"Now hold on...we're looking for what?"
Dean was out, didn't really say where to, and Sam had me dragged out of bed in the middle of the day to help him look through files and tapes throughout the bunker.
I rubbed my eyes, having spent most of my time the last week, hiding in my cave and binge watching/drinking.
"Rowena said the witch who wrote a codex that could crack any coded spell work, was killed by the Men of Letters," he answered, already thumbing through a file cabinet.
"So?" I yawned.
"So? So they would've confiscated and hoarded anything she had, and brought it here," he elaborated with annoyance.
"Gotcha..." I said, cracking my fingers by linking and pushing them forward,"if something like that is here, I can find it pretty quick."
Sam stopped what he was doing and stared at me expectantly. "Ok...? So...do it?"
"Where's my coffee Samuel?" I retorted, folding my arms.
He rolled his eyes and motioned me to follow him to the kitchen.
While he fussed with the old, belligerent coffee machine, I took a hefty chug of my personal blood jug in the fridge. Just so I wasn't tempted to bite anyone, as I was already cranky. By the time I was done with it and wiping my lip, Sam was ready with coffee in his hand for me.
We leaned against the counter together, with him pretending not to watch me. As if I didn't feel his heart's uncertainty.
"So does this mean you're back on board? No more running off to...cremate yourself?"
I smirked slightly into my cup with a shrug. "It beats riding around with Cas."
He returned the smirk half heartedly.
"Yeah. According to him, you're alright without him now."
"Is that so?" I asked, deciding to go sit at the little table on the other side of the kitchen.
"You helped save his life," he reminded me.
I sighed. "Force of habit."
"Sure," he said flatly, moving to come sit with me. I didn't hear much but whispers in his head, but his body language and hesitant little feelings told me he wasn't done interrogating me.
"Something on your mind, Sam?" I asked warily.
My brother kept his head down, likely looking for the right words.
"Hazel, I've been pretty good about respecting your choice..."
I rolled my eyes. "Here we go..."
"I just don't see how Purgatory, living on blood, and being a danger to everyone around you is better than the alternative."
"And what is the alternative?" I retorted disdainfully.
Sam looked up then, a more stern expression than I expected slapped on. "Death said you'd be safe."
"Oh good, you've been talking to Cas," I groaned.
"Well he's right, Hazel," he snapped quietly, "this is a mistake."
I couldn't find anything to say, so I bit my lips in and turned my head. Sam pulsed some sympathy my way, touching my arm.
"Look, I'm sure not knowing where you're going someday is...scary-"
"Its fucking terrifying, Sam," I popped off loudly.
"I know...but think about it, for a second," he began, pausing to wait for me to actually pay attention, "You're letting a fear, change you. A-and you're letting it make you angry over what you lost, instead of enjoying what you still have."
