11. Garber, Oklahoma

It was the quiet game with Sam and me. I didn't like it one bit. We kept pretty quiet during our hitchhiking rides. None of our drivers ever asked for anything in return, a refreshing change. We got lucky when it came to who gave us rides.

Our trip took us to a town called Garber, located in Oklahoma. It felt like ages since Sam separated himself from Dean. At least I was with him on this not-so-isolation trip. The first chance I'd get, I'd call Dean and tell him what was going on.

It didn't take us long to get settled into Garber. The town name didn't sound too appealing to me. The town was small, almost reminding me of River Pass, back in Colorado. I tried to erase those memories from my head. I needed to focus on the present, and Sam.

We got dropped off at the Great Plains Motel, our new hideout. We were lucky enough to get a room with two beds. Not that we wouldn't have shared a bed; it was just less awkward that way.

Sam took some time to burn some of his old things in the sink: old fake IDs that I'd seen, old credit cards. I could use some of those for myself. I wonder if the search spread to Oklahoma. I wrinkled my nose. I shouldn't dwell on that too much.

"So, new start?" I asked Sam. "How're you going to manage that?"

"Got to work some place."

"Oh, so we're trying to be Mr. Normal now. What kind of job did you have in mind?"

"Any that I can take. It might be good for you to look into one too."

"Maybe." I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wasn't too keen on the idea. Interviews meant names and other important information. I couldn't let that get leaked out. God forbid the wrong people caught wind and came looking for me.

"You want to tag along?"

I pursed my lips. "I don't know. I might just stay in today, properly rest and everything."

"Whatever you want."

"Just come back in one piece, and if at all possible, sober."

"I'm not an alcoholic, Dakota."

"Hey, I don't know what you do." I put my hands up in surrender. "But you owe me—"

"Yes, I remember. I'll give you story time soon."

"Thank you. Now, change out of whatever that is and go job hunt!"

* * *

Sam finding himself a job was actually pretty easy for him. He landed himself a busboy job at a bar. Granted, it wasn't the best thing in the world, but it kept him busy and out of trouble. As for me, I stayed in the first few days until I decided to accompany him to work. Since then, I remained there and kept a good eye on him.

There were a few things I noticed when at the bar: people loved to drink. Sam had a lot of work for him each time, and I could easily tell one of the waitresses—Lindsey—couldn't help but find him attractive. I felt like I took on the role of Dean, more or less, watching over Sam, making sure nothing happened to him. I mean, for all we knew, Lindsey could be a demon in disguise. It was a way out-there theory, but not impossible.

I kept myself isolated in a back corner of the bar, just keeping tabs. I watched as Lindsey threw darts at the board. Her accuracy made me envious. Sometime I'd want to try darts. I could tonight...Nah. Not worth the effort.

I wasn't paying attention to what Lindsey was telling Sam when I noticed her approach him. I felt stalker-ish, but I had nowhere to be. It was either here or the motel room. I wasn't sure I wanted to go back there by myself.

Meanwhile, the TV at the bar kept going on about something. It wasn't until I looked up that I saw various images: hailstorms; burning trees; a reporter with firemen behind them. I shook my head. These weren't your everyday natural disasters. That's what happened when the apocalypse was approaching.

"Damn," said the bartender. "Is it me or does it seem like it's the end of the world?"

You have no idea.

* * *

"So, what's going on with you and that Lindsey girl?" I asked out of innocent curiosity.

Sam was at the kitchen table with his laptop; this was what he had been doing since he got back from work. He seemed invested in whatever was on the screen.

"Hey." I snapped my fingers. I got his eyes on me. "You can take a break for two seconds to answer me."

"It's nothing."

"She's interested in you, you know." I waggled my eyebrows.

"Is that all you do when you're there, stalk her and me?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, socialize?"

"Yeah, okay, Keith." Though he'd burnt every fake ID and credit card he owned, Sam decided to use an alias when working at the bar. I guess I couldn't blame him.

Sam ignored me for his phone. He dialed someone. I could bet my pack he wasn't contacting Dean.

"If you need me, I'll be outside," I told him.

I stepped outside and left the door open just a crack. I didn't have the key, and I knew Sam would possibly lock me out for a cruel joke. He'd done that once to me before since we got here. It wasn't for long, and I got pissed at him for it, but it showed me that he still had a light side to him. He'd almost genuinely laughed that day. The only thing that didn't make me believe him was his eyes. Everything else showed joy except those hazel eyes.

Though things weren't too great right now, I was thankful for what I had. I had hot water, a bed, food, a friend by my side, and clothes. Still, it couldn't match what I used to have: a family, a home, a supportive community. I lost all of that. I wanted it back so badly.

I picked at my hair, feeling buggy. I was due for a shower. After a few long moments, I stepped back inside to see Sam still glued to his laptop. I went right to him and shut the laptop down.

"Do you mind? I was reading something," he said.

"You need to take a break. I thought you said you were removing yourself from hunting?"

"I am. That doesn't mean that I can't do research."

"We need to talk." I put my hands on the laptop when he tried to open it back up. "I mean it, Sam."

"What is there to talk about?"

"For starters, this thing that associates you with demon blood." Sam didn't meet my gaze. "I just want to understand, Sam. It's all I'm asking. I'm not interrogating you."

"You sure about that?"

"Curiosity is genuine interest, interrogation is me being a bitch." I smiled wryly.

It took a while before he began the backstory: how a yellow-eyed demon named Azazel had snuck into his nursery when he was six months old and dripped some blood into his mouth. His powers had started coming around a short time ago, sort of physic powers. He'd have visions of what could happen in the future if things were left alone. Recently, he was able to send demons back into Hell.

"So what's the connection?" I had to ask.

"I went through my powerful spurts, but that was only possible if..."

"You had the blood in your system," I whispered.

He nodded. "When I was separated from Dean for a few months, this demon named Ruby helped me with my powers."

"Come again?"

"I trusted her."

"Why?"

"Now you're sounding like Dean."

"Sorry if I wasn't present for all this, Sam. I had my own demons to deal with. Wait a second...she was your blood donor." I stood upright, seeing Sam in a whole new light. "You were an addict, weren't you?"

"You're quick."

"Some things just make sense more than others." I shrugged.

"When we ran out for supplies in River Pass, and I killed those two teenagers...I had almost given in. I didn't know it was just regular blood then. It was just..." He ruffled his hair.

"Now I wish I had dropped in sooner," I mumbled. "I do appreciate you opening up, Sam, even if it's just a little bit. It's those kinds of things that tell me you trust me."

"But you don't feel the same way, because you haven't given me your full story."

I snorted. "You haven't been a completely open book, either."

"Maybe we'll get there someday."

"Maybe. Now, if you'll excuse me, I hope you don't mind losing the bathroom for a while."

"Go right ahead. I think I'm turning in anyway."

I snatched up my bag and headed into the bathroom. We were going to have to find a laundromat or something soon, my clothes were going to be ripe. My thoughts wandered while I showered. I definitely had good reason to be with Sam now. Not that I believed demons were hunting us or anything, but someone needed to watch him. I had to act as Dean for now, it seemed.

My ears went to the door, where I swore I heard Sam talking. I thought he was in bed? Does he talk in his sleep? Is he on the phone with someone? I turned off the water. I heard him again. I couldn't narrow the answer down any.

After a change and comb through my hair with my fingers, I let out the steam as I flicked off the light. I found Sam awake in his bed, looking at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "You look spooked." When he didn't answer, I got in a few extra questions. "What were you doing out here? Were you on the phone with someone?"

"No."

"Did you wake yourself up?"

"I wasn't asleep."

"Then you were talking to yourself." I climbed all over my bed, sitting cross-legged. "Sam, you're already beyond normal. Do you really need to tack on that too?" I knew he and I both saw my attempt at humor to be a failure. "Seriously, you don't need to hide things from me. I'm here for a reason."

"It's gonna sound crazy."

I gave him a dirty look. "Try me."

"I was talking with Jessica."

I tilted my head. "You had a girl in here?" Not that I was jealous or anything, I really wasn't.

"I'm...not too sure. She was just here, but then she vanished."

"Vanished? Like a...spirit? You know her?"

"She was my girlfriend."

"Was?" I decided to lay on my side so I could get more comfortable. "So she's a spirit." I didn't know why I was so stuck on that conclusion.

"I'm not sure. I could have been seeing things."

"I don't know. You talked to her." I sighed. "You better spare yourself the unnecessary question and tell me who she was."

"I was with her when I went to Stanford. I was there for law."

"You always were about the big job," I teased. "But go on."

"She was killed by Azazel."

"At Stanford? I can understand why you wouldn't want to stick around after that. Sam...is this the first time you've seen her?"

"Yeah." The look in his eyes told me different. I stared him down until he changed his mind. "Okay, I saw her maybe once not long after she died, but that was years ago."

"But why do this now?"

"Who knows?"

"Just be careful about it if it happens again. Try and sleep."

He didn't argue with me. "Goodnight, Dakota."

"'Night, Sam."

As we turned our separate ways, I tried to calm down my heart. Sam was recovering from a demon blood addiction, and now he was seeing his dead girlfriend? That sounded a bit strange, and this was Sam Winchester I was talking about, a man who was waist-deep in the weird.

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