We pick Sam up the next morning and check him out of the hospital—well, maybe "check out" is a bit of a loose term, it was a lot closer to sneaking him out—and then our tiny two-car caravan is on it's way to the next town on our list, the one that Dean had found a case in. My world might be crumbling in on itself, but the rest of it just keeps on spinning. There's things to hunt, people to save.
We stop about half-way there to eat at a diner. Dean digs into his burger without saying a word, but Sam and I just pick at our meals. Sam still looks pretty terrible—exhausted and worn out, even after more than ten hours of sleep (which, with the life of a hunter, is actually a lot).
I probably appear almost as bad. I didn't get any sleep last night. How could I sleep with that much stress on my shoulders?
"It's weird," Sam says, absent-mindedly poking at his salad with his fork. "How Lucifer was suddenly just… gone."
"Any idea what happened to him?" Dean asks between bites of his burger.
"No," Sam says, shaking his head. There's a moment of silence between the three of us. "Did either of you…?" he finally says, looking between you and Dean suspiciously.
"Nope," I say quickly. "I'm just as confused as you are."
Dean gives me an irritated look and raises his eyebrows judgmentally as if to say, Are you going to tell him?
I shake my head very slightly at Dean. No way I'm telling Sam I sold my soul for him. At least, not now. Not in this dingy diner somewhere in the middle of Ohio. And not when he's still recovering from days without sleep.
"I guess we'll figure it out eventually," Sam says, dropping his fork onto his plate of salad and pushing it away from himself. "I'll go get some gas for the car, be back in five or ten minutes."
He slides out of the booth and leaves the diner to the sound of the ringing bell over the door.
"You have to tell him," Dean says in a hushed tone, leaning forward as soon as the door closes behind Sam.
"I'm not ready," I hiss. "He's not ready."
"I think he'd rather know sooner rather than later that you have one month to live!"
"I'm not ready," I repeat.
"Okay, so when are you going to tell him?" Dean asks.
I hesitate. I'd prefer not to tell him at all. Actually, what I'd prefer is to not be going to hell at all. But neither of those options are going to work. "I'm just going to wait until the right time."
"Which is when?" Dean demanded.
I huff in exasperation. "I don't know, okay? Just… just let me tell him, all right? I don't want it to come from you."
Dean narrows his eyes, glaring at me intensely for a few seconds. "Fine," he finally says, dropping his napkin on the table next to his half-finished burger. "But you'd better tell him in the next week."
"Okay," I grumble. "God, you nag as much as my mother."
"Yeah, well," Dean says, "At least I'm not the one lying to my boyfriend." He scoots out of the booth and tosses a couple bills on the table to pay for the food.
"Jesus, Dean, he's not my boyfriend!" I snap, following Dean out of the booth and into the parking lot.
"Deny it all you want, but I know better," he says in a matter-of-fact voice as we step out into the warm sun.
"I could say the same about you and Cas," I grumble.
"What?" Dean asks, casting me a look.
"Nothing," I reply, giving him my most innocent smile.
Sam pulls up in the Impala a few moments later and we climb in.
"Talk about anything interesting while I was gone?" he asks as we pull the doors shut.
"Nope," I say casually. "Nothing at all."
—
A week passes. We're on a case with a ghost, a case that's small and normal and comfortable. I don't know if I could deal with any more demons and their schemes. I guess I'll be seeing enough of them pretty soon anyway.
Not that Sam knows that. No, I still haven't told him. I thought about it once or twice but wussed out. I'm still not ready yet.
I know my seven day window is over when Dean stops me as we're getting out of the Impala to go inside the motel, sometime after dark when most of the motel rooms are darkened and the parking lot is lit only by the occasional wall lamp and the flickering lights from the neon sign twenty feet up, a red VACANCY below it.
"You go on inside, Sammy, I need to talk to Eva about something," he tells Sam, who shrugs and heads towards the room, duffel bag in hand.
As soon as he's out of earshot, Dean says in an annoyed tone, "I gave you a week, Eva. Are you going to tell him, or what?"
I take a deep breath, shaking my head.
"So you're just going to wait until the hellhounds are coming for you for him to find out? Is that it?" He points towards the door to the motel room Sam is in and says, "I know my little brother, and the more you wait, the more it's going to hurt him. He's going to want to know how much time he has left with you."
"I will tell him, just give me a few more days…"
"We both know that's just an excuse—" Dean starts, and then I hear from behind us, "Tell me what?"
Dean and I look up to see Sam standing there watching the two of us intently.
"Oh," I say in a surprise. I try to act as nonchalantly as I can. "Sam. What are you doing there? I thought you went inside."
"Forgot something in the car," he says dismissively. "But what were you going to tell me?"
"This one's all you," Dean says, slapping my shoulder and walking off back towards the motel. "Don't let her lie to you, Sammy!" he calls over his shoulder.
"Lie to me about what?" Sam asks me suspiciously.
Fuck. I don't think there's any way out of this one. I run a hand through my short hair nervously. "There's something I have to tell you."
"Uh, yeah, I got that," Sam says, his eyes still focused on me expectantly.
"I, uh, I…" I don't know how to even say this. "I was involved in getting your hallucinations to stop."
Sam watches me, completely frozen. I don't even think he's breathing. I know I'm not.
I take a deep breath and go on. "I made a deal."
Sam closes his eyes, a pained expression on his face. He knows I'm telling the truth. I couldn't lie about something like this. "How long?" he says quietly, eyes still closed. "A year? Like Dean?"
I'm paralyzed. I can't respond. The agony in his voice makes it impossible to speak.
His eyes open again and he looks at me. He doesn't say anything but the intensity on his face forces the words from my throat. "A month." It comes out barely more than whisper.
Sam turns away to conceal whatever emotion he's feeling, curses softly.
Finally he spins back around, his expression a mix of pain and anger. "Fuck, Eva!" he says, not loudly, and not angrily, but closer to disappointed. I think it's worse than just anger would have been. "It wasn't worth it. I'm not worth it."
"Don't say that," I tell him, my voice low. "You're always worth it."
"Trading your life for mine? That's not heroic, Eva, that's selfish."
"Yeah, well, it's my decision and it's done now so you'll have to fucking deal, okay?" I snap at him.
Sam pauses, a scowl on his face. "And Dean knew?"
"I told him the first night," I say, trying to keep my voice calmer. "Because I was… because I didn't know what to do."
"How did he react?"
"He was really pissed too," I say.
Sam huffs a laugh. "Of course he was."
"He said he'll help keep hellhounds away when… when, you know."
A corner of Sam's mouth turns down in thoughtfulness. "We can try. I don't know if it will be enough."
"I know," I reply.
There's a pause, and then Sam steps forward and pulls me close to him, wrapping his strong arms around me. I usually hate being treated like this, like I'm not tough enough to hold myself together by myself, but now I return his hug without a word. I feel safe for now, in a world of danger, and it's such a relieving feeling.
"Thank you, Sam," I whisper.
"For what?" he murmurs back. "You're the one who traded your soul for my sanity. I haven't done anything."
"Thanks for sticking with me," I clarify.
There's a few moments of silence before he sighs, hugging me tighter, and whispers, "Of course. Always."