A/N: To the world's awesomest beta—mimishell—and to really cool fans like you guys! Thanks for sticking around despite the long waits!
Chapter 38: Why Stand We Here Idle?
Jessica eyed Sam's older brother with a knowing look, somehow guessing that Mr. Winchester's declaration wasn't going over well with the twenty-four-year-old. She may not have known Dean for long, but she'd known him long enough to know that he was fast approaching his breaking point.
While Sam and his father had, within the first few minutes of her seeing them interact, emerged as the hotheads of the family, Jessica was beginning to realize that Dean had his own brand of the Winchester temperament. Whereas John and Sam seemed to have a 'powder-keg-ready-to-blow' sort of temper, Dean was more of a ticking time bomb, she'd decided. And watching Dean's expression darken, Jessica wasn't all too sure that his wasn't just as explosive as theirs.
It's just a hell of a lot sneakier.
"Now Missouri, can you walk me through whatever it is that Braden needs to do so that we can still hit the road tomorrow? I want to get moving in case the demon can track us," John was saying, obviously not noticing the heated look on Dean's face.
"I think so, yes," Missouri told him after a moment. "Although Aubrey and Dean would probably be more helpful than you'd be. You're head-blind, Johnny—you'd be practically useless."
"Alright then. So they know what to do then?"
"Well, for the most part. Aubrey probably knows how to use the ability a bit more, but Dean's likely to know how to explain it better."
"How the hell is he gonna help? He needs a damn spirit guide just to keep him from a massive migraine."
Ouch. No that wasn't a blow to Dean's pride at all, Jess thought dryly, wincing as she glanced back at Dean. Sure enough, his face had tightened almost imperceptibly at the unintentional insult.
Not exactly Mr. Sensitivity, are you, Mr. Winchester?
"He'll manage just fine—he's got more patience than you do when it comes to teaching the younger ones, and I'm sure he'll figure it out," Missouri was saying, and honestly, Jessica wished the older woman wouldn't keep encouraging Mr. Winchester, because at this point, the two of them were only making things worse. She couldn't begin to understand the intricacies of the craziness that seemed to be happening on a daily basis, but she had to agree with Dean—opening Braden up to whatever Oliver was, whether through a ritual or mental workouts, sounded pretty damn stupid to her, too.
Not that I'm going to tell them that or anything, though. Soooooooo not getting in the middle of this.
"Alright, well, Dean, if you'll take care of that, then we'll be in a pretty good position. That actually works out pretty well, since you can do that on the road," Mr. Winchester concluded, nodding resolutely at Dean.
"Yeah, I could," Dean told him coldly, his jaw tight with barely-suppressed rage. "But I won't."
"Excuse me?"
Oh. My, Jess thought, sucking in a breath as Mr. Winchester turned, an angry, incredulous look on his face.
"You heard me," Dean threw back, his voice losing the chilled indifference in favor of a heated rage. "You wanna open him up to whatever the hell Oliver is, that's your business! You do whatever the fuck you want—you always do! But don't count on me to help you! Not on this!"
"Dammit, Dean, I need you onboard—we can't afford for you to—"
"I'm done," Dean said tightly, turning on his heel without a backwards glance, and if Jessica hadn't been watching him intently, she would have missed the slight waver in his step or the quick hand to the door frame to steady himself before he disappeared, his footsteps echoing on the stairs.
The silence reverberating through the room at Dean's refusal was telling, Jess decided. She didn't need Sam to tell her that Dean saying no to their father was an unheard of occasion in the Winchester family. No, that was pretty damn obvious.
"Shit," Sam whispered, his eyes wide as he shifted his gaze to his father worriedly.
"I thought you said Dean's temper was a little more subtle," she murmured as an upstairs door slammed hard enough to rattle the house.
"Yeah…until it's not. Like, right now," Sam muttered back.
Umm, I'd say subtlety just took a flying leap out the window, she decided when the door slamming was followed up by the sound of something decidedly breakable shattering upstairs.
"Lamp," Sam told her knowingly, and she was left to wonder just how often Sam's older brother took his anger out on poor, defenseless furniture.
"Ah, hell, John," Bobby said, reappearing in the doorway with a disgruntled expression. "Why do you hafta piss off your kids at my place? That boy of yours breaks somethin' almost every damn time ya'll visit."
"What are you bitching about? He'll pay for anything he breaks—you know he's good for it."
"You're damn right he'll pay for it—odds are good that whatever he breaks ain't gonna be cheap. But that's not the point, Johnny."
"I'll go talk to him, see if I can calm him down," Sam said softly.
"No," Mr. Winchester said instead, shaking his head. "Just let him cool off. I'd rather he vent on the furniture than on you."
"John," Missouri interjected. "Sam's right about this—Dean needs to calm down sooner rather than later, and I don't think we have time for him to do it on his own. If he stays amped up for too long, those spirits are gonna get a lot harder for him to handle. That kind of anger will only hurt his control, and there's only so much his spirit guide can do for him if his control snaps completely."
"Uh, Dad," Sam said cautiously, "from the sound of things upstairs, I'd say we're pretty close to that point."
"Alright," his father replied with a sigh. "Go."
Without a word, Sam pounded up the stairs after his older brother, and Jess took a moment to wonder why no one seemed to remember that Braden was still in the room, presently occupied by whatever freaky design he was drawing on Bobby's floor.
"Perhaps I should go up there, too," Missouri said softly, but Mr. Winchester shook his head.
"No. You two are a little too oil-and-water most of the time—you'll only antagonize him at this point."
"Um…Mr. Winchester," Jessica interrupted hesitantly, biting her lip a tad nervously as John Winchester's hard gaze was turned on her.
"What?"
"I just thought you might like to know…Braden's still drawing on the floor," she pointed out with a wince.
"Dammit, John," Mr. Singer grumbled, scowling down at the design emerging on his floor. "When he's finished, if it ain't useful, you're takin' care of gettin' rid of it."
"And if it is useful?"
"Then you owe me a damn rug to cover it with. Now if that boy of yours upstairs don't calm down soon, take care of it quick, 'cause I'm goin' to bed. If ya'll are gonna bitch at each other some more, keep it down," the older man said gruffly as he left the room.
"Shit," Mr. Winchester mumbled as Jessica watched him drag a weary hand over the beard shaping his lower jaw and chin. He sighed again before turning back to Missouri. "Missouri, go on to bed—it's late. We can figure something out tomorrow—maybe Sam'll have some luck getting Dean to get with the program."
Um, yeah, I doubt it. Sam's persuasive, sure—but not that persuasive. Stubbornness comes in spades in this family, and I don't even have to be related to know that.
Any moron could see that Dean had the same fortified-steel, mile-wide stubborn streak that the rest of them had.
Missouri seemed to share that thought, if the doubtful look on her face was anything to go by, but she didn't argue as she turned and headed upstairs.
"You should get to bed, too, Jessica," he said, eyeing Braden with an almost helpless expression that Jessica couldn't quite grasp coming from the older man. She hadn't known him for long, but he was somehow bigger than life in a lot of ways, and seeing him look so worn out was…sad.
"Mr. Winchester…maybe it's not my place, but…isn't there another way to get answers? Something that won't open Braden up to…whatever Oliver is? A way that won't upset Dean so much?"
"Jess…listen, I know you're tryin' to help, but you have to understand something here," he told her softly. "I'm not setting out to do anything that'll hurt either of my boys, but…we need answers and I'm afraid we're running out of time. Something's coming, and I don't know how to prepare for it. I tried to find out what was happening to Braden a long time ago, but I gave up on it when it didn't seem to be doing any of us any good. I let it go, and I'm realizing now that I shouldn't have. I've should've kept looking."
"Dad," Sam said, coming back into the room quietly, "I remember how it was back then—you did all you could, but there was a lot going on at the time. Dean was still recovering from all that shit with his knee and that infection, and Aubrey was a wreck. You did everything possible, but…you can't do everything, Dad."
"Maybe not. But it's hard when doing everything you can feels a whole lot like sitting on your ass doing nothing."
With a sigh, he turned and went to Braden, kneeling down to speak softly to the fourteen-year-old before he reached out and took the Sharpie from Braden's hand.
"Tomorrow, ask your brother how to get this shit off the floor."
"Fingernail polish remover," Jessica heard herself blurt out.
"What?" Sam asked at the same time as his father.
"Fingernail polish remover usually works without too much effort," she said slowly.
"Oh man," Sam breathed. "Dean's tried almost every cleaner on the market, and it still takes him forever to get Sharpie marks to come clean—to find out that fingernail polish remover works…man, he's gonna be pissed."
"Great. You can be the one to tell him," Mr. Winchester retorted as he gently pulled Braden to his feet. "Did you get him calmed down?"
"Uh, well…he made it pretty clear he didn't want me in there. I don't think I've seen him that pissed in…well…ever."
"You've been gone awhile, and he's been on a hair trigger since you took off for school."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. Did he seem alright other than being pissed?" Mr. Winchester asked, changing the subject, a deflection that Jessica was intensely grateful for, because seriously, she really wasn't up to refereeing another Winchester family squabble.
"I dunno…before he shoved me out of the room, he was rubbing at his eyes, so I think it's a pretty safe bet to say he's nursing another migraine. Not that he'd admit it or anything," Sam added.
"Shit. Alright, I'll check on him later," Mr. Winchester said as he started nudging Braden towards the door.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, the steps quick and light, so it was hardly a surprise when it turned out to be Aubrey who suddenly appeared.
"Daddy, Braden's gone," she blurted out before she'd even fully breached the doorway, her voice holding a trace of panic as she twisted the hem of her sleep-shirt in her hands. "And I don't—oh," she said, heaving a sigh of relief as she suddenly spotted him standing passively beside their father. "'m sorry, Daddy…there's too much other noise in my head—I didn't hear him get up."
"That's alright. Don't worry about it."
"Do you want me to walk him back upstairs, Daddy?"
"No, baby, I've got him. Go on back to bed."
"I would, but…well, it's kinda hard to sleep—there was the door slamming, and all the stuff getting broken, and now D's throwin' up again."
"Shit," Mr. Winchester muttered, shoving his hand through his hair with what Jess could tell was abject frustration. "Alright, I'm on my way up. Go on back to bed. Sam?"
"Sir?"
"I'm gonna get Braden to bed, but keep an ear out for him just in case he gets back up and gets past me. I don't want him making it outside—Bobby hasn't replaced his last dog, so there's nothing to alert us or steer Braden back to bed. So listen out, okay?"
"Sure," Sam said with a nod.
"You two go on to bed," Mr. Winchester went on to say, an order if Jess had ever heard one.
"Yessir," Sam said obediently, the quiet acquiescence surprising the hell out of Jess, who by now had figured out that relations between Mr. Winchester and Sam were seldom that amenable.
"Night, you two," John told them gruffly before he steered Braden toward the stairs, obviously taking Sam at his word that he'd do what he was told. Of course, the lack of argument probably had something to do with that. And all she could think was, Thank goodness.
"Hey, Sam, if you can get the couch ready, I'll go upstairs and help clean up whatever Dean broke. Your dad's tired."
"You sure you wanna do that?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," she told him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading for the stairs.
"Alright, then. I'll be up to help as soon as I get the couch pulled out," Sam called after her.
"Okay," she replied, already moving to the staircase and the chaos that was no doubt still occurring upstairs.
Two minutes later, Aubrey was holding a dustpan as Jessica swept up the remains of Dean's latest explosion. Sam had been right, of course—it was a lamp, though it had seen its last for sure. Whether he'd thrown it or simply knocked it off the bedside table, Jessica still wasn't sure, but in the long run, it really didn't matter. It was just as broken either way. Braden had fallen still, deeply asleep on a pallet of sleeping bags on the floor, and across the hall, Jess could hear Mr. Winchester talking softly to Dean, who was still heaving, though honestly, he couldn't have much left in his stomach at that point, Jessica figured.
"Damn, is he still at it?" Sam murmured, looking over his shoulder as he walked into the room.
"Yeah," Aubrey told him. "This is the worst it's been in awhile. Mitchell says it's because D's so angry that his control's shot to hell—his words, not mine. TK can't keep a lid on all of it, so D's probably got another migraine."
"Who's Mitchell, Aubrey?" Jess asked, glancing curiously up at her as the fourteen-year-old paused, shoving the tail of her braid back behind her shoulder as she looked back at Jessica with a distant stare for a moment.
"He's this guy that I hear sometimes. He's been dead awhile, I think, but he won't say how or anything. But…he says hi," she added with a mischievous grin before she turned back to the last shards of the lamp.
"Damn, Aub—you should've put shoes on," Sam said, stepping forward with a worried frown as he looked down at Aubrey's bare feet. "Here, let me do it," he told her, lifting her by the arms and depositing her on the bed before kneeling down to hold the dustpan in place for Jessica. The two of them finished up pretty quickly, and with a final goodnight to Aubrey, Sam led the way back downstairs.
"You think we should've checked in with your dad and Dean?" she asked him as she changed into one of Sam's t-shirts and a pair of plaid pajama pants she'd bought a few days before.
"Nah. Dad said go to bed, and he's just tired enough that he'd likely start bitching at me for not doing what I was told."
"You'd bitch back though," she told him teasingly, and he couldn't hide the sheepish expression on his face.
"Dad and I…it's complicated."
"What's complicated about it?" she asked as she slid under the covers on the couch. "The two of you are so alike, it's almost like you're the same person, just trapped in two separate bodies."
"I'm nothing like him," Sam argued as he slid in beside her. "He's stubborn, hot-headed, secretive, and a control freak."
"Sam, you just described yourself," she said, grinning at him before she leaned forward and kissed him. "But it's okay, baby—I love you anyway."
He chuckled softly, pulling her close, and she snuggled into his side with a contented sigh, enjoying the feel of his arms around her.
"Jess?" he murmured after a long moment.
"Hmm?" she mumbled sleepily.
"I'm sorry," he told her softly as the darkness enfolded them.
"For what?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him quizzically. "Because if this is about you keeping the whole 'my family hunts evil' thing from me, we've already talked about that—you're forgiven."
"No, that's not it. I'm talking about all of this, the shit that always seems to go hand-in-hand with my family."
"Sam, I'll be the first to admit that all of the hunting stuff is hard to take, but—"
"That's not what I'm talking about," he told her, his voice rising with frustration.
"Then, you're going to have to elaborate, because I'm not following," she told him, confused by his frustration.
"It's all of it," he said. "The yelling, the fighting, the freaky shit that always happens to us. It never ends! Part of the reason I left was because I couldn't take it anymore. And now, it's just like it was before, only now it's worse. Before, Dad and I were always at each others' throats, and if it wasn't for Dean keeping the peace, things would've been even worse. But now…it's like Dean's a totally different person sometimes. He's angry all the time it seems like—he's even taking it out on Dad! And I don't even know where to begin to deal with that! And now I've brought you into the mess and—"
"Sam," she said, laying a hand on his arm as she sat up and turned on the lamp beside them. With a sigh, Sam sat up as well, not meeting her gaze as she stared back at him intently. "Your family's going through a lot, stuff that most families never have to face. And yeah, maybe it hasn't all been smooth sailing, but I think overall, they're handling it better than most."
"You can honestly say that after having to deal with all of the fall-out, with all of the yelling and the fighting and the supernatural bullshit?"
"Yes," she said emphatically. "And despite all of the weirdness and the pee-in-your-pants terror, I love your family. Sam, I love you, and you're who you are because of them, not in spite of them. So if for no other reason, I love them for that, for making you Sam."
"But—"
"Your family might drive a girl to drink sometimes," she went on, "but I can tell they'd do anything for you. And for me, too—just because they love you. So don't ever apologize for your family, Sam," she told him vehemently.
Sam was silent, and Jess knew it wasn't because he disagreed. No, if she knew Sam, she knew he was carefully considering what she'd said.
"Yeah, you're right," he said softly after a few moments. "It's just…everything's changing…too much, too fast, I guess. And Dean's always been the steady one; hell, he's pretty much the only stability any of us had growing up. When he starts losing it…none of us know what the hell we're supposed to do."
"He's not the same person that he was, just like you're not the same person you were. Thinking that he's going to be isn't realistic, Sam. You guys just need to give him some time to figure things out."
"Well, I hope it's soon, because we need him to pull himself together. In case you haven't noticed, the rest of us don't know what to do with all the bullshit that's always going on in this family."
"Sam," she admonished, mentally shaking her head at the insensitivity in his remark. "It's not about what you or the rest of you need. It's about Dean. He's been through a lot, and I'm not just talking about these past couple of weeks—though they haven't exactly been a walk in the park, have they?" she asked him pointedly.
"Jess, I—"
"No. Now you listen to me, Samuel Winchester," she told him, vaguely aware that she was seriously channeling her mother, God rest her soul. "I think it's pretty safe to say that Dean didn't have it easy after you left for Stanford, and things sure as hell haven't gotten any easier since you and I came into the picture. Dean's doing the best he can to cope with what we all know is a shitty situation, but for you to expect him to pull it together and step back into the role he had before you left isn't fair. And the fact that you want him to do it for your sake isn't just unfair—it's downright selfish. And that is not the Sam Winchester I love. So step up and be the man I fell in love with—start helping your brother instead of taking the backseat and watching him try to handle everything by himself."
"Yeah…you're right," he murmured softly after a minute, looking down with a chagrined expression.
"Of course I am," she said, bumping into him gently. "It's part of my charm," she told him with a soft smile. Chuckling, he smiled back at her, pulling her close and laying a kiss on her temple.
"I love you," he told her, resting his cheek against the crown of her head .
"I love you, too," she told him, and the truth was, she really did. More than anything.
"Dean? You thought any more about what we talked about last night?" Mr. Winchester asked the next morning as they all settled down at Bobby's crowded kitchen table for breakfast.
And to quote every Winchester I've ever met—ah shit.
"I think it made it pretty damn clear last night where I stand on that," Dean retorted, his voice holding just enough edge that Jessica could tell Dean was no less pissed now than he was the night before.
"Yeah, but in the long run, your feelings on the issue don't really matter all that much. I just need you to make a decision, so that I can make mine. It's either my way or Missouri's way—decide."
"Ah, Dad, c'mon," Sam interrupted before Dean could reply. "It's early as hell—do we really need to get into that right now?"
"We're leaving today, Sam. I'd like some things clear before we go," Mr. Winchester replied pointedly, his sharp gaze never straying from his oldest son, who was staring mutinously back at him.
"Daddy, what are ya'll talkin' about?"
"Nothing, sweetheart."
"Oh, c'mon, Dad, let's not keep secrets here," Dean drawled, his tone thick with biting sarcasm. "Cause we all know how much that comes back to bite us in the ass. Go on, tell her the truth."
"Dean," John said lowly, and Jessica had the uncomfortable realization that things were about to turn ugly.
"Go on, tell her how you want to offer up Braden like a fucking piece of meat so you can get Oliver to answer some questions," Dean snarled, and Jessica froze, even as Aubrey's fork fell from her limp fingers, clattering onto her plate.
"Daddy, what is he talking about?"
Jessica shot a look at Braden, watching his usually stoic expression fade into fear, a look that mirrored the one on Aubrey's face.
"Aubrey, look, it's nothing you need to worry about—your older brother's talking out of his ass."
"Am I?" Dean demanded. "Then why are you trying so hard to keep it from them?"
"Dad?" Braden asked hesitantly, his hand beginning to tremble as he slowly set his fork down, his breakfast forgotten as he gazed back at his father fearfully.
"Son, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?"
"Don't tell him that," Dean said angrily. "You don't know what the hell you'll be opening him up to!"
"You know what?" John retorted hotly, "We're done here. You shut it, and you do it fast, because I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit here and listen to you disrespect me and everyone else at this table."
"Okay, let's everybody just take a breather," Jessica said softly, the hint of steel in her voice belying the gentle tone.
Because seriously, enough is enough.
"Let's just finish breakfast in peace."
Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Jess cast the evil eye at him and he settled, his gaze dropping to his plate without another word. And now that Dean had backed off, Mr. Winchester was willing to let the matter go.
Détente at last. For the moment. Because of course we all know that it's only temporary—no doubt this'll start all over again after breakfast. Just in time to give us all indigestion. Great, she thought as she went back to her breakfast with decidedly less enthusiasm.
Things didn't get any better after breakfast either, as it quickly became obvious that Dean was doing his damnedest to avoid his father and the conversation that the older Winchester was no doubt going to force. The toll it was taking on all of them was quickly becoming apparent and downright uncomfortable, and that was when Jessica decided to take matters into her own hands.
She found Dean in the junkyard after almost a half-hour of searching, the twenty-four-year-old slumped against the rusted-out side of a Volkswagen.
"Dean?" she asked softly, waiting for his eyes to open and settle on her before approaching him. "You okay?"
"Tryin' to be," he said tiredly.
"Are the voices giving you trouble again?"
"A little. TK's bitchin' at me, tellin' me I gotta calm the fuck down, but…"
"But you're still angry at your dad," she finished for him.
"Yeah."
"You wanna talk about it?" she asked him, knowing from Sam as well as her own observation that Dean wasn't the caring-and-sharing type, but feeling like it was worth a shot.
"Is Dad ready to go yet?" he asked, not surprising her in the least with the less-than-subtle deflection.
"Not quite. I think he's stalling, trying to figure out what to do. Honestly, I think he was hoping you'd give him some thoughts on it."
Dean's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he didn't reply, and Jessica sighed.
Big surprise that he's going to clam up. Emotionally repressed Winchesters—I swear, sometimes it's like talking to children. Small, socially-dysfunctional children.
"Okay, so I'm gonna give it to you straight, Dean," she told him, having finally concluded that tiptoeing around an issue in this family was tantamount to not saying a damn thing—subtle, the Winchesters were not. "It's probably none of my business, but I honestly think that you and your dad should quit bickering over this and ask Braden what he thinks. This affects him way more than the rest of you—it's only fair that you guys let him make the decision."
"That's…completely fucking reasonable," Dean muttered, obviously irritated with himself for not having come to the realization on his own. "Well shit."
"It's okay, Dean," she said with a grin, patting his shoulder sympathetically. "Sam can't compete with me, either."
She waited for him to smile in return before she climbed to her feet, using Dean's shoulder for leverage before giving it a heartfelt squeeze.
"Come inside and talk to your dad, Dean."
"Too bad there's a problem with your brilliant solution," he said, a trace of bitterness leaking into his voice as he stared up at her bleakly. "Dad's not gonna listen," Dean told her, shaking his head, and from the resignation in his tone, Jess knew he fully believed that he'd only be wasting his time.
"Well then let's make him listen."
"How the hell are we gonna do that?" he asked, his voice revealing the weariness he was no doubt still trying to hide, and something told her it wasn't a physical weariness but a mental one.
"We'll overwhelm him, of course. With your voice of reason and my good looks, I'm sure we can get him to come around," she said with a mischievous grin.
"Jess, I realize you haven't known me long, but…when have I ever struck you as the voice of reason?"
She snorted at that, because true enough, Dean was rarely the reasonable one.
The paranoid or hilarious one, sure. And even the dangerous or heroic one. But reasonable? Not so much.
"Yeah, you're right," she chuckled. "Voice of un-reason, maybe. I guess I'll have to make do with a handicap then."
"Look, Jessie," he said tiredly. "I know you think you'll be able to help, but the truth is, Dad does what he wants, and nothing you or I say is gonna change that." He stood then, shaking his head. "Shit…I need some space," he told her, moving past her with his jaw set, and Jessica sighed.
Why do they all have to be so damn stubborn? She thought as she watched him walk away. Maybe I'll have better luck with Mr. Winchester…
Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly.
"So, Mr. Winchester," Jess began with a casual indifference she didn't feel, "I've been giving this some thought…and I think I know what we should do," she told him, purposefully using the plural pronoun to include herself.
Wouldn't do for Mr. Winchester to feel cornered, now, would it?
"About what?" he asked, not looking up as he continued to finish packing one of the last of the duffel bags that were set to be loaded into one of the vehicles.
"About Braden. And what to do about the whole Oliver situation."
"Jessica," he began in what she just knew was about to be the mother of all patronizing tones. So she did what she did whenever Sam was foolish enough to use that tone with her and simply cut him off before he could continue.
If I've learned anything about Winchesters, it's to head 'em off at the pass before they build up a good head of steam. Or a wall of stubbornness. Whatever comes first.
"Okay, let's not beat around the bush here. It's pretty obvious that you're torn between Ms. Mosely's plan and Mr. Singer's ritual, and Dean doesn't look like he's going to help you come to a decision any time soon. But you're missing the obvious solution here."
"And what's that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes on her with a shrewd gaze.
"Let Braden decide. Think about it—it takes the pressure off of you to make the decision, and Dean can't really stay mad at you."
"Braden's only fourteen. This is too important to leave up to a kid."
"With all due respect, Mr. Winchester, Braden's not a kid. And sometimes, I get the feeling he hasn't been a kid in a long time. He's got a lot on him, but he's handling it. I don't think you give him enough credit," she said, keeping the rebuke in her voice gentle. "This affects him the most. You should trust him to make the decision that's best for everyone, don't you think?"
He was silent for a long time, staring back at her with an enigmatic expression on his face that she couldn't decipher, and for a second, she worried that she'd maybe overstepped her bounds a bit.
Oh, damn.
"You remind me so much of my wife sometimes," he said, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "Especially when you're telling me I'm being an ass."
"Mr. Winchester, I didn't mean—" she began hastily, desperately trying to backtrack, but he held up his hand, chuckling as he shook his head ruefully.
"'s alright. I am being an ass. Because damn if you're not absolutely right."
She remained silent as he dragged a hand over his beard worriedly before straightening up with a sigh and crossing to the doorway.
"Braden!" he hollered up the stairs. The sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs could be heard, and a moment later, Braden appeared in the doorway, and it wasn't hard to see the exhaustion in the fourteen-year-old's features.
"Sir?" he asked, casting a quizzical glance at Jessica before focusing his intense gaze on his father.
Deciding to leave the two of them to talk privately, she headed for the door, stopping to give the older man a one-armed hug before heading off to find Sam.
But as it was, she didn't have to. She was shutting the door behind her only to find him standing beside the door.
"What are you—"
"Shh!" He cut her off, reaching out and pulling her away from the door and behind him. Where the heck he'd come from was beyond her, as it seemed like less than a minute from the time Braden had come into the room, and the teen hadn't acknowledged anyone standing outside the door.
Winchester stealth—I gotta hand it to them, they're pretty good at it. Still…eavesdropping is so wrong.
"Sam!" she exclaimed, this time speaking in a whisper. "What are you doing?!"
"Eavesdropping," he muttered distractedly, as he placed his ear up to the door.
Yes, I can see that, she thought, shaking her head. And she knew it was wrong, she really did. But she really wanted to know what was going on…
So she couldn't seem to stop herself from leaning in next to Sam to listen in, too.
Honestly, we'll find out what he decides soon enough anyway, she rationalized, so really what we're doing isn't so bad…oh, who am I kidding? We're so in trouble if Mr. Winchester catches us—of course, we'll just have to be extra careful not to get caught. Hopefully, Sam's stealth is greater than his dad's, and he'll know before Mr. Winchester opens the door.
"Hey, what are ya'll doing?"
Aubrey's voice came from behind them, scaring the crap out of Jessica, but not seeming to phase Sam at all except for his shushing wave at his sister.
"Eavesdropping, shut-up," he murmured, and Aubrey frowned, coming up beside Jessica with a questioning look.
"What are ya'll eavesdroppin' on?"
"Your dad's talking to Braden about what he wants to do—a ritual of Mr. Singer's, or the plan that Missouri came up."
"What's the plan?" Aubrey whispered, and Jessica cringed inwardly.
Why the heck am I surprised that Mr. Winchester is still keeping her in the dark about this? I mean, because he's been so straightforward up until now, she thought sarcastically.
"The ritual's supposed to let us talk to Oliver again. Missouri's idea involves working with Braden to teach him how to sort of switch control without it being so much of a fight. At least, that's what I think it is."
"Guys, shut-up," Sam whispered suddenly, and Jessica turned back to him with an annoyed look, smacking his arm.
But she shut-up, putting her ear back to the door and scooting closer to Sam to give Aubrey room. With a quick grin, Aubrey slid in next to her, and together they all quieted their breathing to hear.
"So Jessica thinks I should leave the next step up to you," Mr. Winchester was saying, and obviously, they hadn't missed much despite the whispered explanation to Aubrey.
"What do you mean?" Braden asked warily.
"Bottom line: we need to talk to Oliver and there aren't too many options."
He quickly outlined both plans, and for a long moment, Braden didn't say anything. Jessica looked at Aubrey, wondering if she would be able to offer any insight into what her twin might decide to do. But Aubrey obviously didn't have any more of a clue than the rest of them as she frowned worriedly at the door.
"I wanna do both," Braden said finally, and Jessica cast a look at Sam, trying to judge what he thought of Braden's announcement. But Sam's face didn't reveal anything of what he was thinking, which annoyingly meant she was going to have to interrogate him later.
"Uncle Bobby's ritual will give us some answers now," Braden was saying, "but Missouri's idea will make things easier later. I wanna know what the hell Oliver's all about, but I wanna learn how to control it— I can't even freakin' sleep without worryin' that Oliver's gonna 'jack my body. So let's do this ritual thing."
"You sure that's what you want?" Mr. Winchester asked, and it surprised her, honestly, because she thought for sure he'd really push for the ritual. Apparently, it surprised the hell outta Sam, too, as he looked back at her incredulously. "Dean thinks Bobby's ritual is a bad idea. I'm not saying that I agree with him, but I think it's something you need to consider before you make a decision."
"Dad…I know he's worried, and… I don't wanna make him worry any more than he already does, but…I need to do this."
"Alright. Let's do it, then."
Apparently, once John Winchester came to a decision about something, he wasn't one to sit on his ass. Within ten minutes of talking to his youngest son, Mr. Winchester was yelling for Dean, obviously ready to get started with whatever plan Braden had decided upon. But after just a few short minutes, it became obvious that Dean wasn't back in the house yet. Unfortunately, it quickly became obvious that he wasn't outside of it either.
See, what Jessica hadn't understood earlier was that when Dean had claimed he needed space, what he really meant was that he was planning to take off. Without telling anyone.
Because nothing in the Winchester family could ever be easy.
Sadly, it took them way too long to figure out that the Impala was gone. By the time it registered, Mr. Winchester was equal parts pissed off and worried. And unfortunately, Dean wasn't answering his phone at the moment, either.
"Where the hell would he go?!" Mr. Winchester roared as he paced the floor for what Jess was sure was the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes.
"Have you tried a bar?" Braden asked nonchalantly as he carefully examined one of the wheels on his skateboard.
"Dude, it's 12:30 in the afternoon," Sam pointed out, shaking his head.
Yeah, so much for Mr. Winchester's plans to leave this morning, Jess thought dryly as she glanced at the clock.
"So? What does that have to do with anything?" Braden was asking, and Jessica couldn't be sure, but she suspected there was just a hint of a challenge in the seemingly innocuous question.
"So it's a little early to start drinking," Sam told him pointedly. "He wouldn't be at a bar at this time of day."
"He might," John muttered, frowning darkly.
"What?"
"He's been edgy lately," John said, dragging his hand down his face in a gesture that Jessica had started to become pretty familiar with at this point. "Before all this shit with the voices, I mean. He's been drinking more."
"Daddy, he wasn't drinkin' that much—you're exaggeratin'. It was that one time, and it was only 'cause he was tired and you weren't home to help. He wouldn't be out there gettin' drunk," Aubrey said staunchly, and Mr. Winchester sighed.
"So where would he go then, Aubrey?" Mr. Winchester went on to ask, quirking his eyebrow at his only daughter.
"How should I know?" Aubrey replied with a shrug. "He doesn't fill me in on that sort of thing. Which is good, probably, because the things Dean does in his free time isn't likely something I wanna hear," she finished with a shudder, even as Sam laughed and Braden snorted in amusement.
"Trust me, sis, you totally don't," Braden said with a crooked smile.
"Can we stay focused here?" John barked suddenly, his face dark with barely repressed frustration. "Dean's gone who-knows-where, and we don't have time to sit around with our thumbs up our asses here!"
"Dad, I'll find him alright?" Sam told his father, already reaching for the keys to John's truck.
"I'll go with him," Jessica said softly, grabbing her coat and leaving the twins to handle their father.
That's about all I can do…Not that I'm likely to be much help to Sam either. It's not like I know where Dean would go.
Still, at least by going with Sam, she'd feel like she was actually contributing…
In the end, they found Dean exactly where Braden had suggested they would. It was actually Jessica that noticed the Impala sitting in the back corner of the parking lot at some run-down bar with a sign so old it was illegible.
"Son. Of. A. Bitch," Sam grumbled as he turned into the parking lot. "He'd better hope he's not drunk, because if he is, Dad's gonna kick his ass. After he tears him a new one for taking off in the first place."
As they walked in, Jessica blinked in the sudden dimness, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the lack of decent lighting that all bars seemed to share, as Sam moved on ahead. Following along behind him, she caught sight of Dean a moment after Sam did. The twenty-four-year-old was sitting alone in a dark booth in the corner, and to Jess, it seemed like the perfect set-up for a scene in an old movie.
All Dean needs is a trench-coat and a fedora, and he'd have the whole 'angsty film noir detective' thing going for him.
She snickered at the thought as she and Sam slid into the bench-seat across from Dean, Sam eyeing the bottle of PBR on the table critically.
Dean sighed as Sam opened his mouth, dropping his head back wearily at what he obviously recognized as his younger brother gearing up for a talk that Dean would no doubt classify as a 'chick-flick moment.'
"You alright?" Sam asked softly.
"'m fine."
Sure you are. Which is why you're sitting in a bar at two in the afternoon. Dean, you're a sweetheart, but you need to work on your lines, 'cause no one's buying that one.
"Really?" Sam asked dryly, eyeing Dean with a disbelieving quirk of his eyebrow.
"That's what I said, didn't I?" Dean snarled back, obviously not taking too kindly to his brother's skepticism.
The raised eyebrow probably didn't help ease that any, Sam.
"Yeah? Then how come you're getting wasted at 2:00 in the afternoon?" Sam retorted, and Jessica winced outwardly.
Okay, sure I was thinking it, but I never would've actually said it.
"I'm not getting wasted—it's one fucking drink, Sam. Count it yourself," Dean threw back, gesturing angrily at the bottle as he glared back at Sam.
It's sad that I already know where this is heading. We don't have time for the usual knockdown, drag-out that this is no doubt going to become.
"Alright, dammit!" Jessica said, surprising even herself as she slapped her hand down on the table. They froze, staring back at her with identical dumbfounded expressions. "I swear you Winchesters are the most argumentative people I've ever met in my life. I think you all just walk around in a perpetual state of readiness, just waiting for someone to piss you off so you can yell and bitch at each other."
"Hey!" Sam began, but one look from her was enough to quell whatever argument he was about to make. Or attempt to make.
Now talk to him, Sam.
But obviously, Sam wasn't getting the message, as he huffed and looked away, scowling. A subtle kick under the table was enough to get his attention, though, and after a moment of staring pointedly at him and cutting her eyes at Dean, he finally quit with the disgruntled expression and figured it out.
Clueless. Absolutely clueless sometimes.
"So…um…look. Dad's worried," Sam began hesitantly, and Jess really had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands at his less-than-stellar start. Dean reacted before she could though, scoffing at Sam with disbelief tinged with bitterness.
"More like pissed off, Sammy—'m not an idiot. Hell, I've been with Dad longer than anybody. I know better than anyone how he reacts to anyone fucking with his plans."
"Yeah, well then you also know that Dad's 'worry' is pretty indistinguishable from his 'pissed off.' He is worried, dude. And deep down, I think you know that, 'cause hell, it wasn't that long ago when you were giving me this speech."
"So what do you want me to do, Sam?" Dean demanded, staring back at his younger brother with a challenging look.
"Come home with us," Sam replied softly. "We need you, man."
"Dad doesn't need my help deciding what to do, because he already knows what he's gonna do," Dean sneered. "And he sure as hell doesn't need my help with whatever fucked up ritual he's already got planned."
"He let Braden decide, Dean," Jessica interjected quietly.
"What?"
"He left it up to Braden to decide."
Dean was silent after that, his fingers peeling the label off the beer bottle in front of him as he took a moment to process what she'd revealed to him.
"What did he decide to do?" Dean asked finally, the sudden question startling her after his long silence.
"He wants to go ahead with the ritual first, but he wants to learn how to control it, too," Sam answered. "But he really wants you there for the ritual."
"Why does he want me there? 's not like I can help. Hell, if anything, I'm more likely to fuck it up like I did the last one. And as for the training shit, I'm pretty damn worthless on that front, too—he'd have better luck with Aubrey, 'cause I for damn sure can't control this without a fuckin' spirit to do it for me."
"C'mon, Dean—you're underestimating yourself. You're the closest thing to stable that any of us have. I mean, you practically raised me, and for sure you've logged more babysitting time for the twins than Dad and I combined. Sure, Dad was around sometimes—definitely more once the twins came—but not one of us has any doubts that you're the one we can rely on for everything. Always. Even when we fuck up. So a better question would be, why wouldn't Bray want you there?"
Well said, Sam, Jess thought, smiling softly at Sam as she slid her hand into his, twining her fingers with his.
And apparently, it was enough for Dean as well, because without another word, Dean nodded resolutely and stood, shrugging into his coat as he dropped a few bills on the table and headed for the door.
"Nice job," Jess whispered to Sam as they fell into step behind Dean. Sam smiled down at her, throwing his arm around her shoulders and hugging her close for a second.
The parking lot was still mostly empty as they headed for the edge of the parking lot where the Impala and the GMC were waiting.
"So did you really only have the one drink?" Sam asked Dean as the older Winchester opened the driver's side door of the Impala.
"Yeah. I wasn't here long enough for more than that."
"Dude, you've been gone for hours, and I've seen you put back a beer in, like, ten seconds. And you're telling me you weren't there long enough to have more than one drink?"
"I wasn't here all that time," Dean said as he slid into the car and moved to shut the door.
"Where were you then?" Sam asked him, catching the door before Dean could shut it. "Because Jess and I have been driving all over town looking for your ass, and this is the first place we saw any sign of you. And Sioux Falls isn't that big."
"I had an errand to do."
"An errand? Seriously? What could you possibly have to do here?"
"I didn't say I was in Sioux Falls, did I?" Dean retorted, the good mood that had returned inside the bar disappearing as quickly as it had arrived.
Not surprising, considering how much he's been on that hair-trigger that Mr. Winchester mentioned… But still, it's only making things worse, since Sam'll no doubt respond in kind.
"Are you shittin' me?" Sam asked incredulously.
Yep. Case in point.
"Have you lost your damn mind?" Sam continued, "With all the shit's that been going down, you're gonna leave town to do who-knows-what without telling anyone? I mean, what the hell is so important that you'd just take off without telling any of us?! When we've got a demon after us?!"
"How about my fucking sanity? That important enough for ya'?" Dean responded belligerently. "I promised this dead chick Cheryl that I'd take care of something for her, and in exchange, she'd leave me the fuck alone and move on! So why don't you back the hell off already?! I'm twenty-four years old—if I wanna fuckin' leave for awhile, I don't need anyone's permission."
"Okay, fine," Sam told him, throwing his hands up in a conciliatory fashion, even as Jessica sighed. "Shit, Dean, lighten up—it's like you're channeling a teenage girl or something—you're too damn touchy these days."
"I'm touchy? That's rich coming from you," Dean retorted hotly.
"Guys!" Jessica interrupted, well aware that this would only escalate. "Listen," she said, softening her tone a bit. "Everyone's waiting for us back at the house. We don't have time for this now."
Dean stared at her for a second, and Jessica wondered if he was about to argue with her, but then his face softened and he aimed a familiar smirk at her.
"Or we could do this now and stall Dad for a little longer," he suggested, a mischievous gleam in his eye that Jess had no doubt had led to trouble for nigh on twenty years now.
"Dream on, dude," Sam replied with an answering grin, and Jessica could only shake her head. Brothers. She'd never really quite get it.
"Yeah, you're right," Dean said with a sigh. "Now let go of my door, bitch—'s like you said, we better haul ass or Dad's gonna be pissed. Well, more pissed than he already is."
And that quickly, she mused, Dean was okay. Or at least as okay as he could be under the circumstances. A moment later, Sam was holding the passenger-side door of his father's massive truck open for her, and as she climbed in and they followed Dean out of the parking lot, it seemed like everything was alright. And even if it was only an illusion, right then, that was enough.
A/N: Yes, fingernail polish remover does get rid of Sharpies. I have experimented with it myself—took it right off of a notebook. Heh. Anyways, thanks everyone for your awesome patience and your wonderful feedback!
irishgirl9: I'm not sure yet if TK's backstory will ever surface. TBH, I don't know that I've given his past much thought. I'm open to suggestions on that front, if you have something in mind that you'd like to see. I can't make any promises, as I'm not sure yet where things are going, but I will definitely try. Thanks for the review!
ohgravitysonfire: Dude, you totally nailed the mental image of TK that I was trying to put across. Thanks so much for letting me know! I had a good time putting their dialogue together—they've got an easy relationship, so it flows easily. Hope you liked the Jess chapter. Thanks for the review!
rholou: Oh ye, of little faith. LOL! Just kidding. If you'd really like to know whether TK is trustworthy or not, I don't mind telling you. Drop me a PM if you're that curious, and I'll message you back.
whereinthewrld: So glad to hear that you liked the last update! It always makes me feel good when someone says that everyone was in character. I worry sometimes about Jess, since she wasn't in the show long enough for us to get a good sense of her. Sort of makes it tricky to mesh her in with everyone else. I'm also happy that you like TK—he's making my Dean chapters even more fun to write! Anyways, thanks for the review!
zuimar: You know, I have got to do better at updating my profile page—I forget to put my latest progress up, so you've no doubt been wondering what the crap I've been doing lately. I haven't been twiddling my thumbs, I promise! Glad to hear you like TK—I might have to start a TK-fan club—LOL! Anyways, I've got progress to report, if you haven't seen it on my profile page already—I have another one-shot up, if you haven't read it yet, and I've got about 11 or so pages of Chapter 39 written. YAY! Anyways, thanks for the review!
stoic81: You know, you're not the only one to ask about TK's backstory. I'll tell you what I told irishgirl9—I didn't necessarily have plans to write anything about TK's past (haven't even thought about it, actually), but if you have something in mind that you'd like to see, I can certainly consider it and see if I can fit it in. I can't promise anything, but I can play around with it. Anyways, hoped you liked Dean's 'meltdown,' even though most of it was 'off-stage,' so to speak. Thanks for the awesome review!
Yohko Bennington: Glad to hear I have another TK fan! Sorry I left you hanging so much last time. Hopefully this wasn't the same kind of cliffy. Thanks for reviewing!
WastedJamie: This is your favorite fanfic?! Really?! That's so awesome!! Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too! Thanks for the lovely review!
xXxFailingDreamsxXx: Haven't given up on it yet, so no worries. It just takes me awhile to write a chapter, because I like them long. Hope you'll stick with me!
justme09: Aww, you read the whole thing in one day?! That's a great compliment—thanks so much! Hope you'll let me know what you thought of this chapter! Thanks for dropping me a line!
courtneyun: Aww, you say the nicest things! While the next chapter is a John chapter, I have no doubt there will be another Dean and TK chapter soon. The two of them are too fun not to write another chapter for, so while I can't say when, I can definitely say it's coming. Sorry I left you waiting on the edge of your seat (bed) for so long! Hope it was worth it!
AJ2951: Your review made me smile! That's okay about not reviewing lately—I totally know what it's like to be busy, so no worries! You know, one day, I should do a poll of everyone's favorite character—I'd be interested in seeing who comes in first place. Anyways, thanks for dropping me a line! Take care!
PRACK: YAY, you're back!! I know we've already chatted since you sent me this, but I couldn't not send you a response! Okay, so in your review, you said you were loving Jess—you'll have to let me know what you thought of her after reading her chapter. You're sweet to say she's believable! Anyways, talk to you soon!