Lonely Is the Night
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke and the CW – i.e., not mine. Jayne Gibson, Lynn and Steve Juarez, the Hannigans… all mine. I write for pleasure, not profit – and I have no money, CW, so good luck suing me!
AN: Big thank yous to angeleyenc, ColtFan165, SPN Mum, Guest, AshlynPaige92, HeartofBruce, Guest, ThreeMoons3, Spelllesswonder29, Kat, LoveyAnne and Buxom Bard for all the reviews!
Chapter 9: Blue on Black
The truck was silent, save for the quiet strains of Janis Joplin songs coming from the cassette deck. Neither Lynn nor Jayne had spoken since leaving the county office and taking off down the dark road. Normally, her sister's silence would annoy the crap out of Lynn, but at the moment she wasn't much in the mood for talking either.
She stared out the window at the thick trees lining the dark road. The sky was clouded over, and Lynn couldn't see the moon or the stars. Every once in a while, an eerie green streetlamp would appear, brightening a small spot of pavement.
Her sister shifted slightly on the bench seat and tapped her finger against the steering wheel, keeping time with the song on the radio. Lynn glanced briefly at her, and then looked up into the rearview mirror. Her brother's car was following close behind them, and just up ahead of them was the Impala.
It was a small relief, knowing that Andy hadn't killed anyone – that except for his supernatural ability, he was a normal, twenty-something hobo. But that didn't change how his brother was anything but normal – Anson Weams, or Webber, or whoever he was, had used his gift to murder innocent people.
Suddenly, the Impala's brakes squealed, and the car veered sharply off onto the shoulder, jerking to a stop. The engine shut down immediately. Lynn's eyes went wide and she sat up straighter on the edge of her seat as her sister swore, and pulled over behind the Impala. Dean was already climbing out of the driver's seat and racing around the front of the car. Sam's door swung open before Dean reached it, and Sam stumbled halfway out into the street.
Steve's car braked behind the truck. Lynn exchanged a short look with her sister before both she and Jayne hopped down from Janis' cab and hurried over to the Impala. "Hey!" she could hear Dean barking at his brother, shaking him by the shoulder. "Hey! Sam!"
Lynn reached the car before her sister and leaned on the open passenger door, peering at Sam through the open window. "What happened?" she demanded.
Dean looked up at her and shrugged. Jayne arrived on the scene mere seconds later, and Steve jogged up right after her. Andy, still sitting in the backseat, looked from Sam, to Dean, to the other three, and back, clearly not sure what was happening or what to do about it. Sam frowned up at everyone and took a deep breath. "It's Webber," he told them. "He's going after the hostess, from the diner. Andy, where's the nearest dam?"
Andy blinked at him. "Tracy?" he asked, ignoring Sam's question. "He's going after Tracy?"
"Hey, Andy, focus," Dean ordered, glancing at the other psychic. "Where's the dam?"
Andy gave his head a small shake. "Uh… the other side of town… I can get you there, but… wait, what's going to happen to Tracy?"
"He's going to make her jump," Sam informed them, his voice too steady. "We have to hurry."
Dean ran back around to the driver's seat. Andy looked even more panicked than he had before. Lynn watched, wide-eyed, as Sam got back in the car and closed his door. When she glanced at her brother and sister, she found both of them were already returning to their cars.
She jogged after Jayne. They didn't say much as they clambered into the cab, and Jayne was silent as she started the truck and drove off down the road after the Impala. A quick glance in the side mirror revealed Steve's car following close behind them again. Lynn sighed and flopped back against the seat. She couldn't help staring worriedly after Dean's car.
Jayne glanced briefly at her, responding to the sigh, and then returned her eyes to the road. Lynn stared at the Impala some more, playing nervously with her hair. She bit her lower lip, and then looked at Jayne out the corner of her eye.
Her sister didn't seem to notice. Lynn took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter. "You ever notice that every time Sam has a vision, he… well, his brain practically explodes?" she asked.
Jayne glanced at her again. "Um… yeah. I had noticed that."
Her sister's dry, ironic tone had Lynn rolling her eyes. "I just meant… oh, I don't know. It worries me a little."
"Worries everyone," Jayne practically grunted.
"I know, but… it can't be normal, right? Even in the abnormal sense of the word. I just… it seems to really hurt. What if he…? I don't know; what if he has a vision one day and it's like, bam! Aneurysm. Boom! Coma."
Jayne raised her eyebrow skeptically. "You think Sam's visions are going to put him in a coma?"
"I don't know! Maybe. I mean… I don't know."
"I don't know either, Lynn. I mean… Andy's gift doesn't seem to come with crippling migraines. Max didn't have headaches. Neither did Landon. Neither does Steve."
"Exactly!" Lynn crowed triumphantly. "So why is Sam different? Huh? It can't be good."
Jayne shrugged. "Maybe he just fights harder against the visions than the others do. Maybe that's why it hurts so much; he resists too hard."
Lynn frowned at her. "You think Sam fights harder against the visions than Steve fights against the brain fire?"
It was Jayne's turn to roll her eyes and sigh in exasperation. "I don't know, ok?"
They both fell silent after that, staring moodily out the windshield as they followed Dean's car.
They parked their cars before reaching the bridge, hoping not to alert Webber to their presence. Lynn hopped down from the cab before Jayne had even shut off the engine, frowning up ahead at the bright lights on the bridge. The side road they'd pulled onto was dark and shrouded by shrubs and trees, but the bridge was lit up like a Christmas tree.
Steve's car parked just behind them, and he stepped smoothly out of the Superbird, wasting no time in jogging up to his sisters. All five hunters met at the trunk of the Impala. Dean was pulling out weapons, and Sam was still looking up at the bridge. He turned at the approach of the other three. "You guys should probably stay back," he announced, addressing Lynn, Jayne and Dean. "Steve and I will go ahead."
"No arguments here," Dean agreed. "I've had my head screwed with enough for one day."
Jayne nodded briefly and said nothing. Lynn shrugged and tried to smile brightly. "Sure," she murmured. "I'm with you."
Suddenly, the Impala's back door slammed, and Andy came tearing around the bumper. "I'm coming with you," he announced.
"I don't think so," Steve retorted. "Not going to happen."
Sam glared at him out the corner of his eye, and then attempted to smile sympathetically at the other psychic. "Andy, no" he said softly.
"Look, it's Tracy out there," Andy returned determinedly. "And I'm coming."
There was a brief silence, and then Sam breathed out heavily through his nose. "All right," he practically whispered. "Ok, fine."
"What?" Steve snapped. "Uh… no. Not fine. I've already got one civilian to babysit out there – I'm not interested in adding a second."
"Shut up," Andy snapped back, much to Lynn's bewilderment. All of a sudden, the happy-go-lucky hippie that lived out of his van was gone, and replaced by someone a lot more determined and menacing than she'd ever imagined Andy could be. "I can make people do things with my brain. I kind of doubt I still qualify as a civilian."
Then he turned his back on all of them and marched towards the bridge. Sam glanced at the other hunters briefly before shrugging and jogging after Andy. Steve glared at their backs for a moment, shook his head, and then followed.
Lynn watched them go worriedly, and then looked over at Jayne and Dean. Her sister was eying the ground, and Dean had his eyebrow raised as he watched the other three head towards the bridge. He glanced at Lynn and her sister, and smirked.
"Awkward," he quipped.
Jayne rolled her eyes and marched back to her truck. "Shut up," she tossed over her shoulder.
Dean blinked after her, and then turned questioning eyes on Lynn. She shrugged at him. Jayne dug out a few high-power rifles, complete with scopes, and tossed one in Lynn's direction. She caught it, and then the three of them headed for high ground around the bridge, looking out for cover. They found it on the top of the gorge, overlooking the deep, cavernous, cement-sided dam, where the thick shrubs concealed them but they still had a good view of the bridge. There was an iron fence separating the bridge from their side of the gorge. As she picked her way through the undergrowth, Lynn could hear the water rushing out of the large pipes and flowing down the vertical, cement ditches into the deep dark pool below.
There was no one on the bridge yet, save for a lone, rusty blue sedan. Lynn watched the car carefully as she hunkered down in the brush, several feet to the left of her sister, and set up shop. Her sister did the same, and even farther up along the gorge was Dean, settling into the bushes and preparing his rifle.
She swallowed hard and loaded the weapon, her eyes fixed on the bridge.
This was all going to end in tears.
Sam moved quickly and quietly, staying in the shadows as he made his way towards Webber's car. Andy and Steve were behind him, keeping pace. They didn't have a lot of time, and Sam was getting twitchy. He clutched his pistol tightly in both hands, holding it down low.
He stopped just a few feet away from the car, hunkered down by the railing of the bridge. Sam could just barely make out two heads in the front seat through the dirty windows. He glanced back at Steve and Andy, and gave them the nod.
Steve darted across the street and ducked into the shadow of the opposite railing. Sam ran towards the car, making a beeline for the driver's side door. Andy stayed in the shadows, creeping closer to the vehicle.
Crash! Sam smashed his pistol against the driver's side window, shattering the glass. Tracy jumped and Webber, seated behind the wheel, flinched away from the window. "Get out of the car!" Sam barked, leveling the pistol at his face. "Now!"
Webber turned towards the broken window and looked up at Sam with narrowed, murderous eyes. His attempts to duck the glass had failed, and there was cut beside his left eye. "You really don't want to do this," he said, his voice taking on the same low, raspy quality that Andy's had back in the alleyway.
Sam punched him the mouth.
Tracy screamed. Webber didn't move right away, nursing the fresh wound. Andy appeared on the other side of the car and yanked open Tracy's door.
"Andy!" she cried out, stumbling out of the car and into his waiting arms. Sam tuned them out as Andy hugged his ex-girlfriend and murmured comforting nonsense to her, focusing instead on dragging Webber out of his car. The other psychic stumbled into the side of his vehicle as Sam jerked him around by the collar, holding his pistol against Webber's collarbone. Steve appeared at the back bumper just then, holding his gun straight at Webber's head as he marched towards them.
"Don't move, asshole," he barked at Webber. He received a baleful glare for his trouble.
Just then, Andy came flying around the front of the car, leaving a tearful, confused Tracy staring after him, her hands over her mouth and her dress half unbuttoned. He'd been carrying a roll of duct tape since they'd left the car, and now he used it on Webber, brushing past Sam and slapping a length of tape right over Webber's mouth.
Then Andy started kicking Webber in the chest, which had definitely not been part of the plan. Sam instinctively let go of Webber, letting him fall to the pavement, and grabbed Andy by the arms, pulling him away from his brother.
"Andy! No, stop!" Sam bellowed.
"I'll kill him!" Andy shouted, still fighting to reach his brother.
Steve grabbed Webber by the collar of his jacket and hauled him onto his feet, tossing him against the car again. He pressed his arm into the other kid's throat, holding his gun up so Webber was eye-to-eye with barrel. "Don't fucking move," he said again.
Sam kept wrestling with Andy, trusting Steve to keep Webber under control. Unfortunately, no one thought to be keeping an eye on Tracy. Andy kept fighting and kicking and yelling threats at his twin, and Sam kept pulling him away, turning his back on the young woman still standing by the front end of the car.
"No, Andy! Let me handle this, all right?"
Thud!
Pain exploded in the back of Sam's skull as something blunt and heavy collided with the back of his head. His arms went limp and his knees gave out. Sam let go of Andy and collapsed on the pavement.
Everything went black.
Things were not going well on the bridge.
Jayne could see that even from her perch across the gorge, several feet above the bridge, kneeling in the dirt. She was hunkered down behind a shrub, her rifle in her hands, trying to aim at Webber, who kept moving around.
Sam was lying face down on the pavement, barely moving. Tracy had dropped her tree branch on the ground and now she was standing on the railing of the bridge, looking down into the dam. Webber shrugged Steve off of him and pulled the tape off his mouth, approaching Andy, who stood still in the street with his arms up in surrender.
Jayne frowned at the scene, refocusing her aim on Webber's head. Her brother raised his gun and brought it down hard on the back of Webber's head. The other psychic crumpled, falling onto his knees.
It should have been a positive turn of events, but Jayne could tell even from this distance that was not the case. Webber was lolling on the asphalt, but Tracy was still standing on the railing, and there was plenty of unintelligible, panicked shouting ringing out from the bridge.
She would have shot Webber then and there if her brother hadn't stepped into the shot. Cursing at his back, she watched as he grabbed the other psychic by the neck and rolled him onto his back. Webber laughed. Steve looked ready to shoot the kid, but something the psychotic asshole said stopped him cold. Her brother's head tilted to the side, as though he was trying to figure Webber out.
Bam!
Something heavy collided with the back of her head then, and Jayne collapsed sideways into the dirt, her rifle tumbling from her hands. Pain exploded in her skull, and then everything went dark.
Lynn could not seem to get a good shot on Webber, no matter how hard she tried, and it was seriously starting to piss her off. The person she was most pissed at, however, was definitely her baby brother.
"Damn it," she hissed to herself, as her brother's back obstructed her view for the third time. The moron just kept getting in her line of sight. He seemed determined to take out Webber himself.
Frustrated, she was forced to sit still and watch helplessly as the entire scene played out below her on the bridge. Tracy beamed Sam in the head with a branch, and then ran over to the edge and hoisted herself onto the railing. Then Webber ditched her brother and the duct tape on his mouth, had a brief conversation with Andy as Sam lay unconscious on the asphalt, and was promptly knocked out on his face when her brother slammed his gun into the back of the psychic's head.
Her fingers twitched around the trigger on her rifle. Her brother was still in the way. Steve was standing over Webber, threatening him again. The kid just laughed at Steve, and it freaked Lynn out a little as she tried to decipher why.
Steve moved slightly, and she was able to see Webber's face better. It wasn't clear enough to get off a shot – not unless she wanted to risk hitting her brother, and Lynn definitely did not want to risk that. Still, she got a sight on him, and unfortunately he seemed to get a sight on her too.
"Damn it," she hissed again.
Webber's lips curved up into a sly, sickening smile. And then, somehow, despite the lack of words, Lynn felt her brain cloud over. It was exactly like sitting in the Impala a mere few hours earlier, with an angry Andy standing outside the car and demanding answers. There was no control over her mind or her body. Lynn hated it.
She sat still, unable to move, although she fought to refocus her aim on Webber's head. Her hands twitched as they tried to fight against the mental fog that kept them from doing what she wanted. Still, she could not move the gun, could not focus her aim, could not pull the trigger. She ground her teeth, a frustrated growl escaping her throat. There was panic rising in her. Her chest tightened painfully, and her breath came in short, harried hisses.
Steve had stepped away from Webber now, and the man was sitting up, leaning against his car. Andy was yelling at him, waving his hands around excitedly, and Webber was talking back. Still, Lynn couldn't move.
They only spoke for a few moments, and then her brother got antsy. Steve pointed his gun at Webber's head, and then it happened.
A command wove its way through her head, and Lynn tried desperately to fight back against it. Her hands tightened on the rifle, shaking as she tried not to move her fingers. She couldn't do this, wouldn't do this…
Her finger twitched violently, and she pulled back the trigger.
A horrified squeak escaped her lips as the gunshot echoed through the area. Everyone on the bridge, save Webber and Tracy, hit the deck. Nobody seemed hurt, and Lynn breathed a sigh of relief.
Then the command came again, and Lynn tried not to listen. She fought with herself, trying to move away from the edge of the dam. She told herself to drop the gun, but her grip on the weapon only tightened. She gasped, shaking her head, as her arms moved of their own accord, aiming at the bridge below.
She fought with herself, and that's what saved them, she was sure. Her aim was off, and her hands shook around the rifle.
Bang!
The second shot missed Steve by inches and gave Webber's car a flat tire. She cried out again as she pulled the trigger, and then nearly sobbed in relief when she missed her brother.
There was a long moment of silence. Not once did Webber try to make her pull the trigger. She sighed, watching the bridge, thankful when nobody moved again. Her brother had dropped his gun, and Webber seemed to have dismissed him as a threat. She was still breathing too hard, clutching the rifle too tightly as her entire body shook. Nobody move, she willed at the bridge. Nobody move.
Because if somebody down there moved, she was going to have to shoot them. No matter how hard she tried to resist Webber, so far she was unsuccessful. It was up to Dean or Jayne now, and Lynn squeezed her eyes tightly shut, hoping they'd take Webber out before he could make her do what she feared most.
She would never forgive herself if she killed her little brother.
Sam had only blacked out for a second, but it was enough time for Steve to pistol whip Webber right in the back of the head, sending the out-of-control psychic face first into the pavement. Sam squinted at Webber, who was laying on the ground beside him, his cheek smushed up against the asphalt. The pain in his skull made it almost impossible for him to move – he could barely lift his head. Sam tried to blink his blurry vision back into focus. Some feet away was the tree branch Tracy had used to beam him in the back of the head. Tracy herself was nowhere to be seen.
"How did you do that?" he heard Andy ask.
Webber rolled slowly and painfully onto his side, looking in the direction of the other psychic. "Practice, bro," he replied through a grimace. "If you'd practice, you would know. You don't always need to use your words." Webber slowly reached up, wincing slightly as he put his hand to his head. "If you have to, you can use this. Sometimes, the headache's worth it."
"You twisted son of a bitch…!"
"Back off, Andy! Tracy's going to do a little flying. Aren't you, Trace? I'm stronger than you. I can do it."
"Tracy!" he heard Andy call out. The sound of Andy's footsteps echoed around the bridge as he raced for the railing. "Tracy, wait! Stop! Come down from there!"
His voice had taken on that same breathy quality he'd used back in the alleyway – the tone that made Dean, Jayne and Lynn spill their guts. Sam couldn't tell what Tracy did in response – whether she came down from the rail, or stayed up there because Webber's mind control was stronger. As Sam lay there in the street, blinking at Webber's bloodied face, he saw the black-leather clad arm of Steve Juarez reach into his eyeshot and grab Webber by the collar of his coat.
He threw the kid onto his back. Webber coughed and wheezed, lolling on the pavement. "Steve," Sam choked out, trying to sit up. "Wait…"
Steve paid him no mind. He towered over Webber, pointing his gun straight at the other psychic's face. Webber started to laugh, choking as he did so and rolling slightly on the ground.
"What the hell's so funny?" Steve barked at him, cocking the pistol. "You're about to be a dead man, Giggles. I'd sober up."
"He's going to kill her," Webber wheezed. "Go ahead; shoot me. I'll make him kill her."
Steve frowned and cocked his head. Slowly, he lowered his weapon and glanced around the bridge. Webber choked out another laugh.
"I'm stronger than you, Andy!" he called out. "I can make Tracy fly. Can't I, Trace? Aren't you going to fly?"
Sam heard a strangled sob from the young woman in question. "Wait!" he heard Andy cry out. "Ok, I… I… fine. Just don't hurt her!"
Sam tried to get up again, but only managed to roll over on his back. The bright lights from the bridge shone directly into his eyes and Sam squinted in pain. Webber dragged himself into a half sitting position, slumping against the front tire of his car. "Don't be mad at me, ok?" he practically whined, looking up at Andy. "I know, it's… it's all wrong!"
"Can I shoot him yet?" Steve snapped.
Andy waved Steve off, and Webber ignored him completely. "I didn't mean for this to happen. It's just…" Webber trailed off and shook his head. "Tracy? She's trying to come between us."
Andy shook his head. "You're insane."
"She's garbage!" Webber exclaimed. "Man, they all are! We can push them! We can make them do whatever we want!"
"All right, that's it," Steve interrupted. "I think I've patronized enough crazy for one day."
He raised his gun towards Webber's head and pulled back the hammer. Before Steve could fire off a shot, however, another gunshot from a much larger gun echoed across the dam. Sam flinched, trying to lift his head and see what was going on. Both Andy and Steve hit the deck. Steve was down for mere moments, however, and soon rose back up, preparing to shoot at Webber again. A second shot rang out, and Steve narrowly missed an incoming bullet. The missile pierced one of Webber's tires instead, and Sam jumped at the resounding bang! followed by the hissing of air rapidly escaping the wheel. Steve dropped his gun in his hurry to dodge the bullet, and now the pistol went skittering across the bridge, out of his reach.
Webber hadn't ducked once. The gunfire didn't seem to surprise him one bit. In fact, he was grinning at the scene around him. He got to his feet slowly, leaning on the car, and then he looked off towards where Dean, Jayne and Lynn were lying in wait, rifles at the ready, and he winked.
"I know they're up there," Webber announced, looking at the three men scattered on the pavement around him. "I can make her take out any one of you. Anyone but me."
Sam wondered briefly who he was talking about, but he wasn't in any state of mind to ask. Steve glowered up at Webber from his seat on the asphalt, but Andy put up his hands in surrender, climbing back to his feet. Webber watched him carefully, but Sam still saw the hope in the other psychic's eyes.
"Are you… are you really this stupid?" Andy half laughed at his brother, although the chuckle was without any real humor. "You… you learn you have a twin? You call them up. You go out for a drink. You don't start killing people!"
"I wanted to tell you for so long, bro," Webber replied. "But he didn't let me. He said I had to wait until the time was right…"
"Who?" Andy interrupted.
Webber frowned slightly, as though he'd thought the answer was obvious. "The man with the yellow eyes."
It was enough to shock Sam into a half-sitting position. Horrified, he turned his head as far as he could towards Webber. Steve caught his eye, and the two of them shared a look of understanding. Steve swallowed, hard, and Sam stared at him, hoping Steve had some sort of plan. All Steve did was look hopefully over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the shrubbery around the edges of the dam, clearly searching for the other three hunters, waiting for one of them to fire off a rescuing shot.
None came. Sam returned his attention to Andy and Webber. "What are you talking about?" Andy demanded incredulously.
"He came to me," Webber explained, almost reverently. Sam hung on his every word. One glance at Steve proved that he was listening just as intently. "In my dreams. He said I was special. He told me he's got big plans for me."
Webber leaned towards Andy, grabbing him desperately but the front of his jacket. "Wait until you see what he's got in store – for both of us! He's the one who told me I had a brother! A twin."
Andy wasn't impressed. "Why'd you kill our mother?" he wanted to know. "Dr. Jennings?"
"Because they split us up!" Webber exploded. "They ruined our lives, Andy! We could have been together this whole time. Instead of alone. I… I couldn't let them do that; I couldn't let them get away with that!"
Andy stared at his twin, shaking his head. Slowly, Sam pulled himself all the way up, hoping to drag himself towards one of their abandoned guns. Steve was already on his feet and making a move towards Webber.
Webber, however, had turned towards the place where Dean, Jayne and Lynn were hiding, and he was smirking into the trees.
"I see you," he announced, and Sam's gut sank horribly. "Bye bye."
Bang!
The shot rang out in the stillness of the night air, and Sam flinched, expecting the worst. But the shot didn't come from the shrubs along the dam. Sam glanced at Webber, just in time to see the now glassy-eyed psychic stumble forward, and then fall face first onto the ground. Dark red blood blossomed on the back of his navy jacket.
Andy stood behind him, pointing Steve's gun where Webber had been standing. His hands shook terribly, and his eyes were wide in horror –whether it was at what Webber had done, or what he had done to Webber was anyone's guess.
Tracy let out a sob from the railing, half terrified and half relieved. Sam looked at her, and then at Andy, and then he met Steve's gaze over Webber's corpse. Steve was standing still in the street, looking confused and slightly lost. Sam grabbed hold of Webber's car and hauled himself onto his feet.
Steve reached out and took his gun gently from Andy's shaking hands. Andy looked up at him, horrified, and then he turned tail and ran for Tracy. Sam watched him help the still sobbing young woman down from the rail.
He stared silently at Steve, who shrugged and slid his pistol into his waistband. Nobody spoke.
There was nothing to say.
Jayne had only been out a moment; she was certain of it.
Slowly, her vision came back into focus. The black cleared from the edges of her eyesight, and she was able to make out the man towering over her. His dark hulking figure was framed by the starry night sky, and she could just barely discern his facial features.
Her head hurt too much to move, so Jayne lay still on her back, in the dirt, staring wide-eyed at the barrel of Dean's rifle. "Dean?" she asked slowly, hesitantly.
Dean was standing over her, his hands shaking, pointing his rifle at her head. She could see panic in his eyes, but there was nothing else in his face. Momentarily, she was confused. Her head was pounding in pain, and she struggled to remember how she'd ended up in this situation. It took longer than it should have, but Jayne managed to put the pieces together right.
Webber knew the three of them were up there, hiding in the brush and waiting to take him out. So he'd used his mojo on Dean, and now he was trying to make Dean shoot her.
Dean was trying not to – that she could determine by the shake in his hands – but he was clearly losing the battle. Webber had him so out of control that Dean couldn't even speak to her.
Slowly, painfully, Jayne raised herself a few inches on her elbows, lifting her head off the ground. She squinted up at Dean, cringing as she tried to stay upright.
"Dean," she said slowly, her voice raspy. His hands shook harder. She scooted backwards in the dirt, wincing when the pain in her head intensified. Little black spots exploded in her vision. She swallowed down a sudden wave of panic.
There was no way to see what was happening on the bridge. She heard two shots ring out in the night air, sounding like they came from Lynn's corner of the undergrowth. Jayne hoped against hope that her sister had taken out Webber, and that everything was over.
No such luck. Dean glanced at the bridge briefly, but Jayne didn't dare look away from him. He turned his huge panicking eyes back on her. He didn't put down the gun, although his hands continued to shake. Jayne stared steadily into his eyes, willing him to fight what Webber was telling him to do.
"Dean, I…" She trailed off, choking on her words. She didn't know what to say.
He just stared at her with wide, horrified eyes. His arm spasmed, and then his finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger.
Bang!
The gunshot echoed throughout the night and Jayne flinched violently. She squeezed her eyes shut and toppled backwards onto the ground. For one terrible moment, she truly believed he'd shot her.
But there was no sudden pain, no spurting blood. Jayne lay still a moment, not believing her luck, and then slowly opened her eyes.
Dean stared down at her, his eyes still wide and horrified. Slowly, he looked down at his rifle. Then with a sudden, repulsed jerk of his hands, he tossed the gun into the trees.
She lay still in the dirt, breathing heavily, and stared at him. He stared back at her, still wide-eyed with panic, not moving a muscle. For several long, silent seconds, neither of them moved. They just stared at each other.
Lynn cried out somewhere to their right. Jayne broke eye contact with Dean, lifting herself slightly off the ground to see what was wrong with her sister. "Lynn!" she called out throatily, wincing with pain as she tried to see through the darkness.
"Jaynie!" she heard her sister cry back. There was a lot of thrashing about in the undergrowth, and then Lynn appeared, bursting out of the bushes with her rifle hanging loosely from her hand. Her face was red and streaked with tears. Jayne tried to get up and failed.
"What happened?" she demanded.
Lynn rushed to her side, dropping the rifle and threw her arms around her sister's neck. "Are you ok?" she practically shrieked in Jayne's ear.
Jayne flinched, trying to struggle free. "I'm fine," she replied. "What happened?" she demanded again.
Lynn pulled back ever so slightly, and pulled Jayne up into a sitting position. "I… I couldn't control myself! He… he made me… Jaynie, I almost shot Steve!"
Jayne swallowed, hard. She stared at Lynn, and then she forced out a smile for her. "Well, you didn't, right?"
Lynn shook her head.
"No harm done," Jayne told her.
Her sister looked outraged at that assessment of the situation. "But… but I could have…!"
"But it wasn't you, it was Webber," Jayne told her. "And you didn't. So it's ok, really."
Lynn sniffed, and frowned at her. Then she frowned at Dean, and then she frowned at Jayne again. "What happened here?" she asked.
"I almost shot your sister," Dean replied in a low voice. Jayne looked at him sharply, and he simply stared back. She didn't know what to make of him at the moment.
Lynn gasped, predictably. "But he didn't," Jayne was quick to say. "So, again… no harm done."
"Wouldn't say that," Dean pointed out, shrugging. "Knocked you in the head pretty hard, didn't I?"
Why was he doing this? Jayne swallowed down a nasty retort, and gave him as even a look as she could muster. "I'm fine."
"You can't get up, can you?" he replied.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Just to prove him wrong, she gently removed Lynn from her shoulder and slowly got up on her feet. The movement went to her aching head and she swayed, the world blurring in front of her. She ignored the sensation, forcing herself upright. The dizziness passed, and she stood straight, lifting her eyebrows smugly at him.
Dean looked away, and she resisted the urge to throttle him. What the hell was his problem, anyway? She was the one who almost got shot.
Lynn's eyes were on the bridge now. "We should get down there," she announced.
Jayne nodded slowly in agreement. Dean shrugged and then turned his back on both of them, marching off in the direction of the bridge. Once he'd put some distance between them, Jayne sagged slightly and Lynn took her arm.
"You ok?" she asked.
Jayne shrugged. "Fine."
Lynn obviously didn't believe her, but she didn't press the subject. Instead, she gripped Jayne's arm and helped her down the hill, towards the road, and then up the road towards the bridge. Dean led the way, but he never glanced back at them – not once.
Jayne glared at his back. What the hell was wrong with him now?
When they reached the bridge, Andy was standing by Webber's car, trying very hard not to look at his twin brother's body. He studied his hands instead, turning them from side to side as he did so. Jayne glanced at Steve, finding her brother hovering nearby, his eyes continually straying towards the other psychic, betraying his concern for the kid. Still, Steve said nothing. He made no move towards Andy.
Tracy was huddled in Andy's coat, sitting on the trunk of the car, refusing to talk or even look at anybody. Sam had his cell phone pressed to his ear, apparently phoning in Webber's body.
The first thing Lynn did was release Jayne's arm and run for their little brother. Jayne watched with a raised eyebrow as her sister threw her arms around her brother's neck, nearly knocking the kid off his feet. "I'm so sorry!" she practically sobbed into Steve's shoulder. "Oh my god, I could have… are you ok?"
Steve pulled away ever so slightly so Lynn could see the smirk on his face. "Oh, that was you, was it?" he retorted. "You were the one shooting at me?"
Lynn nodded, her lip caught between her teeth. "I didn't… I couldn't, I tried not to, but he…"
Steve shook his head and pulled away completely, taking Lynn by the shoulders and looking her in the eye. "Don't sweat it, sis. No harm, no foul. Besides, it's not like it's your fault anyway."
Lynn still looked distinctly troubled, but she let the subject drop. Jayne swayed slightly on her feet, and made a move towards the bridge railing for support. She leaned up against it and folded her arms over her chest, silently surveying the rest of the group.
Dean was still not looking at her. In fact, it seemed like he was going to great lengths to avoid looking at her. She frowned at the back of his head as he fussed with his rifle. It was suddenly very tempting to kick his ass.
Lynn was stuck like glue to Steve's side. Steve didn't seem to mind her hovering, but he was still watching Andy intently. Andy stood still, ignoring everyone, as did Tracy.
Sam hung up his cell phone. "Cops will be here in twenty," he informed them. "Andy?"
Andy looked up from his hands, startled. "Uh… yeah," he mumbled. "Right."
"Everyone ok?" Sam asked, his eyes roving over the rest of the group. He was swaying on his feet too, Jayne recognized, obviously still feeling the effects of the blow to his head.
"Peachy," Dean spat.
Sam frowned at him, and then looked at her for an explanation. Jayne wanted to snap at him too, hating that all of a sudden it was up to her to explain Dean's weird moods. What was she, a mind reader? Did she and Dean share a brain?
She simply shrugged at Sam and looked away. Sam frowned at Lynn next, who finally moved away from Steve. They shared whispers by the car, out of earshot from everyone but Tracy, who was so clearly not listening.
Police sirens echoed in the distance. Jayne glanced at the horizon line, seeing the first few rays of sunlight poke through the distant trees. Heaving a sigh, she let herself sink down onto the cement, sitting cross-legged and cross-armed as she waited for the cops to arrive.
Something had changed in the course of the night, and now nothing was going to be the same, ever again, for any of them.
The sun had risen, and it was already a bright, warm morning. Dean leaned against the railing on the bridge, frowning over at Andy. He was standing in front of three state troopers, giving them his statement.
"He shot himself," Andy told them. "And you all saw it happen."
The troopers frowned at him, and then slowly nodded. "Yeah," one of them agreed. "We did."
"Look at him," Sam murmured. Dean glanced down at his brother, who was sitting on the curb at Dean's feet. Sam's eyes were fixed on Andy, and he was slowly shaking his head. "He's getting better at it."
Dean made no comment and surveyed the scene on the bridge instead. There were cops swarming all over the street, and the coroner was loading a black body bag into the county hearse. Paramedics were parked nearby, and they were currently taking care of a very shaken Tracy. She was wrapped in a blanket and sitting in the back of the ambulance, barely listening to the EMTs who were trying to talk to her. The paramedics had already looked at both Sam and Jayne's head wounds and given them clean bills of health.
That didn't make Dean's guilt go away.
Jayne was leaning on the back of her truck, and Lynn was standing nearby, glancing anxiously around them. Steve was talking to them both, but Dean couldn't make out what the brat was saying. Andy turned away from the troopers and headed towards Dean and his brother, chancing a small smile at Tracy as he passed by the ambulance.
Tracy looked away immediately, her face twisted in confusion and uneasiness. Andy ducked his head and walked over to Dean and Sam.
"She won't even look at me," he said to them.
Dean looked at the ground. "Yeah," Sam murmured softly. "She's pretty shaken up."
Andy shook his head. "No, it's… this is different. It's, uh… I never used my mind thing on her before… before last night. She's scared of me now."
There was a brief silence. Dean shifted uncomfortably on the railing and glanced at his brother. Sam was giving the other psychic sympathetic eyes, but at Dean's look, he got down to business. "Look, I hate to do this to you," Sam said. "But we've got to get out of here."
Andy scoffed, a short, disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips. Sam handed him a slip of paper. "Here, I wrote down my cell. You don't have to be alone in this, all right? If anything comes up, call me up."
Dean glanced at the truck and gave the other three hunters a nod. Then he made his way towards the Impala. Sam followed. Andy shook his head, turning the phone number over in his hands incredulously. "What am I supposed to do now?" he demanded at their backs.
Both hunters turned to look at him. "You be good, Andy," Dean replied. "Or we'll be back."
Andy gawked at him. Before he could call Dean on quoting Terminator, Dean turned away and finished his march to the car. Sam was on his heels. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Lynn and Jayne following behind them. Andy brushed past them, still looking overwhelmed, and Dean stopped so the two women could catch up. Steve was nowhere in sight.
"Hey," Lynn called, jogging the rest of the way. Jayne lagged behind her. "You guys heading out?"
"Yeah," Dean retorted. "Aren't you?"
He couldn't help being irritable. Lynn let it slide. "We were talking to Steve," she explained quickly, her nerves obvious by the rambling tone of her voice. "He, uh… he's concerned. About Andy, that is."
"Why?" Dean snapped. "He was a serious dick to him, right up till the end there. What, he caught religion or something?"
Jayne rolled her eyes and rested her hip on the Impala's back bumper. Lynn took a deep, steadying breath, clearly doing her best not to snap back at him. Her determination to be patient further pissed Dean off. "I think he feels bad," she said. "And Andy's seriously freaked. Don't tell me you don't see that."
"Of course he's freaked. Wouldn't you be?"
"Dean," Sam reprimanded him softly.
"Steve wants to stay here," Lynn announced, tossing her wavy black hair over her shoulder. "And I told him I'd stick around with him. You know, kind of play mediator? You're right; Steve was a dick to Andy. I doubt he's going to willingly accept his help."
"Help with what?" Sam asked curiously, his brow crinkled.
Lynn shrugged. "We left the kid in kind of a mess, don't you think?"
There was a short silence. Sam surveyed the cop cars and ambulance on the bridge, and nodded. "Yeah," he murmured. "I guess we did."
Dean shook his head, annoyed. He could see Andy wandering slowly down the bridge, and now he could see Steve, lounging against the rail clear on the other end. He glanced at Jayne. "You ok with this?" he demanded.
Jayne shrugged. "They can do what they want."
"Jayne's not staying," Lynn spoke up. "Just me and Steve."
Dean would have said something else, but his phone rang. Rolling his eyes, his took the phone out of his coat and answered it. "Hello?"
"Dean."
The woman's voice on the other end was too patient. He recognized her immediately. "Ellen," he greeted her. "What's going on?"
"If you've wrapped up whatever wild goose chase you all have been on the past two days, I was wondering if you could come back up to the roadhouse. I've got a bit of an emergency."
Dean frowned at that. "Uh… yeah. We'll be right there."
She hung up before he could ask what the problem was.
Everyone was staring at him when he hung up the phone. "Ellen," he explained. "Uh… she wants us to come to the roadhouse."
Lynn nodded slowly. "Right. You're going?"
Dean bristled at that. "Yeah."
She turned to Jayne. "Keys? Steve won't want to go back there, I'm guessing."
Jayne rolled her eyes and handed over the truck keys. "I'll meet you guys in a couple days," Lynn announced. "Keep me informed, or whatever."
"Later," Jayne grunted.
Sam gave Lynn a reassuring smile. "See you soon."
"Whatever," Dean grumbled.
Lynn rolled her eyes and then waved at them before turning around and jogging towards Steve and Andy. Dean frowned after her, and then shrugged, turning back to the car. Sam shrugged at him, and then climbed into the passenger seat.
"You all right?" Dean grunted at Jayne.
Jayne had been staring after her sister and now she looked up at him in surprise. "Yeah," she replied. "Fine."
"Good," he snapped. "Get in the car."
She glared at him. Dean ignored her and climbed in behind the wheel. Seconds later, Jayne had arranged herself in the backseat and slammed his car door. Dean flinched at the noise, but made no comment.
Silently, Dean turned over the engine and eased on the gas. The Impala rolled away from the bridge, headed for the highway.
Lynn walked briskly across the bridge, the warm, late summer breeze blowing back her hair. She could see Steve, down at the other end of the bridge, lounging on the back of his bright orange Roadrunner, which he had half-heartedly attempted to conceal in the trees. Andy was standing nearby, with his arms folded over his chest.
She strolled past cops and EMTs and emergency vehicles. She didn't bother finding out how Tracy was doing, because the young woman clearly wanted nothing to do with any of them after the scene on the bridge. It could have been much worse, although Tracy probably didn't see it that way. Lynn could have shot one of them while she was under Webber's influence. Dean could have shot Jayne. Her brother could have lost control and set someone on fire.
But Steve hadn't lost control, and despite everything else that had happened on the bridge the night before, Lynn was proud of him.
When she reached the Bird, Steve and Andy were standing around awkwardly and not talking. She rolled her eyes and looked at Steve. "So?" she asked him. "What's the deal?"
Steve shrugged. "We said we'd stick around."
It was just so Steve to act like it had been mostly her idea. The reality was that it hadn't been Lynn's idea at all – this particular act of sympathy had been all Steve. That was something else she was proud of him for, even if he planned on spending all their time with Andy acting like helping the kid out was physically painful for him.
Andy frowned at Lynn in confusion. "Really?" he asked her.
Lynn tossed her hair and looked Andy in the eye. "Well, don't you want some help?" she asked him. "Don't you want some support? You just killed your brother back there, you've decimated your relationship with your ex-girlfriend, and you have a lot to deal with regarding the cops. Steve and I are willing to stick around and help you, as long as you think you need it."
Andy frowned harder. "Why?" he demanded.
Lynn frowned back. "Why not?"
Andy didn't have an answer for that. He just shrugged and glared at his sneakers. Steve rolled his eyes and got off the back bumper of his car. He ducked back into the trees a little farther, away from the eyes of the cops. "Look," he snapped at Andy. "Want to see what kind of demon mojo I got going on?"
The question peaked Andy's interest, but did nothing to settle his nerves. "Demon mojo?" he repeated incredulously, even as he stepped into the trees behind Steve, obviously interested in seeing the show.
"Yeah, demon mojo," Steve replied. "What, you think this stuff comes naturally?"
"Well…" Andy stuttered. "I…"
Steve rolled his eyes. "That's what I thought."
Lynn glanced over her shoulder at the bridge, eyeing the horde of police officers. Once she was convinced nobody was looking at them, she too stepped into the trees, where she leaned her hip against the front end of her brother's car.
Steve had cleared a space in the dirt, and now in the center of it he gathered dry twigs and dead leaves. Once the pile was large enough, and there was enough dirt between the kindling and other nearby flammable objects, Steve took a step back, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his knuckles.
"Dude," Andy said, eyeing him suspiciously. "What the hell are you doing?"
Lynn sniggered. Steve ignored them both and glared at the pile of sticks.
Boom!
Crackling flames exploded in the middle of the kindling. Andy jumped about five feet in the air, and stumbled backwards into Steve's car.
"Hey!" Steve barked at him. "Watch the paint!"
Andy gawked wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the small campfire in the trees. "You just… but that's…"
"Impossible?" Lynn supplied dryly.
Andy stared at her, and then he stared at Steve. Then he returned his gaping to the fire. "Dude," he breathed. "You just set that on fire with your mind."
"Yeah," Steve replied, leaning against one of the trees. "I did."
Andy laughed. "That is so cool!"
Steve blinked at the other psychic in surprise. Lynn couldn't help smiling at Andy's astonished face. The smile grew wider as Andy laughed again and grinned at Steve.
Her brother chuckled begrudgingly, and shrugged. "Cool's not usually the word I use."
Andy just shook his head, still laughing and shaking his head in awe. "Wicked."
Steve actually smiled. Lynn laughed out loud. "Yeah, wicked," Steve returned smartly. "That might be more appropriate."
Andy's smirk vanished. He looked from Steve to Lynn and back again. "So," he said seriously. "Demon mojo?"
Lynn looked at Steve, who nodded in response to her unasked question. "Not here," she told Andy. "Let's go somewhere a bit more private, and then we'll tell you what we know."
Andy nodded slowly. Steve started kicking dirt at the small fire, and Lynn jogged towards her sister's truck, still parked up on the bridge. Andy stayed behind with Steve.
It wasn't by any means a perfect situation, but having Andy in the know seemed better than leaving him out of it. Besides, he had to deal with the same kind of shit that Steve and Sam did, and it was her opinion he had every right to know about the yellow-eyed demon.
She just hoped the other three agreed, or there was going to be some serious yelling.
Guthrie was barely a mile behind them, but Sam had already tired of the silence in the car. Jayne was lounging in the rear seat, her face turned to the window, either watching the highway fly by them or sleeping off her head injury. Dean was equally quiet, his eyes focused on the pavement in front of them and his jaw clenched tight. Sam looked at Jayne in the back, and then at his brother beside him, before shaking his head in exasperation and flopping back against the passenger seat.
He stared out the window, watching the trees and cinderblock barriers fly past them as Dean sped down the highway, easily passing and occasionally cutting off the other cars. The radio was on and blasting some sort of hair metal – Dean's go-to road tunes.
Sam watched the green road signs whizz by as they put more and more distance between them and Guthrie. But no amount of distance could take Guthrie off his mind. Andy was still back there, and now so were Lynn and Steve. Sam had a tiny, nagging feeling in his stomach, turning his insides, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he didn't need to be in Guthrie with them, the nagging feeling would not go away.
It was more than just guilt over leaving Andy behind – guilt made only worse by the fact that someone else had seen the need to stay with the other psychic. It was a need that normally Sam would have recognized, and it threw him that he had somehow overlooked it. But more than that, Sam could not keep from replaying the scene on the bridge over and over again in his mind. Webber had known about the demon – Webber had seen and spoken to the demon.
Andy had killed Webber.
He wasn't able to stop the short, scoffing laugh. Unfortunately, everyone in the car heard it. Jayne looked up from the window, proving she was still awake. Dean shot him a sideways glare. "What?" he demanded.
Sam shrugged and glared straight through the windshield. "Looks like I was right, is all."
Dean looked even grumpier. "Right about what?"
"Andy."
Both Dean and Jayne frowned at him. Sam shrugged again. "He's a killer after all."
Jayne snorted in the backseat, and Dean gave him an incredulous look. "No, he's a hero," Dean retorted. "Saved his girlfriend's life, saved…"
Dean choked on the words and cut himself off mid-sentence. Sam frowned at him, and Dean glared at the road some more, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.
"My life," Jayne supplied dryly. "He saved my life. My brother's life. Hell, probably your life too, Sam."
Dean's jaw tightened, but he nodded and tried to sound normal. "Right," he agreed.
Sam scoffed again. "Bottom line? Last night, he wasted somebody."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but he's not a foaming at the mouth psycho. Ok? He was just… he was pushed into that."
"Webber was pushed too, in his own way," Sam pointed out. "Max Miller was pushed; Landon Creevey was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death! And Jayne, you can't honestly tell me Steve wasn't pushed a few times himself. The possessed man in Iowa? West Virginia, when we caught up with Landon?"
"Do not compare that with Webber," Jayne snapped, sitting up straight. Sam looked over his shoulder and she glared at him. "Or Max, or Landon. It's completely different, and you know it."
"Is it?" Sam returned.
"What's your point, Sam?" Dean asked irritably.
"My point is right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder! Everyone."
Jayne pursed her lips together and shook her head, glaring out the window again. Dean frowned at Sam out the corner of his eye. Sam didn't care how pissed off he was making them – they had to discuss this. They had to face it.
He shook his head. "Maybe that's what the demon is doing," he said. "Pushing us. Finding ways to break us."
"Look, we don't know what the demon wants," Dean replied. "Ok? Quit worrying about it."
He smacked Sam in the shoulder and then returned his focus to the road. Jayne seemed content to ignore the conversation as well, but Sam wasn't having any of it. He stared at the side of Dean's face for a moment. Then he sat up a little straighter, ready to confront his brother. "You know, I heard you before, Dean," Sam reminded him. "When Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared of this as I am. All of you are."
The last sentence was directed at Jayne. She offered him a short glare out the corner of her eye and then went back to ignoring his existence.
Dean scoffed. "That was mind control!" he protested. "That's like being roofied! It doesn't count!"
"What?"
"No! I'm calling do-over."
Sam screwed up his face incredulously. "What are you, seven?"
"Doesn't matter. Look, we just got to keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch and kill it."
Sam gawked at his brother. Dean gave him a short, serious look out the corner of his eye, and once again returned to the road. There was a brief moment of silence, and then Sam shook his head and threw up his hands. "Fine," he retorted. "Fine. But for the record? You guys can't keep ignoring this. You two, and Lynn, and even Steve – which boggles my mind, honestly, because he's right in the thick of this with me, and I cannot understand why he wouldn't want to know exactly what's going on…"
"Maybe he does," Jayne cut him off viciously. "Maybe he does, but he understands that this constant arguing and rehashing the same old crap isn't finding us any answers. Seriously, shut up about it."
Sam glared at her over his shoulder. "Maybe talking about it doesn't fix anything, but neither does ignoring the problem!"
"We get it, ok?" Jayne bit back. "The demon's out there and it wants you killing with the power of your mind or whatever. Apocalypse is nigh. Blah, blah, blah. Enough!"
Sam blinked at the comment, stung and irritated. "And none of that seems important to you?"
Jayne opened her mouth to retort, but Dean interrupted her. "Stop it!" he ordered. "Enough, both of you!
Sam turned his glare on his brother instead, but before he could attempt a reply, Dean had turned the volume way up on the radio, making further conversation impossible.
It was tempting to turn off the radio and force Dean to have it out with him, right then and right there. Sam didn't do that, though. He was tired too. Tired of his fears and concerns being ignored and dismissed and swept under the rug. He was getting nowhere. Hell, none of them were.
He flopped back against his seat again and returned to glaring out the passenger window. The trees and buildings and highway barriers were still burring on past him as they made the journey from Guthrie back to Nebraska. Sam clammed up and stared out the window for the rest of the ride.
There was no point in talking now.
The sun was high, and the parking lot out front of the Harvelle Roadhouse was dry and dusty. Little clouds of dirt flew up around the Impala's tires as the old black car wheeled across the empty gravel lot, before jerking to a stop right outside the front door.
Sam climbed out and slammed the door behind him. It was enough to make Dean put his fist through a wall, but he didn't. The last thing he was going to do was punch a hole through his baby. He shut the engine down instead, and watched silently as Sam stalked inside the tavern.
Dean glanced up in the rearview mirror. Jayne was still sitting behind him, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. He swallowed, hard. "You ok?" he asked gruffly.
She looked at him, surprised. "You keep asking me that," she pointed out, just as gruff.
Dean shrugged. "Take that as a yes."
He got out of the car and slammed the door just as hard as Sam. Jayne followed suit, and the two of them walked silently into the bar.
Sam was already sitting at the bar, talking to Ellen, when the two of them entered the room. Ellen looked up and smiled big for them, although Sam pretended not to hear the old door creak open.
"Hey, Ellen," Dean greeted her. "What's the emergency?"
Ellen shrugged, and plopped two beers on the counter. "We'll get to that. Where's the other two?"
"They stayed in Guthrie," Jayne practically grunted at her. Dean glanced at Jayne briefly before taking a seat at the bar and accepting his beer. Jayne sat down on the other side of Sam, who slid her glass down to her.
He frowned at her, but she didn't seem to notice. Ellen studied all three of them with that skeptical, omnipotent mother glare of hers. Dean shifted uneasily under her hard eyes, and looked away. Jo bounced into the room then, through the swinging door to the kitchen. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, swinging a rag in her hand.
"Jo," Ellen ordered. "Go pull up another case of beer."
"Mom," Jo protested.
"Now," Ellen snapped. Then she softened it with a barely believable, "Please."
Jo rolled her eyes, but she headed off to do her mother's bidding. The petulant slump to her shoulders as she shuffled towards the basement reminded Dean of an irritated teenager. He shook his head and returned his attention to his beer.
Ellen sauntered up to the counter and gave the three of them another hard look. "So," she said, leaning forward with her hands on the bar. "You want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?"
"Nope. Not really," Dean retorted.
Both Jayne and Sam looked at him in surprise, their heads turning almost simultaneously. It was borderline creepy. But scarier than that was Ellen, who tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder and glowered at him, the crow's feet crinkling around her dark brown eyes. He nearly quailed under the look she gave him.
"No offense," he defended himself, trying to shrug off the look. "It's just… kind of a family thing."
He winked at her, and immediately wished he hadn't. Ellen pulled back from the counter and gave all three of them scorching, furious eyes. "Not anymore," she informed them, grabbing a stack of papers from under the bar and plopping them down on the counter. Dean groaned inwardly. "I got this stuff from Ash."
Dean looked up at her balefully and said nothing. Sam ducked his head, also silent. Jayne stared at the papers for a moment, and then shook her head, sucking in her lower lip. She turned to glare at her beer, not offering a word for Ellen.
Ellen stared at them expectantly, and when nobody spoke, broke the silence with an accusing, "Andrew Gallagher's house caught fire on his sixth-month birthday, just like your houses. You think it was the demon all three times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family."
Sam nodded despite making a pained face at the question. "We think so, yes."
"Sam," Dean warned him.
"Why?" Ellen demanded, ignoring Dean's comment.
"None of your business," Dean snapped.
Ellen turned on him, hackles up and eyes blazing. "You mind your tongue with me, boy," she barked. "This isn't just your war; it's war. Something big and bad is coming, and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. Now at best, all we got is us. Together. No secrets or half-truths here."
If she only knew just how many secrets and half-truths Dean was keeping – not just from Ellen and Jo, but even from the people closest to him. He had a hard time not laughing in her face. Instead, he settled for a hard, mean glare – which did absolutely nothing to intimidate the woman. Finally, he gave up and looked away.
Sam looked at him, waiting for his blessing. Dean refused to give it. He said nothing. Sam took his silence as permission, and turned to Ellen. "There are people out there," he began. "Like Andrew Gallagher – like me. And, um… we all have some kind of ability."
Jayne breathed out hard through her nose – almost a snort. Ellen spared a dark look for her, and then turned her attention back to Sam. "Ability?" she pressed.
"Yeah," Sam shook his head, the tone of his voice bordering on amusement. "Psychic ability."
Ellen stared at Sam. Dean shook his head and looked away. This was such a bad idea… a freaking terrible idea.
"Me, I, uh… I have visions. Premonitions. I don't know… it's different for everybody. Jayne's brother can start fires."
Ellen turned wide, surprised eyes on Jayne, who tossed her hair and glared at her. "Thanks, Sam," she whispered tightly.
Sam ignored Jayne. "The demon said he had plans for people like us."
Ellen frowned, looked away briefly, and then got right back down to business. "What kind of plans?" she demanded.
Sam tried to smile at her. "We don't really know for sure."
"These people out there," Ellen barreled on, barely letting Sam finish his sentence. "These psychics. Are they dangerous?"
"No."
Both Jayne and Dean spoke as one, their voices ringing out too loud in the bar. Ellen and Sam looked at the two of them in surprise. Dean tightened one hand around his beer, trying to stay cool. He looked over at Jayne and caught her eye. She stared evenly back, her mouth set in a grim little line.
"Not all of them," he clarified, looking back at Ellen.
"But some of them are!" Sam jumped in, all too ready to turn Ellen against the psychics. "Some are very dangerous."
Ellen's eyes were wide. "Well, how many are we looking at?"
"We've been able to track them so far," Dean told her. "All their houses had fires on the night of the kid's six-month birthday."
"That's not true," Sam argued.
Dean stiffened at that, and turned a murderous glare on his brother. "What?"
"Landon," Jayne grunted. Dean glared at her too. "The kid in West Virginia. The one with the feelings. No fire."
"Webber too," Sam added. "Or… Anson Weams, or… whatever his name is.I looked at his files and there was no house fire. There was nothing out of the ordinary."
A cold feeling of dread settled over Dean. The beer turned unpleasantly in his stomach. Ellen remained steady, watching the three hunters seated at her bar. "Which breaks pattern," she pointed out. "So if there's any others like him, there'd be nothing in the system. No way to track them all down."
Jo had appeared behind her mother now, but Dean barely spared her a second glance. She'd clearly heard a lot more of the conversation than Ellen had intended her to – he could tell by the tense way she'd folded her arms over her chest, and the worry present in her big eyes. Sam looked down at the counter, and Jayne threw back a heavy gulp of her beer.
"So, who knows how many are really out there," Dean murmured, mostly to himself. The reality of the situation suddenly sank in, making it very clear what they were up against; that is, the reality that they had no idea what they were up against.
There was silence for only a moment. "Jo, honey," Ellen spoke up, apparently aware of Jo's presence the entire time.
"Yeah?" Jo asked.
"Better break out the whiskey instead."
Lynn tapped her foot against the bed liner of her sister's truck, hunching over and wrapping her arms around her torso. She was sitting on the rim of the bed, near the cab, staring at the back of Andy's head. Andy had lowered the trap on the bed and was sitting on it, his feet dangling in the air. Steve's Superbird was parked behind the truck, and Steve was leaning against the front end, his arms folded over his chest. He was watching Andy too, but Andy wasn't looking at either one of them. Andy was hunched over, gripping the edges of the bed.
"So, there's a demon," Andy said. "With, like… yellow eyes."
"Yeah," Lynn replied, crossing and uncrossing her ankles. "Pretty much sums it up."
"And this demon… he was the one talking to Webber?"
Steve nodded once. "We think so."
"He killed my mother."
Lynn caught Steve's eye over Andy's head. The three cars – Janis, the Roadrunner, and Andy's ridiculous van – were all parked in clearing a few miles out of town. The clearing was hidden by trees, and the cars were surrounded by tall weeds and grasses. No one was around for miles, and it had seemed like a good place to have this conversation.
Not that it mattered, really, because Andy was still freaking out. Steve stared steadily back at Lynn, and she shrugged at him, blowing hair out her eyes. "Yeah, Andy," she murmured. "Your mother, our mother… Sam and Dean's mother. Probably a lot of other people's mothers too."
"You guys are hunting it," Andy mumbled into his hands, mussing up his hair. "And it might have, like… plans for me, or something."
Steve shrugged. "Or something. We don't really know. But whatever this thing is after? It's bad. And you deserve to be in the know. Keep you on your toes."
There was a long silence. "Andy?" Lynn asked. "You ok?"
"Uh…" Andy replied. "I… I think I need Goliath."
Steve frowned. "What the fuck's Goliath?"
Andy didn't answer him. He'd already sprung off the back end of the truck and made a beeline for his van. Lynn watched, amused, as he pulled open the back doors on the dark blue monstrosity and dove inside.
"I'm guessing it's his giant bong," she said.
Steve rolled his eyes and pushed himself off his car. "Whatever."
Lynn watched her brother warily as he walked over to the truck and vaulted into the back. He flopped down in the bed, his back against the rim and his legs sprawled across the liner. "You all right?" she asked him. "You know, with, like… everything?"
Steve laughed. "Sure. Just peachy."
He knocked his head back against the truck. Lynn crinkled her nose at him and offered him a half-hearted smile. "It was good of you," she told him. "Sticking around for Andy like this."
Steve shrugged again. "Yep. I'm the best."
"Shut up," Lynn retorted. "I just meant… I think it's better this way. Not all the psychics we meet are going to be like Webber. Some of them have to be like you and Sam and Andy… and we should try to stick together, you know? Fight the good fight, turn the demon's plans against him."
"You really think that's going to work?" Steve returned bitterly. "Shit, Lynn, we don't even know how many there are, and how to find them!"
She fell silent at that, abashed. Steve heaved a harassed sigh. "Look, sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to… It's just that I'm not like Andy and Sam. Not really. I've lost control, Lynn. I killed two people."
"They were asking for it," Lynn insisted, but the words felt hollow. After all, they were only an echo of Jayne's words, or Dean's words. Shallow excuses used to hide the reality of their situation; Steve and Sam could be dangerous, intentionally or not.
Steve shook his head. "I guess so," he allowed. "But… Lynn, there's not going to be some kind of magical psychic alliance. We're not going to be the X-men. Even if we're lucky enough to find more psychics out there… well, a lot more of them might end up like Webber than you think."
The words made her nauseous and most likely because they were true. She stared sadly at her little brother, who was consciously ignoring her gaze. Nothing made her feel good about this situation, and hearing her brother admit that he was scared didn't help. She'd wanted him to admit it – hell, a tiny part of her was glad he did – but it threw her to hear him so uncertain. Steve had always known what he wanted, and he always went out and got it.
Still – and it killed her to acknowledge this small betrayal – she was happy to hear him so open, and she knew it was because Jayne wasn't there. Jayne wasn't there, and so Steve didn't feel the pressure to posture, to act like he was strong and ok when he wasn't. There was no putting on a show for fear his older, badder sister would think less of him.
She'd never really realized before exactly what Jayne's presence did to the kid.
"I don't know," Steve suddenly sighed. Lynn instantly turned her eyes on him. "Sometimes it seems so pointless, you know? One badass demon, lying low and outsmarting us. We have to find that thing, and it could be anywhere in the freaking world… how the hell are were supposed to track that, anyway?"
Lynn stared silently at him for a moment. She wanted to say something positive and reassuring. She wanted to be the optimist – the cheerleader – she wanted to chase away all his fears and problems and convince him that everything was going to be ok, and that at the end of all this, their family was going to come out on top. But she couldn't make herself say the words. He was right, really. How the hell were they supposed to stop anything when they knew nothing about what they needed to stop?
"You know, I think we're going to be ok," she told him. "Really, I do."
He snorted. "Liar."
She swallowed. That hit home. "Seriously, Steve. Everything looks hopeless now, I agree. I'm freaking out too. But… we almost got it once, right? We'll get it again."
Steve stared at her for a long moment. She forced a smile for him, and she could tell by the hard, scrutinizing look in his eyes that he didn't buy it for a moment. But he forced a smile back, and nodded.
"Sure," he agreed. "We'll get it again."
Lynn nodded too. She was right, after all. They had to.
Jayne plopped her empty beer glass down on the bar and spun on her barstool, surveying the dark, depressing tavern. Ellen was still behind the counter, filling glasses for other customers, and Jo was flitting about the place, wiping down tables and collecting crappy tips.
It was still light out, but there were enough hunters convened in the Roadhouse that it was easy for her to get lost in the shuffle. Sam was in the back, talking to Ash, and Jayne stayed on her corner of the tavern, determined to keep her distance from the mullet-sporting computer genius. She was in no mood for his antics.
Dean was nowhere in sight. He'd disappeared at some point when the regulars started streaming in, and now she couldn't find him. Despite everything that had happened the night before and earlier today, Jayne found that she had to find him. Telling Ellen everything had to have messed him up. The scene on the bridge, the conversations with Sam and Andy… almost killing her… these were things that were undoubtedly playing on his mind.
Jayne really didn't want to talk about any of those things, but she wanted to see him. One look was all she needed to tell if he was all right. She glanced around the bar one more time. Satisfied that Sam, Ellen and Jo were otherwise occupied, she hopped down from her stool and strode purposefully for the front door.
She ducked outside into the late afternoon light. The sun was setting, and the sky was turning bright shades of orange and gold. Jayne let the door fall shut behind her, and then she traipsed across the long shadows, sneaking around the corner of the building.
Dean was leaning on the wall, away from prying eyes, nursing a beer. Jayne eyed the dark bottle, leaning her hip against the building and folding her arms over her chest. "Not worried about that open container violation, huh?" she quipped.
He barely looked at her. "I think we've got bigger problems," he shrugged.
There was a long silence. Jayne stared at the gravel under her boots, and Dean stared at the horizon line, watching the sun set.
"So, uh… Ellen's good people," she said. "I mean, I think."
He snorted.
"She isn't going to tell anyone who shouldn't know," Jayne pointed out. "She isn't going to stab Sam in his sleep. I mean… I didn't want to tell her either. But I think it's ok that she knows."
Dean said nothing, and Jayne started to feel like she was talking too much. It was an odd thing to feel – she never talked too much. One might argue she never talked enough.
She fell silent. Dean offered nothing of his own to the nonexistent conversation. "Look, can we stop being weird?" she asked after awhile. "You almost killed me. Big deal."
"It is a big deal," he snapped.
Jayne stared at him, surprised he'd decided to talk after all. Dean glared at her a moment, and then shook his head, looking away.
"So, what?" she asked. "You feel bad? Guilty? Want to apologize? Fucking do it; stop avoiding me."
Dean's jaw twitched. She stared at him, waiting for him to say or do anything at all. Dean didn't move; Dean didn't speak. Jayne sighed, exasperated, and rolled her eyes. "It's over now, and it was Webber anyways. Everything's fine."
Dean shook his head, lowering his eyes to the ground. "Nothing's fine," he whispered. "Not really."
Jayne waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. She waited a long time, actually, but got nothing except silence. Finally, she had to push him. "Is this even about Webber?" she demanded. "About the bridge, and the you-almost-shooting-me thing, or… or is this about something else?"
Dean glared at the gravel and shrugged one shoulder.
"Damn it, I wish you would talk to me!" Jayne exploded. Dean flinched slightly, but didn't look at her. "If you think you're actually fooling me, then you're a fucking idiot! I know you're hiding something, Dean! What is your problem?!"
He chuckled, low and deep and bitter. That was always a bad sign. "You want to know what my problem is?" he asked quietly.
Jayne stared at him, refusing to waver. "Yeah. I really do."
"Screw this," he muttered, pitching his empty beer bottle at the acres of scrub brush behind the bar. It hit the dirt and bounced instead of shattering. Jayne stared at the brown glass bottle rolling on the ground as Dean brushed past her.
She turned around and grabbed his arm. "Don't do that."
He glared at her over his shoulder. "Do what?"
"What you're doing," she retorted. "You are pushing me away. I got too close to something, right? What don't you want me to know?"
Dean jerked his arm free. "It's not your problem."
"Bull shit!"
"I don't want to talk about it!"
"I don't care!"
There was a long tense silence. Dean's chest was heaving up and down, and he was glowering at her again. Jayne glared right back, her head high, her breathing heavy.
"You want to know?" he asked her finally, his tone low and dangerous. "Really?"
"Fuck, Dean," she growled. "You know I do. Just tell me!"
The corner of his mouth twitched upwards for just a moment. He shook his head and snorted. "All that talk in there – about the psychics? Whether or not they're dangerous?"
"What about it?"
"Ellen said no secrets or half-truths. Right?"
"Spit it out, already."
Dean smirked at her. It was almost like he enjoyed delivering the news – like he wanted to hurt her. "Before he died, my dad did say something to me. About Sam. And the demon."
The announcement was a slap in the face. Jayne blinked at him. She actually staggered back a step. "What?" she whispered.
"He told me…"
"Why didn't you say something before?" she interrupted furiously.
Dean gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes. "You want to hear it or not?"
She glared at him but fell silent. Dean took a deep breath and carried on. "My Dad said… he said I had to… I had to save Sam."
Jayne blinked at that. Dean looked at the ground, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. "Well, he always told you to take care of Sam," she pointed out, frowning at him. "I don't understand. Why…?"
"You aren't listening," he snapped. "He told me I had to save him. Like… I don't know. Like something was coming for him, or…"
He choked on the words, swallowing hard and glaring at the ground. Jayne frowned at him again. "OK," she murmured. "So he told you to save Sam."
Dean nodded.
"He didn't say from what?"
Dean shook his head. Jayne sighed, tangling her hand in her hair and slumping against the wall. "All right," she whispered. "And if you couldn't save him… what happens then?"
He looked torn up inside, and a tiny part of Jayne wanted to forget this whole conversation and focus on fixing him. But that part of her was miniscule in comparison to the rest of her. She was furious with him for not speaking up sooner, for keeping her in the dark about this. Whatever John said about Sam could apply to Steve too, and Dean had no right to keep that from her.
"Dean," she said slowly and meaningfully. "What else did John tell you?"
He blinked up at her with big, shining green eyes. "He said… he said if I couldn't… if I couldn't save him, I'd… I'd have to kill him, Jaynie."
Her stomach flipped over, and she folded her arms tightly over her abdomen in an attempt to keep herself together. Killing Sam? Killing… killing her brother was not an option either, and Sam couldn't…
Jayne fixed her eyes on the weeds growing out of the gravel. He'd almost gotten to her, using that nickname. Trying to soften her up so she wouldn't scream. But it wasn't going to work, and the asshole should have known that.
"I cannot fucking believe you," she hissed, still staring at the gravel.
Dean blinked. "Excuse me?"
"How dare you?" she snapped, forcing herself to look into his eyes. Dean frowned at her, but Jayne kept right on going. "How could you keep that from me?"
A second before, Dean had been wide-eyed and vulnerable. The mask went on again, and he tilted his chin defensively, hardening his eyes. "Wasn't your problem," he shrugged.
"Bull shit!" she exclaimed. "You know damn well that your problems are my problems. Anything that applies to Sam and the demon can just as easily apply to Steve. Did you really think I didn't deserve to know? Did you really think I didn't need to be warned that something bad could come for our brothers? That we needed to save them, or… or…"
Jayne couldn't say the words either. She choked on them, once against tightening her arms over her stomach. Dean shook his head and chuckled darkly. "You are such a hypocrite, you know that?" he retorted. "Like you've never kept a secret. Russ's journals and the incubus? That theory of yours about our brothers? Cambions, right? That's what you called it."
"It's not the same thing!" she retorted.
"Like hell it isn't!"
"It's not! I told you!"
There it was; laid out before both of them. She was automatically embarrassed by the admission, but it was far too late to take it back. Keeping that secret from her… she could not repress that feeling of betrayal.
Dean blinked and took a step back. Jayne held her head high and glowered at him. He looked surprised, and then he looked ashamed. She was far too gone to give a damn.
"I couldn't," he told her gently, and for some reason that got her hackles up again. "I just… I've been carrying this around for more than a month now. I know what it does to a person. You're right; what my Dad said? Could just as easily be about Steve. And I knew that would hurt you, and maybe I just didn't want to…"
"Oh, spare me," she spat. "This is not about protecting my feelings and you know it! It was about you, and your crap! Saying it out loud makes it too real, right?"
Silence followed her outburst. She glared at him, breathing heavily again. Her fists were clenched too tight as she tried to calm herself down; rein in all the rage. Dean stared at her, looking taken aback at first. That quickly melted into anger, and soon he was wearing an ugly glower of his own.
"You know what?" he said after a while. "You're mad at me, and honestly? I'm kind of pissed at you now. So… I'm done. I'm not doing this."
He turned his back on her and walked back towards the bar. The sight of Dean walking away from her was getting all too familiar, and it did nothing to placate her fury. "That's right!" she shouted after him. "Fine! Walk away from me! What else is new?"
Dean stopped in his tracks and slowly turned his head, looking fiercely at her over his shoulder. Jayne sneered at him. "You son of a bitch," she whispered. "You… just walk, damn it! It's all you're good for lately! I'm finished holding your hand!"
He stared at her, mute. His eyes were angry, but apparently he had nothing to say to her. That only pissed her off more. "When you're ready to really talk, find me," she spat. "But before then? I don't even want to look at you!"
She wasn't sure what she was saying, and she doubted Dean understood either. It was like everything had just bubbled to the surface and spewed out of her mouth. All her past grievances with Dean were trying to reach air at the same time, and they were getting jumbled together. Dean ducked his head and glared at the gravel. Then he shook his head and looked up at her. His eyes were clear and hard, and Jayne wondered if maybe he understood exactly what she was talking about, after all.
"Just go!" she exploded.
And he did. Dean turned his back on her without a word, and stalked around the corner. She hunched over slightly, staring at the ground. Her eyes were stinging, and her breath was coming in shallow gasps.
She heard the tavern's front door slam, and for some reason that did her in. Jayne fell back against the tavern, blinking back a surprise attack of tears, and slowly slid down the wall, sitting down hard on the gravel. She buried her face in her hands, the tears rolling down her cheeks now, and let a single, strangled sob escape her throat.
With the sun setting in the distance, and the music from the tavern playing behind her, Jayne sat alone on the cold, dusty ground and allowed herself to cry – for losing Russ, for the Winchesters losing John, for Sam and Steve and their uncertain future, and most importantly for the stupid boy she'd very foolishly fallen in love with.
