She watched the water run into the drain. It was red at first, then pink, then a sort of soapy orange before it started to run clear. It was strange, not healing properly. The scar on her back was perpetually tender, the same place as Sam's and just starting to crackle around the edges. The center was still soft and red, like it'd never healed at
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Because what else could a death threat be but a 'yes dear'?
She squeezed his shoulder, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise. He could take it, he was a big boy after all. Thought he could take on Dean's demons all by himself. He knew better now, knew he needed all the help he could get - Dean, Ruby, Bobby, demons.
"Tick tock, Sammy," she added in the singsong voice she knew he half hated. "Pencils down, the test is over. What's your answer, Sammy? Pony up or let Dean die?"
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"Am I going to get something besides fucking vague answers? Now that we're being 'honest' about everything?"
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"But I don't have all the answers," she warned. (Not that he ever listened to her warnings anyway.) "I know enough to help, but no one could ever be prepared for this, not 100%. Okay? I'm putting that on the table, up front. I'm not walking away from this, but I don't know everything. We're still working half blind."
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