Rachel was discharged the next day, Doctor Halloway more than happy about the results of her surgery. He expected her to recover quickly. Still, Doctor Aster, the resident psychologist, haunted Sam hours after he gave him a warning in confidence:

"Mister Winchester, I would advise you to be mindful of Rachel's emotional state regarding intimacy. Though she may heal quickly physically, she is likely to sustain mental damage far longer, if not for the rest of her life. Let her set the pace."

Sam nodded. "I understand."

"The best thing you can do initially is to give her enough space to process things on her own. At the same time, you need to make yourself available for support. It's inevitable that Rachel will regress during this first week, so please be aware that anything can trigger it, even something seemingly insignificant. If she does regress, give her the space to work through that emotion. Don't try to force her to cope sooner than she can."

What Doctor Aster could never understand is how much harder Rachel's recovery would be, when the face of her assailant also belonged to her boyfriend.

When they initially got back to the bunker, Sam had begun shifting everything she had back in his room from the guest room while she napped, careful not to wake her. Still, now just finishing the task, he could tell she was sleeping far lighter without the aid of the sedative they had given her. A sheen of sweat broke out over his hands as he stopped moving her clothes, watching her writhe in bed as she murmured.

"Baby," he whispered, moving to the bedside, pained as he saw her wrinkled face, and heard his name on her lips in the midst of her nightmare. "Baby, wake up."

All it took was a brush of his hand on hers. Rachel screamed, bolting from the bed with a cry of pain against her sore stitches. "Easy," Sam urged, crouching down next to her.

His heart stopped when she looked at him and paled. "Don't touch me!" she shouted, grimacing in pain as tried to scramble away.

"No! Rachel, it's me!" Sam begged, which only made her more hysterical. He panicked, trying to hold her still to avoid her damaging her stitches. Still, she fought him with violent screams, nearly crawling off the bed to get away from him.

Dean was out getting food, so it was only Cas left to help. "Cas!" Sam shouted desperately. Castiel blinked into the room, brow arched as he looked to Rachel. "Please, Cas," Sam begged. "Please help her rest."

Castiel moved to Rachel, gently touching her forehead and putting her to sleep. He held her limp body, remaining respectful as he laid her back in bed. Sam pulled up the blankets over her, devastated. It hadn't even been a couple hours, and she was already terrified of him.

"Fuck," Sam growled, bolting out of the room. He punched the wall outside of his room, hunched over as shook, tears falling freely. He felt Castiel's presence next to him. "Cas, I can't. I can't do this."

"She will come back to you," Castiel insisted. "Give her time."

"In the meantime, she will hurt herself if I'm in there." Sam looked to him. He wanted so badly to take care of her, but she clearly wasn't ready for that. "Can you … Can you help her, but take away the memories? I don't want her to feel awkward if you help her … get to the bathroom for ..."

Castiel nodded. He knew what Sam was implying. "I can," he replied.

Sam's jaw flexed as he ground his molars together. "Thank you." He looked back to his room. "I'll just ask that you can bring her her meals that I'll make, help her to the bathroom if she needs it, and put her to sleep every night. I'll sleep on a chair in her room. At least she can get a solid night's rest that way."

"Sam," Castiel said gently, seeing his distress, "whatever she may experience in her mind, this is not your fault. And she knows that."

Sam shut his eyes, shaking his head. "Not yet she doesn't."

Nineteen Days Later

Lebanon, Kansas

Castiel rested the bowl of chicken soup on the tray table next to Sam's bed as Rachel pushed herself to sit up. "Hey," he chided, "you aren't supposed to be doing that." He took her under her armpits, easily lifting her to sit up as he adjusted her pillow behind her back.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Honest. I feel fine. No pain."

"Sam is adamant about bed rest."

"Doctor Halloway wanted at least a week, and we are almost at three." She sighed as Castiel rested the bed tray in her lap. "I feel bad."

"For what?"

"For you having to do this."

Castiel sat carefully on the edge of the mattress to avoid shaking the tray too much. "It's not a burden to me," he assured her.

"Cas, why won't he even come in here?" she asked, knowing how desperate she sounded but not really caring.

"You weren't able to be near him—"

"I wasn't," she emphasized. "I am now."

Even Rachel had to admit Sam had been wise to stay away in the beginning. Sam operated like a ghost, sneaking into the room for whatever he needed while she slept. After noticing the red armchair from the library in the corner of the room, Rachel managed to get the truth out of Castiel about Sam sleeping on it. She was bitter at first to learn Sam had the angel put her to sleep every night, but she came to realize that her healing progressed much faster with the angel's touch and she benefited from the reliable, steady rest. In fact, Rachel was fairly certain Castiel had healed her completely within a day, but Sam apparently would not be moved regarding the time table, and Castiel wasn't one to interfere.

Once she adjusted her brain between truth and circumstance, Rachel had been stable, ready to see Sam. That was over a week ago. Still, though Castiel related the message, he refused to come into the room when she was awake, and it dug at her further each day that passed. "Didn't you tell him I was okay?" she asked.

Castiel nodded. "Just like yesterday and the day before that." He gestured to the soup. "You should eat."

"Yeah. Wouldn't want to piss off the Giant," she muttered. She ate the soup, impressed with how good it was. Sam had cooked every meal for her every day, only resorting to pizza once in nearly three weeks from what she guessed was sheer exhaustion. Before everything happened, she would've been impressed with one home cooked meal. Now, she was kind of wishing Dean would bring her a bacon burger in secret. Sam's protectiveness had turned him into a distant, yet overbearing monster. Though she loved him, it was wearing thin.

With a deep breath, Rachel finished the soup and handed her tray to Castiel. She slung her legs over the side of the bed, standing. "Well, if he won't see me, I'll go see him," she decided.

Castiel's blue eyes widened. "Rachel, I don't think that's a good idea."

Her brow arched. "And why not?"

Though he towered over her, Castiel was obviously intimidated. "Because Sam, um, said you should, um …" Castiel gulped as Rachel passed by him, heading toward the door. "Oh no."

The door creaked open just before Rachel could leave, Sam's brow arching when he saw her standing. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked gruffly, eyes rounded as he approached her.

Rachel sighed, hands on her hips. "Hi, Sam, nice to see you too … for the first time in three weeks."

"I'm going to go," Castiel said with a wince, quickly leaving.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Sam, whose jaw ticked as he looked her over. "So, I guess this is where I ask you where the hell you've been."

"Here," he replied stiffly, avoiding her eyes. "I've been here with you."

"Not with me," she corrected. "Nearby, across from, somewhere in the vicinity, but not with." She stepped closer to him, seeing the heavy dark circles under his eyes. Though she had been sleeping well, he obviously hadn't. His skin lacked his usual color, his eyes their typical spark. He had worried down to a shell of himself, and it was painful to see. "I'm fine, Sam," she reminded him, her tone gentler. "I feel fine. I really do."

"I just want to make sure you heal."

"I healed weeks ago."

"All of you."

She looked away, shutting her eyes. "I won't heal that fast," she said. "But it doesn't mean you need to avoid me still."

"I'm not avoiding you," Sam insisted, stepping closer.

"Then lay with me," she challenged.

His eyes seemed to darken a bit as he examined her. "I want to."

"So get in."

With a subtle curl on his lips, he kicked off his boots and climbed into bed with her, holding her possessively as she laid next to him. "Goddamn, I missed this," Sam murmured, nuzzling her hair, ready to cry from relief of finally touching her again.

"Me too," Rachel agreed, inhaling his comforting scent as she buried her face in the soft flannel of his plaid shirt. "Sleep with me tonight?"

He knew she meant just in bed, but the idea of being so close to her was almost more than he could bear. For three weeks, he wanted her badly. Even after she initially feared him, he wanted nothing more than to hold her and kiss her. He wanted to nurture her, to erase the horrid memory of Arioch hurting her and replace it with worship of her body, of her heart. It was dirty, selfish, and given all she had been through, he felt like an ass for even having the thoughts. "You won't hurt me by sleeping," she promised.

Sam sighed. His back was more than stiff from nearly three weeks of his six foot four inch frame sleeping on the armchair. Her small, warm body pressed against his, her hands roaming over his chest and shoulders. She smelled divine. His lips found her forehead, kissing her with a swallowed groan. She tasted so damn good, so creamy and soft. His fingers slipped up the hem of her Yankees sweatshirt as they coasted over the curve of her backside clad in impossibly tight yoga pants. He wanted to devour her, to lock himself in his room and make love to her for days until she was screaming his name out of pleasure rather than fear.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pulled away, angry as he felt himself lose control. He couldn't undo her progress. He couldn't trigger her. She needed space, Doctor Aster said. She needed time-it didn't matter that he desperately needed her. "I can't," he said, pained as he slid out of bed and stood. He ran a hand through his hair, clearing his throat. He had half a mind to say "fuck it" to the doctor's advice and just take his chances, but he couldn't be that selfish.

"Sam—"

"Rachel, I can't," he repeated. "You … I don't … I can't … You need to rest."

Rachel watched as Sam picked up the bed tray Castiel left, keeping his focus on it through a pause. She prayed maybe he had changed his mind, or was in the process. Still, he silently left, clicking the door shut behind himself.

Her heart sank, tears filling her eyes. She knew what his avoidance meant—he was no longer attracted to her. Sam was a good man. His caretaking, sweet-mannered, gentle giant routine was just charity, as it probably was the whole time. Maybe before she filled a void for him, but after being raped, and now possibly pregnant, Sam was no longer interested. She couldn't blame him—she was damaged goods, a burden, an unexpected weight for the brothers to carry. Because they had kind hearts, she was living here. Still, there were plenty of other whole, untainted women that would throw themselves at the chance to be with Sam. And it was just as well. If she was pregnant, she had no right to burden him with it. The child wasn't even his. Separating herself from the brothers was the best thing to do. She would find somewhere else to live.

Rachel sat up, climbing out of bed and looking to her duffel bag, then to her phone. There were a handful of hunters she could take shelter with temporarily, until she figured things out. Most of them were men who would likely want to get a favor or two in return. There was one woman, though, that she had met a few months ago. Jody Mills. She had taken in a few wayward girls before. Rachel was much older than them, but it was at least somewhere to go, somewhere to be. After all, Jody said to call or text if she needed anything. And she certainly did now.

She took out her phone, sitting on the edge of the bed and typing out a new message:

This feels really awkward, but I don't know who else to turn to. If there is room for me, I would like to work for my place at your house. It would only be temporary. If there's no room, or you just don't want to, please don't be afraid to say no.

Rachel sent the message, shutting her eyes. It wasn't the whole truth, but the "I may be pregnant with an evil angel's bastard child" thing could wait.

She waited a few moments, but no response came. With a sigh, she set the phone down on her night stand, picking up her glasses. Sam had bought her a new pair after hers had been broken when she was kidnapped. She slipped them on, focusing on Sam's small decorative details in his room. Standing, she crossed to a picture on the shelf across from her, lifting it up and examining it. Sam, Dean, and their mom Mary looked back at her with wide smiles, a recent selfie capturing an incredible joy of reunion.

Her phone pinged, and she grabbed it, opening the reply from Jody:

Of course, sweetheart. Do you have a way to get here? Are you still in Illinois?

Rachel typed out a quick reply:

I'll find a way. Not in Illinois.

Jody seemed curious:

Where are you? I can meet you there.

Rachel drew in a deep breath:

Kansas

Jody replied:

I have friends there. The Winchester boys. They are good people. They can get you here.

Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, Rachel typed back:

I don't want to bother them. I'll find my way. I will see you in a couple days.