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Eileen felt like she was falling when everything vanished. It was a flash: Sam messages popping on the screen in the scariest way possible, the cold wind telling her the night arrived, and suddenly, nothing.
For seconds, darkness.
Then she was back.
In the same spot, standing, confused. It felt like a nap that only lasted five seconds, it felt like five seconds, but the sun is shining right on her face and the cellphone is gone, and the car's keys too, and the fucking car.
She waited; for too long, even; for hours. The neighbors passed by, waving, saying "good mornings" that she can't hear.
When Eileen finally realizes Sam isn't coming — not anymore — and something is terribly wrong, she starts running, not even checking if her money still in her pockets. When she finally reaches the street where she knows there are taxis, she hops in the first one seemed.
The guy driving says... something. Then he turns to Eileen, and she can see:
"... a beautiful day, lady. Where to?"
Nervous and shaking a little, she forms a triangle with her thumb and index finger and close it thrice, then signs a K, an A, and a N. The guy looks at her the same way a hairstylist looks at someone who just asked for a neon-green mullet.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but if you're drunk, I'm not driving you" he says.
Eileen rubs her eyes, suddenly perceiving the headache that probably is not new. "Lebanon, Kansas!" she yells, maybe too loud; she wouldn't know. The ladies in the sidewalk are glaring suspiciously to them.
"Oh, you're mute" he looked really embarrassed. "Why didn't you say?"
She rolled her eyes, not bothering to form an answer. "I'm going to Lebanon, Kansas. Please."
The driver doesn't say a word for the next three hours. The streets and the road were apparently normal — and that, fellas, is the scariest thing. Maybe she's finally getting crazy, falling into a burnout because of all this "God situation".
Eileen doesn't even check the taximeter when she bursts out of the car, leaving $200 on the seat, she runs her way to the bunker's front door, knocking hard, she waits.
Whatever happened to her, Sam probably knows. He must know.
The last months have been nothing less than terrifying. He kept visiting her, taking her to dates, so calm. Of course she loved it, but deep in his eyes she could see the worry, he kept checking his phone too much, looking around, even when they were completely alone. It's hard to feel alone when you know God — with capital G, Him: The Fucking Biblical God — is watching you and taking notes.
And now, no one answered the door. Eileen panics, thinking of the worse; she tries to open the it, but it's obviously locked. Maybe the right thing to do is just leave. Maybe they don't want her here. She's ready to turn around and try to find a place to borrow a cellphone when she feels a hand on her right shoulder.
It's Sam.
She falls on his arms and holds him tight. Behind him, Dean says something she can't see and leaves. After minutes, she steps back, looking at Sam. He's crying so hard in a way Eileen never saw he doing, and she's kinda glad for not hear him sobbing, it would probably make her cry too.
When he says something, she can't understand well, waiting for him to calm down a little. Then, she rises both of her hands, then twists her wrists in fists, the index fingers pointing at Sam — What happened? —, then adds out loud:
"I was so worried."
He signs something, with shaky hands, both fists bumping and one going upwards to the side — slightly wrong, but understandable: Win. And she signs back, with the right hand, two fingers move twice on the palm of the other hand — what do you mean? —, and Sam makes her stop by holding her hands, letting the last tears drop. He takes a deep breath, with absolutely no hurry, what makes her heart race even more, and she can't know if it's relief or a heart attack.
"It's over" he says out loud, "we won."
"How?" Eileen says, caught open-mouthed. "What you wanted to tell me when you were texting at night?"
"We should... I'll explain that later. The last days were... fuck" Sam smiles (or tries, at least), "I don't even know what to say."
"Okay" she nods. "I'm happy it's over."
Sam rises one of his hands, putting two fingers down, leaving only the thumb, index and pinky. Eileen smiles and repeats the same sign. The poor boy cries again, so she closes the gap between them.
They kiss, it's kinda desperate, but worth every second.
Eileen knows she's never leaving.