Chrys's head was pounding, and if Dean gave her that concerned look one more goddamn time, she was going to punch him in his stupid face.
He glanced over at her. "How you-"
"Shut the fuck up, Dean," she growled, pressing on her forehead. "Let's just find Sam."
He glared at her. "Fine," he snapped. "We'll go get the stuff from the room and then we'll go find him."
She nodded, trying to breathe through the pain. Where the fuck is that idiot?
They had come to work a case for one of the guys' childhood babysitters. They had gone to eat, done some research, and then Sam had essentially disappeared.
Dean had to help her out of the car because her legs were starting to give out. Which made her more irritable, but she bit back her sharp remark. He was just trying to help, and she really did need his gentle, guiding hands to stand. He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to the door.
When they got into the room, Sam was standing there. And everything was wrong. His facial expression, the look in his eyes when he looked at her. The biggest giveaway was the way he held himself. Chrys was pretty damn familiar with the way Sam held that rather ridiculous body when he was around her, and this wasn't it.
That's not Sam.
Dean was glaring at him. "Sam. Where the hell you been, man? I've been trying to call you for hours. Chrys is in some serious pain."
The man wearing Sam's face frowned. "Chrys?"
"That's not Sam," Chrys said weakly. She grabbed Dean's hand. "That's not him. That's someone wearing him."
"What?!" The man wearing Sam's face said loudly. "That's crazy!"
Dean ignored him to study her. "What?"
"Dean, that's not Sam. He's different, and my head still fucking hurts."
Dean looked at her closely for another moment, then nodded and pulled his gun out, keeping his arm around her. He held it to the man wearing Sam's face. "Who the fuck are you, and where the fuck is Sam?"
The man held his hands up, which just confirmed Chrys's suspicion. Sam would have laughed in Dean's face if he pulled a gun on him. "Hey, man, come on, I'm definitely your Sammy."
Dean's face hardened dangerously, because Sam would never call himself Sammy. "If you think I won't shoot you, you're wrong."
The man looked at Chrys desperately. "Talk some sense into him! I'm me!"
Chrys looked at him dispassionately. "Shoot him."
Dean nodded, then pointed the gun down and shot the man wearing Sam's face in the leg.
He cried out and went down, and Chrys's anger suddenly swept her pain back a little. She straightened her back and strode forward to step on the bullet wound. "Buddy, buddy, you're gonna want to listen very closely to this."
He was still screaming, so she rolled her eyes and backhanded him. "Hey!" she shouted, snapping her fingers in his face. She smiled kindly when he finally looked at her. "Listen to me, bud. I want Sam back. You're going to tell me exactly where he is, how you did this, and how to reverse it, or I am going to make you hurt so much more than that bullet wound. Understood?"
His eyes widened, and then a mulish look crossed his face. "Fuck you."
She nodded. "All righty, then." She turned to Dean. "Keep him here. Shoot him again if you need to."
She walked into the bathroom and opened the cabinet. There was a small bottle of bleach, which she assumed was for the cleaners. She grabbed it and walked out into the living room again. The man's eyes widened when he saw her set it down on the table.
She walked over to Sam's bag and pulled out a wicked looking knife, and smiled fondly at it, then pulled out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. She turned back and smiled at the man. "You know, Sam and I are together," she said mildly as she walked back over to him, snagging the bleach on the way. "And Sam, you know, Sam has done some fucking up." She smiled again and waved the knife at him. "So this is going to be borderline cathartic for me."
The man's face became panicked, and Chrys had a sudden yearning for Sam, who would have laughed in her face, had she threatened to torture him. The pounding in her head came back with a vengeance.
"Okay, okay, okay!"
"Sam!"
Sam spun, irritated, a little scared, and very worried about Chrys. Stupid fucking kid.
When he saw Chrys and his brother, dragging someone wearing his body, relief swamped him. "Guys!" He frowned at Chrys, who was pale and wincing. "Chrys, are you all right?"
She smiled. "Yeah, Sammy, better now."
Dean nodded and Gary. "All right, kiddo, you ready to reverse this spell? So I don't have to turn this crazy bitch on you?" Chrys smacked him on the arm.
Gary snorted, and Sam frowned again. Is that what I look like when I do that? "Please," Gary was saying, "she can barely walk."
Chrys growled and turned to face Gary. "Feeling much better now that Sam's here, Gary," she said softly. "So you want to watch your mouth, hear me? I am itching to shoot you again."
"Again?" Sam asked, irritated all over again.
"Shut up, Sam."
They sat in Gary's bedroom, the ingredients for the spell laid out before them. Sam was watching Chrys, who was pointing a gun at his body in a very cavalier manner that made him nervous. "Chrys, you wanna cool it with that gun?"
She didn't even look at him. "Nope, I'm good." She nodded at Gary. "We ready?"
He looked back at her evenly. "I guess." There was a beat of silence, then, "So, I don't suppose you-"
"Gary," Chrys interrupted, "If the next word out of your mouth isn't the beginning of a spell, I will shoot you again, I swear to fuck."
He blanched, then looked forward. "Animae domum redeant. Fas atque nefas instauretur. Potestate et auctoritate, sic fiat." He tossed the powder in his hand into the bowl in the center of the room. A bright light flashed, and when Sam opened his eyes, he was looking at Gary, in his own skinny nerd body.
Before Sam could celebrate, pain shot through him, and he winced. "Fucking ouch." He looked at Chrys and Dean. "Which one of you shot me?"
"I did," Chrys said easily, shrugging. "He wouldn't tell me where you were."
Dean frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Gary did. "But-"
Chrys shut him up with a glare. "Gary, would you like to kindly shut the fuck up now? Since, you know, I'm still pissed, and you're still the one I'm pissed at, and I still have a gun?"
Sam frowned. "Well, next time, maybe don't put a bullet in me, Chrys."
She rolled her eyes, but he saw the flash of emotion in them before she did. "Well, maybe next time don't get got by a goddamn teenager, Sam."
Sam sighed and stood up, almost falling when he did so. Dean caught and steadied him. "Easy there, bud."
Chrys nodded toward the door. "Head on out, guys. Let me talk to Gary for a sec."
They walked out, but Sam stopped them before they left earshot. Instead, he just made sure they were hidden, so he could eavesdrop.
"Gary, listen, I get why you'd want Sam's life," Chrys said softly.
Gary snorted. "Please, like you understand anything."
"Okay, dude, I still have a gun. Why do you want to get shot? Did you like it the first time?" Sam grinned, because that was the most Chrys thing she'd said since they'd found each other again, so she must be feeling better, and heard her take a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say, Gary, is that I get it. But you're not seeing what's in front of you."
"And what, exactly, is that?"
"Gary, in a year or two, you're going to go to college. You're going to get to lead a normal, happy life. And if you don't like what your parents have planned for you, tell them to go fuck themselves! Rebel, in a normal, non-witchcrafty way. Don't throw away your chance at a life, Gary. Some of us would kill to have it."
The kid sounded considerably less irritated. "Really?"
Chrys's voice sounded closer. "Really."
Not wanting to get shot again, Sam shoved at Dean to get him down the hallway before she caught them there.
After Dean patched Sam up, he went outside to find Chrys smoking against the wall. Dean watched her for a second, and realized how hard the last two weeks had been on her. She seemed like she was losing weight, although he wasn't sure how that was possible. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the place where her mother had bit her was still bruised and livid.
He walked over and leaned next to her. "How you holdin' up, Summers?"
"Cram it, Dean."
He grinned. "You're fine." He let a moment of silence pass, then, "Seriously. You okay?"
She looked at him, then nodded. "Yeah."
Another moment of silence, then, "Hey, you weren't gonna use bleach on that kid, were you?"
She laughed softly. "No, although if he had made me I would have. Sometimes, someone's imagination is worse than anything I could do to them."
He nodded, then asked what had been bouncing around in his mind. "Why did you tell Sam you're the one who shot him?"
She rolled her eyes. "Because I gave you the go ahead, and if it had been in my hand, I would have pulled the trigger, too. And…" She sighed. "And, quite frankly, you guys have enough to be mad at each other for. He can be mad at me, but you guys need to stay on the same team.
Dean frowned. "What about you?"
She smiled sadly. "Sometimes, being a team player means giving the team someone to be mad at."
That night, Sam was lying on his back, which was the position in which his leg hurt the least, and waiting for Chrys to give in and come lay in the bed.
She hadn't made a big deal out of it, but she'd made her bed on the couch. Dean hadn't mentioned it, either, just gave Sam a look to follow his lead and shut up, too. So Sam had, and was now just waiting for her to break.
But it had been a couple of hours, and she didn't seem like she was any closer to coming to bed. "Chrys," he said softly.
"Sammy, if you order me to come get into that bed, I will shoot that leg again."
He grinned. "Come on, Chrys, please? I can't sleep without you."
"Ugh, corny," she complained, but she sighed and got up off of the couch and came to sit on the bed next to him, wrapped in her blanket. "Better?"
He looked up at her. "Come lay down?"
She shook her head. "No, but I'll sit here for a while."
She carefully sat next to him, leaned up against the headboard. Her fingers started running through his hair, and he felt something hard in him relax. "How you holdin' up, Sammy?" she asked softly.
He leaned into her hand, and brought his own hand to rest on her knee. "Like I got shot in the fucking leg."
She laughed softly. "Well, yeah, that makes sense."
There was silence for a long time, then, "Sorry about the bullet, Sammy."
He looked up at her. "Did you just apologize to me?"
She smirked. "Don't let it go to your head, handsome. I try to apologize when I shoot people I like."
He pressed his face into her hip. "Careful, beautiful, I think you just admitted to liking me."
She smiled and leaned her head back. "You're all right, I guess."
Sam drifted to sleep with a smile on his face.
The next morning, Dean had left to get breakfast, and Chrys was redressing Sam's wound.
He was sitting on the bed, and she was being as gentle as possible, but he was being kind of a pussy about the whole thing. "Done," she said cheerfully, patting his other leg as she leaned back. "You're done."
"Jesus, could you be a little rougher, Chrys?"
She rolled her eyes and let her hands rest on his knees. "You'll be all, tough guy," she said with a smile. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his uninjured thigh. "You're gonna make it."
When she looked up at him, he had stilled, and his eyes had darkened. She felt her own breath hitch a little, and she slid her hand back up his thigh.
"Chrys," he husked, shuddering as she went higher and higher up his leg.
"Tell me what you want, Sam," she said softly, feeling her entire being tighten at the thought of him. Her hand moved up to rest on his hip, just barely avoiding the growing bulge in his boxers.
He groaned and gripped the back of her neck to pull her close. He dominated their kiss, and she let him, whimpering into his mouth. She palmed him through the thin fabric of his boxers, gasping into him when she felt the huge, hard length of him, already waiting for her.
She kissed her way from his mouth, down his jaw, and back up to his ear again. "Say it, baby," she whimpered, "Tell me what you want."
He groaned and leaned back enough to look her in the eye. She tried to tell him with her gaze that it was all right, and he seemed to get the message, because his voice dropped and his eyes darkened. "Suck my cock, Chrys."
She closed her eyes and shivered, then started to kiss and nip her way down his neck to his chest. When she was there, she ran her tongue lightly across his nipples, smiling at the soft noises he made at the back of his throat. She continued her way down his flat stomach, highlighting all of those beautiful muscles with her tongue. She put a hand on his chest and shoved him lightly so he was laying on his back.
She pressed a light kiss to the underside of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers when she got there, relishing the powerful feeling his reaction gave her. She freed him from the garment, taking another moment to appreciate how beautiful Sam really was. Then she hollowed her cheeks and took just the tip of him into her mouth.
She sucked hard and swirled her tongue around it, waiting for Sam to catch up.
He did a moment later. His hand came to rest on the back of her head, threading through her hair. He set a steady, fast pace, moving her up and down his length. She relished the hard, heavy feeling of him in her mouth.
She sucked hard, taking him down into her throat until her lips made contact with his pelvis. He grunted and held her there for just a second, then pulled her back up to the tip to start over there.
The twitches upwards in his hips, his shallow breathing, and the way his fingers tightened in her hair told her he was close. She sucked harder and moaned low in her throat, smiling when he jerked again into her mouth. "Fuck, Chrys, I'm-"
He thrust into her again, holding her head down and coming hard. She swallowed leisurely, memorizing the feel of him pumping into her mouth, licking and sucking him clean.
Once he was spent, she pulled away and smiled. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He turned and caught her lips with his, and she felt a surge of arousal in her belly. She tamped it down and pulled away from him to stand. "All right, put your pants on and let's go."
He frowned and caught her hands. "What about you?"
She thought of all the ways he'd helped her in the past several days, from being kind to her mother, holding her the night she'd gotten back from Lucifer, and the way he'd told her she was a good person like he actually believed it. She wasn't a very selfless woman, and the heavy feeling in her nether regions was insistent.
But it was Sam, and he had been good to her.
Plus, you know, you fucking shot him.
So she smiled and kissed him again. "Pay me back later, Sammy, I think that's the Impala I hear."
**Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.
