Charlene stood sturdily in the pre-dawn light, locked in Sam's embrace, smiling into his sad, desperate kiss. She pulled her face back, brought her hand up to his lips, and looked at him with her kind, blue eyes. Her cool fingertips against the heat of his lips brought Sam back to the present, grounding his as Charlene knew they would.
"Sammy, Sammy, it's okay," she whispered. "I'm here, you're here, everything is okay."
Sam bit back tears. "You're right," he said softly.
"I usually am," she replied, matching his tone."
"No, you are right about what kind of story I'm in," he said, voiced tinged with helplessness. "It's a tragedy. It's always been a tragedy."
Charlene smoothed her hands down Sam's arms and took his hands in hers. "There's beauty in that, Sam. Nobility, sacrifice, love, all inherent in this path you've chosen for yourself."
You don't understand," Sam said in frustration, letting go of her hands. "This path," he gestured to the Impala, "it's no good. It turns people bad."
"Did it turned you bad?" she asked quietly.
"No one comes back down this path better than they were before, and most don't come back at all." The light went out of Sam's eyes. "I don't want that for you."
Charlene took a step back. She tucked her black hair behind her ears and then placed a hand on her hip. Her voice changed, took on a stern and serious tone. "Sam, you're an idiot."
Sam's mouth hung open as he knit his brows together, unable to to think of a reply.
Charlene continued, "Sam, I mean it. If you really think the work you do, the people you've saved, the love you have for Cas and for your brother... if you think that after all that you're still a bad person? Well, you're either an idiot or a fucking masochist. "
She stepped back toward him and her face softened again. She raised a gentle hand to his face. She could feel his jaw clench and unclench over and again as his eyes darted down to the ground and then back up to her eyes. She leaned into his ear and whispered, "so which one is it?"
Sam's tongue felt clumsy in his mouth. "W-what?" he said, thickly.
Charlene closed her eyes and began to quote from memory, measured words with a measured rhythm. "Will all great Neptune's oceans wash this blood clean from my hand?"
Sam's breath quickened. Macbeth. She was quoting Macbeth. Her eyes slowly opened, and in them Sam could see that she expected a reply, an answer to her question. She ran her hand down his arm again, taking his hand in hers.
He took a deep breath, squeezed her hand, and closed his eyes, struggling to recall the words. "No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red."
He opened his eyes again to see Charlene, nodding knowingly.
"Masochist it is," she replied empathetically. "You've done some dark things, and you beat yourself up about it every spare second you have. You fear that, without the guilt, without the self loathing, you'd have nothing." She released his hand and leaned into him, wrapping her long arms around in a comforting embrace. Then, she murmured reassuringly into his ear, "And bad is better than nothing, right?"
Sam nodded meekly at the sturdy, graceful woman with the bright blue eyes, the woman who was unafraid to speak her mind, and who apparently knew his own mind better than he did. He slid his arms around her waist and hugged her right back.
Charlene took Sam's head in both hands and pressed her forehead to his. "Now look, Sammy, you are going to stop feeling sorry for yourself. I'm a big girl, I don't need you to protect me. We are going to get into this car, we are going to drive to the magical bunker, and you are going to show me all of your books and let me meet your big brother. I need to hug Castiel and goddamnit, I want some of that fucking pie." She gave Sam's head a little squeeze. "Do you understand me?"
Sam nodded again.
"Goddamned right."
Charlene released Sam and went to close the trunk lid, when something fell down into the trunk. She leaned in and pulled out a small rectangle wrapped in a black plastic bag like the kind one would get at a liquor store. It must have been tucked into the lining in the roof of the trunk. She stood and held it out for Sam's inspection.
"What is this?" She asked curiously.
The question snapped Sam from his stupor. "Uh, never seen it before."
He took the rectangle from Charlene and slowly unwrapped the black plastic. Inside was a clear plastic cassette case, and in that was a plain, white audio cassette. On the audio cassette, written with Sharpie in his brother's handwriting, were two words.
For Cas .
Charlene leaned over and took a peek. She eyed it curiously until she saw the writing, and then her eyes exploded to meet Sam's equally surprised gaze. She started slapping Sam on the arm, exclaiming, "Holy shit! Holy shit! Is that what I think it is?!"
Sam answered her question with another question. "Did Dean make Castiel a mixtape?"
"Oh my god, we HAVE to listen to it!"
Sam was unsure. "Isn't that an… invasion of privacy?"
"Sammy, upstairs you told me that on at least one confirmed occasion Dean has stuck your toothbrush in his armpit."
He pressed his lips together and shrugged.
"Exactly," she replied. "All bets are off."
The two climbed into the Impala and Charlene excitedly clicked on the stereo. She ejected the existing tape, the one Castiel had sang for Dean, and slid it in her sweatshirt pocket for safekeeping. Then, she carefully slid out the tape For Cas, flipped it over and back to make sure she was starting on Side A, and slid it into the player. Sam turned the engine over and they waited for the music to start up.
"Oh my god, I'm dying," she mumbled under her breath.
"This feels like I'm reading his diary," he mumbled in reply.
"You would totally read his diary and you know it."
And then, the music began.