I'll Tell You My Sins so You Can Sharpen Your Knife

Sarah sat paralyzed in her armchair as Sam and Dean looked at her expectantly.

“I don’t understand.” She said shakily.

“Which part?” Sam asked.

“Let’s just condense your past few months into a few sentences.” She said, lighting a cigarette. “So, Sam got his soul back. Congratulations. Castiel was working with Crowley to open purgatory, but Castiel took all the life crystals or whatever. So now Castiel is basically God and Crowley is in hiding. And Sam is going crazy because he’s hallucinating Lucifer.”

“Basically.” Dean agreed.

Out of the corner of Sam’s eye, Lucifer perched on a stack of books and bounced a tennis ball, smirking. “Wonder what all these books are about.” Lucifer mused. “Awful lot of spell books for a girl who doesn’t hunt.”

She rubbed her eyes, and waved her hand at the bookshelf. “Get me that bottle of whiskey.”

“Want a glass, too?” Dean asked, carefully stepping over books.

“I don’t think this occasion calls for one.”

She took another long drag of her cigarette, and ashed. Dean handed her the bottle and she took a large gulp.

“The part I don’t understand,” she said with a raspy voice, “is how you managed to let shit get so fucked up.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly the plan.”

“It didn’t occur to you that Castiel might, you know, explode, did it? He’s strong, but he’s the bottom of the pile in the old arch angels. And that status has been demoted. He can’t hold that kind of energy for long.”

“He’s not going to explode, Sarah.”

“Well, what happens when it turns out that he ate something nasty? Like, I don’t know, Eve.”

“She’s sharp, too.” Lucifer grinned. “What I don’t understand is why your nitwit brother is the one she’s flirting with, not you the boy scout.”

“Well it’s not like he wants our help with that, seeing as he’s on a massive power trip.” Dean snapped.

“Well I don’t know why you’re here telling me this.”

“Hey!” Lucifer jumped in front of Sam. “Sammy! Look what I found! A homemade dictionary of creatures. Wonder what it says about angels. Or hunters. Bet she has some nasty things to say about you two.”

Sam closed his eyes tightly.

“Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t put it together! She’s got a secret she’s not telling. And I’ll get your sanity that it’s – “

“SHUT UP!” Sam yelled.

Sarah and Dean jumped and looked at Sam.

“He’s back.” Dean muttered.

Sarah ground out her cigarette. “Alright. You two should stay here tonight. It’s late, and with the world all topsy turvey I don’t want you on the road this late. I can make something up to help Sam sleep.”

“Of course she can.” Lucifer grinned. “Because the hunter in you knows exactly what she is. Even if your brother is too transfixed by her pretty face to look too close.”

“Dean, there’s blankets in the bathroom closet. You wanna make up beds for the two of you?”

Dean nodded and left the room. Sarah dumped cold tea of out of her cup and into a half-dead plant. She spat in the bottom of the cup and filled it halfway with whiskey. She stood and took a box off her bookshelf, crumpled a few dried leaved into the cup, and stirred it with her pinkey.

“How do you know to do that?” Sam asked quietly, so Dean wouldn’t hear.

Sarah smiled. “Shush, Sammy. Drink.”

He grimaced and took a sip.

“The whole thing.”

Sam sighed and drank the entire cup. Almost instantly his eyelids got heavy, and he fell back against the couch. He fought to keep his eyes open as Sarah lifted his legs onto the couch. She brushed hair out of his eyes and kissed his forehead, sealing the spell.

“You’ll find out soon.” She whispered into his dreams. “God knows Castiel will tell you if I don’t.”

She stayed sitting and watching him sleep until Dean returned.

“I bet he was adorable as a kid.” She said.

“Yeah, between all the times he fought with Dad, ran away, got angsty, had little demonic trips, he was a real gem.”

Dean spread a blanket over his brother and then spread two more on the floor, pushing aside a few piles of books to make room.

“Sorry I don’t have anything better.” She said.

“You could share the bed.” He grinned at her.

She laughed. “Dream on, Winchester.” She stood. “I’ll see you in the morning. Holler if Sam starts to have a bad reaction.”

“Will he?”

“I don’t know. 0.02% chance. Good night.”

She left for her own room, keeping the door cracked open and changing in the dark. Dean pulled off his shoes and jeans and pulled the thin blanket he had chosen over him. The cabin itself was so warm. Sam was out like a light. What had Sarah given him?

Oh well, it didn’t matter. It worked.

~*~

The next morning, Dean woke up first and checked on his brother on the couch. He was still asleep, but it seemed normal. Like he’s wake up easily. Dean silently stepped around Sarah’s books and headed for the kitchen. He had seen Sarah take her tea out of the cabinet next to the sink, and that was probably where the coffee was.

As he started the machine, he looked out the window above the sink and stretched. It was very pretty here. peaceful and isolated. No wonder Sarah always returned here.

Dean found a mug, poured his coffee, and walked back towards the living room. Sam was sound asleep. Across the hall, Sarah’s bedroom door was half open. The only sign of her was her feet sticking out under the blanket.

Dean walked back to the kitchen and sat down. The kitchen was cold. He huddled close to his mug. There was a pain in his elbow, and when he looked down he saw a hardcover leather journal. The cover was embossed with a red and gold image of a dragon on a pile of gold. A bright green pen sat next to it.

The house was still quiet. What was the harm in taking a peek?

With a frown, Dean opened the notebook. The inside cover was covered in all sorts of sigils, warding just about anything off. The next few pages were illustrations and quotes, mostly having to do with a Bilbo Baggins.

Eventually he came across an entry.

Tuesday. December 17, 2006

My mother is dead. Thank god. I don’t think anyone quantifies the word ‘witch’ as much as she did. May her bones burn green. And of course those cunts at the coven have probably hidden her fingers somewhere just in case they need to bring her back.

My mother is dead, and I really can’t bring myself to cry. Maybe because she was awful. Maybe because her coven is after me. or maybe witches just can’t.

-Sarah

But all that Dean could really register was the word ‘witch’.

“Hey.” Sarah’s voice came. She shuffled into the room in a thin black bathrobe. “You found the coffee.”

Dean’s fingers gripped the sides of the table.

“Sam still asleep? He’ll probably wake up soon. I hope that kept him from having nightmares. I’d imagine it’s worse if you can’t physically wake up.”

Dean slowly stood and silently moved towards the block of kitchen knives. Would slitting a witch’s throat work? He’d never had the opportunity to try. But Sarah trusted him.

Sarah trusted him.

But did he really know her?

He raised the knife.

Sarah chose that moment to turn around. She screamed, dropped her coffee, and threw up her hands. Dean yelled as he was thrown back against the refrigerator.

Sam woke up to yelling. He immediately knew. Sarah and Dean were finally killing each other. He threw himself off the couch and through the living room, sending books everywhere. When he finally reached the kitchen, Dean was being held against the fridge by an invisible force, Sarah was crying, and a knife was stuck in the floor.

“What the – “ Sam started.

“Sam!” Dean shouted. “She’s a witch!”

“Don’t even think about it.” Sarah sobbed, raising her hand threateningly at Sam. “Don’t.”

Sam raised his own hands in surrender. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.” He said calmly.

“Well, he doesn’t get one!” Sarah shouted, reinforcing the invisible bonds on Dean. He grunted in pain. “He read my journal. Tried to kill me.”

“Sarah, he’s just in shock – “

“She’s a witch!”

“And you know the worst part?” she sniffled, looking at Sam. He had never seen her look so tragic. Not even that time back at the beginning, when Castiel dropped her off all covered in blood. “I almost trusted you two. I was going to tell you everything. I thought you wouldn’t hurt me. You’d understand that I practice white magic.”

“Sarah, I understand. Let him go. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you.”

“No.” she sobbed. “No, no, no.”

A flutter of wings, and Castiel was standing behind Sarah. He seemed thunderous.

“What have you done to make Sarah cry?” he demanded.

“They know, Cass.” She sobbed. “I told you they’d try to kill me. Dean tried to stab me.”

“I can smite them.”

“No.” she sniffled and shook her head, wiping her eyes. “Take them away.” She gave Dean the nastiest glare she could muster. “Give him the mercy he wouldn’t give me.”

Castiel grabbed Sam and Dean roughly by the shoulders, and moved them to Bobby’s house. Then he went back and moved the car.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam yelled at Dean. “She’s our friend!”

Dean finally had switched into guilt and remorse, cupping his face in his hand. “What have I done?”

Bobby was thundering down the stairs. “What the hell is going on?”

“Dean tried to kill Sarah. She’s a white witch.” Sam supplied.

“Awh, hell, boy.” Bobby growled. “You know, you’re like a son to me, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more ashamed of you in my life.”

“Then you won’t mind if I smite him.” Castiel said, reappearing.

“Cass, you promised Sarah you wouldn’t.” Sam said.

Castiel glared at Dean. “Sarah is a white witch. She’s never once killed. That said, she’s very powerful. The Grand Coven wants to harvest her magic, and they don’t care if she’s alive or dead when they do it. She’s been through enough without you trying to stab her.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean whispered.

Castiel vanished.

Dean looked at Sam and Bobby. “I never want to see her again.”

“But – “ Bobby started.

“No.”

Dean left the room and headed upstairs to the room he usually slept in. He slammed the door behind himself and leaned against it.

Why did he feel so hurt?