The shower was good, the research is bad. The no sleeping is bad.

Good would be sleep, with no hallucinations. Good would be finding Kevin's killer.

And good...well, I'm not completely sure it exists anymore, if it ever did.

The sun rises, coating my scattered notes and scribbles in sunlight. Highlighting all my shortcomings and mistakes.

I can't stay in the motel room anymore, not with carved-up eyes and the presence of a dead girlfriend surrounding me.

I try to catch the name of the girl at the front desk, and she tosses it to me before disappearing behind her computer monitor.

Kelly.

Kelly thinks that Sam is crazy. Kelly either feels sorry for Sam or is afraid of him. Or both.

There's no word for that.

Somehow, despite the meds and the sleep deprivation and the hallucinations and whatever other torments are wreaking havoc on my mind and body, I end up at the cafe that I'm supposed to be meeting Cameron at. I'm not as early as I expected. Only thirty-four minutes. Apparently, I'm also hallucinating the passing of time. I was just here a few hours ago...wasn't I?

I order a coffee, getting the same look from the barista...Maria...that I got from Kelly.

I have to find a word for that.

Tragedy?

Tragedy. Noun. An event causing great suffering, destruction, and distress, such as a serious accident, crime, or natural catastrophe.

Is what I'm receiving from their gazes and glances a recognition of tragedy?

The coffee steams gleefully at my laptop's side, begging to be noticed. My white-mittened hands shy away from the heat and scrabble along at the keyboard.

Internet search.

Countless pictures of eyes.

Jess is sitting behind me. "Sam, stop." she grabs one of my hands and shows it to me. The discolored skin under the bandages can't be mine, but it is. Burned, bruised. The shaking is mine, too...it makes it hard to type, hard to hold on to my coffee.

"You're making yourself sick with all of this. When will you just admit you can't crack this?" Jess muses sympathetically.

I pull my hand away.

"You know why you asked her for help, don't you? Cameron?" Jess asks me.

I know, but I don't grace her question with an answer. Especially because the other people in the coffee shop might weird out if they hear me talking to myself. Don't be stupid, people. I'm not talking to myself, I'm talking to my dead fiance. Get your facts straight.

"You know." Jess whispers. "You trusted her. Just long enough to invite her along. And no matter what you tell yourself, that she's smart, or different, you know the truth."

I look up and see Cameron, trying to sneak up on me.

"It's because she look like me." Jess confirms my greatest fear in one sentence. "You invited her in because she reminds you of me."

Don't Jess, just...don't.

Cameron's coming closer, but I keep pretending that I haven't noticed her yet, that I haven't registered that she has the same piercing green eyes, the same softly curled blonde hair, that same….everything. Almost.

"What are you so upset about, Sam? It's okay. Natural, even. Don't let it get to you." Jess presses.

Cameron cuts Jess off, announcing her supposedly secret arrival. "Well, you're here early." she comments.

"You came." I begin, playing along.

I'm rocked by Jess' revelation. I think that somehow, I knew that I was drawn to Cameron because I missed Jessica, but having the feeling confirmed is...I don't know what's going on in my head.

Jessica died years ago. I will always love her, but picking another woman to match her? Replace her?

"I said I would." Cameron states briskly.

I gesture for her to sit down.

The laptop monitor creates the perfect excuse to tear my gaze from her, even if just for a moment.

"I want to know more about the eye symbol." I begin.

"Have you found anything about it?" She leans forward, her hair falling against her cheek as she tries to see the screen. She tucks the loose strands behind her ears impatiently as I turn the screen around to show her my scant google results.

"No. You didn't exactly give me much to go on. I did find that the actual FBI didn't record any such symbol. I want to know if they're covering something up and why."

She bites her lip, taking in the few images on the screen, then shaking her head dismissively.

"So what did it look like exactly? How big was it? Did it look tattooed, burned, or painted onto the skin?" I bombard.

"Woah, one question at a time. As I told you, it looked like an eye. The 'eye' was oval shaped with a circle in the center of it. It looked like it had been carved into the victim's arm."

"Carved...okay..." I type into my laptop again, still at a loss.

"Any more questions about the mark?"

"You know you're going to have to start giving her more information if you want her to help." Jess prods me in the back.

Ignoring Jess, I focus in on Cameron. The two girls are bleeding together into one in my head, arguing with each other as they become each other. I press my hand against the pill bottle shaped bulge in my coat pocket and inhale deeply, then move my hand away.

"No, but I had questions about the way you found him. Beyond the mark." I make myself stay in the conversation, in reality.

Cameron leans back, staring at the coffee menu behind me as she begins to speak, her gaze racing along the curves of the white, handwritten chalk letters.

"Well, I was taking a shortcut through this alley when I noticed someone lying down beside the dumpster. I moved closer and noticed that it was a man lying on his back, and his eyes were gone; burnt out. His face was covered in blood, as was his arm that had the mark. His clothes were pretty tattered as well."

Poor Kevin. Bile rises in my throat.

"What, like he'd been in a fight or something?" I manage to choke out.

Cameron thumps her fist on the table, startling me a little.

Her eyes light up eagerly. "Maybe. It was mainly his shirt that was ripped up. The sleeve of the arm with the mark was ripped off, and there was no sign of it in the alley."

I can't focus anymore. This girl is so beyond me, so weird.

"Cameron...why are you helping me?" I blurt.

Her eyes bore into me, just like Jess'. After a moment, she looks down at her lap, breaking eye contact. A tell.

"I told you, I'm curious." she says carelessly.

"This is dangerous, and honestly, you wouldn't help me if you knew how deeply I'm actually involved."

She looks back up and rolls her eyes at me, ticking things off on her fingers. "First off, danger doesn't concern me. I've been in the middle of some pretty nasty business before, and last I recall, you asked me for help."

Overconfident. Adjective. possessing an excessive or unreasonable amount of confidence.

I press my palms against the table and lean forward. "Trust me when I say you have NEVER been involved in something like this before. I promise you that. And I asked for your help out of desperation. I'll take information from you, but I'm not getting you involved."

"Well, I'm already involved whether you like it or not." Her hands grope and twitch inches away from mine. I get the feeling she wants to grab my wrists to keep me from leaving her behind.

"KEVIN TRAN HAS BEEN ELIMINATED." my head screams.

I barely manage to hold back a cry as the remnants of angel radio crackle to life in my head. "Kevin Tran has been eliminated. Well done, Gadreel." Metatron's voice bites into my head. "Do you want your next assignment?"

"Without Sam Winchester," Gadreel's smooth voice says, "I am not sure I can continue. He was a vital part of my performance and abilities."

"Find someone else." Metatron demands. "Because the next one on the list is Dean Winchester."

Cameron slowly bleeds back into the focus of my vision as the words of Metatron and Gadreel fade out.

My brother's in danger, and nothing else matters.

I push away from the table and shove my laptop back into its bag. "Do you have a car?"

"Yeah..." she replies hesitantly. My vision has blurred over from the intense headache, and I blink furiously to try to see Cameron again.

"We need to go. Now." I urge. "I'll explain on the way."

She stands with me. "Okay then."