-
"We should've followed her," Sam said as he entered the motel room. He turned to Dean. "We have to find out if she has an ability, and if she does, if she's using it."
Dean kicked the door shut and tossed his keys on the dresser, where the yearbook and a stack of notes Sam had taken were piled. "If we'd followed her, she would've called the cops." He sat down on one of the beds and sighed. "Maybe we should consider some alternatives here, Sammy?"
"Alternatives?" Sam repeated, not hiding his surprise. "What 'alternatives', Dean? It's all connected – we just don't know how. Which is why I have to talk to her again."
"The vision you had, how can it be connected to this when hardly anything about it was right?" He watched Sam pace back and forth in front of him. "You have to think, maybe it's not related to Miss Priss. Or to the demon."
"But she knew Jewel -"
"It's a small friggin' town, Sam. It's no big shocker she'd have known Jewel was ..." He couldn't quite say it. After everything he'd learned about her, it still surprised him. It shouldn't have – no one was a stereotype. Though, if he'd had to guess which of the Myers' sisters was, he'd have picked Jaina. Unless she was, too.
"She's involved," Sam stated. "How much, I don't know. And I don't understand why you're so quick to say this isn't demon-related? Without the vision, we would have Tabitha Jordan, another kid like me, in town."
Dean looked away. "Maybe the demon crossed her off the list?" he suggested. "I dunno if you noticed, she was a really stuck-up bitch."
"Or maybe just a really frightened girl?" He finally sat down on the other bed, across from Dean. He stared at the worn carpet underneath his boots. "If she does have an ability, she might not be able to control it. Jewel might've been an accident. If that's the deal, she needs our help."
Dean laid back on his bed. "You're the special one, brother." He looked to Sam. "You're the one whose help she needs – not mine."
"You're not even going to try? You're going just lie here while I do all of the work?"
"Been pannin' out pretty well for us so far."
Sam studied Dean for a few moments. "Are you scared of her?" Not that he expected an answer, but Dean's past run-ins with those like Sam had been near fatal. Was that why he wanted to ignore the demon aspect? Any excuse to avoid Tabitha Jordan?
Dean stared at the ceiling as he locked his hands together behind his head. He figured Sam wasn't stupid enough to think he'd answer that. Or if he did say anything, it wouldn't be what his little brother wanted to hear. So, when he rolled over onto his side and plopped a pillow over his head, he hoped Sam wouldn't press the issue.
"I didn't sleep great last night," he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "We'll figure out our next move tomorrow."
-
Tabitha Jordan quietly shut the door as she entered her home. It was much later than she'd told Audrey, the maid, when she would be back. After her encounter with Sam Winchester at the school, she'd spent almost two and a half hours driving around, aimlessly. Driving and thinking. About what he'd said. It disturbed her how much he knew about her, things he shouldn't have known.
"Ms. Jordan?"
She placed her violin case on the floor and turned around. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized.
"Your father phoned," Audrey replied as she came to a stop in front of her. She accepted the young woman's coat and purse. "He would appreciate it if you'd return the call. He's at the Raphael Hotel, on the Plaza."
"Did he say why he called?" she asked as she picked up her case again.
"I suppose he wanted to make certain you were all right. The business with the Myers girl has the media badgering him more than usual." She paused as she hung up the coat in the nearby closet. "Did those two young men find you, by the way?"
Tabitha's eyes widened briefly. "Who?"
"They said the were from the University newspaper. Wanted to interview you." She noticed the expression on Tabitha's face. "Should I have sent them away? Your father didn't seem concerned when I mentioned them to him."
She shook her head. "Don't worry about it. They shouldn't be back." She smiled. "I'll be in the piano room for the rest of the evening."
"Yes, Ms. Jordan."
She watched the woman walk back towards the kitchen. Once Audrey was gone, she sighed. She'd been through the a lot the past few weeks. This Sam Winchester was the last thing she needed. Sighing again, she headed down the hallway.
After she passed several regular doors, she came to a stop at a sliding one which she opened. The large room had once served as the parlor but it was converted into a 'piano room' eventually. The grand, one of the few things in the room, was also one of the few things of her mother's Tabitha had left.
She placed her violin case against the wall and let her bag of music drop onto the bench. As she sat down, she pulled her cell from inside of it and dialed her father's cell number.
"Hello?"
She smiled slightly at the sound of his voice. "Hey, Dad," she greeted.
"Tabitha! Where were you earlier? Audrey said you didn't come home when you'd -"
"I was just driving around," she interrupted. "Nothing to worry about. How are things on your end?"
"I'm headed to D.C., as soon as the Gala is over. Jeff is concerned about the recent press, about that Myers girl. Says I shouldn't be here for a few weeks. What about you? Did you hear from Martin Sellers?"
"Yes. He phoned earlier this morning." She turned around to face the piano, her eyes studied the glimmering pearl and ebony keys. "He said they understand why I chose to take a year off, before I went back to school."
"They'd better! Martin certainly owes me. He wouldn't be a Harvard Law alumni himself if not for me."
Her fingers brushed over the keys. "Dad ... I want to ask you about something." She paused. "About Mom."
After a few moments of dead silence, he said, "What about her?"
"Does ... does anyone else know about what really happened to her, besides Audrey?"
"Tabitha, why would you dredge up something so horrible?"
She sighed. "I'm sorry, Dad, it's ... no one else knows, do they?"
"Absolutely not. Why are you bringing it up, after all of these years?"
'Because the same thing happened to mine ...' she remembered Sam say at the school. Her fingers pressed against her forehead. "No reason. Just ... forget I brought it up, Dad."
A short silence followed. "Audrey said two boys from the University visited the house today. Did you speak with them?"
"Yes, a little."
"Did they want to know about the Fetterman issue?"
"No, they didn't ask about anything connected to the campaign. It was a simple article about me, only me."
"As long as you conducted yourself properly ..."
"I always do. You've made it clear since I was a child what you've expected of me. I haven't disappointed you yet, have I?"
"Of course not. I'm extremely proud of you. And I'll be more so once you return to school." There was a pause and voices on Mr. Jordan's end of the line. "Tabitha, I'm terribly busy."
She sighed. "Yes, I understand."
"I'll phone you tomorrow."
"Goodbye, Dad."
Goodbye." The line went dead.
She clicked off her cell and tossed it back into her bag. Her attention shifted to the piano keys. Slowly, her hands rested on them, then, quietly, she began to play. The tune was an old lullaby, it was another of the few things of her mother's she had. Though she'd been too young to remember, she knew her mother would sing it to her every night.
At the open door, Audrey decided to leave Tabitha alone for the rest of the evening. Quietly, she slid the door shut. For a few moments, she listened to tune, the words coming to her at the same time.
'Children's dreams cannot be broken ... life is but a lovely token ... Words of God are softly spoken ... all through the night ...'
-
Slowly, Dean's eyes drifted open. As soon as they did, he squinted at the awful brightness of the motel room. He rolled onto his right side and realized why this was. Sam, already fully dressed, sat in a chair by the window, blinds completely raised, and just stared out. At the parking lot, apparently. The fact they had an east-facing room made it all the worse.
"How long you been up?" he asked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He wiped a hand over his face and squinted less as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight.
"5:30," Sam said without even giving him a glance. Across the parking lot was a two-lane highway. Beyond that, nothing but empty land. He thought a house might be on the horizon, but he wasn't sure.
"5:30? Jesus ... why'd you get up that early?" Dean asked as he pulled on the same shirt he'd worn the day before. "You have another nightmare?"
"I couldn't sleep." He leaned back in the chair as he looked over his shoulder to Dean. "I couldn't stop thinking about Tabitha Jordan."
"Her? Why?"
"Something about yesterday." He shrugged as he turned back to the window, the encounter at the school fresh in his mind again. "Did you see the look on her face when you mentioned Jewel Myers?"
Dean hadn't noticed anything. Then, he wasn't too happy with the way she'd treated them the entire time. Where did she get off being such a bitch? "No," he said. He leaned over and grabbed one of the duffels they'd brought in from the car. "Why?"
"I have a feeling she's responsible, accident or not."
"Ha, yes." Dean yanked out a half-full bag of Doritos and opened it. "You think her dad might have somethin' to do with it?" His words were muffled by the chips in his mouth. "Didn't you say he was some super conservative Christian?"
Sam raised an eyebrow slightly. "Yeah. So?"
He shrugged. "Maybe it was the gay thing."
"The gay ... thing?"
"Yeah. Aren't all of those guys into the whole 'God Hates Fags' deal? Why would his daughter be any different?" he said, not catching the Look Sam had given him. "She made it pretty clear yesterday she knew Jewel was ... that way. And she didn't like it."
Sam would've addressed Dean's choice of 'that way' over simply saying 'lesbian' if his argument didn't have merit. Steven Jordan had been on the anti-gay rights agenda during his campaign. The issue was the one he'd used any opportunity to spout his closed-minded opinion on to anyone who would listen. A parent's beliefs factored heavily on a child's – Dean was proof of that.
"Or not," he went on when Sam didn't respond. "I'm just sayin', that's all."
Sam gazed out of the window once more. Tonganoxie, Lawrence, all of these towns, even the ones not in Kansas, they had a decidedly more conservative mindset. He'd never noticed how drastically until he went to Stanford. However, not everyone in Middle America shared Steven Jordan's beliefs and not every conservative was like him. It just seemed as though the only people who voted were.
"It couldn't have been easy for her," he murmured.
"For who?"
"Jewel. You know what it's like here, Dean. How some people react to what's different."
"You have experience in being a lesbian in a small town?" asked Dean as his eyebrows arched in semi-amusement. "Dude, where was I during that?"
His face twisted up in aggravation, Sam sighed as he stood then grabbed his jacket from the dresser. "I'm going out," he shortly replied as he opened the door.
"Hey! Sam, I was only screwin' with you!" Dean called. He flinched a bit when the door slammed shut behind Sam. A moment later, he heard the Impala's engine turnover. "Goddamnit!" He bolted to the window just in time to see Sam drive off. "Where the hell is he going?"
-
Tabitha raised her head as the door to the piano room slid open and Audrey leaned inside, a strange expression on her face. "Yes?" she asked, curious as to why she would interrupt her usual practice. The one time of the day she absolutely loathed to be bothered.
"Ms. Jordan, I'm sorry to intrude, but ... one of the gentlemen from yesterday is here." She pressed her lips together. "He insists he speak with you. I explained you were never to be disturbed during this time, but he will not leave."
Her eyes narrowed. She knew exactly which one it was – the one who'd chased her to her car. She'd had a feeling he would be back. She also had a feeling she wouldn't get rid of him with her usual methods.
"Shall I phone the police? He is trespassing."
"No. Show him in, Audrey." She focused on her sheet music, using a pencil to make a few notes on the page. "I'll handle the matter myself."
"Yes, ma'am." The door slid shut.
Sam had been leaning against one of the stucco pillars when Audrey returned to the front doors.
"Ms. Jordan says she'll see you," Audrey reported. She stepped back to allow him inside. "She's in the middle of a session," she continued as she closed the door. "She doesn't appreciate being disturbed when she's working on her music. You shouldn't be surprised if she's short with you."
Tabitha could be more unpleasant than she'd been the day before? "She must be pretty good to be accepted to Juilliard."
Audrey paused. "Yes, she is." She gestured. "Follow me, please."
"Why didn't she go?" Sam asked as he glanced around the hall. The inside of the Jordan home wasn't overly posh. In fact, it felt as though it wasn't lived in – hardly any décor beyond well-tended plants and paintings by more modern artists. Rather Spartan, really.
"You should ask her," Audrey answered as they neared the room. Even down the hall, Sam could hear the piano. He'd heard enough classical to know Tabitha was more than an average talent. She slid the door open then motioned for him to go inside. "Here you are."
"Thanks."
She kept an eye on him for a few moments then left them alone. Still, she kept within shouting distance, should Ms. Jordan need her.
Though she was aware Sam was in the room, Tabitha made no indication of it. Instead, she simply finished the piece then paused before she lifted her head. Sam lingered at the other end of the piano, watching her.
"One of Chopin's Nocturnes, right?" he said as soon as she looked at him.
She folded her sheet music as she stood. It didn't amaze her that someone like him would've been familiar with it. The piece she'd played was one of his two most well-known Nocturnes. "He was one of the finest composers to ever exist," she casually replied. "Not as though you'd know anything about it."
He shrugged. "I think he's overrated. Beethoven was more interesting."
She dropped the music into the bench and laughed. "Beethoven?" she scoffed, her tone as condescending as ever. "Surely something you heard on one of those awful Learning Channel programs!" She sighed, a bit disgusted. "They've no sense of talent or style."
"Actually, I came to the conclusion on my own," he said as he approached her end of the piano.. "They were both part of an introductory course on classical and baroque artists I took at Stanford."
For the first time since she'd met him, Tabitha truly looked at him. The expression on her face was one he'd not seen before. Not exactly 'surprise', but she'd definitely dropped the disdain.
"Well," she murmured after giving him another critical once over. "You certainly don't seem like a person who would've attended a university, let alone a respectable one."
"You don't seem like a person who would audition for Juilliard only to opt for Pre-Law at KU."
She stared at him a moment. "My, didn't you read a lot about me?" She closed the top of the piano bench then glanced at him. Apparently, he expected an answer to an indirect question. "It was better for everyone I remained close to home."
"Why choose Law over music? Doesn't KU have a program of its own?"
She picked up the bag she'd had with her the day before and sifted through the contents. "Music is a hobby, not a career," she evenly stated.
"That's why you auditioned twice?"
Angrily, she slammed the bag on the top of the highly polished piano. "I was sixteen years old. I hadn't a clue as to how the real world worked! I thought it was what I wanted, but my father helped me realize it wasn't."
He gestured to the bag filled with her violin sheet music. "You still apply as much attention to it now. Seems like a lot of work for a simple hobby."
Her eyes narrowed briefly as she shoved the bag onto the floor between them. "Just what is it you want from me?" she demanded. "It can't be related to my schooling decisions."
"Must be intense to be the daughter of Steven Jordan."
"Oh, this is about him?"
"No. It's about you. With a man like him for a father, you can't have very much privacy. I was able to read your entire life history on the Internet."
Her lips pursed. "It's a small price to pay as the daughter of the finest prosecutor Johnson County has ever known."
Sam smiled a little. "I'm not a reporter. You don't have to recite the speech for me." He watched her take a seat on the bench. "This can't be an easy existence. Living under a microscope 24/7."
"It isn't as difficult as most people believe."
"Must be tough to keep a secret, though."
She eyed him, suspiciously. "I have no secrets."
"Maybe not you, but take what happened to your mother." He shook his head. "Must've been one hell of a spin job to cover that up. Keep it off the record and out of the media."
Her body relaxed. "If one knows the right people, one can create any story one desires." Suddenly, she laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"I just remembered when my father told me the truth about what happened to my mother. Or what he claims is the truth, at any rate." She tilted her head to one side, a faint smile on her face. "He thought it was a warning."
"Why would he think that?"
She placed her palms flat on the bench behind her then leaned back. "Did you know my dad was a defense attorney before he was a prosecutor?"
"No." That was a tiny detail Ash failed to mention to them. "I didn't."
"He was," she said. "He won almost every case. And for people who were almost always guilty." She looked around the room, the smile gone and her expression distant now. "That part of his life, it's why we have all of this. The rest of the world doesn't know where his real money came from. He made certain they didn't. He was comfortable with it in those days, though."
"And then your mother was killed."
She slid her gaze back to him. "He said a demon, in human form, with eerie yellow eyes appeared by my crib one night. Never touched me," she quietly said. "But it killed my mom in a fire. He thought it was a sign he was on the wrong path. Suddenly, he found religion and changed sides. Whatever it was he saw that night, it made my father the man he is today."
Sam thought it interesting how varied people were in their reactions to the demon. His father became obsessed with it, Max's wrote it off as the product of too many drinks, and Mr. Jordan believed it to be a sign.
"What about you?"
Her eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"
"Did you change?"
"I was a baby."
"I meant more recently. Within the last year or so?"
"Not at all."
"You haven't noticed anything unusual about yourself?" He wasn't sure how to address the issue with this girl. She hadn't been what passed for nice until then, he didn't want to jeopardize it by flat out asking her if she had an ability. And, if so, what kind and was she using it to hurt people?
"Depends on what you mean by 'unusual'. What do you mean?"
"Other people I've met, ones who've had the same experience with the demon, they've developed strange abilities within the last year or so." She didn't move or change expression as he spoke. "Telekinesis or the ability to 'persuade' people to do things."
She slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no."
"Maybe something different, then? Anything you weren't capable of before?"
"Nothing." She sat up straight. "What changed for you?"
He looked away. "It's the reason we're even here, in this town."
"Oh?" Her tone of voice reflected a certain amount of interest. "Would you mind telling me?"
She appeared intrigued by it. No one ever had that reaction. Confusion, yes. Intrigue, no. "I can see things before they happen."
"See things? Like visions? Premonitions?"
"You could call it that, I guess."
She nodded, still rather fascinated by the revelation. "And what did you 'see' which brought you here?"
"Jewel Myers' murder."
Tabitha didn't even react, she only gazed up at him for a few seconds. "You did? If that was the case, why didn't you stop it?"
"We tried."
"'We'?"
"My brother and I. He was the one with me yesterday, at the school."
"Mmm, yes. I remember him." She paused before she asked, "Why couldn't you save her?"
"How she was killed in the vision, it didn't match how she actually died. Well, the cause of death was the same – strangulation. But how that happened, it wasn't."
Tabitha's brow furrowed in confusion. "How so?"
"In the vision, Jewel was murdered inside of the high school. Dean and I waited there all night. We never saw her. Or the thing that killed her."
She sighed heavily as she rose to her feet. "Sounds as though this ability of yours is useless. As I understand it, she died in her own bedroom."
"Still, something did it." He studied her. She had the most unreadable face of anyone he'd ever met. She guarded herself extremely well. He watched as she lingered by the fireplace mantle where she gazed upon framed photographs of her family. "You never did tell me how you knew Jewel."
"What business is it of yours?" she snapped as she turned away from the mantle.
"Just curious." He glanced around the room. "I've met her family, I've been inside of her house. The two of you don't seem to have a single thing in common." He leveled his gaze on Tabitha. "Except the high school."
She locked her hands behind her back. "I've been using the high school's music room for years. An arrangement my father managed at my request," she explained. "When Jewel began to attend there, I crossed paths with her fairly regularly. She was a cheerleader, involved with several activities which kept her after classes." She shrugged. "She was polite. We said hello every so often."
"Until you found out she was lesbian." He'd tried to keep a judgmental tone from his voice. Still, it irritated him. Tabitha was different herself, whether she admitted it or not, and she chose to alienate another person based on sexual preference.
"It was more than that," Tabitha said as she took measured steps toward him. Her eyes never wavered from his. "She developed an inane crush on me, she refused to leave me alone despite my repeated requests she do so." She came to a halt a few feet in front of Sam. "However, it was impossible for her to accept the fact I was not interested in her. And never would be. As a result, I went to great lengths to avoid her until she graduated." A slight smile appeared on her face as she gazed up at him. "There. Does that ... satisfy your curiosity?"
It didn't explain why Jaina hated her so much, but Sam couldn't tell if Tabitha was lying to him. Usually, he could pick up clues through body language, eye movement, voice inflections – not with her. Either she was telling the truth or she was the greatest liar since Stephen Glass.
"For now," he finally answered.
"Good." Her smile remained as she cocked her head to the left. "Perhaps you could return the favor?"
However, if there was one thing he could pick up it was how differently she regarded him now. Ever since he'd mentioned Stanford, Tabitha's manner had changed. As though she didn't consider him a waste of her time.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"No."
"You were looking at me rather strangely. I thought something might be wrong."
"You wanted to ask me about -"
"Yes," she cut in as her arms fell to her sides. "About this so-called 'demon'. You haven't told me why it would be interested in me, or do all of these things you claim it has. Obviously, it must have a reason."
"We don't know the details, but it's big."
"And how big is 'big'?"
"A full scale war between us and them."
"Ah." She pivoted on her heel, turning her back on him. "Well, I have plans and dreams of my own. None of them include a demon or a war." She pivoted again. "Since I haven't any abilities, perhaps I'm not a part of this? According to you, I should have a strange power by now, correct? Maybe you're mistaken about me."
"I doubt it."
She sighed once more as she checked her watch. "Honestly, I simply do not have time to discuss this any further today," she said. "If you're quite finished with your business, would you mind leaving? I've a lot to attend to."
"Something more important than this?"
"A friend of my father's from Harvard Law is due to visit in a few days," she replied as she walked to the open doorway. She leaned against the door-frame and looked back to him. "Because of the campaign, I took a year off. I'd hoped to begin in the Spring but I might not be able."
"You're going to Harvard Law?" It shouldn't have surprised him, still, it did. It was so difficult to be accepted there, and Tabitha acted like it was no big deal.
"Of course. My father went there. It's been his dream for me to follow in his footsteps. After everything he's done for me, it's the least I could do for him."
For once, Sam felt something other than annoyance or pity for Tabitha, he empathized. Also, he found it ironic that what she felt obligated to do for her father was what he'd chosen to do to rebel against his.
"It's hard to break away from what your father expects of you," he murmured as he joined her by the doorway.
She snorted. "What would you know of it?"
"My dad wanted me to be like my brother, go into the family business. I went to school instead. It pushed us even farther apart."
She smirked, slightly amused. "I can't fathom your father doing anything of consequence."
Lucky for her, Dean wasn't there. Girl or not, he would've punched her teeth down her throat for that. Though he felt like doing it himself, Sam merely shrugged and replied, "He died trying to help people. People like us."
Her eyes darkened. "I'm nothing like you," she hissed. With that, she used both of her hands to violently shove him into the hallway. Then, she slid the door shut in his face.
Sam stood there, stunned, and wondered what the hell had just happened. For ten minutes, she was actually pleasant. Then, suddenly, she was her old self. It was almost as though she hated to think of him as being equal to her, the disgust and rancor in her voice when she'd said it. He was beginning to agree with Dean, maybe she was just a -
Inside of the room, he could hear Tabitha playing the piano once more. This time, though, it wasn't classical, it was much simpler. After a few bars, he recognized it as an old lullaby - "All Through The Night". He didn't remember it himself, but Dean said their mother sang it to Sam when he was a baby.
Because of that, their father wouldn't allow either of them to even mention it in his presence. What he didn't know, was Dean would sing it for Sam when he wasn't around. Years later, however, Sam came to the conclusion Dean did it more to comfort himself than his little brother.
"May I show you to the door?"
Sam turned to find Audrey beside him. "No, thanks. I can find my own way out."
-
End Chapter Four