Judgement: Part 2
"It's been over a day! The Shostakovich thing could've killed her by now!"
"Shozuka-no-baba," Sam corrected, not turning away from his research. "And I think I've found a location pattern on where our victims were taken." He pointed to the map on his laptop. "I have a theory that our killer might be trying to blend in…these houses are right along the river. We can't exactly go breaking down all twenty doors, so I'm trying to find a way to narrow it down."
Dean paced angrily. He'd already gone on a walk to find any signs of their companion, plus two drives and three food runs. Sam knew that his brother felt like he owed the woman something, and they'd already lost her once to some crazy demon…they preferred to not have a repeat.
"It should'a been me!" the older man finally groaned.
"Don't get your hopes up. She died and went Down Under sooner than you did, so you could be next."
"Yeah, but…after all I put her through, it should be me being punished for my crimes. Not her!"
"Dean, you were tortured for thirty years! You already paid for any crimes tenfold!"
"But she didn't have any! In the end, I…I tried to break her! I didn't want to hurt her anymore. And I started to enjoy it by then, too. You know how long it was before she was rescued? Six years, just the two of us and Alastair. I don't know where they had her before that."
"But at least she was rescued, Dean! She wasn't tortured for nearly as long as you."
"Not by me, at least. And, when I was under the knife, I at least had my hate for Alastair to keep me going. Jen, she… I don't think she ever hated me. And that made it worse. She acted like she deserved it. She didn't!"
"Dean." Dean stopped pacing at his brother's commanding tone. "You can grovel when we find her. I care about her too, but this isn't helping."
"You don't understand, Sammy. If you're right and this creature is going to make her relive all of her past injuries…it has six years of torture to work with."
That certainly gave Sam extra motivation to find Jennifer before it was too late. If Dean really was the next target, he couldn't let him relive those years in Hell.
Jennifer moaned dully as salt was rubbed into the open wounds on her back. She couldn't scream for the moment; her voice was broken for the day. She couldn't twist away from the pain; the barbed wire around her torso was wound too tightly. She couldn't vomit; even last time, only blood came up.
"Hm, shame about the face," Alastair considered, grabbing her dislocated jaw. She glared at him with her good eye. "I hate to waste it."
With a wave of his hand – barely even that – all her injuries were gone. Again. Back to merely being bound by twisted chained, her flesh intact, her shaking will still standing. Dean was getting good. In fact, she was sure now that he had come to enjoy this…finding new ways to torment her. It had become a game. They weren't fellow hunters anymore. Just torturer and captive. He wore power well.
She kept her eyes closed, trying to match the steel determination of her junior jailer. Most of the time, she tried to ignore Alastair; but, considering he was the one who healed her every time, it was difficult.
She was tired. She was so close to just giving up. And they knew it. But then a whisper in the back of her mind told her to hold on just a little longer. Help would be coming. So, she would keep going.
The angels were still there, small comfort that they were. Jen found herself choking on her own blood for a good minute before Datsu (the nickname she had decided to give the monster) rolled her eyes and magicked away the excess blood.
Jen shivered helplessly, attempting to focus on any part of her that wasn't in agony; she failed. Next was to focus on her jerky, suffocated breathing, slowing it down in an attempt to calm her skipping heart. Even if the Winchesters came, would she be alive enough to be worth the risk?
She waited for the next torment, not even remembering what it could be anymore. But there was nothing. She squinted her bloodshot eyes at Datsu, who was standing a few feet away, looking thoughtful. Her white hair and blouse were neither stained nor rumpled…no sign of the occurring horrors. In the moment of silence, Jen was fully aware of the drops of blood drizzling from the slash below her ribs. Finally,
"You are a murderer. A unique one, I admit. You abandoned your sister and are directly responsible for her death. You participated in the breaking of the first Seal to free Lucifer. In many ways, you still deserve to be down there."
Jen didn't try to defend herself. The time she had been under this woman's watch had been filled with such accusations. In many ways, they only confirmed what her inner demons had told her for ages. She left her family to die. She slaughtered her only remaining relative. She was a born killer. Her own sister had pointed out how heartless she could be. She wouldn't, however, let this horrible creature not have a piece of her mind if she really was about to die.
"I see your soul too," she whispered hoarsely, "and trust me, it's blacker than mine."
Datsu's expression remained neutral, back to the ageless beauty.
"You have my sympathies for what the demons did to you, but you must die. As a favor, I will not review the rest of your price. In a way, for all you still remember, this is a gift. I will make it quick, but I cannot change my methods."
Jen blinked in surprise. The angels had left.
Before the brothers even thought of knocking, they picked up what was unmistakably a tortured, dying scream. They instantly kicked the door down and followed the racket to a closed door further in the house. The screaming had died down; however, when they opened the door, they discovered an old crone with white hair hunched over her twitching victim, who was strapped to a table under the faded lighting.
From the wheezing hiccups of breath, the creature was killing their friend. Alerted to their presence, the Shozuka-no-baba jerked around, her face transitioning to ageless beauty even as she hissed,
"The Seal-breaker. And the demon child. I'll get to you soon enough."
With a smile, she turned back to her victim, but Dean barreled into her with Ruby's knife going straight into her heart.
"Not gonna happen."
Yanking the knife free, he didn't even wait for the body to fall before helping Sam undo the restraints.
"Jenny, it's okay, it's okay. We're here."
Jenny's breathing was still ragged and shallow. Luckily though, the killing blows the monster had been using had only begun to make an impact – several deep claw marks on her legs and abdomen that would need stitches. She had died last time from a Hellhound attack; only made sense. What didn't make sense was the agonized yelp that she emitted when Sam tried to help her sit up.
"Jenny, it's okay," the giant encouraged her. "She's dead. Your wounds should heal okay."
Jen kept her eyes closed tightly, clinging to the boys' arms like a lifeline and struggling to compose herself. Dean, testing a theory, touched a spot on her neck where he remembered choking her with barbed wire. She practically growled from the pain.
"Sam, put her back down." Sam looked confused, but obeyed. "Go find water and any supplies to get her cleaned up." At that, the younger sibling paused, expecting an explanation. "I think that thing made her feel a lot more than we see."
"Wait."
"What?"
Sam squinted through the dim, surveying the damage.
"Scars."
"What?"
"Dean, she didn't have any scars before."
That was all Sam needed to jog back outside. Dean stayed behind, noting the jagged white webbing that now practically covered Jennifer's entire body. The gunshot wound she had before Hell was back on her face. Sharp, puckered lines gave away a few tokens of the Hellhound attack, though the monster seemed to have been saving the worst of that for killing her.
Then there was the rest. Brands, burns, faded dots on her neck from barbed wire, long lines of white left from razors and knives…Dean's own handiwork. He was shocked back to the moment as a cool, clammy hand slipped into his.
"Dean…"
Her breathing had slowed to normal and her eyes were opening, but the occasional shiver and her reluctance to sit up still gave away her drained state. Dean leaned heavily on the table, unable to tear his eyes away from those scars.
"I'm sorry," he choked defeatedly.
"Sorry for then, or sorry for now?"
"Sorry for what I became. I still can't believe how you shut it out, what I did to you."
"I didn't shut it out." She paused, studying his face. "Dean. It's okay."
"Stop saying that. It's not okay, Jenny."
Stubbornness winning out, the woman forced herself into a sitting position, managing only a faint cringe. She took a moment to numbly consider her new scars.
"Dean, none of it was your fault. You stood strong longer than most anyone could have. This is Hell we're talking about. None of us stood a chance on forever." Dean found very little comfort in that. "Dean." The calming sound of her voice forced the hunter to make eye contact. "It's not just angels and demons I can see. I've found that I can see other souls when I want to. We all have our own demons, our darkness. Our actions aren't for nothing. Trust me, you have a kinder soul than you think."
Sam finally got back and went to help Jen off the table.
"We can patch you up in the living room upstairs. Better lighting."
Jennifer Webb slept soundly, disturbed only by memories brought about by her twinging scars. Finally, though, one of the nightmares was enough to wake her.
The Shozuka-no-baba's living area conveniently had three large couches. The Winchesters had decided to stay there the rest of the night to give Jen a chance to recover a bit. Both boys were passed out, their expressions relaxed in their slumber. But someone else was here.
The woman sat up perhaps a little too quickly at the angel's proximity, right on the edge of couch.
"Castiel," she greeted, shifting as her fresh wounds began to itch.
"Are you alright?"
She cocked her head at the question.
"Not really, considering I just had a bunch of memories dug up that would have been great staying buried."
Cas seemed to notice her discomfort and placed a hand on her knee. She instantly felt her fresh injuries disappear, stitches and all.
"Your wounds and the side effects of your possession are gone, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about the scars."
"That okay. They were always there, even if no one could see them. Thanks."
Cas just stared a moment. Jen held his gaze unblinkingly.
"You watched out for him. You endured for as long as you were required. Did you know it was him torturing you that broke the first Seal?"
"I knew something happened."
"Why?"
Jenny took a moment to respond to that. Why did she let herself be tormented for six years?
"I didn't want more faces to haunt him, if I could help it."
"Did it really matter? He still tormented hundreds if not thousands of souls."
"But I saved him from having thousands of others tiptoeing through his conscience. However small the impact was…" She shrugged. "…I think it was worth it. Someone had to watch out for him down there. Guess you coulda called me his Guardian Angel. Is there such a thing?" Cas remained silent. "Cas?"
"Not my department."
"I've heard there are angels being killed. Could they have been wiped out?"
"Many things are uncertain."
"That's not a no." She leaned forward to catch Castiel's gaze again. "I saw your friends again…the ones you couldn't see before. I think there's something I need to do. And it has something to do with them."
"You'll be leaving?"
Her eyes shifted to Dean, then Sam, then Dean again.
"I'm just a walking reminder, at this point. These boys have enough problems without me." Cas nodded. "If you need help, just look me up."
Jenny stayed with the Winchesters for a few days after the Shozuka-no-baba incident. She managed to half-convince Dean that he didn't need to feel guilty over what had happened. On the third day, Sam walked into their trashy hotel room to find Jen packing up her things. He handed her the extra coffee he was holding when she paused. Her new brown denim jacket was zipped up all the way to conceal the scars below her face; they fit her, though he wouldn't tell her that for a while. Her sister's old Led Zeppelin jacket had been tossed into a bonfire two days ago.
"You're leaving again."
She sipped her coffee somewhat sheepishly.
"This time is different. I talked to the angels…the 'sentinels' or whatever. I think they need help."
"Yeah, because we've had such great luck with angels so far," Dean grumbled as he strode through the door.
"These are different they're…untainted by the fear and hate that has somehow overtaken angels like Uriel. If they can help our cause, then I have to do what I can. I don't know why my encounter with that spirit made it so I can see them – Cas can't even see them! – but we need allies."
"This doesn't have anything to do with…" Dean gestured broadly at Jennifer.
"The scars are part of who I am now. Nothing we can do." She set her coffee aside and went back to packing. "I forgave you a long time ago, you know. We're hunters. This sort of stuff is just a hazard of the job. You boys know that."
Dean grunted unsatisfactorily, but Sam knew he'd get over it eventually.
"Alastair is dead, by the way, if that helps."
Jenny froze, her expression stony.
"It does. He was the one I blamed anyway." She rolled her eyes. "Dean, the puppy-dog look is only going to get you so far. I'm sorry, but Sam is much better at it." Sam furrowed his eyebrows guiltily and she laughed. "I'll be back. Lord knows, I can't seem to stay away from you boys."
