Jess had given herself a specific amount of time where she was allowed to freak out. When that passed, she sat up, wiped her eyes, and got to work on finding Sam. She still felt hollow, like someone had taken an ice cream scoop and emptied all of her insides, leaving a gaping bloody mess in its place. But she had to work past that. She and Dean were the only people capable of getting Sam back, and they had to be at their best. Every second counted.

Jess continued to work the weather-pattern angle while Dean tracked down the truck that had taken Sam. Jess found satellite images that matched the ones her father had recorded, and Dean, with a combination of fast lies and shamelessness for waking people up at 3 am, had managed to get ahold of the GPS track for the truck.

It was holding steady about half an hour outside of town, so they had immediately packed up and shipped out.

Jess drained her fifth cup of coffee and turned to watch Dean in the driver's seat. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was gripping the steering wheel so tight she was scared he would snap it.

"We'll find him, Dean," she reassured.

Dean clenched his jaw tighter and nodded.

"Look, he's still bouncing in and out of consciousness, but he's not in any pain," she shared.

"You still have no idea where he is?" Dean asked hoarsely.

"It doesn't work that way," she replied, carefully keeping the heat out of her response. Dean knew that just as well as she did, but he deserved to be cut a little slack. "The tracker says it's right up here," Jess directed, pointing ahead to a gravel turnout.

Dean pulled the Impala to the side and checked the gun he had stowed in his waistband. Guns made Dean feel more in control, so Jess didn't question the wisdom of bringing it to a demon fight. She merely grabbed the flasks of holy water by her feet and handed Dean one.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Yeah. Stay behind me, okay?"

Jess gritted her teeth, but obeyed, responding to Dean's superior experience.

They exited the car quietly, moving softly but quickly. There were no other vehicles visible, but a thick cluster of trees far off offered a great hiding spot. Maybe they had pulled the truck in there for coverage.

"Wait." Dean threw up an arm, and Jess stopped obediently. He crouched down to the ground and picked up a small plastic box with wires sticking out of it.

"Shit," he pronounced, dropping the box to the floor. "Shit!" he whipped out the gun and fired three shots at the object. Plastic flew into the air in scattered bits. "Son of a bitch! Shit!"

"Dean…"

"That was the damn GPS box, Jess," Dean shouted. He kicked at the remaining pieces. "They ripped the thing out. Now we have no clue where Sam is."

Damn.

Jess collected the scraps of her confidence and fit them back together as best she could. "Look, Dean, this isn't the end of the line for us, okay? Yeah, maybe it's not going to be as straightforward as we thought, but we still have leads."

"What do we have, Jess?" Dean asked wearily.

"Well, we know Sam's still in the truck. Why would they bother to remove the GPS if they're going to ditch it? And we know the types of weather patterns this thing makes when it goes somewhere. We just need to pull up a satellite weather image and we can find it."

"It's a demon, there's no way we can run after it in the Impala."

"Normally, yes," she persisted. "But it's got Sam with it. It's using the truck. As long as we can track the weather, we can track the truck."

Dean's eyes widened as he understood. "Jess, that might actually work," he acknowledged.

"Glad to see you have such confidence in me," she rolled her eyes. "I promise we'll get Sam back, Dean. You and me together."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

They scouted around the area for a while longer, making sure they didn't miss anything, before they drove back to the motel to pack up.

As they cleared out the room, they talked out their plan of action.

"The only challenge is keeping track of the truck while we're driving," Jess admitted, folding shirts and jamming them into bags. She tried not to dwell on the ones that were Sam's. "We won't be able to get fresh images off the internet while we're on the highway. Stopping every couple hours to get an update will waste a lot of time, but so will driving in the wrong direction if we don't get the proper intel."

"How about we get someone to look that up for us?" Dean suggested. "Someone not on the road and with a stable internet connection."

"You think Bobby could do it?" Jess guessed.

"I was actually thinking about your brother, Jess."

"No," Jess snapped. "Not happening, Dean."

"Jess, he's desperate to help in any way," Dean argued. "And I'm totally with you on not taking him on the road, but this is a contribution that's perfectly safe but a hell of a lot useful."

"He's staying out of this whole business," Jess insisted.

"He's already in it, whether you like it or not," Dean retorted. "He knows how to shoot and is decent with a knife. He's learning Latin from Bobby and can already research pretty much anything you need."

"Bobby's teaching him all that?"

"I did a bit, too."

"Dean! You shouldn't have brought him into all this. You know what can happen! Did you even think of the danger?"

Dean didn't respond. He frowned down at his feet and rubbed a hand across his torso.

"What?" Jess demanded. "You're just going to ignore what I said?"

"Jess…" Dean cocked his head to the side and stared at her with uncomfortable intensity. "Are you feeling scared for Dylan?"

"Of course I am!" she shouted. "It's dangerous, Dean. I don't want him to be a part of this."

"I think… I felt that," Dean confessed.

"What do you mean?" Jess demanded.

"Well, when you started talking about Dylan, I got this weird feeling…" Dean rubbed his stomach again. "Like I was afraid of something, but what would I be afraid of?"

Jess swallowed thickly. "You… you think I'm transmitting my own emotions onto other people?"

"Well, I was thinking about what happened with Max, and the theory sort of fits what you did to him. Sort of a sudden attack of how scared and angry you were feeling at the time."

"I did that to you?" she worried.

"Not as strong," Dean shook his head. "But enough to screw with me. Man, does it feel that way for you when you pick up on someone?"

"I don't know," Jess shook her head. "I don't know what happened."

Feeling other's emotions was one thing, but Dean's idea brought her abilities to a whole new level. She had seen how her attack had hurt Max. The possibilities made her gut churn.

"Look, we can't dwell on this now," Jess shook her head. "We need to get going. I'll just… be careful from now on."

"Right." Dean was still examining her closely with his eyes, and Jess couldn't help squirming.

"I'll be okay," she insisted. Then added, as an afterthought: "You will be too."

"Thanks."

"Let's just finish packing up, okay?"

"What about Dylan?" Dean persisted.

"Dean…"

"Jess, he'll be perfectly safe at Bobby's. And he would do a good job."

And he was their best bet. Bobby couldn't possibly be at their beck and call the whole time.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll call and talk to him."

She stepped out of the room to do so. They had passed through the night, and it was now early in the morning, even earlier in South Dakota, but she did manage to wake Dylan up enough to explain the situation and have him agree to the job. She would have liked to talk to him for just a bit longer, but she noticed a man exit the office and start walking towards her room, and she hung up quickly so she could casually keep an eye on him.

She squinted in the sun to get a better glimpse of him, and when he lifted his head, she recognized him instantly.

It was John Winchester. Finally present in the flesh, after all these months.

She stared at him with a gaping mouth as he approached their motel room. He stared right back at her with a look that made her shrink into the sidewalk.

He flicked his eyes between her and the door, and when he was right in front of her, she jumped to be the first to speak.

"How did you find us?"

He frowned. "You are…?"

"Jessica," she replied shortly.

John's frown deepened. "I thought I told you to stay away from my sons," he growled.

"I didn't listen," she replied. "How did you know where we are?"

"None of your damn business. Where's Dean? In the room?"

Jess scoffed. "Like I'm going to tell you that. You may look like John Winchester, but you could be anything. How did you find this room?"

John scowled. "Tell me where my son is!"

"Dad!"

Jess whipped around to see Dean standing in the doorway of their room.

John's angry look softened. "Dean."

"You came," Dean remarked, his jaw relaxing for the first time in hours.

"It's Sammy," John replied gruffly. "Of course I came."

"Okay," Dean replied. "Look, come inside and we'll tell you everything that happened."

"You called him?" Jess guessed as they stepping into the room.

"Yeah. We need all the help we can get, Jess." Dean pulled out a flask of holy water and handed it to his father. "You mind?" he asked.

John took it quizzically. "What, you taking a page out of Bobby's book now?" He took a long pull without any negative reaction.

"Just being safe," Dean shrugged. "No sense in taking stupid risks. We've even got constant protection." He lifted the anti-possession out of the collar of his shirt to show it to his father.

"Yet you're still letting this girl tag along with you?" John criticized. "I thought I told you she wasn't safe to be around."

Dean stuck his jaw out. "Dad, she's helped us out so much. She loves Sam, and Sam loves her. Trust me, we'd be a lot less safe if she wasn't with us."

"You don't know everything about her, Dean," John retorted. "You don't know what she's got inside of her."

"You're talking about the demon blood?" Jess spoke up. It didn't surprise her that John had figured out for himself what they had discovered.

John froze in his place, and then slowly swiveled around to meet her in the eye.

"Yeah. That's what I'm talking about."

"Sam has that, too," she told the man. "You must know that."

John dropped his head. "It's different with Sammy," he replied. "I know him; he's a good kid."

"And I know Jess," Dean insisted. "We're not leaving her behind."

"I'll just follow you," Jess shrugged. "You think I'm going to give up while my fiancé is missing?"

"Fiance?" John choked.

"We got engaged right before he went missing," she shared.

For the first time since she met him, John actually looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry," he told her.

"It happened," she brushed off. "Anyway, we need to get on the road as soon as possible. Sam's still alive and unharmed, but we can't push our luck. We need to find him."

"How are you planning on doing that?" John asked.

"The demon's using a semi to transport Sam," Dean explained. "Jess figures that if we keep an eye on the weather patterns we can track it."

"You guys pull up satellite images?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, let's see them."

"The work is good. We don't have time to go over it with you," Jess refused.

"You have time if I say you do," he shot back.

"Those demons have hours on us," Jess replied, trying to keep her boiling temper under control. "We needed to be on the road literally yesterday. I'll give you a copy of our map to look over on the way, but I'm leaving here as soon as possible. Sam can't wait any longer."

John frowned. "Engaged to Sam or not, you are not the essential person in this operation."

"Dad," Dean interjected. "We need her."

"Why?" John demanded. "What does she have that we don't, Dean?"

Dean glanced over at Jess, but she remained silent, chin stuck stubbornly out. Right now, John Winchester was the last man on earth that she wanted to tell about her psychic abilities.

"That's not for me to tell," Dean responded. "Just trust me on this."

John gave his son a stony glare. "Fine," he announced. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt here, Dean. I'm trusting you know what to do with it."

"It won't be wasted, I promise."

John nodded finally, putting the two of them at ease.

"All right. You too go ahead in the Impala. I'll follow in my truck."

Sam had spent hours flickering between consciousness and unconsciousness. The rocking of the truck sometimes felt like it was bringing him to sleep, and other times jarred him awake. He tried to ignore the poisonous tube connected to his arm. The restraints were too strong for him to break, and no amount of wiggling would loosen them. He was completely stuck for the time being. Once, he was visited by two new demons, not the yellow-eyed one, and was untied briefly and given a bucket to do his business in. He had no hope of overpowering two demons without any weapons, and was tied up again within minutes and hooked up to a fresh bag of poison. They hadn't given him any food or water.

Eventually, the truck pulled to a stop and the noise of the road dimmed out. The door at the back of the trailer opened and Sam squinted as the space flooded with hot sunlight briefly before the door slammed shut again. Sunspots danced in his eyes as he strained to make out the new arrivals.

The yellow-eyed demon was back, and a small girl was with him, about ten years old. She wore a neat white dress, and her dark hair was done in perfect ringlets. The innocent juvenile effect was negated by her stone-cold face and dead eyes.

"I think our goose is almost cooked," the yellow-eyed demon announced. "He'll be ready to perform soon."

The girl leaned over Sam's bed to give him a look of cold calculation. "He doesn't look like much, Azazel," she reported with boredom.

The demon, Azazel, flinched. "You know better than to use my name, Lilith."

She merely rolled her eyes. "You worry too much. He'll be dead shortly, what's the use of being careful?"

Azazel gnawed on his bottom lip, and Lilith frowned.

"You are still killing him, Azazel. You've got dozens more just like him. I told you, his use is purely to show me what they all are capable of."

"You don't give me orders on which of my children to kill," Azazel snapped. "I know he is to die, that was always part of the plan."

"Fine. Now, you promised me a show. Let's see it."

"We've got a lamb coming to the slaughter in a minute. First, though…" Azazel reached underneath Sam's bed, grabbed a lever of some kind, and hoisted the whole thing vertically. The cot latched into place, leaving Sam in a vertical position.

"Whatever it is you want me to do, I won't do it," Sam spoke up. "You might as well kill me first."

"Sammy, we're just helping you reach your full potential," Azazel purred. "You've had the abilities since I visited you all those years ago."

"You mean the visions?"

The demon chuckled. "There's so much more to it than that, boy. Just you wait until you see what you're capable of."

The door opened yet again, and three people entered. One girl with short blonde hair and a man with a thick beard stood on either side of a writhing, skinny twenty year-old man with a gag bound tightly across his mouth. The prisoner's eyes flashed black as he was chained to the wall closest to Sam. The guards stepped back when the demon was contained and exited the truck.

"Now, Sam," Azazel instructed. "You're going to show Lilith here how you can get rid of this demon."

"You're kidding, right?" Sam blinked. "You want me to exorcise a demon for you?"

"You start speaking an exorcism, I'll tear your tongue out before you've said the first word," Lilith spoke. "You're gonna kill this miserable, greasy, bottom-dwelling excuse for a demon with these so-called amazing powers you possess."

"You mean… my visions?"

"Oh, it's much more than that, Sammy. You have the ability to take charge of an entire demon army. It's hidden away in your blood. But how are you going to be a general if you can't discipline the troops?" Azazel grinned.

"You're just going to kill me after all this is done," Sam reminded the pair.

"Would kind of throw the whole plan off schedule if we let one of you walk around fully trained," Azazel admitted. "I can't risk you going off to war prematurely."

"Well, then, I'm not going to play along with your little plan," Sam announced. "What's the point? If you're going to kill me anyway, I'd rather die with my soul intact." There was still a chance that Dean and Jess would find him. But what was the use of being rescued if he let himself become some sort of demon tool? His integrity meant more than that.

"Ha!" Azazel barked. "Like you even have a chance at that. But that's not the point. I know you're going to play along with this plan perfectly. You know why that is?"

Sam stared at Azazel silently, but the demon carried on, unperturbed.

"Do you know how easy it would be to collect you little girlfriend, Sam? All we'd have to do is stop driving and sit around for a few hours. She'd find us with that brother of yours, and I'll tell you what we'd do then: We kill your brother, and take Jessica and tie her up right in the same spot you are now. We give her the same deal you've been given and see if she's cooperative enough to follow instructions. And you, well, you're dead. But we make sure Jess knows that she could have avoided this whole thing if you'd only been a little more cooperative. What do you say, Sammy? Want to give that a try?"

The fact that they would kill Dean if they got the chance was nothing new. That would happen regardless of what he did. It really came down to a choice between himself and Jess. If he played along, Jess had a chance of being safe.

"What do I need to do?"

Azazel smirked. "You take a look at that demon, Sam. You search inside yourself and find that ability that I know you have. And you reach into the demon and you squeeze the power out of it."

Sam looked at the demon tied to the wall. It was straining against the gag, and its face was a bright red, sweat slick along its neck.

"Okay," Sam agreed.

And he reached.