Who the Hell Are You?
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing Supernatural. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.
AN: Big thanks yous to 321K-Girl, Nelle07, angeleyenc, hulahula551, Penny, M*YP, LaFemmeQuiRit, Lov3good, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, ThreeMoons, winchesterlover14, deansbabygirl934, ksirrah, BrooklynHiggans63, Joan J., Clarissa Avila, PushUpDaisies, legrowl, Carver Edlund and Supernatural94 for all the reviews!
I know. I suck. I suck so, so, so freaking much. I didn't mean to leave you all hanging for so long! I had writer's block and computer issues and school work… blah, blah, blah, I am full of excuses. Let's just say that I am sorry, and I beg your forgiveness! Please?
Lots of love, poorpiratelass!
Chapter 40: Nightmare
The street was quiet and pitch black. A streetlamp here and there lit the way for passing cars. Rolling down the street, headlights cutting through the dark, was a powder blue two-door sedan with Bob Seger blasting on its radio.
A quick turn and the sedan pulled into a short drive. Waited for the garage door to roll up. When all was clear, the car coasted into the brightly lit garage, parking next to a red jet ski.
The middle-aged man behind the wheel had curly brown hair, receding slightly from his forehead, and deep shadows under his close-set, dark eyes. He shut down the engine, killing the music.
When the garage door closed behind him, he looked back over his shoulder, startled to see the door lowering on its own. As he frowned out the back windshield, the locks snapped down on the two car doors.
His frown deepened. He yanked at the locks, trying to unlock the doors. They wouldn't budge. He was starting to panic when the key turned itself in the ignition and the car roared back to life.
The radio dial rotated on its own, switching stations rapidly. First static, then talk, then weather, then more static, integrated with snatches of music.
He yanked on the locks again as the garage and the car began to fill with exhaust. Coughing, he pulled the locks, rattled the doors, screamed for help.
No one came. He tried kicking out the windows, but the glass held strong against his efforts.
The exhaust overcame him. Choking on the fumes, he fell backwards onto the front bench seat, his head lolling and his limbs weakening.
Then he was still - wide, glassy eyes staring empty at the dashboard.
Sam Winchester woke up.
Sam sat up in bed, looking around the dark motel room, breathing just a little too fast.
He switched on the light, swung his long legs over the side of the bed. "Dean," he hissed, reaching for the bed beside his. He grabbed his brother's arm, shaking it.
"Dean!"
Dean started and groaned, lifting his head slightly from the pillow. The yellow motel blanket slid down, revealing his ruffled sleep hair and black tee shirt. "What are you doing man?" he asked drowsily. "It's the middle of the night!"
Sam was already on the other side of the room, shoving things into his duffel bag. "We have to go."
"What's happening?"
"We have to go! Right now!"
It was times like these when Sam was grateful for his older brother. Dean rolled out of bed and started packing. Sam tried to explain the best he could as they gathered up their stuff. A quick spot check of the room and they were out the door.
Twenty minutes later they were on the expressway, headed for Michigan. The Impala's engine was roaring as Dean whipped the old car down the highway and through the rain at high speed. The rain was pouring down in buckets. The wipers were flying across the windshield full blast. Sam had his cell phone to his ear and was rattling off a stolen badge number for the benefit of the woman at the license bureau.
"I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate M F 6037. Yeah, ok, just hurry."
"Relax, Sammy," Dean said from the driver's seat. "I'm sure it was just a nightmare."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"I mean it. You know a normal, everyday, naked-in-class nightmare. This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see."
"It felt different, Dean. Real. Like when I dreamt about our hold house. Or Lynn. Or Jessica."
"Well, yeah, that makes sense. You were dreaming about our house. Our friends. Your girlfriend. This guy in the garage - you ever see him before?"
Sam sighed, shaking his head. "No."
"Exactly. Why would you be having premonitions about some random dude in Michigan?"
"I don't know."
"Yeah, well, me neither."
The woman at the bureau came back on the line. "Yes. I'm here... Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address?"
She rattled it off. Sam wrote it down. "Got it. Thanks."
He hung up.
"It checks out," he told Dean. "How far away?"
"From Saginaw?"
"Yeah."
"A couple hours."
They were quiet a moment. "Drive faster," Sam said.
Dean stomped down on the gas.
Sam dug out his phone again and dialed.
"What now?" Dean asked.
"Lynn."
Dean sighed. "Right. Of course."
They were silent. Sam waited, hoping someone would pick up.
Cambion.
In demonology and medieval legend, the offspring of either an incubus and human female, or a succubus and a human male. According to the folklore, these half-human children are usually devilishly cunning and angelically beautiful, able to persuade even the most strong-hearted individual to do his or her bidding. Despite this, medieval records are filled with graphic accounts of half-human, half-animal creatures that were reputedly fathered by incubi. Twins and children born with any sort of deformity were automatically suspected to be cambions. The magician Merlin was thought to be the result of one of these midnight copulations... could mean cambions are often born with psychic or demonic powers.
Most cambions have evil tendencies, but some are more sympathetic to the human race than others. It was also said that many do not show any sign of life before seven years old.
The words glared up from the top lines of the yellow Steno paper. For a long time, Jayne just stared at them.
Then she yanked the open bottle off the nightstand and took a heavy swig.
It was dark in the motel room. Lynn was sleeping in the next bed, the one by the bathroom. A blue glow emanated from the TV screen, channel turned to the George Foreman infomercial and speakers put on mute.
She moved to set the bottle back on the nightstand and then froze. The bottle swung back and forth from where her fingers gripped the neck. Then she brought the bottle back and took another long drink. Swallowed. Winced against the burn. She sat the Captain Morgan back down on the nightstand and lifted the Steno pad up, still reading.
Excerpt from the Malleus Malificarum.
"Moreover, to beget a child is the act of a living body, but devils cannot bestow life upon the bodies they assume; because life formally proceeds only from the soul, and the act of generation is the act of the physical organs which have bodily life. Therefore, bodies which are assumed in this way cannot either beget or bear."
Could be speaking of reanimated corpses? In order to reproduce, these unions must be consummated while demon has possessed a living man or woman... can demon remain in the woman and still nourish an unborn child?
It was nearing three am, and Jayne knew she should quit, turn out the light, get some sleep. The bottle was noticeably less full than when she'd started and if she kept going, she'd be useless tomorrow.
Lynn snored slightly in her bed. Jayne glanced at her through bleary eyes, and reached for the bottle again.
Her stepsister's cell phone started vibrating against the nightstand.
Jayne rolled her eyes and snatched it off the table, checking the display screen.
Sam.
She flipped it open. "Hello?"
"Hey, Lynn, it's Sam. Sorry to... Jayne?"
Jayne snorted, tossing the Steno pad onto the mattress and grabbing the rum. "You got it, Sammy."
She gulped down the Captain Morgan.
"Did you just call me Sammy?"
"Mm-hmm. What do you want?"
"Don't call me Sammy."
"You know what? Sammy? You going to call me at three in the morning, you're going to put up with whatever I decide to call you! Capishe?"
"Um... ok. Sorry."
"What the hell do you want?"
"Uh... I just... are you drunk?"
"What did you just say to me?"
"Are you drunk?"
Jayne didn't answer right away. Was she slurring? Was it really that obvious?
It didn't take long to decide she didn't give a damn. "Well, so what if I am?" she snapped at him. "It's three in the fucking morning, Samantha! Normal people are drunk at three in the morning! Or sleeping!"
"Um... right. Can I... could you put Lynn on the phone? Please?"
"No, Lynn is sleeping. You know, like normal people do at three in the morning. What the hell do you want?"
"Well... um... look, I had a... a nightmare."
Jayne didn't answer for a long time. She frowned at the George Foreman commercial.
"Jayne?"
"You had a nightmare."
"Yeah. About some guy in Saginaw, Michigan. Name's Jim Miller. He... he dies. I'm not sure when, but he gets trapped in a garage... I mean, something traps him in a garage, something invisible and... Look, can you meet us there?"
Jayne frowned harder. "You want to meet... in a place... that came out of your nightmare?"
Sam sighed heavily. "Can you please put Lynn on the phone?"
"Chill out man, I get it," Jayne grumbled into the phone, rolling her eyes. "You think you had one of those weirdo nightmares that come true?"
"Uh... yeah. How far are you from Saginaw?"
"Saginaw?" Jayne snorted. "A couple hours."
"Damn it. Look... I know it's late, but... can you please just meet us there?"
Jayne sighed this time. "Give me the address."
He rattled it off, and Jayne wrote it down. "All right," she said. "We're leaving now."
"Thanks."
Jayne hung up the phone and tossed it at her stepsister. Lynn didn't stir, so Jayne stood up - wobbling slightly - and then took several long chugs from the bottle.
She screwed the lid back on, set the bottle back on the table, and slid the notebook she'd been reading back into the bag where she and Lynn kept Russ's notes. Then she flicked on the lights, took the TV off mute, and slapped her sister's mattress.
"Wake up!" she hollered.
Lynn jumped, sitting straight up in bed, and looked around the room in confusion. "What's going on?" she asked, voice still groggy with sleep.
"Sam called," Jayne said, heading for the bathroom. "He had a nightmare, he thinks it's coming true... blah, blah, blah, we're going to Michigan."
"What?" Lynn was awake now and crawling out of bed. She stumbled a little towards her duffel bag, glancing around the room.
"Jaynie, you've been drinking."
"Yep. You're driving. Crash my baby, and I will destroy you."
"If you wanted to drink, why didn't you wake me up? I would have..."
"It wasn't that kind of drinking," Jayne muttered. She gathered up her things in her bathroom and then reappeared in the bedroom, heading for her duffel.
Lynn sighed. "We're going to Michigan?"
"Yeah. Before some dude's garage tries to kill him."
"Run that by me again?"
Jayne sighed harshly, packing her stuff carelessly. "Sam had a nightmare that some invisible entity trapped some dude in a garage and killed him. You know - one of those nightmares. He wants to go save said dude and he wants us to help. Address is on the nightstand."
She dug her keys out of her jeans and tossed them Lynn's way. Her stepsister caught them instinctively, flinching.
"You're driving."
Jayne went back to packing.
Lynn stared at her a moment, and then started packing as well.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the truck, Lynn behind the wheel, Jayne sprawled out in the passenger seat. Lynn put the truck in drive and rammed it, speeding towards the interstate.
"Don't hit a deer," Jayne said.
Lynn rolled her eyes. "You want to tell me what this is all about?"
"I already told you what I know. You want details, call your boyfriend."
"I'm not talking about the late night road trip. You want to explain to me what provoked you to play drinking games to the George Foreman infomercial?"
"I wanted to drink. Sue me."
"Jaynie, if something happened... if something's wrong..."
"Everything's fine. Unless your name is Jim Miller and you live in Saginaw, Michigan. Now, will you can it and let me sleep?"
Jayne flopped back against the seat and closed her eyes. Lynn sighed, clearly irritated.
"Fine," she said tightly.
Jayne wriggled around in the seat, leaning against the window. Her vision was blurry and her head was foggy, but she was sober enough to know she needed to sleep some of this drunk off before they hit Saginaw.
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, folding her arms around her chest. Felt herself drifting off.
Cambion.
Her eyes flew open. She stared listlessly at the dashboard.
She shouldn't have gone looking for trouble.
There were cops parked outside the Miller house by the time Janis rumbled to a stop on the side of the street. A large crowd was already gathered by the garage, watching the cops talk with the family.
Lynn stared at the crowd. Shut down the engine.
"Fuck," she whispered.
She hit Jayne's arm. Her stepsister started awake, sitting up straight in the seat.
"What?" Jayne asked.
"We're here," Lynn said. She gestured at the crowd. "Looks like we got here too late."
Jayne blinked a little, and then took a look at the Miller house.
"Shit," she sighed.
"Dean and Sam are already here," Lynn announced.
"Great," Jayne grumbled. "Let's go."
Her stepsister swung open the passenger side door and stumbled down from the truck. Lynn rolled her eyes, climbing down from the cab and hurrying around the bumper.
"Are you ok?"
Jayne shrugged her off. "I'm fine."
"You can stay in the truck."
"What's the matter?" Jayne smirked. "Am I going to embarrass you?"
Lynn pursed her lips. "I don't know. Are you?"
"I said I'm fine," Jayne retorted. "Seriously, the ride sobered me up. Can we just get this over with?"
Lynn sighed. "Yeah."
The two of them made their way towards the Impala. Dean and Sam were leaning against the old car, watching the house and the crowd.
"Hey," Lynn offered as they drew nearer.
Dean and Sam looked up at her voice. "You guys made it, huh?" Dean called.
Lynn reached the brothers, her stepsister two steps behind. "Yeah. Looks like we didn't make it here fast enough, though."
"Yeah, well," Dean said. "Neither did we."
Long silence.
"So... what happened?" Lynn asked.
Dean glanced Sam's way. Sam was staring at the ground, his hands jammed in his coat pockets.
"They're calling it a suicide," Dean told her. "Whole neighborhood is shocked, talking about how he seemed so normal... you know, the usual."
Another silence.
"So?" Jayne spoke up. "Any theories on what did it?"
Dean shrugged. "Angry spirit... poltergeist... could be anything. Hell, maybe it was really suicide."
"No it wasn't," Sam said insistently. "I'm telling you, Dean, I watched that man die. I watched the garage door shut on its own, I watched the car doors lock and the engine start... something killed Jim Miller, all right? Something invisible."
Long silence.
"Ok then," Dean finally said. "Something killed Jim Miller. But there's nothing we can do about it now. I say we get a motel room, catch a few hours sleep, and then work this out in the morning."
"I should have been able to stop it," Sam shook his head, gnawing on his knuckles. "I mean, I've got to be having these visions for a reason, right? Why would I see Jim Miller die if I couldn't save him?"
"I don't know, Sam."
"I should have been able to stop it. We should have been faster."
"Sam, you heard that woman outside the house. The guy died nearly two hours ago. There was no way!"
Sam shook his head, leaning on the Impala, elbows on the roof of the car. He fell silent.
Lynn watched him. Any other day, she'd be over there rubbing his back, trying to tell him this wasn't his fault.
Not tonight. Not after...
She knew it wasn't his fault, this whole Jim Miller mess, and she wished he would see that too. But she didn't have it in her to comfort him tonight. Not after Nebraska. Not after...
It was too awkward. It was possibly too late.
"Tomorrow we'll look into the history of the house, the property," Dean was saying. "Check out the house, see if it sparks a reading on the EMF, talk to the family."
"Dean, you saw them," Sam said. "They're devastated. They aren't going to want to talk to us."
Lynn glanced towards the Miller house. A middle-aged blonde woman wearing a bathrobe was sobbing against the chest of a balding man with a beer gut. A young man, about Sam's age, with curly blonde hair was leaning against the house, staring vacantly at the road.
He was right. They were not going to want to talk.
"Maybe you're right," Dean said. "But I think I know who they will talk to."
Lynn glanced at him. He smirked. She knew right away Dean had a bad idea up his sleeve.
"Let's just get out of here," he went on. "We'll deal with this in the morning."
Sam nodded once. Then he stalked around to the passenger side of the car, threw open the door, and took a seat. Lynn saw him hunched over, knuckles in his mouth again.
Dean sighed and shook his head. "We'll follow you," Lynn spoke up.
Dean glanced her way and nodded. Lynn headed for the truck, regretting the decision to come out here. It felt like a family thing - a Winchester family thing. For Winchesters only, for them to figure out their family issues. It didn't seem to matter that Sam's nightmares possibly had some bearing on Stephen's... Stephen's fire-starting abilities.
Her family was so fucked up.
Jayne didn't follow Lynn right away - just watched her walk towards the truck, shoulders hunched dejectedly, keys dangling from her hand.
She understood dejection right about now. She understood concern, fear, doubt.
Sam was a mess. Dean was a mess too, even if she was the only one who could see it. And Lynn had been a mess since she found that damn death certificate.
As for herself? Well, Jayne had spent the night drinking alone and reading the same page of Russ' journal over and over again.
She was still kind of tipsy.
She was obviously as big a mess as the rest of them.
"So," Dean said conversationally, leaning against the car. "Drinking alone, huh?"
She shrugged. "You know I prefer to be by myself."
He smirked. Laughed a little. "Bad news?"
"You might say that," she returned evenly. "Bad news for you too?"
It was his turn to shrug. "Yeah, well... not like Sam's weirdo visions are anything new."
"First time he's had such a random one, though."
Dean shrugged again. "Yeah."
Quiet.
"Well," Jayne said, taking a step towards her truck. "Tomorrow then."
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
She turned and started walking. She heard the Impala door open and close. She made it to the truck where Lynn was sitting in the driver's seat, the engine already running.
"I noticed you didn't have any comforting words for your boyfriend," Jayne commented dryly as she slid into the passenger seat.
"So not a good time, Jayne."
Jayne fell silent. Lynn shifted into drive. Then they followed the Impala around the crowd and down the street.
Dean's latest idea had brought both him and Sam to a whole new low.
Sam had told his brother this, but Dean seemed unconcerned that impersonating a priest could be grounds for an eternity in purgatory.
The cover worked, of course. Mrs. Miller had let them right into the living room, sat them down in the midst of the wake, gave them coffee and snacks.
Dean had made one too many over-the-top comments about God and the Lord's plan, and he'd stuffed one too many snacks into his face. It pained Sam to think what Dean was saying right now to Mrs. Miller.
But he had his own problems. Sam sat down in front of the young man by the window. He had curly blonde hair, and couldn't be much older than Sam himself. He was a little too pale, Sam observed, and his eyes had a vacant look.
His name was Max, and he wasn't really in the mood for sharing.
Sam knew how to work with this, though. It was one of his many gifts.
"What was your dad like?" he asked Max.
"Just a normal dad."
"Yeah."
This wasn't going too well.
"You live at home now?"
"Yeah. I'm trying to save up for school, but it's hard."
Long silence.
"So…" Sam said, painfully. "When you found your dad…"
Max sniffed. "I woke up. I heard the engine running… I don't know why he did it."
"I know it's rough," Sam sympathized. "Losing a parent. Especially when you don't have all the answers."
Max just nodded.
Sam began to wonder if he and Dean were going to find any answers themselves.
Lynn sighed, scrolling down through endless newspaper articles on her laptop, leaning back in the chair at the small table under the window.
"Find anything?" Jayne asked from across the table.
Lynn shook her head. "That house hasn't had bad press since it was built. You?"
"Property's clean. No graveyards, Indian burial grounds, battlefields, violent deaths, or local legends of any sort. Looks like we got ourselves nothing but a big steamy pile of normal."
"I just don't understand. If Sam really saw what he says he saw, then what the hell killed Jim Miller?"
"Got me by the ass."
They sat silently for a moment. "Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with the house or the land," she said after a while. "Maybe it has something to do with Jim Miller himself."
Lynn looked up at her sister, light bulbs going on over her head. "Right. Like something targeted him specifically."
"Or his family."
"Like witches?"
Jayne blinked. "Witches?" she repeated.
"Well, why not?"
"You trying to tell me Saginaw's gone all double, double, toil and trouble?"
"We've run up against witches before. They could be your standard issue, black magic, Satan worshipping witches... or maybe even a hoodoo practitioner."
Jayne frowned. Lynn bit her lip and looked down at her laptop. "Hoodoo?" Jayne asked doubtfully. "In Michigan?"
"Why not Michigan?"
"Well, I don't know... it's Michigan."
Lynn rolled her eyes. "White people practice hoodoo too, Jayne. Look at Deedee."
"Yeah, but Deedee works the protection arts. She's not really into spell work. And when did I mention white people?"
"It could still be hoodoo. Or witches."
"Witches. Right. Okay, we'll mark those two down on the list of possibilities. What else?"
"I don't know."
"Well... what about curses?"
"Curses? What, like Jim Miller was the last person to open King Tut's tomb?"
"Shut up. We've hit curses before. And you're the one over there with all the witch hunt talk."
Lynn sighed. "I guess we'll have to wait for Sam and Dean to get back from the Millers. See what they found out. Maybe then we can think up something that makes sense."
"Yeah."
The two of them lapsed into silence. Lynn began typing other searches into her Google toolbar, hoping to uncover new results.
"So... you heard from Rufus lately?"
Lynn looked up at her stepsister in surprise. Jayne wasn't really looking at her... she was pretending to be fascinated by the county paperwork in her hands... but Lynn saw the glances Jayne was sneaking out of the corner of her eye.
"Why would I have heard from Rufus?" Lynn asked carefully.
Jayne shrugged. "Don't know. Just thought he might have called... or you might have called him."
Lynn stared at Jayne for a moment, and then lowered her eyes to the laptop monitor. There was a long silence.
"Did you find anything else out about your mother?"
Lynn looked at Jayne again. "What do you mean?"
Jayne finally met her stepsister's eyes. "Well, you were really upset about her death certificate," she said. "But then we got all caught up in the Winchester's bullshit... you know, Dean's accident and that faith healer in Nebraska... and then you never brought it up again."
Long silence again.
"Yeah," Lynn finally said. "Rufus called. He said you yelled at him."
Jayne snorted. "He did, huh?"
"Yeah. And he told me what he knew. Or at least, what he claimed to know."
"What, you don't believe him?"
"Well, I don't know. I mean... the guy keeps lying to us. I'm starting to think..."
"Look, I don't like being lied to either. But Rufus can't help it, ok? He's just trying to do right by Russ."
Again, they sat silently.
"What did he say?" Jayne asked. "About your mom?"
Lynn shrugged. "Dad met her on a hunt."
"Well of course he did. How is that relevant?"
"Rufus says Dad was investigating some big hoodoo witch gone dark side in Brooklyn. He thinks my mom was mixed up in it somehow."
"What do you mean, mixed up in it?"
Lynn sighed harshly. "I don't know, all right? Rufus seems to think that she was practicing hoodoo, that she was messing with dark stuff... I don't know. All he could tell me for sure was that my mother died falling out of her apartment window. He couldn't even tell me if it was an accident, or a suicide, or a murder."
More silence.
"He tell you why Russ lied to us?"
"He doesn't know that either. Something about protecting us, I assume. My mother was into something dark, according to Rufus. Dad didn't want us mixed up in that. He took me in, right after I was born, right after marrying Ana. My mom died a year later."
Jayne frowned. "Russ just took you?"
"Rufus made it sound that way. But I got what he didn't say. I don't think Inez wanted me."
Another long silence.
"I'm sure that's not true."
"Don't try to be nice right now."
"I'm not! I'm just saying... I doubt she didn't want you."
"Well, I doubt that she did."
"Lynn, we don't have all the facts. Could be that Russ didn't give her much of a choice."
"Could be that whatever she was working was just a little more important to her than I was."
"Lynn..."
"Stop trying to comfort me, Jaynie. You have no idea what I'm going through right now."
They were quiet again.
"Right," Jayne said finally, snorting. "I have no idea what it feels like to know one of your parents didn't want you."
Lynn looked up from her computer. "That's not what I meant."
"My dad split on my mom," Jayne went on. "He didn't want to have me, he didn't want to know me - he split. At least you have a name, a back story - hell, an excuse. I don't even know who that asshole was."
Lynn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I know, Jayne. I didn't mean... look, your dad split, ok? And that was... uncool. And you're messed up about it, I know."
"I'm not messed up about it," Jayne snapped. "I don't care. I had a dad - your dad. I was just pointing out that you're not the only one who was abandoned. Don't give me this 'I couldn't possibly understand' bullshit."
Lynn sighed again. "But you can't. I mean... your dad split, but.. but it's more than that for me, Jaynie. My mom, she... she was messing with dark stuff. She was... she might have been one of the things we hunt. She might have been... she might have been capable of darkness, you know? And I... that would mean... I might have that in me."
A pause.
"You don't have that in you," Jayne told her. "You couldn't. If anyone here was going to go dark side, I think we all know it would be me."
"Yeah, right."
"You're way too good a person for that crap, ok? You care about people and their feelings and you try to help and... And you're not capable of darkness, all right? Let's knock that notion right now."
Lynn fell silent, staring at her keyboard. Jayne kept going.
"As for your mom? We have no idea what really happened. Even Rufus doesn't seem able to give us any real answers. None of what you just assumed is necessarily true."
"Then what is the truth?"
"I don't know," Jayne replied. "But we're going to find out."
And that was the last either of them spoke on the subject. The door swung open and in walked Sam and Dean, decked out in full blown priest's attire.
Jayne snorted. "Look. It's a walking contradiction. You two should really be in a Starburst's commercial."
"Shut it," Dean snapped.
"Find anything?" Lynn asked.
Sam sighed and shook his head. "Not so much. No one's seen anything weird, the house has no strange problems, and the EMF came up empty. You?"
"Same," Lynn said.
"Great," Dean sighed, yanking off his collar and pulling the black shirt over his head. "Now what?"
Lynn raised an eyebrow at the sight of Dean's well-sculpted arms bulging out of his wife beater. She glanced at Sam.
Sam's were better, she decided. Sam was an asshole, but his arm muscles were better.
Jayne wasn't watching the oldest Winchester's strip show. She was staring very intently at the paperwork in front of her. Lynn rolled her eyes. Her stepsister wasn't fooling anyone.
"We're thinking something targeted Jim Miller specifically," Jayne replied. "Witches, curses… who knows."
"That makes sense," Sam murmured. "Yeah. We should definitely try working that angle."
He was loosening his collar, peeling off his disguise as well. Lynn averted her eyes as he stripped down to his own wife beater and his boxers.
Maybe it was time to leave.
"Do you want us to go?" she asked as Dean dropped his slacks too. "Um… you're kind of just…"
Half naked, she finished silently.
Dean winked at her. "Nah. Stay. You know you want to."
Jayne snorted, still focused on the paper in front of her. Lynn still wasn't buying her act. "Want to what?" she asked dryly. "Lose my lunch?"
"Deny it all you want, Goldilocks. You want me."
"Nope. Not even a little."
"Lies."
Lynn focused way too hard on her laptop monitor as the banter between Dean and Jayne progressed. Sam, thankfully, had gathered a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Dean was making no attempt to cover himself. He leaned against the table, two inches from Jayne's knee, still in wife beater and boxers.
"Just give in, Goldilocks. Admit it, and I'll go easy on you."
"Ha. You want to know what I think? I think you want me."
"Oh, really. That so? Well, now it all makes sense. I knew you wanted me… and now you're twisting it around on me, trying to make your move."
"That's the lamest attempt at denial I have ever heard."
He was way too close to Jayne, and Jayne was somehow staying completely cool. Lynn eyed her stepsister enviously, wondering how the hell she did it. If Jayne didn't make a move, she was going to jump Dean Winchester.
"You know it's true," Dean smirked. "Stop trying to get in my pants; it's pathetic."
"It won't work."
"What won't work?"
"This. Reverse psychology doesn't work when the other party is on to you."
"What reverse psychology? You do want me."
"So the other way around."
"Oh, all right. You got me. Nothing turns me on more than seeing you in that ugly ass flannel shirt."
"I know. I can see it in your eyes."
"Every time I see you in it, I just want to rip it right off."
"Not exactly helping your case, Dean."
Lynn sighed harshly. "Can you two move the foreplay somewhere else? Some of us are trying to concentrate. Those of us would also like Dean to put on some more clothes."
"Aha," Dean smirked. "You both want me."
"Get dressed, you asshole."
Dean just kept smirking, ignoring Lynn's insult, and swaggered off to follow orders.
Jayne smiled at her paper.
Lynn rolled her eyes. "You two are so annoying," she hissed under her breath.
Jayne looked surprised. "Really? I think we're funny."
"No. You're annoying. Can you two just consummate already? I can't take the banter anymore; it gives me migraines."
"There will be no consummating," Jayne snapped as quietly as possible, glancing furtively in Dean's direction. "It's a joke. Nobody wants anybody."
Lynn snorted. "Yeah. Ok. Liar."
Jayne glowered at her, but Sam reappeared in the room before she could say anything. He took a seat at the table, pulled some of the papers towards him, and began frowning in concentration.
Lynn glanced at him, and then returned to her laptop, suddenly hyper-aware of the hair on the back of her neck.
Stupid Sam. Stupid Dean. Stupid Jayne and Dean. And more importantly, stupid Sam.
This was so not her day.