Note: You'll understand this once you've read it through, but I chose Cicero rather than Battle Creek as the move to Battle Creek is partly influenced by Dean. Since in this story season six hasn't happened, it'd be a bit contradictory. ;)

Jordan sat cross-legged against the bed, hands behind her head, looking up at their crazy wall. Dean was sitting at the table, massaging his head, and Sam was pacing. The full extent of their knowledge was pasted up on the wall in long rows. Every theft they knew, or heavily suspected, was the work of their gold thief was up there. They'd been looking them over for something like three days now, and they'd gotten nowhere.

"It has to be something he took," Sam murmured, half to himself. "Has to be."

"He didn't do much when he wasn't being a high-class klepto," Dean said, in a kind of agreement. "Reveled in his plunder and drank a lot of wine, apparently. The police think he met with a fencer for some of his goods, but that meet was a month ago at least."

Jordan snickered. "Plunder, really?"

"Loot," said Dean.

"Treasure," suggested Jordan.

"Booty," said Dean triumphantly, and while Jordan dissolved into a fit of giggles, Dean grinned at Sam. Sam was gazing fixedly at the crazy wall and didn't notice. "What's up?" Dean asked him.

"Well," said Sam. "He was killed in Long Island, but this wasn't always where he came out to play, is it? If we take away the jobs that weren't in Long Island—" He reached up and began to systematically pull down sheets of paper, until they were left with a disjointed handful. He took a step back to look at them, head cocked to the side.

"Run of the mill stuff," said Dean, coming to look at them more closely. "Stuff you could get at the local jewelry store."

"Except," said Sam, "for this one right here." He yanked it down and handed it to Dean, whose eyebrows hiked upward before he passed it on to Jordan. She pulled an expression almost identical to Dean's.

" 'Antique bracelet, intricate engravings, gold,' " she read. The top of the report marked the owner as Sir John Milton. She looked up at the boys. "And the cops seriously fell for this?"

"Not big fans of poetry, I guess," said Sam. "I'm thinking we should probably check it out."

"Oh god," said Jordan.

The boys looked at her.

"What?" Sam asked.

Jordan clamped a hand to her stomach, looking panicked. "Oh god," she said again, and then let out an agonized moan. Now her boys looked concerned as well as baffled, especially when she rolled to her feet and all but ran for the bathroom. A few moments later she bellowed, "Sam!"

"Uh-oh," said Dean.

Gingerly, Sam went up to the bathroom door, raised a hand, and knocked. "What's wrong, Jordan?" he asked, trying to be quiet, but in a hotel room this cheap, secrets didn't keep.

"I need you to do something really, really important for me," said Jordan's voice. "It involves a credit card, a cell phone, and a trip down the toiletry aisle of the supermarket."

Dean gave Sam an incredulous look. "Tell me you didn't knock her up."

Sam's head swiveled around so fast he cricked it, his color totally gone, but then Jordan's voice said, "Don't be a moron, Dean, I forgot to bring tampons." When Dean started to smile, she said abruptly, "And if you make a crack about this, it'll be you who makes the girly run, okay there, hot stuff?"

Dean stopped smiling.

An hour later, Sam and Dean and Jordan were sitting in the Impala, staring out half-fogged windows at what was very clearly an abandoned lot. Dean turned down his Aerosmith CD and turned to face his brother and Jordan. "This guy is starting to piss me off," he said.

"You're not alone on that one, toots," said Jordan, scooting closer to the window and rubbing at the condensation until she could see better. The dying oak tree in the center of the lot moved wearily in the wind. "Fake name, fake address … so what now?"

"Now," said Dean, "we call Bobby."

He dug out his cell phone and flipped it open, but instead of dialing Bobby, he stared down at the screen. Jordan saw Sam give the screen a double-take.

"What?" she asked, leaning forward. Dean's thumb jabbed at the end key until the screen went blank.

"Dean," said Sam.

"Shut up, let me think," Dean snapped. Jordan reached over and tapped his shoulder gently, and watched as Dean's color rose. Yup. There wasn't a doubt in her mind who the messages had been from.

Lisa.

Jordan took out her own cell phone and dialed Bobby, letting Dean mull things over in peace. He'd had a rough time of it lately. He was trying, hard as he could, to pretend like he was still twenty and ready to take on the world. Jordan knew better. He was closing in on thirty and ready to take on a family, that's what he was, and by family she didn't mean Sam, either.

"Yo," said Bobby, on the other end.

"Yo yourself, cowboy," said Jordan. "What's shakin' at the OK Corral?"

Bobby didn't answer right away, which was a bad omen if there ever was one. Then he said, "Dean listening?"

"Affirmative, Bravo Leader."

"I'll be brief, then. Lisa called me, and it sounds to me like she could use some help."

Jordan made an uncertain sound. Bobby grunted his agreement. "Yeah, I don't think Dean's ready for that either. Which was why I was crossing my fingers Sam or you would call first. How fast can you hightail it out of there?"

"Kind of in the middle of something here, Bobby," Jordan said, drawing the immediate attention of the boys. She shifted so that she wasn't looking into their faces.

"What, and them two boys suddenly can't work a job without you there to hold their hands? Move your ass, Delaine."

"Sir yes sir," said Jordan, irritably, then added, "Be there ASAP, bossman. Okay?"

"Okay," agreed Bobby. He paused. "And thanks, kid." He hung up, and Jordan turned to face the expectant faces of the Winchester boys.

"Um," she said. Their eyebrows rose, simultaneously, and she knew they were sensing an oncoming lie. So she told the truth, or part of it. "Bobby's got something he wants me to do for him. It shouldn't take too long. So—uh—could you drop me off at the bus station?"

"Bobby's got a job for you?" Dean asked, sounding surprised.

"It's more like a favor, but yeah," Jordan agreed. "He wants me there ten minutes ago, though, so can we get a move on?"

The brothers exchanged looks. "Yeah," said Dean. "Sure."

They drove back to the hotel, so that she could pack up her things, and then drove straight to the bus station. Neither of the boys said much, for which Jordan was glad; she wasn't sure she could lie to them if they asked her directly. For that matter, she wasn't even sure if she should lie.

Sam offered to go with her to the bus office to get the ticket, but she turned him down. She put it off as her being independently quirky, but she could tell from the looks on their faces that neither Winchester believed her. She leaned in Sam's window, hesitated, and then kissed him.

His hands reached up and buried themselves in her hair, and he whispered into her ear, "Call me later. Tell me the truth."

Oh yeah. They really didn't believe her.

" 'Kay," she breathed, and drew back. She waved at them as they drove away, and then bought a one-way ticket to Cicero.