Reading Between The Lines (Sabriel)

Chapter 9

"What is this place?" Sam asks, looking around in wonder. It looked like a trainwreck from the outside, with broken windows, chipped paint, and shutters falling off the walls, but inside... It's beautiful — certainly nicer than anywhere Sam's ever stayed.

The Trickster gestures around. "Welcome to my new house."

Sam gapes at him. "Your house? You have a house?"

The Trickster shrugs. "What's the point of having magical powers if I can't fix up an abandoned house for a night with my friend, you know?"

Sam shakes his head. "Wow. That's... kind of overkill."

He waves that off. "You think any kill is overkill."

"I mean, yeah, I'm pretty anti-killing," Sam says. "But this is a very different kind of kill than I'd expected."

"Just admit it; you love my decorating skills."

The two sit down on the couch, which is conveniently just big enough for them both to fit with about half a foot of space between them. They're close, but not too close. Sam's not entirely sure what their relationship is right now, and, because he's overthinking everything right now, he doesn't want to sit too close or too far away and confuse the guy.

"So, I see you're back on the road," the Trickster remarks. "You and Dean finally kiss and make up?"

Sam shakes his head. "He hasn't even picked up the phone in days."

The Trickster raises an eyebrow. "Really? What's his glitch?"

"He just thinks it'll be best if we keep a solid couple hundred miles between us," Sam says.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

It's a lie, of course. Dean definitely explained it to him. Part of it is still the distrust between them after what happened with Ruby and Lilith, but especially now, after finding out that they're the vessels of the apocalypse... Well, they both agreed that the two of them are too dangerous together right now.

But that's not something he can explain. How is he supposed to tell the Trickster that he just brought on the apocalypse? That he's the reason the devil is walking free? That could only end horribly — and he doesn't just mean that he's afraid of losing the only friend he has left, though that is part of it.

As much as he likes the Trickster — and he really likes the Trickster — that's what he is: a Trickster. He may act like a friend, but he's still one of the monsters, and Sam can't guarantee that he doesn't have some agenda, or that he wouldn't develop one once he hears the news. That's one risk he can't take.

Fortunately, the trickster doesn't press him for details. "Well, I hope you guys figure your shit out soon."

"Yeah, really," Sam agrees. But it doesn't seem like that's a possibility anymore.

"So, basically, you're hunting on your own?" the Trickster asks. "No backup? No hunters you can call if things get out of hand?"

Sam shrugs. "Yeah, I guess." Although he has to admit, he wishes the guy could have phrased that any other way.

"And you're cool with that?" the Trickster asks, seeming just as wary as Sam is about it.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Sam asks. "I'm on every hunter's bad side right now, and, in case you haven't noticed, starting a normal life doesn't exactly work out well for me."

All the way back to college, it's ended horribly every time he tried to move on from hunting. He got Jess killed just by existing. And now the bar, where he almost got one of his co-workers killed because he couldn't keep his past to himself... He just has too many enemies. He always has, and they get in the way. He's not naive enough to think that won't happen again.