"It was just a shortcut." Jess repeated, her voice trembling a little. "And the windows were rolled down, so we heard the screaming …"

She had recited the cover story so many times, she couldn't even remember what the truth was. All she could see was Dean twitching horribly in that electrified water, and the anguish on Sam's face as he tried desperately to wake his brother up.

Finally, the officers were satisfied, and she hurried towards Dean's hospital room, finding Sam almost clinging to the door frame.

"Well?" She asked, with more bravado than she felt. "What's the verdict?"

"Don't let Sam screw up my car." Dean told her, with a strange smirk.

Jess swallowed hard. "That's not funny."

"He's not joking." Sam said hoarsely. "He's … The doctor says he's got a month, tops."

For three days, the conversation chased itself around Jessica's head, as though somehow reliving the awful news would make it go away. She and Sam searched everywhere for a something that could cure heart failure, but to no avail.

Finally, on the third day, Jess asked something that had been bothering her for a while. "Don't you think you should call your dad?"

Sam sighed. "He won't pick up the phone."

"No, but he'll get the message." Jess pointed out. "It's not the nicest way to get the news, but he deserves to know."

"And when he doesn't come?" Sam muttered, but dialled his father's number anyway.

Jess left her laptop to sit beside him, taking his hand. Sam was taking his brother's predicament understandably hard, and every time he said it aloud, it only got harder.

"Hey, Dad." He said, as soon as the now-familiar message was out of the way. "It's Sam. Uh...you probably won't even get this, but, uh...it's Dean. He's sick, and uh...the doctors say there's nothing they can do." His voice broke, and she inched closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "Um...but, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? So, don't worry, cause I'm uh … gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. Alright … just wanted you to know."

He hung up, tossing the phone on to the bed, and buried his face in his hands. Jess said nothing, swallowing back tears of grief and helplessness.

There was nothing she could say that would ease the pain he was feeling, but, oh, how she wished there was.

Someone knocked at the door to the motel room, and Jess squeezed Sam's shoulder before going to answer it.

It wasn't particularly that she had any expectations about who she would find outside, but she definitely wasn't expecting Dean to be there, leaning heavily on the door frame. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I checked myself out." Dean answered, his voice still horribly weak.

"Are you crazy?" Sam asked, standing up from the bed.

"Well, I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot." Dean said, using the wall to help him walk inside.

"You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing?" Jess asked, slipping under his arm, more to support him than to hug him (although the latter was still a factor). "It's crap. We can see right through it."

"Yeah, whatever." Dean said dismissively. "Have you even slept? You two look worse than me."

"We've been scouring the internet for the last three days." Jess explained, helping him to a chair.

"Calling every contact in Dad's journal." Sam added.

"For what?" Dean asked.

"For a way to help you." Sam answered, rolling his eyes. "One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska, a specialist."

Jess sighed. "Sam, we talked about this. Don't get your hopes up."

Sam shot her a warning look, and she dropped the argument. They both knew that Dean would never willingly go to a faith healer, and it was worth a shot, however much she worried that Sam was desperate enough to believe anything right now.

Dean sighed. "You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you?"

Sam smiled, the first smile she had seen since the doctor gave them the news. "I'm not gonna let you die, period. We're going."

Reverend Roy LeGrange was everything Jess expected with one small exception – it actually seemed to work. Despite Dean's scepticism, he had been pulled from the congregation, and Jess and Sam had watched with bated breath as the healer laid his hands on Dean, who had slowly passed out.

When he came to, he was a bit groggy and seemed preoccupied with an empty space behind them, but his colour was far better than it had been since the accident.

Nevertheless, the first thing they did the next day was go to the local hospital to get Dean checked out. While they waited for the doctor to return with the test results, Sam paced the length of the hospital room, watching Dean in concern.

"So, you really feel okay?"

"I feel fine, Sam." Dean muttered.

"You don't sound fine." Jess said gently.

Dean opened his mouth, but was prevented from explaining by the doctor, who walked in reading over the test results. "Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was."

Sam and Jess both breathed a sigh of relief, but the doctor wasn't finished. "Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still it's strange it does happen."

Dean perked up, like a dog on the trail of a rabbit. "What do you mean, strange?"

The doctor shrugged. "Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, Doc."

"No problem." The doctor responded, leaving them alone.

Dean frowned. "That's odd."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it's a coincidence. People's hearts give out all the time, man."

"No, they don't." Dean said darkly.

Jess sighed. "Dean, have you ever heard the phrase 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth'? Can't we just be thankful that you were saved and move on?"

"Because I can't shake this feeling." Dean said.

"What feeling?" Sam asked.

"When I was healed," Dean said quietly, "I just … I felt wrong. I felt cold. And for a second … I saw someone … this old man. And I swear, Sam, it was a spirit of some kind."

"But if there was something there, Dean, I would have seen it too." Sam pointed out. "I mean, I have been seeing an awful lot of things lately."

Dean snorted. "Well, excuse me, psychic wonder. It's not just me. Is it Jess?"

"I'm just happy you're alright." Jess said, avoiding his gaze.

"But you don't believe it was an act of God any more than I do." Dean said knowingly.

Jess sighed. "Honestly? No. And I consider myself religious so …"

"So if you think there's something wrong," Dean said, looking at Sam. "You're outnumbered, Sammy. I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling like this."

"Alright." Sam agreed wearily. "What do you wanna do?"

"I want you to check out the heart attack guy." Dean answered. "I'm gonna visit the reverend."

"I'll come with you." Jess said. "I think this is going to need a subtle hand."

After having tea with the reverend and his wife, Sue-Ann, and learning that Roy had discovered his ability to heal after miraculously recovering from cancer, Dean and Jess left their house to encounter Layla Rourke, a young woman they had met at the service the day before.

She looked tired, but greeted Dean with a smile. "Dean, hey. How you feeling?"

"I feel good." Dean answered. "Cured, I guess. What are you doing here?"

Layla gestured to the woman standing behind her, glaring at Dean. "You know, my mom she wanted to talk to the reverend."

The front door opened, and Sue-Ann stepped out on to the porch. "Layla?"

Layla sighed. "Yes, I'm here again."

Sue-Ann shook her head. "Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now."

"Sue-Ann, please." Layla's mother pleaded. "This is our sixth time; he's got to see us!"

"Roy is well aware of Layla's situation." Sue-Ann said firmly. "And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs Rourke."

Mrs Rourke turned on Dean as the front door closed again. "Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted."

"Mom, stop." Layla said softly.

"No, Layla, this is too much!" Her mother said sharply. "We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder."

Dean frowned. "Layla, what's wrong?"

Layla sighed. "I have this thing..."

"It's a brain tumour." Mrs Rourke said. "It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say …" She cut herself off, her daughter's hand resting on her shoulder.

Dean swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

Layla shook her head. "It's okay."

"No. It isn't." Mrs Rourke said softly. She turned to Dean, her eyes narrowed. "Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?"

"Hang on a second." Jess cut in, indignant fury rising within her. "I'm sorry for what you're going through, I really do – but why does your daughter deserve to live more than my brother?"

"I'd tend to agree with her more than you, kiddo." Dean said, taking hold of her arm and leading her down the steps, away from the house. "Way to be subtle."

Jess rolled her eyes, still seething inside. "Shut up."

When they got back to the motel room, Sam was waiting for them, and it was clear as soon as they saw him that it wasn't good news. He was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, his head bowed as though in prayer.

"What'd you find out?" Dean asked.

"I'm sorry." Sam said, so quietly that they almost didn't hear him.

"Sorry about what?" Dean asked, tossing his jacket on to one of the beds.

Sam looked up, a haunted expression in his eyes. "Mashall Hall died at 4:17. The clock froze."

"That's the exact time Dean was healed." Jess said in a hushed voice.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, so I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed over the past year and cross-checked them with the local obits. Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time."

Dean frowned. "Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?"

Sam nodded. "Somehow, LeGrange … he's trading a life for another."

Dean looked slightly ill. "Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?"

"Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway." Sam said hastily. "And someone else would've been healed."

Dean shook his head. "You never should've brought me here."

Sam sighed. "Dean, I was just trying to save your life."

"But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me!" Dean argued.

"And that's terrible." Jess said. "But we didn't know, Dean. The thing I don't understand is how is Roy trading a life for a life?"

"Oh, he's not doing it." Dean said darkly. "Something else is doing it for him."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed. "The old man I saw on stage … I didn't wanna believe it, but deep down, I knew …"

"Knew what?" Sam prompted. "What are you talking about?"

"There's only one thing that can give and take life like that." Dean said grimly. "We're dealing with a reaper."

"The Grim Reaper?" Jess asked, startled. "Angel of death, collect your soul, so and on so forth?"

"Not the reaper, a reaper." Dean corrected. "There's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth; hundred different names. It's possible there's more than one."

Sam's brow creased in confusion. "You said you saw a dude in a suit."

"What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?" Dean asked sardonically. "You said it yourself that the clock stopped – reapers stop time. And you can only see them when they're coming at you, which is why I could see it and you couldn't."

"But how is Roy controlling it?" Jess asked.

"That cross?" Sam murmured.

"What?" Dean asked.

"There was this cross," Sam elaborated. "I noticed it in the church, and I knew I'd seen it before …" He began rifling through some of the papers he'd been looking through before they came in, finally holding up a card. "Here."

"A Tarot?" Jess asked sceptically.

"It makes sense." Sam insisted. "Tarot dates back to the early Christian era, when some priests were still using magic. A few of them veered into the dark stuff – necromancy, how to push death away, how to cause it …"

"So Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?" Dean asked.

"If he is, he's riding the whirlwind." Sam said. "It's like putting a dog leash on a great white."

Dean shrugged. "Okay, then we stop Roy."

"How?" Jess asked pointedly.

"Dean, I know what you're thinking …" Sam began.

"Sam, the guy's playing God; deciding who lives and who dies!" Dean argued. "That's a monster in my book!"

"We're not killing a human being, Dean." Sam said firmly. "We do that, we're no better than he is."

"Exactly." Jess agreed.

Dean sighed. "Okay, we can't kill Roy, we can't kill the reaper. Any bright ideas, college kids?"

"Well, if Roy's using some kind of spell, we've gotta figure out what it is." Sam answered. "And how to break it."

During the next service, Sam and Jess went to search Roy's house, while Dean went to stop the next healing session, which turned out to be Layla's. He managed to save the reaper's next target, a man protesting that Roy was a fraud, but discovered that Roy wasn't using a spell at all.

His wife was.

"So Roy really believes." Sam concluded, back at the motel.

"I don't think he has any idea what his wife's doing." Dean agreed.

"Well," Jess said, pulling a small book from inside her jacket, "we found this hidden in their library. It's ancient, written by a priest who went dark side. There's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper."

"Must be a hell of a spell." Dean muttered.

Sam nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you gotta build a black altar with seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that – a preacher's wife. Black magic. Murder. Evil."

"Desperate." Jess finished. "Her husband was dying, she didn't have any way of saving him. She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy."

"Cheating death." Sam said. "Literally.

Dean frowned. "But Roys' alive, so why is she still using the spell?"

"To force the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral." Sam answered. "Marshall was gay; the woman who died yesterday instead of a lung cancer patient was a pro-choice lobbyist."

"The protester's an atheist." Dean finished.

"May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work." Jess said bitterly.

Sam squeezed her hand. "You alright?"

Jess smiled weakly. "I'm fine. Hungry though."

"Me too." Dean agreed. "I feel like I haven't eaten since that damn heart attack."

"You've been eating healthily." Jess said, her smile growing a little.

"Exactly." Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll go and get us something to eat. At least then I can sneak something healthy in for him."

"I heard that."

"Well, I said it loud." Sam dropped a kiss on Jess's head, grabbed his jacket, and left the motel room.

Dean leaned back against the headboard with a sigh, watching Jess straighten the papers on the desk. "You know anyone like that?" He asked, after a few minutes of silence.

"Like what?" Jess asked.

"Half the people who think they're doing God's work." Dean elaborated.

"Not really." Jess answered. "I mean, the town I grew up in was a bit … conservative. Mom didn't think like them, that's why she taught me how to be a Catholic rather than sending me to Sunday School. She took the whole bisexual thing really badly, not because she didn't approve, but because she thought I'd have an easier time of it if I pretended otherwise." She snorted, shaking her head. "Like I cared what those stuck-up idiots thought of me."

"Atta girl." Dean said with a grin. He tilted his head, observing her closely. "You called me your brother earlier."

"I did." Jess agreed. "And you are. Well, you're as close as I've got." Her words caught up with her and she froze, turning to face him. "Did you already know? That I was … y'know?"

Dean shook his head. "No, but we see such crap every day … whatever makes you happy. Love is love as far as I'm concerned. When'd you realise?"

"High school." Jess answered with a smile. "I dated this girl, Amelia, for two years."

"Why'd you break up?" Dean asked.

"College." Jess said, shrugging. "Plus, she … I don't think she'd ever really come to terms with the fact that she was bi. We both knew long-distance wouldn't work, so we broke it off. And then I went to Stanford, met Sam and … here we are."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Was she hot?"

Jess grinned. "Oh yeah."

Dean chuckled. "Do me a favour, kiddo; never break things off with Sammy."

"Wasn't planning on it." Jess said, confused. "Why?"

Dean smirked. "You'd be terrible competition."

"You will, won't you?" Jess asked, closing the motel room door behind her.

"Will what?" Dean responded, looking tired.

"Pray for her." Jess elaborated. "We take that kind of promise seriously."

"I will." Dean assured her.

Jess nodded, walking over to look out of the window. They were almost ready to put Nebraska behind them. Once freed, the reaper had finished their work for them by killing Sue-Ann, although the congregation believed it was a stroke.

She almost felt sorry for Roy, suddenly losing powers he'd never really had. She definitely felt sorry for Layla, who had come so close to being cured and living a full life.

"How do you do it?" Dean asked suddenly.

Jess didn't look round. "Do what?"

"Have faith." Dean said. "How do you have faith? You've read the journal, there's no such thing as angels, there's no such thing as God – we don't even know if there's a Hell!"

"The journal's not the be all and end all, Dean." Jess said, resting her forehead against the window pane. "Believe it or not, your dad can be wrong. Pagan gods exist when most people think they're myths, why can't God exist?"

"But how do you have faith?" Dean repeated. "How can you see what we've seen and have faith?"

"Because I have no other choice." Jess answered, finally turning to look at him. "Because evil exists. Real, terrible evil exists, and I have to believe that there's something out there to counter that, you know? Or I'd go mad."

"I couldn't." Dean said lowly. "People like Layla … she's got her whole life ahead of her, probably never put a foot wrong in her life, and she's dying in six months, and I get saved. Why me?"

"Because you're a good man." Jess answered. "I can't speak for other people, Dean, and especially not for other deities. When I was younger, I used to ask Mom why awful things happened to people, and she said, "Jessie, we are all God's children because he created us, but then he created every other creature on Earth as well." No one ever begins to demand explanations when animals get sick, do they?"

Dean chuckled. "No, I suppose not."

"Maybe there's a God. Maybe there isn't." Jess said gently. "Maybe Layla will make a miraculous recovery. Maybe she won't. Maybe if you hadn't been electrocuted, she'd have been cured. But then if you hadn't been electrocuted, those two children would probably be dead, and Sue-Ann would still be playing God with a reaper."

Dean sighed. "Damn, I hate it when you make sense."