The four arrived at Vance's contact's workplace, a small diner outside of Topeka, three hours later. Much to Sam's annoyance, Vance managed to occupy the seat next to Rachel, so he purposely took the one across from her.

"Hey, Vance," the small waiter said nervously as he approached. "I only see you when you want something."

Sam muttered under his breath, "Huh. Seems like he has a pattern." Rachel didn't miss it; she eyed him.

"Gavin," Vance said with a smile. "Just want to see what the word is on the street." He smiled at Rachel. "But let's order first." He nodded to her to begin.

"I'll just have water," she murmured.

"Gentlemen?" Vance asked.

"Whatever's on tap," Dean said.

"Water, please," Sam replied.

"And I'll take an iced tea," Vance finished, watching as Gavin went off to get their drinks. "Gavin is a nephilim," Vance explained softly. "Bit of an outcast, but he still gets the updates on the latest."

"Why is he an outcast?" Sam asked.

"He isn't a true supporter of the nephilim domination efforts that rose from when the angels fell. Call him old fashioned, but he just wants a normal life, if you will." Vance adjusted in his seat; Sam didn't miss how he shifted closer to Rachel. "Like any informant, he plays the fence."

Sam focused on Vance, doing his best to remain neutral. "What does he get in exchange for his intel?"

"A little cash here and there, a favor to be cashed in on."

Gavin returned to the table with their drinks, placing them down in front of each person. "So, what are you looking to know?" he asked softly.

"What's the buzz on Arioch?" Vance asked, sipping his iced tea.

Gavin's brow shot up. "Arioch?"

"Yeah. The Watcher."

Sam and Dean watched Gavin give a small shrug. "It's F&B time, so he's been doing his thing."

"Feeding and breeding," Rachel concluded, bitterness evident in her tone.

Gavin nodded. "Yeah. We try to stay out of his hair when he's busy, you know?"

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed. "Sure."

"What about where he is, or where he likes to frequent?" Dean asked.

"He usually picks off women people won't miss," Gavin shrugged. "Those with little family or those in small towns with no ties. It helps to keep him off the radar."

Sam saw the look in Rachel's eyes; he boldly reached over and laid his hand over hers that was fiddling with her utensil bundle, feeling her calm under his touch. He focused on her, pressing smooth strokes into her skin, catching her eyes as she looked up and tried to offer him a smile of thanks.

"And where does he do this at?" Dean continued.

"He doesn't really disclose that," Gavin replied, taking out his pad and pen. "But, you might want to try the local strip clubs and downtown bars. He's taken ones from there before."

"Tell us more about James Gray," Sam said, keeping his hand on Rachel's. He was completely unconcerned with Vance, focused on information and comforting her.

"He worked with Arioch before, until he was committed," Gavin said.

"What did he do with him?"

"He … He scouted for him."

"He helped pick women," Vance concluded. Gavin nodded.

"He said he was just a messenger," Dean corrected.

"That's what he always called himself," Gavin explained. "He would never take credit for any of Arioch's choices, but he helped to vet them. James was really devoted to Arioch's work."

"Then what happened?" Sam asked. "Did they have a falling out?"

"Look," Gavin murmured, glancing over his shoulder, "I have to look like I'm working. So, give me some orders and I'll come back in a bit."

Reluctantly, the group ordered, Dean watching as Gavin left. "Did you see the sweat on that kid?" he murmured, still looking in the direction of his departure.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"He did sound a bit panicked," Rachel agreed.

Dean stood. "I'll use the restroom. See if I can see anything."

Sam watched as Dean left, keeping his hand over Rachel's. "What he said," he began softly to Rachel, unconcerned about Vance's presence, "it was sick. I'm sorry."

Rachel nodded. "Thanks." She watched their hands as Sam intertwined his fingers through hers, feeling Vance's glare and catching a hint of it out of the corner of her eyes. The heat of his skin was more than comforting, his tender touch just what she needed. She knew Sam was going to fight to win her back, but she wasn't expecting herself to let him gain the lead so easily. Still, they just fit together. It made sense. Vance was a great guy, but she didn't have the same spark with him as she did with Sam. It was hard, though, to be seated between two men who clearly loathed each other and were after the same thing, especially when she cared for both. She didn't want to hurt either one of them.

Dean came back to the table, sitting with a sigh. "Didn't see him. I'm guessing he's in the kitchen."

Only, when their food came minutes later in the hands of a new waiter, they got their answer. Sam reluctantly withdrew his hand from Rachel's, making room for their lunches. "What happened to Gavin?" Vance asked politely.

"He had to leave early," the waiter said, leaving the table after confirming everything was okay.

"Son of a bitch," Vance growled when the waiter left.

"So, he ghosted," Dean said, rubbing his eyes.

"We can at least start with the leads he did give us."

"How do we know he's not setting us up?" Sam countered. "If he checked out on us, he's got to be afraid of something."

"He's right," Dean agreed, biting into his burger. "There's a reason he skipped out."

"Or, he gave us good info and got scared, panicked, and left," Vance said.

"There's only one way to find out," Rachel said, pushing the salad around in her plate as she met Sam and Dean's eyes. "We go bar hopping tonight in Lincoln."

Vance smirked at her. "You planning on hustling people at darts?" he teased.

Rachel smiled softly. "Maybe. Cash is running low."

"We could always divide and conquer," Vance suggested, looking up at Dean first. "You two could take the strip clubs, and Rach and I could go to bars." He looked over at Sam, keeping his smirk hidden, though his eyes gave it away.

"No deal," Sam replied, holding his gaze. He gave him a firm stare, one lacking cockiness or challenge. He didn't need it-she was with him, and that's just how it would be. "She's not leaving my sight."

"I think I can handle watching her."

Sam smiled coolly. "Like I said, she's with me. Feel free to join us, or to load up on singles."

Dean chewed his burger, keeping an eye on the territory fight. "It's gotta be two and two," he said. "We each need backup."

Vance held Sam's gaze, seeing him unwilling to relent. "Strip clubs it is," he finally said, looking back to his food.

Rachel swallowed. Vance must have been intimidated, because he wasn't one to relent-especially not to someone like Sam Winchester, who he thought was a selfish jerk. She half expected a fist fight to break out, grateful one didn't. Even if Sam was hungover, which she didn't fail to notice, he would easily take down Vance, though Vance would try like hell to win.

The rest of the meal was awkward, no one hardly speaking. Despite the earlier battle for territory, Vance paid for their meals, Sam being extra careful to remain polite. He knew Vance was more than pissed that he wasn't spending the night with Rachel, and that he didn't get to sit in the back seat with her on their way to Lincoln. As much as he wanted to, he didn't want to rub salt in the wound. He would be better than that.

Sam kept his hand over Rachel's for the entire three hours, their silent connection nourishing him more than he knew he needed. He was determined to prove to her by the end of the night that he trusted her and supported her.

Dean dropped him and Rachel off at the downtown strip, the main section of the city dotted with bars of all varieties. Sam could practically feel Vance's glare as he passed him, his hand finding Rachel's lower back and guiding her as they walked down the sidewalk together. They focused on visiting the least appealing bars, hoping what Gavin said about Arioch's habits were true. Sam was grateful he brought his gun, since Rachel hadn't. Not that it would do much to stop Arioch, but the security of it felt comforting.

Sam held the door for Rachel, his guard up as he examined the dingy space. She was practically a piece of filet minon in a sea of brisket, her naturally youthful face turning more than a few heads. His pulse quickened; he kept her close to his side as he found space for them at the far end of the bar.

She must have noticed his tension, offering him a smile as she leaned into him. "Relax. I'm not a delicate flower."

"You're literally likely the best thing that's ever walked into this place," Sam replied. "Basically a T-bone steak in a pack a dogs." Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm serious!" Sam insisted with a grin. "Just take a look around if you don't believe me."

Rachel glanced around, seeing a lot of guys watching her. "Okay, now I feel weird."

"You should," Sam teased. "It's all your fault for being so beautiful."

She laughed, shaking her head as the bartender came up to them. "What can I get you?" he asked. Sam looked to Rachel.

"Heineken, please," Rachel said.

"Make it two," Sam said after, watching the bartender walk away to retrieve their beers, returning a moment later. Sam slid him the cash plus tip, holding up his bottle to Rachel. "To me proving to you that I'm more than a control freak asshole," he smirked, seeing her grin.

"And to me easing up on you and letting you protect me," she added.

They clinked their bottles together, each tipping back a hearty pull of beer. Rachel sighed, looking at the bottle. "To be honest, I'm not sure how much I should drink tonight," she laughed. "I only had two beers at the motel and conked out."

"I won't complain if you fall asleep on me," Sam said, his dimples showing as he matched her smile.

"Are you trying to get me back into your bed?"

"Is it working?"

She kept her smile, looking away. "Too early to tell," she murmured, feeling his intent gaze.

Sam took another long drink with a smirk. "Then I'll ask you again later." He nodded to the dart board. "Vance said you hustle people at darts?"

Rachel shrugged. "I might."

"So, show me what you've got."

She looked at him. "Are you challenging me?"

"I am." He stood, moving to the dart board and taking out a twenty dollar bill. "You in?"

She was dumbfounded, but she followed and took out her own cash, setting it down on the table next to where they stood. "Let's see what you've got."

"Three rounds, five-oh-one?"

"Sure."

Sam took three darts, standing on the throw line, eyeing the circular board. "What else are we playing for?"

"Besides cash?"

"Yeah." He looked at her.

"Well, if I win, then you need to streak naked through the entire bunker wearing only Dean's cowboy hat. With Castiel there."

Sam laughed heartily, giving her a small nod. "Alright." He paused, looking her over. "If I win, you need to let me give you an orgasm in the back of the Impala while Dean is driving."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "No way!"

"Oh yeah," Sam grinned, wetting his lips. "And you'll have to be discreet, because Dean will definitely kill us if he knew." He chuckled silently as he saw her shocked expression. "So, deal?" He moved in closer, taking a drink. "How good at darts are you?"

Rachel's face was on fire. She swallowed, her heart racing. He was dead serious. "Fine. Deal," she said confidently, although she felt far from it.

Sam handed her the darts. "Ladies first." He grinned, his eyes skimming down to take in her backside as she moved into position. She was focused, her stance showing her practiced skill. She threw one hundred and fifty five points in the first round. "Nicely done," Sam said, removing her darts.

"Thank you," she smirked, unable to help but look at his backside as he stepped to the line. Her eyes rounded when he threw two hundred and twenty points in the first round. "Damn," she muttered.

"You might want to start thinking of how you'll hide from Dean."

Rachel grabbed the darts. "You're awfully cocky."

Sam shrugged. "I'm just thinking about my inevitable prize."

Rachel focused, throwing two hundred and forty points in the second round. "So am I," she replied, catching Sam's arched brow.

He threw two hundred points after her. "Sixty one points from victory. Hope you can get that one-oh-six."

She took a long drink, plucking the darts from the board. She sunk the first one in fifty-five, the second in fifty. Then, she grinned at Sam. "Can't wait to see Cas' face." With a sure throw, she landed the single point mark dead center.

Sam applauded her, then took a long drink. His first dart landed a twenty, his second just making it into forty. He paused, looking back at her. "We didn't say what we'd do in the event of a tie."

Rachel pursed her lips. "Sudden death?"

Sam shook his head. "I vote we combine our prizes."

"How?"

"You'll see."

Sam turned back, landing the single point mark with his last dart. Rachel's eyes widened as she watched Sam finish his beer. "Nicely done, Winchester."

"You too, Lentz." He moved in toward her, a devilish grin playing on his lips. "I'm ready for my prize."

"Which is what, exactly?" she asked, her breath a little shaky as his hand slid up her waist.

Sam grabbed their cash, taking her outside with him with urgency. They rounded the corner, coming to a poorly lit alley. He stopped, turning her to face himself. Pressing her to the bricks, he devoured her mouth, swallowing her moan as he pinned her with his body, his lips hungrily tasting hers.

He felt ravenous, nearly feral as he pressed into her, her little pants and gasps making him insane. Sam's mouth moved to the space just below her earlobe, suckling her jaw as he thrust against her. "You," he whispered between kisses. "You're my prize. You always have been. And always will be."

She clung to his shoulders, helpless under his ministrations, the buzz from the beer and his sensual strength making her head light. Leaning against the bricks, she let his mouth attack her skin, his hands latching on to her hair and backside simultaneously as he ground himself against her.

"Shit, Sam," she shivered. "Maybe … we should …" She didn't finish her sentence as he trapped her lips in his, moaning as he pressed his hardened bulge against her heated core.

"Mine," he reminded her, pulling away just enough to speak. "And I will do whatever it takes to have you for the rest of my life."

"I was never not yours," Rachel said softly as he looked into her eyes.

"I was afraid I lost you."

"You pissed me off, but you didn't lose me."

"Thank God."

Sam kissed her, his fingers tightening in her hair. "We should be working," she whispered as he moved his mouth over her neck, her hands sliding into his hair.

"I am," he murmured into her skin. "I'm working on showing you how sorry I am, and how much I care about you."

"We have more bars to go to," Rachel reminded him, sadly pulling away, stroking his face. "Then we can continue this."

Sam pouted, which was adorable to Rachel. Still, she led him down the main strip, keeping her hand in his.

They went to three more bars, and by the time they left the last one hours later, Rachel was more than buzzed.

"You …" She poked his chest. "You made Vance mad," she giggled, clinging to Sam's thick arm as he guided her down the sidewalk.

Sam only had three beers all night, so he was able to keep Rachel steady. "I know," he replied softly.

"He wanted to date me," she continued, uninhibited. "Then you squashed him like a bug. He might shoot you."

"I'll take my chances."

"I liked him before," she confessed. "But he was dating someone. So, I was screwed."

Sam wasn't exactly sure how he would respond to her confessions, hoping she wouldn't say something she would regret in the morning, or he would regret hearing.

"He's a good guy, Sam," she slurred, misstepping a bit, Sam catching her.

"Whoa, easy, Tiger."

"He's not a bad guy, you know that right?" Sam nodded. "But I like you in a different way. Like, I like like you." She stopped, swaying as she looked into his eyes. "Do you like like me?"

Sam grinned. "Yes, I do."

Rachel blinked heavily, trying to focus on Sam. "I'm really glad. Because I might have to puke soon." Her brow wrinkled. "Why are there two of you?"

She swayed and he caught her. "Were you drinking behind my back?" Sam asked, concerned as he looked down at her.

"No," she shook her head. "I had …" She held up four fingers. "Four beers … and a shot you bought ..." Her eyes rounded, her mood shifting dramatically as she pulled away from Sam. "Wait. Who the fuck are you?"

Sam looked at her, confused. "It's me, Sam. I didn't buy you a shot."

"You're not him, and he did," she insisted. She yanked away from him, backing up with fear in her eyes. "Stay away from me."

He grabbed her arm and examined her eyes as she protested. "I'm warning you," she hissed, "let go!" She might have been a lightweight, but she was more than drunk. Her pupils were dilated; Sam took his phone out and shone the flashlight into them, watching as they remained dilated.

"Let go," she growled, decking him in the nose, then kicking him in the groin. Sam doubled over, his phone slipping from his grip, disabled just long enough for her to put distance between them.

He swiped up his phone from the concrete. Jaw and groin sore, he pursued her to near the entrance of the last bar they went to. "Rachel, you've been given a drug. I need to know who gave you that shot."

She kept moving away from him. "I don't owe you anything."

"Rachel, stop!"

"I will call the cops if you don't stop following me," she warned. Two burly guys standing outside observed the situation, their brows raised as Sam neared them.

One intercepted him. "Back off," he warned, nearly eye to eye with Sam.

"That's my girlfriend," Sam growled, shoving out of the guy's grip.

"You know him, sweetheart?" the other asked as the first grabbed Sam again, bracing him.

Rachel shook her head. "No, he's some creep."

"Rachel—"

Both of the guys stopped Sam from going to her, which pissed him off. "She's been drugged!" he shouted, shoving against their grip. Two to one didn't give Sam any advantages; though he freed himself, they grabbed him again. Sam decked one, the other knocking Sam back into the wall with a punch.

"Back off," the guy warned.

Sam swiped the blood from his nose, lunging at the two guys who tried to keep him from Rachel. Through dodging punches, Sam saw Rachel turn to a man who exited the bar. "Sam!" she said with a sigh. "Where were you?"

"Rachel!" Sam shouted, trying but failing to get a good look. The guy purposely kept his back to him, making Sam unable to see his face. "He's not me! He's not me, Rachel!"

"Walk away," one of his assailants said with narrowed eyes.

"Fuck off," Sam snarled, enraged as he fought off the two men. Through the struggle against them to get to Rachel, Sam saw the man stroking her face, Rachel almost perfectly still under his touch, just as she had been in the church.

It was Arioch.

"Son of a bitch!" Sam shoved the first man away, landing a hard hook into the second and an upper cut into the first, successfully freeing himself. He bolted for Rachel, heart racing. "Rachel! He's not me! Don't let him touch you!"

Before he could grab her arm, she disappeared. "Fuck!" he shouted, panicked as he scanned the area.

She was gone.