Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to Love3good, Alicja w Krainie Czarow, ThreeMoons, AshlynPaige92, BlueEyedPisces, angeleyenc, ks90, SPN Mum, Nelle07 and ColtFan165 for all the reviews!

I know – the season premiere has come and gone, and the story still isn't finished! Urgh! But we've only got another four chapters to go, so hold on tight! It's almost over! Kind of… because then there will be a sequel, and so on, so… yeah. On another note, how awesome was that premiere? After season 6, my expectations for Supernatural had gone way downhill, but that episode was pretty cool, right? I'm excited now! All right, I'll stop. Enjoy the chapter! ;)


Chapter 58: Fire of an Unknown Origin

Lynn leaned against the back of Jayne's pickup with her hands shoved in her pockets, and stared up at the dull gray sky. The rain had stopped, but the air was still cool and damp, and the dirt road she was parked on had turned to mud, freckled with brown puddles. The road curved alongside a raised railroad, and she could hear a train whistle blowing in the distance.

John's truck was parked behind her, and he and Sam were rifling through the weapons in the back as they waited on Jayne and Dean. Lynn wasn't helping them. She took a deep breath and exhaled harshly, surveying the brown, marshy grass and the huge rain puddles under the railway. It was wet and miserable, and it suited the somber mood of their little hunting party just fine.

Sam handed something to his father, and then rounded the back bumper of the large black truck, headed her way. Lynn watched him steadily as he advanced, his eyes trained on the mud. "Hey," he greeted her, stopping next to the truck and meeting her eyes briefly.

"Need something?" she asked coolly.

He frowned slightly, his eyes still on the mud. "No, just… are you ok? Dean said this Trevor guy… he was an ex-boyfriend?"

Lynn shrugged, examining the toe on her boot. "High school boyfriend. More a friend, really. He helped us out from time to time."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

She squinted up at him, and he met her eyes. Lynn shrugged again. "You lost your friends too. Jim Murphy, Caleb…"

"That's why this thing has to die," Sam cut her off, and all the sympathy and kindness vanished from his voice. She frowned up at him again, but Sam wasn't looking at her. He was staring at the railroad trestle, his eyes narrowed and his face cold. "It's taken too many people from us as it is, and we can't let it take more."

Well, that was certainly true, she had to admit. Still, the cold look on Sam's face rubbed her wrong. She frowned up at him, trying to understand why seeing him this way made her so uncomfortable. Because he was Sam, she supposed. He wasn't meant to be cold. He was supposed to be warm and empathetic and staring at her with a big pair of puppy eyes.

Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought.

It wasn't that Lynn didn't want the demon dead, because she did. But this whole hunt felt off – too fast and too unorganized. Her brother wasn't going to make it in time. John was leaving. Meg was killing people. Everything felt wrong, Sam especially.

She heard the rumble of Dean's engine just then. Both she and Sam looked up, and she saw the Impala rolling down the mud road and coasting to a stop behind John's truck. Sam instantly marched over to the stopped car, and with great energy, Lynn shoved herself off the truck and followed him.

"You get it?" John demanded as soon as the other two hunters were out of the car.

Dean nodded, pulling a brown paper bag from his coat. He handed it to his father, who slowly drew out the contents. Lynn stepped up beside Sam, watching intently as the Colt replica finally made its appearance.

"You know this is a trap, don't you?" Dean asked, his eyes on his father. "That's why Meg wants you to come alone."

John smirked. "I can handle her. I've got a whole arsenal loaded. Holy water…"

"Dad," Dean interrupted.

"What?"

"Promise me something."

"What's that?"

"If this thing goes south, just… get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed; you're no good to us dead."

Lynn felt very small and awkward just then. John ducked his head. "Same goes for you two," he said.

There was a long silence. John reached into his coat and pulled out the real Colt. "Listen," he announced. "They made the bullets special for this gun. There are only four of them left, and without them, this gun is useless."

Her stomach turned at the new information. Lynn frowned at John, and then exchanged a look with her stepsister. John looked at Sam, and then at Dean.

"You make every shot count," he ordered.

"Yes sir," Sam replied with no hesitation.

Lynn darted her eyes towards him, but Sam's gaze was fixed on his father and the gun in his hand.

"I've been waiting a long time for this fight," John went on. "Now it's here, and I'm not going to be in it. It's up to you, now. It's your fight; you finish this. You finish what I started. You understand?"

There was a sad, empty feeling in Lynn's gut. She swallowed hard against the sudden pain in her chest, trying to catch her breath. It was hitting her too fast and too hard – the fight was coming to an end. The demon was coming tonight. Steve…

Steve wasn't going to be there.

She remembered her father at that moment, back when she was graduating high school, not long before the heart attack that took his life… his black hair tinged with gray, his dark eyes haunted, sitting with the family, all of them hunched over a table at Hannigan's Pub… if anything happens to me, this is what I need you to do…

Lynn swallowed, blinking furiously against the sudden onslaught of tears stinging at her eyes. She could feel Jayne's eyes on her, but she didn't dare meet them. Sam and Dean stared at their father, and he stared back, all three of them silent for a long, tense moment.

John handed Dean the real Colt, slowly and deliberately. Dean's hands closed around the barrel. Lynn watched the eldest Winchester brother turn the gun over in his hands, examining it carefully.

"We'll see you soon, Dad," Sam spoke up, his tone determined.

John nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. Lynn saw the stony look on Dean's face and knew he wasn't buying the whole 'see you later' thing anymore than she was. John gripped Sam's shoulder.

"See you later,' he said. Then John turned on them all and headed for his truck. Lynn watched him swing open the door and nod at them all one last time. The next thing she knew, John had climbed into the driver's seat, slammed the door behind him, and turned the engine over. All four of them stood in the muck, staring at the back bumper of John's truck as he took off down the long muddy road that followed the railroad.

Inhaling shakily, she looked over at the other three. Jayne was leaning on the hood of Dean's car, her hands shoved in her coat pockets and her eyes narrowed into slits, staring after John. When Lynn caught her eye, Jayne barely managed a small smirk.

The boys got in their car, and Jayne joined Lynn in the truck. Seconds later, they were on the road again, Jayne navigating Janis down the wet dirt road.

"I told Steve we'd meet him in Kentucky," Jayne said.

Lynn nodded. "Ok."

They didn't say anything after that. Lynn stared at the dashboard and Jayne tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. The silence in the pickup was tense and heavy and full of all sorts of unsaid things.

Lynn didn't say them. She kind of wanted to – it was in her nature – but the last thing she was going to do was say goodbye.


It was late evening, and the sun had already set. Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, in the dark, his eyes trained on the white split level across the road. His brother sat beside him, drumming his hands impatiently on the steering wheel. Behind them, down the road a little ways, was Jayne's pickup.

The tiny family was bustling around the dining room table, eating dinner and feeding the baby. Sam knew the demon wouldn't come for another few hours, but he had insisted they set up surveillance on the house as soon as possible. They couldn't afford to miss anything.

After all, their father had gone to head off Meg and left them in charge of killing the demon. They couldn't let him down, not now, not after twenty-two years. If they didn't kill that demon tonight, then the risk John was taking would be for nothing.

It wasn't all about his father. Sam shivered slightly, a creepy-crawly sensation traveling down his spine. His thoughts turned to Jessica… her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her big heart… all he could see now was his girlfriend burning alive on the ceiling.

This was ending tonight, one way or another. Either the demon was going to die, or Sam was going to die trying to kill it.

He glanced at Dean, who was staring at the house, trying to look calm. Sam wasn't buying it. "This is weird," he offered.

Dean frowned at him. "What?"

"After all these years, we're finally here. It doesn't seem real."

His brother glanced down. "We've just got to keep our heads and do our job, just like we always do."

Then he turned back to the window so he could watch the house.

"Yeah," Sam murmured, and he couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his lips. "But this isn't like always."

Dean glanced at him again. "True."

They were silent for a moment. Sam knew – and so did Dean, he was sure – that this night could end a lot of different ways, and most of those ways were anything but good. He took a deep breath. "Dean, uh… I want to thank you."

His brother frowned at him again. "For what?"

Sam smirked slightly, shrugging. "For everything." Dean continued to stare at him, but Sam wasn't deterred. "You've always had my back," he pushed on. "Even when I couldn't count on anyone, I could always count on you, and… uh… I don't know. I just wanted to let you know. Just in case."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean snapped, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"Don't say just in case something happens to you! I don't want to hear that freaking speech, man! Nobody's dying tonight! Not you, not me, not Jayne or Lynn, not that family – nobody!"

Sam stared at him, moving his mouth slightly as he tried to think of a reply. Dean kept going. "Except that demon," he finished. "That evil son of a bitch isn't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?"

He was a little thrown by his brother's violent reaction, but he had a point. Saying goodbye… it wasn't necessary, and all it did was stir things up that didn't need to be stirred. Sam slowly nodded, and Dean turned away, still looking pissed. They both returned their attention to the house, lapsing into tense, anxious silence once again.

It was going to be a long night.


Jayne eyed the little white house across the street from the driver's seat of her truck. Through the large windows she could see the tiny family inside bustling about, getting ready for bed. It was dark out, but still fairly early. Lynn sat beside her, fiddling with her hair as she stared at the house as well. They were parked down the street a little ways, some distance from the Impala parked in front of them, in an attempt to avoid suspicion.

"Does this even feel real to you right now?" Lynn asked suddenly.

She glanced at her sister out of the corner of her eye and then shrugged, leaning back in the seat. "Kind of, sort of. I don't know."

There was a long silence. Lynn continued to fidget in the seat beside her, and then breathed a loud sigh. "I'm freaking out," she admitted.

Jayne looked at her a moment. "That's reasonable."

"What if the gun doesn't work? What if Meg doesn't buy the fake gun thing? What if Sam's vision was wrong, or…"

"Lynn," Jayne interrupted. "Shut up."

Her sister huffed, offended. Jayne rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to be a better person. "Sorry. Look, I just meant… if we sit here all night, worrying about the what-ifs, we'll have chickened out by the time the demon gets here."

"Maybe we should chicken out," Lynn returned. "I mean… this is big, Jaynie. This demon… the Colt… I feel like I'm walking into a landmine."

Jayne stared at her sister, who was nervously threading her fingers together. "You know we have to do this."

Lynn nodded without looking up. "For Mom," Jayne pressed. "And Russ."

"I know," Lynn breathed. "I get that. I want the damn thing dead, I just… I feel like we're going about it all wrong. Something is off here."

"Yeah, something is off here," Jayne retorted. "Steve's not here and John ran off to hand some demon bitch a fake gun. This whole thing is all sorts of off."

The truck cab plunged into silence. Jayne returned her attention to the house, her focus split between the nursery and the living room windows. She couldn't deny that Lynn's anxiety was catching – that this was dangerous, this was overwhelming, this felt surreal, this felt off…

Her cell phone rang. Jayne snatched it up, answering it without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Jaynie? It's Deedee."

Jayne frowned. "Deedee? What is it? Did something else happen?"

Lynn looked up at her with huge, anxious eyes.

"It's Daddy," Deedee admitted, her voice trembling. "Jaynie, I can't find him."

Jayne's breath hitched, and her stomach turned. "What?'

"He went to go check out a hunt nearby… that was hours ago, and now he's not answering his phone. I went to check the location, but all I found was his car, abandoned… there's no trace of him, Jayne! I'm worried something's happened to him."

Jayne's nausea kicked up another notch. The crap just kept piling on, didn't it? Rufus was missing, and she was stuck out in Iowa, waiting for that stupid demon…

"Jaynie?" Deedee asked hesitantly.

"Sorry," Jayne said quickly. "You sure he's… you can't find anything?"

"No, I… look, I'm so sorry to ask, but…"

It wasn't a big deal, really. Jayne had been planning on swinging by the Hannigan place after this hunt wrapped up anyway. But if Rufus was hurt… she had to go, but… it wasn't like she could leave now

"Call Steve," Jayne said abruptly. "He should be on his way to the pub anyway, but call him. Ask him where he is and tell him what's going on."

"Right, I will… but, Jaynie…"

"Lynn and I are coming," Jayne assured her. "We'll help you, but we need to wrap something up before we get on the road. Steve will take care of things until we get there."

Deedee breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Thank you."

"Just sit tight."

Her old friend mumbled an affirmation and then hung up the phone. Jayne sighed heavily, tossing her phone into the cup holder. Lynn stared at her with huge, panicked eyes. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Jayne met her sister's eyes, trying to keep her face blank. "Rufus is missing."

Lynn squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled harshly, slumping back against the seat. Jayne looked away, focusing on the steering column, her hands curling into fists. Everything was going wrong. Lynn was right, Dean was right; this whole thing, it felt like a trap.

Yet she couldn't shake the belief that if she just killed that demon, all this crap would go away.


Dean really hoped Sam couldn't see his fingers shaking around the cell phone he was holding to his ear. He listened intently to the ringing on the other end, hanging up when he heard the voicemail message.

"Dad's not answering," he announced, pocketing the phone. He turned his anxious eyes back on the dark house across the road, trying to focus on watching for the demon.

"Maybe Meg was late," Sam offered. "Maybe cell reception's bad."

"Yeah," Dean muttered half-heartedly. "Maybe."

He glared out the window. The house remained still. After a moment, however, the wind began to pick up outside.

"Dean, wait," Sam said suddenly. "Listen."

He turned away from the window and glanced at the dashboard. His radio was on and glowing under the dashboard light, the speaker buzzing with static. Sam fiddled with the dial. When he withdrew his hand, the needle began to travel on its own. Dean gawked at the radio in shock, his skin crawling as a man's voice sounded out over the static, his words unintelligible. The wind blew harder, leaves scattering across the hood of the car. The street lamps began to flicker on and off. Dean looked back at the tiny house across the road, his stomach turning over at the sight of the lights all turning on and rapidly flickering.

"It's coming," Sam announced, and they both leapt out of the car.

He heard the doors on Jayne's truck slam and knew the two women were right behind them. The four of them rushed the house, the wind blowing all around them. Dean reached the front door first and bent over the lock, picking it as fast as he could. It still took too long. Too many seconds later, the lock clicked and he pushed the door open.

The entry was dark. Sam headed in first, taking long-legged strides towards the stairs. Dean glanced over his shoulder at Jayne, who was stepping through the door directly behind him. Lynn squeezed in next and made a beeline for Sam as Jayne gently shut the door.

He felt like there was something down there, in the darkened living room, watching and waiting for them. Hesitantly, he inched forward into the room, nerves tingling as he listened for an attack.

The attack came in the form of a baseball bat flying at his head. Dean ducked just in time to see Monica's husband smash the bat into a nearby table lamp.

"Get out of my house!"

The man swung again, but Dean caught the bat and slammed the man into the wall, squeezing the bat against his windpipe.

"Be quiet and listen to me, be quiet and listen to me," Dean said in a hushed tone. "We are trying to help you."

"Charlie? Everything ok down there?"

A woman's voice echoed down the stairs. Dean exchanged a panicked look with his brother.

"Monica, get the baby!" Charlie hollered.

"No!" Sam bellowed. "No, don't go in the nursery!"

He ran up the stairs, Jayne and Lynn on his heels. "You stay away from her!" Charlie called after them, fighting against Dean's grip.

Dean had had enough. He cuffed the guy on the head, knocking the poor bastard out cold. Then he hefted the man onto his shoulders and marched for the front door.

Five seconds in and already everything had gone to pot.


Sam rushed upstairs, gasping heavily with fear. From down the second story hall he could hear Monica cry out from the nursery.

The Colt was cold and heavy in his hand. He ran along the dark, narrow corridor, his stomach turning, and burst in through the nursery door.

Monica was on the wall, her head and shoulders inching onto the ceiling. Standing over Rosie's crib was a dark, shadowy man. Sam swallowed, hard, the Colt shaking in his hands. The man by the crib looked him in the eye, and even though Sam couldn't make out any other feature, he did see the glowing yellow eyes set in the man's shadowy face.

Sam pointed the Colt and fired.

The demon vanished in a wisp of black smoke.

Monica fell off the wall with a scream and landed in a crumpled heap on the nursery floor.

"Where the hell did it go?" Sam demanded. He glanced all around the room, Colt still clutched in his hands. His head was spinning, and his stomach was still jumping inside of him. When he turned to Monica, he found Jayne standing behind him and helping the young mother to her feet. There was a blur of movement to his right and Sam whirled just in time to see Lynn dart past him and rush for the crib.

Dean rushed into the room as Lynn hefted the baby out of her crib and darted back towards the door. Jayne was tugging Monica back into the hall, Lynn racing ahead of her with the baby in her arms. Sam didn't move from his spot in the room, still looking all around for the demon.

The crib burst into flames.

"Come on!" Dean barked, shoving him into the hallway. "Go! Now!"

Sam stumbled down the hall, Dean still pushing him. The acrid stench of smoke assaulted his nostrils and he choked slightly as they started down the stairs. Suffocating heat was filling the house as the flames in the nursery sent dim light flickering down the hall, casting weird shadows on the walls.

Finally he and Dean burst through the front door, the cool night air a relief against his feverish skin. Lynn was handing Monica her baby and her husband was struggling up on his feet.

"Get away from my family!" he bellowed.

"Charlie, don't!" Monica exclaimed. "They saved us!"

Sam blinked at the tiny family. Monica took Rosie from Lynn and headed to her husband's side. Charlie wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you," Monica said.

He supposed he ought to feel good about this small victory – Monica and her family were alive, they'd stopped the demon before it could hurt them… but the demon had gotten away… he'd wasted a bullet…

Head and stomach spinning, Sam turned away from the tiny family, his eyes traveling up towards the nursery window. He could see the flames licking the ceiling, smoke billowing out the broken glass, warped and flaming curtains hanging over the windowsill.

That's when the black shadow appeared in the window.

Sam's grip on the gun tightened. "It's still in there!"

He was running back for the front door before he even fully realized it. Vaguely he could hear Dean and Lynn shouting at him, could feel his brother grabbing at his coat, but it was all white noise. The demon was still in there, still alive, and he had to kill it, fire be damned.

After all, he'd promised himself. Either he killed that demon tonight, or he died trying.


Jayne could smell smoke and hear the crackling of the flames. Blistering heat rolled off the burning building in gusts of wind. She barely remembered escaping the house. She did remember the black man-shaped shadow over the crib; she remembered the shadow looking up with a glowing pair of yellow eyes. She remembered the gunshot.

She sort of remembered hauling Monica out of the house, Lynn running up ahead with the baby, Dean shoving Sam down the hall behind her. That part was all a blur.

The demon was not dead. The demon had got away.

"It's still in there!"

Sam's shout snapped her out of her numb shock. Jayne looked up at the tall young man, and then at the nursery window. For a brief moment she saw the shadow in the midst of the flames. Then it was gone.

"Sam! No!"

Startled and half out of it, Jayne looked away from the window to see Dean struggling with his younger brother, trying to wrestle him away from the burning house. Sam was fighting to shove him off, trying desperately to get inside, to get to the demon…

Jayne didn't have the Colt – why had she let someone else carry the gun? She didn't have the Colt, but still her feet carried her slowly forward – two steps, maybe three.

"Dean, let me go!"

"Sam, stop this!"

Her stepsister had joined in on the shouting, darting in front of Sam and pressing her hands into his chest, trying to push him back from the blaze.

"It's still in there!" Sam shouted again.

"It's burning to the ground!" Dean bellowed back, shoving him back several steps. "It's suicide!"

"I don't care!"

"I do!"

Sam had stopped struggling, and Dean was standing in front of him, glowering at him. Lynn was there too, her feet planted firmly on the ground and her arms folded over her chest. Sam glowered back at both of them, his eyes traveling back to the nursery window. Jayne followed his gaze. The black shadow was still there.

And then it wasn't.

It didn't flicker or vanish in a puff of smoke. One second it was there and the next it was gone.

Jayne stared at the flaming window. She clenched her fists at her sides, her stomach aching hollowly. She swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry.

"Jaynie!" Lynn called.

She turned to her sister. Dean was now dragging Sam back to the Impala, wrestling the Colt from his hands, and Lynn was on her cell phone, probably calling the fire department. Jayne nodded at her and marched towards the truck.

A stupid, suicidal, angry little part of her wanted to rush back into the burning building.

She didn't. Instead, Jayne swung open the driver's side door on her truck and perched herself on the edge of the bench seat, her long legs hanging out into the street. She stared at the split-level house and watched it burn.

When the fire department arrived and Monica had assured Lynn that they would be fine, all four hunters left. Jayne followed the Impala back to the motel, the cab of the truck stinking like smoke. Lynn was talking about Rufus and Kentucky and Steve, and worrying about how Dean and Sam would take the news of them leaving.

Jayne responded with noncommittal grunts, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to offer much in the way of conversation. Lynn was right of course. They were leaving the boys in a lurch, and if it wasn't for Rufus, she would stay right here, in Iowa.

But it was Rufus who had gone missing, and that was a deal breaker.

Her head hurt – probably from smoke inhalation, but Jayne didn't think that was entirely the problem. She had been in the room – she had seen the demon with her own two eyes. It had seen her.

Yellow eyes. What the hell kind of demon had yellow eyes?

Not that it mattered – what mattered was that once again the yellow eyed demon had slipped through her fingers. Jayne shook her head, alternately tightening and loosening her grip on the steering wheel.

All she felt was empty.


Dean could not believe what he was hearing.

"You're going where?" he demanded, glaring at the two women in front of him.

He and Sam were standing in the stepsisters' motel room, watching them pack their things, and chafing under Lynn's sudden announcement that the two of them were leaving.

"Kentucky," Jayne said shortly, not looking up from her duffel.

Of course they were going to Kentucky. They'd failed to kill the demon, and his father was missing, so of course the only two people who could help Sam and him were leaving. Dean clenched his fists at his sides, shaking his head. "You're telling us this now?"

"Look, we were planning to meet Steve after the hunt," Lynn spoke up gently. "But we weren't going to leave before we found your father. It's just that now… it's Rufus. Deedee called us while we were waiting for the demon. He's missing, and there's a damn good chance Meg or something else that works for the demon has something to do with it and…. and… damn it, it's Rufus. We can't not go!"

She'd started out calm, her voice gentle, but by the end of the speech she was shouting, her tone high pitched and frantic. Dean's glower softened, but he was still annoyed.

"I'm sorry," Lynn breathed. "It's just… it's Rufus."

"It's ok," Sam spoke up, in a raspy undertone. "We get it. You should go."

They shouldn't go – that Dean knew for sure. This was absolute bullshit. He was pissed at both of them. They'd just gotten back from failing at killing the demon they'd been hunting their whole lives. His father had left to hand a fake gun to a crazy demon skank, and now he wasn't answering his phone. They should be sticking together, regrouping, marching into Lincoln, Nebraska to save his father.

"I'm so sorry," Lynn whispered, and Dean looked up in surprise when he realized she was talking to him.

She really did look sorry, he had to admit. She looked torn and conflicted and like she might shed tears. Dean tucked his chin, lowering his eyes to the carpet. "It's Rufus," he echoed her earlier sentiment. "We understand."

He did understand. He just didn't like it.

"If John doesn't pick up his phone… if something happened to him… you two call us, ok?" Lynn pressed. "You call us the moment you need our help, and we'll come running."

Dean nodded. So did Sam. Lynn stared at them both, a little desperately, and then she nodded too, returning to her packing.

Sam stared at her back a moment, scratching at his hair. Then he stalked out the motel room door, letting it fall shut, too hard, behind him.

Dean just stood there, staring at Jayne, who wasn't looking at him. Lynn finished packing her bag and then disappeared outside, her duffel slung over her shoulder. "I'm sorry," Jayne murmured once her sister had left. Her eyes were still on her bag. "If it wasn't Rufus…"

She trailed off and swallowed. Dean nodded, although she couldn't see it. "We get it," he said evenly.

"When you need us, call us. Lynn's right; we'll come."

The way she wouldn't look at him was infuriating, but the way she said when rather than if was somehow reassuring. Somehow, when felt like a promise, where if felt like a polite brush-off. Dean stared at her a moment, feeling too many things at once – anger, disappointment, fear…

They were going to leave, and he really wanted them to stay.

Dean pushed himself off the wall and crossed the room, approaching the bed slowly, reaching behind him and pulling the Colt from its place in his waistband. Jayne didn't even look at him. She kept frantically stuffing crap into her duffel, gnawing her lower lip. He reached her side and seized her wrist. Surprised, she dropped the shirt she'd been holding and looked at him with wide, startled eyes. Dean pressed the Colt against her palm. "Here," he murmured.

She frowned at him, slowly lowering her eyes to look at the Colt. "Take it," he insisted. "You might need… there might be…" He cut himself off before he could say it. Demons. There might be demons.

Jayne didn't take the gun. She stared at it for a while, her eyes still wide and her lower lip still caught in her teeth. He could see the hunger in her eyes as she studied the Colt. She wanted to take it. She was thinking about it.

But she didn't take it. Dean nearly laughed, except it wasn't really that funny. Ironic, yeah, that she wouldn't take the gun now when yesterday she'd been adamant that she would. She'd faced off with his father over the damn thing in the middle of the woods, both of them yelling and glaring, each one too stubborn to concede. But now, she wouldn't take it.

"No," she whispered. "No, your father… if he doesn't… you need it more than me."

Dean stared at her. She stared back, and for a long moment they just stood there in the motel room, their eyes focused on one another. Finally, she tore her eyes away from his and returned to packing.

Slowly, he turned away and headed to the foot of the bed. He sat on the edge, turning the Colt over in his hands. It terrified him, that she wouldn't take the gun. The thought that she would take the gun had also terrified him, but now that he knew she wouldn't, he was scared for a whole new reason. He stared at the bottom of the dark paneled wall, where the ugly checked carpet hit the baseboard. From behind him he heard the drag of a zipper. He felt the mattress lift as Jayne removed the weight of her duffel bag. Dean didn't turn around.

Her hand fell heavily on his shoulder. Surprised, Dean slowly turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder. Jayne met his eyes dead on.

"I'm coming back," she told him.

For a long, silent moment, he just stared at her. She stared back.

"You better," he returned.

She held his gaze only a moment longer. Then Jayne dropped her hand, turned away, and walked out the door.


Lynn lifted her duffle off her shoulder and hefted it into the bed of the truck. The bag landed with a loud, heavy clunk against the plastic bed-liner. Sighing, she stepped back from the truck, standing awkwardly in the dark parking lot. One lone green parking light buzzed over her head. She frowned at the motel, waiting for her sister to appear.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Whirling around, her hand hovering over the Glock in her waistband, she found herself face to face with Sam.

"Hey," she breathed in relief. "What are you doing out here?"

He shrugged temperamentally. "Cooling off, I guess."

She nodded, dropping her eyes to the pavement. Sam leaned against the light post, shoving his hands into his coat.

"I'm sorry," she said again. For some reason, she just couldn't stop apologizing. There was nothing to be done about the situation – they had to go to Kentucky – but circumstances didn't lessen her guilt over the whole thing.

Again, Sam shrugged. "You don't have to keep apologizing. We get it."

Lynn nodded again, but she didn't believe him. She didn't believe Dean either. Both Winchesters were putting on a brave face, but she knew they had secretly been counting on Jayne and her having their backs. John still wasn't answering his phone, and that meant Sam and Dean needed their help.

But Rufus needed help too, and for right now, he had to come first. Later, after they got the Kentucky mess sorted out…

"Just call if something happens," Lynn said.

"We will."

Silence. Lynn shuffled awkwardly, sneaking glances at Sam's face. He didn't look at her. She sighed, slumping against the back of the truck. "Everything's got to turn out ok, Sam."

He looked up at her then, his eyes blazing. "How?"

She didn't have an answer to that. Feeling uncomfortable all over again, she dropped her gaze and poked at the loose gravel in the parking lot with her boot.

"We lost the demon," Sam pressed angrily. She winced, not looking up. "It got away. I wasted a bullet. My dad is missing. You're leaving. So far, everything seems pretty screwed up to me, Lynn."

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

"It doesn't matter," Sam spat. "It doesn't change anything. You and Dean should have let me go."

Then he turned away from her and marched back towards the motel. Lynn didn't look up from the pavement. She stared at the asphalt under her shoes and blinked back tears. It wasn't just Sam – although he was a part of it. But there was also an overwhelming sense of failure to contend with.

Too many moments later, she heard the motel room door slam. Looking up, Lynn saw her stepsister barreling towards her, carrying her duffel. Lynn straightened, pushing herself off the truck and taking a deep, calming breath. Jayne reached the truck and tossed her bag in the bed.

"You ok?" she asked without making eye contact.

Lynn nodded.

"Let's go."

Jayne headed for the driver's side and Lynn went around to the other side of the truck. They climbed into the cab and Jayne started the engine. Lynn leaned back in the seat as Jayne wheeled the truck out of the parking lot and turned sharply onto the main road.

The night felt like it was pressing in on all sides. Lynn took another deep breath, blinking at the empty road that lay ahead of them. She could still feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and her chest ached with pent-up sobs.

Jayne was silent, her eyes fixed on the road, her hands tight on the wheel. Lynn subtly wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye and looked out the passenger side window. Her hand was pressed into her chest, trying to rub away the ache that refused to dissipate.

She said nothing when a tear rolled down Jayne's cheek.


Sam sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and glowering at the carpet. He was barely paying attention to his brother, who was pacing the motel room with his cell pressed to his ear, swearing at their father for not picking up the phone.

"Something's wrong," Dean announced.

He ignored the proclamation, still glaring at the floor.

"You hear me?" Dean demanded. "Something's happened."

"If you had just let me go in there, I could have ended all this."

He believed every low, guttural word that fell from his lips. He could have ended it. The nightmare would finally be over. If Dean and Lynn hadn't tried to hold him back… well, the demon would be dead.

"Sam," Dean retorted. "The only thing you were going to end was your life."

Exactly the point. But Sam didn't say that. He just looked up at Dean – who had already turned his back on him – and said, "You don't know that."

Dean turned back on him, clearly pissed. "So, what? You're just willing to sacrifice yourself? Is that it?"

"Yeah," Sam snapped, getting to his feet. "You're damn right I am."

"Yeah, well, that's not going to happen, not as long as I'm around."

"What are you talking about?" Sam exclaimed. "We've been searching for this demon our whole lives! It's the only thing we've ever cared about!"

"Sam, I want to waste it, I do. Ok? But it's not worth dying over!"

"What?"

"I mean it! If hunting this demon means you getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing!"

Dean was glaring and furious, but Sam was angrier. He stared Dean down, his words coming too slow and too calm. "That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom."

There was a short, pregnant pause. Dean looked Sam right in the eye. "You said it yourself once. That no matter what we do, they're gone and they're never coming back."

Ever since the demon escaped, a quiet rage had been building inside Sam, and now he had finally reached the breaking point. He saw red, and he flew at his brother, grabbing dean by the lapels of his button-down and slamming him into the wall.

"Don't you say that!" he bellowed. "Don't you… not after all this! Don't you say that!"

His chest was heaving angrily. Dean just stared at him. 'Sam, look," he said. "The five of us – that's all we have."

Sam tried to hold onto his anger, but he could feel tears burning his eyes. He inhaled shakily, his grip on his brother's shirt slackening.

"It's all I have," Dean pushed. He sounded so broken. "Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, man. Without you and Dad…"

Sam took a deep breath, choking on the tears that were insisting on rolling down his cheeks. "Dad," he whispered, letting go of his brother and marching to the other side of the room. He paced, gripping the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself.

It didn't escape his notice that Dean had said the five of us, and if he was being honest, that wasn't surprising. Sam, Dean, and their father – they were a family, but Jayne and Lynn had been in the thick of things with them for a while now, and it felt right, in a weird way. They were part of the unit now too, and that's why it hurt so much. Jayne and Lynn had left when they needed them. He and Dean needed them, and they were gone.

"Dad should have called by now," he said out loud. "Try him again."

Dean didn't reply. He stared at a spot on the carpet, unseeingly, and then pulled out his phone to dial their dad for the hundredth time that night.

It was the worst possible time for Jayne and Lynn to have bailed on them, Sam realized. Something had definitely happened to their father, and now they were halfway to Kentucky, and he and Dean were alone.

He felt angry all over again and had to start pacing, taking huge, deep breaths, to keep from punching a hole in the wall.

"Where is he?"

Dean's low, raspy, demanding question immediately caught Sam's attention. He turned back to his brother, who met his eyes from across the room. They stood like that a full moment, and then Dean slowly slid the phone down from his ear and hung up, his eyes wide and frightened.

"They've got Dad."