And there was Sam Winchester. In all his warmth and sweetness. Fatima hated herself for immediately flashing back to their First Time. She wondered if he'd turned her into some kind of nymphomaniac. After all, she'd spent the first twenty years of her life actively avoiding sex.

Now it was practically all she could think about, when she wasn't busy with trying to keep busy.

...maybe that was a little dramatic. Still, it was a pain in the ass.

But all of that aside, she really did trust him not to let her fall. And she was okay with letting go of the rungs. No hesitation there.

Grabbing her necklace, she pressed one of the sharp points into her index finger until she drew blood. It pooled up like a dark, red bead. It was an act she was so used to, she didn't even think twice about it. It barely even hurt. "Sometimes, having tainted blood has its advantages," she muttered, carefully leaning over to the door, to start drawing out a glyph.