Medical supplies were spread across the bathroom counter. The layout reminded Edith a little too much of torture instruments, and she couldn't pull her eyes away. Sam had lifted her up to sit on the countertop before going to fetch some aspirin. She held as still as possible.
"You're doing great," Tamara soothed. She was nearly finished cleaning Edith's burns.
Edith winced as the towel made contact with her red, tender skin. She was used to pain, but this was different. Every touch caused sharp, shooting pain to flash up her arms. If she wasn't already seated, she might have collapsed by now.
"Now I'm going to put on some antibiotic ointment," Tamara told her softly. She had been very straightforward, making sure Edith understood what was happening, and keeping her calm. "This shouldn't hurt very much. I'll be very gentle."
Edith watched her squeeze a large dollop of the clear gel onto her fingertips. She let out a shaky breath as the cool ointment covered the burns.
Tamara attempted to distract her. "We're going to be spending quite some time together. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"
"Yes, I do." Edith momentarily forgot her injuries. She poured through the countless questions in her mind. There was no good place to start. "What are things like now?"
"Now? As opposed to…"
"Before I died."
"You-" Tamara raised her eyebrows. She decided to go along with it. "What happened?"
"I don't actually remember," Edith said apologetically. "It was a long time ago, I've forgotten a lot of things."
Tamara shook her head sympathetically. "How long ago?"
Edith frowned. "About seventy years, I guess."
Tamara's jaw hung open. "Hang on just a tick, alright?" She put down the tube of ointment and went to the door. Leaning her head around the corner, she hollered, "Winchester!" Then she pulled her head back into the bathroom and smiled politely at Edith.
Sam burst into the room in under a minute, eyes wide. "What's wrong?"
Tamara crossed her arms. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Let's just say that some important facts got left out between what you told Garth, and what he passed along to me. So why don't you go ahead and fill me in. Now!"
Realization dawned across Sam's face. "What exactly did he tell you?"
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, glancing sideways at Edith. "I'd rather not say."
"Oh," Sam nodded curtly. "Dean answered my phone when Garth called back." He pushed his fingers through his hair.
"I don't do this paranormal crap anymore, Winchester. This is not what I came on board for."
He held his hands out. "I understand, I really do. But you're here, and we could really use your help on this. Garth said you have counseling experience. Please, just stay for a couple of days. I will explain everything."
"I only work with humans now," she fumed.
Sam glanced at Edith, his expression pained. He lowered his voice. "She is human. Please, Tamara. It's not her fault."
Clutching her head, Tamara paced the bathroom. "I'm going to regret this." She turned and looked at Edith. "Fine, okay."
"Thank you." Sam gave Edith a relieved smile.
"Let me go find my bags. I never even got to settle in before everything hit the fan." Tamara pushed open the bathroom door and was gone.
Sam went to Edith, and cradled her small hands in his larger ones. Sitting on the counter, she was almost taller. She watched him squinting at her palms, trying to evaluate the damage. "Is it bad?"
The burned skin appeared red and welted. Her skin might blister, but that was manageable. There were no signs of a third degree burn. Sam looked up, meeting her eyes. "I've seen worse." He lifted a hand to her worried face, smoothing her hair back. "Nothing to worry about."
Her eyes flickered across his face. "You'll take care of me."
Sam felt something surge through his chest. Protectiveness? He chewed his bottom lip, then reached for a roll of gauze. "Yeah. I'll do my best." Very delicately, he wound the gauze around her hands, covering the injured parts.
After a while, Edith spoke up. "Did you mean it? What you said about me?"
He frowned. "Which part?"
"You said it wasn't my fault. You said I'm human."
"Both true," he gave a puzzled smile.
Edith wrinkled up her forehead. "But how do you know?"
"What would make you think otherwise?" She looked away. He cupped his hand around her face, and the gesture reminded him of the previous night. It made his stomach do odd things. "Edith, listen. I have some idea what you've been through, but that doesn't change who you are."
Her face was earnest when she met his eyes. "What if I'm a just bad person? I mean, I got sent to hell for a reason, right?"
Sam couldn't think of one single comforting answer. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. It felt desperate and needy, but he didn't care. She wanted his comfort as much as he wanted to save her.
Neither heard the door open again. Tamara cleared her throat, and Sam pulled back guiltily. She looked at the both of them. "You finished?"
Sam was flustered. "We weren't-"
Tamara cut him off. "Finished bandaging her hands," she corrected.
"Oh." He hung his head. "Yep."
"How about you show me to my room then?"
He nodded. "Good plan." Tamara smirked before turning to leave again. Sam followed behind.
"Uh, Sam?" Edith was still perched on the countertop.
"Right, sorry. I've got you." He lifted her easily by the waist, and made sure she was steady on her feet. His hands lingered a few seconds longer than necessary before he remembered to drop his arms to his sides. Then he glanced over at the door. "I should-" He stopped, grinning at his own awkwardness. He allowed himself to look at Edith, really look, and warmth shone in his eyes. "Come on." He held the door for her.
Tamara was waiting for them at the corner of the hallway. Sam could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she watched him walk in with Edith.
He gestured down the other corridor. "This way. We have one more room no one's claimed yet. It's probably a little dusty, but it's yours as long as you like."
"I appreciate it, but I won't be staying forever."
They stopped outside one of the doors, and Sam pushed it open. He flicked the light switch on, and the three of them filed inside. It was almost identical to the other bedrooms. The furniture was arranged slightly different, with the bed positioned against the left wall. Sam opened the closet doors. Unlike Edith's room, this closet had no leftovers from the previous tenant.
"Perfect," Tamara nodded. She propped her suitcases against the footboard of the bed. "Sam, could you please scrounge up something for brunch? Edith can keep me company while I unpack."
He was surprised at the curtness of her requests. "Sure, no problem." He glanced around the room, cleared his throat, and finally left, shutting the door behind him.
Tamara turned to Edith and giggled. "He's pretty cute when he's flustered," she teased.
Edith looked away fearfully. "Don't tell Dean."
The smile left Tamara's face. "Why would you say that, sweetie?" She put her hands on Edith's shoulders, studying her with concern.
Shaking her head, Edith bit her lower lip.
Tamara sighed, backing up a step. "Listen, I don't know what you've been through. It sounds vastly out of my depth. But the only reason I am here, is to help you learn to cope. I promise I will do my very best for you, on one condition: I want you to do your best to be honest with me. I cannot do my job if you lie to me."
"What if-" Edith couldn't bring herself to finish.
"Anything you share with me, will stay with me. Nowadays it's called doctor-patient confidentiality."
She risked a glance up, and met Tamara's earnest expression. Her fears grew a bit quieter. "That sounds okay."
"Good," Tamara nodded. "May I ask, then... are you and Sam an item?"
"He- I don't-" Edith's forehead creased up. "We-"
Tamara placed a soothing hand on Edith's bandaged one. "It's alright." Her brows narrowed. "Why don't you want Dean to find out?"
Edith's eyes went distant. "Because I'm…" she struggled for the right word. "His amusement. His..." She shook her head. "His scapegoat." That seemed to satisfy her, and her eyes became clear, focused and sure. Tamara felt her throat close up. She was beyond horrified. Her textbooks had never covered this sort of twisted mentality. She already regretted being here.
A knock on the door broke the moment. Tamara turned to see Dean peek in, and she tried to keep her expression blank. "Ladies," he said politely. "You getting settled alright?" She managed to nod her head, keeping her expression serene. Her mind was racing, and so was her pulse.
She had heard the rumors. Over the years, she caught whispers in the quiet corners of seedy dive bars and backwoods diners. Those Winchester boys. She always smiled sadly and shook her head; unlike those who spread the rumors, she had met those boys, worked alongside them. She knew better. Those sweet, baby-faced Winchester boys could not possibly be responsible for the things she had heard. Unless...
Maybe it was time to run. It wouldn't be that hard to just grab her suitcases and leave. She didn't owe them any explanation.
Dean excused himself, and she turned away from the door. Edith gave her a ghost of a smile. "I'm glad you're here. I promise, I won't keep anything from you."
Tamara silently cursed herself. She couldn't abandon this pitiable young woman. For a brief instant, Tamara wondered how hard it would be to kidnap the girl. She tossed the idea out immediately. Whatever history Edith had with Dean, it seemed too Stockholm syndrome-y for her to leave without a fight.
"I can unpack later," she heard herself saying. "How about you show me your room, and I'll help you change your clothes."
Now Edith gave a genuine smile. "Sure thing!" Tamara held the door open, and wondered just how deep over her head this would get.