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"Heeeyyy!" Dale (one of the local hunters) greeted me as I walked behind the bar in my cut up Styx T-shirt I stole from Dean back at the bunker and jeans, "you're in early!"
"Yep! Here till 11 still!" I assured him he wouldn't be losing his favorite bartender before he usually did.
"Oh? Even with the Winchesters in town?" He asked raising his eyebrow.
Ethan suddenly weaseled his way into the seat next to Dale and chuckled, "yeah why aren't you and that pretty haired one gettin it on? You barely see each other!"
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose in embarrassment as I formulated my next lie. It was easy to talk about Sam when he wasn't there, "He and Dean are doing prep stuff for our little barn visit tonight. I highly doubt any of that would be happening."
"Did you two get in a fight?" Ethan asked, "I'm picking up some not happy vibes"
"That's an understatement ...." I mumbled, technically not lying.
"What is it WW3 or something?" Dale asked as he held out his glass for a refill.
"More like the awkward peace treaty negotiations..." I sighed as I poured his whiskey.
The night dragged on a lot like this, with the role of bartender/psychiatrist being reversed as the guys tried giving me guy advice. I just laughed it off and tried subtly changing the subject when it got uncomfortable.
By 10:45 I was ready to drop and the Rush was leaving.
"Hey! Little Red!" My boss called from the back, "you can leave, I'll lock the front."
"Thanks Bill!" I called nearly sprinting out the door to my truck.
Twenty minutes later I was parked next to the Impala at the barn, gathering my weapons and making sure my containers of salt and holy water were full.
"Alright. You and Sam take the big barn and I will take the little one. Poughkeepsie is still the word. Don't die kiddos." Dean grunted as if no time had passed between then and our last hunt.
I gave him my best death glare as he winked at me before leaving Sam and I alone.
"Lets roll." I sighed shaking the can of glow in the dark spray paint as I trudged up to the barn. Sam followed quietly without so much as a glance at me but I could see he was paying utmost attention to his other senses.
Upon entering the barn I made a beeline for the horse that had tried to bite me.
"Christo." I said, expecting a twitch but only receiving an excited nicker from the gelding.
"Not quite." A voice from the other end of the barn cooed, "I'm much more fun."
The stereotypical pretty trust fund boy waltzed up to me with a grin just barely reaching his glassy black eyes.
"Why kill the horses?" I asked, not particularly caring about his gloating or what he was going to try with me. I was over letting demons ask me questions.
"To make sure mine win. I have a large amount of money on some of them which supports my torturing habit." he explained.
"Well isn't that nice." I smiled sweetly, "Exorscizamus te omnis imundus spiritus..."
I continued the exorcism until he began to smoke out then raised my hand in a 'stop' motion causing the cloud to swirl into a ball of seething vapor. Snapping my fingers I lit it up like a christmas tree and the vapor fell to the ground as ash.
"Did you just... kill a demon? Without hurting the meatsuit?" Sam asked in awe as he checked the pulse of the trust fund kid.
"Yeah... New trick I figured out." I answered as an unexpected sheepish smile spread its way across my face.
He huffed a laugh as he held back his own smile standing up and dragging the meatsuit to sit up against the stall door.
"This seems too easy..." I muttered nervously looking around.
"Maybe the demon was like how Crowley used to be before he got entrepenureal." Sam offered.
I shrugged and began the walk around muttering 'christo' to every horse and getting no reaction. After we were sure we were in the clear we headed back to the vehicles, or rather the Impala because my truck was gone.
"What the fuck?" I stated as we reached the car.
Fucking Dean is going to fucking die.
"Of course..." Sam sighed, "Get in, I'll drive you to the truck."
I loaded my things into the back and swung in the passenger seat as I had done so many times before and for a moment it felt good. Then the awkward silence began.
We maintained the stalemate for a good ten minutes, probably a world record for uncomfortable.
"So I finally got around to reading those Sherlock Holmes books." Sam declared, finally breaking the silence but keeping both hands on the wheel in a white knuckle hold.
"Oh? Did you like them?" I was so nervous I thought I could burst.
"Yeah. Doyle is a genius. I did some digging on him and I'm almost 100% sure he was a hunter or Man of Letters." Sam gushed, he sounded almost relieved to be talking.
"That makes sense. With his occult obsession and all... I've always thought he should have been named the most interesting man in the world not what's-his-face." I mused slowly relaxing into the conversation. As long as it was only about Doyle I could totally do this.
"The man sure was diversified. I really liked the BBC adaptation." Sam commented.
This is good. Nice chill conversation.
"It's the best, hands down. They have amazing acting, especially in the end of season two." It was my turn to gush this time. I caught myself before I launched into my obsession over the cast and all the little ticks they did that made the show bloom.
"Yeah.... I was really disappointed that the phone call was all Sherlock left John with though." Sam mused.
"Well he had to protect him." I argued.
I suddenly don't like the angle he is taking.
"Yes, but don't you think if Sherlock would have let John know what he was thinking they could have worked up a better plan?"
Oh fuck. He's doing it.
"No. John wouldn't have agreed with Sherlock." I was now picking my words very carefully, "It's not like Sherlock wanted to leave. He had just found his family."
Yup. I am definitely Holmes in this situation.
Sam nodded, taking his time to put his thoughts into words, "The hell John was put through while he was gone wasn't fair though."
"It was for his safety..." I mumbled.
"But don't you think he would rather have had Sherlock than safety? No matter how relative this safety is?" Sam pointed out.
"Sherlock was being a selfish ass hole and didn't want to be the reason the person most important to him died." I snapped.
"You're right. He was." Sam agreed nodding as we came to a stop light.
"Which completely warranted John's reaction. If anyone more socially ept than Sherlock got his welcoming they wouldn't come back out of fear of rejection." I managed to keep my voice level as I spoke even though I felt like my insides were being sand blasted.
"I believe the book's reaction was more realistic. He should have rejoiced over getting his best friend back."
uh.... what?
"But Sherlock wasn't the same when he came back." I murmured.
"Doesn't matter." Sam refused as he accelerated through a yellow light.
"I... I think we ran out of character parallels...." I whispered as I stared at my lap.
"I'm out." He agreed, effectively reinstating the awkward silence as the effective policy until we reached the motel.
My truck wasn't there but there was a note taped to the door of their room with a big "@ BAR" written on it so that we could read it from our seats.
We got out anyways but before I could pass the front bumper Sam was in front of me.
"Evelynn please come home." He begged with tears welling in his eyes. "You don't have to come on hunts with us if it worries you and you can make us take whatever kind of crazy precautions you want, just please come back. I'm a complete mess without you." He stopped to sniff but launched into another rambling sentence as tears began welling in my eyes to match his, "I haven't slept hardly at all, I can't when you aren't there. I can't get you out of my head and I know you think you're helping by leaving but I can barely get myself dressed without you." He reached out and gently grasped my hand in both of his like he had when I had left. "Please." He whispered closing his eyes as if he was afraid to see my face.
My mind was numb for a moment. My breath caught in my throat and my mind went to war with itself.
"Sam... I-" I took a steadying breath before continuing, "I don't know how not to be a selfish ass hole." I admitted.
He just barely hinted at a smile, still not opening his eyes, as he squeezed my hand lightly, "That's okay. We can be selfish ass holes together." He offered.
The war that was going on in my head and causing an inhibiting ruccus was dulled to background noise as Sam opened his eyes and locked onto mine. It felt like he was reading my every thought through them as the seconds dragged on.
Finally I couldn't take it anymore and broke down into a sob, wrapping my arms around his torso and clinging to him for dear life. "Okay. Okay. Okay." I sobbed over and over again as Sam rocked us back and forth pressing me closer to him and keeping his lips pressed to my forehead as his breathing sent hot air flowing over my hair. I had missed that sensation more than I realized.
After a moment or two we pulled back and looked up at each other.
"I missed you." I whispered through my tears as our lips brushed together.
"I missed you more." Sam corrected as he pressed his lips to mine in the sweetest and most tender kiss I had ever experienced.
When he went to pull back I cupped my hand behind his neck and pulled him into me deepening the kiss and igniting the fire I had kept as a smoldering coal the past few months.
Our kiss became more hungry and Sam's hands began to roam making me shiver with anticipation. I moved my hand from his neck to his collar and slowly unbuttoned the first two before Sam pulled back with a chuckle.
"Ehvs, we are still in the parking lot." He chided playfully, kissing my forehead.
"Well then turn the hell around and get the door unlocked. I've got seven months of pent up frustration to take out on you, Samson" I ordered turning him around and marching us to the door.
"Yes ma'am"