Making a trip in a serial killer's car was surprisingly reassuring. However, leaving the engine's comfort was in contrast as pleasant as being trapped in a dark little room with an axe murderer. The girl, who had said with a popsicle smirk "Am not going to give my name boys, just call me Cherry" was now not really succeeding in hiding her fear. The death grip she had on the gun borrowed gun made her knuckles go white and gone was her firm expression. Even if it was midday, she was still unnecessarily startled because of the slightest sound, as if she was a little girl afraid of the creaking noises in her house.

Sam stepped closer to her "Thought you'd be accustomed to these kinds of trips."
Cherry sarcastically snorted, which only made Sam's curiosity grow. "You're no hunter, are you?" he asked, making his voice as soft as possible.

She looked up at him, managing the most strained smile "Bull's eye."
Their pace was growing slower; they were lagging way behind Dean who had already managed to cross the bridge.

"How come you know about all this stuff then?"

"My dad taught me a few things…" Cherry responded breaking eye contact.

"A hunter?"

She had to suppress the chuckle, if only they knew... on the other hand, yes, he was, but then again, if they knew what she shared her blood with... "You could say he is."

Sam opened his mouth but the words would never roll off his tongue: an almighty force flung him into the metal railing of the bridge, knocking all air from his lungs; black dots erupting in his vision. Cold, abnormally thin fingers pressed against his temples. He wanted to scream, lash out and force the creature to let go, but the fingers seemed to drain every fiber of energy, leaving only numbness, cold, freezing cold, penetrating to what felt like the core of his bones. He heard something, but it was like the sound was stifled by a cotton wall, although even like this the pure distress it carried registered in Sam's mind. He had to help, he had to stay awake, but that was a task as easy as holding water in cupped hands, inevitably it seeped through his fingers.

Cherry stood there frozen in fear as she saw the monster get up, flicker, and reappear crouched besides Sam. It brutally grabbed his head with unnaturally long, nearly blue tinted fingers and she could do nothing but scream, her vocal cords the only thing that she managed to move. It was a scream holding no anger or determination like a soldier's scream would, it was a scream of a girl faced for the first time with the supernatural. It was a scream only fueled by raw piercing fear so bloodcurdling it made the monster turn. It was facing her now.

Her former slack grip on the rock salt-loaded gun was nearly convulsive as she aimed the shimmering figure, trying hard to focus on the paternal voice giving instructions in her head. This was ridiculous, she always had thought she would be better than this, for God's sake she was a –

The gunshot ringing in her ears wasn't hers. Dean ran with gun still smoking, towards his alarmingly pale brother lying limp on the concrete ground and crashed besides him.

"Sam! Wake up!" he growled, ineffectively rousing him. The older brother feverishly checked for a pulse, finding a strong and steady beat, a fraction of the tension in his shoulders left. "Damn it Sammy! Wake up!"
But he didn't, making Dean repeat his order with fear gradually creeping into his tone, movements becoming clipped, eyes becoming wide, because even after what Sam had done he was still his brother, he still nee—

"Dean." A shaky voice interrupted from behind. His head snapped towards the sound, finally acknowledging Cherry's presence. She was nearly as pale as Sam, shaking ever so slightly. "It isn't dead. We-" she took a deep steadying breath "We should go."

Dean's eyes lingered for several minutes on his comatose brother "Help me put him in the car."

Surprisingly, the thing didn't come back the three stumbled their way to the Impala, which was disturbing, but at this state more than welcomed blessing. Despite the increasing shaking of her limbs, Cherry managed to put Sam into a not-so-awkward position and hurriedly took place besides him, slamming the door shut with too much force as Dean started the engine.

He drove off as fast as he could, occasionally stealing glances towards his little brother. It seemed every time he looked Cherry was checking on Sam, constantly looking for a sign of pulse or steady breathing. Why did she care so much? She barely knew the kid.

But a different thought came up to him, and that was the one which slipped past his lips. "Why didn't you shoot it?"

Cherry's dark green eyes met his light ones in the mirror and she replied with a flat "I was scared."

What the hell.

"I'm sorry," she then added quietly.

"You're not a hunter." It wasn't a question it was a statement waiting confirmation. He could see through her, her face was not yet hardened by pain and fear, it as an open book screaming to be read.

"No."

"But ho-"

Sam jolted up with a sharp gasp, startling the other two and making Dean nearly drive them into the wayside. "Sam?" Dean asked once he had straightened the course of the car again. "Sammy you're with us?" The concerned mind snapped to reality again.

"Y-yeah, I'm here." He put a hand to his head; it was pounding like crazy, as if someone had insisted on banging it on a wall for the whole past hour. Which was actually not as far from reality than he thought.

"You're okay?" Cherry asked before Dean had had the time. Stupid question anyways, Sam had been thrown in a massive iron railing, probably must have hurt like hell considering even stubbing your little toe on the side of a table already was pure agony, and then… well, whatever that creature had done to him happened. So what did she expect but a lie in response?

"I'm fine," came the reply.

"Like it or not, I'm gonna take a look at that thick skull of yours and we're not investigating further t'il I do," Dean said in a voice at least one octave lower than normal.

"Dean, I'm fine. Besides, Cherry still has to show us people who could help, and honestly, if I can prevent anyone from having a special swimming lesson a little headache is no bother. At all." It was said with calm yet it was intransigent, leaving no doubt in what should be the course of action. Except maybe that Sam's hands were twitching, but you couldn't really expect Dean to notice Sam's hands in the limited vision field of the car mirror.

Dean knew it, Sam would not change his mind, and they could better use the time spent on trying to convince Sam of resting to do research on whatever ghost had attacked Sammy and the other more… permanent… victims. "Where to?" he finally asked in a huff.

"The main street, left, about the sixth house on the right." Cherry stated activating her phone's flashlight. "Sit still for a sec." was the only warning. She directed the light directly in Sam's eyes before he could flinch away.

"What the-"

"No concussion." Cherry cut in leaving Sam vaguely angrily muttering and rubbing his eyes.

Dean grinned "No concussion."

oOo

She couldn't say the interrogation was a fiasco or that it hadn't gone smoothly… but it hadn't. Mrs. Wilkins hadn't been exactly cool about discovering federal agents at her doorstep. After Cherry gently explained to the hyperventilating lady that these gentlemen were two nice cops who were just here to ask some questions about her husband's death, and not people come to arrest her, she had silently obliged to the demand of letting in. She hadn't even thought of the fact that it was highly unnatural that two agents would be accompanied by such a dubious individual as Cherry, but could you blame the woman?

She finally told her tale… and broke in the middle of it, using Dean as a giant teddy bear, squeezing him half to death. Even if the scene was supposed to be heart-wrenching, Dean's fish on land face lightened Cherry's mood considerably, even making her mask a chuckle with reassuring words.

Broadly speaking, the interrogation hadn't brought anything new under the sun. It was more a confirmation of what had been in the police records, nothing more, nothing less. Same for all the other interviews.

Hurray.

One fact specifically worth noting though: Sam. Not his giant moose size or the fact that his self-esteem was as low as Mount Everest was high; those were standards of Sam's physiognomy and personality. It was more the way his eyes were darting at everything with the slightest movement, more than regularly looking back, body tensed as if ready to run for his dear life.

Cherry had tried to ignore it, really. Dean had attempted to pass it as normal. Sam also struggled to stop his slightly erratic behavior clinging onto the "it's not real".

Nice try but no.

Cherry was the first to break the silence, not having the same capacity as the Winchesters to bury all discomfort. She didn't really know if it was a blessing or not. "Sam ?" His concerned face snapped in her direction "What's the matter?"

Another wave of detox, isn't it Sammy ? Dean thought bitterly. What are you gonna tell her to not scare the crap out of her? Sam opened his mouth to speak only to close it instantly. Better come up with something quick now Sam.

"Sam?" She was getting scared now.

"I-I'm fine." Very convincing little stutter Sammy "Just, uhm, I think, I'm… I'm gonna head back to the motel. Need a naptime 'cause of the thing from earlier after all." He finished half chuckling.

"Walking?" Cherry asked, very skeptical on the question of if he would make it alive until there.

Dean gave out a sigh "No, I'm driving him 'till there."

She had never seen Sam as resign full looking, head casted down, shoulder slumped, nearly trying to make himself look small despite it being impossible for obvious reasons.

"We still have one person to go to." Cherry quickly interjected "She has refused to talk to me last time, but I know she might be the most useful source we have."

"Why doesn—" Sam tried but Cherry instantly snapped.

"People don't like me at this very moment."

"Listen," Dean cut in "The kid is barely standing on his feet, and that woman of yours can wait 'til tomorrow."

"She sure can, but we can't." Dean raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt. "Those drownings are pretty regular, aren't they?" She paused, but here again no protests "Approximately every month there is one actually. And surprise! Bath time is scheduled for the next few days. But of course, since you've read the police reports you already knew that."

Dean looked at his brother trembling quasi-imperceptibly in the backseat, crossing gaze for just one moment. He looked so vulnerable. He had his twelve-years-old gaze, as if they were again waiting for their dad to come home as Sam made those damned pleading eyes to have the last bowl of Lucky Charms… like the old times… like the times before all this crap with angels, demons, the apocalypse, demon blood, Ruby… Ruby that slutty son of a bitch. Oh, how Dean had liked seeing life drain out of those pretty chestnut eyes, the little cry of pain when he had twisted the blade in her abdomen, the fact that he had deprived her of her most yearning desire…

"You go interrogate the lady." Sam said snapping Dean out of his reverie despite the low volume of his voice. "I will be fine on my own."

Dean retorted with no emotion "I can't leave you on your own Sam."

It hit Sam hard; I just don't think I can trust you. He remained silent, what could he possibly say to that?

"If the woman sees me, she won't even open the door for us." Cherry said out of the blue. "But I can… well… look after Sam while you're gone."

Dean's face hardened even more "No."

Cherry knew she was on dangerous ground and might agitate Dean more, but there was nothing else to try. "Listen. We have no time to waste, Mr. Scary guy is going to invite someone to his pool party and that woman is the only lead we have," Dean tried to angrily cut her off but Cherry talked over him "Look, everyone knows what caused the apocalypse, words travels fast. It's also known how Sam did it. I promise you I know the side effects and can handle any of them." She let the statement settle in. "I don't want any unnecessary deaths that's all."

"You have no idea..." Dean begun in a low, growling tone.

"I DO!" Cherry suddenly shouted giving Sam and Dean a heart attack.

Wait what?

She inhaled deeply "I. Do." Letting out a bitter laugh she added, "You'll have to take my word on it for this one."

The car stopped, the motel was now just a few steps away.

"I'll take your silence as an agreement," she said stepping out and forced Sam to do the same "Good luck."

"If I counted on that I would be long dead already." With that statement, Dean started the engine and drove off.

oOo

During the past hours there had been no sudden weakness, no talking to hallucinations, no seizures, no Sams thrown against the walls. This was good… but not what was supposed to happen. Saying Sam was alright was a severe overstatement; he was still trembling as if he was in Siberia wearing summer clothing, and. His. Eyes. Wouldn't. Stop. Moving. Cherry's guess was confirmed: this attitude was definitely not due to demon blood.

She carefully walked to Sam making sure she always was in his vision field. The scrapping of wood against wood she made as she sat across forced Sam's gaze to immediately lock onto hers. "Let me help."

Sam huffed, it almost looked like he had tried to stifle a laugh, which was contradicting every shaky movement he made "It's in my head, you can't do anything about that." Cherry smiled sadly as she deflected her gaze, letting Sam return to wearily looking around him.

Ironically she could. She could help him. He even could have guessed this if at this precise moment he remembered the other day at the coffee shop, the gold strings-like reflection in her eyes. Those were definitely not caused by a crappy weird neon light.