". . . and when they were through, they all stood and looked at the temple that they had made themselves, out of ordinary stuff and their own imaginations, and felt-well, maybe a little like Dr. Frankenstein had when he created the monster." -"The Egypt Game" by Zilpha Keatley Snyder
Jesse threw the baseball up into the air and caught it again in the beat-up leather mitt that Mr. Singer had found in the attic for him. After a few hundred rounds of this, he no longer had to cheat with his powers. Rumsfield the Second had long ago realized that there would be no stray balls to chase, maul, and bury. The big mutt was curled around Jesse's back to provide a comfortable pillow as the boy sat in the grass on the edge of the scrapyard.
Every ten minutes like clockwork, Mr. Singer sticks his head out the window to check on him. Like Jesse can't be trusted to stay put for longer than that. Except he is trusted now—immediately after Australia, even his bathroom visits were supervised.
Awkward.
Bigger things had since happened, and Mr. Singer had his hands full without babysitting Jesse 24-7. Things like Dean. And to a lesser extent, Ben.
Ben doesn't like Jesse, won't play with him, and yells a lot when Jesse's powers get away from him. Sam told Jesse to be patient. Jesse's all about being patient, but the chip on Ben's shoulder (an expression Jesse picked up from Mr. Singer) only seemed to get bigger. Jesse knows that the other boy just lost his mother. Jesse knows that Ben had to get Dean from Indiana to the salvage yard all by himself. Jesse knows that.
He thinks it might be Ben who doesn't realize that Jesse lost his parents too. And his biological mom just a few minutes after meeting her. That Jesse spent eight months on his own in Australia. That Gabriel found him and then the archangel died which was a lot more permanent than lost. That Jesse had liked Dean too.
Jesse knows better than to say it out loud though. Ben won't care, but Sam and Cas will feel extra guilty. And Mr. Singer will get that measuring-look in his eye as if he's fitting Jesse along his scale of Human-to-Monster. Jesse knows that the old hunter can't hurt him even if he wanted too, but some things are better left alone.
Rumsfield tenses and Jesse snags the ball out of midair in order to scramble to his feet. A moment later and he can hear the familiar rumble of the Impala. He considers running down the drive to meet the car, but stays put since they were driving straight up to the house anyway.
Castiel was in the driver's seat. The former-angel was an excellent driver, taught by Sam himself, but Sam never seemed to get over the nervous anticipation of imminent disaster when Castiel drove. It was only through the judicious application of guilt that Castiel ever managed to coax keys from the Winchester.
"Sam!" Jesse yells, as the tall man stepped out of the car. Sam waved and moved to open the back door, only for the blonde girl to get out on the other side. Sam pressed his mouth together tightly, and shut the door calmly before coming around the car to ruffle Jesse's hair.
Jesse grinned and held up the ball and glove. "Want to play catch, Sam?"
"In a bit, Jesse," his guardian promises. "We need to get Claire settled in first."
The blonde girl was a few years older than Jesse and Ben, but very pretty. She stood off to the side a bit as Castiel pulled her suitcases out of the trunk. Jesse smiled at her, but she didn't look at him. She simply stared at her feet until Castiel approached and set one hand gently on her head.
"Come on, Claire," he murmured.
"Yes, Castiel," she returned obediently.
Bobby came out onto the front porch, drying his hands off on a dish towel as he moved forward. "Good to meet you, Claire. I'm Bobby."
"Thank you, Mr. Bobby," she smiled a little at the gruff old hunter. One couldn't help but smile at Bobby's begrudging manner. He actually thought he was scary.
Sam stepped up so that Claire was flanked on both sides by the very tall younger men with Bobby directly in front. Overwhelmed, Claire returned to studying her shoes. Jesse hovered at the base of the steps watching his hero guide the new girl inside. No one paid any attention to him.
It was okay though, because Claire was probably not going to be interested in playing with Jesse either. She was older and a girl and her mom had just died for real. Sam would play catch later, and Jesse could wait. In the meantime, he could snap some dinner into existence.
"Hey, Claire!" he called as the party started to move through the entryway. She paused and looked back at him in confusion. "What's your favorite food?"
Claire blinked, but Sam smiled. "Burgers," she mumbled quietly at the random question. "White Castle."
Castiel winced, but Jesse grinned, leaning on the screen door and snapped his fingers idly. "Okay."
"Come on, Claire," Sam murmured gently, as Bobby headed back to the kitchen muttering under his breath about kids and food and powers. "Your room is at the top of the stairs. We painted it for you."
"I hope it's not pink. I hate pink."
Jesse's eyes widened, and he made the sudden jump from the front porch to the middle of Claire's new bedroom. His travels were punctuated by a sharp yelp as he became very suddenly, very thoroughly drenched in ice cold water.
There were no spontaneous leaks in the roof or Ben laughing with a bucket in hand or any rational reason for Jesse's current state, and the boy glowered. Bobby warded the room funny—that's why he told Ben and Jesse not to go in there earlier. He could have said that.
Voices approaching the top of the stairs forced him to ignore the discomfort. With a thought, the walls were pale yellow instead and Jesse made to disappear only to realize he was stuck.
Huffing, Jesse stalked to the doorway and tried leaving the traditional way. He made it outside the room only to collapse at the top of the steps.
"Jesse!"
Castiel was faster, even with the suitcases which were hastily abandoned as the man scooped him off the floor. All the same, the former-angel had tried to kill him once, and Jesse felt much better when he was handed off to Sam.
"What did you get into now, Jesse?" Sam asked in exasperation.
"Bobby's wards," Jesse sighed, shrinking into Sam's arms. He was really cold now, and still wet. Sam sighed and made to pass the open doorway and continue down the hall to the room that Jesse shared with Ben. Jesse reached out and grabbed the doorframe, forcing Sam to halt.
"Jesse?"
"You can put me down," he mumbled into Sam's shoulder. The man acquiesced, and Jesse hovered in the doorway. "Thanks."
"Go get dried off," Sam prodded him out of the way and pointed to the bathroom. "Hurry up."
"Ok," but Jesse did not move. Actually, he'd rather go back inside Claire's room again.
"Now, Jesse," Castiel told him firmly, hefting the suitcases again. Claire watched, peeking around her sort-of-father.
"I know," Jesse wavered. "I just . . . don't want to?" he finished in surprise. Now both men were staring at him, and Jesse cringed. "I'm trying!" Jesse took four deliberate steps toward the bathroom and instantly backpedaled. Darting between Sam and Cas, Jesse was freshly soaked upon crossing the threshold.
"That's kind of weird, Castiel," Claire piped up.
"Welcome to Singer Salvage, Claire," Sam sighed. Jesse folded his arms across his chest and glowered at his guardians. The annoyed vibe was diminished by the hard shivering that wracked his entire frame. "Come out of there already, Jesse, your lips are turning blue."
"As soon as I get out, I want back in," Jesse complained, but obediently stepped out of the bedroom again. "It gets worse the farther away I get," he muttered irritably.
"Claire, would you grab a towel from the bathroom?" Castiel asked quietly. "It's at the end of the hall."
"Sure," she chirped, glancing back over her shoulder as she walked away. "This is really weird."
"I am not weird," Jesse told Sam defiantly.
"No one's saying that," Sam soothed, pushing wet hair off of Jesse's forehead with one hand. Jesse scowled.
"I'll go and get Bobby," Castiel murmured and headed downstairs again.
Claire returned with the towel, and Sam attacked Jesse with the oversized brown terrycloth, with some overzealous passes at Jesse's hair.
"I'm not a baby either, Sam," Jesse grumbled, but did so quietly because Claire was watching, the start of a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.
"You need a lot of hand-holdin' regardless, boy," Bobby growled as he climbed the stairs. "I told ya to stay out of that room."
"But you didn't say why," Jesse complained, shivering. Sam wrapped him up in the man's coat, and Jesse leaned into the warmth.
"You're going to learn to do things on our say-so if it's the only thing I can pound into your thick skull, boy," Bobby returned sharply.
Jesse swallowed hard. "Yes, sir," and cowered a bit behind Sam. Bobby's eyes narrowed, and there was just no winning here.
"The warding, Bobby?" Castiel prompted before anything else could be said.
Bobby frowned at Jesse, and leaned back against the railing. "It's a bit of warding from the 1800s . . . it's called Le Chaperon. Keeps curious little boys and girls out of each other's rooms by dousing offenders in cold water."
"Okay, but him not being able to leave kind of counters the keeping out effect," Sam pointed out.
"He can't leave?" Bobby asked, zeroing in on the boy once more.
"Four steps away and he's gotta go back in," Sam affirmed. "Side-effect?"
"Weird one," Bobby commented thoughtfully. "Think it's just him or everyone? I set it to keep the boys out."
Sam bit his lip and studied Jesse carefully. "Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.
"Nah, it's just cold."
Sam's brow furrowed. "Ben? Ben, c'mere."
The closed door across the wall opened, and Ben leaned out, scowling at them all. "Shut up; you're gonna wake Dean."
Jesse didn't think anything could wake Dean anymore, but he didn't say anything.
"Sorry, kiddo," Sam apologized. "We just need to borrow you for a second. Jesse walked into some of Bobby's warding with an unusual outcome."
Ben sighed, and shoved both hands in his pockets. "Stupid," he muttered under his breath, and Jesse glared. "What do you need me to do?"
"Walk into Claire's room. You'll get soaked," Sam warned.
Ben rolled his eyes, shouldered past Jesse and stalked into the bedroom, shivering instinctively at the cold. "Happy?"
"Feel anything weird?" Sam asked, studying Ben closely.
"I'm wet, and I'm cold," Ben snapped. "Anything else?"
"No, go get dried off," Sam indicated with a jerk of his chin. Ben shouldered past again, retreating to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. There was a total of thirty seconds of silence and when the door did not open again, Sam sighed, leaning back against the railing. "So it's just Jesse."
"Something to do with . . ."
"I don't know, Bobby," Sam cut him off. "Even if it was, why would something designed to repel attract instead?"
"There's nothing overtly religious involved," Bobby frowned. "Just a mix of herbs and hickory ash . . . it's more voodoo than anything else."
"Well, what herbs?"
"Rosemary, witchhazel, gillyweed, aconite, mint . . ."
"Mint?" Sam frowned. "That's used to summon Tricksters, isn't it?"
"Sure, but what does that—that idjit!" Bobby growled, slamming his fist down on the banister. "If I could get my hands on that fool archangel—"
Jesse jerked. "Gabriel's not a fool!"
"No, Jesse," Sam soothed, even though the patronizing tone doesn't sit well with Jesse. "He wasn't. He kept you safe, and we're not judging."
Except they totally were.
"We just don't know what on earth he did to do it," Sam finished with a sigh. "Alright. So. Mint. Bobby?"
"Do you know how often mint is used in just about anything supernatural, boy?" Bobby grumbled. "At least this is an easy fix." He moved into the room and removed sprigs of mint from the four corners of the compass. "I'll see what it can be replaced with."
Jesse took a step away in relief. Sam caught him before he got any farther. "Wait a second, Jesse . . . just why did you go in there to begin with? I thought you were going to help Bobby with dinner."
"I had to fix the color," Jesse explained glancing over his shoulder furtively at the obviously-interested Claire. The grown-ups seemed to notice the color change for the first time. "Claire doesn't like pink."
Castiel frowned. "How did you know that, Jesse? She never said anything to us."
"She did too! Downstairs!"
"I didn't say it," Claire spoke up, staring at Jesse. "I . . . Castiel, I thought it."
Jesse's ears turned red, and he ducked his head. "I'm not weird."
The bathroom door opened and Ben peered out, towel-drying his hair. "Now cheese-brain's psychic too?" he scoffed. "Doesn't get any weirder."
Jesse scowled and blinked out. He liked Australia better.