Thank you ShadowHuntingDauntlessDemigod for beta'ing and Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading. You ladies are the best xxx

With the UK now joining the list of countries in lockdown, I would like to repeat my words from before. If any of you are on lockdown, in quarantine, or self isolating at the moment, drop me a PM/Review as I have something I'd like to offer you.


Chapter Nineteen

Sam saw the shock on Dean's face and he smiled, his tears drying on his cheeks now as he felt the relief of getting the secret out there and seeing Dean's reaction was shock not an instant need to destroy. He knew instinctually that it was going to be okay. Dean was going to take care of him.

He remembered how it had felt to know she was still there, and now Dean was feeling that same thrill of shocked joy. It was incredible, unreal, and now Dean felt it, too. Sam was happy to share that with him at last. He was glad he'd told him. He owed Dean the truth. It had been selfish to hide it for so long, selfish to run from him. He should have known Dean would take care of him. He knew what it meant to Sam to have lost Jessica, and he would be just as happy to know she was still there, with Sam. The fact he had been so scared seemed silly to him now.

"How?" Dean asked weakly.

"She's a ghost. But she's real to me," Sam said in a rush of words.

Dean nodded slowly, still in shock, Sam could tell. "Can I see her?"

"Yes!"

Sam was eager to share her now. And Jessica would be relieved. She would know as soon as she saw Dean that she would be safe. Dean would never hurt Sam or her. He knew the truth now. Sam didn't have to hide it anymore, to lie by words or omission. That was a huge relief. He hated to lie, especially to his brother. They were always honest with each other.

He hurried across the room to the bathroom and knocked, "You can come out now," he said gently. "It's all going to be okay, Jess."

He waited, beaming at Dean, wanting to see his happiness when he saw she was really there, but the door remained closed and there was no sound of movement inside.

Frowning, he opened the door and sighed, "Oh. She's gone."

Dean crossed the room and peered past him into the bathroom. "Gone where?"

"She does this sometimes," Sam explained. "She goes into this other place, and then is back in the cemetery. She always comes back though. I have to find her." He checked his watch. "It's too early though. She'll be there later, tonight." He smiled. "I'll tell you when she's back and you can speak to her. It's the most amazing thing, Dean. She's so… she's my Jess."

Dean walked back to the table and fell into a chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose, disappointed, Sam knew, and said cautiously, "Tell me everything, Sammy."

Sam sat across from him and wrangled his thoughts into a cohesive strand to follow. "I was dreaming of her when we were in Lawrence. The night Mom told us the truth about her deal, I had a vision. She was in the cemetery, watching her parents at her grave, and she looked so sad. I knew it was real… well, I hoped it was. I didn't really believe until she was there with me. I came and she was here."

"Just like that?"

"No, not at first. I had to wait for her. I sat in the cemetery for days waiting, and she never came, but one night I saw her again, a vision, and when I went back to the cemetery, she came." He drew a quick breath and launched into his story again. "She's real to me, Dean. I can touch her, feel her. It's like she's really alive still."

Dean shook his head slowly. "Ghosts aren't like that, Sam."

"I know, but I have my gifts. Missouri can talk to spirits and sense them, I bet she can feel them, too. I'm like her. I can do things normal people can't. It makes it…" He shivered. "I have her back, Dean."

Dean stared into his eyes and said, "Are you sure about this, Sammy? It's not a… dream or something."

"No," Sam said. "You'll see. It's all real. I'm not crazy."

Dean looked thoughtful. "No, you're not," he agreed. "I heard a voice before when I knocked, but this is just so incredible. It's hard to wrap your mind around."

"I know," Sam said, reaching across and squeezing his arm. "But it's happening."

He felt lighter than he had for weeks. Dean knew now—Sam wasn't hiding her like a dirty secret—and he understood. He hadn't once spoken about Sam letting her go. Sam should have trusted him sooner. Dean could have known this whole time. Sam had been so scared they would take her away from him when he should have known better. Dean wouldn't hurt him. He said so. Dean wound never hurt him, but…

"You can't tell Mom or Bobby!" he said quickly. "They can't know she's back. Not yet anyway. They might not understand."

"I'm not sure I understand," Dean admitted.

"You will," Sam said. "When you see her, it will be different. But they might take her away from me. They might…" He couldn't put his fear that they would salt and burn her into words. It was as if he was inviting it by putting the thought into the universe.

Dean's eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "You don't trust them."

"I want to, but this is too important to risk. How many ghosts do you think they've dealt with in their lives? Do you really think they'd trust one now? They won't understand that Jess is different. She's not like a vengeful spirit. She's just as good now as she was when she was alive." He sighed happily. "She still loves me, even though she knows I let her down."

Dean stared into his eyes, seeming to be weighing something in his mind, and then he nodded. "I trust you, Sam. If you believe she's not vengeful, I believe you."

Sam sighed with relief. "Thank you."

Dean nodded. "Okay. You need to sort yourself out, and I can't leave them waiting outside forever. We'll get ourselves rooms and then we'll go get something to eat. Mom and Bobby need to talk to you properly. We've all been going pretty crazy worrying about you all this time. And you want them to see you looking better than this." Dean gestured Sam from head to foot.

Sam nodded eagerly. "Yeah. I will."

He wasn't worried about facing his mother and dealing with his confused feelings about her now. He understood her better now. He didn't forgive her for lying all those years, but he knew why she had. He could deal with that though, he could deal with anything now that he knew Dean would let Jessica stay.

"I'll come back in an hour and see if you're ready," Dean said. "Is there anywhere around here that's good to eat?"

Sam considered a moment. He'd not been eating out anywhere nice, but he remembered a steak house close to Jessica's parents' place that was nice. They could go there.

"I know a place," he said. "They have steak."

Dean smiled, though it looked a little forced, and said, "Great. Get yourself sorted out and we'll go." He got to his feet and walked to the door, stopping with his hand on the lock. "Thanks for telling me the truth, Sammy. I'll take care of it."

Sam walked to his brother and pulled him into a hug, happiness rushing through him. Dean held him tight and then pulled back as Sam said, "Thank you, Dean. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"I get it," Dean said, pulling open the door and stepping outside.

As it swung closed behind him, Sam allowed himself a moment to absorb his relief and joy. Dean knew now, and he was going to make it okay. Sam would be able to tell Jessica she was safe and that she could see Dean, too. That would make her happy.

It was all going to work out.


Clark was leaning against the Jeep, smoking and humming to himself. He seemed perfectly relaxed, no sign of worry in him at all. Mary was feeling the opposite. Her every nerve was taut with tension. She had no idea what was happening in the room she stood outside of, what Sam and Dean were saying, and she desperately wanted to know.

Bobby strode out of the office and handed key cards to Mary and Clark. "I got us forty through forty-two," he said. "Me and Dean are sharing. You two have got kings. You're forty-one, Clark."

"Thank you," Mary said distractedly.

Clark stubbed out his cigarette and said, "In that case, I'm going to crash since my services as an astral watchdog are no longer required."

Bobby nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Clark. We appreciate what you've done."

Clark lifted an arm in farewell as he walked towards the room and then he stopped and turned back as the door to Sam's room opened and Dean came out. Mary waited, hoping Sam would come, too, but Dean was alone. He looked tense and didn't respond to Mary's queries of whether he was okay. He just raised one finger, indicating that he needed a moment, then walked away, past the office and around the corner. Bobby and Mary exchanged a glance and followed him.

When they reached him, Dean was looking up at the small bathroom windows on the rear of the rooms, counting quietly, and then he came to a stop and looked down at the dirty ground below one window.

"Figured," he said in a strained tone and stood on tiptoes and ran a hand across the windowsill.

"What's going on, son?" Bobby asked.

Dean rubbed his fingers together, sprinkling a small path of salt on to the ground where it landed in a clear footprint. "We've got a problem," he said.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked.

Dean glanced up at the window again and shook his head. "Not here."

"I've got us rooms," Bobby said.

"Good."

They followed Bobby back around the motel to where Clark waited, looking amused. "What's the new crisis?" he asked. "There is one, right? Your family always seems to have one crisis or another going on."

Bobby unlocked one of the doors and gestured them in. Clark shrugged and went in first then Mary followed after Dean and Bobby, closing the door behind her. Clark was sitting in a chair at the table, his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands folded on his lap. Bobby was on the opposite chair and Dean was pacing back and forth in front of the two beds.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked again from her place by the door, too nervous to sit down.

Dean stopped and raked a hand through his hair before saying, "Something's going on."

Clark huffed a laugh, "Something is always going on with you guys. Tell me, do you ever have slow days?"

Dean shot him a glare and said, "Sam thinks he's seeing Jess."

Mary sucked in a breath, worry filling her.

"He's hallucinating?" Bobby asked, his own confusion and concern in his voice.

"Hallucinations don't leave footprints," Dean said. "Nor do ghosts." He dropped down onto the foot of the closest bed and hid his face in his hands as he cursed.

"Tell us everything," Bobby said.

Dean looked up and drew a slow breath before saying, "Sam thinks Jess is a ghost. She's been with him for weeks, pretty much since he arrived here, and he had visions of her before that. He can touch her, feel her; she's real to him."

"That's impossible," Mary whispered. "Ghosts aren't like that."

"I know," Dean said. "He thinks it's his gift, that he's like Missouri, but we know about Missouri's connection with spirits. She can sense them, talk to them and hear them, but she can't touch them. I knew it was wrong even before I saw the footprints, but now…" He cursed. "There is someone with Sam that he's able to touch and talk to, but it's not a ghost."

Clark huffed a laugh, "Just when I think things can't get any crazier, stuff like this happens."

"It's not funny!" Bobby snapped. "Sam loved Jess, and now some monster is making him think she's back."

"What monster though?" Mary asked. "Who would do this to him?"

There was silence for a minute as they all considered. Mary was thinking of the options. She thought it had to be a demon. Azazel would enjoy having someone close to Sam, watching him and perhaps guiding him to his plans. He had already interfered with Sam by orchestrating visions of people he cared about getting hurt. Perhaps he wanted a closer connection to him.

"A demon," Bobby said, clearly following the same train of thought.

"Is that possible?" Dean asked. "There can't have been much of a body left for them to possess after the fire. Could they heal it enough to make him believe she's there?"

"I don't think so," Clark said. "They can survive serious injuries, but they don't heal them. They just live with them. I can't see them being able to use someone that had been roasted like that."

Mary flinched at his callous words. She knew he wasn't sensitive, he'd shown that again and again, but to speak of how Jessica died the way he did was cruel.

"It's got to be a shapeshifter," Clark went on. "They obviously got hold of Jessica before she was killed and took her shape and got the memory download." He looked impressed. "It's pretty genius. If it was Azazel that lined this up, they could get into Sam's head easily like that. He's not going to ask too many questions if he thinks the woman he loves is back from the dead. I know I wouldn't."

"Why would a shapeshifter do it, though?" Dean asked. "Do monsters usually work with demons?"

"Not that I've heard," Bobby said. "But they could find a way. Maybe they're threatening it. Maybe they're paying it. Either way, we've got to do something about it. We have to stop it."

Mary winced. "Kill Jessica?"

"It's not really her, Mary," Bobby said patiently.

She knew that, but to Sam it was. He would be so happy to have her back; it would be a miracle to him. He had hidden her for weeks. He loved her. If he believed this was really Jess, he would love this shapeshifter, too. How were they supposed to kill it knowing that? It was going to break him.

"Sam doesn't know that," Dean said. "You didn't see him when he was talking about her. Happy doesn't even begin to cover it. He was elated, obsessed, almost maniacal. He didn't want me to tell you because he thought you were going to make her go, salt and burn her. This is even worse than if we could do that. We're not moving her on to a better place, or even hoping to. We're sending her wherever monsters go when they die." He sighed. "It's not her, I know, but it feels like it is when I think of doing this to him. It's going to…"

"Destroy him," Mary supplied. "I know."

Dean cursed. "I don't want to do this to him."

Mary felt the same. She didn't want to do this to Sam either, to take away his love all over again. She didn't know if he would ever recover from it. He had lost too much already, suffered too much. How could they take away what was keeping him whole and happy?

"You've got no choice," Clark stated. "I can feel how twisted up you all are about this, and I get it, but you can't leave him with that thing a moment longer. It's sick."

"I know," Mary said quietly. "We have to find it. Where is it now, Dean?"

"I don't know. It was in the bathroom when I got in there, but it obviously high-tailed it out of the window. Sam said she goes sometimes and ends up in the cemetery again. We have to get there and…"

"Kill it," Clark said darkly. "Yes, you do. And you better do it before Sam get there."

"It won't be there yet," Dean said. "Sam said she wouldn't be there till later. I guess she waits till dark to keep up the story of being a ghost, drawn back to her bones when she disappears."

"It's not she," Clark said pointedly. "It's an it."

"I know," Dean growled. "But the problem is the same no matter what I call her. We have to wait until she's there later. And we have to get there before Sam."

"What's he doing now?" Mary asked.

"Cleaning up," Dean said. "I told him we'd give him an hour and then we'd all go get something to eat together."

"All of us?" Mary asked hopefully.

Dean looked disappointed, and her heart sank as she realized how callous the question must have sounded in the face of their reality. She just wanted to know if she was going to be able to speak to him now, see him properly, be with him. That was her love coming to the fore, the need she felt to make things right with her youngest son.

"Honestly, Mom, I don't think your lies are even going to register with him after tonight. He's eating with us all and tomorrow he's waking up to find that the woman he loves has disappeared again." He laughed harshly. "And I was feeling guilty for breaking my promise. That's pretty much nothing after what I am going to do to him now."

Clark surveyed Dean for a moment, an oddly sympathetic look on his face, and then he said, "Quit tying yourselves in knots. I'll be the one to take it down. You can all play innocent. You don't even have to tell him what happened. Let him believe she's moved on naturally if you like."

"Sam would never believe that," Dean said. "He would think we did it. That's what he's scared of."

Clark shrugged. "Then we break his heart. It's happening either way. You guys can decide what happens after. You can have Mosely tell him Jess moved on. She's already shown she can lie to Sam when she feels justified." He shot Mary a pointed look. "I am just going to focus on ending this sick thing Azazel has set him up with." His expression darkened. "And then we find that damn guy Elkins and get the gun. We kill that son of a bitch demon and end it. We stop it doing something so twisted to anyone else."

Dean frowned. "You really care."

Clark looked into his eyes. "Yeah, I do. There are some things that shouldn't be touched, things that are sacred, and Jessica's memory is one of them. That bastard needs to pay for doing that to Sam."

Mary saw the poorly restrained anger in Clark and she thought she understood him a little better now. He did care about Sam as a person, but it was more than that. He was seeing the mirror of his own pain in Sam and imagining how much worse it was going to get. He could see how Sam was going to suffer and he was angry about it.

She felt the same way. Sam was her son, and they were going to break him to save him. And before that, they had to stow what they were feeling and go out to dinner with Sam. He couldn't be allowed to suspect anything. They all had to play their roles perfectly.

Sam couldn't know what they were planning.


So… They're clued in. We've got some read heartbreak coming soon. What did you think of Clark in this one?

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx