Chapter 2
Lakewood, Colorado
The bad attitude Sam had expected. He knew the conversations would be short, sharp, and like pulling teeth. He even expected the denial; but not to this degree. The anger and pain that radiated off Dean reminded Sam of after John had died. Thinking back to those hostile conversations and thrown punches, Sam began to grow more and more worried about what Dean would turn into this time around.
That night on the docks when they saved Gordon--that came back to bite us--from the vampire came flooding to the forefront of his mind. Cutting off the heads of vampires was bad enough; but Dean had taken that task to another level entirely. The look on his face as he pulled the saw down on its neck, still sent shivers down his spine.
"Tell me why were here again," Dean's frustrated voice broke Sam out of his reverie.
Sam stifled an annoyed sigh before answering, "Six men were murdered in the last two weeks. No prints, no trace, no anything…you know, the usual."
"And what makes you think this is our kind of thing?" Dean asked for the fifth time.
Sam couldn't decide which Dean he preferred. The Dean who had been dying for a case, any case, after John died; or the one who questioned every possible case Sam brought to his attention. "Well, the cops have absolutely no leads and two of the guys were on their way back from the gym…where they were very devoted members. Not to mention, one was a trained cop; on the force 10 years."
"So they were Schwarzenegger wannabes that doesn't make them karate masters. Some strung-out mugger probably got the jump on them."
"You know, I don't get you. After dad died you wanted to take any case you could get your hands on and now you act like demons and spirits and werewolves don't even exist anymore." Sam turned towards Dean, "She left, Dean. But she's coming back; it's only a year."
He pulled the car into the first hotel parking lot he saw and shifted into park. "Yeah, Sam, it's only a year. But do you remember some of the things that have happened in just a year? I almost died, we finally killed the demon, dad died, and we literally opened the gates to hell! She is half demon, Sam! I try…but I still find it hard to completely believe that she can always be on our side. God knows what she is doing right now…" he shook his head.
Sam couldn't help but look away at those words. He knew what she was doing and Dean had a right to worry; even if he didn't know it. "You just have to trust her," the words were barely above a whisper and more to himself than anyone else. He felt guilty because since they had left Michigan he hadn't really thought about Nadia. He was too preoccupied with worrying about Dean and trying to put up with him. Now all he could think about was what she could be doing at that exact moment. Killing was never easy, not even for the most experienced hunter; let alone for someone like her. Nadia was good, loyal, and viciously protective; if he hadn't been in that barn in Montana he never would have believed she were capable of such a thing. She had looked like a completely different person in that one minute of confrontation.
"…I don't know what she agreed to, Sammy, and that scares the hell out of me. My mind flies to the worst situations it can possibly come up with and I can't help wondering if one of them is right on the money." They sat for a long time in silence before Dean opened the door and climbed out.
Sam watched him shuffle through the credit cards in his wallet—he still refused to use the card from Nadia—and walk into the front office. What are you doing right now, Nadia? He couldn't help but ask himself. He grabbed the door handle, I hope for both your sakes he's wrong, and closed and leaned on the door while he waited for Dean to reappear.