Reckless [Dean Winchester]

30. Purgatory (Part 2)

30. Purgatory (Part 2)

It takes all my strength to keep Sam in the cell. Bobby's punch almost sends him into me and us both out of the cell.

"Get the hell out of here, you black-eyed son of a bitch," the man snarls.

"What?" Sam gasps. "Bobby, it's Sam."

"Yeah, and I'm Elvis. Move your ass!"

"Bobby-"

"Get!"

"It's really him!" I wriggle my way to get in front of Sam.

Bobby's brows wrinkle above his eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

"There's proof enough that Sam is really here. I'm Max, I'm a friend of the Winchesters." Friend is stretching it a bit with Dean, but Bobby doesn't need to know that.

Bobby shakes his head. "No, Dean swore neither of them would take in another person, not after Lucifer."

I tilt my head.

"It's me!" Sam protests. "Okay, damn it. If it's not Sam...Then how do I know all about you and Tori Spelling?"

"What?"

"You're a fan. Yeah. Or-or, uh...Okay. What about your free pedicure at the Mall of America? You made Dean swear to never tell another living soul how it changed your life."

I feel awkward listening to this. I feel like I shouldn't be in here while Sam tries to convince Bobby he's really here.

But then the realization hits Bobby's face. "Sam?" A warm feeling grows when I see the men hug. It kind of makes Hell a little easier to swallow at the moment. "I'm sorry, Sam, but you're the two-hundredth Sam I've seen today. That's how they screw with me. Just endless Sams and Deans all wearing the same black eyes."

What torture will I be put through? I think of the lady with the burnt flesh. I think of the delusional people in the cells. Am I condemned to go mad? Am I going to be burned alive, have my skin peeling off strip by strip? What if there's something worse in store for me? Focus. Don't freak out now. Focus. Sam needs you.

"Wait a minute," says Bobby. "What the hell are you doing here? Please don't tell me it's what I think it is."

"No, no, no, Bobby, I'm good." I clear my throat. "I mean, we're good. We...We're here to get you. You don't belong here, Bobby." Sam hands over the demon-killing knife. "And we're getting you out."

"We can play catchup once we're out," I say, adjusting my grip on my new temporary weapon. "Come on."

"Where'd you find her?" I hear Bobby ask Sam. I'm peeking out the cell, making sure the coast is clear. Once it is, I move out.

"Long story."

"She another long lost friend of yours?"

"No."

"She a hunter?"

"Kinda."

"We know the way, right?" I ask Sam.

"We're going the right way. We're right behind you, Max."

I pretend as though I've got blinders on; I stare straight ahead. I don't give in to the moans and groans of tortured souls in Hell. I don't let them psyche me out. This feels like a test for me, a test to swallow my first impression of Hell.