Damaged

Malleus Maleficarum

I sighed, and blew my nose again. A little after the last hunt, I got the flu, and I just got over it, but I was still feeling bad. I sniffed and threw back the covers, going to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I grimace at my pale face and bruised looking eyes. I pulled my hair into a bun, then rinsed my face. Suddenly, my stomach lurched, and I leaned over the toilet, throwing up the couple sips of chicken broth I'd managed to get down. Afterwards, I spit into the toilet, then brushed my teeth. My cell rang, and I answered, still brushing.

"Hello."

"Oh, Lynn." Sam sighed. "Still throwing up?"

"Yes. Can you bring me some orange juice?"

"Sure. Anything else?"

"No. I just threw up chicken broth, so I don't think I can even keep the juice down. Hang on," I spit and rinsed my mouth. "I may be asleep when you guys get here. So what was it?"

"A witch."

"Really? That sounds cool."

Sam chuckled. "Not really. They hex you, and the murders are brutal."

"The one in the paper sounded like it." I sniffed again, then groaned, jumping into bed. "Ice cream. Pick that up too, please."

"You got it. We'll see you later."

"Okay," I said, half asleep. I hung up, and a second later, I was asleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I don't know how long I was asleep, but I was jolted awake by Dean shouting.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"What?!" Sam demanded. "What the hell was I thinking?"

"She's a demon Sam, period, alright? They want us dead, we want them dead."   

"Oh, that's funny; I remember that demon chick in Ohio, Casey? You didn't want her dead."

"Yeah, well she wasn't stringing me along like a fish on a hook."

"No one's stringing me along. Look, I know it's dangerous, that she is dangerous, but like it or not, she is useful."

"No, we kill her before she kills us."

"Kill her with what? The gun she fixed for us?"

"Whatever works."

"Dean, if she wants us dead, all she has to do is stop saving our lives."

"Look, we have to start looking at the big picture Dean, start thinking in strategies and- and moves ahead. It's not so simple, we're not- we're not just hunting anymore, we're at war."

"Are you feeling okay?" Dean asks.

"Uh, why are you always asking me that?" Sam sits at the foot of the bed I'm on.

"Because you're taking advice from a demon for starters, and by the way, you seem less and less worried about offing people, it used to eat you up inside."

"Yeah, and what has that gotten me?"

"Nothing, but it's just what you're supposed to do okay? We're supposed to drive in the friggin' car and friggin' argue about this stuff. You know, you go on about the sanctity of life and all that crap."

"Wait, so- so you're mad because I'm starting to agree with you?"

"No, I'm not mad, I'm- I'm- I'm worried, Sam." Dean moved to his bed and sits. "I'm worried because you're not acting like yourself."