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THE DOOR THUDDED shut and Sam slowly let out the breath he had been holding. Dean had finally left, though Sam had no idea if he was actually going to go to a bar to try and get either drunk or laid or if he was going to just sit in the Impala and watch the motel room door. He knew Dean knew he was hiding something, and he knew angels like Uriel would have been whispering in Dean's ear about just what they wanted him to believe Sam was hiding, and while the lack of trust hurt he knew it was at least partly due to the manipulation of the angels and whatever all Dean had been through down in Hell that he still couldn't talk to Sam about. With a sigh, Sam pulled out his hip flask and took a slow, careful sip, letting the liquid inside trickle over his tongue and down his throat like a tease to his thirst.
"What's that?"
Right. Jimmy. James Novak, the man who had said yes to an angel and was now stuck with lackluster Winchester bodyguards because the angel who had been in residence in his body had been yanked out and back up to Heaven for "reeducation". The man who had left his family without a word on Castiel's say-so and now wanted desperately to go back to them.
"The flask, I mean," Jimmy added, when Sam lowered the flask but remained silent. "Castiel always seemed puzzled whenever he saw you drinking from it, but wouldn't tell me what it was besides not being alcohol."
Figured.
"It's holy water, actually," Sam answered, extending the flask out to Jimmy, who took it and sniffed before handing it back. "This whole Apocalypse thing and what Castiel called me the first time we met... it brought up some bad memories from before Dean died."
"What Castiel..." Jimmy started, frowning in confusion. "'The boy with the demon blood'?"
"A few drops into my mouth when I was six months old," Sam nodded with a humorless smile. "Straight from a Prince of Hell who did the same to a hundred other kids with natural psychic gifts to set us up for his own personal Hunger Games, which is apparently enough to mark me forever as an abomination in the eyes of Heaven. Or at least the eyes of asshole angels like Uriel."
"That's awful," Jimmy whispered. He actually looked like he meant it, too, his blue eyes all wide and sorrowful like a sad puppy. Sam looked away before he could get drawn in by those eyes and shrugged.
"It is what it is," he said, not sure what else he could say to it. "I went through a cleansing ritual after this demon chick found me and tried to get me to drink her blood as a means of training my powers, got a few extra tattoos that keep demons from even being able to touch me, but who even knows how deeply entrenched Azazel's blood is in my body after twenty-five years? So. I dunno for sure if the holy water is actually doing anything for me beyond basic hydration, but it makes me feel better without hitting the booze and it's not like we're in too much danger of running out."
"I guess," Jimmy said. He sounded a little distracted, and a moment later he asked, "You have tattoos?"
"Several," Sam confirmed, nodding. When Jimmy made a curious noise, he tugged the neck of his t-shirt aside to show off the large pentacle surrounded by solar rays. "This one, Dean and I both have. It's to keep us from being possessed by demons. He didn't know about my plans for the other warding tattoos I have when we got them done, but I'm hardly going to say that having the extra is overkill."
"Why's that?" Jimmy asked, then winced. "Er, if you don't... sorry, that was kind of invasive..."
"I don't mind," Sam said gently, offering a wry little smile when Jimmy looked up. "It's a natural question given the subject, and it's not like I wouldn't say so if you did cross a line. As to why my caution.... well, on top of what Azazel did to me and what Ruby tried to get me to do, there was this other demon, Meg, who actually possessed me." He rolled up his sleeve, showing the scar on his forearm. "Branded me to keep herself from being exorcised the normal way and then used my body to murder several hunters. While I was forced to watch. So when it became obvious that the demons really wanted me, whether as their prophesied 'Boy King' or as a weapon to take out their own enemies, I did my best to make sure nothing can ever take my body for a joyride without my permission ever again."
"Oh," Jimmy mumbled, looking down at the carpet. "Guess that explains a lot... You must not think much of me, huh?"
Hoo boy....
"I think," Sam said carefully, "that giving unthinking permission to an Angel of the Lord without asking any questions about why or for how long after years of indoctrination to trust that they're the good guys and will use your body for a noble purpose is a very different dynamic from having absolutely no choice or even so much as a warning before having your body forcefully taken over by a malevolent power you know will only use you to bring about destruction. I wouldn't have done it, not without asking a lot of questions first and maybe ensuring whatever conditions I had for my agreement would be honored and adhered to, but I'm also a lot more personally traumatized by the whole demon blood thing and the possession incident. That's my hang up, not yours or anyone else's. And I rather suspect that if Castiel comes back and asks you if you would serve again, you'd have a few more questions and conditions of your own this time."
"If he comes back," Jimmy repeated, frowning pensively. "Whatever that 'reeducation' thing they're doing to him is, it didn't sound like a quick process."
It wasn't, but Sam had no way of explaining how he knew that, or how he knew that Castiel had been through reeducation so many times that it was starting to lose its effect. He also couldn't explain the certainty he had that Castiel would be subjected to the "quick and dirty" version to get him back out and working Heaven's wedge between Sam and Dean again as soon as possible. Instead he shrugged and then checked the clock.
"You hungry?" he asked. When Jimmy just blinked at him, he added, "I know you just had those burgers an hour ago, but I could go for something with less grease and more green, and there's a Wendy's down the street."
And it would give him a chance to check if Dean really was sitting in the Impala or not. He hadn't heard the car drive off, after all, though that didn't rule out Dean walking to the bar if he planned to get smashed enough not to want to get behind the wheel of his baby. Thinking of something else, he gave Jimmy a quick once over, then got up and reached for his duffel bag, pulling out a pair of jeans and a blue flannel shirt before tossing them to Jimmy.
"You've been wearing those same clothes since the night Castiel recruited you," he said when the other man just stared at him blankly. "Take a shower, put on the clothes, and we'll see about washing yours tomorrow when the laundromat opens."
"I could just wash them at home," Jimmy tried, then slumped when Sam gave him a dry look. "Worth a shot. But I'm absolutely using all the hot water."
"If that's what you need to do to feel settled back into your own skin, go right ahead," Sam told him seriously, earning a startled look from Jimmy that quickly morphed into one of chagrin. "At the very least, the change of clothes will stand out less in case there are demons lurking around."
"Right," Jimmy muttered despondently. He still took the clothes and himself into the tiny (and windowless) motel bathroom and closed the door behind him, so Sam counted that as a win.
With the late hour and his brother supposedly out at a bar, this might normally be when Sam would get himself stripped down and washed up for bed, wanting to get as much sleep as he could before either the nightmares or Dean's drunken stumbling inevitably woke him. The implied promise of taking Jimmy for Wendy's kept him from doing so, and instead prompted him to write a note to that effect for Dean in case his brother had actually gone out and came back while they were gone. He added that he had his emergency phone with him but that Dean shouldn't wait up for them. Whether or not he listened would be another story, but at least Sam was giving him the option.
He tried not to feel either bitter or guilty about it.
The guilt roared louder along with the uptick of his pulse when Jimmy emerged from the bathroom barefoot and with damp hair and heat flushed skin beneath Sam's jeans and shirt. It made that primal hind brain that noticed beautiful people in a distinctly carnal way sit up and take stock of this man wearing his clothes, and the resulting curl of heat in his gut made Sam look away quickly. To cover, in the hopes that Jimmy wouldn't notice, he dug out a pair of his socks and held them out with what he hoped was a neutral expression. "Here, sorry... forgot about socks."
"Thanks," Jimmy mumbled, cheeks oddly flushed as he took the socks and gingerly sat down on the edge of one of the beds (Sam's usual bed, in fact, which made Sam feel a bit warm) to put the socks on. Sam averted his eyes from the pale arch of Jimmy's bare foot and returned to packing his jacket pockets with a few essentials he'd rather not be caught without if things went south and the demons found them. He couldn't carry too much since bringing his entire duffel would be suspicious, but he could probably get away with taking his laptop bag. There was a chance that the Wendy's might even have a WiFi network Sam could connect to, which would help a lot; the motel they were in only had the phone lines and charged extra for their use.
A glance at Jimmy showed that he had the socks on and was starting to put on his shoes. Quickly, Sam scribbled out a note and passed it over to him, watching him from under his lashes as he read. "About ready?" he asked as Jimmy's eyes widened and then snapped up to meet his. One finger over his lips and a tilt of his head towards Dean's bed and Jimmy mercifully understood.
"Just gotta grab my belt," he said in a remarkably steady tone, though he still sounded a bit subdued. He also shoved the crumpled note into the pocket of the jeans, which Sam appreciated.
"Take your time, no hurry," Sam said easily even as he began packing up his laptop bag. "You mind if I bring the laptop with us? This place doesn't have WiFi."
"If you think you can surf and eat at the same time, I'm not in a position to say no," Jimmy pointed out as he quickly transferred his belt and the contents of his pockets to the borrowed jeans before glancing at the discarded trench coat. "Should I leave the coat?"
"Probably," Sam admitted, digging out his spare jacket and tossing it to Jimmy. "Castiel never took it off, so it could stand to be aired out for a while, even if he was putting a halt on things like, er, sweating."
"Great," Jimmy sighed, but shrugged into the jacket and then dug through the coat pockets, transferring a wallet and a set of keys that Sam hadn't actually known were in there. It was probably a minor miracle that they hadn't been lost along the way somehow, and from the expression that crossed Jimmy's face the thought was occurring to him as well. After a moment, he shook his head and straightened. "Ready when you are."
"Let's go," Sam nodded, pocketing one of the motel room keys. He slung the laptop bag strap over his shoulder and opened the door, making note of the Impala still in the parking spot in front of the door. When Jimmy stepped out and closed the door behind them, Sam turned and began walking in the direction of the Wendy's, the other man falling into step beside him. After a few seconds, Jimmy shivered slightly and moved a bit closer to Sam, who hesitated only a moment before putting an arm around him to draw him into his sphere of body heat.
"Sorry," Jimmy said, head ducking awkwardly. He didn't move away, though, and even moved a little closer when Sam gently squeezed the shoulder under his hand.
"It's fine," Sam assured him, then pitched his voice lower and murmured, "He's following."
"Oh," Jimmy mumbled back, and drew in a long breath before slowly letting it out again in a clear attempt to make himself relax.
Honestly, Sam sympathized.
The lights of the Wendy's parking lot cast their shadows starkly across the pavement as they walked up. They had a window now where their "stalker" would wait and circle around to approach from a different direction, but it wasn't much of one. Sam held the door open for Jimmy as he gave the interior a visual sweep, and stepped up to his side as they approached the bored teenager behind the till.
"Hi, welcome to Wendy's, what can I get for ya?" the teenager recited with only passable animation.
"Apple pecan salad, large coffee, and... large fries?" Sam glanced at Jimmy, who perked up a bit and nodded.
"And a large chocolate frosty, please?" he requested, more to Sam than the cashier, smiling when Sam nodded agreeably.
"Anything else?" the cashier asked. When both Sam and Jimmy shook their heads, she said, "Eleven ninety-two. Cash or credit?"
Sam handed over twelve dollars in cash and dropped the eight cents into the charity box by the register, then took the receipt and the little plastic placard that were offered and he and Jimmy retreated to one of the booth tables by the wall.
"Is he gonna come in?" Jimmy asked the table, hunching in on himself before making himself sit more normally.
"Bright lights, big windows," Sam pointed out with a shrug as he set the laptop bag on the table and made a show of pulling it out and opening it up, angling it so that the both of them could see the screen if Jimmy wanted. "He'll stand outside and pretend to smoke a cigarette or make a phone call while watching us until he's sure we really are just getting food and using the free WiFi, and then go back to the motel to collect the burner phone he left connected by the bed and pretend he wasn't spying on us."
"That's kinda messed up," Jimmy pointed out hesitantly. Sam snorted, then laughed.
"Nothing kinda about it," he said, shaking his head. "It's very messed up, and it's stupid and irrational and completely predictable for how we were raised. For the record, how we were raised was also seriously messed up."
"Why do I not find this expression of self-awareness reassuring?" Jimmy muttered. He fell silent when their cashier brought over a tray with their food and drinks and a handful of cream and sugar packets for Sam's coffee, waiting until she retreated with the number placard before snagging a french fry out of the carton. "So what's the plan for while we wait for your brother to stop being a creeper?"
"Funny cat videos?" Sam offered with a shrug as he dumped half a packet of sugar and two creamers into his coffee, then blinked as he watched Jimmy pop the lid off his frosty and dip the fry into the frozen chocolate milk. "Really?"
"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Jimmy said with a haughty sniff.
"I'll take your word for it," Sam demurred with a shake of his head as he set about connecting to the WiFi. Frankly, after some of the things he could remember having eaten as a kid, he probably had no room to criticize Jimmy's taste in treats.
Whatever gods governed internet use - and Sam wasn't ruling out that being an actual thing - he found a good half-hour long compilation of funny cat videos fairly quickly and the two of them settled into watching various cats doing silly things like running on only their fore paws or being flung up towards the ceiling of a room and catching the crossbeam with their claws. Sam made fairly short work of his salad but lingered over the coffee, occasionally snagging a fry for himself and trying not to let on how much he was watching Jimmy as much as the cats. From the way Jimmy's cheeks stayed a fairly consistent shade of pink despite not looking away from the computer screen, he had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn't being as subtle as he probably should.
It didn't help that the whole thing was giving Sam serious flashbacks to one of the few dates he had ever been on as a teenager in high school. It had been more of a pity date than anything, one of those instances where Dean had set Sam up with a girl in a bid to get him laid that inevitably fell flat. Sam hadn't been able to afford much more than a full combo meal and a milkshake that he and his date had split between them, and they had barely said a word to each other the whole time for how awkward it had been. Complete with Dean being an overprotective jerk watching through the window, Sam noted with a silent sigh as he caught the shifting reflection of a familiar figure in a leather jacket in the window. He grabbed another fry to distract himself, and then blinked as Jimmy abruptly reached over and stole his coffee for a sip.
"Blessed be the caffeine hit," Jimmy muttered as he returned the cup, leaving Sam to duck his head in a desperate attempt to hide the way his face felt suffused with heat. It took him several seconds before he could bring himself to lift the cup and take another sip for himself, uncomfortably conscious of his lips touching the place Jimmy's lips had just been.
Stop it, he scolded himself mentally. He's married and wants to get back to his wife and daughter! You want him to be able to get back to them! The whole awkward date atmosphere is completely incidental!
Sam stifled a sigh and twisted sideways so he could lean his arm onto the table. Like it or not, intentional or not, there was still that deeply ingrained cultural expectation surrounding sharing a meal with someone for the first time, a heavy subconscious tension and anticipation of the next time skin would brush skin after that which could reveal a soul-deep, shared connection manifested in a full-body jolt often described as like touching a live power line. The soulmate shock, it was called, and Sam had never felt that before. Not even with Jess, and definitely not with that girl back in high school whose name he couldn't even remember now.
And I'm unlikely to feel it this time, either, he reminded himself firmly, keeping his attention towards the laptop with one eye on the cats and the other on that distorted reflection of Dean in the window as his brother faked a phone call - or maybe even actually called someone, possibly Bobby - while he pretended he wasn't watching his little brother and his guardian angel's former vessel on a not-date in a Wendy's at ten at night on a Thursday.
And he had once lamented the lack of having a normal conversation instead of talking about a killer truck.
The first video compilation ended before Dean was done watching them. Sam caught Jimmy's eyes and nodded to the screen, silently asking if he wanted to watch another. His resolve was promptly tested when Jimmy bit his lower lip as he considered before nodding in agreement. Sam fumbled a little to use the touch pad to click the next video option, and had to stop himself from actually praying that Dean would give up and go back to the motel room soon. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he nudged his coffee towards Jimmy and managed a quick, hopefully normal-seeming smile when the offer was accepted.
"Still there?" Jimmy asked, and sighed when Sam nodded slightly. "Where the hell does he get off being such a controlling ass?"
"Hell," Sam deadpanned, shooting Jimmy a small smile that probably looked closer to a grimace. "I did say the way we were raised was pretty messed up. Dad put way too much pressure on Dean to look after and protect me, even worse when he'd disappear for weeks at a time leaving Dean as the only one around who even could look after me. The asshole sold his soul to bring me back from the dead, that's how badly Dad screwed him up inside. And then he comes back from the dead, pulled out of very literal Hell by an actual angel, a being he's never believed existed until he was staring at one, and finds me drinking holy water and sleeping in the basement our surrogate uncle turned into a demon-proof panic room, and then gets told by the angel who pulled him out that the Biblical Apocalypse is on the horizon and he needs to keep an even closer eye on me for reasons he won't explain? His protectiveness has been cranked into overdrive ever since. Only reason he hasn't just told me to stay in the panic room and sit out trying to save the seals is because he knows I would sooner kick his ass than leave him without me at his back when the world is literally in danger of ending, demons be damned. Twice over."
"It probably doesn't help any that the angel in question was wearing my face and body to say and do all that, huh?" Jimmy mumbled, looking down at the table. "I'm sorry….."
"Don't be," Sam murmured with a slight head shake. "You aren't responsible for Castiel's words or actions, and you're definitely not responsible for my or Dean's reactions to him or any other angel. That's all on them, and us, and I'm sorry if I've made you feel at all like I blamed you for any of it."
"You haven't," Jimmy assured him with a weak little smile that didn't quite make it past his mouth. "You've been… very kind."
More than I feel like I deserve, Sam could almost hear, which was probably closer to more than Dean has been in his pique and paranoia.
It was still an awkward feeling. Sam didn't feel like he was being especially kind so much as just being decent. The world kind of sucked enough already without literal Hell threatening to break loose and it rarely cost Sam anything more than his own self-control over his own stress and upset to just… not be a dick. Even if someone was a dick to him, it was just less effort to ignore it and not feed the unpleasantness.
To not feed into the darkness in his blood.
"Looks like Dean's finally given up," he said after a moment, noting that the reflected figure in the window was finally gone. Jimmy twitched like he was about to turn around to check before he thought better of it, making Sam have to bite back a smile as he quickly switched tabs from cat videos to the website for Greyhound. He scanned the map of the bus routes, then checked for the nearest bus station and the times. "And we're in luck. There's a bus leaving the nearest station in about an hour heading in the direction of Detroit. It's a five minute drive away, which means probably a forty-five minute walk."
"Detroit?" Jimmy asked, startled, and Sam clicked back to the map and pointed at the bus route shown, starting at Detroit and tracing down to where they were.
"Goes right through Pontiac," he said, closing the lid of the laptop and starting to pack it away in his bag. "If we buy the tickets for Detroit, it may throw off anyone trying to track us that way and they won't notice if we get off to stretch our legs and just don't get back on again."
"It's really just that easy?" Jimmy mumbled, his cheeks flushing when Sam snorted softly.
"'Easy' is a matter of perspective," Sam assured him dryly as he stood up and collected their trash. "But yeah, pretty much. And I promise I won't let you get hurt if I can help it."
"I've never doubted that," Jimmy said softly, glancing up briefly as he moved to stand. Sam quickly shifted the rubbish to free up a hand to help the other man out of the booth, only a little surprised when Jimmy accepted the offered help and took his hand—
Ohh!
There had been a few times over the course of Sam's life, in high school and college particularly, when he had been treated to some friend or other trying to describe the moment of first connecting with their soulmate, the sharp and sudden shock that spread lightning fast through their bodies from the point of skin to skin contact and drove every other thought completely out of their mind, the two second paralysis that held them both motionless as the full weight of realization dawned. Sam had tried to imagine it, tried to think of how it might feel so if it ever did happen he wouldn't somehow miss it or mistake it for something else.
This was not something that could be mistaken. It felt as if his whole being was lit up from the inside, every single cell vibrating with the ringing shock of "Him! Here! Now! This is the one!" Even if Sam could have moved at all for those two seconds, he didn't think it would have occurred to him to try as he stared at Jimmy and Jimmy stared back—
…Jimmy was crying.
A hitch in his breathing, a shine in his eyes that Sam had seen too many times on the victims of monsters too overwhelmed and afraid by the trauma of their ordeal…
"Oh," Jimmy breathed, looking up at Sam as the tears gathered more. He blinked and they spilled down his cheeks unnoticed by anyone but Sam. "I thought… with those burgers earlier…."
"I didn't eat then," Sam murmured back, shaking his head. "It didn't count until…" He stopped, dropping his eyes to their still-clasped hands. "I'm sorry."
"What?" Jimmy blinked again, whatever expression his face was heading towards making a sharp detour into confusion as he looked up at Sam. "Sorry? Why--"
"We should get going," Sam broke in, suddenly not wanting to even hear the question that would start off the conversation Sam was suddenly very sure would happen, needed to happen, but he didn't…he couldn't… "The bus might be a little late, but it might also be early, and we don't want to miss catching it."
"The bus?" Jimmy repeated, then stilled. "Oh… right, to--"
"Detroit," Sam filled in, mindful of whoever or whatever else might be listening. Detroit, by way of Pontiac. Back to Jimmy's wife and daughter. Jimmy's face fell, his expression becoming pensive, and then he looked up sharply.
"You're still coming with me, right?" he asked earnestly, his hold on Sam's hand tightening like he was afraid Sam might actually pull away from him. He knew he should, but he still selfishly wanted to keep holding on, just a little longer… just to pretend….
"Yeah," he said at length, swallowing back the lump trying to form in his throat as he returned the squeeze before forcing himself to let go. "Yeah, I'm still coming with you."
His feet felt leaden, but he made himself step away to toss the trash in the bin. Jimmy was still sitting in the booth when he turned back, staring after Sam like he was afraid to look away. It didn't make any logical sense - the man had a wife and kid he'd been desperate to get back home to, for… someone's sake! - and yet it still made that traitorous little part of Sam's heart flutter with hope.
"Come on," he murmured, reaching for Jimmy's hand and trying not to think about the mix of relief and disappointment when the shock did not repeat. It never did, but still… "We can talk on the bus about… everything. For now… it's time to get you home."