I sighed, shifted my position on the curb, and set the PSP down on the sidewalk next to me. Sam and Dean said I couldn't go in with them to question the family but didn't want to leave me in the relative privacy of the car, either. The compromise? I had to sit on the curb so they could see me if they looked out the window. It was mid-October. I'd been on lockdown for six weeks and I was really ready to be off it. It had been two weeks since we'd gone to Cedar Point for my birthday. I'd had a lot of fun and ridden rides with both guys. Even lockdown couldn't take away from that trip, and now I was thirteen. Dean kept making comments about how I was going to 'change' soon, which annoyed me probably more than it should have.
They'd gone on a couple of hunts after that and now they'd stumbled across a case that they had thought might be a werewolf. Some girl had been attacked and had her brain clawed open, but the visit to the coroner's office this morning, where of course I'd had to cool my heels in the waiting room, had revealed that the girl had done it to herself. So, now we were at the house where she'd been found after the parents of the kid who she'd been babysitting had gotten home.
The only good side of sitting on the curb in front of the house was that the windows were open and I could sometimes get little snippets of what was happening in the house. When Dean found the kid, whose name was Jimmy, and started talking to him, it must've been in a room close to the front of the house because I could hear him very clearly when he started trying to break the ice by talking about babysitters. Finally, he got down to asking the real questions.
"Did you see anything strange that night?" he asked.
Jimmy's voice was shaky and low. "No, sir."
Even I could tell he was lying, his tone gave him away. "You sure about that?" Dean asked.
"I would tell you if I knew something," Jimmy insisted, still lying. "I promise. One hundred percent. Cross my heart."
Dean didn't buy it either. "Well, Jimmy, I happen to know you're lying."
"I'm not," Jimmy promised.
Dean's voice got stern. "We gonna start talking truth, or are you and me gonna have to take a little trip downtown?" he asked. After that, Jimmy spilled his guts. He made Dean promise not to tell his parents and then told Dean that he'd put itching powder on the babysitter's hairbrush. He insisted that it was just a joke, that he hadn't thought it would make her do that to herself. Dean soothed him a little and then I couldn't hear him anymore. Not too long after, they came out of the house. As they came down the walk, Dean told Sam about the itching powder, and Sam said that there was no way itching powder caused it because it was just ground up maple seeds. I got to my feet when Dean responded that if Sam had any other theories, he was willing to hear them. Then Sam's phone rang. With a concerned expression, Sam said that we'd be right there and hung up. I got in the car.
Sam told Dean to go to the hospital. I pulled out my school books and started working on my assignment on the way to the hospital. When we got there, I trailed after Sam and Dean trying to make it look like I wasn't with them so that I didn't break their cover. If anyone stopped and asked me, I'd have to fess up, but over the last six weeks, I'd practically perfected the art of staying just far enough away but also close enough that I didn't get questioned. I leaned against the wall outside the room while they wheeled the body away in a body bag, relieved that I couldn't see it. Sam asked the coroner what happened, and he said that the guy had been electrocuted. The old guy in the room was the only witness and the coroner said that he wasn't making much sense. They went in to talk to them and the coroner walked away. I stayed where I was so I couldn't hear what the guys or the old guy said, but when they came out, Sam and Dean looked worried and confused. Dean had a silver disk with a button in the middle held carefully in his hand.
"What's that?" I asked as we walked down the hall.
"Joy buzzer," Dean said. I reached for it, and he jerked his hand away. "Don't touch it," he said. "It electrocuted that guy."
I dropped my hand. "Seriously? I thought that was just bull…" I trailed off when Sam looked at me.
"Seriously," Sam said. "And it is bull."
"We gotta test this," Dean said.
We hit the hardware store and the grocery store on the way back to the motel room. I managed to wheedle a Twix out of Dean, even though I wasn't supposed to have sugar. I took it as a good sign. When we got back to the room, I got out of the car to help them carry the stuff in.
"No, it's safer for you to stay in the car," Dean said when I shut the car door.
"I don't want to stay in the car," I complained, following them to the motel room. "I want to watch you electrocute the ham." His hand on the doorknob, Dean turned and looked at me. I sighed and headed back to the car to wait. At least I had my Twix.
I didn't have to wait long. Twenty minutes later they came out of the room. I leaned forward on my seat. "What happened? Did it cook the ham?"
"Yeah," Dean said. "Tastes pretty good, too."
"We're headed to the magic shop where the itching powder and the joy buzzer were bought," Sam explained. I sighed and leaned back in the seat.
"I hate magic," I muttered, my mind on the magic convention where I'd gotten in so much trouble last year.
"Put your seatbelt on," Dean said and started the car.
The name of the magic store was The Conjurarium. It was kinda small and filled with rows of shelves with a variety of supplies. Much of the decor was decked out to look old, like it was from Houdini's time. At the back of the shop was a checkout counter with a fake stage behind it, the sides covered in red velvet curtains. My eyes lit on the rubber chickens by the checkout counter first and I scowled. What the hell was the point of those? I split up from Sam and Dean, wandering around the outer edges of the store, looking for anything interesting. Card decks, trick money, and magic sets were in one section. Parlor tricks, tarot cards, and illusions were in another. There was even a section with items for escape tricks, which included handcuffs. Losing interest, I wandered over to the books, magazines, and DVDs, ignoring the pranks and gags, but I saw Dean pick up a whoopie cushion. I'd have to keep my eyes out for that thing over the next few days.
While I poked through the books, the owner of the shop came out of the back of the store onto the fake stage and welcomed us. I looked up long enough to notice his gray hair and rumpled appearance. His t-shirt had a magician and a tiger on his shirt. I went back to poking at the books.
Sam and Dean started asking him questions about the joy buzzer and the itching powder. He was grumpy and sarcastic, and when he started going off about kids messing up his store, I turned on my heel and stalked up to the front counter to stand next to Sam.
"These days," the owner was saying, "all they care about are their iPhones and those kissing-vampire movies."
"Maybe that's because magic crap sucks," I said under my breath, but Sam heard me and nudged me.
"The whole thing makes me just…" the owner was saying.
"Angry?" asked Dean.
The owner looked back at Dean. "Yeah. Yeah, I am angry. This shop has been my life for twenty years, and now it's wasting away to nothing."
"Maybe you should get a more grown-up hobby," I muttered, scowling. Sam looked down at me and frowned, but I looked back up at him with an innocent smile as Dean continued.
"Which is why you hate them," he said.
"I suppose," the owner said.
"I'm sure they just loooove you," I whispered. Sam put his hand on my shoulder hard, and I knew I should stop before I got myself in trouble.
Dean hadn't heard a word though. "You wish there was something you could do about it," he said.
"Yeah, I guess I do."
"So you're taking revenge," Dean wrapped up triumphantly. He pulled a rubber chicken off the hanger and smacked it down on the counter. "With this." Dean showed the owner the joy buzzer and brought it down on the rubber chicken. Electricity crackled and the owner shrieked, stumbling backwards. The chicken melted onto the counter and the owner tripped over the edge of his fake stage and fell onto his butt, wide-eyed and whimpering. I hid a smirk.
"Yeah, something tells me this guy is not a powerful witch," Sam said, letting go of my shoulder.
"Sorry. Sorry," Dean said, holding out a hand. The two of them turned to leave, but I lingered at the counter, letting my eyes rove from the top of his gray head. I looked down my nose at him.
"Jackhole," I said and turned on my heel to follow the guys.
As soon as I turned I realized that they had heard me. Dean looked annoyed, but Sam's jaw was twitching. When I reached them, Sam grabbed my upper arm and didn't let go all the way to the car.
"What?" I asked when Sam let me go so I could get in. "I didn't swear."
Dean looked at me over the top of the car, resting his hands on the roof. "You are pushing it, little girl. Your mouth is just asking for an appointment with the soap."
My mouth dropped open in protest. "Jackhole isn't a swearword!" I said.
"You don't know the half of it, Dean," Sam said, his eyes on me. "She was muttering under her breath the whole time we were talking with that guy." He looked at me. "What have I told you about being rude?" Sam ground out.
"He couldn't even hear me!" I objected. "If you're going to yell at me about stuff no one can hear, then maybe next time I should just come out and say it to the next person."
"You think he didn't hear you call him a jackhole?" Sam demanded.
"He is a jackhole, going on and on about how all kids are horrible and don't care about anything! What does he know?" I said. "He's like a million years old!"
Sam leaned down and looked me in the eyes. "You think you changed his mind?" he asked.
I flushed. "No…" I said after a second.
"You think you helped matters by calling him names after we scared the crap out of him?"
I sighed and dropped my eyes. "No," I said, subdued.
"If we hadn't just freaked that poor man out, I'd have you in there apologizing to him," Sam said.
"I'm sorry, Sam," I said.
"Get in the car," he replied. "You've got lines when we get back to the room." My head down, I obeyed.
We spent the rest of the day in the motel room. The guys worked on trying to figure out what was causing the prank toys gone bad while I worked on my schoolwork. When I was done, I started my lines. Dean called Bobby, but Bobby didn't have anything either. We had ham sandwiches for dinner and Dean let me watch Twilight on HBO, but he complained the whole time it was on.
At bedtime, I lit a fire to burn off my excess, not even bothering with fireballs any longer. I'd had no luck in the last couple of weeks and I figured that until I had some bright new flash of insight, it was probably useless to keep trying. Sam and Dean tucked me in, and I fell asleep easily to the sound of them typing and talking. I had no nightmares.
The next morning, they got a call about a new victim and dragged me down to the hospital at a god-awful early hour. Some guy had been attacked and all his teeth had been pulled out. They split up when we got there. Sam went in to talk to the guy and Dean went around the hospital to see if there were any other weird cases. I stayed with Sam, who told me to park it in the row of chairs opposite the room. I sat there and read for a good hour before Dean came back. When he saw Sam was still in the room, he kind of lingered in the hallway until a nurse noticed him and went over to talk to him. I rolled my eyes watching Dean sweet-talk the nurse.
I got to my feet when Sam came out. Sam told us that the guy gave him a description. His attacker was five foot ten, three hundred fifty pounds with wings and a pink tutu. He'd told Sam it was the tooth fairy. He'd gotten in past locked windows and doors without tripping an alarm. It even left thirty-two quarters under his pillow. Dean told him that there were a couple of kids upstairs with stomach ulcers from mixing Pop Rocks and Coke. Another guy's face "froze that way." When Sam asked what way, Dean put his fingers in his mouth and stretched it out so we could see his teeth and gums, and he crossed his eyes. I giggled. He said that the guy held it too long and it stuck. They were flying in a plastic surgeon.
They both turned and walked down the hallway. I followed after them. Dean said that when he was kid, he believed that sea monkeys, the way they are portrayed in the magazine ads, were real. Stopping, he turned to Sam and said that maybe the connection was that the incidents were all lies that kids believe. Sam said that whatever was doing this was reshaping reality, so it had the powers of a god or a trickster.
"Yeah, with the sense of humor of a nine-year-old," Dean said.
"Or you," Sam pointed out, smirking. Dean made a face and followed. I went a little more slowly, thinking. If this thing they were fighting was really powerful, maybe they'd need me. That made me happy. I hadn't gotten to help on a hunt in forever.
"Let's head back to the room so I can look through Dad's journal," Dean said when he started the car.
"I want to find out where these incidents are happening. Maybe there's a pattern, an area of effect," Sam said.
"Jessie, you wanna go with me or Sam?" Dean asked.
"Sam," I said after a second. "Please? I don't want to spend practically the entire day in the room again."
Sam snorted. "You just don't want to work on your schoolwork," he said.
"That's not the only reason," I objected. "I want to help!"
"Ok, ok," Dean said. "Go with Sam."
A couple hours later, we'd visited the police station and city hall. Sam walked me through finding the addresses of all the incidents and mapping them on the map. The incidents all occurred in a rough circle around a single house on four acres of farmland.
"You think whoever's in that house is doing this?" I asked Sam when we were done.
Folding up the map and sticking it in his pocket, he nodded. "It's a good bet," he said. "You wanna get some lunch?"
Dean was eating a ham sandwich when we got back to the motel room. Our room at the Liberty Motel was themed in faded red, white, and blue with American flags and a rustic feel. The walls were split in half with the top half painted blue and the bottom half planks of weathered white wood. A full-height, four foot-wide wall with an American flag made of wood on the top half jutted out into the room, separating the kitchenette and table from the beds, which were covered in blue and white striped bedspreads and flag pillows. My bed was shoved up against the half wall at the foot of Dean's bed. There was about a foot between my bed and his.
I threw myself on it, reaching under and pulling out my backpack while Sam explained to Dean what we'd found. Fishing out a romance novel I'd bought recently, I shoved the PSP inside, half listening to the two of them until Dean asked if the motel was in the two mile radius around the farm house. I slid into a sitting position and looked up.
"Yeah. Why?" Sam said.
Dean looked down at the table and slowly raised his right hand. I blinked and squinted, not sure I was seeing right. His palm was covered in hair. Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust, but I was just confused.
Sam groaned. "Dude," he said, looking away. "That's not what I think it is, is it?"
Dean looked a little embarrassed, glanced at me and dropped his voice, but I could still hear him. "I got bored. That nurse was hot." He smiled, all embarrassment vanishing. Someday I wanted to have his confidence.
"You know you can go blind from that, too," Sam said.
Dean looked chastened. "Give me five minutes. We'll go check out that house," he said, heading towards the bathroom.
"Hey, do not use my razor!" Sam called after him. Dean smirked and shut the bathroom door behind him.
I slid off the bed. "Sam?" I asked and glanced towards the bathroom. "What… what does that mean?"
Sam blushed and ran a hand through his hair. "Uh," he stuttered. "It's… uh…" Finally, he took a deep breath. "It's a lie they tell boys, when they, you know…"
I blinked at him and shook my head, and he turned even redder.
"When they masturbate," Sam said, seeming to force the word out. "To discourage it."
"Oh!" I exclaimed, dropping my head, my own face flaming.
"It's ok," Sam said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "It's normal for people to… do that."
"Ok," I said, wanting more than anything to end this conversation now. I didn't want to talk about this with Sam or Dean. I started to back up and Sam's hand fell off my shoulder. Dean came out of the bathroom still grinning then.
"Ok," he said. "Let's go."