Full Summary and Warnings in Chapter One…
_
Chapter Twelve – You better have soul…
One important thing that Sam learns about cavernous bunkers located deep underground is that they are cold.
Luka has finished three cans of tinned peaches, scooping the orangey flesh out of the tin ravenously with his fingers and then drinking the syrup, like the tin is a cup, and is now sitting shivering next to Sam. Sam is shivering worse than Luka; he doesn't have a blanket. He gets to his feet with a sigh.
"Where are you going?" Luka's voice is edged with panic.
"Going to get some more blankets."
"What about the man?"
"You'll be safe enough in the circle."
Luka nods, "But what about you?"
Sam channels Dean again, "I'll be fine. You just stay here and don't leave the circle, no matter what."
Luka swallows hard then nods.
Sam grips the salt in his pocket tightly then moves cautiously out of the store room, through the kitchen/dining area and into the sleeping quarters. Row after row of grey-blanketed bunk beds fill the area, but Sam doesn't stop to explore, just grabs two blankets from the nearest beds and hauls ass back out towards the store room.
He's half way across the kitchen/dining area when the air around him drops several degrees, a faint breeze kicks up in the entirely air locked bunker, and the hairs on the back of Sam's neck start to bristle.
He whirls quickly to find Jonas standing behind him, a lecherous grin on his face. Sam soon wipes that off, whipping his hand out of his pocket and hurling a fistful of salt straight at Jonas' mouth.
Jonas howls with inhuman fury and vanishes.
Sam struggles to control his shaking as he hurries towards the store room. He can hear Luka calling for him, the terror obvious in his voice.
"It's okay, Luka," he calls out, "I'm coming."
And then the temperature drops again and Sam whirls to confront the ghost, his heart almost pounding out of his chest.
Jonas has stopped some way away from him, out of salt-throwing range, and is grinning with sick, sadistic pleasure. Sam watches in abject horror as the ghost slowly waves open a kitchen drawer and levitates several large knives out of it.
Sam drapes the blankets around his neck to free up his hands, casts about desperately and then lunges for the large, plastic trash cans he spots up against the far wall. He grabs the lid from one of them and whirls, using it like a shield to bat away the hurtling knives.
Jonas howls with rage as the flung knives are swatted uselessly to the floor and he starts hurling everything in sight at Sam. Sam grabs another trash can lid and begins to inch his way slowly across the floor to the store room, batting away hurtling projectiles as he goes.
His heart is racing, his stomach is somersaulting and his blood is roaring and pumping in his ears so loudly that he can barely make out the sound of Luka's terrified sobbing. Sam is every bit as scared as Luka but he knows that he has to be the strong one here. He's the one who knows how to fight the supernatural, who understands what's going on. Luka is a civilian and it's Sam's job to protect him.
"You're mine, boy!" Jonas rasps, "I'm gonna split you in two; when I'm through with you, you're gonna wish you were dead!"
"Is this the part where you tell me your entire evil plan?" Dean's attitude pours unbidden from Sam's mouth, "Coz I've gotta tell you, Jonas, that never ends well for the bad guys."
Half a dozen knives and several large spoons slam uselessly into Sam's shield.
"You'll pay for this boy!" Jonas growls.
"Yeah, yeah," Sam snarks, "me and my little dog too, right?"
He takes a final step backwards into the salt circle and hands one of the trash can lids to Luka.
"Will the circle stop the knives?" Luka asks hopefully.
Sam shakes his head.
Jonas moves silently into the storeroom's doorway, an array of cutlery floating ominously before him.
"Batter up," Sam quips, as he raises his shield.
X
Jax leans back in his seat, stretches his legs out in front of him and sighs contentedly. Riding shotgun in the Impala is every bit as sweet as he thought it would be; he's on a mission to kick some ghostly butt and rescue a couple of kids; and he can't pretend he's not as excited as all fuck to be in on the action.
The only downer is John Winchester who's sitting in the driver's seat looking gruff and pissed and yet scarily focused at the same time.
"Sweet ride," Jax ventures.
John grunts.
Jax tries again.
"So we're gonna break into the bunker through the church entrance, rescue Sam and Luka and keep Jonas distracted while Clay, my Mom and Dean find and destroy whatever remains are holding him here?"
John's eyes slide across to him.
"We've already been over this," he grouches, "You having second thoughts?"
"Hell no. Just, you know, don't want anything to go wrong."
John grunts again.
"You're babbling coz you're scared. Right."
Jax huffs.
"I'm psyched, not scared. I just…." he pauses, "I just wanna make sure….I don't want to screw up again.
John meets the boy's eyes and sees the burning determination and fierce commitment in them. He nods approvingly.
"You'll be fine," he says, "just make sure you follow my orders. If you've got questions, ask them now. A battle field is not the place for second guessing your commanding officer. When we're out there, you do what you're told, when you're told. If I say 'drop' you hit the ground immediately. You obey me without question or hesitation because if you don't, you could die. Do you understand?"
Jax nods. "Yeah," he says, "I get it."
He waits a beat then asks,
"Why does salt hurt ghosts?"
"It's a substance of purity."
"Yeah," Jax nods, "Dean told me that. But why does it hurt them?"
John shrugs, "No idea."
"What about the iron? Why does that hurt them?"
John shrugs again, "The lore says it does, and it does. What does it matter why?"
Jax doesn't want John to think he's being disrespectful so he chooses his words carefully, "It doesn't matter, I guess. It's just….if we don't know why it works, how can we be confident that it always will work? I guess….I guess I just like to know a little more about my tools, that's all."
Jax braces himself, figures John won't appreciate the implied criticism, and what with the whole militaristic alpha male thing the man's got going on it wouldn't surprise Jax at all if John smacked him upside the head for that comment.
It does surprise him when John grins at him and says, "You know, you remind me a lot of Sammy. His brain's always working overtime, always wanting to know why. Trust me when I say that both salt and iron will work on Jonas. If you want to know more about why, research it in your own time."
Jax grimaces.
"Supernatural homework? No thanks. I'd rather shoot at things than sit in a library."
John grins again.
"And now you remind me of Dean!"
They turn into the drive way of the church and then pull around to the back and drive right up to the hurricane-shelter style bunker entrance.
When John opens the Impala's trunk, Jax lets out a low whistle.
"Fuckin' A!" he exclaims, impressed as all hell with the massive assortment of weapons.
And then he winces because now John does smack the back of his head.
"Watch the language," John growls.
Jax scowls because he's a biker, not a fucking boy scout for Christ's sake!
"And lose the attitude," John adds.
Fuck! How the hell do Dean and Sam put up with this guy riding them so hard all the time? No wonder Dean's all yessir, nosir with this guy on his ass all the time!
Jax manages to smooth his face into a mask of calm, quiet determination and John looks satisfied. He hands him a pump action shot gun and Jax's mood lifts immediately. The gun has a strap so Jax slings it over his shoulder then takes the box of ammo John hands him and puts it in the pocket of his hoodie, before taking the two iron rods that John is holding out to him and grasping them firmly in his left hand.
John straps on his own shot gun before hauling a serious looking set of bolt cutters out of the trunk.
John makes short work of the heavy chains locking down the trap door to the bunker and they're inside a dusty corridor within minutes. They creep forwards, silent and watchful, until they come to a huge metal door which, unsurprisingly, is locked.
John withdraws a lock pick from his pocket and has them through the door in a few short minutes. They're now faced with another enormous metal door, this one without any obvious handle and John sighs.
There's an electronic panel to the left of the door, sort of like the pad of an alarm system which, Jax realizes grimly, is exactly what it is.
John stares at the pad for a moment and then keys in "911" enter.
The words System Disarmed, flash on the pad's small screen and Jax laughs triumphantly.
"How the fu…hell did you know that?"
John shrugs.
"Just a hunch. Figured it was worth trying."
"Why isn't the door opening?"
"I don't know. Hand me one of those rods."
Jax watches silently as John tries to pry the door open, muscles straining and sweat beading on his forehead. He gives up eventually and slumps against the steadfastly closed door.
"It's no good, Jax," he puffs, "I don't think it's a problem with the door; I think it's a supernatural lock down."
Jax frowns. "A what?"
"You know in ghost stories, how at the stroke of midnight nobody can get out of the haunted house?"
Jax nods.
"Like that," John says, "only nobody can get out or in."
Jax frowns again.
"Jonas can," he says, "he brought Luka in, then he brought Sam in, and he's supposed to bring in at least one other kid, right?"
"That's not helpful Jax. We need to get in there. The last thing we want is Jonas bringing in another ten year old kid."
Jax worries his bottom lip for a moment and then says tentatively, "Okay…but…we could probably, uh, persuade him to take me in there."
"Excuse me?" John's tone is low and dangerous.
"Just hear me out before you start whacking me again, okay!" Jax says urgently and John narrows his eyes, then nods.
"We need to get in there, right? And the only way in there at the moment is if Jonas takes you in there, right?" Jax's grey eyes bore into John's. John nods reluctantly.
"Jonas is sure as shit not gonna take you in there, yeah? But me, on the other hand…..no wait," Jax holds a hand up imploringly when John opens his mouth to speak. John snaps his jaw shut with a sigh and nods at Jax to continue.
"I know I'm too old for the sick fuck-" Jax's eyes widen slightly when he realizes what he just said, and he mumbles a quick apology before continuing, "Well anyway, you said the other day, when me and Dean wanted to come to the graveyard with you, that if Jonas is pissed enough he might just grab one of us and make do. So….that's the plan. Piss him off, enough to push him into snatching me, then at least one of us can be in there protecting the kids."
"Are you finished?" John says flatly.
Jax shrugs.
"Dunno. You willing to give my plan a shot or should I keep talking?"
"Your plan. Right. Let me go over that. I stand idly by while a fifteen year old kid let's a serial killing pedophile snatch him. Did I miss anything important? Like the part where you explain how this isn't a suicide mission and why I shouldn't kick your ass for even suggesting it?"
Jax's eyes blaze. "I can look after myself," he asserts. He waves the gun and the iron rod, "and it's not like I'm going in there empty handed. All I've gotta do is hold Jonas off, either until the others salt and burn the rest of the remains or until the cycle finishes, whichever happens first."
John grinds his teeth, his hands tightening into fists.
"And if you get killed? What do I tell Clay and your Mom then? That I just stood back and let you walk in there?"
Jax worries at his bottom lip.
"Tell them I disobeyed you," he says with a shrug, and this time John's hand does come up and whack the back of his head.
"You want me to get you killed and then lie about it?"
"No! I just don't want Clay to blame you if something goes wrong! So if you say I disobeyed…."
John regards Jax appraisingly.
"Will it come to that?" he asks, "If I order you to abandon your crazy-ass plan, will you go ahead anyway?"
Jax takes a deep breath and glances up at the ceiling. He's really upset that John doesn't trust him to do this, but then he can't really blame the man. He already fucked up once, getting distracted by the Mayans and letting Sam get snatched. Why should John trust him to do something as important as this? What has he done to earn the man's trust? What has he shown him except for a moody, foul-mouthed, undisciplined teenager all too happy to tell him to fuck off?
He chews on his bottom lip again and then meets John's eyes.
"I can do this, sir," he says, doing his best to be the model of a perfect soldier, "but you're in charge. If you say no, then it's no."
John's guts twist and clench.
"Jax," he says painfully, "this is too big a risk; too much to ask of you. You could get killed. You could get…..," John takes his own deep breath, "you could get raped."
Jax laughs humorlessly, "Not gonna happen," he says, "not with me all tooled up for fighting ghosts. But…..if…." he pushes back his hair and his breathing stutters, "well, better me than Sam or Luka. At least I've been around the block a coupla times. Something like that….it would wreck those kids for life."
John's eyes fill with torment, but he doesn't say a word.
"It's a shitty plan, sir, I know it is," Jax continues, encouraged by John's silence, "but it's the best one we've got. And I can't just stand here knowing what those kids are facing and do nothing," the anguish in his expression is very real as he begs, "Please don't make me do that. Let me do this."
There's a long moment of silence while John and Jax hold each other's eyes and steel themselves for the decision.
"Alright," John says finally, "God have mercy on my soul, but alright."
Jax draws in a deep, shaky breath.
"Okay. Can I have your weapons too, sir?"
John hands them over. "I'll wait in the outer corridor," he says, "Jonas is more likely to come after you if you're alone."
Jax nods. "And you better block your ears. I'm gonna be trying to make him angry so I'm gonna say some shit."
John huffs, "I'll live. You take care of yourself. Don't take any unnecessary risks, you hear me?"
He heads back into the outer corridor, pulling the door softly closed behind him and suddenly Jax is alone.
He's scared as hell and his blood is buzzing with adrenalin but he wants to do this; wants to protect Sam and Luka and blast Jonas full of rock salt for what he's already done to the kids in this town.
"Jonas Montgomery!" he yells out, "You sad, pathetic loser! I know you're in there! This is Jax Teller, Jonas. Do you remember me? Blonde hair, grey eyes? You used to hang around The Taste of Charming festivals ogling my ass; even tried to cop a feel once. You remember that, you sick fuck? I was ten years old and just your type and I reckon you wanted me bad. But then my Dad found out your secret and had your throat slit. Your Daddy might've fucked you Jonas, but my Daddy fucked you up and I bet you'd love to make me pay for that, wouldn't you Jonas? You sick, miserable-"
But Jax doesn't get to finish the sentence because the air around him suddenly goes cold, a pair of arms wrap around his middle and the world goes dark.
X
Dean watches the Impala pull out of the driveway and a feeling of grief and loss settles in the pit of his stomach. It should be him going with his Dad to rescue Sam. Sam is his responsibility; he's the one who stuffed up and let him get snatched and the fact that he's not going to be the one putting himself in between Sam and danger is making him nervous. If only-
"C'mon, sweetheart," Tig says impatiently from the back of his bike, "Stop pining after Jax and put this on," he waves a motor cycle helmet at Dean and Dean grimaces.
He'd expected that he, Clay and Gemma would go to Lodi in Gemma's car but apparently all official club business must be travelled to by motor cycle, and the possibility of a hostile presence (albeit a ghostly one) means that Clay's decided to bring his sergeant-at-arms along for the ride too.
As sergeant-at-arms it's Tig's job to protect his president, and besides, he's the only one of Clay's men crazy enough to buy into the whole 'monsters are real' scenario without proof or question.
Dean puts Tig's proffered helmet on reluctantly and then looks at Gemma. She's sitting on the back of Clay's bike, flush up against his back with her thighs squeezed against his and her arms wrapped around his waist.
Riding tandem seems to require you to get up close and personal; it's a very intimate activity and Dean can well believe Jax's claim that taking a girl out on the back of his bike has never failed to get him laid. He glances at Tig and shudders.
Tig smirks. "Whatsamatta sweet cheeks?" he sticks a hand out and squeezes Dean's ass, "Scared you're gonna get a hard on?"
Dean treats Tig to his best death stare.
"How hard is it to ride with a broken hand?" he asks, and Tig pulls his arm back without comment.
Dean slings a leg over the bike and sits as far away from Tig as he possibly can.
He very nearly goes for the man's throat when Tig reaches back and pulls him further forward, plastering Dean up against his back.
"If I put my bike down because you fuck up my center of gravity," Tig growls, "I'll fuck you up; we clear?"
Dean nods, his body tense.
"Hold on to me," Tig says, and Dean complies, putting his hands on Tig's shoulders and clutching onto his jacket, "Lean when I do," Tig instructs, "And relax for fuck's sake!"
Dean nods again, then swallows. The engine roars to life and the vibrations go straight to Dean's crotch. He sighs and resigns himself to an uncomfortable and possibly embarrassing ride, but in the end it's not too bad and the half hour ride is over almost too quickly.
Not that Dean will ever admit it to Jax, but he's quietly ready to concede that riding a bike is kind of a turn on, and riding tandem with someone you were attracted to, yeah, he can see how that'd be awesome. He's also ready to concede that he enjoys the exhilaration of riding a Harley, loves the feel of the wind in his hair and the way the bike tilts around the corners, barely skimming the road.
Still, the machine itself is not a patch on his baby. The Harley can't compete with the Impala's sleek, gleaming curves, and besides, there's just not enough trunk space on a bike for the Winchester arsenal.
One thing the Impala and the Harley have in common is that neither of them can sneak up on anyone and Jonas's aunt, Miss Laurie-Mae Miller, is waiting for them on her front porch, hands on hips and lips pursed in a combination of fear and annoyance.
Gemma takes charge, hugging the woman tightly as she introduces herself and reminds Laurie-Mae that they spoke on the phone earlier.
Gemma doesn't bother to introduce Clay or Tig; their cuts and patches say all Laurie-Mae needs to know about who they are, and Dean's just a kid.
Gemma guides Laurie-Mae into the house with an arm around her shoulders and the women and Clay settle into the lounge room. Tig stands guard by the door and no-one gives Dean any instructions so he decides to just stick by Tig.
Laurie-Mae bustles around getting drinks for Gemma, Clay and herself and ignores Tig and Dean, which suits Dean just fine. He sneaks the EMF reader out of his jacket and switches it on, but he doesn't get any readings. He'll sweep the house later if he has to but now he figures it's best just to listen as Gemma and Clay pump Laurie-Mae for information.
She's horrified, of course, to hear that Jonas might be back, but skeptical too.
"I saw him with my own eyes," Clay rumbles, "He's back. So you're saying he hasn't contacted you yet?"
Laurie-Mae's face drains of color and she shakes her head.
"We think he's looking for something," Gemma improvises, "You're the one who got all his stuff when he was declared dead. What do you think he's looking for?"
"I have no idea!" Laurie-Mae exclaims emphatically, "I threw out a lot of his stuff, or gave it to the Goodwill. I only kept the real personal stuff, like his books and his medals and so on. Sentimental, I know, but he wasn't always a bad person. Once upon a time he was just a sad, abused little boy."
Dean harrumphs and the adults all turn and look at him.
"Should've known better then, shouldn't he?" he says defensively, "Should've known how bad that shit was and shouldn't've put a bunch of other kids through it too."
Laurie-Mae's eyes fill with tears. "You're right," she says softly, "but I think by the time he started….well….I think he was just too damaged to know any better. And I hold myself responsible for that," she turns her watery eyes to Gemma, "I helped his Daddy to look after him when he was a baby," she says, "helped out right up until Jonas Junior started school, but after that his daddy pushed me out of their life," her tears finally spill, "I should've known," her voice quavers painfully, "I think I did know, but I washed my hands of the situation; turned a blind eye."
Gemma puts a hand to her arm.
"I'm sure you did the best you could," she says, but Dean can see that she doesn't really mean it, "Maybe you could show us the stuff of his that you kept? Maybe it'll help us sort this mess out."
"Sure," Laurie-Mae pulls herself together and stands up, "It's up in the attic."
X
Jax groans…..and then stills abruptly because….fuck!
He's face down on a cold concrete floor, his pants are down, there's a heavy weight on his legs and a cold hand on his ass.
"You're mine, boy!" he hears a rough voice say, "I'm gonna split you in two; when I'm through with you, you're gonna wish you were dead!"
Yeah. Okay. That is so not happening!
Either Jonas was so eager to get on with the show that he didn't bother to notice that Jax is armed to the teeth, or else being dead kills off a lot of your brain cells. Jax doesn't really care either way, all that matters to him is that when Jonas shifts his weight a little, presumably so that he can make good on his threat to, uh, yeah, Jax is able to twist around and bring up the shot gun.
"Fuck you, asshole!" he yells as he pumps Jonas full of salt, causing him to vanish.
"Jax? Is that you?"
It's Sam and Jax's relief is a living, breathing thing.
"Yeah!" he calls back, "Hang on, I'm coming."
He scrambles to his feet quickly and yanks up his pants. He runs a shaky hand across his mouth and, yeah, it's gonna take quite a few shots of Jack to forget that sonovabitch's hands on his ass.
"Guess it's true what they say about me," Jax mutters to himself, "too fuckin' easy to get into my pants. Next time I do this, gonna wear tight jeans."
"We're in the store room," Sam shouts, "Is Dean or my Dad with you?"
Jonas reappears with a howl and Jax pumps the shotgun and blasts him into oblivion again.
"Uh, no. There's a supernatural lock down, your Dad couldn't get in," Jax hurries towards the sound of Sam's voice, stopping and whirling around when he feels a cold wind behind him and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"Fuck!" Jax barely manages to leap aside as a knife is hurled at him. He shoots Jonas again and then calls out for Sam, "I'm in, like, an army barracks dorm or something. How do I get to you?"
"Straight through the doorway, across the kitchen and through the doorway on the right hand side."
"Okay, I'm coming."
Jax sprints and he sags with relief when he spies Sam and Luka standing in a circle of salt.
Sam's eyes suddenly widen.
"Drop!" he commands, and Jax throws himself to the ground without hesitation, spinning and firing as he does. Jonas disappears, but the knives he's hurled keep going. Jax twists his head towards the kids in panic only to see Sam swat the hurtling objects away with the lid of a trash can.
"You kids okay?" Jax asks.
Sam nods.
"You?"
"Yeah," Jax gets to his feet quickly and joins the boys in the circle.
Sam says, "Whatever you did to get in here, it was good timing," he nods towards Luka and Jax sees that the kid's thigh is tightly bandaged with what looks to be a torn off section of Sam's tee-shirt. He glances back at Sam. Yep. His tee-shirt now ends just below his belly button.
"Shit. You doin' okay, Luka?"
Luka nods, but his eyes are glassy with shock.
"It's not too bad," Sam says, "Won't need stitches. And you distracting Jonas when you did…..I got it bandaged pretty quick, so he hasn't lost much blood."
Sam is so calm and matter-of-fact that Jax can't help shaking his head. Seems like Sam has everything under control here; setting up a salt circle, batting away knives with his trash can lids, patching up Luka. Yeah, not like the kid really needs Jax for protection when he's so well-trained and capable himself. Still at least Jax provided a distraction for him.
"Give me one of them," Sam has dropped his shield and is tugging on one of the shotguns.
Jax hands it over without comment. He watches Sam check the magazine then sling the gun over his head and across his chest like an old pro and it suddenly strikes him as funny – sacrilegious almost – that the Winchester shotgun of choice is a Remington.
"What?" Sam asks.
Jax shakes his head.
"You win," he says, "The Guy with the Most Crazy-ass family Award. You win hands down."
Sam grins but the smile doesn't make it to his eyes.
"Yeah well," and then he pumps the shotgun and blasts as Jonas reappears right beside the circle.
"Shit!" Jax winces as the gun booms right next to his ear. He makes eye contact with Sam and for just a moment he sees the deep-seated fear that you'd expect to see on the face of a ten year old in this predicament. And then Sam's game face slides back into place and Jax gets it.
Sam is naturally sensitive, caring and empathic and the only way he can cope with this is to shut his emotions off; to become ruthlessly efficient, detached and job-focused.
"I'm glad you're here, Jax," the kid says casually.
"Me too," Jax matches the casual tone and this time he's the one who pumps Jonas full of salt when he reappears.
Luka is shivering uncontrollably now and Jax figures it's sheer adrenalin keeping him on his feet. He takes the kid's elbow and lowers him into a sitting position, drapes another two grey blankets around his shoulders, puts Sam's discarded trash can lid in his left hand and an iron rod across his lap.
"This'll work on Jonas too," he says softly and the kid nods his understanding.
"You're gonna be okay," he adds and Luka nods trustingly.
Jax stands up again and he and Sam stand guard over Luka, shot guns at the ready as they wait for Jonas to reappear.
"So," Jax says, "How'd that pervy bastard manage to get the drop on you at the library?"
Sam looks a little embarrassed.
"I, ah, the entrance to this place? I'd figured out that the library used to be City Hall and I thought, you know…if I could find the entrance…."
"And did you?"
"Yeah. And then Jonas suddenly appeared and whacked me over the head with some massive hard back book," Sam pauses, "Is Dean okay?"
"Completely lost his shit when he realized you were missing."
Sam hangs his head miserably.
"And Dad? Did he blame Dean?"
"Yeah. No offense or anything but….your old man….he must be pretty hard to live with."
Sam snorts.
"No kidding. He's more like our drill sergeant than our father most of the time."
"He made Dean do two hundred push ups for losing you."
Sam ducks his head again.
"I got sit ups instead coz of my arm."
Sam sighs.
"Me and Dean…we're his sons. We have to jump through his crazy hoops. But you? You could've just told him where to get off."
Jax laughs.
"Tried that. It didn't go so well," Jax deepens his voice, "You join my army, you play by my rules. You disobeyed a direct order so now you're gonna do sit ups."
Sam snorts again. "God, he's such a marine! You could've still told him no."
Jax shrugs.
"Yeah, maybe. But he was threatening to tell Clay and let's just say your Dad isn't the only one with a stick up his ass about disobeying orders. Sit ups? Not as bad as what Clay would've done to me. Especially if your Dad let it slip about the ditching school and the gun shot wound."
Jax catches movement out of the corner of his eye but before he can react to it an extension lead has snaked down from the ceiling above the circle and wrapped itself around Sam's neck. Sam gasps and claws at his throat and Jax wedges his fingers in between the cord and Sam's neck, trying desperately to free him, but the cord is just too tightly wound.
Jax's eyes dart upwards as he traces out the way the extension lead managed to – quite literally – get the drop on them. Looks like it slithered its way in through the door way, up the wall and across the ceiling and there are no prizes for guessing who's controlling it. Sam's eyes are rolling in the back of his head now, his mouth working soundlessly as he clutches frantically at his neck.
You're mine, boy!" Jonas's voice whines from the other room, "I'm gonna split you in two; when I'm through with you, you're gonna wish you were dead!"
"Shut the fuck up," Jax yells in frustration, "Or at least get some new lines coz that's getting old!"
Sam's feet are stuttering towards the salt as he's jerked forwards by an unseen hand and Jax is getting desperate.
Priming his shot gun he leaps from the circle and runs to the door way, but Jonas has vanished by the time he gets there. Jax chokes off a curse as he realizes his mistake. He whirls just in time to see Jonas haul Sam out of the circle and he fires quickly, running full tilt at Sam as he does.
Jonas vanishes and Jax primes the weapon again, just in case. He drops to his knees by Sam's head and rapidly unwinds the cord. Sam is coughing and groaning and barely conscious, but he's struggling to sit up.
When his eyes suddenly widen, Jax knows the shit's about to hit the fan and he manages to half turn before Jonas's cold hands wrap around his throat. Sam's kneeling now, cradling his gun in both hands but he can't get off a clean shot with Jax in the way and he's still too fuzzy to stand up. Jax is struggling for all he's worth but he's starting to white out now and if Sam doesn't get his act into gear soon, Jax isn't sure he's going to make it.
And then Jonas howls in fury and everything changes.
X
The sum total of Jonas Montgomery's life that his aunt deemed worth keeping is pitifully small. There are just two boxes of his possessions in Laurie-Mae's attic and one of them is full of books. Dean opens the second box and sighs in relief.
He glances up at Clay and Tig standing, arms folded, by the doorway and nods at them. This looks much more hopeful. He pulls out a christening gown and bonnet and puts them on the floor; there could be hair fibers on the clothes so they're candidates for incineration.
There are a few more baby clothes and he adds them to the barbecue pile, and then tosses out a couple of Mathlete team trophies and Spelling Bee medals.
He hits pay dirt at the bottom of the box when he finds a powder blue Baby Keepsake Book and Box (or so it names itself on the front in a sickeningly ornate and overblown font.) Dean takes the lid off the box and is rewarded almost instantly with a small envelope containing half a dozen milk teeth.
"Yahtzee" he says and dumps the envelope on top of the christening gown.
"We're gonna need something to burn this shit in," he says to Clay.
The biker nods and hollers down the stairs for Gemma to find them a metal container.
After Laurie-Mae had showed them into the attic, Gemma had retreated back downstairs with her, figuring the woman may just lose her cool when they started to burn her late nephew's stuff.
"What do they want a metal container for?" Laurie-Mae asks sharply.
"I don't know, Hon," Gemma lies, as she raids her hostesses kitchen, "How about a cast iron casserole pot?" she yells up to Clay, "will that do?"
Dean nods and Clay yells back that it'll do just fine.
Gemma tries to persuade Laurie-Mae to wait for her, but the woman is suspicious now and she's not content to stay downstairs while Gemma takes the casserole pot up to the attic. She follows hard on her heels, just in time to see Dean pull a plastic pocket full of curly golden baby hair out of the Baby Book.
Gemma hands over the casserole pot and Dean dumps the hair, baby teeth and clothes into it and then, to Laurie-Mae's complete consternation, he sprinkles everything with a liberal dose of salt, before withdrawing a pewter hip flask from his jacket and pouring kerosene over everything.
"What the hell are you-" Laurie-Mae's query cuts off abruptly when Dean drags a cigarette lighter out of his jeans' pocket and sparks it up.
"NO!" Laurie-Mae howls, launching herself towards Dean, "NO! That's all I got left of my sister's beautiful little boy!"
It takes Gemma, Clay and Tig to restrain her and Dean feels kind of bad at the tears of anguish that wrack her body when he finally torches the last known remains of Jonas Montgomery.
"How do we know if it worked?" asks Tig as they watch the flames spark through blue to orange.
"We don't," Dean answers, "I mean, normally when we do a salt and burn the spirit's right there trying to stop us and we see it light up. I guess all we can do is go down to the fall out shelter and check in with Dad and Jax."
"Shit," Clay curses, "More of this wait and see bullshit," he sighs, "You know I've been thinking about getting a couple of those new cell phone things for the club. What d'you think Tig? Be handy wouldn't it if we could just call John up right now and find out what's going on?"
A cell phone. Huh. Dean likes that idea; he likes the idea of his Dad having a cell phone a lot. He's definitely going to suggest it to him.
They leave Laurie-Mae sobbing on her sofa and Tig grins broadly when Dean gets on to the back of his bike without complaint or hesitation.
"Hold tight Princess," Tig smirks and gives Dean's thigh a hearty slap, "Coz this time, ole Tig's gonna take you for a long, hard ride!"
X
Jonas howls in despair and steps away from Jax.
"NO!" he roars, stretching a hand out in front of him, "NO!"
And then he bursts into flames.
Sam slumps to the floor.
"It's over," he says.
"You okay?" Jax asks.
"Yeah."
"Then let's get outta here."
Sam nods and gets to his feet. Together then help Luka up and heads for the Church-side entrance, holding the injured ten year old up in between them.
"Can you do me a favor, Jax," Sam says, "and don't tell Dad about-"
"Don't tell Dad about what?" John Winchester asks.
"Dad!" Sam chokes, "You're…..here…."
"The door suddenly slid open so I figured," he shrugs, "lockdown over equals sonovabitch ganked. You boys okay?"
"Yessir," says Sam, "except Luka got stabbed, but it's not too bad."
The make it back out to the Impala in record time and John redresses Luka's wound using the field medic's kit in his trunk. Next he examines the bruises on his son's neck before turning to Jax and giving him a quick once over.
"Can I go home now?" Luka pleads from the back seat of the Impala where John had him resting while he attended to the other boys.
John climbs in beside him.
"Luka, you were very brave today," he begins and the kid sniffs, "Not as brave as Sam," he says admiringly.
"What do you think happened here today?" John asks.
"The bad man was a ghost," Luka says promptly, "he could walk through walls and everything. And every time Jax or Sam shot him with the salt he disappeared and then came back again."
"And what do you think will happen if you tell the police that? Or your Mom? Or the doctors at the hospital."
Luka is silent for a minute, then he sighs.
"They're gonna think I'm crazy. Or that I'm making stuff up."
"Right," John nods, "So even though it's the truth, we can't tell anyone that Jonas was a ghost. Do you understand?"
Luka nods.
"So we've gotta come up with an explanation for what happened here today," John continues, "One that everyone's gonna believe."
Luka nods thoughtfully.
"You know Jax's Mom Gemma? Well she's gonna come here soon with Clay and my oldest son Dean. And together, we're all gonna come up with an explanation that doesn't involve ghosts. Then we'll take you home. Okay? In the meantime, you just rest here."
Luka nods again.
John gets out of the car and goes around to where Sam and Jax are sitting on the hood.
"Report," he says.
Between the two of them Sam and Jax manage to give a fairly coherent account of everything that happened in the fallout shelter, from the moment Sam woke up in there to the moment that Jonas flamed into non existence.
John asks a question here and there and nods approvingly for the most part.
"And?" he prods, when the boys fall silent.
"And what, sir?" Sam asks innocently.
"Don't tell Dad, what?" John growls.
Sam takes a deep breath. He knows his Dad isn't going to let this go and he can't lie for shit to John Winchester; the man always sees right through him.
"In the library," he says, "I….sort of….um….went looking fortheentrancetothefallout shelter," he finishes the sentence in a rush.
"You did what?" John demands and there's a edge to his tone that Sam doesn't think bodes well for his immediate future.
"I wasn't going to go in," he hurries to assure his Dad, "I just….wanted to know….if it was where I thought it would be."
"And was it?" John enquires flatly.
Sam nods.
John stares at his youngest son for a minute and then puts a hand over his face.
"Sometimes you're too damn smart for your own good, Sammy," he says, and then everyone's attention is caught by the unmistakable roar of Harleys.
"We'll continue this discussion later," John tells Sam ominously, before turning away.
Sam looks as miserable as a whipped puppy so Jax gently nudges the kid's arm with his shoulder.
"I see push ups in someone's future," he whispers theatrically, trying to lighten things up a bit. It sort of works; Sam almost smiles.
Clay and Tig pull up a moment later and Jax is delighted to see Dean riding bitch with Tig; there's a month's worth of teasing material right there.
As soon as Tig's bike stops Dean is off and racing towards Sam. He pulls him into a fierce hug and if there are tears pooling in two sets of hazel eyes, Jax sure isn't going to mention it.
"You scared the hell out of me little brother," Dean says gruffly.
"Sorry," Sam says softly.
"Don't you ever disappear on me like that again, you hear me?"
"I'll try not to," Sam says with a hitch in his voice.
Dean reaches out a hand and grabs Jax's upper arm.
"Thank you," he says, "for looking out for him."
Jax nods.
"And Jax?"
"Yeah, Dean?"
"If you say anything about me riding bitch with Tig, I will end you."
