likely_evil | In which Sam calls an old friend...

After the Pastor left, and Sam got Cas comfortable on the other bed, Sam walked outside to get a soda. He just stared at the machine, then finally punch the button for the drink. Then he punched it again, and again and again until the machine had a large fist sized series of dents and Sam was using the bottle to ice his knuckles as he walked back to the room.

He was trapped there. Well, not really trapped, but Cas needed to rest and recover from whatever the whore had done to him. And Dean...

So this was what it felt like to be abandoned. Not just Dean telling him not to come back, or saying goodbye over a phone because it was better apart, or even Dean dying. This was deliberate, and now Sam understood what Dean had to feel every time he had walked out on him.

He tried to call Dean again, but of course he wasn't answering. But he needed someone to talk to. He had already called Bobby to tell him, and he and Cas would make their way there in the morning. There was nothing they could do right now, not without knowing where Dean was. Stupid Nokian symbols.

He rolled the ball over his contact list, then stopped when it highlighted the name FAITH. God, it had been months since they had talked, since the time she had been possessed and tried to kill him and Dean in fact.

Sighing, he hit send and wondered if she would even pick up. Right now he could just use a good, sober friend to talk to for awhile.

Being possessed hadn't been a barrel of laughs. It had been one giant fucking nightmare after another and it had taken the Winchesters exorcising her (which was also a whole hell of a lot of not fucking fun)to wake her up.

She'd gone into serious hiding after that. It had taken prison to help her get her head on straight when she'd fucked up the first time, and even though it hadn't been her behind the wheel when Naamah had gone on her killing spree, it had still been blood on Faith's hands, and Faith's body. There was no way she was going back to prison so she'd isolated herself. Her own personal solitary confinement. It hadn't kept her from keeping up with what was going on in the world. She'd had a high roller taking up space for months, all the knowledge of that bitch stuck in her head and not a damn thing she could do about it.

So she patrolled. She patrolled and she slayed and she took out every ounce of aggression she had on every single demonic son of a bitch. Until her phone rang. The decision was made before she'd had the chance to really think better of it.

"Talk fast, Winchester."

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