Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Sorry for such long delays, as always. My goal is to finish the story in the next week or so. I can't promise anything, but I'm going to try.

Chapter 52: The Readiness is All

Since he had announced the change of plan courtesy of their dad's phone call, Dean had been quiet. Granted, over the past few weeks (or had it been longer), that was pretty much par for the course, so it really shouldn't come as a surprise that he was quiet, Sam figured. But still, it was worrisome.

Sam wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but the sound of the tires hitting a dirt and gravel road brought him awake. The car came to a stop outside a rundown but quaint little house, and he turned to Dean questioningly.

"What are we doing?"

"Gotta take care of something right quick," Dean told him as he reached for the door handle.

"But what—" He sighed as Dean climbed out of the car and shut the door, cutting him off.

"Wha's goin' on?" Braden asked from the back seat as the sound of the door jarred him out of a sound sleep.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Sam told him, watching as Dean walked up the steps to knock on the front door of the house. Braden frowned at him with tired eyes and turned to watch Dean as a lady came to the door with a quizzical expression on her face.

They couldn't hear what Dean was saying to her, but whatever it was, the woman looked shocked for only a moment before she suddenly pulled Dean close, her eyes filling with tears as she hugged him for all he was worth.

"Whaddaya s'pose that's about?" Braden asked, and Sam shrugged.

"I don't know, but I don't think we have time for pit stops, not if things are as serious as Dad implied."

"C'mon, Sam, you know better than anyone—to Daddy, everything is serious," Aubrey said, not looking up as she flipped through a magazine that Sam suspected was courtesy of a five-finger discount, one of Braden's, though—Aubrey didn't like to filch things.

"Yeah, but this is about the Yellow-Eyed Demon, Aub—he wouldn't exaggerate about how serious this is. We need to go. Hell, we should have never stopped."

"Yeah, well, it's important."

"What is so damn important? We don't even know what we're doing here!"

"Sure we do: spirit," Aubrey told him, turning the page as she continued to peruse the article she was reading, clearly not finding their conversation important enough to give Sam her full attention.

It's like she's channeling Braden, Sam thought, shaking his head. And that's all we need, another smartass in the family.

"So do you mind filling the rest of us in?" he asked her, sarcasm sharpening his tone. Aubrey heaved a put-upon sigh and closed her magazine, dropping it on the floorboard as she met Sam's gaze with one of those 'I-think-you're-an-idiot' looks that had long become a Winchester special.

"Clearly, a spirit asked Dean to tell that lady something. He doesn't always help 'em, but if it's something easy like that, he's usually more willing. Besides, if you help 'em out sometimes, they'll return the favor. And if you're lucky, they'll leave you alone and move on."

"But why now? We don't have time for side trips."

"Sam," Jessica said, and her tone was enough to tell Sam that she was about to tell him he was being a jerk. Though Sam wasn't sure how, he recognized the tone readily enough.

"Yeah?"

"Obviously, this is something that Dean felt was important enough to stop for, even though we're in a hurry. You shouldn't question him."

"Or he's just delaying the inevitable, buying some time before he has to see Dad and face Yellow-Eyes," Braden said insightfully.

Yeah, or maybe (C) all of the above.

"So what do you think he told her?" Jessica asked, staring out the window as Dean allowed the woman to hug him, patting her back a bit awkwardly.

"I don't know," Sam said, but whatever it was meant a hell of a lot to the woman, who finally pulled away from Dean with a grateful smile as she wiped her eyes.

Dean smiled back at her and with a parting word turned back towards the car.

"So what was that about?" Sam asked when Dean slid into the seat, and Jessica knocked his shoulder, scowling at him for starting an interrogation as soon as Dean got back in the car.

"The woman's daughter wanted me to pass on a message."

"What kind of message?"

"Just that she was okay, and that she wasn't mad at her for what happened before."

"Before what?" Sam asked.

"Before she died, Sam."

"Oh."

Without another word, Sam settled back against the seat.

"You planning to stop anywhere else?" Sam asked, hoping he didn't sound disapproving, even if that was a bit how he felt. Disapproval from him pissed Dean off as much as it did their dad, and Dean was liable to stop again just to spite Sam if he sensed that Sam disapproved.

"If I need to."

"Do you really think we have time for that?" Shit, why did I just say that? So stupid.

"If you've got something to say, then say it. Otherwise, shut the hell up."

Well, the damage has been done. Might as well commit.

"Dean—"

"On second thought, shut the hell up anyway. I don't wanna hear it."

"Look, man, I'm sorry, but we don't have time for this. We need to—"

"You need to get off my case."

"I just don't understand why it's so important that we stop for this shit when we've got a lead on that yellow-eyed bastard!"

"Because this 'shit,' as you call it, is important, and a lead on Yellow Eyes doesn't mean a damn thing!" Dean yelled at him.

"How can you say that?!"

"Easy-we're not fucking ready! Oliver may talk out of his ass most of the time, but in this case, he's right. This isn't your run-of-the-mill black-eyed son of a bitch! We don't have a damn clue how to take on an upper-level demon. Hell, even the lower-order ones aren't a fucking cakewalk! So you tell me, Sam, how are we gonna beat him, huh?"

"Dad's got a plan, and we've got the rifle," Sam told him earnestly, truly not understanding why his brother wasn't onboard with this.

"Dad doesn't have a plan—he's got a fucking death wish."

"No, he doesn't!" Aubrey cried out from the backseat. "Don't say that!" Dean was clearly in no mood to stop and coddle her, because he turned on her with fire in his eyes.

"Don't, Aubrey!" he told her hotly before turning his attention back to Sam. "And since when are you all 'yay for Dad' anyway?"

"Mock all you want, but it's a good plan," Sam told him firmly. "With the Colt and the Winchester, we—"

"Don't stand a fucking chance. All we have is some spirit mumblings and a helluva lot of wishful thinking. Are you even listening to yourself? You know as well as I do that you don't go into a fight unless you know what you're up against. We've never been up against anything like this, and fancy guns aren't gonna change that."

"The guns will work, Dean," Sam began, but Dean cut him off again.

"You must have missed it when that thing was slinging Jess and I all over the bedroom of your apartment—we were nothing, Sam."

"What other choice do we have, Dean? Yellow Eyes isn't just gonna leave us alone. He's gonna keep gunning for us, gunning for me. We can't keep running forever."

It hit him then, just how much truth was in what he just said. It was terrifying. And he was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of just how hopeless things were starting to look.

"Dean, what am I supposed to do?" he asked softly, looking down at his hands in his lap as though they held the answers.

"…ah…fuck, Sam," Dean murmured. With a sigh, he pulled over, and for a long time, no one spoke. The silence filled the car, weighing down on them with an oppressiveness that Sam wasn't sure how to overcome.

"Faith," Aubrey whispered.

"What?" Sam asked, turning around to look at her as she stared back at him with eyes that were at once both haunted and hopeful.

"We hafta have faith, Sam. Daddy's plan will work. Because it has to. And…I know ya'll don't put much stock in it, but…God's got this. He's kept us safe this long—why would He let us fail now? Don't you see? Everything that's happened lately has happened for a reason. We've figured out the deal with Oliver, me and D have the spirits helping us, and we've got the guns. We're gonna win. We just hafta have faith," she told him, her voice willing him to agree.

For her, Sam knew, it really was that simple. And maybe, just maybe, it was enough for him, too.


The closer they got to their father, the antsier Dean got until Sam was sure his older brother was gonna jump out of his skin. He'd caught Dean more than once flicking his lighter, and Sam was sure that if they were sticking around any of the towns they gassed up in long enough, they'd hear news of more than one fire. But as it was, Dean didn't have time to indulge his impulsive need to set fire to things, and he grew increasingly tense as they reached the coordinates sent by their dad.

The truck was parked in front of one of the sleazy-type of motels their dad was known for frequenting. He usually tried to do better when they were all with him, but when he was alone, his standards were pretty low.

"Gross," Aubrey said from the back seat. "We'd better not be staying here. If so, I'm sleeping in the car."

"I doubt Dad's gonna go for that, sis," Sam told her.

"Well then, he best find us another place to stay. This place just screams 'roaches'—ugh. Next to demons, roaches are the worst things ever."

"I think demons are just a little more serious than roaches," Sam told her, shaking his head at how she ranked items on the 'List of Horrible, Scary Shit'.

"Yeah, it's easy to say that when you're not waking up with a roach crawling across your face."

"Just as easy for you when you're not being held on the ceiling by unseen hands, either," Dean muttered, but a glance back told Sam that Aubrey hadn't heard.

Their dad, with his impeccable sense of timing, chose that moment to come out of Room 5, and with a sigh, Dean opened the driver's side door, heralding the start of the mass exodus from the Impala. Doors creaked open and everyone piled out, dragging an assortment of food wrappers, paper, and empty drink bottles with them.

"Let me see it," John ordered as he reached them, already heading for the trunk.

"Hi, Daddy—nice to see you, too," Aubrey said dryly, and with a smirk, John pulled her against him for a side hug.

"Hey, baby girl," he told her gruffly, kissing the top of her head before pushing her good-naturedly away. She grinned and followed him around to the trunk to grab her backpack as John turned back to his oldest sons.

"Well?" he asked after the twins moved past him to find a trashcan.

Dean reached into the backseat and carefully picked up the blanket-wrapped rifle from the back floorboard, handing it over wordlessly.

"How does she fire?" John asked as he peeled the layers of blanket away and laid his eyes on the rifle for the first time.

When it became obvious that Dean wasn't going to answer, Sam spoke up. "We don't know yet. We cleaned her up and she's ready, but we haven't had a chance to test-fire it yet."

"Was there a special box of ammo with it it?"

"Yessir."

"Good. It's almost impossible to come by, so make sure you don't waste it. When the time comes, make every shot count."

"Yessir."

"What's so special about the ammo anyway?" Jessica asked.

Besides the fact that it was a bitch to get?

"It can kill pretty much anything, demons included."

"How?"

"The rounds are handmade, and there's some pretty heavy spell-work involved. It's a process that was only known by a select few back in the day, and unfortunately, none of them bothered to write it down, so it's lost to us."

"I told Colt to write it down in that journal of his, but he was always a secretive bastard and didn't want to share the specifics about how he made the ammo," Oliver grumbled, Braden appearing suddenly at John's shoulder. Aubrey was right behind him, glancing curiously at the ammo Dean was carefully showing their father.

"And you didn't know the spell-work, Oliver?" Sam asked.

"No, I knew enough to make the rifle, but the ammo was Colt's specialty, not mine. I kept hoping he'd get drunk enough to let something slip, but he never did." It was clear from Oliver's tone that the guy still resented the other gun magnate for his secretiveness.

Hell of a long time to carry a grudge. Of course, if you're that old, what else are you gonna do?

"Damn," John muttered, motioning for Dean to pack the ammo back up.

"Well, at least we have enough rounds for both guns," Aubrey said, obviously trying to be optimistic in the face of the bad news.

"Hopefully, it'll be enough. We need to move. It's almost dark—I want to get to the center of the devil's trap before Yellow Eyes gets any closer."

"What devil's trap?" Sam asked.

"The huge one that's Samuel Colt went to the trouble of building out in the middle of nowhere. The points are formed by old frontier churches, and get this-they're connected by old railway lines. Pure iron. It's fucking brilliant." John replied. "Yellow Eyes has been circling it for a while now, but until something gives, he can't cross the lines. We need to take advantage of that as long as we can, get in there and find out what's in the center that's so important. It's gonna make a move soon. I know it." As he wrapped the rifle back up and returned it to the backseat, he looked over his shoulder at Jessica.

"Jessica, it's best if you stay here," he told her, tossing her the key to the room he'd just left.

"Why can't I go?" she asked, staring down at the key in her hands before looking back up at him.

"I'm sorry, honey, but you don't have any training, and I can't risk something happening to you. I need you safe," he told her with a gentle smile tinged with regret, and damn if Sam didn't love his father a bit more in that moment. For all of his father's faults, he'd accepted Jessica into the family without question.

"But—"

"Jess, he's right," Sam told her. "This is way bigger than the poltergeist thing in Kansas—and in all honesty, we never should've taken you into that situation either. We can start training you later, if that's what you want, but right now, it's too dangerous."

"If it's so dangerous, then why are you taking the twins?" she argued, and Braden cast a dark look at her, clearly irritated that she'd put his chances of going in jeopardy.

"Because we're not fucking helpless like you are," he told her plaintively.

"Braden," John said sternly before Sam could protest the way Braden spoke to Jess, "that was uncalled for—apologize."

"Fine," Braden said with a sigh. "Sorry," he added in that tone that Sam recognized as one that Braden used to appease their father but that didn't actually express remorse in any way. "But I'm right. We know what we're doing, and not only that, but we have help. I have Oliver, and Aubrey has whatever spirits are lurking around and willing to lend a hand."

"Jessica, I know you want to go," John said, giving Braden a stern look as he spoke, "but unfortunately, Braden is right. He and Aubrey know what to do, and when to do it—or not. If things get hairy, they know when to keep their heads down and get help. You don't have that experience yet."

With a sigh, Jessica looked down at the key again, and Sam turned to her with a soft, pitying smile, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her close for a kiss.

She made it a good one, and for a long moment, Sam forgot himself, lost in the moment with her.

"Alright, you two," John interrupted, clearing his throat a bit awkwardly. Sam stepped back from her, feeling his face flush a bit. "There'll be time for that later. We've gotta go."

I wish we could stay here like this. Too bad I know from experience that putting out goodbye any longer is only going to make it harder to drive away. Shit.

"Love you," Sam whispered to her, and she whispered it back, hugging him one last time before letting him go. He headed for the passenger side door of the Impala, watching as his dad handed Jessica a slip of paper.

"Listen, if you don't hear from us by dawn, I want you to call this number," he said, dodging the twins as they ducked around him to pile in while Dean did some last minute shifting around of items in the trunk.

"Who is it?"

"Pastor Jim. He'll get you someplace safe." He gave her a quick sideways hug and walked to his truck, not glancing back.

Did he just hug her? Should I yell 'Christo'?

"Do I have to worry about him being possessed?" she whispered to Dean.

"Who, Dad or Pastor Jim?" Dean retorted, and Sam burst out laughing.

"I was talking about Pastor Jim. Your father is a big softie—you guys don't give him enough credit."

"Yeah, whatever. To answer your question, no. That whole 'pastor deal' keeps possession from being an issue."

"How?"

"A demon can only possess someone who's got a weakness that leaves him open to it. Pastor Jim's faith, for what it's worth, keeps him safe."

"You don't sound like you put much stock in it."

"In what? Faith?"

"Yeah," Jess replied, and Sam stilled, holding his breath.

Please, Jess, please don't start this conversation with him, definitely not now.

Faith was another one of those no-no subjects with his older brother, as much off-limits as talk of their mother, and it never failed to put Dean in a foul mood. And given his moods of late, it was likely to result in another stifling silence that the rest of them would have to suffer through.

"No, I don't," Dean said, his voice making it clear he wasn't about to indulge Jessica's curiosity, and Sam sighed in relief when Jessica let it go.

"If you have to call Jim, don't hesitate," he told her, slamming shut the door of the trunk. "He'll know what to do if things go south."

He slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Or when," he whispered, and with a clenching of his jaw, he turned the key in the ignition and started to back the car up.

"Wait!" Jess cried, slapping her hand against the back passenger door window. Dean hit the brake with an annoyed huff.

"Fuck," he murmured.

"Don't be a jerk," Sam told him crossly as he started to roll the window down for what he thought would be one last goodbye. She didn't wait for that though.

"I could've run over her foot or something, dickweed," Dean retorted as Jessica flung open the door and slid in, forcing Aubrey and Braden to slide over.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, turning in his seat to look at her.

"You're not leaving me behind."

"Look, we've been over this—it's dangerous, Jess."

"So is life, Sam. And I'm part of this, whether you want me to be or not. I'm coming. I'll do whatever you guys tell me to do, but I'm coming."

"It's not that I don't want you to come, but—"

"Sam," Dean interrupted. "You're not gonna change her mind. Quit arguing with her and just accept it."

"So you're okay with this? Seriously?!"

"Fuck no, but I'm also not gonna sit here and waste my time arguing with her. Any dumbass can see she's made up her mind."

It was scary to realize that Dean knew Jessica well enough to know that.

Has she really been around the family long enough for that to happen?

John suddenly laid on the truck's horn, hollering out of the window. "What's the hold-up? What's she doing?"

"She's coming with us," Dean yelled back. "Go."

Shaking his head, John rolled his window back up and pulled out of the lot.

Even Dad isn't going to try and talk her out of it? What the hell?

Slipping out of her shoes, Jess climbed over the seat to sit between Sam and Dean, leaning down to put them back on as Sam gazed at her. The simple fact that she knew to not put her shoes in the seat of Dean's baby was telling. If Dean hadn't already accepted her, that alone would have sealed the deal for him.

I guess even without marriage vows, she's part of the family, for better or worse.

I just hope this isn't the 'worse' part.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Sam asked her softly.

"Yeah. I know it's dangerous, and I'm not clueless enough to not be scared. But I won't let you go alone. I'm with you until the end."

She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arm around her, praying silently that she'd be okay. Faith might not be Dean's thing, but Sam sure wasn't above asking for divine intervention, not if it would keep Jess safe.

God, I hope Dean's wrong. We can do this. We're ready.

We have to be.

Because he knew well enough that they couldn't afford to lose, not with the stakes so high.


A/N: The title comes from a line in Shakespeare's Hamlet (Act 5, Scene 2). I did my best to edit/revise before posting, but didn't want to delay any longer. I hope you'll forgive any typos. Thanks to everyone that continues to support, read, or review this fic—I do appreciate it!