Not sure how I feel about this chapter, but it gets us where we need to be.

Saturday, October 5th, 2008

Centreville, Virginia

Skye was on her eighth wet-nap in about as many minutes. There had been a small convenience store in the same plaza that the bank was in. She had insisted on making herself at least look halfway decent before they went inside. Sam hadn't argued with her given the tiff she and Dean had just gotten into, but he had to admit that he wished she would hurry up. The bank would close for the weekend at half past eleven and they only had ten minutes left.

The plaza was small and U-shaped with an in-ground fountain in the middle. The open side faced the parking lot, and the convenience store was on the U's left point. The bank, meanwhile, was located on the U's right corner. They would have to walk around the fountain to get there. Although they could probably cross the distance in plenty of time, Sam was worried that they might decide to close shop early and they'd be left waiting until Monday to get to the safe deposit box. He was about to ask Skye to wait at the bench they'd stopped at when she gave a dejected sigh and tossed her wet-nap into the trash beside her.

"Think this is as good as I'm gonna get," she said. "Did I miss anywhere on my face?"

"Nah," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Good." She reached up to pull her ponytail apart, letting her short hair fall freely around her face as she fell into step beside Sam. "Still can't believe he made me dig through that."

"Why'd you go along with it?" Sam asked.

"I thought he was being legit," Skye answered. "That there really might be something we needed in the back of that truck. Didn't occur to me that he might be trying to punish me until long after my fingernails started bleeding." She held up her hand to show off cracked nails, chipped polish, and bloody cuticles. "God, is he always like this?"

Sam sighed heavily.

"I want to say no," he said. "But the truth is, I don't know anymore. He's been acting different. I think his time in Hell changed him."

"Into what? An asshole?" Sam scoffed.

"You know, you're not helping on that front." Skye's expression hardened as she looked away.

"Well, I'm difficult," she said. "Always have been, always will be."

"Look, I'm no expert, but can you just try not to be?" The glare she gave him told him that this wasn't the first time she'd heard that request, and the other occasions hadn't ended well. However, he refused to shrink under it. "At the very least, can you stop making like you're going to hit him? Because trust me, getting into a fistfight with Dean is the last thing you want to do." To his surprise, Skye's look faded into one of puzzlement.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. "Do you mean when I'm trying to…? When everything's shaking?" Sam narrowed his eyes on her.

"I don't see anything shaking except your fists." Skye seemed surprised by that.

"Huh," she said. "I was wondering why no one was saying anything." Not knowing what to make of that, Sam shook his head.

"Look, do whatever you need to do to control your anger," he said. "But don't look threatening and don't egg Dean on. Eventually that tension is going to snap and it's not going to end well for either of you."

"What do you want me to do, then? Just sit there and take it?"

By that point they had reached the bank and Sam was relieved to find it wasn't closed. He pulled the glass door open and held it for Skye.

"No," he said to her question. "Absolutely call him out on his shit. He deserves it. Just don't let your temper rise to meet his. That's where the danger comes in." Skye gave a slow nod.

"I understand," she said. "I wasn't really gonna hit him or anything, but… Whatever. I'll try. Even if I'm not entirely sure what that means."

She stepped through the door and as Sam moved to follow her but stopped short and turned to take one last look around the courtyard. His vigilance never took a break. It was ingrained too deeply in him.

Just as he was about to walk away, a dark-colored van pulled up to the edge of the courtyard. Sam frowned as he saw two men in baseball caps and sunglasses get out of the vehicle. If that wasn't suspicious…

"You coming?" Startled, Sam turned to look at Skye, who was holding the second set of glass doors open with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. By the time Sam looked back at the van, the two men had rounded the vehicle and pulled open the side door. From that distance, it looked like they were unloading boxes. Figuring they were just delivery men dropping something off for one of the other businesses in the courtyard, Sam deemed there was nothing to be concerned about and followed Skye inside the bank.

Merrifield, Virginia

In her frustration, Skye had left her backpack on the loveseat as she stormed out the door. Of course, Dean hadn't expected her to do that, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He waited until Sam left before going for it, though, as he knew what he was about to do wouldn't go over well.

Dean waited until he saw Bobby's Chevelle pulling out of the parking lot. At that point, he didn't hesitate. He crossed the room to the bag and unzipped it. Inside, he didn't see anything immediately suspicious – mostly just clothes, a notebook, a pencil case, money, and various receipts and loose papers. However, he didn't want to leave anything to assumption. As he started taking things out of the bag, Bobby finally took notice of what he was doing.

"Oh Jesus Christ, Dean!" he exclaimed. "What in God's name do you think you're doing?"

"I'm just checking on something," Dean said as he tossed a t-shirt and a pair of jeans aside.

"What exactly?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know," Dean said. "Anything incriminating."

"Alright, now you've completely lost it." Dean didn't even try to deny the accusation; just continued to take her clothes out of the bag. "Would you stop doing that? Didn't anyone ever teach you not to rifle through a lady's underwear?"

"I'm not rifling through her underwear." At the same time he said that he pulled a pair of white cotton panties out of the bag. Dean blinked a few times before throwing them across the room. "You didn't see that."

Bobby's only response was to glare at Dean while he ripped the backpack out of the younger hunter's hands.

"Come on, Bobby!" Dean said. "You've got to admit something's not right here."

"Yeah, and it's how you're acting," Bobby said. "You haven't even tried giving that girl a chance."

"What has gotten into you and Sam?" Dean questioned. "Girl tells one crazy story and suddenly you both trust her?"

"We only trust her because you said you believe her," Bobby said. "Has that changed?"

"No," Dean surprised himself with that admission. He believed the story she gave them about the manuscript. Since finding out that Sam was working with Ruby behind his back, Dean had read the entire thing cover to cover. It was hard to deny the work's validity and Skye seemed to be genuine in her insistence that she didn't know anything about it before finding it in her backpack.

Yet, there was something about Skye that kept Dean doubting her. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something she was holding back; one piece of the puzzle that would help things make sense. Until he knew what it was, he just couldn't trust her.

Dean explained as much to Bobby while the older man worked on sorting Skye's clothes back into her bag. When he finished, Bobby let out a weary sigh.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he intoned with frustration. "Personally, I trust her as much as I would any other hunter – about as far as I can throw her. I wouldn't put it past her to leave something out purposefully, but I'm willing to at least give her the benefit of the doubt." Dean frowned.

"What benefit of the doubt?" he questioned as he walked across the room. He figured he should at least bring back the underwear he threw.

"That she's telling the truth and whatever she's leaving out has nothing to do with you." Dean scoffed at the notion. Having picked the underwear up, he turned around to cross the room again.

"When does it ever not have anything to do with us?" he asked. "Always, always crap comes back to bite us in the ass. I'm trying to prevent that; catch her before she stabs us in the back."

"I'm not asking you to blindly trust her," Bobby pointed out. "That'd be asinine but try to look at the situation objectively; think of all the reasons she might possibly have for leaving some things out. At the very least, if you can't do that, just have the god damn decency enough not to go through her crap. Otherwise, she is going to punch you and no one'll feel bad for you when she does."

Dean huffed and threw the underwear into the bag, allowing Bobby to zip it up and put it back where Skye had left it. Before anything else could be said on the matter, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Bobby winced.

"That must be Burns," he said. "For all our sakes, let's hope she focuses on the task at hand."

While Bobby went to greet Burns, Dean sat down on the edge of one of the beds. He tried to do as Bobby said and look at the Skye situation objectively, but he still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling it gave him. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, that uneasy feeling had been hanging around even before he met Skye in the gas station.

Everything had been wrong since he dug himself out of his grave and he just wanted to know why and how to make it stop. If he could make that stop, then maybe he could make all the other weird things that were happening stop. Particularly, he wanted to stop seeing a pair of teary blue eyes staring straight into his soul as Castiel told him he loved him, and goodbye. Because no matter how hard Dean tried to forget that it always seemed to pop right back into his mind, and it never ceased to be excruciating.

Centreville, Virginia

It took so long for the teller to come back with the safe deposit box that it was almost physically painful. For a few good moments there, Sam was worried that the woman hadn't bought his fake FBI credentials at all and had gone into the back to call the real police. However, those fears were assuaged as he heard a pair of clacking shoes coming towards them.

"This is about the missing person's case, right?" the teller asked as she stepped into the lobby with a black metal box. She was a tall woman with dark skin, shiny shoes, and a kind smile. Even though they were supposed to be closing for the weekend, she had been nice enough to offer to get the box for them while her coworkers went about lock-up procedures. It was the least she could do for the FBI, after all.

"His wife tell you about that?" Sam asked.

"His brother," the teller said. "He's inquired several times about the safe deposit box."

"Why?" Skye asked.

"He felt if something had happened to Mr. Sorrow, he would have wanted him to have it," the teller explained.

"Did you let his wife know?" Sam asked, but the teller shook her head.

"I told the cops," she explained. "I figured the cops would tell her."

"And no one else has opened it." Again, the teller shook her head.

"Mrs. Sorrow hasn't accessed the box in all that time," she said. "And unless we get a court order, our policy is to maintain the contents until the lease runs out." A concerned look crossed the woman's face. "Has something happened with the case? Have you found Mr. Sorrow?"

"I can't answer that at this time," Sam avoided deftly. The woman accepted it with an understanding nod.

"I hope he's okay," she said. "Him and his wife are nice, good people."

"So, can we open the box now?" Sam shot Skye a look he normally reserved for Dean. However, unlike his brother, Skye seemed to stiffen underneath somewhat guiltily it. The teller was unaffected by her bluntness and held out the keys for Sam to take.

"It's all yours, Agent." After handing the keys to Sam, she turned and headed into a back office where one of the other tellers had disappeared into earlier. They weren't entirely alone – there was a guard on the other side of the room keeping an eye out for anything suspicious – but it gave them some level of privacy.

Sam slid the key into the lock, and it turned over with a slight click. Flipping the top lid of the box open, they were taken a bit aback by what was inside.

"Oh," Skye gasped in shock.

"Yeah," Sam said. "I think we need to find and talk to his brother."

"Definitely," Skye agreed with a nod, trying not to grimace at the stiff and grayed severed hand clutching a sheet of weathered paper.

Despite the shocking circumstances, Skye hadn't panicked at all. Sam was grateful for that. The last thing they needed was for her to burst out crying and security to come running. He knew he wouldn't be able to explain the severed hand, and he had no idea what to do with it anyway.

He didn't have any kind of plastic bag to wrap it up in – never mind any official evidence bag that a real FBI agent was sure to have with them. He also didn't want to raise alarm, so he had to be surreptitious about it. He glanced to make sure that the guard wasn't looking, then quickly slipped the hand – tattered paper and all – into the inside pocket of his jacket. Skye was clearly surprised by his brazenness but pulled it together quickly. If there was one thing Sam could give Skye, it's that she knew how to play it cool.

The teller came back, and Sam quickly handed over the keys, telling her that they had everything they needed. As the woman picked the box up to return it to its rightful place, she made some comment about it being much lighter than before. Otherwise, no one said anything that indicated suspicion, and Sam and Skye took the opportunity to leave as fast as possible.

Once outside, Sam sat down on the first bench available and took the hand out of his coat. The paper slipped between the fingers surprisingly easy considering – like everything else with this case – both were going to date back to some time during the Civil War. While Sam unraveled the paper, Skye took off her jacket and wrapped the hand inside, easily managing to look inconspicuous.

Unrolling the paper, Sam found that the page was tattered, and the ink was fading somewhat, but the map was still completely legible. It depicted a set of forked pathways, one branching out over a river labeled "Adolf's Stream," the other path ran off the page with a label indicating that it continued on to "Oxbow Manor." An X marked the spot in the center of the map's lower-left quadrant, and the only clue as to the map's makers was a sketch of a Confederate flag unfurling to the left in the right corner with the letters "R.I.C." written underneath it. Sam wanted to slam his face into the concrete.

"Is that a treasure map?" Skye asked as she scooched closer to get a better look. Sam angled it so she could see more easily.

"Looks like it," he said.

"Wow," Skye remarked. "A mummified hand clutching a century's old map… This is like something out of a Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Does this happen to you guys a lot?"

"No, normally it's much weirder than this." Carefully, as not to damage the aged paper, Sam rolled up the map and slid it back inside his inner jacket pocket.

"What do we do now?" Skye asked.

"Take it back to the motel, see what Bobby and Dean think," Sam said as he stood up from the bench and started walking back toward the car. Skye followed closely behind. "We're probably gonna salt and burn all of this, too. Sorrow's desire to protect this must be what's keeping him here."

"Or he could be trying to protect the treasure," she argued. Sam made a dismissive noise.

"I doubt there's any treasure," he said. Skye frowned.

"But there's a treasure map," she said.

"Could be a hoax," Sam said. "Sorrow could've bought it thinking it was something, when really it was just a scam." Skye gave him a pointed look.

"Why would someone sell a fake map clutched in a real severed hand?"

That was indeed a good point. However, before Sam could argue against it, a man in a baseball cap and sunglasses approached them. In his hands he held his own – albeit more modern – map and appeared to be distressed.

"Excuse me, excuse me," the man said as he flagged them down, holding out his map to them. "Do you know where I can find, uh, Kelleher Avenue?"

"Uh, sorry, we're not from the area." Both he and Skye attempted to step away from the man, but he lunged into their path.

"That's okay," he said. "Why don't you let me take a look at your map." A sinking feeling began to settle in Sam's stomach. His face hardened as he regarded the man with narrowed eyes.

"We don't have a map," Sam said. "I don't know what you're talking about." The man gave a humorless laugh. Sam reached to push Skye a bit more behind him and took a defensive step forward. He hoped that if things went south, she'd have a good enough sense to run.

"Bullshit, man," the intimidating figure in front of them said. "Why don't you take a look in that van behind me?"

Sam looked around the man to see the same dark-colored van he'd gotten a bad feeling about earlier. He could see that the sliding door on the side was partially opened; just enough so whoever was hiding in back could poke the barrel of their gun out. Sam couldn't get a clear look at the weapon and as such couldn't discern the exact type was. However, it had to be at least a semi-automatic. It made him wish he hadn't left his Taurus in the car. It wouldn't stand a chance against a machine gun, but at least if he had it, then he'd be armed.

Steadily studying the situation, Sam glanced from the van to the man to Skye standing beside him. Deciding it wasn't worth the risk of her getting hurt, Sam slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the map. The man took the map and slid it in with the map of Virginia he held in his hand. Folding both maps up, the mugger slipped it into his back pocket.

Sam expected the guy to bolt off after getting what he wanted, but he did no such thing. Instead, he held out his hand expectantly.

"Now give me your weapons," he ordered.

"We don't have any weapons," Sam said at the same time Skye pulled out a knife and handed it over to the man. He shot her a look of surprise, but all Skye could do was shrug. "I don't have any weapons," he corrected. The man seemed to take Sam at his word, as he uncaringly tossed Skye's knife into the fountain.

"Back up," The man instructed, stepping into their personal space. With nowhere else to go, Sam and Skye kept walking backwards until their heels hit the edge of the fountain.

"Now what?" Sam asked the mugger, who grinned slightly sadistically.

"Now you get wet."

The mugger rushed forward, slamming his hands right into the center of Sam and Skye's chests. Within seconds they were soaked and breathing in ice-cold water. Sam splashed back to the surface first and scrambled to find the discarded knife. By the time he had it in-hand and made it back to the edge of the fountain, the two muggers had already clamored back inside their van and were peeling out of the parking lot at top speed.

"Damn it!"

Sam's first thought was to call Dean and Bobby, but when he pulled out his cell phone he found the device was water-logged and refusing to turn on. Defeated, he tossed it to the side, not really caring if it landed in the water or not.

"Shit," he said. "I screwed that so bad. Dean's gonna kill me."

"Well, look on the bright side." Sam frowned, looking at the young girl in disbelief.

"What bright side?" Skye gestured up and down her body to her clothes which appeared to have soaked to the bone.

"At least I'm clean again."

Thank you to READINGREADER for the comment and to the guest who left kudos on AO3! I really appreciate it! :)

In case it's unclear for anyone, when Skye's emotional she feels shaking like she's causing an earthquake with her powers. However, to everyone else it just seems like she's so mad she's shaking. To anyone familiar with the repercussions of Skye's powers – particularly what happens when she turns them in on herself – you know that this is not good. No broken bones yet, but I'm sure she's going to start noticing some bruising building up soon.

If anyone's upset about the way Dean's treating Skye right now, just know that she's going to get at least a form of revenge later. It might not be as satisfying as punching him, but I think it's funny and I know for sure Dean's going to hate it. (\_/)

Anyway, be sure to leave a comment or review if you enjoyed this chapter!

Remember kids, at least Skye's clean.

Originally uploaded to FFN on 11/18/2022.