?."
"What the hell - I'm sexting you an address. Check it out. Then, we'll talk. Cheerio."
"Wait what?" Sam said, quickly, "Crowley?"
"Okay, here it is, Vic's name is Tommy Collins…"
"Tommy Collins? We saved him from a Wendigo years ago," Sam stated.
As they started walking back toward the warehouse, I followed after them, trying to keep up with their feet and their words. "Crowley killed him?" I managed to ask from behind them.
Sam turned and nodded at me, frowning. "Most likely Crowley or someone on his orders."
Dean huffed, looking determinedly toward the door to the warehouse where Abaddon was waiting. "We'll have to pour one out for Tommy later. Right now, we got all that we need to lock the douche of hell up for good."
When we walked back into the large rundown building to deal with Abaddon, I was thinking about Crowley and just how clueless I'd been just a couple of years ago of how evil some parts of the world were. And how evil was done for the smallest, most insignificant reasons. Justine was tortured and killed simply for knowing me.
"No! No, no, no, no…! She's gone!"
"Oh, come on!" The alarm in Sam's tone made me jog to catch up, only to freeze when the empty chair came into view.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled, pulling his gun from the back of his pants.
"Where is she?" I started to wonder if tagging along had been a good idea. Because I wasn't used to this kind of thing, I felt a step behind the brothers at all times. And I asked stupid questions, apparently because obviously, they didn't know where she was. But I couldn't seem to keep the ridiculous questions from spewing out of my mouth. "How did she get free?"
Sam shrugged patiently at my stupid question, his eyes moving over the boxes where her hands had been left, unattached before we'd gone outside. "Her hands...they're gone."
I grimaced at the thought of her hands moving around like Thing from The Addams Family, probably digging the bullet out of her skull. Sweeping my eyes over the dark corners of the warehouse, I wondered if she was still hanging around, ready to pounce. The thought made my insides clench with fear. As I looked around, my eyes caught something shiny on the floor in front of Sam and pointed to it.
"Uh...Dean?" Sam picked up the bullet and held it up for his brother to see. "Her hands are gone too."
I made a face and shuddered at the image. "That's so gross."
Dean shook his head, closing his eyes in frustration. Sam's phone made a noise and he pulled it out of his pocket. "It's the text from Crowley. An address in Prosperity, Indiana."
"Prosperity?" Dean asked. "Did we work a case there?" His eyes went to the ceiling as if the answer was written up there and the lightbulb went off. "Yeah, yeah...the one with the witches and baked goods. So, what, he's going after somebody there now?"
"I don't know…" Sam looked a little lost, his thoughts torn on saving someone else and finishing the third trial. But, really, there was no choice when it came for them. Saving someone was always top priority. They really deserved some sort of reward for what they did especially since they did it expecting nothing in return. "We gotta check it out."
"You know it's a trap," Dean said, eyeing his brother.
"Of course it's a trap." Looking pointedly at Dean, he added, "But a trap means demons and we could use one right now."
Listening to them was like watching a tennis match with odd, abnormal rules. They seemed to talk in riddles and I had to listen carefully if I wanted to understand what was going on. What I got so far was that Abaddon's hands had moved on their own, released her, and she ran off while Crowley was calling and taunting them about some of their past saves that were recently killed. Most likely by him. But why?
"Do you-do you think Crowley is killing people because of me? Because I escaped?" I asked, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth because that thought was horrible. Someone being dead because I'd managed to escape my torture? That was not something that I could live with.
Sam looked down at me, his eyes telling me that was possible but he replied, "No, it probably has something to do with the hellhound and Bobby getting out of Hell. He's probably figured out what we're doing."
As we reached the Impala and I climbed in the back seat, I asked, "What do you think we're going to find in Indiana?" God, I hoped it was someone who was still alive. Someone who still had a chance to be saved. While I knew that this whole thing was most likely a trap for the brothers, I was sure that Crowley would not be expecting me.
"Probably someone we saved in trouble…" Sam replied, leaning his head back against the headrest.
"Or dead," Dean added with a grunt as he turned over his engine.
If I could pull up a google map picture of the house, maybe I'd be able to fly there - see what's up before the guys fell into some sort of trap. You know, so I wasn't completely useless. "I can, you know, try to fly ahead. and see if I can help before you guys-"
"No." Sam's reply was final and he offered no explanation which I probably didn't need because I'd heard it a thousand times. It was too dangerous. I couldn't wait for the day when nothing would be too dangerous for me. I just had to figure out how to get there. But at least I'd asked, right?
It took some time to get there, only making stops for jerky, coffee, and bathroom breaks. I dozed off somewhere in Illinois and woke up right as we were stopping at the address Crowley had given them. The house was the only one on the street without lights on which I took as a bad sign. Feeling pretty crappy about the situation, I started to get out, and Sam looked back at me. "No, stay in the car. If something…looks off, get out of here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little box that contained the key to the bunker. "Go back to the bunker and just wait."
Not wanting to argue but not hiding my frustration, I took the key from him. "For how long? Until I'm positive that you're dead or just pretty sure?"
"Eva…" Then he coughed a whole bunch and I thought maybe he was faking it so I'd stop trying to argue, but then I saw more blood on his hand. Then I felt so guilty that I'd thought maybe he was faking it that I not only agreed to fly off and leave him, I promised him that I would.
"Be careful!" I hissed through the rolled-down window as they crept up to the house, knives, and guns in each of their hands. Then I rolled my window up and sat, staring at that dark house for so long I nearly forgot to breathe. Even though the Impala was angel-proofed, I could feel my connection to Sam and I focused all my power on it so I'd know if something was wrong. And because of that, I knew before they even walked out that they'd found someone they'd saved, dead. The guilt and sorrow pulsing from Sam nearly took my breath away but as horrible as it sounded, I felt no fear which meant the body was all they'd found. A deep rush of breath rushed from my lungs as I watched Sam replace his gun into the back of his jeans and come closer to the car. After they'd climbed in and shut their doors, they sat for a moment in silence brewing in guilt and shame.
"I'm sorry." My voice was soft but it sounded so loud in the quiet of the car.
"Crowley burned her alive." And such a painful way to die - my hatred for Crowley and his demons burned brighter.
"Do-do you know why he's doing this?" My voice was hesitant as Dean started up the engine and peeled his tires on the asphalt.
Sam sighed, "He called us...when we were in there. We have less than an hour to get to a hotel in Indianapolis to save someone else."
"Oh my God…" Dean took a sharp turn and I barely missed knocking my head on the window beside me.
"It's about the trials…" Sam's eyes were looking out the window but his mind was still back in that house.
"And he wants the demon tablet and-" Dean growled but Sam put his hand on his brother's arm, stopping him with a shake to his head.
I narrowed my eyes. "And what?"
"Uh, nothing...he, uh, wants the tablet and for us to stop the trials." Dean squared his shoulders as he put his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel as we merged onto a highway. "But he's not gonna get either one."
"You guys aren't telling me everything," I accused, leaning forward over the seat. "It's something about me, isn't it?" Their silence was my answer. "You're not going to tell me? You're just going to keep me in the dark?"
Sam stumbled over his words. "Eva, I don't...it's not…" He coughed a little, grabbing his bottle of water and chugging it. "It doesn't matter what else he wants."
"But he wants me, doesn't he? That's partly why he's doing this?" My eyes filled with tears as I slouched back on the seat. I blinked and breathed through the tears, trying not to focus on the innocent dead people that were being used as a bargaining chip.
"It's not all you." Dean cleared his throat, his eyes going to Sam for a moment "Mostly, it's about the trials. He just kind of threw you in there when he realized you were with us in Illinois. Must have had someone watching us go into that house or something and they reported to him that you were waiting in the car."
Eyes full of concern, Sam looked over his shoulder. "It's not your fault so don't even think that, okay?"
I nodded and tried to smile in response but the regret and guilt were real. It took us twenty-five minutes to get to The Ivy Motel in Indianapolis and another five to park.
"Sammy, go to the room, and Wonder Woman can help me bring the bags," Dean told him but Sam hesitated, glancing in my direction. "She'll be fine, Romeo. Go."
Dean pushed bags and weapons and spray paint cans at me until my arms were full. "How are you holding up?"
I raised my eyebrows, offering a small shrug. "I'm not sure, actually. I'm terrified that someone else is going to die. I'm worried that I won't be able to help when it counts. But I'm determined to at least try and help."
"Welcome to my life," he mumbled, then cut his eyes to me as he shut the trunk. "Uh, Sam told me...he told me that he doesn't want you there," he confessed, hoisting the bag he was carrying over his shoulder. "That when he starts the trial, whenever that is, he wants me to grab you and get you somewhere safe."
As we started a half-jog toward the motel, I started getting a little angry. "Well, that's bullshit."
"Yeah, I think so too but-"
"But nothing," I spat.
"You can't blame him, Eva, for wanting to protect you," Dean shrugged, checking out our surroundings as we walked toward the room door. "It's what we do. Keep our family safe."
"I'm not his family," I argued.
"Yeah, you are. And if he lost you, I don't think he'd give two shits about closing up Hell anymore."
"So, what are you saying? That you're going to drag me away, kicking and screaming when the big moment comes?" I questioned. "Because I don't think he's going to live through this. But I might be able to-to do something."
Dean looked at me, long and hard. "Let's get this crap inside and worry about one thing at a time, okay? We have about twenty minutes."
When we walked in, Sam was standing in front of a woman who looked to be about my age. Dean greeted her and they engaged in small talk. And she seemed to remember them, based on her facial expression - a little freaked but slightly pleased to see them. As the guys painted symbols all over the walls, the girl and I put salt down everywhere we were instructed. I scrunched up my nose at something rotten I kept smelling - maybe it was ointment for some sort of infection. Or more likely the infection itself given how potent the odor was. Or perhaps, she'd eaten some bad Mexican. It wasn't up to me to judge but it smelled strong which made me wonder why no one, especially Dean, wasn't commenting on it.
The girl seemed nice enough even though Sam got this weird feeling every time he looked at her - a sort of nervous feeling that made it hard for me to swallow. Then he'd catch me glaring at him and he'd look away, get back on task as he focused on protection spells. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sam and her had been more than friends at one point in their lives. But this girl had done nothing to me and she seemed nice enough - despite her strange smell - so I figured I should introduce myself.
"Hi, I'm Eva," I smiled. "I'm sorry this is happening to you."
Her smile was strained, probably because of the abrupt, weird interruption of her evening. "I'm Sarah. And I have no idea what's happening so...thanks, I guess?"
"Well, you're in good hands with them," I told her.
"Oh, I know I am. They are good at what they do." When she looked over at them, her eyes lingered a little longer on Sam and a wave of jealousy flashed through me. "How did you get swept up into their craziness?"
"I, uh, well, that's a long story, actually." Shifting on my feet, I cleared my throat as Sam walked over, his palms rubbing against the back of his jeans. I'd never been a jealous person - maybe over fathers who were present in their kid's lives but not once in my life over a man - and I didn't know exactly what to do with the feeling. It had most likely been years since they'd seen each other but I had so many questions. Probably questions that were just a tad inappropriate at the moment so I told her, "Nice to meet you," and walked away.
Sam and Sarah sat on the bed, a little too close to each other in my opinion, while I leaned against the window frame by Dean. Cutting his eyes to me, he smirked, "Don't worry. It was pretty short-lived."
I moved a little closer to him so I could whisper, "What are you talking about?"
"Sam and Sarah...he wasn't in love with her or anything. He just saved her life and they spent a few days together." Dean shrugged. "Nothing special."
So I didn't have to hear one more word, some sort of self-preservation instinct made me abruptly whack him in the stomach with the back of my hand. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten that I was a little bit stronger than I used to be, so he bent over, groaning; his arm clutching his stomach.
"Sorry…" I made a whoopsie face, feeling bad that I'd hit him. Sam and Sarah were looking oddly at Dean so I announced,"He's fine. Just...indigestion."
Dean managed an okey-dokey sign with his fingers. The two ex-lovebirds went back to chatting, Sam doing a double-take. I supposed I could tune in if I wanted to - it wasn't like I wouldn't be able to hear them no matter how quietly they talked. But eavesdropping wouldn't help ease those jealous, icky feelings that settled in my stomach like a rock.
"Eight minutes," Dean announced, peeking at his watch.
I walked to the other window, the terrible odor I'd smelled earlier becoming stronger. "Dean…" I hissed. "Come here."
"What?" He looked a little annoyed but walked over to where I was standing, squinting into the darkness. "What is it?"
My nose scrunched up. "Do you smell that?"
He went from annoyed to looking at me like I was crazy in two seconds. "Smell what?"
His voice was rather loud so I peeked over at Sam and Sarah who seemed entranced in their conversation. Sarah laughed a little, putting her hand on Sam's arm. Unfortunately, I took a deep breath, forgetting about the smell, and then winced again. Just as Dean started to go back to his window, I grabbed his shirt sleeve, stopping him. I cringed, a little disgusted. "Did you...is that you?"
His face matched mine - disgusted but it was because I accused him of permeating a terrible odor. "What? What's it smell like?"
"Maybe...maybe a piece of that demon fell into your pocket or something. It smells rotten. Or like something trashy."
"Trashy? You think I…?" Dean's face changed into one of incredulity. "I don't stink." For proof, he shoved his nose in his own armpit and sniffed. "Okay, I don't stink too bad. And no demon parts fell into my pockets." Looking slightly offended, he pointed out the window. "Keep watching."
"Two minutes," he said, moving back to his window, scowling at me for a moment when he got back in place.
Trying to ignore the smell and the sound of Sam and Sarah catching up, I focused on any movement out the window. I was so focused that when the phone rang beside me, I yelped. Dean brushed by me, grabbed it and answered it on speaker. Crowley's voice made me feel incredibly angry and a tad bit fearful. Memories of him carving into me, burning my skin, and taunting me with threats made my entire body stiffen.
"Five…"
Everyone geared up, held up guns - except me, who was ammo-inept- and braced themselves. I looked out the window and there was nothing.
"Four...Trois...Zwei...Uno…"
Sarah made a gasping sound, her hands going to her throat and she collapsed. Sam crouched next to her, hand on her shoulder and eyes wide with concern. Dean circled the room with his gun, frustrated that he couldn't fight something that he couldn't see. It felt stupid but I froze, just waiting for orders from one of the brothers.
"She's dying and there's nothing you can do about it." The smile in Crowley's voice was evident as he mocked their panic.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled into the receiver.
"Son of a witch, actually. My mommy taught me a few tricks."
Sam lifted his head up. "It's a spell! Find the hex bag!"
As Sam and Dean started tearing the place apart, something was picking at my brain. The sound of Crowley droning on and on about how clever he was when he picked the method of his murders; he mocked their way of life, their job, and their afflictions - it made it hard to concentrate. But I felt something off about this room - something important...something that I'd seen or felt or…
"The smell!" They ignored me, probably figuring I was performing my own method of freaking out. "That smell, Dean!"
Sarah gasped on the floor, her lips turning blue.
"Look for the hex bag, Eva!" Dean growled, tossing the mattress off the bed.
No, no...the smell, it was stronger over by the window so I moved over there but the stench was gone. No, not gone but not as strong. What was different? My eyes found the empty phone receiver and not even thinking, I rushed to the receiver where Crowley was calling them, "Great, big, bloody heroes," in a ferocious growl. I grabbed it and smashed it against the desk, pieces going everywhere. In the midst of all the broken plastic was a little, brown bag. Not even knowing what I was doing, I figured destroying it was imperative so that's what I did. I lifted my foot high and stomped on it as hard as I could. Two things happened as a result - first, the smell became so pungent that I bent over and retched, thankful that I'd held off on dinner that night; second, Sarah took a deep, gasping breath, filling her lungs over and over again until her lips were a normal color and tears slid slowly out of her blinking eyes.
Both brothers looked shocked as their eyes bounced from the floor, where I'd stomped on the bag, to my face which was probably purple by now. "I gotta…" I pointed to the door, making a quick exit before I made the mess we'd made out of Sarah's room a little bit worse. There was a poor, unfortunate bush right outside of the door and I lost whatever was in my stomach on that bush. Since I'd become a Nephilim, I'd turned into a regular puker, much to my chagrin. It was definitely on the cons list.
Breathing some fresh air, I leaned my head on the side of the building. A hand grabbed my shoulder and I jumped, turning around and nearly falling into the vomit-covered bush but that same hand kept me steady. "How did you know?" The look on Sam's face was gratitude and I was proud to say, a little in awe. "You-you saved her."
"Couldn't you smell it?" Confused, he opened his mouth and then closed it. "I just...used my angelic super sniffer, I guess."
His eyebrows popped upwards, looking as amused as he could considering what had just happened to his friend. "Your-your super sniffer?"
Nodding toward the room, I asked, "Is Sarah okay?"
"Yeah," Sam let out a disbelieving chuckle, "Yeah, because you saved her."
Not able to help myself, I narrowed my eyes. "And you almost left me in the bunker." I smiled a little to let him know I was kidding. Kind of. "Well, I mean, all I did was smell something terrible and on pure instinct, did my best to get rid of that terrible smell. But in the end, I made the smell much worse and ended up…" Realizing I should just shut up, I cleared my throat. "Feels good to be the hero for a change."
Rolling his eyes, he yanked me toward him with his arm around my waist, hugging me tightly. "Thank you. And I was wrong. If you'd stayed in the bunker, Sarah would be dead." He kissed the top of my head.
Enjoying the hug and the contact, I closed my eyes and leaned into him. "What do we do now? He's not going to -"
Sam's phone rang again and we both groaned loudly. "Here we go again. Come on, let's go inside so Dean can hear."
When we walked back in, my nose scrunched up at the lingering smell and I placed myself far away from where I'd stomped on that bag as Sam answered the phone. Dean glanced in my direction, an unreadable expression on his face.
"How in the bloody hell did you find that bag?" Crowley growled, all amusement gone from his voice.
"What can I say, Crowley? The 'great, big, bloody heroes' won this one," Dean smirked. "And we'll win the next one...and the next one."
"I hardly think saving one out of three is considered a winning streak, boys," His voice was back to being calm, probably ready to pull out the other tricks he had in his sleeve. Sarah didn't look too pleased hearing that statistic. "Besides, there are lots of other damsels in distress and innocent whippersnappers out there that you've clopped away from on your white stallions. It's funny though that you couldn't save the one damsel in distress that mattered, am I right, Sammy?"
My heart started beating double time and I stiffened. He couldn't be talking about me, could he?
Dean grabbed the phone out of Sam's hand, and he snarled, "You know what? I know you love the sound of your own voice, Crowley, but-"
"I haven't seen her since she bolted out of here but I have to say - for a few days, I think she enjoyed my company." Sam gritted his teeth as he looked in my direction but I looked away, not able to handle the eye contact. I could feel my face burning and I held my breath, terrified that Crowley would go into details that I wasn't willing to talk about. "There was dinner, dancing...other things that I'm sure she's too shy to talk about. You, Moose, you might be forgettable but you don't forget your first torturer." Tears filled my eyes and I tried to breathe but I couldn't seem to fill my lungs properly. "I tasted her blood, Sammy."
"Enough!" Sam growled, reaching for the phone but Dean moved it out of reach. "Why don't you show your face here and say that to my face, you coward!"
Crowley chuckled. "Where's the fun in that? It wouldn't take much to snap my fingers and-"
"So, do it, already!" Sam's growl turned into a cough, which he tried to muffle with his forearm.
Dean shook his head at his brother, putting the phone up close to his own mouth. "You're not getting Kevin. You're not getting the demon tablet. So you can suck it, Crowley."
"Don't forget about Evangelina…"
"She's not even part of this!" Sam's face was getting pale and I moved closer to him as he put his hand on the wall beside him. "Forget about her."
But The Demon King ignored him, "Forget about Kevin. I'd give up a prophet to slice into her delicate skin again. What do you say, pet? That's right - I know you're there. I've got little birds everywhere. They saw you arrive and they saw you heave-ho in the bushes out front. And now that I've got my sights on you, darling..." Both Winchesters turned their wide eyes to me. "I'll be a nice chap and give you twenty-four hours to think about it." This time when Sam grabbed at the phone, he managed to catch it and hang it up. All of us sighed with relief.
"You were right. He knew I was here all along," I mumbled, sitting down on the bed beside Sarah. I had to admit, she'd been a trooper. And I thought I was lost in all this, I couldn't imagine how she was feeling. After a deep inhale, I asked, "What do we do now?"
"Am I...is he going to come after me again?" Sarah asked, looking at each of them.
Dean looked at Sam and shot him a meaningful glance. "I don't know. Maybe."
Sarah looked panicked for about half a second before she steeled herself. "Okay. What do I need to do?"
Sam winced as he looked down at her before he asked, "How do you feel about Kansas?"
I'm struggling, y'all! I'm stuck! If you're reading, drop me a word of encouragement. It would really help me get through this writer's block. I appreciate it!