Chapter 9: More Than a Feeling

Everything was going smoothly on Jimmy's first hunt.

They got into town just before noon the following day, checking out the Frontier Museum during business hours and interviewing the victims. There was no CCTV footage to review, of course, but the descriptions and local legends narrowed the search for their vengeful spirit down to the previous owner of the house, one Angus Greeley, who was apparently angered that his home had become a tourist trap.

Unfortunately, Greeley had been burned alive by his 'hired help', but they discovered in short order that, in an apparent ritual that involved chickens, goat blood and cutting out Greeley's eyes had left earthly remains, in the form of the man's eyes being preserved in formaldehyde. The eyes in question were on display in the museum in the 'curiosities and local lore' wing. Flashing their skillfully crafted FBI badges (of course Jimmy couldn't escape any of the James Brown jokes from the local cops, which of course tickled Dean immensely), they were given domain to case the place after hours, letting the usual guard take the night off.

The place was huge. An old plantation house, it boasted two floors, five bathrooms, two kitchens, 8 bedrooms, a library and a freaking ballroom/dining hall. All three agreed that it was grotesque, but secretly admired the excess.

Having ditched their suits and ties in favour of jeans and work boots, the trio had tackled the job head on, figuring it wouldn't take more than half an hour to get the whole thing done.

Of course, that was before Dean got chucked over the second floor railing when he tried to enter the room where the remains were located and Sam had been blown across the hall, crashing through the door marked "Gold Rush", leaving Jimmy alone with just a shotgun between the spirit and himself.

"Uh, guys?" Jimmy almost froze, forgetting momentarily how to work the pump-action on the sawed-off shotgun he held in his hands, taking a step back and yelping as the spirit rushed him with a bone-rattling shriek, raising the shotgun like a shield.

"HEY!" Dean had made his way back up the stairs, firing off a round from his own shotgun, dissipating the spirit for the moment. Giving Jimmy a withering look, he turned and trotted back towards the door that Sam had crashed through. "SAMMY!"

Jimmy cursed himself under his breath for losing his cool, even for a moment. It could have easily cost him his life. He jogged after Dean, re-affirming his resolve. It was the first time in his mind that he'd ever seen an actual spirit. He was allowed one minor screw up, right?

A few yards ahead, Dean had ducked into the room with the destroyed door to check on his brother.

He didn't the spirit of Greeley materialise behind him, stalking through the door.

"DEAN! BEHIND YOU!" Jimmy shouted, picking up his pace and skidding to a halt at the entryway.

Dean was to the right, pulling Sam to his feet, which fortunately gave Jimmy a clear shot- which this time he took, scattering the spirit's incorporeal form.

Or so he thought.

A moment later, Jimmy felt something cool and oily wrap around his throat, pulling him off his feet. He could smell dust and decay and something that reminded him vaguely of campfire from the not-quite-material that gripped him, leaving a musty taste in the back of his throat.

Sam was on his feet now, blood sheeting down the left side of his face from a nasty cut he'd sustained when he'd landed, or perhaps from the door. Jimmy thought it was strange that he was currently more concerned with how Sam had gotten the gash than he was with the spirit currently choking the life out of him.

Then he realised he couldn't breathe.

Dropping the shotgun, he tried to pry the arm from around his throat with little effect.

Dean pulled his own up, lining up the shot- but he couldn't get clear without hitting Jimmy in the process.

The rock salt wouldn't kill him, Jimmy thought idly, but it would hurt like a son of a bitch.

Jimmy felt the spirit chuckle as its free hand suddenly cover his nose and mouth, jerking his head back. He felt panic begin to bubble up in his gut, a fleeting, sickly yellow sensation that made him light-headed.

Great, he thought idly. I survive the apocalypse just to get strangled to death by a freaking ghost...

As his vision began to grey, he saw Dean and Sam edge around the spirit in an attempt to flank, to which the spirit tightened it's grip, pulling his head back. Jimmy could feel his fingers tingling and his toes had gone numb.

Just as he was about to lose consciousness, something curious happened. He felt a warmth that started in his chest and spread outward into his limbs, his vision suddenly becoming clear- the dim hallway lit up and he could see the gilded wallpaper in stunning detail. His eyebrows furrowed, he glanced around the hallway and realised that he could faintly see the shades of people from all variety of eras. They didn't have the same substance as the spirit that currently held him in his grip- they were like echos, reverberating through time.

His eyes found Dean, who was currently staring at him with a mixture of horror and... something else, his green eyes wide with... surprize? Shock, perhaps? Jimmy couldn't tell, and in the next moment, the spirit let out a shriek of agony and Jimmy found himself engulfed in ethereal flames as Greeley burned away.

He sat on the floor, stunned. What the hell just happened? Sam and Dean had said that in order to expel the spirit, they needed to burn the remains- but the Winchesters were still in the hall, right in front of him. Backing away from him...

"Jimmy," Dean said, his tone soft and cautious. "Get your shit together man..."

Jimmy frowned, pulling himself up. He shuddered as something surged through him, something warm and powerful, and suddenly the decorative electric lanterns lining the hallway all simultaneously exploded in a shower of sparks. Somewhere, perhaps in one of the rooms, he heard glass shattering as though someone were throwing bottles or dishware against the walls.

Panic surged through him at the commotion, combined with the way the Winchesters were watching him- somewhere between awe and fear, and with it came another burst of that warm energy. Despite the fact that there were no longer lights in the hallway, a bright, pure white luminescence flickered around him, almost blinding in its intensity.

"Jimmy!" Dean tried again.

"God," Jimmy breathed. "Help me..."

[XXXXXX]

Dean had bit back his irritation at Jimmy when the dude froze up. He'd wanted to slap the shit out of the guy, but Sam was his primary concern, and then Greeley's freaky preserved eyeballs.

"DEAN! BEHIND YOU!" He heard Jimmy call out, but he had set the damn shotgun down to get Sam up. It was within reach, but by the time he'd turned around, Greeley was already coming at him.

A half second later, he changed his mind. He wasn't going to beat the crap out of Jimmy for freezing, after all. He'd just give him shit about it, because the dude had just pulled through at the last second, blasting Greeley into aether just before it got the chance to go for round two on Dean.

Of course, that had only lasted for a second, as the spirit reappeared behind the hunter-in-training and now had him in a headlock.

"Shit," Dean swore, grabbing the shotgun off the floor and tagging Sam on the shoulder. "Come on, Sammy, up up up..."

Sam sobered quickly, and both approached the hall. Dean raised the shotgun, but it was obvious he wasn't going to get a clear shot, and the spirit of Angus Greeley had Jimmy in a choke-hold. If he wasn't careful, the guy was going to get his freaking head snapped off by Casper the Strangler.

He exchanged a look with Sam, silently agreeing to try and get Greeley from the sides, hoping one of them could throw the spirit off. The fortunate thing about ghosts, is that they weren't always that bright.

Just as he was about to nod the go-ahead to Sam, shit went straight to the Twilight Zone.

He could see Jimmy's eyes flutter as he began to pas out from lack of oxygen, flying open a moment later and staring wildly around the room. Dean's breath caught in his throat as he saw the light in those blue orbs- unearthly and stunning in its purity.

Cas, Dean's mind immediately threw at him. But, no- the guy getting the life choked out of him looked dazed, maybe a little freaked out, his eyes skittering around the hall like he was on some kind of bad acid trip.

Then those freaky, glowing blue eyes fell on him, brow furrowed in mild confusion and slightly bemused.

Jimmy.

Well, that answered one of Dean's questions.

He'd barely worked it out when Greeley shrieked and erupted in cleansing flames, sent to whatever beyond vengeful spirits go to.

Oh, but of course the screwed up part of the equation didn't stop there. Nothing could ever go that easy for Dean Winchester.

Jimmy hit the ground, gasping, and that freaky white light seemed to surge. Dean figured it'd be wise to give the guy some space, and he saw with some satisfaction that Sam had come to the same conclusion.

"Jimmy," he tried. Maybe if he could get through to the guy, he thought, he could get him to calm whatever shit was going on with him. "Get your shit together, man..."

Jimmy got himself up, staring at Dean in puzzlement. Son of a bitch didn't even realise what he was doing. All three jumped as the white light surged, and every item of glass exploded from the pressure that was building in the hallway, like tension before a storm.

Jimmy tilted his head in such a Cas way that it freaked Dean right the hell out. Then he looked to Dean again, his eyes going wide as it dawned on him finally- and Dean saw sheer panic written on the other man's face, accompanied by another surge of blinding energy and more breaking glass.

"JIMMY!" Dean shouted again. God, he hoped he wouldn't have to take the dude out... that would really just cap off this whole week.

He heard Jimmy say something he couldn't quite make out, but the message in his expression was clear- he didn't have any control over this. He'd panicked when the spirit had him, his adrenaline kicking up, and now it was running wild.

Dean was hovering over the idea of using the Enochian banishment sigil, his fingers brushing the hilt of his knife, when suddenly the problem resolved itself.

Jimmy's eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor. Rather gracelessly, at that.

Slowly, when it didn't seem like anything was going to explode and Jimmy hadn't moved for a good thirty seconds, Dean felt the tension go out of his muscles. He looked over at Sam, who looked just as freaked out as he felt, trauma written all over his features.

"What the FUCK was that?" Dean found himself half screaming, nearly hysterical. He didn't know whether to be pissed off or scared shitless. He settled on somewhere around the middle.

Sam's mouth opened and closed several times before he just shook his head. "I don't know... Cas, maybe?"

Dean exhaled heavily, moving over to Jimmy cautiously. The dude looked like he was out cold.

"Christ, Sammy," he said. "What the hell do we do?"
Neither of them could come up with any good ideas.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy awoke twenty-five miles later, laid out on the back seat.

He shifted onto his back, groaning softly, covering his face with his arm. The lights passing overhead from the side of the highway were too bright, each one coming like a physical blow.

Sam looked back at him over his shoulder from the front passenger seat, worry etched into his features. "Hey," he said. "You okay?"

Jimmy glared at the space above his aching eyes for a moment, then carefully pushed himself upright. He frowned, realising that they were in the car. Had they killed the ghost?

"Wurr.." he tried, finding that his mouth was full of cotton and not wanting to cooperate with his brain just yet.

Sam looked to Dean briefly, then back to Jimmy. "Uh," he articulated.

Jimmy swallowed, trying to wet his parched throat, then tried again. "What happened..."

He saw Dean's eyes flash over him in the rear-view mirror for just a moment. "You flipped out on us."

"Do you remember anything," Sam asked, his tone soft and worried. "Do you remember what happened to Greeley?"

Jimmy frowned. What happened to... the spirit. He remembered. The thing had grabbed him, putting him into a choke-hold. He thought had thought he was going to pass out or die, and then...

"... Are you guys all right?" Well. That works, I guess, he thought to himself. He couldn't really think of anything else to say. The idea was too foreign to him, and he wasn't prepared just yet to think about it.

Sam gave him a weak smile. "Yeah, Jimmy. We're fine. Are you okay, though?"

Jimmy thought about it for a moment, then gave a nod.

"Head hurts like hell," he admitted. He was exhausted, as well.

"Yeah, well," Dean threw in. "Guess you don't just throw around phenomenal cosmic power without getting kicked in the teeth."

Sam shot his brother a bitch face, then turned back around to Jimmy.

"Hey," Dean said, turning for just a moment toward the back seat. "You good, now?"

Jimmy leaned his head back against the window, closing his eyes. He searched himself with his senses, but he didn't feel that well of energy now, as he had in the museum. Just the faint hum of the angel's usual presence. "Yeah, I think so." He felt tired, but his thoughts were too tangled at the moment to allow him to drift off.

The rest of the drive back to the cabin was spent in an ambiguous silence, as all three men puzzled over the events of the day.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy could tell Dean was pissed as they pulled up to the cabin.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding," the hunter grumbled, squinting out through the windshield.

Sam sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle in tandem with his brother, Jimmy following shortly behind.

"Hello, boys," the figure standing on the top step drawled.

Meg leaned against the support beam connecting the porch overhang to the wooden stairs, arms folded over her chest, her smirk oozing down at them.

"Meg," Dean spat as he slammed the car door behind him. "What are you doing back here?"

The demon shrugged, unshouldering a leather bag and tossing it to Sam, who just barely caught it.

"What's this," Sam wondered aloud, only half directed at the demon as he opened the bag.

"Oh," she said off-handedly. "While you boys were out fartin' around, I figured I'd lend a hand."

Jimmy looked over (well, more like around) Sam's shoulder, peering into the bag.

Sam pulled out a long, sharpened bone, holding it up in the pale moonlight.

"Bone of a righteous mortal," Meg purred. "That was on your 'Kill-Dick' shopping list, wasn't it?"

Dean inspected the bone, then shot Meg an icy, skeptical look.

"How do we know this is legit," he asked, pinning her with his eyes. "Why should we trust you?"

Meg gave him a mildly offended look in return, shifting her stance. "It's my ass, too," she countered. "Remember?"

Sam sighed, placing the bone back in the bag and zipping it up. "Uh, thanks, Meg..." he mumbled, as though thanking the demon had somehow soiled his tongue.

Meg smiled sweetly at the younger Winchester. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Where'd you get it," Dean said, his eyes still set on the demon. "Who'd you have to kill?"

The demon rolled her eyes in agitation. "Does that look fresh to you, dumbass?" She said, arching an eyebrow. "Relax, it's stolen. I did a little grave-robbing in Pennsylvania."

Jimmy couldn't help a small smile at the irony in the statement.

Dean sighed, looking at Sam and shaking his head.

"If you're screwing with us," he said as he climbed the steps, shoving past Meg.

"I'm not, not that you'd get off your high horse long enough to realise it."

A strained truce evolved without discussion as the four entered the cabin, but it didn't stop Dean from setting up a devil's trap and insisting Meg spend the night in it.

[XXXXXX]

Jimmy got tired of hearing Dean and Meg bicker in short order, and excused himself to the porch, where it was at least somewhat muffled.

He sat on the top step, sipping a beer as he watched a few meteors streak across the night sky. He was really beginning to enjoy the peace and quiet, being so far removed from civilization.

His thoughts wandered, mostly avoiding what had happened earlier that evening. After what little had been said in the car, none of them had broached the subject again thus far. He figured it would come eventually, probably when Meg wasn't around.

Her alliance is out of necessity. She will not betray you before the Leviathans are destroyed.

Jimmy frowned at a rock, as he had no physical focus to turn his ire toward in response to the voice.

"Where the hell have you been," he murmured aloud.

...resting. The angel sounded strained, barely there.

Jimmy sighed. Three days without a word, and the angel tunes back in as though he hadn't missed a beat.

"Cas," he said, before he had really thought about what he was going to say. "... Were you there, earlier? What... happened, back at the museum?"

I saw, Castiel replied. I don't know. Perhaps it is because we have become so deeply intertwined.

Jimmy almost cringed at that. "What do you mean, 'intertwined'..." he asked, taking another drink.

When after several long minutes passed without response, Jimmy sighed and went back in. He was too exhausted to deal with the angel at the moment, and Castiel seemed too weak to carry on the conversation.

At least he knew now that Cas was all right.