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

“Christ.” Sarah moaned. Her legs felt weak. There was a bruise forming on her hip from when they fell off the couch, and the carpet scratched on her back. But she wasn’t quite sure if she could stand yet.

“Don’t ask me to do that again.” Dean panted, closing his eyes. “I’m too old.”

“I don’t think I’m going to have to ask.” She smirked. “And do some yoga once in a while.”

“With my soy pumpkin spice latte?”

“You know you like them.” Sarah looked at her watch, then gasped and sat up. “Shit. Get dressed.”

“What?”

“I have a client. I totally forgot.” She stood up and started picking up her clothes.

Dean sat upright and watched the small tattoo on her shoulder blade move with her skin. It was a pentagram, but it didn’t have any sigils in it. It looked very old, like it had grown with her.

“What’s that tattoo?” he asked.

She looked down at him on the floor and kicked his leg gently. “Get dressed.”

“You said you didn’t have time for tattoos.”

She smiled wryly. “It’s the mark of a witch. My mother burnt it into my skin with iron, salt and silver.”

“I thought that only worked against…”

“Monsters? Bad things?” She threw his clothes at him. “They react with magic. They don’t hurt me the way they hurt other things. They just sort of…irritate my skin. So, I’m sure you can imagine how long my mother kept me pinned down with that stupid thing pressed on my skin.”

“But why?”

“Because not all mothers are capable of loving their children. And she wanted to remind me of what I was.” Sarah was still nude as she started up the stairs. “Seriously, my client is here in half an hour. I have to shower. Get dressed.”

~*~

“No scarves?” Dean teased. “No crazy huge bottle cap glasses?”

Sarah scowled at him and rubbed her hair with a towel. “I’m a presence in town, Dean. Not a hermit. They know what I look like.”

He handed her a mug of coffee. “What should I – “

“Do? Well, seeing as it’s too late for you to leave, just stay out of the living room. Read a book. Cook something. Drink. Smoke a cigar. I don’t care.” She hung her towel up in the bathroom. “When will you leave, anyway?”

“Want me gone that badly, huh?”

“Just wondering.”

He sat on the end of the bed. “I should probably head out tomorrow morning. I mean, if you’ll let me stay.”

She shrugged and sipped her coffee, and smiled over the rim. “I guess I could stand your presence for another night.”

The doorbell rang. Sarah sighed and walked out of the master bedroom. Dean finished pulling on his socks. Sarah had carpets everywhere, but the floors were still cold. He walked out into the hall.

Downstairs, Sarah was letting an elderly man in. “How are you, Stewart?”

“I went to the doctor yesterday.” He said. “They found something.”

“Oh, no.” she sighed. “Come on. We can read your cards. And maybe we can find something to help you out a bit, okay? Would you like a drink?”

There were three other doors upstairs. Dean poked his head in the first one and found a guest bedroom. The next was a bathroom. The third was a smaller bedroom that wasn’t furnished. The walls were a pastel yellow, and one of the baseboards had a child’s crayon drawing on it.

It was such a big house for one woman. Sarah must have fallen in love with it to buy it.

Dean closed the door and went back downstairs. Sarah’s client caught sight of him as he slipped into the kitchen.

“Who is that?” he asked suspiciously.

“My friend Dean.” She said quickly. “He’s staying with me for a few days.”

“I see.”

~*~

At six am the next morning, Dean sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at Sarah. She kicked at something in her sleep. He sighed and shook her shoulder gently. She awoke with a start.

“Dean.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He reassured. “I’ve got a long drive and I have to take care of Sammy.”

“Mmm. Family is important.” She stretched herself out. “Mmmm, what time is it?”

He smiled. “Early. Go back to sleep.” He leaned down and kissed her. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Will you?”

He sighed. “Sarah. I would like to try to make this work. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well. Yes.”

He kissed her again, this time holding her longer.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He promised. “And I’ll see you soon. Go back to sleep.”

Sarah sighed and watched him shoulder his bag and leave the room, quietly closing the door behind him. The world was silent at six am, so she heard him walk downstairs and out the door. When she heard the Impala roar to life outside, she knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep.

With a sigh, Sarah got up and went to make coffee, then started to search for jobs to assign to hunters.

~*~

The phone started to ring. Then another. Soon, all the phone rang. Sarah didn’t know which to pick up first. So she picked up her cell. At least that showed who was calling.

“Charlie?”

“Sarah! What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, all the phones – “

“The stars, Sarah. What’s happening to the stars?”

“What?”

“Look outside.”

Sarah ran to the window and looked outside. “What the fuck…?”

Then she ran to the front door and opened it, running outside.

“Is this like…Stardust on steroids?” Charlie asked.

“No.” Sarah breathed, fixated on the sky. They fell straight down through the clouds, too large to be meteoroids. White light. “No, no, Charlie. Those aren’t stars. They’re…angels.”

“What? Why are so many angels falling?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not good. And it smells like Winchester.”

“Aren’t you dating one of them?”

“What? You started getting Hunter’s Quarterly or something?” A new flare, directly overhead. It looked like it would crash very close to her. “Charlie I have to go. Stay inside, okay?”

“Alright.”

Sarah hung up and watched the light burn brighter as the angel plummeted to Earth. Inside, the phones continued to ring. Her cell started to ring again.

“What have you done?” she asked the sky. “What have they done?”

~*~

A few weeks later Dean and Sam stood on Sarah’s front porch. She had just started to put together the hanging baskets. Dean opened the front door.

“You aren’t going to knock?” Sam asked.

“Really?” Dean asked, leading him inside. “Sarah!” he called.

“Don’t move.” A horse voice said, and the brothers heard the sound of a gun cocking. “I’ve got shitty aim but I’m sure I’ll hit something.”

“Sarah, it’s us.” Dean called, looking around for her. He caught sight of her at the top of the stairs, covered in a heavy down comforter. “Sarah, put the gun down.”

She uncocked the gun and let her arm fall limp. She coughed, and yellow sparks fell blew out of her mouth. “Sorry boys,” she said as she slowly came down the stairs, leaning against the railing for support, “didn’t see you properly.”

“You look like shit.” Dean said, feeling her forehead. She was burning hot.

Sam laughed. “Quite the romantic.”

“Shut it, Sammy.”

Sarah looked miserable. “It’s just a flu. It’ll pass.” She pulled her blanket tighter around her. “It’s so cold.”

“Well, maybe you should wear more than a tank top and shorts.”

“Well, I’ll be hot again in ten minutes. Why are you boys here?”

“I told you I’d see you soon.” Dean said, cupping her face. Sam awkwardly looked away. “I did not expect you to be sick, though.”

She coughed up more gold sparks.

“Come on, I’ll make you some tomato and rice soup.” Dean said, gently taking the gun out of her hand.

“I hate tomato soup.”

“You’ll like this one.”

He dropped his bag next to the stairs and walked to the kitchen. Sarah looked at Sam helplessly.

“Just let him.” he advised. “Mom made it for him when he was sick. He made it for me when I was sick. He thinks it can cure anything.”

“Who knew he was so domestic?”

Sam just smiled and put an arm around her shoulders and they followed Dean into the kitchen. He was going through her cabinets and pulling out things he needed. Sarah coughed up even more sparks.

“Alright, I have to ask.” Sam said, sitting her down in a chair. “What is with the sparks?”

“It’s what happens when I get sick.” She said. “I don’t know if it happens to all witches.”

“I feel like every time I see you, you seem more…magical.”

Sarah snorted, which made her cough more. When she finished, she said, “Well Sammy, I haven’t bothered hiding it from you since you found out.”

“Sammy, you want some too?” Dean called.

“He might as well, seeing as I won’t eat it.” Sarah shot back.

“You will like this soup, Sarah.”

“I hate tomato soup.” Sarah muttered. “Tastes like feet.”

Sam swallowed a laugh.

“What’s been going on in the world?” she asked, shrugging off her blanket but keeping it close. “How are you feeling, Sam?”

“Better.” He said, nodding. “Much better. Tired, sometimes, but better.”

Sarah didn’t miss Dean watching him carefully as he spoke.

“Cass is human.”

“I know.” She said, touching her pendant. “He called. He explained the fall.”

“Abbadon’s trying to take over hell.”

Sarah frowned. “That’s not good. That’s really, really, not good. What’s Crowley doing? I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

“Well, uhm, funny story.” Sam grimaced. “We sort of have him locked up in our dungeon.”

Sarah blinked at him a few times. “I’m not sure if the dungeon part or the holding Crowley prisoner part is more important to talk about.”

“The dungeon came with the new bat cave.”

“Yeah, I kinda assumed.” She rubbed her eyes. “Why are you holding Crowley hostage when he very clearly needs to stop Harley Quinn from taking over his kingdom?”

“Because we can use him.”

Sarah shook her head. “Your funeral.” She coughed and pulled her blanket back on. “Don’t come crawling to me when everything gets fucked.”

“Have we ever?”

“No, but don’t start. Got enough on my hands.” She pulled a stack of papers in front of her. “Goddamn angels killing angels and hunters who don’t know what to do.”

Dean came over and took her papers out of her hands. “How are you going to get better if you work constantly?”

“By sheer force of will?”

“Cute.” He told her. “You’re not getting out of eating the soup.”

She glared as he returned to the stove, moving her papers safely away from her. Sam laughed and shook his head.