Every time Sam blinks, Garber is one of the little towns all alike between New Harmony and Pontiac, or Fort Lauderdale and Fort Lauderdale, or Stanford.

There's a heart-stopping moment when Lindsey is silhouetted against the west window at sunset, and the red and orange light paints memories of Jess in flames, Jess with Lindsey's face. That's enough to get him thinking; not enough to decide him, though it should have been. Instead he waits till after Lindsey's turn as hostage.

There's a Michael's pretty close by. (It's almost as though the universe is conspiring against him.) Sam sees the brass wire in the jewelry supply section, thinks Dean must miss the weight of the amulet more than Sam does, and gets silver wire in quantity.

Ten loops in succession. A gap, a loop, a gap. Ten loops in succession. A gap, a loop, a gap. Ten loops in succession. A gap, a loop, a gap. Ten loops in succession. A gap, a loop, a gap. Ten loops in succession. Twist the free end around. A loop, a gap, three loops, a gap. A loop, a gap, and twist the last few inches into a cross.

Sam thinks about sticking with the standard Church of St. Diana blessing—it's always worked for Dean, after all; of course, Dean's religious affiliation has always been more the Church of Whatever Works—but instead he catches a ride to St. Francis Xavier's in Enid on Sunday. The familiarity of the ritual has never failed to be a comfort before, but the last time Sam was on holy ground...the priest is more than willing to bless Sam's craftwork, and suggests Keith come back Saturday for Reconciliation. Sam doesn't laugh in his face. He does say he isn't Catholic enough to believe any number of Hail Marys or priests offering absolution can clean the slate, and can't meet the man's eyes when he thinks of Jess and the blonde woman at St. Mary's and adds that nothing anyone can do can make her any less dead.

(Nothing anyone can do can make God any less dead.)

Then it's up the water tower late at night, and drop in the rosary and recite the Latin, and the silver skitters across the inside of the tank and halts at the edge of the outflow pipe and fuses itself to the wall (he's washed his mouth out a dozen times but he can still taste the blood on his teeth). Sam still has a killer headache when his shift starts that afternoon.

It's a week later when a pretty woman orders a whiskey on the rocks, knocks it back, and draws everyone's attention with the steam and the screaming. Sam grabs her and yells that she's having a seizure, for Lindsey to get her some water; the woman knocks the glass over and Sam makes sure it splashes them both. Lindsey calls 911.

Sam whispers the short-form exorcism as fast as he can, and the demon is gone and the chaos beginning to settle when the ambulance arrives. (Thank fuck the demon was alone; thank fuck the woman is alive; oh fuck, the demon is alive, he's probably going to have to run for it, unless he's lucky enough for there to be no communication between demons below and Lucifer above.) The woman joins Sam and a salt-white Lindsey in insisting that it was a seizure, that anything else was just people can see weird things when they're drunk; the woman insists Sam come with her to the hospital. Lindsey glares and waves her hands in a way that Sam has no trouble interpreting as 'you're staying right here till I get an explanation'. Sam's boss tells Sam to go.

Sam grabs a pen and draws a circle and pentacle on Lindsey's hand; protection against demons, he explains quietly, and follows the paramedics to the ambulance.

"How do you make holy water?" the woman asks partway to the hospital. Sam's still blinking, wondering if she was awake while possessed or if she's just that quick-thinking, when she cracks a smile and answers herself, "Boil the hell out of it."

"Yeah, exactly," Sam says. He's grinning. It's been a while. He's still got the pen, so he draws a pentacle on her unscorched hand and adds his cell number. "Call me when you can."