Chapter 7

They got out of the car and slowly walked to her front door. It felt like Samantha was walking through a grave yard or something. Her entire body had goose bumps, and she just didn't feel like herself. Sam put his hand on her shoulder.

"It's ok," He whispered. "You don't have to do this."

"Is it that noticeable?"

"Sam, I know you're scared. I do this all the time. You don't. I can do this myself."

"But I have to help. I … I dunno, I just have to."

They both let out a deep breath and continued walking up the pathway to the front steps. Before they had a chance to make it to the porch, a chair flew through the open window and landed in the middle of the road, smashing into pieces.

"I'd say she's mad," Sam said, half calmly.

"I'd say I don't want to stick around to see what else she can do." Samantha turned around and ran for the car. Sam followed her and got in the drivers seat. "Hurry up please!" Samantha said, doing up her seatbelt.

Sam dropped her off at her grandparents' house and then drove back to the hospital. He parked the car and walked through the big doors, putting on some of the hand sanitizer that was available at the entry. He got into the elevator and concentrated on how he was going to kill the spirit. He was clueless. He seriously had no idea how he was supposed to kill it. Unless he killed it by using what she thought she could hide away in? What if he trapped it with other mirrors? Surrounding it with other mirrors so all she could do was look at herself. With no where to go. Would that work? Probably not. The elevator reached his floor and the door made a little ding, before opening.

Sam walked into Dean's room to see him out of bed, unhooked from everything, and getting dressed.

"Dean, what happened?" He asked.

"I'm fine, that's what happened."

"But you were all… Not fine." He was really at a loss for words.

"Not fine?" Dean looked at him weird, and continued. "Anyway, I had some internal bleeding but it stopped on it's own."

"They don't want to keep you here for observation?"

"Guess not."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"You're not just leaving because we don't have enough money for the bill?"

"Ok look. The bleeding did stop, but they do want me to stay for another night."

"Then stay, Dean!"

"No, I'm fine. I just had to sign some thing, saying I'm leaving against the doctor's wishes. And I can go."

"You can't do that! That's why they're making you sign something. So they're not liable if you die!"

"Sammy, I'm fine."

"Stop it with this Sammy crap. Ok? I'm not nine years old anymore!"

"Then you should be grown up enough to understand my situation."

"No, Dean. You should be grown up enough to understand that what you're doing is not safe. Would you please, just stay for one more night?"

"How come you got to leave so early? Huh?"

"Because I didn't have internal bleeding! I didn't have a head injury!"

"Looks like you did, from that bandage on your forehead."

"It's a cut, Dean. I didn't do anything serious. Like you. Or dad."

They both went quiet.

"Look, Sam. I don't want to stay here. Ok? I just want to get on with my life, instead of just lying in a hospital bed waiting to die."

"But you're not going to die. If you stay here, you're not going to die."

"If something happens, I'll come right back."

"But that's the thing," A nurse said, walking into the room. "You won't know that anything is wrong until it's too late. Too many people have died from internal bleeding, because no one knew about it."

"Dean, please stay?" Sam said quietly. "I don't know what I'll do if I lose you."

Dean sighed and sat down on the bed.

"I can't lose you," Sam said quietly. He ran his hands through his hair and walked out of the room.

Samantha couldn't sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about her parents. She tossed and turned, and kicked her covers off, she paced across the room, she had a glass of warm milk. There was nothing that would put her to sleep. It was driving her insane. She picked up the phone and stared at Sam's number on a scrap piece of paper. Should she call him? What would he be able to do, even if she did call him? She was in such a weird place she had no idea what was appropriate, and what wasn't. She let out a deep breath and dialed.

It rang only rang once before he answered. "Hello?"

Samantha panicked and hung up.

Sam stared at his phone. He shrugged and put it back on the night stand beside his bed. He laid down and stared at the motel ceiling for no more than 8 seconds, because his phone rang again. He sat up and answered it. "Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Ya?"

"It's Samantha."

"Hey, what's up?"

"I can't sleep."

Samantha took a sip of her chocolate shake. "Ok. You're favourite hunt."

"My favourite hunt…" Sam didn't know how to answer that one. "I don't know, actually."

"You have a favourite everything else. You have to have a favourite hunt. It's what you do."

He thought for a minute. "You know, I don't think I have a favourite."

"Well do you enjoy doing this?"

"Sometimes."

"So sometimes you have to enjoy it more than other times. When did you enjoy it the most?"

"I don't know if I particularly enjoy it while I'm doing it. But I like the outcome. I like helping people. And when it's all over, and I know that people are safe it makes me feel really good."

"Well my favourite hunt is this one," Samantha said with a smile.

"Of course it is, you've never done any other hunts."

"How do you know? How do you know I'm not the hunt master? And I've been doing this longer than you?"

"I guess I don't." Sam finished his milkshake off and looked at his watch. "Oh man, it's 2:30."

"Wow, we've been here for like three hours."

Sam looked around the empty diner. "I guess we're helping out the night staff."

"Ya," Samantha giggled. "Give them a little something to do."

The waitress walked up to their table. "All finished?"

"Ya, thanks," Sam smiled.

"You can pay at the counter, dear." Sam got up and followed the waitress to the counter so he could pay. Samantha stayed at the table and watched as the waitress totaled up the amount. Watching the waitress, she couldn't help but think of her mother. The way she walked, the way she smiled when she talked. Even the way she tucked her hair behind her ears. Her eyes started to well up with tears, so she wiped them away and pulled out her wallet.

Samantha was waiting at the door when Sam was done paying. He smiled as Samantha opened the door and headed for the car. But his smile stayed a little longer than he thought, when he glanced back over at their table, and saw a few dollar bills and some change sitting on the table.