I haven't been able to post this close together lately because of work but I've actually been pretty sick. Lost a whole week and a half of work. Thank goodness for savings accounts, huh? It wasn't so bad though. Between laying around trying to recover, meds and doctor visits, I've had a lot of time to catch up on my SPN stuff. I watched a few episodes to get into the characters I'm planning to use for the next handful of chapters and I'm pumped to write. So at least something good came out of it. Considering lately I've been bemoaning my chance to actually get to do this due to how much I've been working, this is kind of a blessing in disguise.

Chapter 38: Cabin Fever

Sam didn't take the time to wait for the next day to get the hell out of Wallace. There was no time. It was already getting close to twilight and had to wonder if he had ever felt the desire to flee a scene worse than this. There had been issues with the law before, both small and large. Dean and he were no strangers to the idea of booking it out in a hurry and they'd long since perfected the checklist to make sure the place was clean of any evidence.

Get everything out of the room and into the car's trunk. Wipe down for prints. Recently he'd even begun to take the time to clean the drain of the shower and sink for hair ever since the pair of Leviathans had taken the brothers' forms to lead a campaign of terror and dead bodies against them. He didn't feel done until he knew there was nothing even the maid could find to clean, but he always had been this way. Even with hunts where they hadn't attracted the wrong kind of attention, the Winchesters had undertaken this ritual.

Leaving nothing behind was standard, and Emma had been taught what to do just as well as she'd been shown how to clean weapons, research and anything else that came with hunting life.

"It's okay," he found himself saying to her as they finished up. He'd already said it three times now but the phrase kept slipping out. Ironically every time he wondered if he'd ever felt frantic about leaving before.

He was no longer sure if he was trying to reassure her or himself. Perhaps it was both.

It wasn't that he hadn't been worried about Dean when things like this happened. His brother had an extraordinary talent for getting in trouble. Then again, so did Sam, but it was usually with demons and monsters that liked to make long terms plans and were gunning for him anyway. Dean had a short fuse and cared way more about the job than his own welfare. If he thought saving the person might get him in trouble with the law, the older brother would gladly throw his own safety away in a heartbeat. It was only an inevitability that police would chase after him over breaking and entering, murder, or even just fraudulent credit cards.

But Dean was nothing if not self-sufficient. As much as Sam worried about him and insisted he could be relied on to help and take of Dean, the man could very easily take care of himself. Handcuffs and bars couldn't hold the older Winchester well and in any situation that he couldn't use his charm to slip away from, he could always barrel his way through on pure stubbornness and strength of experience. So as much as Sam worried, he knew deep down the worry was mostly unwarranted.

That was not true for Emma, not in the slightest.

She was naive. She was young. She was scared.

Even a glance at her face made him feel like his stomach sank down just a little bit more. Her eyes seemed dead, as if she had committed some ultimate sin, that the guillotine was just waiting for the rope to be released and allow the blade to come down and end her.

He didn't have it in him to scold her. He was sure John would have, sure Dean would have. They both would have been livid, probably screamed, even if it would have waited until they were out of town and in safety. It would have come, all the 'how could you do something so stupid' or 'what were you even thinking' demands spouted out. Sam knew he wouldn't have done what she had. He wouldn't have stopped them sure, but it would have been just been to subdue them and get to the police and allow the proper authorities to handle it, make sure the teen girls were rescued and safe, and the boys would be carted off to be handled by fellow humans with normal laws for normal crimes.

He didn't ask her why. Even if he could force the words past his lips, he didn't think he wanted to know. He didn't want to have her explain, even if she had one to offer to him. There was too high a chance it was he already suspected, that there was something in her blood, something that spurned this on, something that would encourage her to disregard any life if it meant she could slake her lust for the kill.

It wasn't that the boys hadn't deserved it. In his darker moments, he would have surely done the same, without a soul or high on demon blood, but that scared him even more. Sam could excuse such behavior, and often had.

It almost felt ironic to him that Dean's biggest fear concerning the girl had been that would turn out like him in his darkest moments, and Sam had scoffed at the idea of the girl being dragged down to becoming lost in alcohol and wandering road trips. At Dean's worst, he was still a hero. At Sam's worst he was a monster… and he had to wonder if she was too.

The room was cleaned of every possible trace of them, while the police radio was kept close by in case any more possible information came out that they needed to hear. He looked over at her as her glassy eyes met his, fear seeping out from them as badly as the tears were. The memory of Dean's promise to their dad filtered into his head even as he tried to keep it at bay, that one day if Sam went too far and Dean couldn't pull him back, the older brother would have to do the heartbreaking but correct thing and kill him.

At the end of the day, a man was responsible for shooting his own dog.

He crossed over the room faster than she could react, grabbing her shoulders and nearly shaking her.

"It's going to be okay," he said, his voice as firm as it was tight. "Say it, Emma."

"O-okay… It's..."

"Say it!" he demanded, not even knowing why he was practically yelling at her.

"It's… it's going to be okay."

She didn't sound as if she believed it, but he would make her. Somehow.

This was a one time thing. He'd make sure of that.

"It's going to be okay," he breathed, his tone quieter now, hopefully more comforting. "I swear to you, it's all going to be okay."

It was the mantra he used to himself as they left. The drive back to the cabin was only three hours by the interstate and only four if they stayed on country roads. Part of it didn't feel far enough away, but if they had to go further that was easy. Step one had been cleaning up. Step two was to leave. If step three was more distance then he could do that too.

They'd be back in the cabin by the time it got dark. He was sure the police wouldn't even be by to try to talk to Emma as a witness until the next day to try to be respectful of the trauma of the situation. Probably by noon he'd get a call on his phone. Sam had time to plan their next move. Not a lot, but some.

Every creek of the floorboards under Emma's feet felt foreboding to her. The crickets and birds outside seemed almost as if they were mimicking screams in their volume. Any drip from the faucet or sizzling pop of oil from the pan seemed as if it were an explosion of sound, too loud and too much for her.

It was the quiet that had blanketed the cabin that was the problem. It was both too subdued and yet not silent enough for her. Every little thing scrapped over her nerves, straining her hearing for anything that might be her only warning of some horrible fate coming for her.

Sam spent most of his day listening to the radio, watching the television for the news or pouring over any possible newspaper he could get, sometimes driving miles to get them. She'd suggested ordering a couple subscriptions in order to avoid wasting the gas and time before he'd asked her why she thought it was it was a good idea just to hand out their address to anyone who could possibly be looking for them.

His tone hadn't been harsh, not even a trace of scolding in it, but the tone was still tired as if honestly wondering why she hadn't seen the danger in the suggestion. In retrospect, it was kind of stupid to sign up for things like that, and instead just ducked her head with a soft apology and went back to making lunch for them.

A week had already passed like that. Just as Sam had feared, the news had gotten a hold of the story and it wasn't everywhere but it was being covered enough to concern them. People's names were withheld, due to everyone involved being a minor but there was enough there for the two Winchesters to see the truth. The girls had all lived, all but one of them released from the hospital, and while was still in care it was a good prediction she would pull through. It seemed those little savages had at least had the decency to keep the girls fed, though Emma could not even wonder just how terrified they all still were.

The Amazon was jumping at shadows at herself, and there had been nothing those boys could have done to hurt her. Back then, it hadn't even really occurred to her they posed her any threat, knowing on a logical level what they'd planned but more furious over their victims than herself. Those four would probably never fully recover but Emma tried to comfort herself with the fact they had at least come out alive, even though the one that had been there longest had been there for what looked to be a full year.

The boys, though dead, were clearly indicated in their crimes. It was a story that would rock their little town for years to come, she was sure of it. A small community with neighbors everyone knew, familiar faces you saw in the stores, at work and church. The trust would be broken, she was sure. For years to come, they would probably all watch each other closely, wonder what was really going on behind closed doors.

She might have felt more sorry for them all if she wasn't so concerned for her own well-being. The story of a scraggly man didn't even make the reports, the police have to be sure that it was just that, a story. Mentions of a 'couple of characters of interest' were in the reports, but oddly no sketches. She didn't understand that, sure there would be a manhunt for the two of them. She had to wonder if they were still considered witnesses or culprits.

"They're probably overrun by actual FBI by now, and they can be very picky about what's released to the press," Sam explained when she'd expressed her concern. These days he had bags under his eyes, barely sleeping. She didn't have it in her to urge him to sleep, guilt just building in her gut but remaining unspoken. He was cleaning up her mess, or at least trying to keep it from rolling them both over. There was no right for her to try to tell him how to act. "This though… this is a problem."

While there were no drawings of their faces, something else had hit the news. A drawing of the symbol of Harmonia, offered up to her with the kill. The news didn't show the body of her kill, chest naked save for the blood and puckered skin, split by her blade. She could only suppose they had the decency to now show the flesh she'd turned into a horror show. It came with a report of a serial killer than had already struck several times now to attack men in their late thirties or mid-twenties. The reporter giving the story stressed that this was a break from the norm on several accounts which either meant a copycat or that the killer was getting bolder, but they didn't know for sure.

"They'll figure on a copycat," Sam told her, chin resting on his interlocked fingers as he watched the TV, unmoving. It unnerved her how he didn't even blink. "It breaks too many rules, but the Seattle investigation was sure it was a man due to the strength needed to throw the bodies. It's more likely I'll become a suspect than you."
She didn't know if that was supposed to reassure her. It certainly didn't even if that was the case.

"Uncle..." she tried, loathing how her voice wavered. "I'm… I'm so sorry."

He didn't move, but his eyes did snap to her, causing her to flinch. She'd do anything to go back a week, to take it all back, to have had better control of herself.

"The Amazons will know the truth," he said after a moment, just looking back to the television. It made her stomach sink that he didn't even acknowledge her apology, as if she hadn't even spoken it, or worse yet, as if it wasn't worth listening to.

And why not? They were just words, pointless and worthless. They wouldn't fix what she'd done. He had to do that for her.

"What do you think they'll do?" he asked her.

Honestly, she didn't know. They'd sent one of the furies after her, but according to Megaera there had been no crime that had concerned the demon. It was up to them if they wanted to do anything about it. As far as she knew they'd never come after her but there was no indication if they were even looking or not. She didn't see how they could have given her up willingly, surely wanting to punish her at the very least for running away from the tribe. Maybe she had been moving around too much to be tracked down.

"I… I don't see them leaving this be," she eventually settled on saying. "I think they'll try to come after me if they can. It's all going to depend on where they are now. The tribe finds a place and settles there for a couple years before it's time to breed again. Amazons leave as individuals, but no matter what your heart is always with the tribe. I imagine that means if any come after me, it won't be the full force. They'll probably send pairs out to track me down, and it depends on how far away they are too. If it takes too many away far distances they'll probably send much less in force. Of course, I was born a little over a year ago, so they have plenty of time to get back in time to find their chosen victims to father the next batch. Sadly, they'll have plenty of time to search before they're needed back."

It was just a guess on her part, but at least it was an educated guess as opposed to a stab in the dark.

Sam didn't reply for a while, not until the program on the TV moved on to other news, but he only switched the channel to another station.

"Keep an eye on it," he said as he stood up. "I'm heading out."

"Where are you going?" she asked him.

"Need to see if I can find some leads."

"For what?"

He only shook his head in refusal to answer and patted her shoulder.

"It'll be okay," he replied instead and moved toward the door.

Sam didn't really know why he didn't tell Emma his plans. He'd been weighing his options for a while now but no matter what he thought about, it all came down to one option. He could keep her safe from the law easily enough. There was a whole country to hide away in, plenty of small towns or huge cities they could run to if need be. Sam had plenty of experience of staying out of sight and he seriously doubted she would become an honest to god suspect. If anything, he would be in more danger than she would, and while the killing had happened he'd been surrounded by police.

While it was likely suspicion was firmly on him, there were too many ways it could go. In the confusion of what had happened, it would take a while for any kind of fallout to hit them. Sam could get them anywhere he needed to, and he was considered legally dead on top of that. He was sure no matter what kind of trouble reared its head, he could keep them out of it.

The other matter was the Amazons, and there was only one thing to do about that.

He had to find them before they found him. If Emma was right and they did send anyone, that was at least movement. A slip-up could happen, a mistake that would provide some kind of clue. Of course, that would be the proverbial needle in a haystack. They could be anywhere and the trail had long since gone cold. Sam didn't have many cases under the list of one that got away, but sadly he did have enough experience to know if someone really wanted to stay gone then they were gone.

Luckily he had something that gave him a little bit of an edge.

He drove until he hit Wyoming and drove a couple hours more, just sending Emma a text that he was okay and he'd be back sometime tomorrow, along with instructions to lock all the doors and arm herself in case anyone came around. He didn't think it would come to that, but he wanted to show her some level of trust. That was the most dangerous thing in all of this. When he'd been facing the terrors of Azazel, Sam had been terrified of his brother pulling away from him, that his dad had thought he wouldn't be worth saving and one day Dean might agree with that sentiment. He didn't want her to think anything could cause him to abandon her and that he still trusted her to handle himself.

She didn't send anything back but a simple, "Okay," but that was good enough for him.

He chose a field at random, empty and by the side of the road with a single large oak tree in the middle. It was an idyllic place for a picnic or to sunbathe, or for some young lover to carve into the bark their initials in a rustic ritual of a promise of love that would last forever. Sam placed his hand on the tree, feeling the rough outer layer against the skin of his palm, pressing in until it almost hurt.

A memory from his childhood played out in his mind, when he'd been only thirteen. It had been once again a hunt where he was on his own, Dean tackling the job with their dad and Sam had been left with a babysitter, an older woman whose house had smelled like cookies, stale cake and cats. She'd been nice, understanding of a family new to town that needed help. John always could tell a good sob story of single fatherhood, of being without a wife and worried about his children. After a month of staying in the town, John trusted the woman to look after his son while he went out to work and Sam had spent a long weekend there eating sweets and reading books stuffed under the mattress. There'd been enough crosses there to know she wouldn't approve of texts full of Celtic stories and different regions of their gods. He'd been mostly looking into the area of Ireland and their stories, but a few odd ends had been there too.

Even back then, he'd hated life on the road. As a small child, he hadn't understood the need to move all the time, and when he'd been old enough to understand, he'd resented it. He'd always loved the knowledge though, adore the books and all that he could learn.

He remembered reading some watered down version of the Norse gods, nothing but basic stories and tales, the kind Sam could check out of the library without getting a raised eyebrow from the librarians. There hadn't been much in fact there, but anything had been better than nothing and back then Sam hadn't been in possession of his trusted laptop that could get him any possible info he could think of.

Oak trees were important, a temple of sorts for Odin if he remembered correctly. He wouldn't give it much stock, knowing it had little to do with the trickster he was currently thinking of, that it wasn't Loki's symbol and it certainly wasn't Gabriel's, but the memory made him chuckle anyway. The thought of a boy huddled in his bed of a God-fearing Christian, reading page after page of ancient deities, a boy that would pray at night to that same God for his family's safety, for happiness, for maybe the moves to end one day and to have a normal life.

He removed his hand and turned around, laying his back against the tree as he slowly slipped down to the ground. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he sighed and wondered if this would even work. Gabriel came if he wanted to, and while perhaps he could risk a summoning ritual again, he had a feeling the archangel wouldn't be so forgiving of that again.

So he did what he hadn't had the faith to bother with in years. He prayed.

"Gabriel," he breathed out loud. "If you can hear me, I… I need to talk to you. It's really important. I just… things have gotten bad. I know you might not care. After all, when are things not bad for me? It might seem stupid to you but… I… I just need your help. Please."

It felt odd that he'd tried to put up such a strong front for Emma, to try and show her he was confident about their chances, and yet here he felt so uncertain and scared. Gabriel might not even show up, and even if he did, would he even care about the Winchester's troubles? He'd made it clear often enough Sam's problems came from not listening to him in the first place and he was in no mood for a lecture, but if there was even a chance then he had to take it.

Nothing came, the sky as clear as before, the tree swaying slightly in the wind, but Sam remained alone. Scoffing, wondering why he'd even come all this way, he felt idiotic for his fear of allowing the archangel anywhere near Emma. He could have made a fool of himself in the backyard and been done with it.

"Fine," he muttered. "Fine, I don't need you. I'll do this on my own."

"Take five minutes to freshen up and you sure do get bitchy," Gabriel muttered next to him. "You must have been such a pain in the ass to live with."

Sam whipped around to see the archangel sitting down next to him, smirking up at him.

"You came," he found himself whispering, barely believing it himself.

"Well, sounded important," he replied with a shrug. "Besides, I got the feeling the last thing we needed was another six month long montage of you chasing after me. If there's anything you can beat me in, it's stubbornness."

The remark might have meant to be cutting, but Sam felt too relieved to care. Maybe Gabriel was trying to come off as prickly to keep from encouraging this kind of behavior, but he had still come, still answered Sam's prayer. A flood of relief filled his chest, and before he knew it, he was grabbing the angel and pulling him into his lap, kissing him eagerly.

It wasn't what he'd come for, not by a long shot. He had something important to take care of but his body wouldn't stop and Gabriel made no move to fight him off. Right under that tree another ritual took place, maybe not of love, but certainly admiration and need. Hands grabbed limbs and held the angel in place, dirt and grass stuck to sweaty skin and Sam whispered senseless words of gratitude and pure need into the skin of the angel, his angel. Gabriel seemed to realize he needed this and simply allowed it, petting his hair as they made love, saying nothing but just basking in the worship even though it was clear Sam needed to give it more than the angel needed to receive it.

It was rare for Sam to be soft in the bedroom, more the type to pin his lover down and ravage her, or him in Gabriel's case. Still, the mood seemed more… sensitive this time. He needed something healing, not tearing and clawing. It was like releasing a valve, getting the pressure down before he exploded. By the end, he was an utter mess, but he felt better than he had for a week… maybe longer.

"Prayer booty calls," Gabriel mused as he lay out in the grass, as naked as a newborn baby. "If that had been more the norm I might not have ditched Heaven in the first place."

Sam was pulled from his bliss at the realization of course that's why the archangel thought he'd been called, that he'd pounced the second Gabriel had appeared. A blush of mortification colored his cheeks and he dove for his pants while hoping against hope no one drove by on the road and saw them or any possible owner of the land came by to witness their naked bodies.

"I didn't… that isn't why I… Oh god, I didn't just sleep with you again," he groaned as he covered his face with his hands.

"You certainly have a weird idea of pillow talk," Gabriel noted as Sam yanked his clothes on as quickly as he could, his face feeling so hot it was nearly as bad as Hell had been. "Not that we bothered with pillows this time."

"Stop," he groaned. "Just please… stop. I didn't mean to. I was just so shocked by you showing up, I got carried away."

"Oh, so you didn't pray for me in order to get your rocks off?" the angel asked with a disbelieving expression. "You expect me to buy that after that performance?"

"It's the truth!" he exclaimed. "I… I need your help locating someone. A group of people actually, but they might not be together."

Gabriel seemed a bit disappointed and Sam desperately wished he'd led with that. How out of it could he have been that he'd just done… that?! He was too old for moves of senseless passion, or at the very least would like to believe he was.

Seriously, that's how he'd acted when he'd been without a soul, though… it had never been that fulfilling. Shaking his head to try to clear his thoughts, he waited for Gabriel to get dressed as well, feeling for all the world like a boy that had eaten his cake before dinner and was now waiting to be grounded for it.

"Well, I can at least thank you for buttering me up first," Gabriel said, and Sam didn't have the thought to correct him. Letting the archangel believe that had simply been a payment for his help was slightly less mortifying than the fact he was so moved the angel actually had come to help him that happiness, gratitude and longing had simply overcome him. "Who do you need to find?"

"Have you ever heard of the Amazons?" Sam asked him. "They're a Greek tribe that-"

"Oh, Ares's girls," Gabriel cut him off. "Oh yeah. I haven't seen them for… oh, about eight hundred years. Fun chicks. Always willing to throw down and oooh, let me tell you, delightfully flexible in the bedroom. I think it's all the exercise they do."

Sam stared at him in surprise. That hadn't been the impression he'd gotten from them at all.

"I thought they only had sex to breed," he replied, but Gabriel only looked at him like he'd started spouting nonsense.

"The hell are you talking about?" he asked.

"You know, the whole sleeping with someone every couple of years to produce children," he said. "They get pregnant real easily and only sleep with men to have more warriors. Super fast reproductive abilities, around the same speed as mayflies."

"That's news to me," he admitted. "Though honestly, I haven't seen Ares for years. He's a bit standoffish. Kind of guy you can have a kegger with, but you'd best avoid him afterward because he always either breaks something at the party or gets pissed if you make a pass as one of his relatives, which is awkward because almost all of them are his relatives. Seriously, you ever seen how incestuous that group is? You need a flowchart to keep up. I guess when genetics don't play a part you can do what you like though. Not like they can make kids that are born with defects, except Hephaestus but I blame Hera for just being a bitch-"

"Gabriel!" Sam snapped. "Not important!"

The stress was starting to come back with fierce vengeance. It was wearing his patience very thin.

"Okay, okay. Yes, I know of them, though from the sounds of it they might have changed a bit since the last time I partied with them. Why do you ask?" he asked.

"I need to kill them. All of them," Sam replied coolly. "And I need you to tell me where they are."

"You're kidding," Gabriel said, snorting in laughter before seeing Sam's expression, serious as stone. "You're not kidding. Should I ask why you want to wipe out an entire group of people? What did they do?"

He wasn't sure he should share, but if he couldn't trust the angel then what hope did he have?

"I'd rather not say, not right now," he admitted. "Maybe someday, but for now I really just need you to tell me where they are."

"I can't," Gabriel replied. "I don't know."

"Gabriel, you're an archangel. You can lock in on people easily," he argued. "What, are they blocked like I am?"

"Sort of. This is kind of hard to explain, but the different pantheons have rules. We're not really supposed to interfere with each other, or their chosen humans. Any human Heaven or Hell has a claim on, oh yeah I can zero in on them without a bit of trouble. Norse champions too, though I try not to ever since my secret was exposed, and that's only because I'm riding around in Loki. Greek champions and chosen are not within my limits, and knowing what you have planned is a big no-no for me to help."

"You've got to be kidding me!" he snapped angrily. "What the hell was all that about in the hotel then? We have no less than five different kinds of gods trying to hogtie us to either kill us or hand us off to Lucifer and Michael."

"Yeah, and that wasn't a direct violation but it was certainly skirting the rules," Gabriel admitted. "Technically gods are allowed to kill anyone who bothers them first, and you did come to the hotel. Sure it was a trap, but you still sprung it of your own volition. And another technicality was they might not have wanted to actually harm you. Why do you think so many of them were there from different pantheons? It was all just under discussion but even that was really too far. It did go too far in the end, but since they broke the rules first, it wouldn't be proper for any revenge to be sought. Let me ask you, did you ever face any kind of repercussions for that evening?"

Actually, no. Sam had spent a year wandering around, hunting before he'd gone back to Dean and according to his brother, his year had been relatively quiet too. Gods probably could have found either of them if they'd looked, yet nothing had come of it. Surely, there would have been several pissed entities.

"So, they broke the rules?" Sam asked.

"It was probably excused as an emergency, especially since the apocalypse would have affected a lot more than the humans that just followed Abrahamic teachings," he admitted with a shrug. "Kind of a break glass just in case sort of situation. Gods can be very cross if their own flock is threatened, but every religion believes their end of the world prophecy is the one that's going to happen, so there is this idea it's rude to interfere with anyone. I think the fact that Lucifer killed them probably pissed off several entities… though it's odd… For all of them to die so easily..."

Sam had simply taken it as a testament to how terribly powerful the devil was, but Gabriel looked kind of lost in thought. Was it an odd thing to have happened? Well, it didn't really matter at the moment.

"Gabriel, back to the problem at hand," he said, breaking the angel's concentration. Whatever he was pondering over wasn't important right now. "You're telling me there really is no way for you to find them?"

"Like I said, it's against the rules. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not welcome anywhere. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a price on my head. It's only the fact everyone thinks I'm dead that's keeping me from getting hassled."

Sam wanted to be touched that despite all of that Gabriel had still come to him, but it was damped by the fact that it wasn't leading to any useful help.

"They found us," he hissed out. "They knew where to put the hotel. They made the storm to lure us in. Clearly these rules can be broken. You can find them, can't you?"

"There are means to peak in," Gabriel sighed out. "If they don't block the vision with sigils and the like. I doubt they would think they need to do that, but I don't know for sure."

"Sounds like you don't even want to try," he accused.

"Oh look. He can be taught."

Sam resisted the urge to take a swipe at him, but only barely. Trying to hit someone that wouldn't even feel it wouldn't do anything to help and it wouldn't even help him feel better. He wasn't Dean after all.

"Seriously Sam, what is this all about?"

"Would telling you get me what I want?" he asked, actually weighing the risk of revealing Emma if it would help protect her.

"No," Gabriel replied honestly with a shake of his head.

"Then get lost," the hunter replied coldly. "I'll do this on my own."

Gabriel looked for all the world like he wanted to say something, to maybe warn Sam against this course of action but just sighed.

"Like you've ever listened to me," he muttered. "Alright, I guess the best I can do is just wish you luck. Do you best not to get killed, alright? I'd hate to start missing you."

It was the slightest hint of some kind of feeling on the angel's part, but he was gone with the sounds of feathery wings flapping before the hunter even had a chance to react. Figuring that might be for the best, he didn't say anything and instead allowed himself just to get back to the car.

Looks like he'd be doing this the hard way after all.

It was clear he was hunting again without having to say anything. Emma might not be as experienced as she would have liked to be, but she was no idiot either. If anything, the stacks of papers got bigger, and he took to cleaning the weapons nonstop. His meals were large, as if building up his energy for something, but at least she didn't have to worry about his health. He slept too, though she could only tell from the fact his bed would occasionally need to be made. He stayed up past her own bedtime and was always awake before her. He never stopped moving, always working on something.

"Where are we going?" she found herself asking after several days. He was pouring over a list of cities on a notepad, crossing some off and making notes by the ones he hadn't already dismissed.

"You're going to stay here where it's safe," he replied as he looked up at her. His gaze wasn't as harsh as it had been before, but she saw the rejection all the same. He no longer trusted her, no longer believed she had anything to contribute.

The Amazon didn't even have it in her to argue with him on it, only swallowing hard and nodding her head.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Someone should keep an eye on the local news," she replied, supplying him with an excuse he clearly didn't need. Better than admitting she'd just be in his way. "Where are you going then?"

"I don't know. Still figuring it out," he supplied and said no more than that.

A few days later, he was leaving, and it came with more talking than they'd done since they'd arrived back at the cabin.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay on your own?" he asked her at the door, a couple bags slung over his shoulder.

'No,' Emma thought to herself but smiled as sincerely as she could. "I'll be fine. Someone has to hold down the fort."

"I'll call to check in every day. Let it ring once and don't answer. I'll call a second time, and then you answer," he instructed. "If it rings more than once the first time, it's not me. Don't answer for anything."

"Got it," she replied with a nod. "I'll only call if it's an emergency."

They'd already gone over this during breakfast, him grilling the rules for contact in her head. She wasn't supposed to contact him unless she really had to, just in case he was in the middle of a hunt. He hadn't even tried to hide that's what he planned to do, as if knowing she wasn't dumb enough to fall for any possible lie he'd think up. Either that or he didn't think she was worth the effort of a fib that wouldn't work anyway.

"Don't answer the door for anyone, and keep all the locks firmly closed. I want you to check no less than three times a day, but don't do it at scheduled times. In case anyone is watching, I don't want it to pick up a schedule from you. That can lead to openings," he said. "Keep the salt lines secure, and make sure the windows are properly covered with the sigils. If anything looks so much as scratched, you repair them immediately and get in contact with me. I'll get back as soon as I possibly can."

The list continued, watch out for strangers, trust no one, only leave if she had to to resupply food and protective herbs or salt. The rules almost seemed endless, and with every one she felt more and more weighed down. Still, she nodded to each one, repeated them back dutifully and promised him with all the seriousness that she could muster that she would not let him down or give him a reason to worry.

He finally left, but not before giving one last sweep over the cabin with his eyes. She closed the door behind him and locked it up properly, leaning against it and listening for the Impala to drive off. It was only when it was far off did she allow the dry sob to escape past her throat, her heart breaking at her weakness, fearing rejection too much to even ask that she could come with to watch his back.

Her uncle was sure he was better off alone, no longer willing to risk her being around.

The nest of vampires hadn't been an easy kill, too much work put into scoping the place out and checking to see if there were no humans around. In the end, he'd been lucky to keep his scent blocked well enough to pour out the gasoline and torch the place. The couple that had been able to burst out of there had found themselves on the end of Sam's machete before they could even put out the flames on their skin.

The last one he left alive, slicing into him as he demanded information about any wandering women that had been in Chicago a couple years ago. He didn't feel any guilt about the dead man's blood he pushed into the vampire with the blade, a few droplet at a time to keep it from knocking the bastard out. The skeletons that Sam had found buried around the outskirts of the abandoned factory assured him these were no vegetarian vampires trying to keep off the radar by keeping their victim count low.

After begging and begging with the insistence that he didn't know anything, Sam had figured he was telling the truth and chopped his head off, deciding it was best to get to the next lead.

Emma got the calls, just like promised. Sam checked in often, but there was never a clue about where he was. Ideas of trying to track his cellphone, a trick she'd overheard him and her father talking about every once in a while occurred to her, but she didn't dare risk it. He was at least calling. There was no sense in making him think she might do something stupid again.

So she took what she could get and promised him that she was fine and nothing was amiss back at home.

Sam had counted four stabs so far, the ōkami begging where she was tied up, blubbering as the blood poured through her teeth.

"Three more," he snarled down at her, not wanting to hear anything but an answer. "They're Greek! Stay around for a couple years and then vanish! You were in Miami the same time they were! I know you were!"

"I was in Japan at the time!" she screamed at him.

"So the passport with the fake name but your face is just of your twin?!" he demanded angrily.

"I put my photo in there, you idiot!"

Sam glared down at the monster, tied to the table with ropes, chains and stakes in her arms and legs.

"Then why was your photo on the registration website?" he growled out before pressing the sharpened bamboo into her chest, the threat silent.

"Eat shit, hunter!" she screamed at him.

"Five," he replied calmly as he raised the bamboo dagger and harshly brought it down into her chest. "Let's try this again. You still have two more chances."

Emma had no idea what Thanksgiving was, or why it was important to celebrate. Something about being thankful for their blessings and family. She felt it was odd to even pay attention to all things considering, but she was thankful that Sam was back. Their meal was small, takeout from a local diner with turkey, stuffing and other such items. She didn't question any of it, truly grateful that she'd had this. She'd even fallen asleep on the couch, content for the first time since all of this had started and wondered if he'd accomplished what he'd meant to.

By the time she was awake again, all there was of Sam was a note saying he'd had to leave again but would be back soon. That and her full stomach was the only proof she hadn't dreamed it all, and even then she wondered if she actually had.

A headache crept into her skull and she gripped her head before falling back to the couch, not even wanting to move around the empty cabin.

The lamia talked more than Sam expected, but there wasn't much to learn about current affairs. Tales of how the Amazons had once settled on an island just off the shores of Greece and plenty of history about when they'd moved out in the world. Apparently, the war they'd experienced so many losses had been against demons, during the time when Greece had been falling to Rome and the religion had shifted from pagan beliefs toward a more monotheistic type of taste. It had been a long battle, guerrilla war tactics that had ravaged them and caused them to turn to Harmonia for blessings to continue the fight.

"It's a losing battle," the lamia choked out. Sam was glad she could still talk after he had yanked so many of her teeth out. "We're all dead. The old ways have been dead for centuries. They don't even have a cause to fight for anymore. Kill five demons, there are fifty more in their place."

"And where would they go to kill them?" the hunter demanded.

The lamia only spat in his face, and for her trouble lost another tooth. For his effort, Sam ended up bitten and laughed at for getting too close.

He only shot her in the eye and started the questioning again, barely paying attention to his bleeding arm.

It was winter again, and Emma found herself thinking of the diner when she'd mentioned Persephone and Hades, much to the chagrin of her father. He'd never liked her talking about that kind of thing, had always wanted her to pretend to be normal.

Pretend to be human.

Pretend to be harmless.

Pretend to be anything but an Amazon.

The girl found herself sick to her stomach as the realization dawned on her that she sincerely wished she'd simply done as she'd been told back then.

At least she couldn't actually throw up again. She rarely had an appetite anymore. Her head hurt too much to bother with it.

Looking through the graves of the dead victims felt like scrapping the bottom of the barrel, but it was either that or the bottom of another bottle of whiskey. The alcohol kept him warm on the winter nights, exhuming the bodies he needed to get the personal possessions of. Necromancy was a messy business but it was a lead he hadn't tried yet. Surely one of the men the Amazons had killed could be summoned as a ghost, and he'd learn anything he could.

Still, the recollections he got out of the unlucky victims were short and not filled with much of anything helpful. Just the same story over and over again. A pretty woman at a bar, then only days later a teen girl coming for them and killing them messy. Still, Sam took what he could, names, physical descriptions. He forced the ghosts to talk and tell him everything that might help, even as they began to get agitated, complaining about how they just wanted to be released to rest again. A kinder Sam would have felt bad, but he didn't have the luxury.

"Aww, don't tell me I've got competition here too," a voice complained as Sam worked on digging up his next witness, turning slowly to see a young looking man in raggedy clothing. He was covered in dirt and looked like he hadn't showered in days, not to mention smelling like it. "Look, you want to eat too, go for it but don't go after the fresh graves. That attracts hunters, you know that right?"

Sam blinked, realizing what the person was assuming about him.

"You're a ghoul," he said simply.

"Uh… yeah," he replied. "What are you? Don't smell like my kind, but you've got lots of blood clinging to you."

"Been in Seattle long?" Sam asked conversationally. "Maybe the last year or so?"

"Yeah, about," the ghoul replied, but he took a step back. "You know what, man? Have this grave, it's yours."

"Oh… thanks," he replied as he raised the shovel. "But I have some questions for you first."

Luckily it was too late at night for anyone to hear the screams.

Saturnalia had been an utter waste of time, and she didn't know what she'd been expecting. The thought Sam would be back for that had been the only thing that had pulled her out of bed. She'd busied herself for three whole days to clean the place and herself. It had to appear normal, had to seem like she'd kept up with checking things. It was the only thing that had given her any kind of strength. She'd shopped for a feast, cooked the whole night in preparation for him to come back. The morning passed by while she burned logs in the fireplace and told herself firmly he'd come. He had called, promised he'd be there. He wouldn't lie to her. There was no purpose to it. Her uncle knew his word was law, that she would do what she was told now. If he wouldn't be here, he would have just said so and been done with it.

He did arrive, eventually. The food was cold and they didn't bother to exchange presents. He hadn't remembered to buy her one, saying he'd been so busy, and she didn't talk about the one she'd made for him when she'd been shopping, the effort seeming pointless now. Even with him there, it felt like he wasn't, and the air inside the cabin somehow seemed just as cold as the outside.

The world was white outside, a blanket of fresh snow all around the cabin, but it felt more barren and dead than festive.

It was no surprise that he was gone by morning. She had tried to stay up to be with him but she'd passed out sitting next to him on the couch in front of the fire, only for the morning light to wake her up to see a blanket had been put over her. The tracks in the snow clued her in that she was alone again.

Choking on the despair and anger, her head throbbed. She pulled out the present of salt and other herbs she'd picked for him, all sorted and tied with string and stored in the wooden box she'd put it in carefully and neatly. The wood cracked beneath her fingers before she screamed and chucked it at the wall.

Once the dam broke, there was no stopping it. A nearby table was next, hurled across the room with enough force to break it in several places. Chairs followed, then dishes still needing to be cleaned decorated the walls and floors with shattered porcelain all over. Hefting up the couch, she flipped it and kicked at the underside and arms over and over again, screaming like a banshee predicting the death of a whole village. Wordless sounds of rage and despair were all she seemed capable of making, destroying anything she could get her hands on.

She found a book by chance, bringing it over her head to throw it at a mirror before the reflection stopped her short. Emma's own face scared her, her eyes gold and her face red. It wasn't the face of a human. It never had been.

It never could have hoped to be.

She was an Amazon without a tribe, no family, no honor… no hope.

Tears streamed down her face as she slowly lowered her arm, the book clutched in her hand as she slowly looked down at the title and saw the Odyssey of all titles staring back at her.

"Father..." she choked out with a sob as she clutched the book to her chest, falling to her knees. She didn't even care about the broken splinters and glass digging into her jeans and skin, her heart hurting more than what they could do to her.

She was sick, she knew that. Weak and hopeless, adrift from her tribe. Sam called and came back, but it was out of obligation. Would he forget her one day? Would the calls stop? Would he eventually abandon her? She longed to call him, to beg him to come back, to tell him she couldn't bare for him to be away from her anymore. She was a social creature, had it carved into her very blood and soul to need her family. If she did though, if she broke in such a way and confessed it to him and he rejected her anyway, it would surely kill her.

The courage to take that risk of her own destruction when no one would even miss her memory was no longer in her. It hadn't been in her since the day she'd been strong enough to face the death her father should have brought on her at that motel.

But she'd fix it. She was not a whimpering little girl, needing a wet nurse or coddling. She was a warrior. If she didn't have the strength to face this world alone, she'd do the next best thing. She'd find what was missing.

For the first time in a long time, her head felt clear. She rummaged through the mess until she found her keys and forced her way past the door, uncaring how her stride pushed the salt aside and broke the line. What did it even matter? Nothing cared about her enough to come for her, not her family and certainly not her enemies.

Taking off in her car, she didn't care that the roads were slippery or that the library was closed for the holidays. She smashed the lock easily and slipped inside. She needed to do research, needed a computer and Sam had taken that along with him. Settled down in front of one and happy for the power, she settled down to get to work.

Typing 'Winchester' into the search engine brought about several interesting hits, and she set several up to print so she could look them over at her leisure.

But one caught her eye, not records of arrests and reports of deaths that had popped up first. Instead a location, a tourist trap in California, with words of legends and ghosts seeming to fill the page.

Before she even thought it through, plans to leave Montana formed in her mind, her drive to find something, anything that could lead back to the sensation of family fulfilling her.

Maybe there were answers to be found at this Winchester Mystery Manor.

End of Chapter 38

When you think about how John did his best for his children but no doubt allowed himself to get too involved in the hunt and probably should have been there for his children more, and yet realize that drive to find everything he could that could lead to answers might have been the only thing that prepared Sam and Dean enough to survive all the world threw at them. And then watching as habits learned from the father can lead to very bad places.

What's that phrase about the road to a certain place being paved by good intentions?