The Last Goodbye

7

Sam prepared Elle an impressive sandwich, large enough to satisfy even him. He gawked at her as she inhaled it like a starving stray dog. He did his best to make small talk with her as she ate, purposefully interrupting her between chews, giving Dean as much time as possible to uncover what he could about their guest.

"Sam, this sandwich is fantastic. The ratio of turkey to produce to mayonnaise is genius," Elle commended.

Sam grinned, "Uh, thanks." He leaned back against the counter and watched her eat. Occasional hums of satisfaction escaped her between bites. "So... how far did you come back? I mean, when exactly did you come from?"

She swallowed to clear her throat before responding. Her body stiffened as she spoke, "Not far. I only came back 3 years." She waited for his reaction. Sam nodded but he was clearly only more curious.

"Can you at least tell me why you came back? Maybe one of us ought to know the details... If you really are going to stop Cas from... whatever it is we need to stop him from doing," Sam sat down at the table across from the dark-headed woman. "If the situation is as dire as you're implying."

She flinched at his last statement, and remorse welled in her eyes. She set the remains of her mostly eaten sandwich before her and looked into the inquisitive face of the giant hunter. Sam's massive, calloused hands were folded on the table between them, and she rested her pale hands on top of his, childlike in comparison.

"Dean and I..." she started, "are involved...were. We were involved." While Sam felt validated in his initial instincts, his stomach began to turn in on itself as she paused. He spotted the gleam of a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Were...?"

"Sam... I..." Elle stifled a sob and stared into Sam's apprehensive face. "Even considering the lives we lead, I never in a million years believed I would have to break your heart with this information twice." Her hands tremored. Warmth began to swirl in the hunter's chest, he willed for her not to say the words he anticipated. "Sam... C-Cas made a selfish decision. He knew- knows there will be repercussions. But not... Dean was killed, Sammy, as consequence of Castiel's behavior."

He hated this. Sam fucking hated their lives. His brother had another rapidly approaching death sentence. "Cas, would never do anything that would put Dean at risk...ever," he rebuffed.

The angel's hands constricted his and didn't waver in force, "Cas," she glared beyond Sam, "Cas, didn't know. Of course he would never hurt Dean. Never intentionally... He just didn't know. Doesn't. Cas doesn't know it will happen. He's blinded." She was despondent. Her eyes were hollowed by grief.

Sam's eternal nightmare, losing his brother, was engulfing his reality. Again. After all that they have gone through together. He was sick of watching Dean die. Sick of dying. His anguish and fear transformed to rage. Fury welled within him.

"You have given me no reason, no proof, for me to believe a goddamned word you say. Why the fuck should I trust you? You could be here to hurt him! You're just lying to get close enough to do it. Please, tell me why I shouldn't kill you right here," Sam aggressively stood up from the table and prowled over to Elle.

She didn't flinch. She showed no response to Sam's threat. She looked away from his eyes and stared into her lap shamefully, like a scolded child. She carefully reached into to the breast pocket of her flannel shirt and gently laid a worn Polaroid on the table and pushed it toward Sam. He picked up the picture, his hands still shaking from his frantic emotions.

He examined the image- bunker library. Dean sitting on a small loveseat. Elle perpendicular to him, back against the armrest, and her legs draped across his lap. Stacks of books on the table beside them and the floor below them. They each had massive volumes in their hands, but they weren't reading them. Dean stared into Elle's eyes and vice versa. They were punch-drunk and mesmerized. Gooey smiles on both of their faces.

"We did not see you," she stated flatly. She took the photo from Sam and pensively examined it.

Sam blinked rapidly as he shifted his gaze to Elle. His vision had hyper-focused on each detail making his eyes dehydrated, "I took this?"

"You came to relieve us from research, but we did not acknowledge your entrance. You grabbed the camera and snapped the picture..." she smiled nostalgically, "Dean was not happy when he heard you."

Sam explored the vulnerability on Elle's face. He believed her. He sure as Hell didn't want to believe her story. He couldn't deny the expressions of the angel and his brother captured in the picture.

"He loved this picture, though. He never told you, and he would be furious if he knew I told you. He kept it on him always. Until..." she choked and looked up at Sam. "Sam... I hate this as much as you do. Trust me. I just need to save him. We have to save him," the hunter could sense she was on the verge of breaking down.

He took a deep steady breath to subdue the anxiety pumping thorough him. "We will. Just tell me how and we wi-" as the words left his lips, Elle's eyes widened in fear, and with the startling whoosh of angel's wings, Sam was suddenly alone in the kitchen.

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