Chapter 24

The sounds of talking slowly grew more and more distinct as Sam woke. When he rolled over, he saw Dean sitting on the edge of the bed watching tv and cleaning his gun. He rolled onto his back and half listened to the woman on the television; but the mention of San Quentin reminded him of what he'd heard before going to sleep. "Hey," he said sleepily and Dean glanced at him and nodded in acknowledgment, "what's going on?"

"Some fire at the prison," Dean mumbled.

Half of Sam's brain wanted to confront Dean about his strange behavior lately-enough was enough-and the other half had almost grasped what about the story had grabbed his attention last night. "California..." he said to himself.

"Hate to break it to you, dude, but we are so not in California. If we were, I would so be at the beach checking out all the chicks in what they call," he air quoted with his fingers, "swimsuits."

Sam snorted, "When have you ever, in your life, went to the beach?"

Dean's hands froze and he thought for a moment and then tipped his head to the side, "Touché."

The mention of Dean checking out "chicks" on the beach made Sam think of Nadia. "So... Nadia called me yesterday..." he watched Dean, who glanced up at the tv and back at the gun in his hand; but Sam knew he had his interest. "She said you tried to call." Dean glanced over at him, looking very annoyed; not only with Sam but also with himself. Sam chuckled humorlessly, "It doesn't make you weak or anything. It's a normal thing to do," he tried to point out.

"Yeah, because we're normal."

Sam rolled his eyes and sat up. "You've been acting like... Not like you. I've been trying to keep my mouth shut; but this whole," he gestured to Dean with his hand, "'I'm-so-not-affected-by-this' thing is crap. It's thrown us all out of sync."

"Don't be a drama queen, Sammy," Dean sighed and tossed the gun back into his duffle bag.

Sam clenched his jaw and tried to stay calm, "I'm not being a drama queen, Dean. Half the time you're throwing a pity party for yourself and the rest of the time you're acting like the last few months never even happened." This time Dean was the one to clench his jaw. "I know you're not the type of person who has some big, pivotal moment where you spill your guts and say what you're really feeling; but..." He searched for a way to break through and get Dean to respond; so he said the only thing that he knew would work, "This is affecting the job."

Dean turned to Sam with an incredulous look on his face, "Affecting the job? Who found a pattern in all this?" he pointed to himself. "Who always said it was Rebecca? Huh?" He threw his arms up, "You want some big, grand emotional moment? Fine! You want to know what I feel? It's killing me! My entire life, I've never gotten close to anyone other than you, dad, and Bobby. Until Nadia. And she left." He stared at Sam for a couple of beats, "She left, Sam. And why?" he smiled coldly. "She left because of me. Because I made a deal and because I got close to her. She left because of me."

"For you," Sam replied softly.

"For me, right. Thanks for the correction, Sammy. She's out there doing God knows what because I got close to her and she feels like she needs to save me. She could be dead right now and I wouldn't even know it." He dropped back onto the bed and his whole body sagged as if deflated. "I can't do anything," he shrugged. "She won't let me do anything. We," he looked at Sam, "tried everything to get me out of this deal and somehow she found a way? And I know that you know how she did it; I need you to tell me what she agreed to. Where is she Sam? What is she doing? How did she get me out of this deal? I have to know, Sam."

Sam was starting to regret promising Nadia that he would keep his mouth shut. "I can't tell you that. But," he quickly added when he heard Dean's quick intake of breath, "I can tell you that as of yesterday she was leaving California."

"California?" Dean seemed distracted by the word.

"California," Sam nodded and then froze as something finally fell into place. California...He glanced at the tv which now was playing some kid's show. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He stared at the floor, disbelieving.

Dean caught the sudden change in Sam's demeanor, "Sam?" When Sam glanced at him and then erased the shocked look from his face as if he just realized what he'd looked like, Dean knew something was up. "Sam what is it?"

Sam avoided eye contact and looked around himself like he'd lost something, "Nothing, I just...thought of something, is all. No big deal. Um... We should probably get going," he stood up quickly and strode to the bathroom.

Califonia. Something about the word had sparked something in Sam's mind, that much was obvious. But what was that something? Sam obviously didn't want Dean to know what he'd realized; so there was only one thing that this whole epiphany could relate to: Nadia. He spun around, "Sam!"

Sam stopped just as he reached the door and paused before he turned. He tried to look like he didn't feel like he was about to be sick, "Yeah?"

Dean's eyes narrowed, "California. Nadia." He glanced at the tv where Sam had so frantically looked at a moment ago, "The fire at San Quentin... Does that have something to do with Nadia?" He didn't see how it possibly could; but there was some connection there that Sam didn't want him to see. A memory flashed to the front of his mind. Nadia was telling him how her Aunt Themi had told her that she couldn't stay good forever... He wasn't even aware of the fact that he was slowly shaking his head from side to side. A connection Sam does want me to know about. A fire. Nadia can't stay good. His head felt detached from his body, "Did she, did Nadia do that?" He could barely hear himself ask the question but he couldn't say the words any louder.

Sam's eyes dropped to the floor, "I..."

"Don't lie to me."

"...don't know."

"She said she couldn't stay good."

Sam's eyes widened, "No, Dean. That's not it at all. I just talked to her yesterday," he shook his head.

Dean looked directly at him, "That fire happened two days ago. When she talked to you," he looked like the words were choking him, "did she sound like anything was wrong?"

"She sounded normal," Sam tried to comfort his brother.

"Normal?" Dean looked disgusted and Sam knew that was the wrong word to use. "She did that," he pointed at the tv, "and she was normal?"

Sam looked around the room as if there was someone else he could plead with to take over his side of the conversation; but he was on his own. I didn't sign up for this, he thought to himself. "Okay. Dean, I'll tell you about Nadia's deal. But you have to promise me you'll let me get through the whole thing before you freak out, alright?" Dean just stared back at him and he took that as an agreement; so he told him all about the one thousand souls and Nadia's loopholes. "See, she found a way around the deal. That fire killed deathrow inmates, Dean." He sounded much more okay with the whole thing than he actually felt.

"Six hundred people," Dean said numbly.

"People who were already going to die. Bad people, Dean. Murderers. Rapists."

"People."

"How many things have we killed because they've killed people? Huh?"

"Demons, werewolves, ghosts."

"Killers." Sam was starting to see the brilliance in Nadia's plan, "How is what she did worse? Just because they have different DNA?" he shrugged.

"They're human, Sam."

"Yes, they are. But so are werewolves most of the time and who knows how many people we killed because they had a demon inside of them? Nadia killed different kinds of monsters. She killed people full of all different kinds of demons. Where do you draw the line, Dean? What makes it okay to kill for the greater good? Genetics? Where they fall on the food chain?" Sam could see that his words were worming their way into Dean's mind. How could he really be disgusted by what Nadia was doing when he'd been raised to do the same thing? "Hitler was human. If you could have killed him just after everything started; are you telling me you wouldn't do it because he wasn't something supernatural?"