Happy New Year everyone!

So here we are, once again. I feel I should give some more background as to the reason behind the frequent long gaps between chapters, as the general opinion seems to be that all fanfic authors have hours of free time in which to write:

I am 26 years old and I work 9-5 at a finance company. At present I have five works in progress that demand immediate attention and a number of others that are currently on hiatus until I have time to write them. I also have an original work that I hope to finish and publish. If I get writers' block in my free time, I'm probably not writing that day. Couple this with the aforementioned anxiety, and you can begin to see the issue.

At any rate, I seem to be doing better at the moment - long may it continue!

The disappearance of the Colt turned out to be the least of Jess's worries – the demon had disappeared; Dean and Sam had not.

And Dean and Sam were not coping with John's death in the slightest.

If she was being honest, Jess was more concerned about Dean than Sam.

Sam – while not talking about it – was at least talking in the first place, whereas Dean was spending his days out with the Impala, barely speaking a word.

For the first few weeks, Jess left him to it, spending her days in Bobby's library, devouring every book of lore she could get her hands on.

Since the return from the hospital, Jess and Bobby hadn't discussed her theory that there was something supernatural about John's death, and she didn't dare mention it to either of the boys, not when they weren't dealing with it in the first place.

Sam recovered first – if recovery meant developing a desperate need for revenge, which was partly how they ended up in a borrowed car outside a deserted bar.

"You're sure this is the place?" Jess asked.

"This is where the phone number led to," Sam confirmed.

Jess flicked through John's journal once again, but she knew it was pointless. Whoever 'Ellen' was, she was never mentioned.

Jess thought she had found a mention fairly early on, but it looked like the next few pages had been ripped out, so that was that.

Whoever she was, Dean looked more animated than he had since the incident, and he was talking again – even if talking meant complaining about the minivan they'd borrowed from Bobby.

"Did you ask Bobby about her?" Jess asked, squinting at the sign outside the bar. She thought it said 'Harvelle'.

The two exchanged a sheepish look that she took as a no.

"Honestly," she muttered, digging her phone out.

"You do that; we'll go and look around," Dean said, opening the door.

"Alright, be careful," Jess said, already dialling.

"What do you need, Jess?"

"Hey, Bobby, does the name Harvelle mean anything to you?" Jess asked.

"Sure – Bill Harvelle was an old hunting buddy – went on a few hunts with John. His wife, Ellen, watched the boys a few times."

"Ellen left a voicemail for John," Jess explained. "Sounded like she could help with the demon. The boys wanted to check it out."

"Well, ain't that a turn-up?" Bobby asked. "Ellen runs the Roadhouse – kinda like a halfway house for hunters, and she can handle herself, but she never hunted. Especially not after Bill died and having a little one."

The 'not like John' went unsaid.

"Okay, thanks Bobby," Jess said. "See you later."

The boys hadn't re-emerged, so she got out of the car, and headed over to the bar.

Inside, it was fairly dim, and there was a young man asleep on the bar.

Just past him, Dean and Sam seemed to be in some kind of stand-off with two women.

"Honestly, I can't leave you two alone for a moment," Jess said, rolling her eyes. "I assume you introduced yourself?"

"Not exactly," the younger woman said, glaring at Dean, who still had a shotgun aimed at her. "And you are?"

"Jessica Moore," Jess said. "Those two are Dean and Sam …"

"Winchester," the older woman finished, a look of realisation crossing her face as she lowered her gun. "John's boys?"

"Mom, you know them?" the younger woman asked.

"John Winchester hunted with your dad a few times," Ellen explained.

"We got your message," Jess said, striding forwards and taking the gun out of Dean's hands. "I assume this is yours," she added to the younger woman. "Because it isn't one of ours."

"Yeah, it's mine," she said, taking it with a smile. "I'm Jo."

"Nice to meet you," Jess said. "Thanks for not punching Dean."

"Oh, believe me, I'm still tempted," Jo muttered.

"Yeah, a lot of people get that," Jess said.
"Look," Dean interrupted, "you called Dad, said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, obviously," Ellen said, rolling her eyes. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"How'd you even know about the demon?" Dean asked. "What, is there a Demon Hunters Quarterly I missed?"

"Dean, must you alienate everyone that wants to help?" Jess asked with a sigh. "Bobby said this place is like a halfway house for hunters – you probably should have told him where we were going."

"How do they get anything done?" Jo asked her.

"Believe me, they are amazing hunters," Jess said tiredly. "People, they're not so good with."

"Hey!" Sam protested.

Jess grinned at him. "Love you." She turned to Ellen. "I think I found your name in his journal. But the next pages were torn out. What happened?"

"You'd have to ask John that," Ellen said, a little coldly. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. But John wouldn't have sent you if …" she trailed off. "John didn't send you, did he?"

When neither of the boys would meet her eyes, Jess heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry. He … passed away a few weeks ago. We think the demon got him before he got it, one way or another."

Whatever had happened with John in the past, Ellen looked shaken. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," Dean said, his voice rough. "We're okay."

"Basically, if you can help," Jess said hastily, before Ellen could challenge him on that, "we could really use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," Ellen admitted. "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" Sam asked.

"Ash!" Ellen called.

The guy asleep on the bar started, almost falling off as he woke up. "We're closed!"

Jess eyed the guy's mullet dubiously. "Seriously?"

"Give him a chance," Jo said. "He's a genius."

"If you say so," Jess muttered.

Sam shrugged, pulling the folder with John's demon research out of his jacket.

"Are you kidding?" Dean asked. "This guy's no genius; he's a Lynyrd Sky roadie!"
Ash laughed. "I like you."

"Thanks," Dean muttered.

"Just give him a chance," Jo said, stashing the shotgun back under the bar.

Dean sighed, taking the folder from Sam and opened it. "Alright, this is about a year's worth of our dad's research …"

"We can't make head or tail of it," Jess added.

Ash rifled through the papers, shaking his head. "Come on. This shit ain't real – nobody could track a demon like this."

"Our dad could," Sam said.

"There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations …" Ash trailed off, seeing their confusion. "I mean … damn! They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms …"

"Isn't that usual for demonic activity?" Jess asked.

"Not normally at this level, no," Ash said. "I'd be expecting a whole hoard of demons at this level, not just the one."

"Can you track it?" Dean asked.

"With this, yeah," Ash said. "Just give me some time. Give me … uh … fifty one hours."

"Thanks," Dean said. "Dig the haircut."

Ash smirked. "Business in the front, party in the back."

Jess took a seat at the bar, watching him disappear into the back room.

Dean wandered over to talk to Jo, which worried Jess slightly, but Jo seemed like she could handle herself.

Who knew – maybe she could get Dean to open up?

"What's that, Ellen?" Sam asked, pointing at the wall behind the bar.

Ellen glanced over her shoulder. "Police scanner. We keep tabs on things."

"No, the folder," Sam said.

"Oh, that." Ellen took the folder off the wall and handed it to him. "I was going to hand it to a friend due to pass through in a few days, but you're free to take a look."

Sam opened the file, Jess reading it over his shoulder.

"Couple murdered, child left alive …" Jess read. "God, that poor child …"

"Gets weirder," Ellen said.

"You're telling me," Sam said, reading ahead. "Kid says they saw a clown tear their parents to shreds and then vanish into thin air."

"Are we sure this isn't just psychological trauma?" Jess asked. "I mean, it says here they went to the carnival that day – children who go through traumatic events often mix up their timelines about the incident."

"Possibly," Sam conceded. "But it's worth a look."

Jess looked from the file to his face, but his expression was unreadable. "Have you … seen something like this before?"

"No," Sam said. "But Dad wouldn't want us to sit around. We'll take this one, Ellen; if that's okay."

Ellen shrugged. "Be my guest."

Sam picked up the file and went to talk to Dean.

"Oh boy," Jess sighed. "Silence and avoidance tactics."

"I'll take unhealthy coping mechanisms for 500," Ellen said. "You want a drink?"

"Love one," Jess said. "Unfortunately, they'll want to leave tonight, and I need a clear head to deal with them."

"How long have you and Sam been together?" Ellen asked.

"Coming up to … four years," Jess answered with a smile. "He and Dean are a package deal."

Ellen smiled back. "Nothing's changed there then." She glanced back to the back room. "Something Ash said bothered you, didn't it?"

Jess grimaced. "I'm wondering how likely it is that the demon was letting John track him. You know, leading him into some kind of trap."

"Making the omens bigger," Ellen said, thoughtfully. "It's possible, I suppose … John certainly had target fixation."

"Jess," Dean called. "We're heading out. Thanks for the help, Ellen."

Ellen raised a hand in acknowledgement. "Good luck, Jessica."

"Thanks," Jess said. "I'm going to need it."

A few days later, Jess followed Dean and Sam back into Bobby's house and watched them both disappear in separate directions – Sam upstairs and Dean out the back.

"What happened to you?" Bobby asked.

Jess rolled her eyes. "Killer clowns, a carnival, rakshasa and a whole boatload of Daddy issues."

"Thought you were going to talk about the demon," Bobby said. "What happened?"

"Damned if I know," Jess said, accepting a beer. "Normally, it's Dean on the 'what Dad would have wanted' kick and Sam holding him back. Suddenly, it's like the roles have reversed. Ellen had a job; Sam agreed to take it."

"Killer clowns?" Bobby asked. "Kid hates clowns."

"I know," Jess said. "Or rather, I do now." He sighed. "Is it weird that I'm grateful that at least something about these boys is normal? Nice, normal irrational phobias."

Bobby chuckled. "Tell me about it. What did Ellen say about the demon?"

"Her friend Ash has set up some kind of tracking algorithm," Jess said. "He reckons when the demon pops back up again, he'll know. Oh, and Dean didn't even attempt to hit on Jo."

"Probably smart – her mother's a wildcat," Bobby said frowning. "But that's … not Dean."

"I know," Jess said tiredly. "Dean says he's dealing with John's death and Sam isn't, but …"

"Neither of them is dealing with it," Bobby said. "They're just both not dealing with it in different ways."

"I'm not too worried about Sam," Jess admitted. "He won't talk about what happened, but at the same time … he's interacting with people he cares about, whereas Dean wouldn't even take a one-night-stand as a distraction. And the way Jo was looking at him … she'd have gone for it. It's not like Dean to turn down a sure thing."

"Sam's behaviour is odd though," Bobby pointed out.

"No, it's to be expected," Jess said tiredly. "Even Dean hit the nail on the head – Sam did nothing but fight with John and now he's trying to do what he thinks John would want, to make up for that."

"And that's not unhealthy?" Bobby asked sceptically.

"Oh, it's totally unhealthy," Jess said. "But it's not as bad as Dean's lone ranger act. Aside from anything else … he still hasn't said anything about John's last words."

Bobby scowled. "I'd never say this to the boys, Jessica, but that man did more harm than good a lot of the time."
"Hey, you're preaching to the choir here," Jess said, setting her bottle down. "It's just nice to talk to someone about this without getting told that 'they don't need babysitters'."

"John was a soldier," Bobby said. "Never learned there's a time and a place for stoic. Me, I seen enough hunters break because they won't talk when something's bothering 'em."

"Well, I'm going to talk to Dean," Jess decided. "Even if I have to keep talking at him until I get a response."

"Well, you must have the patient of a saint to have put up with them this long," Bobby said, toasting her with his beer bottle. "So good luck."

Jess pulled a face and followed Dean's earlier path out the back door.

The heavy metal was missing, which was her first clue something was wrong.

The second was the steady sound of thuds, which got louder, and louder, until she rounded a pile of cars to find Dean attacking the Impala with a crowbar.

"What the … Dean!" Jess darted forwards, seizing the crowbar on the back swing and wrestling it out of his hands.

Her instinct was to confront him, but the grief was so raw and real on his face that she just couldn't bring herself to do so.

Throwing it away as far as she could, Jess did the only thing she could think of, throwing her arms around her brother and holding him tightly.

He fought her for a few moments, then folded in on himself, crumpling into her arms.

Jess stumbled, but just about managed to guide them both to the ground.

They ended up sitting against the front wheel of the Impala, Dean's face pillowed in her shoulder. She held him close, murmuring comforting nonsense, over and over, while he shook with the force of sobs he had probably been holding back for years, not just since John's death.

"Dean," she whispered, "what did your dad say to you?"

His arms tightened around her, and she felt him shake his head.

"Okay." Jess pressed a kiss to his forehead. "It's okay. We'll just stay here. You don't have to tell me."

At this rate, Jess wasn't sure she even wanted to know.