Chapter 38

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. My pulse drummed in my head. I squeezed my eyes closed and opened them, spotting Dean's dresser in the near darkness. Across my waist, his arm held me up against his body. I was the little spoon. My mouth was dry and I needed water. I must have passed out. I patted and realized that I had slept in my clothes again. I hate sleeping in my clothes.

I lifted Dean's hand off my hip and laid it on the bedspread, then eased myself to sitting. Fuck. I needed water, electrolytes, ibuprofen. I needed to stop drinking. In the dim light of Dean's bedroom, I saw he was fully dressed, too. We both must have been really drunk. Usually when that happens, we wake up naked. We must have been really, really drunk.

I crept out of Dean's room, down the tiled hallway, my ears ringing. I started to remember men dropping in front of me, dead at my feet. I tried to push the nightmares out of my head. The smell of coffee grew stronger. As I entered the kitchen, Sam stared up at me from his laptop, his face grave with concern. "Morning, Jane. How are you feeling?"

"Morning, Sam," I responded as I moved toward the sink, grabbing a glass and gulping down water. "Hungover," I muttered.

He nodded with a half-smile, then returned his eyes to the screen in front of him.

"Looking for a case?" I asked as moved toward the coffee pot, then emptied it into a red-rimmed cup.

"Um, kind of, not really," he replied nervously.

I leaned against the wall across from him and watched the steam rise out of my cup. I closed my eyes and drew my hand across my face. "Do we have any ibuprofen?"

"Jane," Sam began.

"Yeah," I opened my eyes and watched him turn the laptop toward me.

"The Kansas City Police released a statement today."

I stepped toward the table and leaned over, silently reading the headline on the screen. "FIVE MEN DEAD IN CASEY SUBDIVISION, CDC INVESTIGATING."

Sam continued, "They are reporting that an anonymous tip led them to a vacant neighborhood where they found the victims."

NOT A DREAM. NOT A NIGHTMARE. The beige sided house. Oh God. What did I do? WHAT DID I DO?

"There was no sign of struggle or physical trauma to any of the men…" Sam added.

My fingertips touch the polyester suit jackets. Lifetimes pass through me. I am euphoric. I am the bringer of peace.

His tone became more accusatory as he turned the laptop around and began to read. "The Jefferson County Medical Examiner notified the CDC who took over the investigation. CDC Regional Director Owen Moore reports they are waiting for toxicology reports to rule out poisoning. The subdivision, owned by real estate developer Sam Casey, is still under construction and no other residents in Kansas City are believed to be affected."

THUD. The body collapses in front of me. I killed him. I killed them all of them.

The cup fell from my hand, shattering on the floor. The hot coffee splattered and burned my feet. I stood frozen, unable to move, unable to feel.

Sam frowned at the broken cup, then cleared his throat. He stared into my eyes, questioning me, no longer a friend, but a hunter. "How did you kill them, Jane?"

My voice caught in my throat. "I don't know," I gasped, then began to plead. "Crowley said… I had to kill them. You were coming for me. I had to kill them. They would have killed you, Sam. I had to kill them or they would have killed Dean. They were all armed. They held me hostage for days. I had to kill them before they killed you and Dean. You were coming. I had to."

Sam closed the laptop. "Look, I know why you did it," he excused. "But I don't understand how."

OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK. "Crowley said that if I could heal, then I could kill and you and Dean were on your way and so I tried. I tried to save you both. And I did," I defended myself.

"How, Jane?" He repeated firmly.

OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT. "You were coming and I had to try and I reached out and I wanted him dead and there in front of me he died, Sam. He died just by me reaching out and touching him."

"'You 'wanted' him dead? And killed him by 'touching him?'" Sam clarified.

"I don't know how and I had been there for so long and Crowley said I would have to choose between healing you or Dean and I did it." It's over. It's all over. This is where it ends, where my story ends. "I don't know how," my voice caught in my throat. "And I don't know what kind of a thing I am. And I'll go. I'll leave—"

Sam interrupted me, "You don't have to go, Jane."

I cut him off, "You can't tell Dean." I panicked, my heart rate racing. "You can't tell him, Sam. He can't know. He will kill me," I begged.

"Dean won't kill you," Sam argued, shaking his head.

"Yes, he will. I remember. I remember Dubuque, don't you, Sam? Don't you remember how angry he was at that Amazon who used him, that monster? I'm that monster, Sam."

Sam's voice hardened. "You're not a monster, Jane. He won't hurt you."

I sighed. "Yes, he will Sam. Dean will kill me."

The sleepy voice behind me asked, "Why would I kill you, Jane?" I turned around to see Dean in the grey robe. He looked puzzled.

"Because I drank the last of the coffee," I answered, keeping my eyes on Sam. "And I broke a coffee cup."

"So?" Dean grumbled, "I'll make more coffee. And it's just a cup." He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed the empty carafe, and made a wide arc around the spilled coffee, refilling the glass pitcher under the tap, eyeing Sam and me suspiciously.

My head throbbed. The ring in my ears roared.

I found a roll of paper towels on a shelf and hurried to mop up the wet, shattered, ceramic mess. Dean didn't seem as hungover as me, just sleepy. He muttered to Sam about whatever case he was looking up on the laptop and Sam lied that he was just checking his email. "We're hunters. Who the hell is going to email us, Sammy?" Dean argued.

Sam turned his head dismissively. "No one, just spam, e-newsletters."

"What the hell is an 'e-newsletter'?" Dean asked, looking offended.

"It's like a newspaper, but online…just…nevermind," Sam shook his head.

I wiped the coffee up off the floor and tossed the paper towels in the trash. "I'm going to go take a shower," I announced and left the room.

Not a dream. Not a nightmare. It really happened. I really did that. I really killed them.

I soaped. I scrubbed. The death still clung to me. I couldn't escape it. It wasn't fair of me to stay with them. I would have to go. If I did it again, if others were at risk, Sam would end me. He was good. He could do it. Should I stay?

I toweled off in the shower room and slid on another grey robe. How many did the Men of Letters have? It was like a dismal, scholarly Playboy club, no stunning women in bunny costumes, just dust bunnies under musty library shelves, stories full of grisly ghosts instead of sultry erotica.

In Dean's room, I pulled a pair of my blue jeans from Dean's dresser and stretched a burnt red t-shirt over my head, dressing quickly. Knock knock knock. "Jane? It's Dean. Can I come in?"

"It's your room," I answered, sitting on his bed.

The door creaked open. He sat beside me on the mattress. "I owe you an apology," he admitted, lowering his head before meeting my eyes.

"No, you don't. It happened. We didn't know. I sneaked out of the motel room and I was taken. It's not on you," I dismissed.

Dean nodded. "No, that's not what I mean. I put something in your coffee. And, it was decaf," he stammered. "I put painkillers in it to make you sleep. You needed to sleep. It'd been days. I was worried."

I suddenly remembered the blur as I slid off my seat in the kitchen.

I stood and cursed at him in disbelief, "You fucking gave me decaf? And drugged me?"

"Look, you weren't going to sleep otherwise. It was either that or knock you over the head," Dean defended himself.

I stared at him. "So, the choice was either drug me or assault me? You know how fucked up that is, right?" I stormed out of his room, down the chilly hallway.

"Jane!"

Instead of letting me go, he followed me out into the garage.

"Just leave me alone!" I yelled at him.

I opened Marie's door and leaned into the car, then frantically searched the seats and glove box for a pack of cigarettes. Have I smoked them all? Did Dean throw them away?

I felt a hand on my shoulder, I stood up, spun around and screamed, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Dean took two steps back, his arms up in surrender. He took a breath. He swallowed and glanced at the concrete floor before meeting my eyes. "Did they…did they hurt you, Jane?" He stuttered. "I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, it's okay."

"Of course, they hurt me," I spit back. "Have you seen my face? I look like a corpse." I slammed the door of my car. "

"No, I mean, did they hurt you." He clarified, his voice calm and assured.

OH.

I paused before I spoke. "They didn't hurt me," I answered, using the same inflection. "At least, I don't remember them hurting me."

"Just with the three showers a day and you insisting no one touches you," he lowered his head. "I was sure that one of them hurt you."

I turned my head. "They didn't. Not that I remember."

Dean's head fell.

He had his arm around me when I slept. He just put his hand on my shoulder. He's still standing. He isn't dead. I took a step toward him and reached out to him. I flinched as I felt his fingertips.

Dean studied my hand holding his. He met my eyes and eased me closer to him, then wrapped his arms around me.

I closed my eyes and exhaled.

"You don't have to say anything. You don't have to explain," he assured me.

"You let me sleep in my clothes," I mumbled. "You slept beside me in your clothes."

Dean pulled away from me, looking down at me with his hands on my shoulders. "Wasn't that okay? I didn't want to wake you up."

I cleared my throat and spoke in a whisper, diverting my eyes from his. "Whenever I would wake up after healing someone, I would be in silky nightgown, tucked into my bed. The men had taken my clothes off and dressed me again, but I don't remember anything else. I don't know what they did with me. You let me sleep in my clothes." I looked back up at him.

For a second he stood there speechless, pain on his face. "Shhh." He pulled me closer. "Whatever happened, you're here now. I'm here and you're safe."