Jessa was sitting in the backseat of the Impala, allowing the familiar vibration of the engine and the soft classic rock from the old cassette's lull her to sleep.
"Jemmy?" She opened her eyes at the sound of John's voice.
"Are you tired sweetheart?" Her gaze turned to the passenger seat and she saw her mother's face. "We're almost there."
"Almost where?"
"Granny's place, duh." She turned to see a teenaged Dean sitting on the other side of the backseat, and ten year old Sam slept peacefully between them.
She glanced out the window as they passed a sign saying Welcome to Normal, Illinios. She glanced back to Dean. He was wearing a faded black Metallica tee with ripped jeans. He had a Walkman in his hands and the headphones hung around his neck.
"Why are we going to Granny's?"
Mary gave her a 'like you don't know' face and said, "Our annual summer holiday, silly."
John tapped the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song, a grin on his face. "It's alright, Jemmy. I'm sure Granny will have some ginger ale. I know you aren't very good with these long car trips."
She glanced out the window, suddenly feeling the nausea. "It's cold." She whispered. "Why is it so cold?"
"I'll turn the air off." John flicked a dial on the dash, but it didn't feel warmer.
"Clear!" Someone yelled and Jessa's eyes darted around, but no one had spoken.
The car pulled down a street and came to a stop in front of a modest home with a white picket fence. An older woman stood on the porch. She wore a long floral dress and her curly hair rested just below her shoulders. It could have been dark once, but now it was so white that it was hard to tell.
"Sammy." Mary reached from the front and gently shook Sam's shoulder to wake him. "Sammy, we're here."
Sam's eyes fluttered open and he grinned, almost pushing Dean out of the car to get out. Jessa climbed from her side and watched her little brother fling himself into the old woman's arms.
"Grandma Millie!" He yelled.
"It's so good to see you children." She grinned. Dean just nodded at her, and leaned up against the post. "Jemmy, dear, how is my favourite granddaughter?"
"I'm your only granddaughter." She mumbled, shivering.
"She isn't well, Ma." John explained, hugging his mother and pressing a kiss to her cheek, "You know how she gets after so long in the car."
"Of course. Well, come inside and we'll get some food into you. I just baked some muffins."
"Chocolate chip?" Sam asked.
"What else is there?" The old woman smiled.
"…Or we'll lose her again. Permanently."
The rest of her family entered the house, but Jessa hung back.
"Jessamine, what's wrong?" Mary asked, placing a hand on her daughter's cheek.
"This is wrong."
"What's wrong, honey?"
"Everything. Why are you here? Why am I here?"
"Here? Honey, this is our vacation."
"We never took a vacation."
"What are you talking about? Jessa, we come visit Grandma Millie every summer. Ever since you were born."
"No. No, we didn't. You died, and we never took a vacation."
"I'm right here." Mary told her sweetly.
"No you're not."
"Why would you say something like that?" She looked hurt.
"Because it's true." She took a step away, "I got shot. The man that we are trying to find, he shot me because we broke the rules."
The hurt disappeared from Mary's face.
"Did I die?"
"No, sweetie. You're fighting."
"I'm so tired, Mom."
"I know, sweet girl, I know. But you have to keep fighting. I'm not going to let my children die before they're supposed to."
A shrill beeping invaded her dream and she covered her ears to block it out.
"Keep fighting, Jessamine." Mary pressed, "I know that you are strong enough to fight this and win."
"I want to stay with you." Jessa whispered, feeling tears slip down her face.
"You can't. Not right now."
"When?"
"When it's time," She smiled, "I'll be waiting. I love you, Jemmy."
The cold disappeared, and it was replaced with an intense pain in her chest as she watched her dream—and her mother—melt away.
"There you are." A strange man was leaning over her. "Sleep. You're going to be fine."
She felt a stray tear slide down her face.
After another few minutes, she felt the pain ease and a fog fill her mind and she drifted off to sleep.
When she woke, the fog was gone and she felt better rested than she had in a long time.
"You're awake." Derek said, sitting forward in the chair.
"Rebecca?" She asked.
"She's okay."
"Who was he?"
"Her father." He told her, "Her biological father. He was suffering from some kind of psychosis."
"Did you get him?"
Derek shook his head sadly, "He killed himself before we could."
She nodded.
"How are you feeling?"
"Just shiny." She answered, managing a smile, "I'll be back at work in no time."
"Do you remember what happened?" He asked, slipping his hand in hers.
"I was sleeping on the couch, then I woke up and he had a gun pointed at me." She shook her head, "After he shot me, nothing." She lied. She knew what happened next. He put his hands inside the wound in her chest, using the blood to write on the wall. She held her breath, so he would think she was dead, and when he left she pulled the landline from the wall and dialed 911.
"I was so scared." He whispered, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I thought you were going to die and I was so scared."
"I'm okay." She caressed his cheek, "I'm going to be fine."
"I brought you some coffee." Penelope entered the room and Jessa immediately dropped her hand. "Jessa, you're awake!"
"I am."
"How do you feel?"
"My chest is a little sore, but other than that I'm fine."
"That is good to hear." She gave Derek one of the paper cups of coffee in her hand. "Hotch went back to your place. He got you some clothes."
"Thanks."
"Also," She went on, "You're phone has been ringing almost constantly, but when we answered it cut off."
"My phone? I switched that off. And put it in the drawer."
"Hotch said it was on the kitchen counter, and it was switched on."
"That son of a bitch went through my phone." She moaned, "Where is it?"
"Here." Derek handed it to her.
She opened it up and found twenty-six missed calls. Dialling the message bank, she pressed the phone to her ear.
"You have nine new messages." The computer generated voice told her.
"Hey J, its Dean. We got a lead on the Demon. Just keeping you updated." There was a beep, before the next message played, "Pastor Jim is dead, J. Dad's taken it hard. He thinks it could be the demon." Beep. "J, me again. The Demon has dad." Beep. "We're heading to Sioux Falls to see if Bobby can help us. Please call me back, J." Beep. "Jessa, please call me back. Things are really bad and we could use your help." Beep. "We have dad. We're safe. Call me." Beep. "We're heading to Sioux Falls General Hospital. J, just call me please." Beep. "I don't even know if you're getting these, J. but please—" The message was cut off by a horrendous crashing sound, then it beeped and the final message played, "Jessa, it's Sam. There's been an accident. Please, please, call me because—" He paused, and Jessa could hear him sobbing, "Jessa, the doctors don't think Dean's going to make it."
Panic coursed through her and she shut off her phone and pulled the wires and tubes from her body, barely registering what she was doing.
"Jessa, what are you doing?" Derek tried to press her back down into the bed, but she fought him off. "You shouldn't be getting up."
"You don't tell me what to do." She hissed at him, tears filling her eyes.
"Jessa, what's wrong?"
She ignored his question and grabbed her bag, locking herself in the bathroom. When she was alone she breathed in only long, shaky breath and found herself curled in a ball sobbing on the floor.
"Jessa!" The pounding on the door turned into muffled background noise as her breathing became shallow and rapid.
She blinked her tears away and tried her best to regulate her breathing. After another few minutes she was able to pull herself to her feet and dress in jeans and a t-shirt before pulling on her favourite combat boots. It took another moment or two for her to completely compose herself, and when she did she exited the bathroom.
"Jessa, what's going on?" Derek asked again.
"I have to go."
"Go where?"
"That doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does!" He yelled, stepping in front of her to stop her walking away. "You almost died yesterday, Jessa. You were shot in the chest, and you nearly died."
"Really? I'd forgotten." She bit back sarcastically.
"Look, Penelope is getting your doctor. If you really don't want to be here that bad, then we can discuss discharging you."
"I don't have time for that." She stepped around him and rushed out the door.
She couldn't see him, but she knew he was following her. When she got out the front she realised that she had no way to get anywhere. She searched through her bag and thankfully found her wallet.
"Jessa, where are you going?"
She began walking toward the main street where she could hail a cab.
"Sioux Falls." She answered without looking back.
"Sioux Falls?"
"South Dakota."
"And how do you plan on getting there?"
"I don't know, I'll drive."
"Jessa, you have all sorts of drugs in your system. There's no way you can drive to South Dakota. That's almost twenty hours!"
"Then I'll fly."
"Jessa, just tell me what's going on!"
"It isn't any of your business."
"I want to help you, Jessa, but if you don't tell me what's going on I can't."
She whirled around to face him, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "This isn't something you can fix, Derek."
"Hey." His voice was soft now that he had stopped yelling. "What is it?"
"There was an accident." She said, the tears falling from her eyes. "Dean's dying."
"Shit, Jessa." He closed the remaining distance between them and wrapped her in a soothing hug as she sobbed. "It'll be okay. I'll go with you." He whispered into her hair.
She pulled away from him and shook her head. "I need to be with my family." Without another word, she turned and walked away.
Jessa took her bike, pushing it like she never had before, all the way to South Dakota. She rushed through the halls of the ICU at Sioux Falls General until she arrived at a nurse's station.
"Excuse me." She got the attention of the nurse behind the counter, "I'm looking for my family. They were brought in yesterday after a car accident."
"Jessa?" She turned around to see Sam standing behind her with a paper bag in his hand.
"Sammy!" She threw herself into his arms. He had a few scratches and bruises on his face, but other than that he looked alright. "Where's Dean?"
"He's in the room down the hall."
"And Dad?"
"A couple of rooms down."
He beckoned her toward Dean's room. She stopped dead in the doorway. Her twin brother, the person that always protected her, was lying in a hospital bed with tubes stuffed down his throat.
"Jessa, its okay."
"I wish people would stop saying that." She whispered as her breath caught in her throat like some invisible hand was wrapped around her neck, squeezing the life from her. Her helmet and jacket fell from her hands at the door.
"Jessa." Sam was trying to get her attention but she shook her head and took off running down the hall. She rounded a corner and ran clean into a man.
She tried to mumble an apology, but couldn't find her words.
"Jessa." The man spoke.
She looked up into his eyes, to see John. "Dad." She broke down, sobbing in his arms like a scared child.
"It's okay." He soothed, hugging her tighter. "I'm glad you're here."
"Dad, Dean. He—" She couldn't bring herself to say the words.
"Have you seen him yet?"
She shook her head, "I couldn't."
"He needs you, Jessa."
"Sam said he was dying."
"When have you known Dean to stop fighting?" Despite the circumstances, John managed a smile. "He's never been as strong without his sister by his side."
"Dean never needed me."
"You and Dean were always an unstoppable force when you were together." He grinned, "Even as kids. I've watched you grow up, Jessa. You're family. Family is stronger together."
He led her back down the hall and they stopped outside of Dean's room.
"He's always needed you, Jessa. Now, he needs you more than ever."
She nodded, wiping her tears away. "Okay." It was little more than a whisper, but she stepped across the threshold and into the room.
She looked back at John, but he had already disappeared.
"Sam, can I have a moment?" Her little brother nodded and left her alone with her twin. She sat down at Dean's bedside. "Sorry I wasn't here earlier. I was in one of these places myself." She explained, feeling a little silly for taking to his comatose body. "You'll probably make fun of me for crying. You always do. 'No chick flick moments'. God, that was your favourite thing to say to me when we were younger." She chuckled and wiped her tears away. "The doctor says there's nothing more they can do for you, and that we should say our goodbyes. I'm not going to say that. That would be admitting defeat, and you are a stubborn son of a bitch. Always have been. I know you won't go without a fight, so fight Dean. Fight and stay here for me and for Sam and for Dad. We need you. We've always needed you." She laid her head down on his arm, clutching his hand like that was all he needed to tether him to life. After a long while there was a light knock at the door and she looked up to see Sam standing there.
"Mind if I come in?"
"Sure." She wiped her face and stood up from the chair, "I have to go talk to the doctor anyway."
She walked out of the room and walked straight up to the nurses' station.
"Excuse me." She said to the young woman sitting there. "Is there a doctor I could see?" She undid her jacket to reveal a patch of blood on her shirt. "I think I ripped my stitches."
"Oh my god! Of course." The nurse jumped up and led her to an empty room. "I'll get a doctor, I won't be long."
Minutes later she returned with an older woman in tow.
"I'm Doctor Matthews." She smiled. She would have been in her early forties, with dark hair piled on top of her head. "Monica tells me that you've opened a wound?"
Jessa nodded and shrugged out of her jacket, and pulled her shirt off. The bandage that covered her wound was soaked in blood, probably explaining her recent light-headedness.
"Can I ask what happened?"
"I got shot." She answered, "Turns out twenty hours on a bike a day later isn't the best idea."
"How did you get shot?"
"On the job. I'm an FBI Agent." She explained.
"Where are you based?" She asked in an obvious attempt to distract her as she peeled the bandage away.
"Quantico."
"What brings you here?"
"My family were in an accident, and, uh, my brother—it's not good."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Jessa winced as the doctor tried to clean the blood away. "But pushing yourself like this so soon after a major surgery isn't going to do any good."
Jessa just shrugged.
They were silent as Doctor Mathews finished off the stitching and covered it with fresh gauze and a clean bandage. "Please don't exert yourself too much. At least until this has healed properly."
"Thanks, Doc." Jessa pulled her shirt and jacket back on.
The nurse from before returned with an orange bottle of pills and handed them to her.
When she got back to Dean's room, Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed chatting about something in John's journal. Jessa smiled at him and took a seat on the chair by the bed.
"How are you feeling, Jessa?" He asked after a long silence.
"I almost died yesterday." She whispered.
"What?"
"We were working a case, and I got shot." She put her hand over her chest where the bullet wound was. It still hurt badly. "I ran away from the hospital when I got your message."
"I didn't know."
"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm fine, I'm alive, but Dean isn't."
"He will be." Sam whispered, "He'll fight."
"You know, I saw Mom?"
"What? When?"
"When I was dying. I had this dream. Dean and I were about fifteen, you were ten or eleven, and we were in the Impala." She smiled at the memory of the dream, "Mom was there, and we were going on vacation."
"Sounds nice."
"We went to visit Dad's mom."
"Grandma Millie died before we were born."
"I know, but in my dream we were going to see her as a family."
Sam smiled.
"But then I woke up, and everything hurt."
"Was it nice? Where you were, you know, your dream." He looked away awkwardly, "I want to believe that Dean is somewhere like that."
"It felt wrong. Mom kept telling me that I wasn't ready to be there." She looked back at her twin, "I just hope that she doesn't think its Dean's time yet."
They fell silent for a while, but then Sam spoke, "Dad found the thing that can kill the Demon."
"What?"
"It's a gun. A Colt. Legend says that it can kill anything."
"Legend? How can you be sure it will work?"
"I've seen it."
A small smile graced her lips, "It can really kill this thing?"
"It can."
The two siblings fell into a comfortable silence.
Minutes passed, then Dean's eyes shot open and he took a gasping breath in.
"Dean!" She and Sam both jumped to his side.
"Help!" Sam yelled out the door, "I need help!"
Seconds later, doctors and nurses rushed in and began fussing over Dean—removing the tubes and things.
They were ushered out of the room while the doctors did there thing. After a while they were allowed back in to speak with Dean's doctor.
"I can't explain it." He said, "The oedema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You have some kind of angel watching over you."
"Thanks doc." Dean said and the doctor left them.
"How the hell did you get better like that?" Jessa asked when they were alone.
Dean shook his head, "There was a reaper after me."
"How'd you ditch it?" Sam asked.
"I have no idea." He said, "Only, there's a pit in my stomach, like something is wrong."
There was a knock at the door and the three of them turned to see John in the doorway.
"How are you feeling, Dean?"
"Fine, I guess. I'm alive." He turned to Jessa, "Were you speaking to me? When I was, you know, dying."
Jessa nodded, "I was, but it isn't important now."
"Where were you?" Sam asked John angrily.
"I had some things to take care of."
"Well, that's specific."
"Can we not fight? You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Sammy, I, I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"
"Dad, are you alright?" Jessa asked, concern for him suddenly filling her.
"Yeah, yeah." He offered her a smile, "I'm just tired. Hey, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?"
"Yeah." She answered.
"I'll go." Sam cut in, not trusting himself to be in a room with his father without arguing. "Sit down Jessa."
She sent him a thank you smile before he left the room.
"Dad, what is it?" Dean asked when John's eyes filled with sadness as Sam walked away.
"You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say 'Its okay, Dad'." He paused, "I'm sorry, Dean. You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should have been saying that to you. You know, I put, I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you." He turned to Jessa, "I'm sorry I drove you away. I never wanted that."
"Dad, what's going on?" Jessa asked.
"This whole thing has just given me a lot to think about." He said finally. "I've got something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out her favourite knife. It had been a birthday present when she turned fourteen and she had left it in the demon she fought in Chicago months ago. "It was left in me by the demon you left it in. Her idea of a game, i guess. I thought you would want it back."
"Thanks!" She slipped it into her boot.
He pressed a kiss to Jessa's cheek then put a hand on Dean's shoulder, "Take care of each other."
Without another word he left the room.
"Is it just me, or was that weird?" Dean asked.
"That was totally weird."
"Can you go ask him what's going on?"
"Yeah." Jessa walked out of the room and toward John's.
Her heart felt like it stopped beating when she got to John's room. Instead of being in his bed like Jessa thought he would be, he was sprawled on the ground next to it.
"Dad!" She rushed to his side, the pain in her chest worsening but not because of her wound. "I need some help in here!" She screamed. Tears poured down her cheeks and she pressed her fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse. "Dad!"
Hands closed around her shoulder and she was pulled from the room as doctors and nurses rushed in.
"Jessa, what's going on?" Sam was beside her just as panicked as she was, the cup of coffee he got for John lay forgotten on the ground.
"I don't know, Sam." She sobbed, leaning against her brother for support. She felt his arm snake around her shoulders, hugging her close. "I don't know."
She watched in horror as the doctors stopped what they were doing and backed away from John's body.
"What—what are they doing?" She yelled, breaking free of Sam's embrace. "Help him! You have to save him!" She was hysterical as the reality of what was happening sank in.
"What is it?" Dean limped towards them, "What the hell is going on?"
"Dean—," Sam started, tears falling from his own eyes.
"No." Dean said, "No, no, no!" He leaned into the room as one of the doctors called 'time of death'.
"NO." Jessa shook her head and wiped the tears from her face as if it could change anything. She turned and rushed down the hall and away from the concerned shouts of her brothers.
When she got to her Hawk, the first thing she realised was that she forgot her helmet. She didn't care. She fired up the bike and sped away at full throttle. The warm wind whipped at her face and dried the fresh tears that were falling.
She rode and rode through the streets until she took a corner too fast and her bike spun out of control, throwing her from it. She stood up, dusting the dirt from her clothes and standing up the Hawk. She screamed and kicked at the dirt. Finally, she gave up and walked away.
She walked for a few blocks, letting the midday sun burn at the back of her neck. She walked until she came to a seedy little bar with a buzzing neon light informing her that they were open.
She pushed the door open and walked into the dingy pub, ignoring the very few other patrons drinking their problems away. She made her way to the bar and waved the bartender over.
"What'll it be, love?" She asked.
"Whiskey."
The middle-aged woman nodded and grabbed a bottle and poured a small amount into the glass she placed in front of her.
Jessa gratefully took the glass and stared at the amber liquid.
"Are you going to drink that, hun, or just stare at it all day?"
Jessa stared at her and downed the glass, motioning for another. She drank it and asked for another. She had five drinks under her belt, and when the bartender poured her a sixth she walked off to tend to another patron just as some old country song started playing on the jukebox.
The twang of the steel guitar cut through the smokey atmosphere of the bar and echoed the melancholy of Jessa's mood. She poured the alcohol down her throat and revelled in the warmth that spread through her body.
The bartender refilled her glass without her having to ask and she gave her a small nod in thanks. The lyrics of the song found their way into her mind and she was unable to block out the feelings that came with it. Just in case I don't make it back have a beer for me, don't waste no tears on me, the singer sang, making Jessa's grip on the glass tighten. Drive my Camaro 90 miles an hour down Red Rock Road with 'Born to Run' blastin' on the radio. Jessa stood and pegged her still full glass at the jukebox, sending whiskey and shards of glass flying in every direction and causing all the other three patrons to look in her direction. Despite the destruction, the sad song continued to play.
"What the hell?!" The bartender yelled at her, "You have to leave."
She stared at the woman defiantly until someone slapped a few bills on the counter and dragged her from the room. When they were outside, Jessa looked up at the man that probably saved her from a vandalism charge.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, kiddo?" Bobby asked her. He had been her father's closest friend, until one day when Jessa was fifteen he chased them out with a shotgun after an argument with John. "Smashing a glass like that. Barbara woulda hit you with the baseball bat she keeps around the bar."
"Whatever." She walked away from him and towards her bike.
"You might want to head to the cemetery." He called after her.
Jessa pointed her bike toward the cemetery at the edge of town. She arrived just as Sam and Dean finished with the pyre, John's body wrapped and positioned on top of it. She stood next to them as Dean stepped forward and lit it, the orange of the flames matching the sunset behind them.
Jessa watched the flames consume her father for the longest time, accepting Dean's flask when he offered it. She stood there for the longest time with silent tears rolling down her cheeks, before she had enough and walked away. She reached the Impala and stopped, not knowing what she was going to do.
"Are you leaving?" Dean asked, silently approaching. She had been away from her brother so long that she forgot how good of a hunter he was.
"I was going to."
"But now?"
She turned to face him, any ounce of grief in her replaced with determination. "Let's get this yellow-eyed son of a bitch."
Man, I loved writing this chapter.
For any of you that are wondering, the song playing at the bar was If I Don't Make It Back by Tracy Lawrence. Really amazing song that makes me cry every time. You should have a listen. Also, I believe I wrote 'old country song' but in actual fact the song was released in 2005 and this chap is set in 2006, so lets all pretend it was an old song back then :):):)
So, i had written 20 chapters as of last update, then i went back and completely rewrote everything from this point forward so updates may or may not slow down, depending on how much I can get done in the next few days.
Hope you enjoyed.
Xoxo
