Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to angeleyenc, ColtFan165, Terry, SevenYearsLong, Nelle07, kazza03, AshlynPaige92, MythsndLegends, BlueEyedPisces, Alicja w Krainie Czarow, close your eyes, weirdstar007, skm228 Lov3good, and SPN Mum for all the reviews!


Chapter 57: Salvation

Jayne stood in the corner of the Winchester's motel room, her arms folded across her chest, and let her eyes rove over the clippings and drawings and torn book pages tacked to the walls. It was early morning, gray light seeping in through the partially closed blinds over the one window. Sam was leaning on the sink under that window, Lynn was sitting on the very edge of one of the two beds, John was seated at the desk on the far wall, and Dean stood behind his father, eyes fixed on the older man.

They were in a town called Manning, Colorado, three hours away from the town where they'd found the vampires. It had only been yesterday that they'd hunted those vampires and recovered the Colt revolver, and already the five hunters were getting down to business – business being hunting down and killing the demon.

Most of the stuff tacked to the walls had come from John's research, but some of it was from Russ's journals. Russ had done a lot of work tracking the thing, but John had done even more. Both hunters had uncovered similar things – before the fires, there had been signs that a demon was coming.

"So this is it," John was saying now, gesturing to the walls. "This is everything I know." All four of them stared at John, who paused only briefly in his narration. "Look, our whole lives I've been searching for this demon – not a trace. Just nothing… until about a year ago. That's when I picked up a trail."

"That's when you took off," Dean said.

That's when Steve first disappeared, Jayne thought, but she said nothing out loud.

"Yeah," John agreed, looking down at the desk. "The demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation."

"All right," Dean said. "So what was this trail you found?"

"Starts in Arizona," John explained. "New Jersey, then California. Houses burned down to the ground."

"North Carolina," Jayne spoke up. Everyone stared at her. "Did the trail take you to North Carolina?"

John stared at her a moment before slowly nodding. "Yeah, Winston-Salem."

"That's where Steve was," Lynn breathed. "When he left…"

"There were signs there," Jayne pushed on. "Cattle deaths… temperature fluctuations…. electrical storms… did these things happen before all those fires?"

John nodded. "Yeah. It took me a while to see the patterns, but once I did, I went back and checked and…"

He trailed off, staring at the ground. "You're saying this happened in Lawrence," Dean said.

John nodded again. "In the week before your mother's death."

Just like in Coventry, Jayne added silently. John looked away from Dean and turned his eyes on Sam.

"And in Palo Alto," he said. "Before Jessica."

Jayne glanced at Sam, who was staring at the floor with a distant, anxious expression. He gripped the sink behind him so hard his knuckles whitened. "These fires," he said through gritted teeth. "Did they…"

"The thing's going after families," John cut him off, agreeing with whatever unspoken thought had been about to leave Sam's mouth. "Just like it went after us."

Sam looked up at his father with sudden understanding. "Families with infants?"

"Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday."

Sam's eyes widened. "I was six-months old that night?"

"Exactly six months."

Jayne watched Sam's eyes land searchingly on Lynn. Her stepsister nodded in response to Sam's silent question. "Steve too," she murmured.

Sam's face tightened. "So basically this demon is going after these kids for some reason." He huffed bitterly. "Same way it came for me?"

John looked away, his finger rubbing his lip. "So Mom's death?" Sam pushed. "Jessica? It's all because of me?"

Jayne glared determinedly at the floor, folding her arms tighter around herself, hating the insinuation. Lynn was giving Sam this stupid, sad look, with her eyes all wide and pitying. But Dean rounded on his brother almost angrily. "We don't know that, Sam."

"Oh, really?" Sam snapped, shoving himself off the sink. "Because I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean!"

"For the last time, what happened to them is not your fault!"

"Yeah, you're right, it's not my fault, but it is my problem!"

"No, it's not your problem, it's our problem!"

"Ok," John said, getting to his feet. "That's enough."

Jayne trained her eyes on John, who was coming around the desk, his eyes on the floor. Dean had his arms folded across his chest and was on the verge of pacing. Sam returned to his place by the sink, but he didn't look any less upset. Lynn stood up off the bed, taking a hesitant step towards him, but stopped in her tracks when the youngest Winchester flew into another outburst. "So why's it doing it? What does it want?"

John shook his head. "I wish had more answers. I do. But I've always been one step behind it. Look, I've never gotten there in time to save…"

He trailed off, swallowing. Jayne almost felt a twinge of sympathy for the older man. Everyone got quiet again. Jayne made eye contact with Dean, who only looked her way for mere seconds before dropping his eyes awkwardly to the desktop. "All right, how do we find the thing?" Dean asked. "Before it hits again?"

John took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before looking up and meeting his son's eyes. "The signs are starting again," he explained.

"Where?" Sam demanded.

"Salvation, Iowa."


The road into Salvation, Iowa was long and winding, wrapping around patches of forest and farmland. Sam sat back in the passenger seat of the Impala, chewing nervously on his knuckles as he stared out the windshield at the back bumper of his father's giant truck. He was feeling anxious, his stomach turning with anticipation. They were so close to finding the demon.

The sky was dark with stormy gray clouds, and it was raining relatively hard, little drops hitting the windshield and dampening the road. Dean had his usual rock music playing on the radio, but it was turned down low, so it could barely be heard over the rain. Sam glanced into the side mirror outside his window, checking out the gray truck following close behind them.

Dean had been relatively quiet the whole time they'd been on the road. His jaw was tight and tense, and his finger kept flexing against the steering wheel. Sam wanted to ask him how he felt about all this, but somehow he felt like that conversation wouldn't end well, so he said nothing.

"Damn it," Dean said suddenly, eyes on their father's truck. "What the hell is he doing?"

Sam looked up to see his father pulling off onto a small turnabout at the side of the road. Dean swerved in after him, and the truck followed behind the Impala. All three vehicles braked jerkily, and their engines cut out with little warning.

He clambered out of the car, frowning in confusion. John leapt down from the cab of his truck and slammed the door behind him. "Damn it!" he exploded, smashing his fist against the side of the truck.

Dean slammed his door too. "What is it?"

The rain was misting against Sam's skin, dampening his coat and instantly soaking through his hair. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Lynn and Jayne climbing out their truck and drawing nearer to hear what was happening.

"Son of a bitch!" John spat.

"What is it?" Dean demanded again.

"I just got a call from Caleb," their father explained.

"Is he ok?" Dean asked.

"He's fine," John replied. "Jim Murphy is dead."

Sam's stomach tightened uncomfortably. "Pastor Jim?" John nodded in confirmation. "How?"

His father looked pained as he replied. "Throat was slashed. He bled out."

Again, Sam's stomach clenched. He'd had fond memories of Pastor Jim. Whenever John was hunting and there was no one left to take care of him and Dean, Pastor Jim had always stepped up to the plate. Shaking his head, he looked up at Dean, and saw similar distress crossing his brother's face.

"Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place," John went on.

"A demon," Dean murmured. John stared at him expectantly. "The demon?"

John shrugged. "I don't know."

Sam sucked air in through his teeth and glanced behind him at Jayne and Lynn, who were listening to every word the Winchesters were exchanging. Lynn made eye contact, her eyes big and full of sympathy. Jayne… well, her face was blank. Sam couldn't read her to save his life.

His father was still shaking his head. "Could be he just got careless," he was saying. With every word, he talked faster, sounding panicked and helpless. Sam didn't care for it – his father never sounded that way. "Just slipped up…" He breathed out, and shook his head again. "Maybe the demon knows we're getting close."

Sam shook his head too, looking back at the Nissan. Lynn was leaning on the front of the truck, her fingers playing nervously with the strings on her coat. They made eye contact again, and Sam bit his lip. Lynn took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Still no reaction out of Jayne.

"What do you want to do?" Dean demanded. He had yet to take his eyes off their father.

"Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up to cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week."

"Dad," Sam protested. "That's going to be dozens of kids. How the hell are we going to know which one is the right one?"

"We'll check them all, that's how," John retorted.

Silence descended on the group. Sam shuffled uncomfortably by the Impala, and Dean glanced back at him. Lynn made eye contact with Sam once again, her own misgivings plain on her face. Jayne looked down at the dirt.

"Well, you got any better ideas?" his father asked in the face of everyone's doubt.

Sam swallowed, glancing around at the others. They all looked equally lost. "No, sir," he said.

John nodded and headed back to his truck. Dean marched back to the Impala too, and Sam glanced back at Jayne and Lynn one more time. Jayne didn't look back at him. She was opening the door to her truck. Lynn shrugged helplessly and forced a smile.

He forced a smile too and nodded back. When he turned around, he found his father still standing out in the mist, leaning one hand against his driver's side door.

"Dad?" Dean asked.

As Sam watched, John shook his head. "Yeah," he said, slowly turning around. Sam gawked at his usually strong, silent father, who was now standing in front of them looking grief-stricken and lost. "It's Jim," he said.

Sam stared and so did Dean. John shook his head again. "I can't…" The man trailed off, his eyes staring out at something in the distance. Finally, he looked back at the rest of them. "This ends now," he said. "I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes."

Then he turned his back on all of them and climbed into his truck. Sam looked helplessly over at Dean, who shook his head with his mouth set in a hard, fixed line and got into the car. A quick glance back at Jayne's truck showed the two women getting into their car too. Sam took a deep breath and slid into the passenger seat.

Engines turned over, and tires squeaked against the wet pavement. Hearing about Pastor Jim made Sam's chest throb and his eyes sting, but it didn't change what had to be done.

That prickle of anticipation Sam got when he thought about the demon was still there.


"I'm calling Steve."

Lynn jumped at the sound of her sister's voice. The truck was navigating a crowded four lane road that went smack dab through the middle of a busy town center. The hospital they'd been assigned to check out was up ahead on their right.

She nodded, glancing at Jayne. Her sister kept her eyes on the road, her jaw screwed together tightly. "Ok," Lynn breathed. "You should. He needs to know."

Jayne nodded too. A few minutes later, they were pulling the truck into visitor parking. Lynn pulled open the glove compartment and began searching for fake IDs. Jayne dug her cell phone out of her jeans and flipped it open.

Lynn's phone chose that moment to start ringing. Jayne frowned at her, and Lynn shrugged, grabbing her phone out of her coat. She glanced at the display screen. "It's Deedee," she announced.

"Answer it," Jayne replied, pocketing her cell.

Lynn did as ordered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Lynn," Deedee's voice came through on the speaker. Her voice sounded strained and sort of muffled, like she had a cold. "Um… I have some bad news."

Nausea swept through her, and Lynn swallowed back the bile that stung the back of her throat. "Is Rufus ok?" she demanded immediately, clutching the truck door.

Jayne looked at her in wide-eyed panic. "Daddy's fine," Deedee replied.

"It's not Danny…?"

"No, no, he's ok too. It's your ex-boyfriend. Trevor."

Her breath caught in her throat, and Lynn had to stifle a dry gasp. Ex-boyfriend was a term that did not properly describe who Trevor Weisman was. Lynn had briefly dated him in high school, but the two of them had decided they were better off as friends a month into the relationship. They'd remained friends too, and it had been him who had helped Lynn install the GPS tracker on her brother's Superbird.

She swallowed, hard. "What happened to Trevor?" she asked, her voice too calm. In all honestly, Lynn did not really need the answer.

"He's dead, Lynn. Beatrice went over to see him today – needed help fixing her computer or something… somebody killed him. He was lying on the living room floor…"

Deedee's voice cut out and Lynn heard her smothering a sob of her own. She blinked, gripping the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "How?" she whispered.

She heard Deedee take a deep breath. "His throat was slit. Police looked for fingerprints and stuff…"

"What did Rufus find?" Lynn interrupted, knowing damn well that Rufus would have done an investigation of his own.

"Sulfur."

Lynn slumped back against the seat, staring wide-eyed at Jayne's dashboard. "We don't know what it was, or why, but…" Deedee trailed off and took a deep breath. "I just thought you'd want to know."

"Thanks," Lynn murmured. "I did."

"I got to go, there's a customer…"

"It's ok, Deedee. I'll talk to you later."

"Take care of yourself, Lynn."

She heard a click on the line as Deedee hung up the phone. Lynn slowly shut her cell, lowering her arm into her lap. She looked over at Jayne, who was staring at her with huge eyes and a resolved expression on her face.

"Trevor's dead, isn't he?" she asked.

Lynn nodded. "Throat was slashed."

"Sulfur?"

Lynn nodded again.

"Shit," Jayne breathed, slumping against the seat. Lynn stared determinedly out the windshield as her sister rubbed her temples.

They didn't speak for a long time. Lynn fought with her eyes, trying not to let tears roll down her cheeks. Her eyes were stinging and wet, and she could feel a tingling sensation in her nose.

Jayne handed her a tissue, and then rested her hand on her shoulder. Lynn nearly broke down right then and there, but resisted. She buried her face in the tissue, struggling with the urge to sob. "This is all our fault," she choked out, her voice muffled by the Kleenex.

"Don't say that."

Lynn snapped her head up to glare at Jayne. The tears were escaping now. "How can it not be our fault?" she demanded. "John's pastor friend is dead and now Trevor… literally one day after we got our hands on that stupid gun! Throats slashed, sulfur at the scene… Jayne, how the hell can all this not be connected?"

Her sister stared at the floor, her hand still on Lynn's shoulder, and slowly shook her head. "I don't know."

"It's because of the gun, right? The demon knows we're close."

Jayne shrugged noncommittally. "Don't blow me off, Jayne!" Lynn exclaimed. "It knows we're close; John said it himself. This thing… we're coming after it, and it knows, and now it's killing everyone we know!"

"One more reason to put the thing down," Jayne returned steadily.

Lynn stared at her, her mouth hanging open and tears still rolling down her face. Jayne looked back at her without flinching. If Lynn looked real hard, she could see that Jayne's eyes were wet too but her chin was locked up in determination.

"I… I need to clean up," Lynn said finally, dabbing at her running mascara with her tissue. "I don't… we should tell the Winchesters. Warn them."

Jayne nodded.

"I'm going to go find a bathroom. Start the research without me."

Again, Jayne nodded. Lynn hopped down from the truck and jogged towards the hospital doors, still wiping her face with the now crusty, crinkled tissue. Her mind was spinning, and she felt like she wanted to hurl.

The fight hadn't even begun, and already there were casualties. It wasn't the first time she'd thought about finally killing the demon, but it was definitely the first time she'd wondered if the revenge was worth the cost.

If this was what revenge looked like, Lynn wasn't sure she wanted it anymore.


Jayne watched through the windshield of her truck as her sister jogged towards the white hospital building, her lower lip caught between her teeth. The news about their old friend Trevor had thrown her, but it had struck a much heavier blow to Lynn.

Taking a deep breath and wiping a small, stray tear out of her eyelashes, Jayne got a hold of her cell phone again and dialed Steve's number. Leaning back against the seat, she waited for her brother to answer.

"Hey, sis. What's up?"

At the sound of his voice, all of Jayne's muscles relaxed. She slumped in the driver's seat, breathing a sigh of relief. "You're not dead," she announced. "Good to know."

"Uh… yeah," Steve replied, sounding abashed. "I meant to call…"

"Save the excuses, I'm not calling to scold you," Jayne interrupted. "I'm in Salvation, Iowa with Sam, Dean, and their father. We've got a lead on the demon, and I think you need to be here."

There was a long silence. Jayne waited patiently for several seconds, but her brother didn't say a word. "Are you still there?" she demanded.

"Uh… I… I just… a lead on the demon?"

"That's right," Jayne replied to his shocked stuttering. "John's been tracking signs, and he thinks the demon's going to strike here soon. Where are you?"

"Oh, you know. Maine."

Jayne's jaw dropped. "What the hell are you doing all the way out in freaking Maine?"

"Ghost busting, obviously."

She took a moment to absorb that information. "How soon can you get here?" she asked.

"Probably need two days."

Jayne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know when it's going to strike," she said. "It could take a week… it could come tonight."

She heard her brother swallow over the phone. "I'm heading out now," he told her. "Call me when you know more."

"Good," Jayne replied, the tension leaving her shoulders as relief set in once against. "And Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"We got our hands on a gun," she told him. "It's a Colt revolver, circa 1835. It's supposed to kill demons."

She hadn't expected her brother to laugh, but that was exactly what Steve did. "You found a demon-killing gun?"

"Yep."

There was another long silence. "Holy hell," Steve whistled. "You're fucking serious."

"Serious like one seriously dead demon."

"Sounds like a risk to me, Jaynie," Steve said, sounding skeptical. "Where did this thing come from?"

Jayne explained the whole story to her brother – the vampires, Daniel Elkins, Samuel Colt and the mysterious hunter, and John Winchester. When she got to the part about the gun killing a vampire, her brother whistled again.

"Are you serious?" he crowed. "Seriously? The vampire… it died?"

"Yeah," Jayne replied. "The gun works, Steve."

There was a short silence. "A lot of things must want to get their hands on that," Steve mused after a moment.

"You're not kidding," Jayne retorted. "Actually… you remember Trevor? From Stamping Ground?"

"What about him?"

"We just got a call from Deedee. He's dead, Steve, and we think a demon killed him."

Another short silence followed her announcement. "God, Lynn must be so upset," Steve whispered.

"Yeah. Here's the thing – a demon killed Trevor, and a demon just killed one of the Winchesters' friends too. If it's killing people we know, just because it knows we've got the gun and we're coming for it…."

"Damn it," Steve interrupted. "A lot of people could get hurt, Jayne."

"I know," Jayne agreed. "So I'm warning you. I want you here and in the fight, but you be damn careful on the drive out to Iowa."

His voice was low and steady, and she could see his face in her head, all determined and stoic. "I'll be careful," he promised.

"Good. Hurry up."

"I'll be there."

Her brother hung up the phone. Jayne took a deep, shaky breath, and tucked her phone back into her jeans. All of a sudden, the hunt for the demon, the revenge for her mother… everything felt just a little too real.

She climbed out of the truck with legs like Jell-O and marched towards the hospital doors.


The records office of the county health center had loud blue and black faux marble walls, which were not helping Sam's migraine. The headache had come on suddenly, and Sam was having a difficult time concentrating on the birth records sitting on the table in front of him. His head was pounding, and every time he tried to read the tiny print on the documents, his vision swam.

Predictably, his brother was no help. Dean's phone had buzzed a few minutes ago, leading him to promptly answer it and disappear. With an annoyed sigh, Sam rubbed his aching head and tried to focus on the records.

"Hey," Dean announced, appearing suddenly on the other side of the table. "That was Jayne."

"They find something?" Sam asked hopefully.

Dean shook his head. "Deedee Hannigan just called them. Lynn's ex-boyfriend back in Kentucky got his throat slashed."

Sam stared at his brother with huge eyes, swallowing a lump in his throat. "His throat was slashed?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "And Rufus found sulfur at the guy's place."

"A demon," Sam breathed.

"Something's starting, Sammy," Dean said, shaking his head. "I… I don't know. People are dying, and…"

Sam looked at his brother in surprise. He was staring at the table, his hands tightly gripping the back of a chair. "This is going to get ugly," Dean finished.

They were silent for a moment. Slowly, Dean sat back down in his chair. Then the two of them got back to reviewing the records. Hours were spent like this; Sam and his brother hunched over the table in the health center, reviewing birth certificates and making lists. Finally, when they'd gone through everything the nursing staff had to offer, they gathered up their lists, returned the files, and thanked everyone for their time before leaving.

The sky was still overcast, and although the rain had stopped, the sidewalk was still damp. Dean was ahead, keys jingling in his hand. Sam followed behind him, leafing through his list. By now, Dean had already reached the car, but as Sam meandered behind his brother, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by splitting pain in his head.

Grimacing, he froze, grabbing his forehead. He could see a woman – young – older than him – with brown hair. She was wearing a nightgown – she had a baby – she was laying the baby in a crib. They were in a nursery.

"Sam?" he heard Dean ask in concern.

He heard a train whistle, and the woman over the crib looked up, startled.

"Sammy?" Dean demanded, grabbing him by the arm.

Suddenly, Sam was jolted back to reality. The pain in his head was stabbing, and he winced, still gripping his face. With a pained gasp, he wrenched his eyes open. Dean was standing in front of him, his eyes wide and concerned.

"I had another one," Sam breathed.

"Yeah," Dean retorted, but he still looked freaked. "Figured that much out on my own, thanks."

"It was a woman and a baby, Dean," Sam said in a low, serious voice. "At night? In their nursery?"

Dean swallowed, hard. Sam watched his Adam's apple bob noticeably. "It's got to be them," Sam pressed. "Uh… I heard a train."

"A train?"

Sam paid Dean's befuddled look no mind as he swung his backpack around to his front and started rifling through its contents. A few seconds of frantic searching yielded a road map of the area. Sam scanned it quickly, looking for railroad tracks.

"What are we doing, Sammy?"

He found the tracks almost immediately. The railroad was actually nearby, cutting close by a residential neighborhood. "This street," Sam said, pointing at the map. "I'm almost positive it's on this street."

"What's on this street?"

Sam looked his brother in the eye. "The house the demon's going to burn tonight."

Dean stopped arguing and asking questions immediately. Mere seconds later, Sam found himself sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala as Dean navigated the streets of Salvation, looking for the neighborhood in question. He was quiet, still nursing that pounding migraine pain. Finally, Dean pulled on the street in question and parked against the curb.

Sam stumbled out of the car with the map still clutched in his hand, and began walking the block, his head still pounding. He could hear Dean hollering behind him, but he ignored his brother, focused on the task at hand. As he walked, the splitting migraine pain shot through his skull once again and he grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing his head.

He could see the dancing ballerinas on a shadow box, the woman in her baby's nursery again, looking out the window at the dark street… a paladin window with white curtains and blue shutters. Then he saw the dark, man-shaped shadow standing over the baby's crib…

His vision cleared. Sam blinked at the house across the street from him: a two-story home with vinyl siding blue shutters, with a paladin window on the second story, overlooking the street. Frowning at the window, Sam stepped off the curb, moving towards the house as though in a trance. His eyes darted from the window to the sidewalk, where he saw a young, brunette woman walking along, pushing a baby stroller and holding an umbrella over her head.

She was, without a doubt, the woman from his vision.

He rushed across the street, startling the woman when he appeared on the sidewalk beside her. "Hi," he greeted her. She smiled at him, and he took hold of the baby stroller. "Here, let me take that."

The woman had been trying to close her umbrella – as the misty rain from earlier had finally stopped – but couldn't because her hands were full. "You look like you don't need that anymore," Sam said, smiling back at her and still holding the stroller.

"Thanks," she said, shutting the umbrella and tucking it into a pocket on the back of the stroller.

"She's gorgeous," Sam announced, smiling at the baby in the stroller. "Is she yours?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, wow," he said, and then smiled at the baby again. "Hi."

The woman made to keep walking, but Sam artfully blocked her way. "I'm sorry," he told her, holding out his hand. "I'm rude – I'm Sam. I just moved in up the block."

"Oh," the woman said pleasantly, shaking his hand. "I'm Monica. This is Rosie."

"Rosie," Sam repeated. "Hi, Rosie."

"Welcome to the neighborhood," Monica said politely, still smiling.

"Thank you," Sam replied. He looked back down at Rosie. "She's such a good baby."

"I know," Monica agreed brightly. "She – I mean, she never cries. She just… stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you, and I swear, it's like she's reading your mind."

Sam smiled painfully. It seemed to him that it was very likely Rosie could indeed read someone's mind – or at least, one day, she would.

"What about you, Monica?" he asked, changing the subject. "Have you lived here long?"

"My husband and I bought our house right before Rosie was born."

"How old is Rosie?"

"She's six months today," Monica smiled. Sam stared at her, his stomach sinking. "Big, right? Growing like a weed."

Sam tried to smile again, but he could feel that he wasn't. The smile didn't want to appear on his face, and so his lips twitched pitifully instead. Monica stared at him, frowning slightly, as though trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"Monica," Sam began.

"Yeah?"

"Just, uh… just take care of yourself, ok?"

Monica still looked a little confused. "Yeah, you too, Sam. We'll see you around."

"Definitely."

Then Monica was off, heading for the house with the paladin window. A minivan was pulling into the drive, and a young man climbed out. Sam stood there on the edge of the sidewalk, staring at the small family, his head still aching.

Suddenly, there was burning in his skull, violent pain pulsing through his head. Sam cried out, gripping his head, as the images began assaulting him – the ballerinas, the nursery, Monica and the crib… fire…

He saw nursery, and he heard the sound of a lullaby. Then the music stopped, and wind began to blow, the mobile handing over the crib spinning round and round. He saw the shadowy man standing over Rosie, and Monica entering the room. He heard her ask what he was doing there, and then he saw Monica fly into the wall. She slid up the wall and onto the ceiling, crying and calling for her baby. Blood blossomed on the front of her white nightgown, and then the nursery burst into flames.

"Sam!"

Suddenly, he was back. Sam blinked, his head still pounding, and looked around. He was still standing outside the house, on the street, and now Dean was in front of him, shaking his arm. "What the hell happened, man?"

He wasn't sure how to answer Dean's question. "I had a vision."

"I know. What…?"

"That woman, over there," Sam said, nodding at Monica. Dean glanced her way, and then back at Sam. "The demon's coming for her tonight."

Dean stared at him, silently. Sam stared back. There were no words.


Dean sat on the edge of the bed by the motel room door, frowning at the other two men in the room. Sam was hunched over the table by the sink, still nursing his head, while his father sat on the other bed, clearly furious. The room was like all the others – too dark, dreary, with wood paneling on the walls and ugly orange comforters on the beds. They'd arrived there only a few minutes earlier and explained the situation to John – telling him where the demon was going to strike and all about Sam's visions.

"A vision?" he repeated.

"Yes," Sam sighed, still rubbing his head. "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"And you think it's going to happen to this woman you met because…?"

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them."

John shook his head, his hands folded in front of his face and his elbows perched on his knees. Dean tucked his chin, but before anyone could explain anything further, there was knock on the motel room door.

Immediately after Sam's vision, Dean had called Jayne, and then his father, so he knew exactly who was at the door. Sighing, he got to his feet and pulled the door open.

"Hey," he greeted the two women on the other side of the threshold, stepping back so they could enter. "We're just recapping Sam's vision."

He let the door fall shut. Sam looked up pathetically from the table at the loud noise, and Dean winced in apology. Lynn, predictably, went straight to Sam's side, and took a seat next to him. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Sam nodded. Dean rolled his eyes and looked at Jayne. She'd parked herself on the edge of the bed he'd been sitting on, so Dean made his way to the sink.

He hadn't spoken more than a few words in passing to Jayne since he'd kissed her yesterday in Colorado. It was stupid, but he didn't have the guts to say anything. He didn't know what to say; he didn't know what he felt.

His father was looking at both women suspiciously, but Dean picked up the conversation right where it left off. "The visions, they started out as nightmares," he told his dad, reaching for the coffee. "Then Sam started having them while he was awake."

Again, his father's eyes darted from Lynn to Jayne, still brimming with suspicion. It was like he hadn't expected them to know, or didn't want them to know, or resented the fact that they knew when he didn't. Hell, maybe it was a combination of all three.

"It's like… I don't know," Sam said, gripping the bridge of his nose. "The closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get."

"All right," John snapped suddenly. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

Dean stared at his father, and then glanced at a befuddled Sam. "We didn't know what it meant."

"When something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up your phone and you call me!"

The statement raised Dean's hackles and he slammed his coffee down on the counter, whirling around to glare at his father. Before he could get a word out, however, Jayne snorted loudly. "You mean like that time when Dean was dying?" she barked, getting to her feet. "And Sam called you, but you didn't show up or even call him back?"

Dean was twice as pissed now. Maybe she'd said exactly what he'd been thinking, but he did not need her fighting his battles for him. His father looked plenty pissed too, glowering Jayne's way. "Excuse me?" he asked her.

"Well, come on, Dad, she'd got a point," Dean spoke up, even as he glared at her. Jayne glared back. "Sam did call you when I was dying. I called you when we were in Lawrence. Getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

Silence. John stared at him a moment, and then he slowly nodded. "You're right," he conceded. "Although I'm not crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

It wasn't anywhere near the response he'd expected, but Dean couldn't feel good about it. He stood where he was, still glaring at his father, who irritatingly did not glare back. "Look guys," Sam announced, breaking the tension. "Visions or no visions, the fact is we know the demon is coming tonight, and this family is going to go through the same hell that we went through."

Dean turned his back on everyone, marching back towards the coffee. "No they're not," his father replied. "No one is. Ever again."

He didn't know why he was so pissed at everyone, but Dean was pissed. He was irritated at his father, at Jayne, at Sam, at the whole damn hunt, demon included. Dean wanted to yell and throw and break things, but instead he lifted his coffee mug with a jittery hand and swallowed a mouthful of the black, bitter crap.

Sam's cell rang. "Hello?" he heard his brother answer the call.

There was a brief pause. "Who is this?" Sam asked.

Dean frowned at the back of his brother's head. Lynn, still seated at the table with Sam, was also furrowing her brow at him, looking both confused and concerned. His brother's next word sent his stomach dropping like a rock.

"Meg."

He met Jayne's eyes over Sam's head, sharing identical, worried looks. "The last time I saw you, you fell out of a window," Sam said into the phone.

Dean pushed himself away from the counter as his father stood up off the bed. Sam was silent a moment, listening to the other end of the conversation. "Just your feelings?" he demanded suddenly. "That was a seven story drop!"

There was another pause. Sam glanced at their father, who looked… expectant, Dean decided. As though he'd thought something like this was going to happen. "My dad," Sam replied to whatever Meg was saying. "I don't know where my dad is."

Dean still couldn't hear Meg's end of the conversation. Frowning, he stared at Sam, who looked from him, to Lynn, to their father. John held out his hand for the phone and slowly, reluctantly, Sam handed it over.

"This is John," his father said into the cell.

The motel room was silent, heavy and tense. Dean stared at his father's back. John had turned his back on them all and was facing the door. Jayne, who had by now approached the table, glanced at John, and then at Dean. Dean met her eyes briefly.

"I'm here," his father's deep voice echoed through the room.

He could feel the shift in the room, and he knew this whole hunt was about to go straight to hell. First, with Pastor Jim, and then with Lynn's old boyfriend, and Sam's vision, and now with the phone call from Meg – who should really be dead – Dean took a deep breath, and clenched his fists at his sides, still staring determinedly at his father's back.

"Caleb?" John exclaimed, shocked and desperate. Sam looked up from the table, his hand falling from his forehead, and stared at their father too. Dean swallowed, hard.

"Caleb," his father said again. "You listen to me; he's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go."

Somehow, Dean didn't think Meg would go for that. There was a brief pause as she responded to John's demands. "I don't know what you're talking about," he retorted.

Another pause, and then his father cried out, "Caleb? Caleb!"

Dean's stomach turned over. He stared at his father in horror. "I'm going to kill you, you know that?" John said evenly into the phone.

There was that tense, heavy silence again. It gave Dean the creeps. John was pacing the room, rubbing his face with his hand, his eyes trained on the floor. Dean kept staring at him – they all kept staring at him, Sam, Lynn, Jayne – but he didn't look up once, opting to turn his back on them once again.

"Ok," he muttered into the phone. "I said, ok. I'll bring you the Colt."

Sam twisted in his chair, gawking at his father. Jayne drew a noticeable hiss of breath, her fists clenching. John paid them no mind. "It's going to take me about a day's drive to get there." Brief pause. "That's impossible. I can't drive there in time, and I can't just carry a gun on a plane."

Dean stared at his father, who stared blankly at the wall. Meg must have hung up because John slowly lowered the phone and snapped it shut. When he turned to look at the rest of the hunters, they all stared back at him.

"She wants the gun," John said.

"Puzzled that out on our own, thanks," Jayne returned. "What's she got hanging over your head?"

Snarky though the comment was, it lacked Jayne's usual animosity when it came to John, and for that Dean was glad. His father noticed it too, and responded in kind. "She killed Caleb."

Dean swallowed, ducking his head. John blinked furiously. "She was the one who killed Jim, and she was the one that killed, uh…"

"Trevor," Lynn supplied quietly, lacing her fingers together on top of the table and staring at them.

John nodded. "Right. If we don't hand over the Colt, she kills more of our friends."

Silence. Dean stared at his father, who looked determinedly at the floor. "We can't let her get away with that," Sam spoke up. "I mean, what about the demon? It's coming here."

"We don't have a choice, Sammy," John replied patiently. "I have to go, or people are going to die. That demon bitch is going to hunt down everyone we've ever known and kill them."

That comment only silenced Sam for a moment. "You think Meg is a demon?"

John sighed. "Either that or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter."

"What do we do?" Dean asked.

"I'm going to Lincoln," John returned automatically.

"What?" Dean demanded.

"Doesn't seem like I have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die – our friends die." He nodded at Jayne and Lynn. "Your friends die."

Dean glanced at them. Lynn was staring at the table still, her eyes looking watery. Jayne met his eyes, and quickly lowered them.

"Dad, the demon is coming tonight," Sam argued. "For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got. You can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over?" John retorted. "Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like."

Dean snorted incredulously. "So, what? You're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?"

John shrugged. "Antique store," he corrected.

That didn't make Dean feel any better. "You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"

"Look, as long as it's close? She shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Yeah, but for how long?" Dean exclaimed, his temper rising with every answer his father gave. "What happens when she figures it out?"

John lowered his eyes. "I just… I just need to buy a few hours. That's all."

Silence. Dean shook his head at his father, still annoyed. Sam and Jayne were staring at him, and Lynn was still looking at the table. "You mean for us," Sam said softly.

His father stared steadily at Sam. Dean frowned, looking incredulously from his father to his brother. "You want us to stay here," Sam went on, almost robotically. "And kill this demon by ourselves?"

"No, Sam," John returned. "I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school; I want Dean to have a home."

He turned away from them, approaching the window by the motel room door. Dean stared after him, and so did Sam. Jayne took a step backwards, folding her arms awkwardly in front of her chest.

"I want Mary alive," John said hoarsely, and Dean swore he could hear tears in his father's voice. The man whipped around, and Dean saw that his eyes were wet. "I just… I want this to be over."

The room fell silent again. Dean looked away from his father, because the sight of the man with tears in his eyes was more than unsettling. Sam wiped at his face, sniffing. Jayne cleared her throat, and everyone jumped at the sudden sound, whirling around to stare at her.

"Sounds like a plan to me," she announced, and Dean saw his father give her the tiniest of nods. "Let's just find the replacement gun and get this show on the road."

John agreed and started barking out orders. Dean stared at her, unaccountably annoyed at her agreement with the plan. His father was putting his neck on the line for all of them and he didn't appreciate her encouraging it.

He wanted the demon dead, he wanted to save the tiny family Sam had met … but he didn't want to lose anyone in that motel room doing it. For the first time in a long time, Dean began to wonder if the revenge was really worth it.


The car was silent as Dean navigated it down the main highway towards an antiques store on the outskirts of Salvation. Jayne sat beside him with her arms folded over her chest, and stared stoically out the windshield. They hadn't spoken since they'd gotten into the car, and Jayne wasn't sure how to read that.

It was raining again. Jayne watched the windshield wipers pump back and forth across the glass, only half listening to the guitar music quietly playing on the radio. Her mind was wrapped up in thoughts about the demon, her family, Dean's family, the Colt, and all the casualties that gun had already caused.

"You shouldn't have yelled at him," Dean said suddenly, his voice sudden and startling in the silence.

Jayne glanced at him, her eyebrow raised. "About me," he clarified. "You shouldn't have gotten in my dad's face about Nebraska."

She stared at him a moment, but he kept his eyes trained on the road. Then she shrugged and returned her gaze to the window. "Someone's got to stick up for you," she retorted.

An annoyed little scoff escaped his lips. "Yeah, well, I don't need you to do it. I can stick up for myself."

"Yeah, you can," she agreed, shrugging again. "But you don't."

"Sure I do."

"Not with your dad."

The car fell silent again, the silence only broken by the pattering of the rain and the squeak of the wipers and the tinkling of the radio.

"You shouldn't have encouraged this bullshit plan either," Dean snapped.

Jayne looked at him sideways. "Cut the crap, Dean. Your dad was going to Lincoln whether I supported him or not. Besides, what the hell else are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know," he spat from behind gritted teeth, his hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel. "I just… I just know this is going to end badly."

He was right. Jayne couldn't argue with any of that. This hunt was going to end badly. The moment Sam had answered his phone back in that motel room with a confused, 'Meg?' Jayne had known this was all going to end very, very badly indeed.

"You can't talk like that," she told him. "We're finally getting a shot at this demon, ok? Don't jinx us before we even start."

Dean sucked in his cheek, shaking his head and staring at the road. They fell silent again, and neither of them spoke until the Impala reached the antique store and Dean parked in a spot outside the front door.

He swung open the driver's side door, but Jayne didn't move. When he raised a questioning eyebrow at her, she waved her cell phone at him. "I've got to make a call. Meet you inside."

With a shrug, he climbed out of the car and slammed the door. Jayne watched him as he marched into the antiques store without sparing her a second glance. Then, for the second time that day, she dialed Stephen's number.

"What do you want now?" Steve answered the phone, and despite everything, it brought a smile to her face.

"Sam had a vision," she said, cutting straight to the point. "The demon's coming tonight."

There was a long silence. Jayne worried her lower lip with her teeth and poked at her jeans, knowing what her brother would say before he said it. Finally Steve released a heavy sigh into the phone. "I'm not going to make it in time," he announced, sounding resigned.

"Yeah," Jayne whispered. "I know."

It was all going so terribly wrong already. Jayne stared at Dean's dashboard, her phone still pressed to her ear. Steve was supposed to be here. John was supposed to be here. Meg was not supposed to be killing innocent people just because they'd gotten their hands on the Colt. Dean was not supposed to be ignoring her and then pissed at her and…

"Where are you right now?" she asked her brother.

"Massachusetts."

Jayne sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Damn it."

"You're telling me. I'm gonna miss out on all the action."

Her brother's cocky, smirking tone did not make her smile this time. "Hey, tell you what," Steve went on. "Maybe I'll swing by Rufus's place."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You and Lynn can meet me there, and you can tell me all about killing that evil SOB."

"Unless we die."

"Don't say that."

All the joking immediately left his voice. Jayne sighed. "Sorry."

"See you at the pub?"

"You got it. Steve?"

"Yeah?"

Jayne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Take care of yourself."

He paused briefly, and then said in a low voice, his breath hitching, "You too, Jaynie." Then he hung up the phone.

Jayne hung up too, still staring at the dashboard. With a sigh, she tucked the phone away and climbed out of the car. Through the large glass windows at the front of the store, she could see Dean bent over a glass case, frowning at the weapons on display.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and then marched on inside.


Dean slid behind the wheel of his car and tossed the bag in his hand at Jayne, who had already climbed into the passenger seat. She caught it, laying the Colt substitute in her lap. Sighing, Dean slammed the door and turned the key in the ignition.

They'd squabbled over the gun in the store, trying to decide which one of the Colt revolvers on display matched the real Colt the best. Dean was irritated – both at her, and at himself. He wasn't sure why he kept insisting on squabbling with her. It wasn't really what he wanted to do. That was the whole thing, really. He didn't know what he wanted.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He wanted this demon dead. He wanted everyone he loved to come out the other side of the fight still breathing. He did not want his father traipsing off to Lincoln with a fake Colt to meet with Meg alone.

He sighed harshly. Jayne rolled her eyes. "The gun's fine, Dean. It looks almost exactly the same. We just have to carve that symbol on the barrel."

"I couldn't give a shit about the damn gun," he growled. "This isn't going to work. My dad's going to get himself killed."

There was silence again. Dean didn't make a move to shift out of park and get back on the road. He just sat there in the car, glaring at the steering wheel. It was still raining, and the heater in the car was fogging up the windows.

Jayne sighed. "Dean," she said softly. "Your dad… Meg didn't leave him with a lot of options."

"Don't stick up for him," he snapped, angry at her all over again. "You don't agree with anything he does, so don't start now."

She turned in her seat and glared at him. Dean glared right back. Slowly, her glower softened, and that made Dean even more annoyed than he already was. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

He shrugged, tearing his eyes from hers. "Don't."

There was another long silence. Dean glowered determinedly out the windshield, and Jayne stared at the console. "This was never going to be clean and easy," she said. "We all knew that. It's not just your dad, Dean. We're all risking our lives tonight."

What got him more than anything was her calm acceptance that she could die. Dean didn't want to die – he didn't want any of them to die. He was sick to death of watching the people he cared about embark on stupid, suicidal quests for revenge, without giving a second thought to their own lives. If the price for revenge was losing one of them, then he didn't want revenge any more.

But she was right, and that irked him still more. Every hunt they took could lead to death; this hunt especially. It was really starting to hit him hard, the reality of their mortality. He'd nearly died after hunting that raw-head. Jayne had nearly died in the vampire nest. Sam, Lynn, his father… every last one of them constantly putting their lives on the line...

"We're going to get this son of a bitch," Jayne said, her tone hard and determined.

Dean looked over at her. She was glowering at the glove compartment, her mouth set in a firm, tense little line. He stared at her profile, swallowing. God, he wanted to kiss her.

Jayne looked up at him, her gray eyes piercing through him. Dean didn't bother fighting the impulse. He leaned over the console and took her cheek in his hand, pulling her lips against his. She tensed, surprised, before pressing her mouth back against his. Dean buried both hands in her hair, his lips hard and demanding on hers, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth. Jayne let out a small gasp, opening her mouth and he took full advantage of the opportunity. Her hands were digging through his hair now too, and she was pulling him closer, her warm, wet mouth savaging his. Dean broke free, his lips moving down the column of her neck. He sucked and kissed and bit at her skin, pulling another gasp from her mouth, and then a whimper. She pulled on his hair as he kissed his way down her throat and under the collar of her shirt, her other hand creeping up inside his shirt and squeezing his back. He felt her fingernails digging into his skin. Dean kissed his way back up her neck and to her mouth again, pulling at the buttons on her shirt.

She yanked back suddenly, her hands flying out of his shirt to press against his chest. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, we can't."

He groaned, slumping back against the driver's seat. "Why the hell not?" he demanded. She met his eyes, and Dean swallowed at her somber expression.

"Because it will feel like goodbye," she whispered.

For a long time, they sat there in the warm car, staring at one another, listening to the rain beat down on the Impala. Then Dean nodded, reaching out and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "No goodbyes," he agreed.

Jayne nodded back. "No goodbyes."