Thanks to Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for all the support in the outlining and writing stages.

Chapter Four

Sam woke the next morning early, not long after dawn, and glanced to the second bed to see it empty. Not just empty, but untouched. Dean hadn't gone to bed last night. It wouldn't be the first time he'd crashed in front of the TV while watching a late night movie, but Sam wondered if it was intentional, if he just couldn't bear to be close to Sam.

He was fixated on the conversation he'd heard between Dean and Bobby. Dean thought he'd come back wrong. The worst part was Sam was starting to wonder if he might be right. He was different. He had been different from the moment he heard about Dean's deal. He'd suffered a year knowing Dean was headed to Hell because of him, and then he'd lost his brother. How could that not change him? He'd lived four months in a world without Dean, four impossibly dark months that had left him allied with Ruby and with an addiction that almost killed him. But were the changes due to his circumstance or had he just been brought back wrong?

He didn't want to believe it; how could he change anything if he really had been doomed by his resurrection, but the thought slammed against his mind regardless. Part of him, the part of him that remembered how things were going to happen if he didn't change the future, wanted to talk it out with Dean. He wanted to force him to discuss his fears and make sense of them, but he was afraid of what would happen. Dean wouldn't want to talk. He rarely, if ever, wanted to talk. So it would be a problem from the outset. And then, if he did push his brother into conversation, what defense could he give?

He threw back his blankets and swung himself round to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat for a moment, rubbing his eyes and trying to shake off his weariness, before getting to his feet and grabbing his wash-bag from the dresser.

Sam took his time in the shower, scrubbing at his body in an attempt to rid himself of the tainted feeling of the blood in him. Despite the buzz and strength it gave him, then and now, he couldn't deny that it was wrong. It made him feel wrong, dirty, cursed, doomed. No amount of showering could remove the taint though, he knew that, so he eventually gave up trying and shut off the water. He wrapped a towel around his waist and rubbed another through his hair. He sat on the bed and pulled his duffel over to him, searching for clothes. He took out a blue shirt and clean jeans and then dried off and got dressed. Though he was in no real hurry to get downstairs, Bobby's house wasn't well heated—there was a reason they congregated in the library with its fireplace—and the longer he stayed undressed, the more chance there was of frostbite.

He laced his shoes and then made his way down the stairs. There was a rumble of voices coming from the kitchen, but he didn't pause to listen. He had learned his lesson the hard way in that respect. He strode into the room and moved straight to the coffee pot, casting the room an oblique glance as he did. There was a bed of blanket and pillows on the couch. So it hadn't been a random crash in front of the TV after all. Dean was sitting at the table opposite Bobby, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands. He was dressed in the same clothes from the night before, obviously, and his eyes were shadowed. From lack of sleep or a night spent worrying about his different, neck-snapping brother? Sam shook his head jerkily and poured himself a mug of coffee, trying to shake off the bitter thought. Dean had every right to doubt him—he didn't know the half of it and was feeling this way—but it still burned Sam.

He leaned against the counter and sipped at his coffee. It was black and unsweetened, the way Dean liked it not him, but he didn't bother to doctor it. He needed the caffeine hit.

Conversation had faltered with his appearance, and he glanced from Dean to Bobby to see if either were going to start up again, but they were both avoiding his eye, making it obvious to him that he had been the subject of their talk.

Suddenly, Sam was angry. He didn't care that they had no idea about what was really happening, that if they knew they would have every right to throw him out on his ass. All he cared about was the fact that the people he had risked everything for, busted his soul for, were acting like this. A diatribe was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. He would reveal too much if he spoke now, letting the nature of his arrival in their time slip, or his other big secret, and he couldn't risk that. If they knew about demon blood, they'd have him in that panic room before he had a chance to run and if they knew that he was out of his time… He couldn't risk the angels finding out. Who knew what they would do. He needed to get away.

He downed his scalding coffee and grimaced as it seared his throat then set the mug down on the counter. "There's a few things I need to do today, Bobby," he said. "You mind I take the Chevelle?"

Bobby started as if coming out of a daydream. "What? Uh, sure. Keys are in the dish."

Sam grabbed them and quickly left the room. He hesitated by the stairs, sure Dean would say something about him going off on his own, but he didn't, wouldn't, because despite his worries about the changes in Sam, he was accustomed to this Sam taking off on his own for food and cases and demon blood. He hadn't yet learned that leaving Sam alone led to trouble. He would learn, though, sooner than Sam would like.

Sam practically jogged to the bedroom and then his hands scrambled for the clothes and wash bag that were dotted around the small room. He stuffed everything in his duffel and turned to take in the room. He had left nothing behind; he had removed his presence completely. It wasn't for good, just a few days, just long enough for him to find a way to deal with what Dean was thinking about him and to find a way get on with his mission regardless. Long enough for them both to calm down. Just a few days. That was all he needed. And luckily, he knew just where to go.

Sam wasn't even out of South Dakota before his phone rang. He pulled over to the side of the road and pulled it from his pocket. He knew even before he checked the caller ID that it was Dean. He connected the call and braced himself before lifting it to his ear and saying, "Hey."

Dean made no attempt to conceal his anger. "Where the hell are you?"

Sam bit back a sigh. "I'm just doing a few things."

"Don't lie to me, Sam. I've seen the bedroom. You took all your stuff. What kinds of 'things' need you to pack up your crap and take off?"

"Just… things," Sam said evasively.

"Well you can turn your ass around and come back. Bobby wants his car back."

"I bet he does," Sam said scornfully. "Look, Dean, I'm not taking off. I've just got things to do and I need a few days to do them."

"Like what?"

"Like…" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. He didn't want to have this conversation, but perhaps it was for the best. He had tried to hide everything from Dean the first time he lived through these events, and that couldn't have gone worse if he planned it. Maybe he needed to be honest, or as honest as he could be, this time. "Like a hunt."

"You're hunting alone?" Dean exclaimed stridently.

"Yes. It's a simple job, I can take care of it myself."

"The hell you can."

Sam sighed. "What are you really worried about, Dean? Me or the thing I'm hunting? Yeah, I heard you and Bobby talking yesterday. I know how freaked out you are. I heard what Yellow-Eyes said about me."

There was a quick indrawn breath on the other end of the call. Sam could easily imagine Dean's face: shocked guilt quickly transitioning to anger as he came to the defensive. "What? You were eavesdropping on us?"

"Yeah, and I'm glad I did. You should have told me what he said. I could have told you he was wrong." He said the words with confidence even if he wasn't so sure about them.

"What about the witch, Sam? And Gordon and Ruby and you pulling demons with your mind and whatever else crap you're still hiding?"

"All of that, all of it, was for the greater good," Sam said bitterly.

The speaker rustled as Dean sighed heavily. "I know you think that, I do, but Sammy, you gotta see this from my point of view."

Sam smiled at the reemergence of the nickname. It meant Dean was trying to calm down, trying to connect with him again. "I do," he said. "I get it. But it doesn't change anything. I'm not hurting people. I'm doing my job, and what I'm going to do now is my job, too."

"Tell me where you are and I'll come meet you," Dean said, relentless.

"No. I'm going to finish this hunt and then I'll come back. I'm not ditching you for good. I just think we both need some space."

"Dammit, Sam—"

"I'll call you in a couple days," Sam interrupted.

"Sam!"

"Goodbye, Dean."

Sam ended the call and tossed the phone down onto the seat beside him. He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed as the phone started ringing again. He checked the caller ID and saw it was Bobby this time. Not wanting to repeat the conversation he'd just had, or maybe deal with Bobby's demands to return the car, he switched the phone off and tucked it into his pocket again. If they really needed to get hold of him, they could use Castiel. He didn't have the rib etchings yet, so he was traceable, not that he would be needed. They could get on without him just fine for a few days or however long it actually took him to get this done.

The next hunt he and Dean had tackled after Samhain was the haunting of the women's health club that had turned out to be a pervy kid who could make himself invisible because he made a wish. He'd considered ducking out on this hunt, but then he'd remembered Audrey and her teddy. He couldn't abandon her, and he needed something to distract him while he gave Dean time to work through what he was thinking. It wouldn't be nearly as complicated this time; he already knew the coin was the problem from the outset and he knew who he needed to pull it—that sleaze Wes. All he had to do was find a way to persuade him that the wishes turned bad and he'd be golden. Luckily, he had a couple of days of driving to come up with something.

After two long days spent driving, and a longer night spent the night sleeping in the car, Sam drove past the sign welcoming him to the small town of Concrete, Washington at noon. There was one place to stay in town that sounded pricey — Mountain Suites — but was actually the usual low budget motel Sam was used to staying in. It felt strange to book a single; it reminded him horribly of the way things had been when Dean was gone. It had taken him a month in that time to stop booking a double. The pain of asking for a single then, accepting the change, was less than the pain of looking at the empty bed and knowing it would stay empty forever because its occupier was gone.

He checked in with the portly man sitting in the office and smiled convincingly when the man assured him he'd have a 'great stay in their fine establishment'. His assertions were immediately proven false when Sam let himself into the room. The walls were eye-watering yellow —they made Sam feel like he had a migraine developing after only a moment looking at them—coupled with a brown and orange striped bedspread. It looked like this room had been decorated in the seventies and hadn't been touched since. He considered booking it out of there and finding somewhere to squat for his stay, but the allure of a hot shower called to him after two days in a car.

Sam's need to cleanse himself had to go on the backburner, though, as he had to make sure Audrey was okay first. He didn't know how long she'd been on her own last time while her parents sunned themselves in Bali, but however long it had been was too long. He dumped his bag and changed into his fed suit, then went out to the car again. He remembered Audrey's house from last time—the place you'd encountered a giant, talking teddy bear wasn't something you forgot—so he drove straight across town to her street. He thought there was a chance that her parents wouldn't have made their wish yet and would still be home, so he'd planned a story of a disturbance in town that he needed witnesses of to cover if they were suspicious. He thought that parents who would leave their child alone like they had last time were unlikely to be suspicious, though.

He pulled up in front of the neat looking house, with the small bike resting on the fence, and climbed out of the car. Adjusting his tie, he scaled the steps and pressed the doorbell. There was a pause and then the sound of a lock disengaging could be heard. The door opened and Audrey peeked out, her young face concerned.

"Hello?"

"Hi there," Sam said brightly. "Are your mommy and daddy home?"

She shook her head. "They went on vacation."

Sam cursed inwardly. He wasn't in time to block their wish. He wondered how many others he'd missed. "Is there someone else here with you?" he asked hopefully.

"Mrs. Hurley lives down the street."

Sam's false smile widened. "Okay, then. How about you go there and tell her about mommy and daddy going on vacation."

She shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I don't want to leave him."

Naturally, he hadn't missed her wish either. Sam schooled his features into a soft smile and crouched so he was on her level. "Your teddy?"

"He's sick."

Sam nodded slowly, not quite believing he was pulling this lie out of his ass. "That's okay. I'm a teddy bear doctor. I can take a look at him and make him better."

"You can?" she asked hopefully.

"I can," Sam nodded. "Sick teddies are very common this time of year."

She stepped forward and threw her small arms around his neck. "Thank you. Thank you." Sam leaned into her embrace slightly, relishing the innocence of the contact. She didn't know him, didn't know what he had done or would do, and she seemed to have absolute faith that he could fix her problems.

Sam patted her back. "Yeah, I'll take care of him just as soon as you go to Mrs. Hurley's."

"Okay," she said brightly, releasing him and turning and running back into the house and up the stairs. Sam followed her in and waited at the foot of the stairs, admiring the photos of Audrey through the years displayed on the wall.

After a minute, he heard a voice shout. "Shut the damn door!"

Realizing his mistake, Sam bolted up the stairs to see Audrey standing defiantly in the doorway to her room. She had her hands on her hips and was saying, "Teddy, I brought a nice doctor to help you. He's going to make you all better."

Sam stood behind her and nodded encouragingly.

"Make me better! What about the world? Who will save the world…?" The word became a howl.

"I don't think he can do that," Audrey said matter-of-factly.

Sam smiled grimly. He was doing his damndest to try.

Audrey grabbed a knapsack from the end of the bed and began stuffing it with clothes from her drawers and a couple toys from the pink chest under the window. When she was done, she cinched it closed and turned expectantly to Sam. "Take good care of him."

"Oh, I will," Sam said with a firm nod. "He'll be just fine. You go along now and I'll come get you when he's all better."

Audrey smiled at Sam and the teddy and then skipped from the room, looking completely at ease. Sam watched from the landing as she let herself out and then he turned his attention back to the teddy.

"Gonna fix me, huh?" it said.

"Gonna try," Sam replied. "You just hang here and I'll get back with some help soon." He turned to leave, but then he remembered what had led them to this house the first time round. He spun on his heel and pointed an accusatory finger. "No booze runs! There's got to be alcohol in the house already and if you're looking for porn, look in the master bedroom closet." He was pulling it out of his ass, but he figured the teddy searching for porn would give him long enough to get it locked up safe and sound.

He closed the bedroom door behind him and jogged down the stairs. The back door was located off the kitchen, and there were keys hanging on a hook beside it. Sam took them down and locked the door, sliding across the bolts at both top and bottom for good measure. He didn't know how long it would hold the bear—it had broken into the liquor store after all—but anything that would slow him down was good. He wasn't so worried about people seeing the bear, the town was screwed to hell already, but he wanted Audrey out of the way before he got free. He took the keys for the front door from a bowl on an end table and stepped outside. He locked up, making sure to engage the deadbolt as well at the latch and then he turned away from the house and made for the car again.

Sliding in behind the wheel, he took stock of what he'd done. Audrey was taken care of and her teddy was slowed in its escape if not detained completely; the next step had to be stopping more halfwits from making their wishes. Simple enough, right?

He dug through the cigar box in the trunk for his next ID before making his way into Lucky Chin's restaurant. It was reasonably busy for early evening, and there was a couple standing beside the fountain, holding hands and speaking softly together. Sam wondered if they were syncing wishes. He remembered the last time, when he'd been here with Dean. Dean had asked him what he would wish, and Sam had said for Lilith's head on a plate. It was strange how completely his thoughts had changed now compared to then. Now, he would have no wish because he was already living his wish. He'd wanted to change the future, and he was getting his chance thanks to Cas. He would ask for nothing now.

As he watched, the man at the fountain sifted through his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. Knowing he was seconds away from having another wish to clean up after, Sam pulled out his badge and shouted at the top of his voice, aware of how ridiculous he sounded. "Put down the chopsticks!"

Everyone fell silent and looked at him for a moment, and then muttering broke out.

The owner of the restaurant came jogging forward, hands raised in front of him and a tense expression. "What are you doing?"

Sam kept his voice loud so that he could be heard by the diners. "Sir, I'm from the Health Department. We've had calls about this establishment, and I can already see three violations."

"Violations!" the man hissed.

"Three, and that's just so far," Sam said, making no effort to keep his voice low. "I'm going to have to ask you to close until my investigation can be carried out. This is for public safety."

The man paled. "Close?"

Sam glanced around the room. All around the room, people were watching him, including the would-be wishers at the fountain. "I'm afraid I need to ask you all to leave," he called loudly. "The Health Department is putting Lucky Chin's under investigation."

People pushed back chairs and slid from booths, collected coats and bags and made their way to the exit. The owner groaned beside him, and Sam wondered idly just how much this 'investigation' would cost him in lost business.

A heavy-set man struggled over to Sam, clutching his stomach. "What if we already ate?" he asked. "I don't feel so good."

"Sir," Sam said in his best government official imitation, "if you are feeling unwell, report to the ER and explain where you have been and what you had to eat. They'll know what to give you." Probably antacids from the look of the man's table. There was almost a full dinner service of empty plates and bowls left behind.

When the last person had left the restaurant, the owner turned to Sam. "What violations?"

"A K-32, X-13 and M-24," Sam said, the nonsense spilling off his tongue. "And I think I just saw a rat run out of the kitchen. That's a F-19 right there."

"No rats!" the man protested. "We keep a clean place."

Sam shook his head soberly. "I don't think you do, sir. I am going to have to insist that you remain closed for the foreseeable future. I will assemble a team to complete a full inspection, and then you will be given a list of violations to correct. Then, and only then, will you be able to reopen to the public."

The man shook his head miserably. "This is my business."

"And this is people's health," Sam said implacably. "I know you'll do the right thing."

He stowed his badge back in his suit jacket pocket and walked over to the fountain. He peered into the water, searching for the coin. It was there, nestled among the pennies and dimes. He figured it was worth a try, so he crouched and attempted to lift it. It wouldn't budge.

"You stealing from me now?" the man said stridently.

"Checking the temperature of the water," Sam said. "Too warm and you create a breeding ground for legionnaires' disease. It seems a little warm, so keep away from it until it can be tested."

"You touched it."

"I'm inoculated." Sam rubbed his damp hand down his pants' leg. "I've got to make a report to the office. I'll be seeing you soon."

He strode from the restaurant, thanking his lucky stars that he'd been able to bluff his way through it all. There would be no more wishes; now he just needed to get to Wes and persuade him to pull the coin and the hunt would be over. It was a lot easier handling cases when you knew exactly what was happening from the outset. It was a pay off, he guessed, for everything this change of pace meant for his personal relationships.

Sam couldn't deny the lure of the shower, the desire to scrub and scratch at his skin to remove the taint, any longer, so he went back to the motel. He stripped down and hung his suit carefully on the back of the door. The water pressure in the shower wasn't the best, not that he'd expected it to be, but the water reached scorching heat, so he was satisfied. He stayed under the spray for a long time, feeling the heat seep into his bones and blood, the blood that was his curse. The blood that he wanted now, even knowing what it would do to him, because there was something he needed it for still. There was someone he needed it for.

When the water started to cool, he got out of the shower stall and dried himself roughly with a towel. He pulled on boxers and a clean t-shirt and sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his damp hair. When it was dried enough. He dressed in his suit again and exchanged his health department badge for some business cards declaring him to be a lawyer from a Californian firm. The lie made him smile. In another life maybe.

He made the short drive over to Wes' house and climbed out of the car. He knew this was the most important part of the case, not Audrey or the restaurant, because Wes, creepy and immoral as he may be, was the one with the fate of the town in his hands. As he scaled the steps to the house, he pushed aside his personal feelings about the man and slapped on a professional smile.

He knocked and after only a moment, April opened the door, drying her hands on a cloth. She eyed him curiously. "Can I help you?"

"Hello. I'm looking for Wesley Mondale," Sam said.

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you want him for?"

"My name is Sal Harman from Harman, Ryder and Sloane law firm. I need to see Mr. Mondale in regards to his late aunt's estate."

April smiled slightly. "Estate, huh?" Sam guessed she was thinking wedding bells. When he and Dean had been here the first time, she'd been in the middle of planning a wedding day for her and Wes, and her plans hadn't been exactly small considering her understanding explanation that Wes was 'between jobs'. A little contribution from a dead relative would make all her Justin Alexander dreams come true.

"Is Mr. Mondale home?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, sure. Please, come in." She stepped back and Sam entered, taking in the somber wallpaper and dark wood furnishings. She led him into the lounge where Wes was dozing in a chair, drooling a little. "Wes," she said gently, shaking his arm. "There's a lawyer here to see you."

Wes started awake and blinked blearily. "A what?"

"Sam Harman," Sam said, stepping forward and holding out a hand for Wes to shake. "I'm here about your Great Aunt Elspeth's estate."

"Aunt Elspeth," he said shrewdly, shaking Sam's hand. "I didn't know she'd passed."

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. It was either an incredible coincidence that he really had a Great Aunt Elspeth or he was a lot smarter than Sam gave him credit for. It didn't much matter to him, he wasn't giving Wes anything expect perhaps a punch for the trouble he caused, but it still seemed wrong.

Sam looked pointedly at April. "Is it possible for us to have this conversation in private?"

Wes nodded. "Sure. Uh, April, you mind giving us a minute?"

She shook her head happily. "No problem. I'll go finish preparing dinner."

She leaned over Wes and pressed her lips to his in what started as a chaste kiss but soon became a make-out session. Sam shifted uncomfortably. This was just plain wrong. She had no feelings for him, she wouldn't even know who he was when the wish wore off, and yet she was kissing him like her life depended on it.

He cleared his throat and said, "I have other things I need to do…"

Wes and April pulled apart, both a little breathless and flushed. Sam looked pointedly at Wes, and April scurried from the room with promises that dinner would be ready soon.

Wes watched her go and then looked at Sam. "So, Aunt Elspeth."

Sam heard pans clattering in the kitchen and figured April was distracted enough for them to talk. "Cut the crap. You don't have an Aunt Elspeth and I'm not a lawyer. I'm here to talk about you and April, and while we're on the subject, are you even aware of how messed up this whole situation is? Kissing her! Seriously?"

Wes gaped at him. "You want to talk about April? Are you her ex? Because she chose me fair and square."

"No, she's been enslaved to you because of a wish. I'm not her ex. I'm just someone who knows—and is horrified by—what you've done to her."

Wes got to his feet and pointed to the door. "Get out of my house!" he said loudly.

Sam he pulled his jacket back slightly to reveal the gun in a holster on his hip. "I think I'll stay."

Wes paled. "What do you want?"

"I want you to come with me to Lucky Chin's to pick up that damned coin and end the town's wishful streak."

"But then… April," Wes said, a slight tremble to his voice.

"Will leave your sorry ass, yes."

"Why would I do that? She loves me, like real, true, all encompassing love. Why would I give that up?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Sam tried. "Because you've practically enslaved her, and that's all kinds of messed up." Seeing he was getting nowhere, Sam changed tactics. "Because if you don't, I'll shoot you in the foot."

Wes seemed to consider for a moment. "Nah. I'll take a bullet to the foot to keep April."

Sam shook his head in frustration. "The wishes turn bad, Wes. Your whole town's going to be torn apart by what they're wishing for. People will die." Inspiration struck Sam. "You will die. April's not what you expected, is she? She's in love with you, but she's not the woman you loved from afar. She's too intense, too focused. She'll hurt you."

Wes shrugged. "I don't think so. See, I wished for her to love me more than anything. She wouldn't hurt me. How wrong can a wish for love go anyway? No, I think I'll just stay as I am, thanks."

Sam let his hand drop to the gun on his hip. "You sure about that foot? Being shot hurts a lot more than TV makes it seem."

"How do you know all this anyway?"

"About being shot? Because I have been. About April? Because I can see the future and I've seen what will happen to you. It's all very Romeo and Juliet."

Wes laughed long and hard. "You can see the future? Are you kidding me? You're crazy!"

Sam sighed. "Sure, coins making wishes come true you believe, but psychic powers you think are crazy."

Wes picked up a phone from the side-table and pressed three digits in quick succession. "You are going to leave now, before I press call and have the police here. It's a small town. It'll only take them a couple minutes to get here. You might be a giant but I'm pretty sure I can take you down and keep you there until they come. I work out."

Sam shook his head. He could wrestle the phone away from Wes easily enough, but April was in the kitchen, hopelessly devoted to him; in fact, she was so devoted that last time she'd wished for Sam to be killed rather than have Wes pull the coin. If she heard a disturbance, he had no doubt that she would come in wielding a knife to protect her beloved. Thinking it'd be nice to make it through a hunt without having to die or stitch his own ragged wounds, he dropped his hands to his sides and said, "Fine. I'll leave, but this isn't over. You are going to pull that coin."

"If you say so," Wes said happily.

Sam turned on his heel and stalked from the house. He stomped down the steps and yanked open the car door, throwing himself inside. He was pissed. He'd thought this would be an easy run - persuade Wes to pull the coin and be heading back to Sioux Falls before dawn. Unfortunately, the guy's damn arrogance and obsession with April screwed up that plan.

Sam made his way back to the motel through town, and he got another nasty shock as he drove past Lucky Chin's. The owner was standing outside the door, gesturing people inside. Even worse, people were actually going in. Sam cursed as he slammed on the brakes and threw open the car door. "What are you doing?" he shouted, grabbing two women by the arm and steering them away from the door. "Move along, ladies, this place is under investigation for a—"

"No!" the man shouted angrily. "No investigation. No rats. No codes. I called the Health Department. They said they sent no one to restaurant. They said we have a clean bill of health in last inspection and one not scheduled for three months. They said the codes were made up." He narrowed his eyes at Sam. "They said F-19 is an airplane!"

Sam would have laughed had the situation not been so dire. He glanced through the open door and saw the young couple from before were standing by the fountain again. Even as he watched, the man flicked a coin into the air and watched it drop into the water. Sam waited, morbidly curious, to see what would happen. The woman suddenly licked her lips and pounced on him, slamming their lips together. From the way they started ripping at each other's clothing, Sam concluded that the wish was either for more passion between them or public sex—either way, it had to stop. The owner seemed to come to the same realization, as he disregarded Sam and ran to the couple, waving his arms and shouting, "No!" while the other diners watched with amusement and in more than a few cases, envy.

Sam knew he needed to do something but he didn't know what. He had to empty the place again, but short of pulling a gun and ordering everyone out, he wasn't sure how to accomplish that. His eyes fell on the fire alarm on the wall. He could set that ringing but, like his Health Department cover, it would be a very temporary fix. Then another idea occurred to him. He slipped past the making out couple who were now well on the way to naked and the owner who was imploring them to dress again and into the small hall that led to the restrooms. He glanced up and saw what he needed, a smoke alarm with a small added sensor. He pulled his lighter from his pocket, thankful of his Father's Boy Scout training in his youth, and flicked the flame to life. He held it under the sensor and a moment later a shrill alarm rang out followed by a deluge of water from the sprinklers. Sam was soaked through almost immediately by the powerful spray. He heard shrieks from the main restaurant that he sincerely hoped were people reacting to the dousing they were getting rather than the floorshow.

He slopped through the water back into the main room, relieved to see people fleeing through the door. The only ones who remained were the owner and the couple on the floor who seemed to think the water added something to their position and were currently slip sliding all over each other.

"You!" the owner shouted, catching sight of Sam. "You did this!"

"Sir, I think you should leave the building," Sam said calmly, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. "It appears to be on fire."

He walked out the front door, his feet squelching in his shoes, and climbed into the car, mentally adding Concrete, Washington to the list of places he could never visit again once this case was over.

Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, running a towel through his drying hair—again—when there was a familiar fluttering sound. His gaze snapped up and he saw Castiel standing in front of the bathroom door.

"Cas?" he said, framing it as a question.

Castiel nodded. "It is I."

Sam smiled. "You might watch to ditch the coat or something; it'd make it easier for me to tell which version I am dealing with.

Castiel plucked at the front of his coat, looking reluctant. Sam realized the only time he'd seen Castiel without his coat was when he wasn't himself—when he'd been blasted back to Heaven and Jimmy had been running free for a while.

"Or the tie," Sam suggested. "You know, just something so I don't get my timeless angels mixed up."

Castiel nodded and tugged off his tie and slipped it into a pocket. "Better?"

"Much."

Sam tossed aside his towel and leaned forward. "So, what's up?"

"I have been back to Bobby and Dean," Castiel said, "to check on the progress of the things we are changing."

Sam's heart seemed to stutter in his chest. "And? Is it time to bounce me back? Because that'd be awesome."

Castiel shook his head. "No. The only thing that had changed was the fact you didn't exorcise Samhain. All their other memories are the same."

Sam cursed and cast his eyes down. He hadn't really expected it to be that simple, but he hadn't been able to help hoping. He wanted to get back to his time, to Dean and Bobby and a world in which Dean didn't think he was some defect brought back by the demon he'd dealt with.

"How are they doing?" Sam asked without looking up.

"They are much as you would expect them to be. They are concerned for you, and Dean was angry still, but I was able to reassure them somewhat."

"And me? The other me? What am I doing?"

"You are still restrained in the panic room. I have added protection in the form of chains… and Balthazar."

Disregarding the mention of chains, Sam smiled and met Castiel's eyes. "That'll be interesting. How long do you think it'll be before him and Dean try to kill each other?"

Castiel returned the smile. "They will control themselves. This is for the greater good."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Castiel frowned. The old Castiel — the angel of this time — would have taken Sam at his word and explained exactly how their plan was for the good of the world, but this one was savvy enough to know better. "How are things for you?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "So far I'm failing epically at hunting alone. I figured this was an easy one, persuade some dick to pull his lucky coin, but he's not exactly on board with losing access to the woman he's lusting over. He threatened to call the police; I wasn't actually worried about that, but I was worried about the lusting woman. Last time I countered her, I ended up getting struck by lightning. I'd really like to avoid that this time."

"How can I help?" Castiel asked.

Sam considered before grinning. "How would you feel about pulling out the whole 'I-am-an-angel-of-the-Lord' thing and scaring the morals into him?"

Castiel looked amused. "I think I would enjoy that."

Sam laughed. "Awesome."

Sam's suit was soaked and hanging on the back of the door, but he didn't really need to keep up the lawyer pretense anymore, so he finished dressing in a plain shirt and pulled on his boots. While he dressed, Castiel told him about Dean and Bobby in the time he'd left. It was little things, like the fact Bobby was staying clear of Sam's soulless self while Dean attempted to keep watch over him, that Sam appreciated hearing. It made them feel a little closer to him. He also told him about Crowley and how he was still interrogating the alphas in an attempt to get information on Purgatory. It pleased Sam that he wasn't any further toward an answer yet. The fact he'd been using alphas for almost two years without any success was reassuring.

When Sam was ready, he described the address they needed to visit. He moved to Castiel's side and a moment later they were in Wes' dark lounge again. There was a picked over roast chicken on a side table and the man in question was dozing in the chair again. Sam wondered if he ever did anything but sleep. It seemed a waste of a wish to enslave a beautiful woman just to use her for snacks and housekeeping. On the other hand, he was pleased as the more time Wes spent sleeping, the less time he spent violating April.

"How shall we do this?" Castiel asked.

"First off, we need to make sure April's out of the way," Sam said, stepping lightly across the room and peering around the door into the kitchen. April was sitting at the table with a cookbook open in front of her and a cup of coffee in her hand. Sam gestured Castiel over to him and whispered. "Think you can put her out while we talk?"

Castiel looked amused, as though the question was stupid. In retrospect, Sam realized it was. Castiel could do anything he damn well pleased. Biting back an apology, Sam watched as Castiel disappeared from beside him and appeared behind April. With a simple touch of fingertips to her forehead, he rendered her unconscious and eased her head down to the table.

"Thanks," Sam said quietly. "Now, let's deal with the douche."

He went back to the lounge and grabbed Wes' arm. He shook it roughly and Wes started awake. His eyes widened when he saw Sam standing in front of him, hands fisted. "You? Again?"

"Yes," Sam said menacingly. "Me. And this time, I brought a friend."

Castiel stepped into the room, into Wes' view.

"Who are you?" Wes asked.

Sam grinned. This would be good.

"My name is Castiel and I am an angel of the Lord."

Wes snorted. "Sure you are. I'm Wes and I'm a minion of Hell."

"Not completely wrong," Sam muttered.

Castiel straightened and his blade slid into his hand. The lights flickered and across the wall flashed a shadowy outline of his vast wings while his bright blue eyes glowed eerily. Sam had never seen him like this before, and if he hadn't known him so well, he would have been scared. Wes didn't know him, and in the face of Castiel's intimidating display, he paled and shrunk back.

"What do you want with me?" Wes asked in a tremulous voice.

"I want you to come with me and remove the curse that hangs over this town," Castiel said. "I understand it's just a case of removing a coin from a fountain. It's unfortunate, I would have preferred something painful."

Sam bit back a smile. Castiel was obviously enjoying himself.

Wes nodded eagerly. "Sure. Okay. I'll do that." He struggled to his feet. "Anything you want."

Sam grinned this time, making sure to direct it at Wes who looked like he was fighting the urge to urinate from pure fear. Sam was really enjoying himself now.

"Brace yourself," Castiel said.

Sam felt the sensation of moving and less than a second later, he was standing in an inch of water beside the fountain in Lucky Chin's restaurant.

Wes didn't brace himself. He either didn't know how or Castiel had done it on purpose, but he stumbled and slipped on the water, falling back to land hard on the floor. His pants immediately soaked through, making it look as though he had peed himself after all.

Castiel peered into the fountain and nodded as Sam heaved Wes to his feet and gripped the back of his shirt. "Come on," he said cheerfully. "Up ya come."

Wes leaned forward and his fingers touched the coin. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Sam shook the back of his shirt.

"Wes…" he hissed.

Wes gripped the coin and lifted in from the fountain. Sam snatched it from his hand and pocketed it. "Thank you."

Wes slumped visibly and rubbed a hand over his face. "True love lost," he mumbled.

Sam didn't even have a reply to that which didn't involve a fist to the face, so he didn't respond. Instead, he turned to Cas and said, "We done?"

Castiel nodded. "I can feel the curse lifting. The town will return to normal."

"Awesome." Sam nudged Wes' arm with a fist, maybe a little too hard as Wes rocked on his feet. "You, go home now. Live a clean life without cursed coins and wishes, and maybe I won't come back and kick your ass."

"A clean life," Castiel reiterated. "I will be watching you."

Sam huffed a short laugh. "Yeah, Castiel here is between prayers right now, so he'll be keeping an eye on you. Think of it, a real life angel on your shoulder."

Wes flinched. Sam would have laid it on a little thicker, had a little more fun with him, but Castiel suddenly stiffened.

"What?"

"There is another angel in this town," Castiel said. "I can sense Uriel."

Sam's eyes widened. "Does he know you're here, too?"

"No," Castiel said. "I am shielding myself from their view, but he is not alone."

Sam merely looked his confusion and Castiel went on.

"Sam, he brought Dean."

So… Uriel's in town —the dick — and he's brought Dean along for the ride. There's no way this can end well.

If you're reading and enjoying, drop me a review/message to let me know. If you're reading and not enjoying, drop me a review/message to let me know why. It will help me shape the next story.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx