Chapter Text
Jude had every intention of returning to help the Campbells with their mission. She told Sam she would visit in a few weeks, which tumbled quickly into a few months. He, in turn, kept saying that he would stop by soon. He never did. Their conversations stayed confined to a phone screen, frequent enough to make both parties feel that they were doing the right thing, but stiff in a way they never used to be. They had to re-learn each other with Hell raising a fiery barrier between them. Jude kept catching glimpses of the man Sam used to be through the flames. They never lingered for long enough.
Whoever Sam may be now, Dean was the same, loyal to his family and his father’s wishes to look after his little brother. After moving Lisa and Ben to a new house—just a precaution, Dean said, though it reminded Jude of John keeping his sons on the move—the couple worked out an arrangement. Dean would return to hunting with his brother. Lisa would be waiting for him whenever he decided to come home. Though it was a delicate balance, leaning much too far in Sam’s favor, Jude wished she could strike up a similar deal with her life.
She lamented this frequently to her team, who were being as helpful as they could for a bunch of non-hunters learning about the revival of her dead lover who was off-center from his time in Hell. They had to tread carefully around these discussions in the office now that their team had absorbed a new cadet, Ashley Seaver, who was especially keen on worming her way into their tight dynamic. Conversations about hunting happened sparsely, often in code or secluded in Hotch or Rossi’s offices.
It was Hotch who suggested that Jude’s guilt was an itch she had to scratch. It was impacting her ability to focus at work. The best thing for her, no matter how much Dean protested, would be visiting the Campbells to offer her assistance. The family was up to their necks in unforeseen supernatural insanity, all centering around something that was supposed to be a myth, even among hunters: Alpha monsters, the first of each of their kinds. Dean had already tried to help them deal with the first shapeshifter, who ultimately got away after killing several of Samuel’s men, including Mark.
As if matters on Earth were not bad enough, Castiel had returned amidst the madness to inform the Winchesters of a civil war in Heaven. The kingdom in the sky had crumbled after Armageddon was quenched by their band of meddling mortals. The archangel Raphael and his followers were fighting to place him on God’s empty throne, setting back into motion the apocalypse that Sam’s sacrifice had halted.
Angels were disappearing in this war, sometimes at will. One of the dissenters, Balthazar, had faked his own death and escaped Heaven with a host of powerful weapons. He was selling them in exchange for human souls. Jude was still foggy on the reasoning—it sounded a bit like he had just been bored—but Castiel and the brothers had to track him down after one of his stolen weapons, the Staff of Moses, was being used in a series of revenge killings.
“Okay, hang on. Let’s just…” Jude paused to take a sip of coffee. She closed her eyes as cinnamon whiskey, an appreciated addition by Dean, burned its way down her throat. He had picked her up from the airport in his beloved Impala, and was recounting these latest misadventures as they drove through the night. They would stop at a motel for Jude to get a few hours of rest before continuing onward to the Campbell compound. “Let’s put a pin in Armageddon 2.0 for now. Back to Sam.” They had veered off this first topic of conversation over an hour ago and she was eager to get back to it. “I realized something was wrong with him from the start. When I confronted him, he agreed, but couldn’t elaborate.”
“I know. When that truth goddess had us locked up in her butchering room—”
“A very normal sentence.”
“Shh. I told her the truth the second she asked me to. Sam lied. She freaked, said he shouldn’t be able to do that. Said he wasn’t human. After we killed her, I…I turned my knife on Sam.” Jude chewed on her lip. She was not sure she could have done the same. “He told me he hasn’t felt anything since he came back. No fear, no happiness, no love.” Dean stopped at a red light to look at her. In the old days, if the roads were as empty as they were then, he would have run right through it.
“When I was last with you guys, I thought he was being more physical than he used to be. I chalked it up to him missing me, but it went past that. It felt possessive. I felt like an object.” The light turned green at just the right moment to pull Dean’s eyes away from her. For a while, Jude appreciated the silence and the rumble of the old car, but it became too much to bear. “Do you wanna talk about the vampire episode?”
Dean scoffed. “When Sam let me get turned so we could get into that nest and learn about the Alpha? Sure.”
“Well, not—”
“He said he did it because he knew I could handle it, and that there was a cure.”
“Dean, I don’t mean that part. I mean when you went home.” They passed beneath a streetlight. Jude saw his hands tighten on the wheel. “Lisa called me. She said you attacked Ben.”
“I stopped myself before I really hurt them.”
“But you can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you gave in.”
“How did…” Dean took a slow breath. Jude heard it shake, like he was fighting to keep his voice steady. “How did she sound to you?”
“Scared. She called me pretty soon after you bolted. I offered to come up, but she said she just needed to hear my voice. Ben grabbed the phone. He asked me what to do if you came back. I didn’t know what to say.”
“What did you say?”
Jude played with a silver ring on her left hand, pretending she couldn’t remember what she had told the frightened boy. But she did. “Lock the doors and windows. Get a big knife. Hide. Wait. I told him that if you were in control enough to run, he shouldn’t worry, but I didn’t totally believe that. I don’t think he did, either. He’s a smart kid. Takes after you.”
“He’s not my son. I’m not a father.”
“But you’re the closest thing he’s ever had. He looks up to you.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe he shouldn’t.”
“I look up to you.” Dean pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of a rust orange motel. He parked and stared at her, a little disbelieving, under the neon sign. “Honest to God, wherever the bastard is. You may not be perfect, but you’re a good man.” They stepped out of the Impala and stretched their legs. “And you’re you, which is more than I can say about your brother right now. At least he admitted he needs help.”
“Yeah, about that.” Dean fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the closest door. “I may have already called in the big guns.” He ushered Jude inside, then slipped in behind her to lock the door and check the curtains. His brother was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, his face a patchwork of blood and fresh bruises. A trench-coated angel stood by his side. “Glad you could make it.”
“I’m glad, too. He looks terrible. You did this?” Dean nodded. Jude looked back at Sam just as he began to stir. Instinct called her forward to take his hands and assure him that he was safe. Reason held her back.
“Cas?” he croaked. “Jude? What are you doing here?”
Jude frowned at the blood crusted around his nostrils. She wondered how hard Dean had hit him. “Call it a wellness check.”
Castiel took that as his cue to proceed. He began prodding Sam’s face, pulling his eyes open and pinching his misshapen nose. “Has he been feverish?”
“I dunno,” Dean shrugged, double-checking that the curtains were fully closed. “Have you?”
“No, why?”
“Are you speaking in tongues?” Castiel turned back to the hunters, his hands still tugging up Sam’s eyebrows. “Is he speaking in tongues?”
“Wouldn’t you know if…” Jude let the question die in her mouth. Of course Castiel would be able to understand him in whatever unknown tongue he was speaking in. It was one angelic ability she wished she could have in her back pocket. That and instantaneous flight. Jude was fairly certain she had spent more of her adult life in planes than on the ground. “Nevermind. He’s not.”
“Obviously, I’m not. Are you diagnosing me?”
Dean guided Jude further into the room with a gentle hand on her back. “You better hope he can, ‘cause he’s all we’ve got. You think there’s a clinic out there for people who pop out of Hell wrong? He asks, you answer.”
As Jude got closer, she watched Sam’s eyes soften. It was the puppy dog trick that worked so well on everyone, especially her, but it was missing the true warmth that used to make her knees buckle. “Jude—”
“Don’t look at her like that,” Dean ordered. “Jude, turn around.”
“What, you think I’m gonna run in and untie him? I don’t trust him either.” Her broken boyfriend’s face fell. “You heard your brother. Don’t look at me like that. Cas, keep going.”
“How often do you sleep?”
“I don’t.”
Dean’s eyebrows jumped. “Like, at all?”
“Not since I got back.”
“And it never occurred to you that there might be something off about that?”
“Of course it did, Dean, I just…” Sam sighed through a split lip. “I never told you.”
All eyes went back to the angel. “Sam, what are you feeling right now?”
“I feel like my nose is broken.”
“No, that’s a physical sensation. How do you feel?”
“Well, I think—”
“Feel.”
“I….I don’t know.” Jude deferred to his brother. He caught Castiel’s celestial eyes and nodded. A decision had been made on which Jude had not been consulted. She suspected it was because she would hate it.
Already, as Castiel took off his belt and offered it to Sam, Jude became wary. “Bite this. This is going to be unpleasant.”
“I’m sorry,” Jude raised her hand, “what the fuck did I sign up for?”
“Sam, if there’s someplace that you find soothing, you should go there in your mind.” Once the strip of leather was situated between Sam’s teeth, Castiel turned back to Jude. “Please come here and hold his head.”
“Tell me what you’re doing first.”
“Reaching into Sam to find out what’s missing. Just do what he says.” Jude bit back nausea and walked behind Sam. She tilted his head back with one hand on his forehead and the other on his chin. He stared up at her, eyes pleading, unable to talk through the belt in his mouth. Jude’s nose wrinkled in discomfort. She glanced up at Dean and watched him pull a similar expression. “I know. It feels weird from this angle, too.”
“Are we all ready?”
“Wait. Is it going to hurt that bad?” Castiel looked down at their captive, frowned, then nodded. “Dean, turn the TV on really loud in case he screams.” He did. A sitcom laugh track cut through the tension in the room. Jude shivered, remembering being trapped in Gabriel’s television hellscape. She remembered that she and Sam were engaged in one of the shows. She started to wonder if they would ever get there in the real world, then felt Sam’s eyes staring into her soul, and shook the feeling off. It would all depend on what Castiel found, anyway. “Alright. I’m ready.”
With no further ado, no courtesy of a countdown or quick apology, Castiel thrust his hand into Sam’s chest. Immediately, Sam screamed around the belt and leaned his head deeper into Jude’s stomach. She stroked his cheek with her thumb while his skin grew hot. Red veins crept up his neck like molten lava. His chest glowed where Castiel’s hand was, up to the wrist inside of him. The glow spread, searching every cavity of his body for a sign of what was wrong. It touched Jude’s hands and burned like hot coals.
Jude yelped and flinched back. Sam’s head lolled to the side. He was writhing against the ropes, gasping and panting through the agony of the entity in his chest. His brother stood stock-still, arms folded and jaw set. Something was missing in him, too. He had lost it trying to find Sam.
Castiel finally withdrew his hand. His captive’s head slumped forward. It no longer mattered what Sam had become. Jude knelt next to him and took his face in her hands. It was slick with sweat. He may not have the capacity for emotion, but the residual agony was clear in his eyes. “Jude, don’t…” Sam, still panting, leaned his forehead against hers. She tried her best not to recoil when he dry heaved. “Don’t ever let him do that again.”
“That’ll depend on if he found anything.” Jude detached herself from his sweaty forehead to look at the angel. He looked deeply, and alarmingly, confused. “Well? Did you?”
“No.”
“So, that’s good news?” Dean asked as he switched off the television.
“I’m afraid not. Physically, he’s perfectly healthy. It’s his soul that I couldn’t find. It’s gone.”
Jude looked at Sam, as if she would be able to see this absence with her mortal eyes, then back at Castiel. “Gone?”
“Gone,” he repeated.
“Gone.”
Dean was not as satisfied with this simple repetition. “I’m sorry. One more time, like we’re five. What do you mean he’s got no soul?”
“When Sam was resurrected, it was without his soul.”
“So where is it?” Jude asked, taking her hands from Sam’s face and wiping them on her jeans. “Still in the cage?”
“I assume so.”
Jude’s shoulders sagged. She dragged herself off the ground with the angel’s offered hand, the one that had just invaded Sam’s chest only to find it empty, and went to stand with Dean, who asked, “Is he even still Sam?”
“Well, you pose an interesting philosophical question, but—”
“Stop,” Jude cut in. “None of that. I got enough philosophy in college. Can you get it back?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“You got me out in one piece,” Dean protested.
“It took several angels to rescue you,” Castiel pushed back, though Jude knew nothing he said would be enough for Dean, “and you weren’t nearly as well-guarded. Sam’s soul is in Lucifer’s cage. There’s a big difference. It’s just not possible.”
“Are you guys gonna untie me?”
“No,” Jude and Dean answered at once.
“Listen, I’m not gonna—”
“What? Hurt us?” Sam nodded. Jude wished she was stupid enough to believe him.
“Sam, how are we even supposed to let you out of this room?”
“Dean, I’m not some psycho. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I was just trying to stop the vamps.” Neither the humans nor the angel answered him, to agree or otherwise. Sam sighed. “I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again. Please let me go.”
There was a measure of real sincerity in his plea, enough to make Jude take a few steps forward before Dean could catch her arm. “You’re kidding, right?” It was hard to tell whether this was to her or to Sam; likely both.
“What are you gonna do? Just keep me locked up here forever?” Laid out like that, it sounded ridiculous, but Dean only shrugged. He was in too deep. “Okay, fine. I get it. I was wrong. But I’m telling you, I’m trying to get right. It’s still me.”
“No, it isn’t.” Jude folded her arms and shifted her weight under scrutiny of all the eyes that fell on her. “I pawned my soul to Crowley to find out where Death was. When it was gone, I felt like you feel now…or rather, I didn’t feel. I didn’t realize how wrong that was until he put it back.”
Sam tilted his head. She could see her words swirling around in there, being picked apart so he could find a way in. He thought he did. “But you said you asked Crowley to take your soul away again when I died.”
“And I understand now that it was the wrong call.” Sam watched his attempt to crack her resolve fizzle out and die at her feet. If Jude had to label it, the emotion he forced upon his face more so resembled irritation than real disappointment. “To quote His Majesty, ‘having a soul’s a shit deal,’ but it’s part of life. Our souls are who we are. Without them, we’re just a brain controlling a body. You may be alive, Sam, but you’re not really living.”
The soulless man sighed. “I didn’t want it to come to this.” There was some movement behind the chair. Sam stood, letting the ropes fall to his feet. His full height seemed more imposing, somehow. Maybe it was knowing that there was no conscience to hold back its force. Whatever the case, Jude stepped back. Sam’s brow wrinkled. It might have been guilt, or possibly pity, if he had the ability to feel anything at all. “I’m not gonna hurt you, but I’m also not gonna let you hold me. This is the version of me you’re stuck with, so you might as well work with me. Let’s fix this.” He offered his hands, which had enacted more mindless violence in the last year than his entire life, to Jude. “I may not have the capacity to feel right now, but I know I loved you once. I know I loved you for a very long time, and if you’ll let me, I’d like to learn how to love you again.”
“Oh, shut—”
Jude shouldered past Dean’s attempt to move in front of her. She took Sam’s big hands in hers. He smiled. “I know everything you just said is bullshit.” The smile died. “And, honestly, I’m a little offended that you thought you could lie to my face again. But if you’re really willing to fix this, then I’ll help in any way I can.” Jude patted Sam’s chest and stepped back, beckoning their angel forward. “Cas, fix his face, please.” A brief touch of his fingers to Sam’s forehead made the man flinch, but his nose crunched back into place, his wounds healed, and his face was cleared of blood. “First, we need to figure out whoever yanked you—most of you—out of Hell. You really have no idea?”
“None.”
“Okay. Then we’ll start a list. If it's that hard to spring someone out of the Box,” Dean deferred to Castiel, “then who’s got that kind of muscle?”
After a long pause, the angel shrugged. “I don’t know. You have no memory of your resurrection?”
“I woke up in a field. That’s all I’ve got.”
“No clues? Nothing?”
“Well, I’ve got one.”
Jude tried to sleep in the back seat of the Impala on the drive to Samuel’s compound. There were bags of Sam’s belongings lining the floor, filling her nose with his scent. He and Dean were sharing the Impala after his shiny new car had been crushed in an angel-on-angel battle. Jude felt his eyes on her for most of the ride. She did her best to ignore him, fearing the conversation that might strike up if she looked up. When they arrived at the compound, Sam lunged out of the car to open her door and help her up. Jude accepted, though she kept her eyes downcast and pulled her hands away the moment she was upright.
There were more hunters than normal inside the main house—granted, Jude had only been there a few times—sitting around crowded tables of weapons and tall jars of thick blood. Dean noticed the overabundance of people, too, and scoffed. “Did Gramps throw a barbeque and leave us off the guest list?”
Christian walked over to hug Sam. He laughed at Dean’s comment, but didn’t answer. All he and Jude got from him was a curt nod. “Dean. Jude.”
Jude didn’t even give him that. “Where’s Peepaw?”
Christian rolled his eyes. He glanced at Sam, who repeated the inquiry with a tilt of his head, then pointed over his shoulder. Sam led them down the hallway to his grandfather’s office. His brother opened the door without so much as a warning knock. As they entered the dark space, decorated much like the interior of Bobby’s entire house, Jude saw Samuel slip something into his desk. “Come right on in,” he grumbled.
Dean got right to it. “We need to ask you a few questions.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The day you got back, what happened?”
“We’ve been over this.”
“Well, recap it for our wingman.”
Wind buffeted unseen wings and Castiel appeared by the small, grimy window. Samuel did not flinch. In fact, as he sized up the angel, he only looked mildly intrigued. “This is Castiel?” He nodded. “You’re scrawnier than I pictured.”
“This is a vessel. My true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler Building.” Jude snorted a laugh behind her hand. She swore she saw the angel smirk.
“Alright,” Dean glared at them both, “quit bragging. So you were dead, and…?”
“And pow, I was on Elton Ridge. Don’t know how. Don’t know why.” The blank stares they all gave him must have betrayed some mistrust. “I’ve got nothing to hide, guys.”
Jude shrugged. “Sure, but just to humor us, would you mind if our angel double checks?”
Samuel refused the ropes and the belt they had used for Sam. When Castiel plunged his hand into the man’s chest, there was no one to hold his head or stroke his face in comfort. Samuel just wailed into the stale air of his office. Footsteps thundered down the hallway to his office. As Castiel withdrew his hand and Samuel gulped down air, Christian burst in with a gun.
“Whoa!” Sam and Dean rushed to block him. “It’s okay. He’s okay.”
Christian, watching his uncle cower against the wall while a man with mysterious blue eyes rolled down his sleeve, was understandably not convinced. “What the hell’s going on here?”
“Angel cavity search,” Dean explained, though not very well. “He’s alright.”
“I’m fine, Christian. Just give us a minute.”
“But—”
“You heard him. Bye-bye.” In his shocked state, Christian put up no fight as Jude shoved him out the door and slammed it in his face. “So? What’s the verdict?”
“His soul is intact.”
“What?” Samuel panted. “Of course, I have a…” He looked between his grandsons, the agent, and the angel they had brought with them. “What’s going on here?”
“Whatever dragged me out left a piece behind.” Samuel sighed and dropped back into his desk chair. “Did you know?”
“No, but I…” He sighed, folding his weathered hands on the desk. “I knew it was something. You’re a hell of a hunter, Sam, but the truth is, sometimes you scare me.”
“Yeah, that’s going around.”
Samuel frowned at Jude’s words. “But the way he talked about you…I really believed it. I really thought he loved you.”
“He did, once.” Jude leaned back against the door, folding her arms to protect her heart. She felt Sam’s eyes slide back down to her. Again, she ignored him.
Samuel was kind enough to change the topic. “So, what’s the deal here? How do we fix this? How do we get his soul back?”
The soulless man’s brother shrugged. “No idea yet, but we have to make it happen. All we’ve got now is a bunch of dead ends and you.”
“Well, then, let’s start digging.”
“Cas?” Jude whispered. She had noticed his gaze drift to the window while the hunters spoke. “Are you okay?”
The angel turned to face her. He saw the genuine concern tugging down her lips and furrowing her brow, sighed, and shook his head. “No. I have to get back to Heaven.”
“You’re leaving?” Dean blurted.
“I’m in the middle of a civil war.”
“Well, you’d better tear the attic up to find something to help Sam.”
Castiel narrowed his eyes at the soul he had saved years ago. “Of course. Your problems always come first.” He turned back to Jude, who thought she caught the slightest softening of his nebula eyes. “I’ll be in touch.” Jude closed her eyes as his wings fluttered her bangs. When she opened them, he was gone.
“I would’ve asked him to stick around for a beer.”
“He doesn’t drink. Or eat. Or sleep.” Jude paused. “Well, neither does Sam these days. Anyway, what’s with the gathering outside?”
They waited while Samuel pulled out a bag of supplies and dropped it with a thud on his desk. “I’m putting together a hunt.”
Dean frowned. “That’s a lotta people for one hunt.”
“You found him, didn’t you?”
“‘Him’?” Jude echoed.
Sam grinned back at her. There was something sadistic in his smile that pressed Jude further against the door. “The Alpha vampire. He’s got a lead. Don’t you?”
“Maybe.” Samuel let their curiosity stew for a moment, then admitted, “Yeah.”
“How’d you track him down?”
Samuel pulled a machete out of the bag. “We’re good.”
Sam could not be bothered to comment on the disgruntled look that passed between Jude and Dean. “When’s the run?”
“Dawn.”
“And you didn’t call me? Why?”
“‘Cause of me.” Though Samuel said nothing, the way he shrunk away from Dean’s gaze made it clear. “You don’t trust me very much, do you? Especially when it comes to big game like this.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then we’re in,” Dean decided. “All three of us.”
“No offense, but—”
“So you don’t trust me. Fine. But what about her?” Dean jabbed his thumb back at Jude. “You only met her once, and she’s a good hunter. Sam can vouch for her.”
“I don’t doubt that. And I have nothing against Jude, or you. I just don’t know you. Not like I know Sam.”
“The way he is right now, I’m not sure any of us know Sam, but I do know that Dean and I are willing to work with you.” He nodded to back Jude’s case. “I came here to help, Samuel. Please let me do that.”
“We’ll let you call the plays,” Dean agreed, “one-hundred percent. We’re just here to listen.”
Samuel relented. “Fine, but for the record? I believe her a lot more than I believe you.”
Dean kept his mouth shut until they were safely out of the building. He propped open the Impala’s trunk so they could grab their own supplies, then sighed. “I don’t trust him. Dude’s hiding something. I can feel it.”
“Really?” Sam frowned. “You think so?”
“Oh,” Jude nodded, “absolutely.”
“Yes. And if you weren’t Robo-Sam, you’d feel it, too.”
“Huh.” Dean stopped shoving stakes and knives into his bag. He looked up at his brother, wide eyes waiting for him to elaborate. “It’s just weird hearing you not trust your family. Jude, I get. She hated Dad’s guts.”
She had never put it quite so bluntly, but Jude had to admit that he was right. She slung the first full duffel bag over her shoulder. “Still do. Sam, he clearly doesn’t trust us, so why not reciprocate? We’ll go with them, blend in, and see what we can pick up, but I’m not entirely positive he doesn’t have something to do with your missing soul.”
Weighed down with supplies, they went back inside to join the preparation efforts. Sam made straight for Christian’s table. When Dean moved to follow, Jude held him back. “I saw Samuel slip something into the top right drawer of his desk,” she whispered. “See if you can take a peek at it.”
“Why me?”
“Because he trusts me to some extent, and we can’t risk losing that. There’s nowhere for you to go but down.” Dean sighed, knowing she was right. “I’ll poke around out here.” While Dean meandered through the crowded room, Jude slid onto a bench next to Gwen. “So, what are we doing here?”
Gwen smiled and swirled a jar of thick red blood in Jude’s face. Somehow, everything the woman did was sultry in the most unsettling way. “Dead man’s blood darts. You’ll wanna—”
“I got it.” Jude took the jar as the blood sloshed precariously close to the lip. “I’ve made these before.”
This got her an approving nod from Gwen. “Very nice. Your idea, or one of the big lugs I’m related to?”
“Mine, but they’re not lugs. They’re smart. Most of the time.” Gwen cackled as she unscrewed a fresh jar of blood. Jude took this as a good sign. She worked her way through a few darts before pushing her luck a little further. “Going after the top vampire like this is a big task. Any idea why Samuel’s so set on it?”
Gwen shrugged, twirling a dart between her fingers. “We’ve been hunting small game all our lives. Why not go for patient zero and knock them all out?”
“Killing him would get rid of all vamps?” Jude knew the answer, but she thought playing dumb would earn her more.
“Maybe, maybe not. We’re working with myths here, not facts, but I’d say it’s worth a shot. Wouldn’t you?”
“I guess.” The woman worked in silence for a bit until Jude tried again. “This just feels like a lot of people to risk on one mission.”
“Safety in numbers. You’ll get used to it.” Jude had no interest in getting used to it, though she did not say so. A few of the nearby tables were trying to eavesdrop. She locked eyes with a few of the culprits, scowling until they turned their heads down, then looked around for Dean. He had already slipped away. She wondered if Sam noticed. Looking at his table, she saw that Christian was gone, too. Gwen followed her stare and smiled, completely misinterpreting her interest. “Sam said you were together for a year before he went down. Sounds like you two were still in the honeymoon phase.”
Jude scoffed before she could stop herself. “Not anymore.”
“What changed?”
“He went to Hell, for starters. Came back different.” Wiping her bloody hands on a rag, Jude chose her words carefully. They had decided not to let the other Campbells know about Sam’s missing soul. “He’s just not the man I fell in love with. Not completely.”
“Are you the woman he fell in love with?”
“I think so. I hope so.”
“Then you’ll make it work. Sam’s a good guy. He won’t leave you hanging.” Gwen hummed happily as she returned to her work, knowing nothing but meaning well. Sam was already leaving Jude hanging. Though it was through no fault of his own, he had kicked the bucket out from under her himself. Jude pulled her eyes away from Gwen in time to see Dean and Christian emerge from the hallway. Dean’s hands were empty. He shook his head. No luck.