Lucifer is free. Let's party.
Once that gate started to open – well, I'm just gonna say it: we got the hell out of there, hauling ass back to Bobby's to figure this all out and maybe save the world before we get to the 'group apology' thing.
Long about 4:38 am I needed to find a motel. So somewhere in Pennsylvania we pulled off into some Mom and Pop place that actually had Mom behind the counter. She had a little pug dog with her and I told her I had a dog like that once and his name was Christo. Hey, you can't be too careful. But other than her wrinkling her already wrinkled forehead at that, I got no reaction.
So Sam is laying on his bed now, in the dark room with the only light coming through the window from the strongest security light I've even seen. He's curled on his side facing away from me. I'm not even gonna start thinking about everything he must have on his mind right now. And for everything he's surely thinking about, I have almost an exact thought of my own to be processing.
We are so screwed, and it's our damn fault. Mine more than Sammy though because I was supposed to be looking out for him and all I did was push him away. Over and over and over again.
No wonder he doesn't even want to look at me now.
At least he doesn't have the mother of all headaches after taking out Lilith. Though I wish he did, almost. At least it would give me something to do for him, give him the painkillers, take care of him. I want to do something for him, I need to. Four or five hours now we've been together, driving and here in the motel, and all Sam has given me is two 'yes' answers, 'you okay? and 'you ready to stop?' And four 'no' answers, 'are you hurt? are you hungry? do you have a headache? are you cold?'
I need to do something for my brother.
There's a glass on the sink, an actual drinking glass not just a specimen cup like we usually find in these places, so I fill it up and bring it over to his bed. I sit at his back and offer it over.
"Here." I say it like he asked for it. And maybe somehow he did because he sits up and drinks it all in a few gulps like he's dying of thirst. Then he holds the glass is both hands and still doesn't look at me.
"You were right." He says.
"Sammy, I was so far from right I have two left feet."
He thinks about that a second or two and looks at me.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Neither does anything else that's happened lately." I say and he smiles an agreement and huffs out a small laugh. "Uh – you know – I – uh -." This was so much easier when I was saying it into his phone. "I'm sorry. For what I said. I left you a voice message but I think that part got cut off. I'm sorry Sammy."
He gives me a look that's puzzled at first then clears to anger.
"The voicemail I got, you called me a vampire and said you were gonna hunt me down and kill me."
Oh really? If that skank wasn't dead already, I swear -.
"You wanna go back and kill her again?" Sam asks me, in that joking, serious way he has. He used to have. Maybe he'll have again.
"You know I do." I take the glass out of his hand and go to refill it. "I can't help thinking that none of this would've happened if we weren't so -." I try to think of the right words and Sammy jumps in.
"Stubborn, pigheaded, and self-righteous?"
"Well, I was gonna say – well, no. That about covers it." I hand him the glass and he gulps it down again only a little slower. "They played us. They found our buttons and they pushed. We woulda had to not have buttons to not be here right now. Or we woulda have to been able to ignore them."
Sam drinks more and looks at me some more.
"You're a kinda big button to ignore." He says.
"Say 'Ginormo Button' here." I have to answer him.
He grins and it is a sight to see.
"What do we do now?"
"Get some rest." I tell him. "Because one thing never changes – we've got work to do."