Chapter 19.

Jumble Jim's was a hunters' hangout, but didn't know it. The bar staff didn't pay too much attention to the stuff said quietly over a drop of hunter's helper and it was far enough outside Lebanon to keep attention away from the bunker but near enough to get home safely after a few too many drinks. It was dimly lit and it wasn't getting any Michelin stars, but the beer and whisky were good and the glasses were clean.

Kayleigh was working the bar. She knew Dean by the name Campbell and thought he was in construction. It was a dull enough story that she asked no questions. Jules was a regular too and Dean had introduced her as a co-worker. It kept things simple.

"Hey, Jules! Hey, Dean!" said Kayleigh, "I haven't seen you for weeks, Dean."

"Big job in Duluth." he said.

"Long way to go for work." she said, "I hope they paid well."

"I'm just glad to be home." he said, "The usual for both of us, please."

"Uh-uh!" said Jules, "I'm paying. My idea to come here."

He shrugged cheerfully. "Okay. I never turn down a free drink." He smiled at Kayleigh, "I have good friends, huh?"

She poured the whisky and nodded. "I think good people attract good people." she said.

"They do." said Jules when he didn't reply.

They sat at a small table in a quiet corner and Dean said, "I know you came here to talk about him and I will, but do you mind if I get some alcohol into my system first? Let's talk about something else. You know, I know almost nothing about you, about who you were before the apocalypse."

"I'm not sure I remember." she said, "I was an engineer, working to improve air conditioning units. I'd never fired a gun. I worried that too much salt would kill me. Now I worry that I'll die if I have too little when the ghosts appear. Weird how completely life can change."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Where are you from?"

"Missouri, originally. Eldon. I was in Houston, Texas when the apocalypse struck. Of course, I don't know how like my versions those places are in your world. Sometimes I look online to ... Well, it's the closest I get to going home." She drank some whisky. "This world's version of me died young. Sam told me that when he gave me my IDs. He said to be careful using my real name anywhere they might check for a death certificate. It's weird to think she lived in this safe world and died so soon, when I was dodging demon and angel bombardments in a wasteland and survived."

"Is there anyone back there we need to find and bring here?"

"You still think we'll make it back?" she said.

"If or when we do, a clear list of people we need to bring over would be useful."

She shook her head. "I have nobody left there. My brother, Steve ... he was one of the first in Houston to die when the demons came. He refused to kneel, so they made an example of him. I had to tell my parents. They asked how he died and I lied and said it was fast. Only time in my adult life I ever lied to them."

"You did the right thing." said Dean.

"If I did, it was the only right thing I did at the start. Within two years of the whole mess starting, my parents were both dead too. I watched so many friends die, heard of others. Bad times."

"Sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"A long time ago. Sort of numb to it now. Mostly numb. I didn't ask you to come here because I want to talk about ... him." He noticed the sudden switch to avoid the name, for which he was grateful. "I wanted to talk about you." she said.

"About me?" he said, already not happy with the way the conversation was going.

She smiled. "Don't worry. I don't intend to add to the pressure. I've seen what angels do to their vessels and I can't even guess at how much worse it must be when an archangel is involved. The guys all think you're some kind of god. Here you are, walking and talking and looking like nothing happened."

"It's mostly an act." he admitted.

"I know, but it's an Oscar-worthy performance. I admire your strength as much as they do, but for a different reason. They think you shrugged off Michael's influence like it was nothing. I think you're so weighed down with it you're almost crushed by it, but still you just keep being you."

"On the subject of being crushed," he said, "You know him better than anyone. You saw what happened in the library. Thinking only of him, do you think I should maybe leave for a while?"

"Thinking only of him?" she said.

He signalled to Kayleigh for more drinks. "He doesn't deserve what I'm putting him through. So should I stop?"

"God, no! Look at it from his point of view. He's enduring this because he thinks it will help you. If you leave, he'll see it as his failure to do that."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. She was right. Of course she was right. If he left the bunker, the guilt-ridden angel would assume it was his fault. He opened his eyes. "I hadn't looked at it that way." he said.

"This is hurting him and I hate that, but he's stronger now that you're back and if he thinks he has a chance of helping you to heal, he'll stick with it all the way, however much it hurts."

"He and Sam are suffering more than I am." he said.

"No, I don't think so. Sam and I have a deal, that we won't call each other on our BS, but we don't lie to each other either. I know what both of them are going through and I don't entirely know what you're going through, but I know you're deep in pain and trauma and you think you don't matter. The very fact that they are still backing you all the way says you do."

"Because of me, you had to pray and I know what that did."

"You don't." she said, "Not even he knows. I can't tell him. It's not that I don't want to. It's that I've never told anyone and I don't even know if I can say it aloud."

Dean drained his glass in one gulp and waved for more. When Kayleigh had returned to the bar he said, "Tell me."

"It's not a good thing. It won't make you see me as a good person."

"I tortured souls in Hell."

She drank deeply and then said, "It's true that none of us pray. Too dangerous and stupid to attract angelic attention."

"Preach!" he said.

She gave an uncertain half-smile. "But there's more. The last time I prayed in my world was the day my brother died."

"Understandable. Those douche-nozzles didn't save him."

Her voice shook. "The demon tore my brother into four pieces. I saw every second. I remember every second."

Dean could well understand that. He knew the feeling of watching helplessly as his brother died.

"It ripped off his arm and he was trying to break free. Both arms and one leg gone, blood was gushing out and he was still breathing ... still suffering." She angrily brushed tears from her eyes. "Hunters don't cry!" she said, half to herself.

He took her hand, gripping it firmly. "Jules, when you're with me, you cry as much as you need to."

"I prayed then." she said, "Not for an angel rescue, not for him to be saved. I prayed for my nineteen year old brother to die and to die fast. I prayed for him to die because I couldn't bear his pain."

"You prayed for mercy for him." said Dean, "I would have done the same." Her eyes thanked him. "And when you prayed to Cas, it all came flooding back."

"Yes. And I can't stop thinking about it. And I can't talk to him about it because he has so much other stuff to deal with."

"So talk to me, as much as you like, because I will never judge you ... I can't, with my history ... and I have nothing to do at the moment because I'm fit for nothing."

"That isn't true, Dean."

"Is anything?"