Aaa, I'm so sorry! I knew you'd hate me because of what happened in the latest chapter... But seriously, I had that chapter planned since the beginning of this fic, so I wasn't going to skip it. Actually, I don't know what the hell took me so long to get here.

Please don't abandon this fic now, I'm begging you. Stay with me till the end (and write a review, even if it's to tell me you absolutely hate this).

Having said that - this is Supernatural. Since when is anyone ever truly dead? Lol!

The cry that left Sam's lips was nothing but a wordless, animal scream.

The gunshot still echoed in the church as Jackie went down, her limp body fell partly on Sam's legs, and her head-

Oh God, no, no, no-!

The blood was still gushing out of her, a sickening amount of thick, red blood that was spreading around them on the white marble floor. And in it, lumps of something pink and grey-

Sam clenched his jaw and fought the wave of nausea that hit him as he realized that he was watching pieces of Jackie's brain floating in the blood.

Her lifeless eyes stared right at his face, seeing nothing.

Nothing.

She's gone.

A ragged breath shook Sam's body, and another cry tore out of his chest. He tasted tears and acid on his chapped, bloody lips.

"Help-!" he managed, his voice raw and broken. "Dean?! Joe-! Somebody help me-!"

He made another futile attempt to free himself from the chains, to pull Jackie to his lap, to save her, to help her, to do something-

But he knew there was nothing to do.

She was gone.

Dad had shot her, and she was dead.

Joe watched how Jackie took the bullet, how the back of her head exploded and she crumpled down, falling partly to Sam's legs, her bare shoulders hitting the cold, cold stone floor.

The katana slipped off Joe's numb fingers and clattered to the stone floor, but she didn't even notice.

"No-!"

The sound that left her was barely even a gasp.

She felt the slicing pain in her own head, in her own chest, the pain of dying, the pain of her heart stopping. That was her twin, her sister, her soulmate - no, not just a soulmate, she was part of her soul - that was Jackie, the insufferable ass that Joe loved more than anything, whom she could not - she would not - live without.

The anger, the absolute horror, wrenched her gut like a burning dagger. She looked up from Jackie, saw Sam who was screaming and crying and fighting the chains-

And then she saw John Winchester.

Without a moment's hesitation, she launched herself at him.

He let out a surprised groan, as Joe appeared in front of him, and her fist met with his chin. She felt the crunch as his jaw bone broke, the kick she aimed at his gut held all her wrath, it shattered ribs and he fell to the floor, the gun flew from his fingers. He was a big man and he went down hard, she was slight and slender, and she wasn't used to fighting with her bare hands, Hell - she wasn't used to fighting at all. Her hands were meant to heal, they were meant to do good and touch gently, but now that was all meaningless, now she needed for them to be the weapons that would tear this man to pieces, as she hit him again and again and again-

Someone threw himself at her from the side, and Joe toppled over, hit the stone floor shoulder first. The pain pierced her body, but it was nothing compared to the pain that was already there, choking her chest so that she could hardly breathe.

"Go!" shouted the man who was holding her down. "Dad, go!"

Dean.

He was on top of her, holding her down by her wrists, his lean body against her own, their position something that Joe had maybe imagined in her mind some lonely night, but now nothing was like she had then thought it would be.

From the corner of her eye, she saw John getting up, on his feet, spitting blood and teeth at the floor. She knew that she should get up too, just teleport herself off Dean's grip and go after the older Winchester, but she didn't.

Suddenly she was drained. Drained of strength, of purpose. Hurting inside out.

"Don't kill my dad-!" Dean groaned. "Just don't kill my dad."

And then Joe was crying, didn't know how that had happened, but she was crying, the sobs ragged and ugly and violent creatures that just tore out of her, no matter how much she tried to stop them.

Dean smelled like leather and salt, his body was warm on hers. His eyes were so green it made Joe's heart ache.

"He shot Jackie." she wailed through the tears. "I want him dead-"

"He's gone already. Now calm down-"

"Don't you tell me to calm down!" With all her might she pushed Dean off her, threw him away, and was back on her feet in a heartbeat. She took a ragged breath, her fists ached, her shoulder felt like it was dislocated - but the worst, the absolute worst pain was in her gut-

Jackie. My twin. My sister.

She looked around. John was gone, as was the murderous rage that had washed through her like a tsunami. She was no killer. Her hands were not meant to harm, they were meant to heal. To fix. To save.

The power of creation, in your hands.

Taking a deep breath, Joe stepped into the nothingness and appeared again by Jackie's side.

Barely a minute had passed since she'd been shot, and she was still right there, her body on Sam's legs, her bare shoulders on the pool of blood, her pale face a mask of surprise, her lips parted in a final gasp.

Sam was crying, tears mixing with the blood on his cheeks. He was saying something or trying to say something, maybe praying for a miracle, but Joe paid him no attention, she barely saw him.

She ignored him completely, as her legs gave in and she fell on her knees in Jackie's blood.

"My sister-" she breathed.

And she knew - all the times they had fought, all the times she had stopped talking to her, all the times Jackie had been drunk and stupid and annoying, the times they had quarreled and called each other names, when they had pulled each other's hair as little girls, the times they had spent years apart because of a fight - they were nothing.

If Jackie died, so would she.

She gripped Jackie's arm with her hurting, blood-stained hand, and closed her eyes.

"Take me with you!" Sam screamed. "Joe, no! Take me with you-!"

But it was too late. Joe disappeared, Jackie was gone and all that remained was the blood on the floor, the blood on him, the blood and pieces of bone and hair and worse-

"No! No! Jackie-!"

And then Dean was there, by his side, opening the chains with a key. First his wrists, then his legs. The shackles fell off, and Sam couldn't help a groan of pain as the torn skin of his wrists met the cold air.

"Sammy, hey-!" Dean pulled him into an embrace. "Sammy, are you okay?"

Okay?

What the Hell did that even mean? Sam knew he had never been farther from okay in his life.

But he couldn't even reply. The sobs made his whole body cramp, the violent sobs that pushed tears to his cheeks and choked his windpipe.

With shaking hands he pushed Dean off, tried to get up - but his legs were numb, his head spinning, he fell back down, fell to the warm blood so that it stained his hands, his knees. But Dean was there again - as he had always been there for him - his steady hands helping him up, keeping him up, drawing him away from the horrible scene in front of him.

"Sam, breath," Dean said, gripping his shoulders, staring him in the eye. "Just breath."

"I'll kill Dad-!" Sam groaned.

"Sam-"

"I mean it. I'll fucking kill him-!"

"He's gone! I told him to leave!" Dean shouted. "And he only did what I tried to do a couple of weeks ago. Are you going to kill me too, huh?"

"He knew." Sam managed, through clenched teeth. He freed himself from Dean's grasp, took a couple of shaky steps back. "Dad knew about Jackie. It wasn't me. I didn't tell him."

"You think I told Dad?"

"I don't know. I sure as Hell didn't."

Dean spread his arms. "You really want to talk about it here? Now?"

His words echoed in the church, the candlelight played on his angular face. Sam took another ragged breath, brought his hands to his face to wipe the tears, and only then realized that they were covered in blood - in Jackie's blood - that was now on his face too. He tasted her blood on his lips.

"Was it you?" he managed. "Did you tell him?"

"I didn't. I swear. Dad's a hunter." Dean said slowly. "He found out the way he always does. I told you he would. You should've told him yourself-"

"Don't you defend him!" Sam cried out. He clenched his fists, nails digging to his palms but he didn't even feel it. "Don't you dare to defend him! He shot her, he shot Jackie-!"

And the tears were back, tears of rage and loss and pain more profound than anything he had ever imagined. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't speak, the words were lost.

For a couple of heartbeats, they just stared at each other.

"I know," Dean said. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't you dare to say you're sorry either."

He turned his back at Dean, and with weak, shaken steps, he walked away.

On her living room floor, in front of the cold and empty hearth, Joe drew from her grace.

The grace answered. It was this golden light in her heart, the warmth of the sun in her bloodstream. It was a part of her soul, the marrow of her bones, the essence of her spirit. It was pure love - It was her mother's love for her, her love for her sister, the love that made the world spin, love that made plants grow, seeds sprout, the love that created life in barren places, that made wounds heal and crops grow.

Joe poured it all on Jackie. All of it. Every little spark she had, she poured into her sister's lifeless body, and even when she had nothing to give anymore - when it had all passed through her - she still gave.

What was flowing from her fingers to Jackie wasn't grace anymore - that she had all given already - it was pure life force. Life from her own living cells.

And she let it flow.

She let it flow until her vision blurred until the world turned dark until she was dying too - and still, she clenched her teeth and kept it flowing.

When the darkness took her, she knew she had given too much - and maybe it still wasn't enough.

But there was nothing she could do about it anymore.

The two girls lay on the floor, side by side in absolute silence. Joe's black hair tangled in Jackie's bloody curls, her arm was thrown over her sister's body in a last, protective gesture.

Bones - the huge, black Newfoundland - gave a sad, worried howl as he lay down on the floor by Joe's side, laid his large head on his owner's shoulder. The three cats who'd been watching the scene from the couch with curious, yellow eyes, now also left their comfortable lounging spots, and gracefully leaped to the floor and gathered around Joe, purring and rubbing their heads on her still form.

Their soft fur, their warm bodies kept Joe warm when the freezing Alaskan night fell.

As always - super, hyper thanks to you Frankannestein! Thanks for your support - I would've abandoned this fic a long time ago if it wasn't for you.

Now I'm actually thinking that I might be able to finish this!