Get It While You Can

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to Peridot809, Nelle07, legrowl, ThreeMoons, angeleyenc, Strangler000, kazza03, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, deansbabygirl934, Lov3good, tbelle1234, SilentKnightInDisguise11, martine, Padme4000, and Savannah123 for all the reviews!

"Scarecrow"


Chapter 28: Meet Steve Juarez

Every last person in the bar was staring at them.

Jayne knew they were staring; she just didn't care. She couldn't seem to feel their eyes. She could see the bartender stepping out from behind the bar, eyeing the scene warily, and she saw Lynn stand up beside her, darting nervous glances around the dimly lit, smoky room. The music on the jukebox seemed to get quieter somehow. But Jayne ignored all of that, and focused on Steve. She'd hit him pretty hard, maybe harder than she'd meant to hit him, and now he was half lying, half sitting on the scuffed-up hardwood floor. He wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand and then squinted up at her.

"Got that off your chest, then?" he asked smartly. "We good now?"

Jayne stared at him a second longer, clenching her fists at her sides and pressing her lips into a tight, firm line. "Where the fuck have you been?" she hissed.

He got up from the floor, sniffing and dusting off his jeans. "Oh, you know. Here and there. Spent some time around Cali, Vegas, swung down by New Orleans… even hitched a ride on a riverboat queen."

"Don't you dare," Jayne spat. "Don't you joke about this, you little brat. You hear me?"

Steve shrugged, slinging back his shoulders and holding up his hands. "Who's joking? I like those riverboats."

Her jaw tightened. "You looking to get hit again?"

He smirked, but then he dropped the bravado. He shook his head, sucking in his left cheek, and then glanced around the room. "Maybe we should take this somewhere else."

"I agree," Lynn cut in. Both Jayne and Steve looked at her in surprise. She raised her eyebrow at them, nodding towards the curious bar patrons. "You two are making a spectacle of yourselves."

A quick look around the bar and at the open-mouthed patrons still staring at them, along with an on-edge bartender watching their every move, made it clear that Lynn was right, but Steve just smirked, shrugging, and caught Jayne's eye. "Because she never makes a scene," he said sarcastically, and even though she was still pissed at him, Jayne couldn't help smirking back.

"No," she agreed dryly. "Lynn is Miss Calm and Collected."

"Ha," Lynn practically spat. "Fine. Go on and make fun of me. Pull my pigtails if you have to. Anything that keeps you two getting along and not throwing punches is fine by me. Anyway, we should go before the bartender calls the cops."

Jayne hated to admit it, but Lynn made a good point. Steve shrugged, and glanced furtively around the bar. "Staying at the motel next door?" he asked. Jayne nodded once. "Yeah. Me too."

Steve glanced around the bar again, and Jayne followed his lead. The customers were still eyeing them, but most of them had more or less returned to their drinks by now. They'd turned from open gawking to shooting the three hunters short glances out of the corners of their eyes. The bartender, on the other hand, was still staring straight at them.

"We should leave," Steve said suddenly, agreeing with Lynn. "Uh... I've got some things to say…"

"You got a whole hell of a lot of things to say," Jayne snapped.

He froze up, looking like he wanted to argue, but he resisted. "Yeah," he said tightly. "A whole hell of a lot of things to say. But this looks like such a family place, and I think you know I've got a potty mouth."

He smirked again, flashing all his teeth at her. Jayne bit her upper lip and hardened her eyes, suddenly not sure if she wanted to hug the brat or punch him again.

"All right," she said slowly. "Let's head to the motel."


Ten minutes later, Jayne was leaning on the wall in her and Lynn's cheap, dated motel room. It was ugly, but all the motel rooms where they stayed were ugly. There was fake, dark wood paneling on every wall, and frilly curtains over the lone window. The bedspreads had a swirly blue and purple pattern, and unfortunately, the carpet matched.

Lynn sat on the bed farthest from the door, gripping her knees nervously. Steve was near the window, leaning on his shoulder with his arms folded across his chest, and he was looking anywhere that wasn't his sisters.

"So…" Lynn spoke up, after they'd all been too quiet for too long. "You said you got some things to say?"

Steve nodded slowly. "Yeah… um… well, I guess you two are pretty pissed off at me, huh?"

"Pissed off is an understatement," Lynn informed him tightly.

He chuckled slightly, but then he hung his head, running a hand over his newly buzzed scalp. Jayne was still having a hard time with the new look; it didn't quite look like him, somehow, and it made her even more on edge, more suspicious... more upset. "Look," he sighed. "I didn't want to leave the way I did. I didn't want to hurt you, to make you worry…"

Jayne snorted. "You didn't, huh?"

"No," he said seriously, looking her straight in the eye. "I didn't."

Jayne stared evenly back. He looked like he'd meant it, but if that was really the way he felt then he shouldn't have done it in the first place. Steve cracked first under her hard look, sighing and shaking his head as he dropped his eyes to the carpet under his black motorcycle boots. "Look," he said again. "When I first took off? That wasn't my choice. You have to know that."

"So... what happened?" Lynn asked impatiently. "What, did you get kidnapped or something?"

"Kind of, yeah!"

There was a long silence in the wake of his announcement. Lynn looked startled, her dark eyes wide and watering. Jayne swallowed, too hard, and then she frowned at Steve, tilting her head. It was a shocking announcement, and when he dropped that bomb, her throat tightened as she considered what might have happened to her little brother, what might have taken him... but then, something didn't add up, and she was right back to feeling suspicious about it all. "Kind of?" she echoed, and Steve slowly closed his eyes, like he was fighting off a migraine. "How do you kind of get kidnapped?"

"I don't know, I..."

"Which was it?" she snapped. "Did you or didn't you?"

"I did!" he snapped back angrily, and it was enough to silence her for a moment. "It's difficult to... there were these demons, all right? And I don't know what happened. I was east of Winston-Salem..."

"We know," Jayne returned in a hard voice, and he laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, that's right. How can I forget your little Inspector Gadget thing that you slapped under my car? You know," he wagged his finger at her in a mocking impression of a little old lady teacher scolding her unruly students. "That's the kind of thing that ruins relationships!"

The smart mouthed brat routine was hardly a new one. At this point in the game, she was plenty used to it, but it still pissed her off, even if she knew Steve wasn't the only one in the room who'd made a mistake. Deep down, Jayne knew that spying on Steve was crossing a line, no matter what kind of pain in the ass he was. But she hadn't been spying on him, not really, not until he disappeared. It was a safety measure... not that she thought he'd understand.

"I never looked at it," she informed him anyway, and Steve scoffed disbelievingly. "I didn't. You kept taking off like a dickhead, and I got worried that one day you were going to fall down a well or some shit, and I wouldn't be able to find you any other way!"

Steve made a face at her. "What, and in this I-fall-down-a-well scenario, there's no Lassie?"

"Shut the hell up," she retorted. "Look, I get that I crossed a line, but for the record? I wasn't keeping tabs on you. I never used the damn thing, not until you vanished and ditched your phone, and we couldn't find you!"

"Yeah, and you scared the hell out of us, by the way!" Lynn added, and she sounded pissed too, but she also sounded like she might be on the verge of crying, and it ruined the overall effect. "So maybe we have more of a right to be mad at you than you have to be mad at us right now!"

Steve didn't like that, Jayne could tell. He narrowed his eyes, and they got all dark and stormy gray as he glowered at Lynn. But then he tucked his chin, and swallowed down whatever smartass, angry retort he'd been working on, and instead he replied, "Like I said, I got snatched."

"When did you get away?" Lynn pressed, not letting up an inch. "How? What did they do to you?" Pushiness aside, Lynn's anger was gone, and instead she sounded worried and scared, and Jayne swallowed too hard, reminding herself that Steve's disappearance wasn't exactly a clear-cut case of Steve being an asshole. There were other factors to consider.

Steve shut his eyes again and slumped on the wall a little, sighing. "I got out, maybe a month later, around Palo Alto."

"And you've just been hiding from us ever since!" Lynn exploded, rocketing up on her feet, and her voice was so loud, Jayne was sure their neighbors heard it loud and clear through the thin walls. "That was months ago, Stephen!"

He flinched when Lynn used his full name. "I had to! You don't understand!"

"Explain," Jayne returned sharply.

He glanced at her, and then took a deep, steadying breath, visibly swallowing. "I was checking out some demonic omens down around by Winston-Salem," he told them. "I caught a whiff, you know? There was… there was a fire."

Jayne tensed. She and Lynn stared at him. Jayne got up off her wall. Lynn let go her knees and sat up straighter, biting her lower lip. "A fire?" Jayne repeated, her voice suddenly too low and too calm.

Steve nodded. "So, I went looking. Thought there might be a lead. The last thing I remember is picking up the phone to call you…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "Then I woke up weeks later in California, with just about no memory. These two demons were dragging me around, and I couldn't tell you why, really." He shrugged, shaking his head, and huffed out a laugh that wasn't really a laugh. "I guess maybe I got too close back in North Carolina? Maybe I was about to hit on something they didn't want me to find."

"And then you escaped?" Jayne suggested.

He nodded. "Yeah. Let's just say I barely escaped with my life."

"But why didn't you call us?" Lynn asked.

"I had to go," he told her firmly. "I had to go underground and go deep, and you couldn't be a part of it, all right? They… they want me dead. The demon that killed Mom… at least, I mean... I know we think it's a demon…"

"It's a demon," Jayne said flatly. She didn't bother to elaborate.

Steve looked like he wanted to ask questions, but he didn't, swallowing too hard again. "The demon wants me dead," he went on. "Don't ask me why. All I can figure is that I got too close, that I…" He swallowed, squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. "I must have been on to something. So those demons took me, and that thing... they were working for it, right? And now it wants me dead, and I can't risk that damn thing coming after you two, you understand?"

"After us?" Lynn repeated. "Why would it come after us?"

But Steve didn't get a chance to answer that question, because Jayne had had enough. "You're full of shit!" she barked angrily, stepping forward. He got off the window fast and stared her down. "How dare you come up here and tell me you split to protect us?"

"I did!"

"Yeah?" she snapped. "And that switch with the tracker..."

"You want to bring that up again? I'm still pissed about that, Jaynie!"

"Oh, we're going to fucking talk about it!" she shot back. "You stuck that thing on another hunter's car, two hunters who've got some history of their own with that demon, and now you're going to stand there and act like this was all about our safety? Don't feed me that!"

Steve blinked, taking a step back, hitting the wall again. Jayne narrowed her eyes at him, scrutinizing his face, and he hardened his own eyes, straightening his spine. Then he shrugged carelessly, like he was still some smartass teenager with a shit attitude. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Jayne glared at him, and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but he didn't crack. He folded his arms over his chest and stared straight back at her, lifting his eyebrows like a challenge. What are you going to do about it? It made her want to haul off and slug him again, but she didn't.

"You didn't know?" Lynn asked faintly, but she didn't sound like she totally bought the line either.

"Didn't know what? So I picked the wrong car! What do you want from me?"

"Well... Steve, come on," Lynn insisted, although she was a lot gentler about it than Jayne had just been. "That's an awful big coincidence, isn't it?"

"What, you think I did it on purpose?" he scoffed. "Why, Lynn? Why the hell would I do that?"

He was being unnecessarily harsh to Lynn, especially considering Jayne was the one giving him the hard time. Lynn blinked rapidly, like she was trying to keep back tears, and she looked away from him as she started to pace in front of her bed. Jayne gave him another long, hard look. He still seemed pretty damn uncomfortable, but he still didn't crack, and she still didn't believe him. She didn't believe him at all.

"You really think I'm going to buy that crap?" she retorted.

"You believe whatever the hell you want," he shot right back. "All right? I don't care. All I care about is that the two of you get out of the line of fire."

She shook her head in disgust, and scoffed at him. "Fine. Let's say you didn't know," she said, and it even tasted like a lie. He was lying. "Let's say you're trying to protect us."

"I am!"

"Well, you don't have the right!" she shouted at him. "You don't get to decide that!"

"Oh, but you do?" he asked coldly.

She glowered at him, but the rebuke hit home, and for a moment she was silenced.

"You get to decide what to tell me and what not to tell me?" he went on. "When I'm old enough to do this and hear that? You get to decide what hunts I hang back on, what guys I don't take on in poker, which fights I steer clear of… hell, you get to put a tracking device on my car?!"

"Damn straight!" she returned fiercely. "You're my little brother, and that is my right."

"You're full of shit!" he snapped, echoing her earlier statement. "We ain't living by two different sets of rules here, Jaynie! If I want to protect my family, I'm going to protect my family! Don't act like you don't get it!"

Jayne swallowed too hard, going silent, but Lynn started shouting at Steve instead. "No! No, I don't get it!" she exclaimed. "We don't get it! If something's wrong, Steve, you have to tell us! If you need help…"

"I don't need help!"

"You got some bad ass demon on your butt, and you think you don't need help?" Jayne interjected smartly. "Of course you need help!"

"You don't get it!" Steve bellowed, slamming his fist into the wall. The loud bang resonated through the motel room. "That thing will come after you, do you understand me? It wants me dead, and it will kill you two to do it! How can I stay with you?"

"I don't care what that thing wants," Jayne returned. "I don't care if it does kill me. All I care about is that it doesn't kill you."

"Well, you just about hit the nail on the head, big sis," he replied in a chilly tone. "I get the ax, well… I had a good run, right? You two get the ax, and well…" he chuckled dryly. "That's a whole other story."

Jayne glared at him, but didn't interrupt.

"Won't let it happen, Jaynie," Steve told her, shaking his head. "That evil bastard ain't hurting my sisters."

There was a short silence. Jayne dropped her eyes to the ugly carpeting, biting her upper lip, shaking her head. Lynn was fidgeting up a storm, looking like she wanted to say something but wasn't sure she should. She spoke up anyway. "But Steve…" she started to reason with him, but he cut her off.

"No. Look, there's only one reason why I came here, only one reason why I called. Those two other demons I mentioned? They caught up to me again, just a few days ago. I shook 'em loose, but…"

He trailed off, shaking his head, but Jayne's patience was about shot. "But what?" she demanded.

Steve sighed heavily. "Before I got out, they… they told me they knew where you two were."

Lynn and Jayne exchanged a look. "So… what?" Jayne asked flatly. "What does that mean?"

"It means they know where you are!" he exploded. "It means they're keeping tabs on you two! And it means that they will use you two to get to me!"

"And you think this will deter me from looking out for my little brother?" Jayne retorted.

"No," he snapped. "But I thought maybe if you knew the whole story, you'd understand why I bailed!"

His words echoed around the room, and Jayne didn't understand, not really. She comprehended what he was saying just fine, but she couldn't wrap her head around Steve bailing to protect them. Steve had bailed too often, ran too many times, for too many selfish reasons, and suddenly Jayne realized she had stopped being able to give him the benefit of the doubt.

She wanted to scream at him some more, but she was coming up empty. Yelling at him was exhausting. She fell silent. Lynn was quiet too, and after a moment, Steve sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Besides, I needed to warn you two. If these demons know where you are, then you two are in constant danger."

There was another long, tense silence.

"So, I warned you," Steve added. "So I'm going to leave. And I don't want you to follow me."

That got her hackles back up again. "You are not going anywhere," Jayne replied in a cold, deadly voice.

He sighed. "Jaynie…"

"Don't you Jaynie me," she interrupted. "You are not going anywhere. You are not leaving. You are not vanishing and then not calling for six months so we can lay awake at night worrying about whether you're dead or alive!"

This time, it was her words that echoed around the room. Lynn flinched. Steve was effectively silenced. He stood still a moment, opening and closing his mouth without making a sound.

"Now, we are going to sit down and talk about this," Jayne went on. She took a deep, steadying breath. "These two demons want you? Fine. Between the three of us, we ought to be able to put them down."

"You don't know these demons," he retorted. "The one? This bitch, she's... she's a sadistic whack-job, a nightmare right out of a horror movie. The things she's threatened to do to me... the things she says she's going to do to you... the bitch is sick. I don't her anywhere near you two! I don't even want her anywhere near me!"

"I don't care," Jayne replied. "She comes after us, I send her packing. She can be as sick as she wants while she's burning in hell."

"There's more where they came from."

"Then we'll put them all down," Jayne snapped. "As many as they can throw at us."

"And the big man?" Steve retorted. "Eventually, he's going to come after me."

"Good. We've been waiting a long time to put him down."

Her brother shook his head, rubbing his temples. "He's more than we can handle, Jaynie. He's not going to be easy to get rid of."

"All right," Jayne agreed easily. "We'll call for backup."

"Back up?"

Jayne looked at Lynn, and she nodded back, clearly understanding what Jayne was thinking even before she opened her mouth. "We'll call Dean and Sam," Lynn explained.

Steve blinked, looking from one sister to the other. "Who?"

Jayne scoffed at him. "That black, 1967 Chevy Impala you slapped the tracker on? The one whose owners you claim not to know anything about?" she retorted, and Steve rolled his eyes impatiently.

"What, you mean that old busted piece next to my Bird back in Palo Alto?" he asked

"It's not busted," Jayne snapped at him, and Lynn looked at her like she was crazy. Not that Jayne blamed her; she'd even surprised herself with that one.

Steve frowned again, looking from Lynn to Jayne and back again. Lynn narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "So... you really didn't know who owned that car?" she asked.

"I said I didn't! Should I?"

Lynn looked at Jayne, catching her eye, and Jayne could see they were still on the same page regarding Steve's story and which parts they didn't totally believe. "The demon killed Sam's girlfriend right around the same time you were in Palo Alto," Lynn explained in a hush. "And they lost their mom to that thing too, back in '83, just like we lost Ana. The fire, Ana being pinned to the ceiling, your six month birthday… the whole nine yards. The only difference was that it was Sam's six month birthday."

Steve looked a little nonplussed by the story, and Jayne studied him, still looking for whatever it was he was lying about. "Wow," was all he said.

Lynn screwed up her face and leveled him with another disbelieving frown. "You really didn't know?"

He swallowed too hard. Jayne watched him carefully, still scrutinizing him. He shrugged, affecting that same annoying, careless, pain-in-the-ass attitude all over again. "I know nothing about it."

She still didn't believe him. "I'm going to call Dean," she told Lynn, ignoring her brother for the moment.

Lynn nodded. "Good idea."

She fished her phone out her coat as Steve huffed indignantly. "Who the hell is Dean?" he wanted to know, but Jayne was distracted. She had a missed call from the man in question, and there was a voicemail waiting for her. "Hello?" Steve insisted, and Jayne waved at him to be quiet, dialing her voicemail and holding the phone up to her ear.

"Hey, Goldilocks," Dean's voice sounded from her voicemail, and Jayne frowned at the clunky white baseboard heater as she listened incredulously to the voicemail Dean had left on her phone. "Uh... look, about yesterday... no hard feelings, ok? We're cool? I, uh... look, I'm calling because... well, Sam and I split up. He's headed to California too, to look for our dad and... and the demon. I just thought, you know, maybe you and your sister could look him up. Watch out for each other, that kind of thing. Just... just check in, ok? Or tell him to check in, or... look, I'll see you around. Later, Jayne."

She heard a click on the line, and she screwed up her face, shaking her head. Steve was still demanding answers, raising his eyebrow. "Uh… someone want to tell me what's going on here?"

"No offense, Steve," Lynn returned. "But I'm not so sure you're in any position to complain about being left out of the loop."

"All right, all right," he said, harassed, and he held up his hands in surrender. "I might have deserved that."

"Might?"

"Seriously, what the hell?" Jayne exclaimed, hanging up her voicemail line, and both her siblings jumped, startled by her outburst, before exchanging a frown.

"What's the matter?" Lynn asked.

"Dean called," she replied. "Sam bailed on his brother and decided to hitchhike to California!"

"What?"

"Seriously, could those two have worse timing?" Jayne spat. She marched towards the door, still preoccupied with her phone, and Lynn and Steve stared at her as she walked away. "Hang on. I have to call Dean back."

Then suddenly, Jayne stopped short, hand on the doorknob, as she recalled the reason she wanted to call Dean in the first place, and she leveled Steve with a hard look over her shoulder. "You sure there's nothing else you want to tell us?" she prompted, staring him down.

Steve stared right back and shrugged. "Nope," he chirped, flashing a shit-eating smirk. "I'm good."

He was lying. She was still sure he was lying. Jayne wasn't so sure what about, or why, but she was sure he was hiding something, leaving out a part of the story, a piece of the puzzle. But she didn't call him in on it, not then. It could wait for another time. Instead, she leveled a stern, threatening finger in his direction.

"Don't you move," she ordered. "I'll be right back."

Then she dialed Dean's number and stepped out of the room, into the cold night air.


It was after sunset, pitch dark out on Orchard Road where there were no streetlamps, only a distant porch light on the other side of the orchard, barely visible through the heavy fog rolling through the apple trees and across the lonely, curvy road. Dean sat behind the wheel of the Impala, parked off the road and hidden in some shrubs just outside the Burkitsville orchard. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, nodding along to the music playing softly on the car radio, and watched the dark road that led into town, waiting impatiently for a red SUV.

Tomorrow, he'd do some research. Tomorrow he'd kill the big bad. But tonight, he was saving that couple from Scotty's Cafe, even if they had blown him off when he'd tried to save their asses earlier in the day.

Suddenly, his phone rang, and the noise was too sharp and shrill in the relative quiet of his car. Dean froze. For a moment, he thought it might be Sam, and the thought spurred him to action. Quickly, Dean dug the phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen... only to see that it was Jayne.

There was a flash of disappointment, but it vanished quickly when he realized it was Jayne, and she was actually calling him back. Was it possible that she wasn't pissed anymore? He scrambled to answer it, putting the phone up to his ear. "Well, hello, Goldilocks," he greeted her, smirking into the phone. She couldn't see the smirk, but he was hoping she'd hear it.

"You're a moron."

He blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then he chuckled. "Damn, is it good to hear your voice again."

"You let Sam leave?"

"Hey, he wanted to go. Sure wasn't going to stand in his way."

"Since when?"

"Hey," he reprimanded her, a little hurt, even if the conversation followed their usual childish banter.

She sighed harshly into the phone. "Sorry. Just... what the hell are you two thinking, anyway?"

"He's thinking he's sick of following my Dad's orders and not getting anywhere when it comes to finding the thing that killed his girlfriend," Dean replied, and even as he said it, he knew he was right. Of course that was what Sam was thinking, and even if Dean hated it, it wasn't like he couldn't understand it. "And I was thinking that... I don't know. I was sick of his crap."

Because he was sick of Sam's crap. He wanted to be pissed at Dad? Fine. John Winchester's choices weren't Dean's choices, even if he did follow the man's orders, and he was tired of taking the heat for them.

"Look, Sam left," he summed up, changing the subject. "Too late to do anything about it now. I just wanted to give you a heads up. He's headed to California, so… maybe you can look him up, make sure he's all right, that kind of thing. Work together."

There was moment of silence on Jayne's end, and he used it to check the road again. Still dark, still quiet, still no sign of the couple slated to be scarecrow chow tonight. Then Jayne sighed again. "Actually, I can't," she said.

Dean blinked, taken aback again. "Why the hell not?" he demanded, unaccountably annoyed by her refusal.

"Because I'm not in California," she informed him. "I'm nowhere near California. In fact, I seriously doubt I'm going to California."

Well, that was sure as hell a 180 from the way she'd been talking the day before. Dean shook his head, confused. "Well, why not? What happened?"

"Um…" she said, and her voice was uncharacteristically tiny. "Well, we got a phone call. Took us off track."

"A phone call? Who was it?"

Jayne sighed again. "My brother."

He hadn't expected an answer like that, and for a moment he was stunned into silence. Dean sat still, frowning, blinking, and then he shook his head. "Your brother?" he repeated.

She sounded irritable when she replied, "Yeah, Dean, that's what I said."

"So, um… what? He's all right?"

"Yeah. He's fine. I mean… well, he's not dead. Not injured. Just…"

"Where is he?"

"We met up with him in Iowa about an hour ago. He wanted to talk."

Dean scoffed loudly, flopping back against his seat. "He wanted to talk?"

"Yeah."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he exploded.

"What do you mean?"

"He split? He ditched you? And now he wants to talk?"

The outburst threw him as much as it sounded like it had thrown Jayne. Dean was a little too angry about something that wasn't technically his problem, and deep down, he knew it too. Jayne was quiet for a moment, and then she sighed for what felt like the thousandth time, harsh and heavy into the phone, in his ear. "Dean…" she said warningly, but he cut her off.

"Did you at least punch him?" he demanded.

He was surprised when she laughed a little. "Uh… yeah, actually…"

Dean frowned, taken aback. "You did?"

"Yeah, well..."

She trailed off, and Dean shook his head, chuckling quietly into the phone. "You know, Goldilocks, most of the time you are a colossal pain in my ass… but sometimes? You really are awesome."

"Thanks. I think."

They lapsed into silence again. Dean checked up and down the road, getting a little antsy about the couple he was supposed to save. So far there was no one: no cars, no pedestrians, no freaky walking murderous scarecrows. "So," he said. "What's the deal?"

"Well… look, how's that case coming?"

"Oh, well…" He blinked, taken aback by the abrupt subject change. "Uh... I'm closing in, I think. Seems like these couples are sacrificial offerings, you know? Like the townspeople are serving them up to some big-time pagan god."

"The townspeople?"

"Yeah. It's this Podunk place in Indiana called Burkitsville… anyway, these people, man. They are one weird bunch, you know? And there's this couple? The local garage owner is fixing their car? I don't know… they're road-tripping. And when I saw them at the local diner… well, what a spread. Like a, well…"

He trailed off, but Jayne seemed to know exactly what he was trying to say. "Like a last meal kind of deal?" she suggested.

"Exactly. Plus there's this orchard? You should see this scarecrow they got out there. It is one freaky looking sucker."

"Scarecrow," she echoed thoughtfully. "Hmm. So... what? You think the scarecrow's the god?"

"I don't know, maybe… maybe it's like a vessel for the god, you know?"

"Yeah, maybe," she murmured. And then, incredulously, in a less than helpful tone, "Well, how the hell are you going to kill a god?"

It was a damn good question, but Dean just laughed it off. "I'm working on it," he replied.

"You're working on it?" she repeated, unimpressed.

"Yeah, Goldilocks, I'm working on it. Don't sweat it. I got a plan."

"Right. Sounds like a recipe for disaster."

He smirked into the phone... and then he changed the subject back to what was really important. "So, what did your brother have to say?"

Jayne didn't answer right away. "Um…" she hedged, after a beat. "Well, that's kind of the reason I'm calling you."

"Really?" Dean asked, smirking. "And here I thought you just called to tell me I was a moron."

"I can have more than one reason."

"Ha."

"Look, Steve… Steve said he had a lead on the demon."

It was warm in his car, with the heater running, but suddenly Dean was cold all over, frozen on the driver's seat. He went quiet for a moment, blinking rapidly, and then he swallowed, too hard. "The demon," he repeated. "Wait, what? The demon?"

"Yeah. The demon," Jayne affirmed, and in the opinion of someone very close to freaking out, she sounded far too calm about it. "At least, he did. And honestly, he's not even sure what he had. He… said he got too close or something. That he thinks the Big Bad got anxious? Long story short, there are these two other demons trying to kill him."

"What?"

"Yeah, that's why he split. Said he didn't want to put us in danger or some stupid shit like that." She made a harsh, annoyed scoffing sound. "Way he talks, he wouldn't have even bothered coming to see us now if these demons hadn't... well, I guess they caught up to him recently. He slipped loose, but before he did, they… they told him they knew where we were. Where Lynn and I were. And he got all freaked out and decided he had to warn us. I don't know. The kid wants to take off again, but I'm not letting that happen."

It was a colossal info dump, and it left Dean scrambling to catch up. He turned the radio all the way down, and barely remembered to check the road for the couple he was supposed to be rescuing. "Wait," Dean said again, frowning, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "Wait, hang on a second. Are you telling me that these two demons are coming after you now?"

"No, I'm telling you that Steve thinks these two demons are coming after us. Personally, I ain't that worried about it."

Her flippant response irked Dean. He tightened his jaw. "Well, maybe you should be," he snapped. "What if they do come after you, huh? What then?"

"Then I send their asses back to Hell where they belong," she replied evenly. "And that's two less demons for me to worry about."

Dean didn't totally understand it, but suddenly he was pissed. "You are downright reckless, you know that?"

"You think I should just sit back and let those two SOBs out of hell kill my little brother? I don't think so, Dean!"

She sounded as pissed as he was. Dean could feel it in the harsh, angry way she spat her words into the phone. It wasn't hard for him to picture the dark, hard glare she so often wore when they argued. He almost felt like she was sitting right in the car with him.

"You know damn well that's the last thing I mean," he retorted. "Look, I'm not saying you shouldn't watch out for the kid, I'm not saying you shouldn't be there to protect him… all I'm saying is maybe you ought to be just a little worried about yourself!"

She didn't answer. He pressed on anyway. "I mean, I'm going to be worried about you."

Again, she didn't answer right away. When she did, she sounded uncomfortable. "Why would you… no one asked you to worry about me, Dean."

"Well, we're friends, right?" he replied. "And that's what friends do."

There was another long, uncomfortable pause, and Dean figured he shouldn't have said it. He'd crossed a line, got too real... and then she sighed, apparently relenting. "Dean, look… my brother is really freaked out. He told me that these two demons won't be the last. That someday the demon we've been hunting all our lives might come chasing after him himself."

Dean swallowed too hard. He didn't know what to say. She kept talking. "I just… he's worried. He thinks he's putting Lynn and me in danger by sticking around, and he's not sure we can handle all this ourselves… which is bullshit, you understand."

He smiled slightly. "Oh, yeah. I comprendé."

"So… I told him I would call in some backup."

"Backup?"

"Listen, I know… I know you promised your Dad you'd keep out of this," she said, words stilted and slow and stumbling. "I know he told you he didn't want you anywhere near this mess with the demon… I understand if you don't want to help. I just thought… bad as it sounds… that Steve might be our in? He might lead the demon to us? And maybe you'd want to be there when…"

"When the shit hits the fan?" Dean supplied.

"Yeah."

Dean's teeth grazed his lower lip. He stared out the windshield for a moment, into the dark foggy orchard, not answering. "And maybe help you out when the other demons come?" he finally said. "Be your backup and all that?"

"I didn't say… look, you don't have to."

"Oh, I want to," he replied. "You think I'd let you guys down? That I wouldn't show when you need me?"

"I don't need…"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before."

He could hear her smiling when she replied, "So… should we try to work something out here?"

"Come to Burkitsville," he told her. "All three of you. Help me wrap up this case. And then from there… well, between you, me, and Lynn, I'd say we can keep your brother safe. And maybe we can hook up with Sam again. I'm sure he'd want in on this."

"Yeah." She sounded interested now, almost excited. "Yeah, we could do that. And then maybe we could wait those things out? You know, kind of lure them to us and set a trap? Exorcise the two demons on my brother's ass?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, starting to get into the whole thing too. "Maybe if I call my Dad, leave another voicemail… maybe he'll change his mind."

"Yeah. We should try it. And maybe we could drop in on Rufus."

"Definitely. And, hey, I know people too."

They were quiet a moment. "So… you're coming to Burkitsville tomorrow?" Dean asked.

"Yes," she told him, determined. "We'll be there."

"Call me when you get in."

"You got it."

"I'll see you then."

"Yes, you will."

"Ok. And Goldilocks? Be careful."

"Right back at you. You fucking idiot."

She hung up. Dean smiled slightly, hanging up as well and then eyeing his phone. For the first time since his dad had called, maybe even for the first time since he'd picked up Sam in Palo Alto, there was a moment where Dean started to feel hopeful about all this.

Then he heard a spluttering engine, and looked up just in time to see the couple's red SUV from town coasting to a stop right outside the orchard. As he sat there in his car, watching, the engine died and the headlights shut off, and the young couple from the diner stepped out of their car, slamming their doors behind them. They headed into the dark, foggy orchard, making their way towards the single, lonely light shining from across the orchard, and by the time Dean had put his phone back into his coat, grabbed his shotgun, and gotten out of his car, the couple had vanished from sight.

Cursing, he jogged through the orchard's teeny little wrought-iron gate, following the couple into the fog. He walked the same path from earlier in the day, through the mist, skirting around crooked black trees, trying to make as little noise as possible. He paused, shotgun pointed cautiously ahead of him, hand resting on the damp bark of a nearby tree, and he listened. The orchard was quiet and too still, and he couldn't hear anything at all, except the soft footsteps of the couple, a little bit further ahead of him, and a single, distant hoot of an owl.

Dean pressed forward again, picking up the pace a little, and then, suddenly, he heard the screams.

He broke into a flat out run, leaping over abandoned crates and hay bales, towards the couple's running footsteps and terrified screaming, a lump in his throat as he raced the scarecrow... he could hear its heavy shoes clomping through the mud and its long black coat trailing through the dead leaves, and it creeped him the hell out.

Dean rounded a corner and burst out of the fog, where he nearly ran right into the frightened young couple, who screamed in his face.

"Get back to your car," he ordered, pointing the shotgun over their shoulders. "Go!"

They ran past him. Up ahead, through the apple trees, Dean could see the scarecrow, tall and dark and ugly, striding purposefully through the orchard, scythe in hand. Dean fired a shot, and then another. The shells landed, glancing off the thing's chest like mosquitoes, and the scarecrow didn't even break stride.

"Shit," he whispered and he started running like hell after the couple, towards the exit. The thing followed them, and Dean fired off another shot over his shoulder, and another and another, but the scarecrow kept marching towards them and the shells didn't even slow it down.

"Go! Go!" he shouted at the couple again, gaining on their heels as they tore through the trees. Dean's heart was hammering in his chest, lungs burning, as he finally ran through the orchard gate, just behind the terrified couple. He spun around on reaching the road, cocked the shotgun again, and pointed it at the gateway, looking for the scarecrow.

There was nothing there.

Dean frowned into the orchard. It was silent now, no crunching footsteps over dead leaves, and he saw nothing and no one, just trees and fog. He could hear the heavy panting of the couple behind him, both panicked and out of breath, and he thought he showed some pretty awesome restraint, considering how he managed not to say I told you so.

"What the hell was that?" the man asked breathlessly, in his ear.

"Don't ask," Dean replied.


Two states over and a good thirty minutes earlier, Lynn frowned at the motel room door as it slammed behind her stepsister.

Somewhere to her right, Steve scoffed loudly in the wake of the echo. "Looks like I'm under house arrest," he joked, but he sounded resentful.

"You deserve it," Lynn retorted without looking at him. "You also deserve a good kick in the ass, but… I'm too tired to beat the snot out of you."

He heaved a melodramatic sigh. "So you're mad too?"

"Of course I'm mad!" Lynn practically exploded, whirling around to glare at him. He flinched away from her, and it only made her angrier. He was being a petulant jerk-face, and Lynn wasn't sure how to take him anymore. Jayne didn't seem to believe anything he said, and maybe after all that had happened, that was fair. All Lynn knew was that she had a feeling - a nagging, pricking, certain feeling - that there was something missing from Steve's story. A lost, important detail that he'd dropped from the tale, and she was worried what that detail might be, and what Steve hiding it meant.

"You ditched us, Steve!" she shouted at him next, and he didn't bother defending himself. "You vanished, knowing we would worry about you, knowing we'd be trying to find you… and it never occurred to you to even pick up the phone! How could you do that to us?"

There was a long silence. Steve shoved his hands in his coat pockets and leaned back against the wall. "I'm sorry, Lynn," he sighed.

"Are you?" she snapped.

"Yeah," he nodded, staring at the lamp behind her. "I really am. I just… I was scared. I had these demons after me, and… and all I could think about was the danger I was putting you two in, just by being around you."

She couldn't answer right away. She just stared at him, and he didn't look at her. It was her turn to sigh. She sank slowly down, back onto the edge of the bed. Steve was standing hunched up in the corner between the window and the bed by the door, and he was staring at the outdated, blue and purple carpet with a hangdog expression on his face, and she caved. She always caved.

"You always were a dumbass," Lynn said jokingly, and more fondly than she'd wanted.

He looked up slowly, raising an eyebrow. Finally, there was eye contact. An amused grin began forming on his face. "See, now that? That right there? I missed that."

"Well, good," she replied. "Next time you decide to do something stupid like running away, remember this moment. Think about all the moments like this that you'll miss out on if you're hiding in Canada somewhere."

"I wasn't in Canada."

"I don't see how that's important."

They lapsed into another long silence. Steve scratched awkwardly at the back of his head again. Lynn rolled her eyes and shattered the silence. "Jayne's right," she told him. "She is. You don't have to run, ok? Jayne and I are big girls. And whatever's after you? We can hack it. We need to stick together, Steve. That's the only way we're going to get these guys."

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Lynn…"

"Listen to me," she said seriously. "This running away and isolating yourself crap? It's stupid. Really stupid."

"Yeah, well…"

"You make an 'I was always a dumbass' comment, and I'm going to find the energy to kick you in the ass."

He sighed again, and then looked her in the eye. "I don't want to be the reason you two get hurt."

"Too bad," she retorted. "I don't want to be the reason you get hurt. And if something happens to you while you're out there, away from us, trying to handle everything by yourself under some misguided attempt to protect us, that's exactly what would happen. You'd be hurt, or dead, and I'd feel like it was my fault."

They were quiet again. He sighed harshly, and then stomped over to the bed, sitting beside her. "It's a little early in this reunion for the emotional blackmail, you know?" he quipped, and she just gave him a dirty look. He sighed again. "All right. Let's try it."

The smile spread across her face in spite of herself. "As if you had a say in the matter."

"I tell you, it is good to be back with the family."

She smiled wider, and dropped her eyes to the carpet. Steve shook his head, running his hand over his bald head again. "So... these Winchesters," he murmured. "You've been hunting with them?"

Lynn nodded. "Uh... yeah," she hedged. "Sort of."

"And they've been gunning after the same big bad we were?"

"Again, yeah."

Steve shook his head again, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight. She watched him clench and unclench his fist. "And here I was, thinking I was keeping you two safe? Instead, I've gone and thrown you right back in the fire."

"For the last time, no one needs you to keep them safe," Lynn retorted. "For another thing, this might actually be good. I mean, it hasn't exactly been terrible, knowing the Winchesters."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. They've helped us out a time or two, and vice versa. Sam flat out saved my life in Stamping Ground."

"He did?"

"Yeah. Rufus called us up, saying you had stopped by…"

"Damn it," Steve cursed quietly, shaking his head. "I knew he was going to do that."

"Anyway, some demons decided to nest on the property," Lynn finished. "They took root in the walls. And they tried to burn me alive."

"What?"

"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. If we hadn't known Sam, I might not be here right now. The guy saved my life. Pulled me out of a burning building."

Steve shook his head again. "See, now that's exactly why I left!" he exclaimed, and Lynn's stomach swooped as he got angrily to his feet. She watched the progress she'd just made unravel before her eyes. "You weren't even with me! You were in a place I had once been, and you nearly died!"

"Steve, don't you even start with me!" she snapped at him, and he rolled his eyes, running his hand over his scalp again.

"Look, Lynn, maybe I ought to hit the road again…" he started, but she interrupted him quickly.

"Don't you even think about it!"

Her voice was shrill and it echoed through the tiny motel room. Steve stared at her, and she glared back, and for a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then Steve heaved a heavy sigh and retook his seat on the bed beside her.

"So this Winchester chump saved your ass, huh?" he asked, almost conversationally, and it was a weird one-eighty, but Lynn adapted quickly, eager to steer the subject away from him leaving again.

"Yep. Dean's helped us out too. He saved Jayne's life too, actually, back in Stamping Ground."

"Really?" Steve scoffed. "Jaynie let someone save her life?"

Lynn laughed. "Yeah, well, that's the thing about Dean. No one 'lets' him do anything." She laughed again. "He even fixed Janis for her."

"She let him touch Janis!?"

"Nope," Lynn replied, still giggling. "He just did it. And she was not pleased."

Stephen chuckled slightly. "What, so he swoops in and plays hero whether she likes it or not?"

Lynn frowned, thinking about it. "Yeah. I guess that's exactly what he does."

"And he's still alive?"

"Go figure."

"Wow," Stephen shook his head again. "She must like him."

"You think?" Lynn asked genuinely, half frowning and half smiling at him. Steve shrugged, and she nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes I think she does."

They were quiet a minute. "Well, he's got to be better than Hannigan, right?" Stephen finally said. "I hate that bastard."

Lynn screwed up her face incredulously. "He's Danny! What has Danny ever done to any of us?"

"He touched my sister!"

"She touched him back!"

"Gross! Stop right there; I do not need that image in my head!"

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Danny's really not such a bad guy, Steve."

"Well, I don't like him. And if Jaynie finally moves on with someone else – anyone else – I'll be happy. Even if it is this yahoo who drives a crappy car."

Lynn frowned. "Whoa, wait. What, you think Jayne's got something going on with Dean?"

"You just said you think she likes him!"

"Yeah, well," Lynn huffed out. "I meant as friends! Kind of. I don't know, ok? She just threw a flashlight at his head like three days ago, so…"

Steve snorted. "Why doesn't that surprise me at all?"

She had to admit, he had a point there. Lynn sighed, blowing her bangs off her forehead, and they lapsed into silence again.

"I mean, that would just be weird, though," she said, unable to stop talking, and Steve raised an eyebrow and gave her a pointed look. She ignored him. "I mean… she can't because… well, because Sam and I…"

She realized too late what she'd been about to say, and even though she clamped her mouth shut immediately, Steve still groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, hell, no. You are not hooking up with the little brother!"

Lynn glared at him and tossed her ponytail, folding her arms over her chest. "What if I am?" she retorted primly.

"Lynn!"

"Ok, I'm not," she admitted.

Steve made a face. "But you want to?" he guessed.

Lynn sighed. "Yeah."

Steve groaned again. "You know, this is one thing I do not miss about hunting with the two of you! It was so nice not knowing who you two were sleeping with."

"Nobody's sleeping with anybody!"

"Good! Seriously – you all are my sisters, and I'd like to believe neither of you so much as takes your clothes off."

Lynn slapped him on the arm. "Tough luck, kiddo. I got needs."

"Yeah, well, you keep up that kind of talk, and I'm gonna need to go vomit."

An amused smile tugged at her lips as they fell quiet again. It was almost like before, she reflected, studying the ugly swirly pattern on the bedspread. Joking around, giving each other a hard time… not fighting. Beside her, Steve jiggled his leg nervously, and it was like a cold water shock. Steve wasn't supposed to be nervous around her. But he was, Lynn realized, and things were not just like before.

"Hey, Steve?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Did Dad ever tell you about my mom?"

He gave her an incredulous look. "You kidding me? Dad never told me crap about crap."

Lynn laughed slightly. That felt good too, hearing Steve complain about their dad again. It was something familiar; it was something she recognized. "Yeah, I know," she murmured ruefully. "He never told anyone crap about crap. I guess that was kind of his thing."

Steve made a noncommittal humming noise. "If he told anyone anything, it was probably Jaynie," he pointed out.

"I already asked. She's got nothing."

He nodded, pursing his lips and widening his eyes ever so slightly. He turned from her just a little too quickly and gazed absently at the other bed.

"What?" Lynn demanded.

He blinked, startled. "What?" he repeated.

"What was the face?"

"I didn't make a face!"

"You made a face. What was the face?"

"There was no face!"

"Steve," Lynn intoned, her voice deadly. "What was the face?"

Steve sighed. "Look, I'm sure Jaynie's telling the truth."

"What do you mean you're sure Jaynie's telling the truth?"

"I'm just saying… Look, I love the girl. I do. But when it comes to Dad, well… I mean, you know how Jaynie is."

Lynn looked at the floor.

"Anything Dad said? She was on it. Anything Dad did? She was for it. When it came to Dad, well… sure, she loves us. But his wishes will always trump ours. You know that, Lynn. You know that if Jaynie knew something, and she also knew Dad didn't want you or me to know, that she'd never breathe a word to either of us. She'd take that secret to the grave."

There was a long silence. Lynn swallowed hard, fidgeting. She didn't like hearing that, but it must have been true, because it nagged at her, and she couldn't push it aside. "So you think she's lying to me?" she finally asked, in a teeny-tiny voice.

Steve shook his head. "Nah," he said, giving her a smile, and Lynn wasn't sure she bought it. "I don't think she's lying." Then he frowned. "Why are you asking about your mom, anyway? What is it you want to know?"

Lynn shrugged and sighed. "I don't… promise you won't tell Jaynie?"

"A secret? From Jaynie?" Steve smirked. "Ohh, now you have to tell me. Must be good."

Lynn shoved him. "Seriously."

"My lips are sealed. Just tell me what's up, Lynn."

She sighed again. It was a little too easy to tell him, slipping out piece by piece. It was too easy to tell him where telling Jayne was too hard. "A little while back, we were hunting this poltergeist, and… and, well, we ended up working the job with this psychic. Her name was Missouri Mosley."

"A psychic, huh?"

"Oh, she was the real deal," Lynn assured him. "She could tell me what I was thinking before I even knew myself. Literally a mind reader."

Steve nodded, looking only slightly less skeptical.

"Anyway, she made this comment about my mom? Not anything concrete, you know? Nothing that should make me wonder, but even still…"

"It's got you wondering?" he finished.

"Yeah. Exactly."

She went quiet for a moment, and Steve nodded slowly. "Well," he said suddenly. "Maybe you shouldn't."

Lynn looked at him like he'd lost it. "What? Why not?"

He shrugged. "Hey, I'm just saying. I mean, if you want to go poking around about your mom, that's your business. You know I'd support you on that. Just... I mean, maybe you're right. Maybe Dad kept quiet about her for a reason; maybe you don't want to know."

Lynn frowned. "So... what? I should just forget about it? Bury my head in the sand?"

"Look, being in the know ain't always what it's cracked up to be," Steve retorted. "Some shit you're better off not knowing."

Something about that set her on edge, and she frowned sideways at him. Steve wasn't looking at her; he was frowning at the ugly wood paneled wall, massaging the knuckles on his right hand. Again, Lynn thought that something was wrong.

The door swung open before Lynn had a chance to confront him, and Jayne stepped inside, tucking her phone into her coat pocket.

"All right," Jayne announced, slamming the door behind her. "Here's the plan. We're heading to Burkitsville tomorrow morning."

"What?" Lynn asked incredulously.

"Where?" Steve added.

"We're going to Burkitsville, Indiana," Jayne replied evenly, like it was a done deal and not up for discussion. "We'll meet up with Dean, help dumbass wrap up his case, and then we'll try and meet up with Sam."

"Uh… why?" Steve asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Jayne snapped. "I told you, we are working this shit out. We're going to send those demons you're going on about back to where they came from, and then we are going to put down that evil son of a bitch who killed our mother! And since you're all fired up concerned about that demon being too much for us to handle, we're calling in backup."

"And this Sam and Dean are our backup?" Steve returned, and he did not sound convinced.

Jayne shrugged. "You think up anyone else, you can let me know."

"The Hannigans," Lynn offered quietly.

"Ok, fine," Jayne said, shrugging again. "We'll call them too."

"Too?" Steve repeated. "Look, maybe I missed out on getting to know the boy wonders…"

"People tend to miss a lot of things when they bail on their families and don't call for six months," Jayne retorted.

Lynn winced. Well, she had a point.

Her brother narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine. I deserve that. But I also deserve to know why these two guys are suddenly our number one allies. Why all of a sudden they're on the top of our contact list? Why they're automatically involved in our private family business?"

"Because that evil bastard took their mother too!"

He hadn't been expecting Jayne to shout at him, Lynn realized, when Steve blinked, taken aback. He hadn't expected Jayne to feel so strongly about it. Honestly, Lynn got where he was coming from, even though she got where Jayne was coming from too. Steve stared at Jayne, who took a deep, steadying breath, and then stared Steve down.

"Because they deserve a chance to put that thing down same as we do," she went on, slightly calmer. "Because we're all in the same shit. And because if the tables were turned, they'd call us up too. They'd let us in on this suicide mission." She swallowed, and Lynn could see her running her tongue over her front teeth. "In fact, they already have."

There was another silence. Lynn and Steve both eyed their older sister warily.

"So tomorrow we're heading to Burkitsville," Jayne said after a moment. "We're helping Dean out, and then hopefully we're meeting up with Sam. Lynn, you better call that stubborn bastard and explain things to him."

Lynn automatically paled at the very suggestion. She swallowed too hard. "What? Why do I have to call Sam? Why can't you call Sam?"

Jayne's frown deepened. "Why wouldn't you call Sam?"

She made an excellent point, really, because Lynn was always the one calling Sam, but she didn't want to admit that anymore than she wanted to… well, call Sam. "I don't… I don't…" she stuttered, and Jayne lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. "Well, it's not that I wouldn't, I just… look, I just don't understand why I have to."

"Well, someone has to do it. I don't understand why you're putting up such a fight."

Lynn huffed loudly in exasperation. "I can't call Sam."

"Why not?"

"I… I just can't, all right?"

Jayne stared at her a beat. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Lynn fidgeted under her sister's hard look. "What?"

"Is this about what happened yesterday? Back in Rockford?"

"Whoa," Steve interjected. "What happened yesterday in Rockford?"

"So, you kissed the idiot," Jayne pushed on, ignoring her brother. Steve mock gasped, eyes going wide, and Lynn glared at him over Jayne's shoulder. "So the idiot didn't respond the way you wanted him to. So what? Pull your shit together, woman, and do your job! We've got demons on our asses, and some big time, badass demon to stop! Swallow your fucking pride, and call the dumb jerk!"

Lynn didn't want to hear any of that. Deep down, she knew Jayne was right, but she still didn't want to hear it. Out loud, she let loose an earsplitting, aggravated shriek. "Fine!" she shouted, digging her phone out of her jeans. "Fine! I'll call stupid Sam!"

She stormed to the motel room door and flung it open. Before stomping out into the parking lot, she turned and fixed her stepsister with a withering glare. "You are an unbelievable, hard-headed and insensitive… you know what? You suck!"

Then Lynn marched outside and slammed the door.


Sam couldn't sleep.

Of course, he'd expected that. He couldn't even sleep under the best of circumstances: completed case, comfortable motel bed, full stomach... why would he expect to sleep on the hard floor of a noisy, under-heated bus station?

Most of the lights had been turned off, and it was pitch black outside, nothing but lights from the parking lot streaming in through the ugly vinyl blinds on a nearby window. Sam sat in a hard, blue plastic chair, in the bus station locker room, still trying futilely to grab twenty minutes of sleep or so. Nearby, sprawled on the hard linoleum tile and half leaning on the floor to ceiling block of black, cube shaped lockers, Meg was asleep, using her knapsack like a pillow. He watched her enviously. They had a lot in common, he and Meg… but insomnia was not part of their common ground.

Actually, talking to Meg had been eye-opening, he reflected, thinking back on the conversation they'd had over dinner in the bus station snack bar. If it could be called dinner, seeing as it had been nothing more than vending machine snacks and chips, and cheap mini-mart beer, while they sat at a little round table under harsh florescent lights. He hadn't expected to find so much in common with the young hitchhiker. He hadn't expected it to be so easy to talk to her. He hadn't expected to get so distracted by the bare, olive-toned skin of her shoulder as the black sweater she wore slipped down her arm...

Sam shook his head and looked away from her. She was little and lithe and sprawled out on the floor... but he had no reason to be thinking about her like that, even if she was attractive, and he wasn't going to let himself think like that. Jess had only been gone six months, and he'd already disrespected her memory enough, letting Dean drag him around the country on hunts instead of looking for their father, and letting his eyes wander to Lynn, to Laurie... He'd kissed Lynn only two days ago, outside the motel in Rockford, Illinois. Well, actually, she had kissed him, but that didn't really matter because he had kissed back, and he had felt things, and... well, he couldn't help but feel like the universe was trying to tell him something, because his dad had called only hours later and dropped his bombshell about the thing that killed Jess, and... and it was a much needed reminder, an ice-water shower, waking him up from the slow, lazy haze of the past few months, and putting him back on the right track when it came to finding Jessica's killer.

Anyway, Meg wasn't interesting because she was cute. It was the things she'd said about her family – that they'd loved her and she'd loved them, but she couldn't let them control her anymore – well, he knew exactly how she felt. Before Stanford, before real friends, before Jess, his whole life had been this way; his father and his brother bossing him around – and even though they meant well, he couldn't keep taking it forever. It was why he'd left the first time, gone to Stanford…

But everything had changed after Jessica. After she'd died… well, hitting the road with Dean had seemed like the only option. How else was he supposed to kill the thing that killed her? Sam cursed under his breath, slumping down in the hard, uncomfortable chair. He'd been a fool to think things would be different this time, that he could hunt with Dean again, with his father again, and expect that they would treat him as an equal, instead of some kid who needed to be taken care of and bossed around. They loved him. He didn't doubt that for a minute. But they would never let him be his own person.

Sam glanced at Meg again. They understood one another. They had the same problems – well, kind of - and for some reason, he couldn't shake the thought that Lynn would hate her. He wasn't sure why he thought this. He wasn't sure what it was about Meg that he was convinced Lynn would despise. More importantly, he wasn't sure why it even mattered. But he somehow knew that Lynn would hate her.

Lynn was a puzzle herself. In a way, she was him and Meg, just a couple years older. She'd gone through the same kind of family drama. And yet, she hadn't walked away from her family. She was still hunting with Jayne, she was still tracking Stephen, and she didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon. Lynn was him, he decided, if he'd never found a way to break free. She couldn't look past family loyalty and obligation in order to see what she wanted or needed. She'd given up on her dreams to keep Jayne company, while her older sister hunted herself into the grave.

And as much as Sam loved his brother, as much as it hurt to leave him behind for good, Sam would not do that. He would not give up everything just because Dean was lonely.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed against his thigh, in the pocket of his jeans, and Sam frowned, fishing it out and thinking it might be Dean... but Lynn's name flashed up at him from the screen. Speak of the devil...

"Hello?" he answered quietly, trying not to wake up Meg.

"Just so you know? The only reason I'm calling you is because Jayne is making me."

She sounded clipped and frosty and a little flustered. Sam frowned. "Um…" he replied. "Uh… okay?"

"I don't want you to think that I'm calling you for any other reason. This is strictly business."

"Uh… well, all right."

"Good. Because my brother called, and Jayne and I met him in Iowa, and now we're kind of sticking together."

To say that Sam was surprised was an understatement. "Lynn, that's great!" he exclaimed in an undertone, still mindful of the woman sleeping a few feet away. He was genuinely happy for her, genuinely glad that something had worked out for one of them.

"Yeah," she murmured back, but she didn't sound convinced. "Thanks. Anyway, he's fine, but… but these demons are after him? And they're working for the demon that killed my stepmom."

He froze on the bus station chair, suddenly cold, hairs standing up straight all along his arms. "What?"

"Yeah. I guess he stumbled onto the thing's path right before he vanished, and... well, he's not sure what he knows, but figures he must have gotten close to something, and put himself on the thing's radar? And… well, anyway, Jayne called Dean and Dean told her that you two split up, and then he agreed to help us, so… anyway, Dean and Jayne thought maybe you would want in on it too. Because, you know, Steve might lead the demon to us?"

Sam was momentarily at a loss for words. He frowned at the wall on the other side of the station, replaying the arguments from the day before in his head... the showdown in the parking lot, the screaming match at the side of the road... he knew Jayne and Lynn had been on his side, when it came to finding the demon, but Dean... well, Dad had said to steer clear of the thing, and Dean always did what Dad said. Now Stephen Juarez was back on the map, and suddenly Dean was working with Jayne and Lynn again, agreeing to help while Stephen baited a trap for the demon Dad specifically said to stop hunting? He couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

When Sam regained speech, he asked, in an incredulous tone, "Are you offering up your brother as bait?"

"No," Lynn snapped. "I'm not doing anything of the sort. If I had any control over this, my little brother would be locked away safe and sound in a tower somewhere. But I don't have any control over this. These demons want my brother dead – and apparently, they answer to the big bad that you and I want dead. And that big bad will track my brother until he kills him. So… I say we kill him first. You in?"

For a moment, Sam didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure whether he was in or not. On the one hand, Lynn and her stepsister sounded like they needed him. Their brother was in danger. And if the demon that killed Jess really was after Stephen, then sticking with Lynn and her family might be the quickest way to find the thing. But at the same time, he was so close to getting to California. California – where his father was. And his father was already on the demon's tail.

If he went with this plan, he might have to wait. Knock down all the soldiers standing in front of the actual target before he could get to the demon. If he found Dad... well, maybe he found the demon, and cut out all the middle men.

"I, um…" he finally hedged out. "Let me think about it, ok?"

There was a long, tense silence. Sam winced. He opened his mouth after a bit, to smooth things over, but didn't get a chance. "Ok," Lynn said abruptly. "I get it."

"Lynn," he replied, maybe a little too quickly. "I just mean… I'm so close to finding my Dad."

"I know," she said. "I get it. This could be a lead, but... so could California. And meeting up with us now means losing the lead on your Dad."

Sam had his mouth open to explain, but he closed it slowly when she put it perfectly into words for him. They were quiet again.

"But look, if you need help," he spoke suddenly. "If you need anything… call me."

"Right," Lynn replied unconvincingly. "Of course. Thanks."

They were quiet again.

"Bye, Sam," she said.

"Bye…" he began, but she'd already hung up the phone.

He stared at the phone in his hand. Bad elevator music was playing from the speakers overhead, a quiet, tinny backdrop as he sat in the hard blue chair, shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts. When it came to Lynn, everything was a mess. Ever since that kiss… well, he liked her. He did. It wasn't anything against Lynn, or the kiss. A part of him wanted the same things she did. But the other part of him… the other part of him couldn't stand the thought of betraying Jessica.

Eventually, Sam put the phone aside and leaned back farther in the chair, arms folded over his chest, and closed his eyes. He sighed, fidgeting, and tried again to get some sleep. He tried for hours, actually, shifting about restlessly in the hard chair, sighing and puffing and groaning. It was a lost cause. Sleep was not coming tonight.

With a sigh, Sam opened his eyes and got to his feet. The sun was rising, and morning was coming, whether Sam had slept or not, and now it was the gray morning light peeking in around the blinds on the window, rather than the spotlights in the parking lot. Sam yawned, scratching at his hair, and headed for the vending machines. If he was going to get through this day, he was going to need coffee.

It was then, as he played with the coffee-dispensing vending machine, that his phone rang again. He pulled it out of his jeans one-handed, trying to fill a cup with coffee as he did so, and rolled his eyes when he saw Dean's name flashing back at him.

"Hey," he greeted his brother irritably. "Look, if you're calling to talk me into this whole thing with Lynn and Jayne and their brother, don't bother. Lynn already called, and..."

"I'm not calling for that."

He faltered a little, wind taken out of his sails. "Oh," Sam said lamely. Then he started in on Dean again. "Because what is going on with you anyway? Dad said to stay away, so you're staying away, right? Isn't that what you said?"

Dean heaved a heavy sigh. "Sam..."

Sam kept talking over him. He was pissed, and he hadn't realized it until he heard his brother's voice. "So, what? Jayne calls because their brother suddenly popped out of the woodwork, and now you change your tune? You're going to go after the demon, with them? But when I want to..."

Dean didn't let him finish. "It's different," he interrupted. "Didn't Lynn tell you?"

Sam screwed up his face incredulously. "Uh... yeah? She said her brother was being hunted by demons, just like we thought, and that they work for the thing that killed Jess, and that you're thinking about using him like bait to trap the thing."

"Well, that's not the whole story," Dean informed him, and Sam frowned, taken aback, and leaned against the coffee machine. "Ok? We don't know when or if the thing that killed your girlfriend is coming after him. All we know for sure is that there are definitely two demons chasing him right now, and they almost caught up to him recently."

Sam frowned harder, taking a sip of his coffee. He fidgeted against the machine. "She didn't say that, exactly..."

"And he told his sisters that before he managed to give the demons the slip, they told him they knew where Jayne and Lynn were, and they threatened to go after his sisters next," Dean finished.

Sam nearly spilled his coffee. "Wait, what?" he demanded, pushing himself off the vending machine. "Lynn didn't tell me any of that!"

"Yeah, well... that's what Jayne said."

Sam frowned harder. "So... she called to ask you for help? Jayne?"

"Yeah... I think it was more about giving me a lead on the thing," Dean replied. "Calling me like I called her, back when we went to Lawrence? She's big on not owing people crap. Anyway, she was being her usual pain in the ass self, and acting like it wasn't a big deal, and she wasn't in trouble."

He was starting to sound annoyed again, in that grumbling, disgruntled, slightly befuddled way that he usually got annoyed, whenever the source of his irritation was Jayne. Sam smirked a little. "But that's not why you agreed to meet up with them," he realized. "It's not about the demon, is it?"

"You're right, it's not," Dean said quickly, before Sam could say anything else. "It's about our friends needing help. Is that all right with you?"

He was getting prickly about the whole thing, and Sam knew he should let it go if he wanted to steer this conversation back on track, and have a productive discussion with his brother. He made his way back towards the lockers, towards his abandoned chair and his pile of stuff. "So... what about Indiana?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm in Indiana," Dean retorted. "Town called Burkitsville, actually. Already working the job. They're going to meet me here, we'll wrap this thing up, and... well, I don't know. I called Dad."

"You did?"

"Yeah. More than one phone, left a few voicemails... maybe he'll change his mind."

Dean didn't sound too hopeful about it, and Sam wasn't either. He sat down in the plastic blue chair again and took another sip of coffee. "So... are you going to California?"

"I don't know."

Sam didn't know what to say to that, so he changed the subject. "Well... ok, tell me about this job."

"Killer scarecrow," Dean replied, and Sam couldn't help his scoffing laugh. "What, you think I'm joking? It's in the middle of the local orchard, and tonight it got up, started walking around, and chased a married couple with a freaking scythe."

"The scarecrow climbed off its cross?" Sam repeated incredulously.

"Yeah, man, I'm telling you. Burkitsville, Indiana. Fun town."

"It didn't kill the couple, did it?"

"No," Dean retorted. "I can cope without you, you know."

"So, something must be animating it," Sam mused, ignoring the sarcasm. "A spirit?"

"No, it's more than a spirit," Dean replied. "It's a god. A pagan god, anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"The annual cycle of its killings? And the way its victims are always one man and one woman, like some kind of a fertility rite. And you should see the people in this town, the way they treated this couple, fattening them up like a Christmas turkey..."

"The last meal, given to sacrificial victims."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I'm thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some pagan god."

"So... a god possesses the scarecrow..."

"The scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won't wilt and the disease won't spread."

"You know which god you're dealing with?"

"Nope, not yet."

"Well, if you figure out what it is, you can figure out a way to kill it."

"I know. I'm actually on my way to a local community college. I've got an appointment with a professor... you know, since I don't have my trusty, sidekick geek boy to do all the research."

Sam smirked a little, rolling his eyes. "You know... if you're hinting you need my help, just ask."

"I'm not hinting anything," Dean returned. "Actually, uh..." he paused, and a quick, short, quiet laugh escaped on his end of the phone. Sam frowned. "I want you to know... I mean... don't think..."

"Yeah," Sam murmured. "I'm sorry too."

"Sam, you were right," Dean said, and Sam frowned again. "You got to do your own thing. You've got to live your own life."

"You're serious?"

"You've always known what you want," Dean replied. "And you go after it. You stand up to Dad, and you always have. Hell, I wish I..." he cut himself off. "Anyway... I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy."

He hadn't expected Dean to say that, not in a million years. It was like Dean was giving him his blessing, and Sam wasn't sure how to handle it. "I don't even know what to say," he admitted.

"Say you'll take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Call me when you find Dad."

"Ok," Sam whispered. "Bye, Dean."

Dean hung up the phone, and left Sam reeling, sitting on the edge of the hard plastic chair. He frowned at the wall again, slowly putting aside the phone. Meg, who he'd nearly forgotten during the call, suddenly stirred over by the lockers. She got to her feet, grabbing her bag, and walked over to him, taking a seat one chair over from him. "Who was that?" she asked curiously.

"My brother," Sam replied.

She didn't say anything about their earlier conversation, about the things he'd said about the Dean, or about living their own lives. "What did he say?" she asked instead.

Sam frowned again. "Good bye."


The community college literature department in the next town over was small, but fancy, two stories high, and with stained glass windows along the staircase. The school's mythology professor was a stooped over old man with iron-gray hair, wearing a dark red cardigan, and whose reading glasses were on one of those geeky old people chains. Dean followed him down the stairs, past old paintings and white paneled walls, his hand trailing over the woodwork on the handrail. "It's not every day I get a research question about pagan idolatry," the professor said.

"Yeah, well, call it a hobby," Dean replied.

It was hard to get his head back in the game, after hanging up with Sam barely half an hour earlier. It had been harder to call Sam, to say what he had, but Dean had sucked it up, and he'd done it. After talking to Jayne the night before, well… he'd realized he had to call Sam. Not just because he could use the kid's help if he was going to help protect Stephen Juarez and send some demons back to Hell. It was more about... well... damn, this was hard to admit, but... Jayne could lose her brother any day. The boy was literally being hunted. And after Dean had hung up the phone, two things had haunted him the rest of the night. The first was that Stephen Juarez could be right, that the demons after him might go after his sisters, and that meant Jayne could die.

Which used to be a weird thing to worry too much about, but she was his friend now, and Dean didn't have many of those… even if she was a colossal pain in his ass.

The other thought was that Sam could be in danger too. Sam was going off hunting for that evil son of a bitch, and that meant a whole hell of a lot of trouble for Dean's little brother. The least he could do was say goodbye.

So he'd called Sam, he'd made amends, and he'd given Sam his blessing and all that crap. And honestly, he felt a little better about things now. Did he still miss Sam? Yeah. Did he wish Sam was coming back? Yeah. Was he worried about the kid? Big time.

But Sam needed his space. He'd always known what he wanted, and he always went after it. It was time for Dean to step back and let Sam do his thing. Besides, it wasn't like Dean would be alone. He'd have Jayne, and her sister, and even her brother. They needed his help, and they weren't putting up a fight about accepting it. They needed him a hell of a lot more than Sam did right now.

And so did countless young newlywed road-trippers. So Dean was going to ice this nasty scarecrow bitch once and for all.

"But you said you were interested in local lore?" the professor asked uncertainly, and Dean snapped back into the present.

"Mm-hmm," he agreed.

"Well, I'm afraid Indiana isn't really known for pagan worship."

"But what if it was imported?" Dean asked. "Like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants?"

"Well, yes…"

"Like that town near here. Burkitsville. Where are their ancestors from?"

"Uh, Northern Europe, I believe. Scandinavia."

"Well, what can you tell me about those pagan gods?"

"Oh, well there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses."

"I'm actually looking for one," Dean told him, as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Might live in an orchard."

The professor nodded, lifting up a finger. "Ah," he said. "A woods god."

Dean lifted his eyebrows. The professor led the way down the hall and into his office. Dean found himself waiting by the professor's desk as the man dug out a heavy, leather-bound book, and spread it out on his desktop.

"Woods god," the professor mumbled again, flipping through the pages. "Well, let's see…"

Dean watched page after page go by, all written in a foreign, long forgotten language, each page emblazoned with an odd, pagan drawing... and then he saw the picture of the scarecrow, and he stopped the professor.

"Wait, wait, wait a minute," he said, gesturing at the picture of pagan worshippers surrounding a scarecrow type idol. "What's that one?"

"Oh, that's not a woods god, per say…" the man began, but Dean ignored him, focusing on the English translation at the bottom of the page.

"A Vanir?" he asked. The man nodded. Dean read aloud from the book. "The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping local settlements safe from harm. Villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields; some villages practiced human sacrifice of one male, one female."

Dean looked up at the professor, gesturing at the picture. "Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?"

The man laughed nervously. "I suppose so…"

Dean kept reading. "This particular Vanir has energy sprung from a scared tree?"

"Well, pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic."

"So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched?" Dean asked. "You think it would kill the god?"

The professor laughed a little. "Son, these are just legends we're discussing here."

Of course, Dean knew better, but he did his job and lied through is teeth. "Right," he returned. "Of course. You're right."

He glanced down at the book one last time, and then shook the professor's hand. "Listen, thank you. Very much."

"Glad I could help…" the professor murmured, frowning at him, but Dean was used to that sort of reaction. He headed for the office door and yanked it open, anxious to head out and start looking for that sacred tree.

Dean froze. On the other side of the door was the Burkitsville sheriff. Before Dean could act, the butt of a huge rifle swung into his face. The pain lasted only a moment, sharp and sudden, as Dean toppled backwards and hit the floor.

Everything went black.


"You never told me how that phone call went with Sam."

Lynn froze in the middle of folding a shirt. She looked up from where she was packing her duffel on her bed, and glanced across the motel room at her stepsister. Jayne was watching her expectantly she stood over her own bed, packing her own crap, with her back to the motel room door. "So?" Jayne prompted. "What did Sam say?"

Lynn shrugged, and returned her gaze to her duffel. She went on packing. "He said he'd think about it."

There was a short pause, and Lynn tried not to wince. "He'll think about it?" Jayne repeated incredulously.

Lynn shrugged again, trying not to let on how bothered she actually was by it. "Yeah. He's going to think about it. Oh, but the good news? If we ever need anything, we can call him."

Jayne paused again. Lynn could see her standing motionless on the other side of the room from the corner of her eye. Her attempts to not let it get to her, to act like it wasn't bothering her, had definitely failed. She ignored Jayne anyway, concentrating on her packing.

"Well, he sucks," Jayne said finally.

Lynn laughed a little. "Yeah. Maybe. Or maybe he just wants to find his dad."

Jayne stood still a moment longer, and then shrugged. "Well, fine. Whatever. We don't need him."

"No," Lynn agreed, zipping up her bag. "We don't need him at all."

Jayne returned to her own duffel and continued her own packing. "We need to be hitting the road soon," she announced. "Go see if the brat's ready to go."

Lynn nodded, oddly okay with being ordered around if it meant getting her out of that room and away from any further conversation about Sam. She swung her duffel bag over her shoulder and headed outside, closing the door with a dull thud behind her. It was chilly out, gray, but it wasn't raining, and Lynn tossed her bag into the relatively dry truck bed, backed up right against the walkway that went past their motel room. Then Lynn shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, trying to keep warm. She headed a few doors down the concrete walkway, leaving rusty Janis behind her and passing Steve's impeccably maintained orange Superbird. It was the brightest thing in the drab, gray parking lot – it was the brightest thing around for miles, actually – and it stuck out like the tacky orange eyesore it really was. Lynn rolled her eyes at the old car and knocked on Steve's door.

The motel room door swung open moments later. Steve nodded at her and then headed back inside the room. Lynn followed him in, shutting the door behind her, and wrinkled her nose. Steve's room didn't look any different than the one she shared with Jayne: same dark, fake wood paneling, white baseboard heaters, and an ugly, swirly blue and purple pattern on the carpet and comforter. There was a single king bed in the center of the room, instead of two queens, but otherwise it was the same room, right down to the frilly curtains and the eighties model television set.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

"Almost," he replied, making his way to the king sized bed, where his duffel bag sat wide open on the mattress. He shoved a few more things inside while she watched. "How far away is this Burkitsville place?"

"Almost eight hours."

Steve scoffed at her. "Come on, now. I think we can do better than that."

Lynn smirked and rolled her eyes, and then sat down on the bed, across from the duffel bag. "Jaynie's itching to leave. Dean hasn't been picking up the phone this morning, and she's adamant that means he went and did something stupid."

Steve laughed a little. "What do you think?"

"Well, it is Dean," Lynn returned. "So… yeah. She's probably right."

He laughed again.

Lynn sighed. "Steve, I don't want to sound preachy or nagging or anything, but…"

"I know," he interrupted. "Family sticks together and all that. I need to stick this out. Dean will help. So will Rufus and Deedee and the idiot. And hell, maybe even your little boyfriend will lend us a helping hand."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "He's not… whatever. Don't bet on it."

He raised his eyebrow at her inquisitively.

"Don't ask," she returned, holding up her hand.

Her brother smirked, looking back down at his bag. "Maybe you're right," he murmured. She looked at him in surprise. He folded another shirt and tucked it inside, and then he looked up from his packing and stared her straight in the eye. "Maybe running was stupid."

She blinked at little, taken aback, and a small, slow smile started to spread across her face. But before either of them could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. Lynn sighed again. "Probably Jayne," she said.

Steve rolled his eyes, walking towards the door. "Impatient, ain't she?"

He swung the door open wide, and instantly froze. Lynn frowned at Steve's sudden tense silence, craning her neck in the direction of the door. Standing framed in the motel room entrance were two people: a man and a woman. The man was tall, dark, and unshaven. His serious expression was rigid, fixed… like it was carved from stone. The woman had long, wavy, bouncy brown hair. She was pale and rosy cheeked like a china doll, and she had bright, fiery blue eyes. She pulled her red painted lips back into a seductive, mean little smirk.

"Stephen Juarez," the grave faced man said, staring Lynn's brother down.

Steve frowned, feigning confusion. He poked his head out the door ever so slightly, looking first one way, and then the other. Straightening up, he shrugged at his two visitors and flashed them a grin that showed off every last one of his perfect white teeth. "Sorry, amigo, wrong room. The name's Philbin. Regis Philbin."

His expression still fixed, the man at the door slowly tilted his head to the side, his eyes never leaving Steve's face. Lynn swallowed and got slowly to her feet, reaching for the Glock in her waistband. Every last nerve in her body was on high alert, and the hair on the back of her neck was standing straight. She felt a little sick to her stomach. Then the china doll on the strange man's arm threw her head back and laughed, tossing her long, glossy brown hair. Lynn's skin crawled.

"Oh, sweet pea, if that don't beat all," she chuckled in a buttery southern drawl. Lynn swallowed bile, the woman's sugary sweet tones sending instant shivers up and down her spine. "Regis Philbin," repeated the real-life southern belle. "What a hoot. I'll have to remember that one."

Steve tensed, his fingers twitching at his sides. She leaned towards him, one arm reaching up and grabbing the top of the doorframe. "What's a matter, handsome?" she asked, fluttering her long, fake lashes. "Don't you remember me? I'll be plumb devastated if you don't."

"Lynn," Steve said through gritted teeth, taking a step back from the door. "Bathroom."

What he meant by that, of course, was bathroom window. Lynn recognized at once that her brother was telling her to run... and she just wasn't having it. "No, thanks," she replied, stepping closer to him. Her fingers closed over the gun in her jeans, but she didn't dare draw just yet. "I'm good."

The woman's eyes landed on Lynn. Instantly, those fiery baby blues flared up, and her mouth puckered in an approving 'o.'

"Well, well, what do we have here?" she asked, licking her red lips. "And what is your name, brown sugar?"

"Not now," the man snapped at her, his face still rigid and emotionless. He looked Steve dead in the eye. "You going to come on out, Stephen? Or am I coming in?"

Steve chuckled in mock-sheepishness, scratching the back of his neck while his free hand gestured helplessly around the room. "Well, gee, if you insist," he replied in his best imitation of a flustered housewife. "I mean, it's just that the place is such a mess… I haven't even had time to vacuum…"

Suddenly the wind picked up outside, whistling through the parking lot. Papers were whisked off the dresser, whipping around the tiny room. The curtains and bedclothes flapped up and down in the breeze, and the salt before the door scattered. Lynn watched the salt line vanish with horror. She looked up at the two people in the doorway. Both the man and the woman's eyes rolled up towards their foreheads, turning a dark, empty black.

Lynn gasped, backing away from the door, a panicked half-formed through in the back of her mind – they're demons, these are the demons Steve was talking about – and then both of the things were in the room, and Lynn drew her gun.

Her weapon flew from her hand immediately, before she had a chance to pull the trigger, not that it would have done her any good. It hit the wall on the other side of the room and bounced, landing on the floor.

The man was instantly in front of her brother, grabbing him by the front of his leather coat. He tossed Steve backwards into the bathroom door. He hit the ground with a heavy thump! Lynn leapt at the man, but the woman appeared beside her, grabbing her around the waist and slamming her down on the nearby bed. She coughed, collapsing on the mattress with the wind knocked out of her. The man reached Steve in record time, lifting him from the ground and forcing him into the bathroom by his throat.

For some reason, she heard the shower start running.

The woman had climbed on top of her, and she held her forcibly down, but Lynn caught her breath and slammed her fist into the demon's temple. When her grip temporarily loosened, Lynn took full advantage, throwing herself off the bed and into the woman's chest. The two of them hit the carpet and rolled. Lynn sat up on her knees and crawled towards Steve's open duffel bag, inspired by visions of holy water. She didn't make it. The woman leapt up and grabbed her by the neck, yanking her off of the floor and slamming her into the wall. Lynn winced, coughing again, the wind knocked out of her a second time.

"My, my, what a feisty little firecracker you turned out to be," the woman grinned, deliberately licking her lips. Lynn struggled against the demon's hold, scratching at the fingers that were choking her, but she couldn't break free to save her life. "Stevie's sissy, yes? The lovely Lynnette?"

"It's Lynn," Lynn spat, her voice raspy from the pressure on her throat. She struggled to breathe.

"Mm-hmm," the demon murmured, still smiling in that cruel, seductive way. She leaned into Lynn's face, too close, dull black eyes zeroing in on her mouth. "And you can call me Faye, doll face. Now how's about a kiss?"

Lynn spit in her eye.

Faye backhanded her across the face. Lynn's head snapped to the side as pain exploded in her jaw. Faye lifted her off the ground by her shirt front and tossed her like a heavy sack. She flew across the motel room and hit the end table, shattering the lamp sitting on top. Lynn tumbled to the floor, taking the broken lamp with her.

Groaning, she lay still on the floor a moment, everything throbbing with pain, and tried to catch her breath. She heard the demon's footsteps, and her heart leapt into her mouth. Get up, move, get up. Slowly, Lynn sat up, wiping blood from her mouth, and broken shards of ceramic tumbled off her, scattering around her on the ugly carpet. She heard the demon's footsteps coming closer, crossing the room, and her stomach rolled. Breathless and bruised all over, she dragged herself backwards gingerly, wincing as she went.

Her back hit the paneled wall. Faye sashayed across the room, coming to a stop directly in front of her, and her painted lips curved upwards again as she planted her hands on her curvaceous hips. Lynn glared up at the demon as she towered over her, smirking.

"This is going to be fun," Faye announced.