Sam and Rachel scoured the internet for potential warehouses, coming up with a short list of possibilities. When they drove out to them, though, they were dead ends, none of them proving to even have remote possibility of being the place they needed.
They had spent so much time in the car that when Dean parked the Impala in front of Life Water Tabernacle, Rachel was fast asleep, her head against the back window. "Rachel," Sam murmured, gently rubbing her arm. She popped up, scared by Sam's touch. "Sorry," he said, withdrawing his hand when she jumped. "We're here."
"Shit, sorry," she said, blinking heavily. "I didn't realize I fell asleep."
"It's okay."
Sam helped her out of the car, and the three entered the church about five minutes before seven, taking seats in the pew furthest away from the main gathering of people. "Am I the only one really uncomfortable right now?" Rachel asked softly. "I mean, I believe in God, but these kind of churches legitimately scare me." She wasn't joking, but the brothers seemed to think she was.
"You're not alone," Dean replied in kind.
"Just wait until it gets started," Sam added, his foot bouncing as they waited, seated between Rachel and Dean. He hadn't meant to place himself there, but in letting Rachel go first, it naturally happened.
His mind wandered to earlier, to Dean's challenge. It had been so long since he had a relationship of any kind that he was bound to mess something up almost immediately, or so it felt. Dean had gotten used to one or two night stands, but it was never Sam's flavor.
Rachel was young, though-eight years younger than him, to be exact. It wasn't a terrible difference, but enough of one that made him wonder if it was the right thing to pursue. She knew the life, so it made the "what do you do for a living" phase a breeze, but he wasn't sure if it made things any easier as far as worry. Hunter or not, he would be concerned of whoever he was with getting hurt because of what he did.
Hunting was a lonely existence, though. He loved his brother, but it wasn't the same as having a relationship with a woman, both for the obvious and non-obvious reasons. He had tasted it with Jess, and it was amazing. Still, he had lost her because of who he was. It forever weighed on him, the idea of anyone he got close to either leaving or dying. Rachel had so much life to live. He couldn't take that away from her.
He knew Dean wouldn't relent, though. His brother had good intentions, but didn't-couldn't-understand his fear. Dean was able to make flings work for him. Sam knew his brother would love a meaningful relationship as well, but the literal perfect woman would have to drop into his lap with a flashing neon sign and a guarantee for him to consider putting himself on the line emotionally. True, Sam was no better lately at opening himself to the possibility, but at least he had done it before.
And it failed every time.
Sam inhaled deeply, focusing on the video screen that hung at the front of the church. People were filtering in, boisterous conversations filling the space around them.
Two older women passed by their aisle, glancing over at Dean, who flashed them a charming smile. "Evening, ladies," he said with a nod.
"Oh, well aren't you just a handsome thing," one doted, waving a paper fan in front of her face.
"You flatter me," Dean replied, "but the real beauty is right in front of me." Rachel smirked as the older women practically giggled like school girls. "The name's Dean, but feel free to call me whatever you'd like." He winked, then nodded to Sam. "This is Sam, my brother, and our friend, Rachel."
She saw their eyes shift to Sam, who offered a polite smile, markedly less comfortable than Dean. "Good evening," he offered.
"Oh my word," the other with a large beaded necklace said. "Jesus reached down and doubly blessed the two of you, didn't he?"
Rachel spotted the sexiest dimples she ever saw on a man as Sam smiled, he clearly a bit embarrassed. They made her stomach knot.
The fan woman leaned in. "You know, I've got a couple granddaughters around your age."
"Are you telling me I'm too young for you, darling?" Dean grinned.
They laughed again, the one's fan fluttering faster. They waved him off, starting for their seats. "Praise the Lord for his creations. Mm-mm-mm," the one with the fan said as they left.
"Well, you just got a raw deal, Rachel," Dean murmured, leaning back a little to see her past Sam.
"I'm fine with that," Rachel laughed. "I think they got a little tongue-tied over you anyway."
"I have that effect on women. Except you." He eyed her playfully. "Maybe I've got to up my game a bit."
Rachel didn't reply, laughing softly and ducking away from his eyes. Dean was certainly handsome and quite the charmer, but she instantly had been drawn to Sam. Except, Sam didn't seem to vocalize his interest as well as Dean-if he even had any.
Sam leaned to his right, softly whispering in Dean's ear as he kept his focus forward. "You're really going to do this in a church?"
Dean leaned in, whispering back. "I'll keep doing it until you make a move."
"You're unbelievable."
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
Sam sat back up, clearing his throat as the band up front began to play. Everyone rose to their feet except the three of them, the crowd resembling a gospel concert more than a church service.
Rachel tensed as the crowd swelled and grew more and more enthusiastic, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Memories flooded over her, and she tried her best to shove them aside and focus on the case. Still, it was difficult. The service was the same as it had been when she was a teen, the night she let three boys from the youth group drive her home, boys who she once considered friends. Only, they didn't take her home-instead, they drove her out to a remote area not far from the church and each raped her. It was horrific. She was a virgin, only fifteen.
That night was the beginning of when she realized her family never truly loved her. It took her forever to convince her parents she wasn't lying, and when she finally did, her father forced to keep her silence because of his position in church politics. He made her attend service every Sunday until she was seventeen, when she emancipated herself left home. Calling Alex a werewolf sealed the deal-they told her she was no longer welcome in their lives, nor did they consider her their daughter.
Dinner threatened to come up as people started clapping and chanting, and she bolted from the pew to the door, drawing in deep breaths of cool night air outside as she tried to calm her pulse. She didn't hear Sam, who immediately followed after her, and she jumped and turned when he put a gentle hand on her back. "Shit," she shuddered, when she realized it was just him.
"What's wrong?" he asked, searching her eyes.
"I just … I can't be in there."
Rachel quickly turned, moving toward an area with bushes and hurled. Sam moved to her side, holding her hair away from her face as she coughed. He rubbed her back through it and as she straightened, offering a tissue from his pocket for her mouth. "Thanks," she murmured. "I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize," Sam replied, tucking her hair behind her ear as she dabbed her mouth. His hand rubbed small circles into her upper back. "Do you want to talk about it?" She shook her head. "Okay," he assured. "You don't have to."
"You should go back in with Dean," she said, looking away as she felt her tears coming.
"Dean's fine. I'm not going anywhere."
Sam didn't realize it until Rachel leaned into his touch that he was stroking her hair. She kept her back mostly to him, chewing on her lip as she tried not to look pathetic. Sam recalled her saying that these type of churches scared her, but he hadn't realized that she was serious. Whatever association it had, it was not pleasant.
Gently, he turned her to himself, his hand splayed across her upper back. The sounds of the music muffled toward them as it filtered outside, but all he could hear was his own pulse deafening his ears. He hooked her chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting her head to look into her eyes. "Whatever it is," he whispered, "know that I'm right here, and I won't let anything happen to you."
His caring words warmed her, his thumb running over her chin making her chest tighten. Though his face was partially shadowed, she saw the honesty and intensity of his eyes, the truth behind them. "Thank you," she managed, hating how he saw her broken and weak. "I'm okay."
"You're not," he corrected. "And it's nothing to be ashamed of, Rachel. You don't need to prove anything to me or Dean."
She swallowed, searching his eyes with a shiver; she wasn't sure if it was from his touch or the cool air. Immediately, he let her go and stripped off his jacket, adding it over her shoulders. "You'll be cold," she whispered.
"I'm fine," he assured, drawing the front of the coat tighter over her. She nestled into it; his cologne was buried in the fibers, his body heat still clinging to the fabric. Sam combed her hair away from her face, his thumb gliding over her cheek. She shivered, but only from Sam's affectionate touch. He took her hand, holding it with a carefully firm grip. "Come on. Let's get you inside."
The music was still going, but a bit gentler once they got back to the pew. Sam slid into the pew first, guiding Rachel to sit tightly next to him. He put his left arm around her, his right squeezing her hand as he felt her tremble a little. He dipped down, his mouth near her ear. "I'm right here," he reminded her in a whisper. Sam exhaled deeply as Rachel pressed her cheek to his shoulder, drawing his coat around herself.
Sam looked over at Dean, who watched with concern. He nodded his head gently, to which Dean responded in kind, his brows still drawn tight with worry.
He kept his arm around her and her hand in his for the entire service, gently stroking her, reminding her with a whisper in her ear that he was there when he felt her shiver. Rachel stayed within Sam's embrace, never feeling more secure in her life.
Dean took up the bulk of the observation, watching closely to see if there were any shifts in behavior once people started asking for intercession. At the end of the service, he watched people leave, trying to find any signs of possession he could. Still, he didn't see anything, leaving them at yet another dead end.
"I'm going to use the bathroom," Rachel said as they stood, sliding Sam's coat off of her shoulders. The two brothers watched as she rounded the corner and disappeared, Sam shutting his eyes and hanging his head.
"What happened out there?" Dean asked.
"This place brought up some kind of bad memory," Sam replied. "She wouldn't tell me."
Dean nodded, patting Sam's back. "You seemed to help her, though. So. truce, considering the circumstances," he decided; he gave Sam a soft smile. "I never had a shot anyway."
Rachel washed her hands in the bathroom, drying them with a brown paper towel that she crumpled and threw in the garbage. She was eager to get back to Sam and Dean, more than ready to leave and never come back.
She went to grab her phone from her pocket as she left the bathroom, knocking into someone. She looked up quickly, a tall man looking back down at her. He had hair similar to Sam's, and nearly looked like him, but he was just a touch shorter, and maybe a touch smaller. "Sorry," she said, going to move around him. He grabbed her hand, and she froze, her tension melting away. Her brow wrinkled as she looked at him; he smiled down at her.
"I've been trying to find what you like," he said quietly. "I couldn't take the vessel I wanted, unfortunately, because he warded himself, and would never ask to be used anyway. But I think I did well, don't you?" She nodded, not really hearing his question. "Good. Because I'd like to give you what you desire, Rachel." He pet her cheek. "It only works if you're happy. Does this make you happy?"
"Yes," she murmured, her mind blank.
"Excellent." He drew her to himself, his hand running through her hair. "You're different than most of the others, Rachel," he whispered, running his free hand over her waist and across her hip. "You won't just sustain me. You'll also carry my children." He kissed her cheek, a hum in his throat as he felt her body. "Now, where do you want to go with me?"
Rachel's face slammed against the wall, and she automatically pressed her palms against it to keep her balance. She panted, her pulse skyrocketing in shock as she turned, seeing Sam chasing after another man.
"Rachel!" Dean shouted, skidding to a stop in front of her. "You okay?"
She nodded, but she was entirely confused, and it showed on her face. Dean bolted in the direction Sam went, and she tried to steady her breathing, but the panic of not knowing what had happened freaked her out.
A few moments later, Sam and Dean both came back in, rushing to her. Sam's hands went everywhere over her, frantic as he looked for injuries. "Are you hurt?" he asked, checking every visible inch of her. "Rachel," he urged, still searching, "are you hurt?"
"Sam, stop!" Rachel shouted, making him pause. He straightened, his own breath choppy as he looked down at her. Her heart slammed in her chest, a sheen of sweat breaking out over her. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded.
Both of the brothers looked down at her, their own confusion evident on their faces. "You don't remember?" Sam asked. She shook her head. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Rachel wet her lips. "I was drying my hands, and I came out of the bathroom, and I was walking back when I got thrown into the wall."
Sam and Dean exchanged glances, their focus then returning to Rachel. "So you don't remember some random guy feeling you up just a minute ago?" Dean asked.
Rachel's eyes widened. "What?!" She looked to Sam. "No!"
Sam took her by her shoulders. "Are you sure you don't remember a guy touching you?"
"No, I swear," she shuddered. "Sam, what the hell is going on?"
"Arioch," Sam replied, venom on his mouth as he pulled away from Rachel, looking to Dean. "When he touches them, they don't even know it happens."
Dean pressed his lips together. "Shit. I gotta go to the bunker and get the angel blade," he said, running a hand over his face.
"We should take her there, too," Sam suggested. "We can get the blade and sword, and read up on the lure."
Dean nodded. "Alright. We'll stop by the motel and check out before we go."
Sam quickly draped his coat over Rachel as he guided her back to the Impala.
"Sam," Rachel whispered, "please tell me what just happened."
"Arioch was occupying a vessel to try to get you in a long-enough stuper to take you," he replied, his hand tightening around her waist.
"I don't remember a single thing about it." It made chills run through her body.
Sam guided her into the backseat of the Impala, climbing in with her. "You can put our bags on the front seat," he said to Dean, who gave him a nod.
As Dean pulled out of the lot, Sam turned to Rachel, possessively drawing her close to himself. "Rest," he urged quietly, his hand moving over her arm. "We've got a three-hour drive."