Marked (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {2}

5. Back to the Old Ways (Sort of)

5. Back to the Old Ways (Sort of)

"You sure you don't want me to drive?" I ask Sam as we're in the Impala.

Since I've come back, the one thing I've missed is my truck. I've missed it dearly. I forget what it looks like now, since I've been in Hell for way longer than I'd have liked. Since Sam decided to accept that I'm me again, I got the idea to go fetch my truck, that way, should my brothers be on a case and I catch wind of another, I can go without trouble. Dean opted to stay behind—probably his way of saying, Tell Sam the truth. He doesn't know.

Sam doesn't know I'm a demon, only Dean and Cas do. I guess Hannah too, and Franco. Sam hadn't heard me the last night Demon-Dean was around to play. Is he ready to know the truth?

"What do you think I'm gonna do, Jo?" Sam says playfully. We've got the windows rolled down a bit, letting a breeze kick around inside.

I bite down on my lip. "I don't know. I just thought, the last time we were in the Impala together..."

The playful atmosphere dies by the knife of tension. I realized when I got into the passenger seat that it was clean. How long it took Sam to scrub out my blood stain—because I was sure there was some the night Dean and I died—I couldn't begin to guess. It had to have been hard on him.

"Well, that, and I'm not sure I trust you driving with one arm." I try to get the teasing manner back into the car.

"I've been driving just fine with it."

"So, what? Is it broken?"

"Just a sprain." He clears his throat.

"How'd you get it?"

"Does it matter?"

"My little brother has his arm in a sling." I grimace. "Yes, Sam, it matters." We never touch on the subject again. I look down at my hands, hands that really don't belong to me. It lights up a light bulb in my head. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I'm a little off my game with hunting, but, you got an explanation as to why I'm riding in this body and not my own?" He doesn't respond right away, which tells me something bad. He tries to act like he doesn't see me staring him down expectantly. I know he knows why. "Sam," I say firmly.

"I...I thought you weren't gonna come back," he says quietly. "I mean, you'd been so reluctant to get pulled back in. I just figured you wanted to be a one-and-out. Done deal. No second chances."

"I guess I proved us both wrong," I say weakly.

"You didn't want this, did you?"

"What?"

"Coming back, no matter what body you found yourself in."

I rest back in the seat, wishing the Impala's purr could melt away this tense conversation. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

"I knew it."

"Would you?" I ask a bit bitingly. "I mean, you had a new start. No hunting. No supernatural. No monsters. And then, by some ungodly chance, you're swept back into it and found yourself dead. Would you want to go through that pain of being resurrected only to be at risk for dying again, and repeating the cycle? I...I didn't."

"I was in your position once, Jo." Sam's hands tighten around the wheel. "I got out. I had a future going for me. And...and you know what? I got pulled back in, just like you. I died, just like you."