Chapter Text
The rest stop is deserted at this hour, just a stretch of dark highway. Charlie sits at a picnic table, and she's up on her feet the moment the car pulls in.
Sam gets out first. "Hey, Charlie."
She's up from the picnic table, pulling him into a hug. You come around from the passenger side and she turns to you next, arms open.
"Hey."
"Hey." You squeeze back, genuinely glad to see her.
She steps back and looks between the two of you, warm but already suspicious.
"It is you." She glances at the car. "In a beat-up, prehistoric subcompact." Her eyes cut back to Sam. "But why are we meeting here? I could've come to the Death Star."
"No, no, this is, uh… this is better, actually." Sam shifts his weight. "We're not gonna be working in the bunker, so…"
You look down at the ground. You'd known this part was coming and you still don't love it.
"Uh-huh. What is this about, again? You were kind of… vague."
"Okay, so, here's the thing." Sam's voice drops, the way it does when he's carrying something heavy. "Dean is not getting any better. I feel like if we don't get the Mark off his arm, it's gonna eat him up."
"I get it, but what are we gonna do about it?"
"I got ahold of a codex which is sort of a-a collection of supernatural code-breaking tools, and it should help crack The Book of the Damned."
"That would be awesome if the book, you know, actually existed."
"It does." The word comes out of you before Sam can speak, quiet and a little apologetic. You look at Sam.
He turns away from Charlie. "I, uh… I swapped it out right before it looked like I burned it."
"Okay. Well, Dean wanted it burned, so is he pissed?"
Sam turns his head back and gives her a look.
"Of course. He doesn't know."
Charlie rolls her eyes, head and all. "Geez. The two of you."
You step forward, trying to bridge the gap, trying to make Charlie understand even though you're not entirely sure you understand it yourself.
"Sam was just trying to…"
But Sam cuts in, his voice urgent, defensive, carrying the weight of decisions made in desperation.
"Charlie, he's not himself. He's not. He would try and stop me. He's given up. Look, I called in an expert to… to use the codex, but it turns out it's sort of… encoded also, so I thought you might help… move things along faster."
The words tumble out like he's been rehearsing this justification, like he needs her to understand that this isn't about deception. It's about survival.
Charlie's expression hardens, her voice sharp with a clarity that comes from being on the outside looking in.
"Behind Dean's back. After Dean told us the stupid book would kick our asses if we mess with it. I… is there any part of this that doesn't reek?"
You can't entirely argue with that.
Sam doesn't flinch from her judgment, but his next words carry a warning wrapped in an incentive.
"Did I mention you'll be working with one of the most dangerous witches in the world?"
Charlie shakes her head. "I don't know, Sam."
You nod, agreement immediate because this feels wrong in your gut even if you can't articulate exactly why.
"Sam, maybe the three of us can convince Dean…"
"He won't." Sam's voice is flat, certain, carrying the exhaustion of someone who's already had this argument in his head a thousand times. "He's not going to let us use the book. Trust me. I know how stubborn he is."
You exhale slowly, the truth of that settling over you like a weight.
"You're right. He has his mind made up and he's not going to change it. But Sam, with the Mark… he's really going to lose it if he finds out."
The words hang in the air, the acknowledgment of what they're really risking here. Not just the danger of the book, but Dean's trust, Dean's stability, Dean's already tenuous grip on the person he used to be.
Sam's face is drawn, haunted, but his voice carries a terrible certainty.
"As far as I can tell, this is… our only shot at saving him. If we don't take it… he's gone."
Charlie looks away, her expression unhappy, turning it over. She doesn't like this. Because Dean specifically asked them not to, and here they are doing it anyway.
You sigh, the sound carrying defeat and recognition and reluctant acceptance all at once.
"The Winchester Playbook."
Bobby's voice comes back clear as day: Well, that's a page right out of the Winchester playbook, isn't it?