Chapter 13

Jessie slept very restlessly during the night and into the early morning. The sun had barely risen when she finally decided to climb out of bed, giving up on the elusive sleep. She was still tired, both physically and emotionally, but everytime she closed her eyes, her imagination ran wild, envisioning the werewolf mocking her. And if she found sleep, nightmares haunted her sleep.

She walked downstairs quietly, wearing her fuzzy pink slippers that resembled some strange hairy animal that had been turned into footwear, and a pink robe that was covering her pale blue nightgown.

It was quiet as she walked into the livingroom, which she was pleased to find. She really wanted some quiet time to herself. But as she approached the door to the kitchen, she not only thought she heard something, but she could smell coffee brewing. She sighed quietly, before walking into the kitchen.

"Good morning," Dean smiled as he handed her a cup of freshly brewed coffee. "I hope you don't mind that I made coffee."

She smiled weakly, gladly accepting the cup. She wanted to be angry with him, just to make herself feel better, but she couldn't. It wasn't his fault she was tired, or even irritable.

"Thank you."

He wasn't always as observant of people like his brother was, but he could definitely tell something was bothering her. He just wasn't sure if he should bring attention to it.

"Is everything all right?" he asked as he sat down at the table.

"Spare me your concern right now, Dean. I'm not in the mood for it."

He set his cup of coffee down on the table, gesturing for her to sit down beside him. She hesitated, but only for a moment, before doing as he had asked.

"What is it?" she asked with irritation.

"What happened after I went to bed?"

She shook her head, not wanting to speak about it. She didn't even want to think about it, especially about the implications. She thought she had settled her score with that werewolf and now she didn't know what to think.

"You and Sam didn't—"

She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "How dare you even suggest that, Dean! Do you think I'm some kind of slut?"

"I didn't mean that," he said, trying to back peddle. "I meant argue, not sex."

She looked at him in disbelief, rolling her eyes heavily. She didn't believe him, but she didn't have the strength to fight with him, she was tired.

"Go to hell, Dean."

He decided not to push her, he was actually in a good mood for a change, having slept well, but he couldn't help but wonder what had happened in his absence. He was worried about his brother more than anything. He didn't think Sam would think straight where Jessie was concerned.

"I'm sorry, Jessie. I don't always think before I say something."

"It's fine, Dean," she replied as she stood up. "I'm over it."

He was going to start over, asking her again if anything was wrong, but he finally decided against it. He figured all he would do is upset her again. Instead, he shut his mouth and drank his coffee.

Jessie decided to cook breakfast. It was more to distract herself from her thoughts, than for nourishment. Truth was, she wasn't very hungry, but she needed to do something, and she enjoyed cooking.

First, she chopped up a large onion, throwing it into a frying pan with butter. Next, she peeled two medium sized potatoes, then chopped them up into cubes, throwing them in with the onions and turned the stove on. She rooted around in the cupboard, finding a few spices and sprinkled them into the frying pan, then stirred everything up. While she was waiting for the potatoes to brown, she grated some cheddar cheese, setting it aside for later.

Dean walked up behind her, while she was standing in front of the stove, frying the potatoes. Her first instinct was to tell him off or push him away, but she chose a different approach, she ignored him.

"Do you mind if I ask what you're making?" he asked her a minute later.

"You'll find out when it's done," she replied impatiently.

He stepped out from behind her, moving to rest against the counter, he was trying to stay out of her way.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

"My grandmother," she replied, as she walked to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs. "She always told me a woman should know how to cook." She set the carton of eggs on the counter, pulling out a bowl and a fork. "She always said it's the way to a man's heart."

He laughed. "That's definitely something I can agree with."

She laughed at the irony while cracking a few eggs into a bowl.

"Why don't you go wake your brother up?"

"Is that a suggestion, or a command?" he asked with a teasing grin.

She rolled her eyes before turning to look at him. "It's a polite request. I'm sure he'd like to eat too."

"But if he's still asleep, I can eat his portion too."

She laughed. "I had a feeling you might say that. Just do it."

He shook his head, smiling, then left the kitchen.

While Dean was gone, she made an omelette, and placed it on a plate. She spooned some of the fried potato and onion mixture on one half of the omelette, then sprinkled cheese on top of that. She finished it off by folding the other half of the omelette on top of the stuffing so it looked like it was wrapped in a blanket.

Dean walked back into the kitchen just as she was setting the plate on the table where he'd been sitting. He sat down in front of it, grabbing the fork that had also been placed there, looking at it in wonder. "I hope this is for me."

She laughed, while cracking more eggs into a bowl. "Yes, it is," she replied while whisking the eggs. "Is Sam coming down for breakfast or what?"

"Yes, I am," Sam answered as he walked into the kitchen, looking sleepy eyed. "I could smell you cooking upstairs."

"Good," she said, while pouring the eggs into the frying pan. "Dean made coffee and there's orange juice in the fridge if you want."

Sam took a coffee cup from the cupboard, pouring himself a coffee then sat down beside Dean. He watched his brother in amusement as he shoveled the food into his mouth in large bites.

"Oh–my–god!" Dean mumbled through a mouth full of food. "This is delicious!"

"Thanks Dean," she replied as she walked to the table, placing a fork and a plate of food in front of Sam.

"Thanks, Jessie," Sam said with a grateful smile.

"You're welcome," she replied as she began cooking her own omelette.

It was only a minute before Jessie finished cooking her omelette and sat at the table to eat with the Winchesters. She'd only had a single bite before Dean pushed his plate away from himself, a giant grin on his face.

"I could really get used to eating like this," he said.

Jessie smiled awkwardly, averting her gaze. She knew she shouldn't read so much into such an innocent remark, but she couldn't help herself.

He seemed to have noticed her uneasiness, so he said the first thing that came to him. "What're we up to today?"

Sam watched Jessie, but when she didn't answer, he spoke up. "Research," he replied, then began to elaborate, explaining what he and Jessie had discovered the night before.

Dean was just as stumped as they were, but he was determined to help Jessie figure out what was going on, whether she wanted his help or not. He'd been hunting much longer than her and his instincts weren't usually too wrong. And his instincts were telling him whatever was going on was much more dangerous than the average werewolf.

Since Jessie had cooked breakfast, the boys insisted on washing the dishes, leaving her with a few moments of private time. She headed into her computer room, closing the door behind her, then pulled her phone out and called Bobby.

She explained everything that had happened, leaving out all the unimportant details, like what had happened with Dean. While Bobby seemed to be trying to hide his concern, she could tell by the tone of his voice that he was upset. He had tried to convince her several times to stop hunting that werewolf over the years, but this time he knew it was no good. Instead he made her promise not to hunt it alone. It wasn't what she wanted to do, but she agreed, for his sake. She owed him a lot, and peace of mind was a small thing she could give to him.

She began to look through several files on her computer that she'd kept about the werewolf she thought she'd already killed, hoping to find something in the research that she had missed, some sort of clue to what was going on. She searched for a couple of hours, while the brothers were busy making phone calls, doing some research of their own.

It was midafternoon when Jessie finally became frustrated and quit looking though her files. After running into one dead end after another, she'd had enough. There was one solution she knew she could try, but was very reluctant. But after a short time, she convinced herself to follow through. She was desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

After a quick phone call, she walked into the livingroom, where both Sam and Dean were seated; Dean on the couch and Sam on a chair. They both glanced at her simultaneously, both with similar curious looks.

Her first reaction was to roll her eyes and say something snarky, maybe about both of them sharing the same brain, but she wasn't really in the mood for joking, or even fighting. Her thoughts were consumed by this problem with the werewolf, and she didn't want to get distracted or sidetracked.

"I have a trip to make," she announced abruptly. "It's only a little over 100 miles away, so I'll only be a few hours." She started to walk away, as if matters were settled, but Dean couldn't let her go just like that.

"We're coming with you," he stated adamantly, nodding at Sam. "And, I'm not taking no for an answer."

She had turned to glance at him, narrowing her eyes, but she stopped herself short. "Fine," she said, as she grabbed her shoes. "But we're taking my car. No arguments."

Dean looked as if he was going to object, but he didn't. He stood up from the couch, getting ready to leave, Sam following right behind.

Jessie grinned, as she turned her back on them, getting her shoes on and throwing her coat. She almost forgot where she had placed her purse, but found it on the coffee table. She checked her pocket for her phone, grabbed her keys, then stood waiting for the brothers to be ready.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked as he appeared through the doorway that led to the stairs.

"I have to talk to someone."

He looked at her strangely. "You're driving 100 miles to talk to someone?"

She shook her head with a smile. "Yes, I am."

"Why can't you use the phone?" Dean asked as he appeared behind his brother.

She sighed, opening the front door. "He doesn't have a phone."

The brothers passed a look between them, before walking out of the door. They walked to Jessie's car to wait, while she locked up the house.

As she approached the car, Jessie glanced at Dean, who was standing by the front passenger door. "You're sitting in the back."

"What?"

"You heard me," she replied with a grin. "You're sitting in the back—so you don't feel compelled to touch my radio."

He rolled his eyes, switching places with Sam, while she unlocked the car. Then he hopped into the backseat, looking pouty.

She noticed Dean's look as she glanced through her rearview mirror. She rolled her eyes in irritation. "Fine, Dean," she said. "There's a box of CD's in the back there. If you can find something you will listen to I'll put it in."

She glanced over at Sam, who was watching her with interest. She winked, knowing there probably wasn't anything there he'd like, she was mostly just humoring him. But as she started the car and was about to put it into gear, he passed a CD case over the seat to her.

She took the case, almost snorting as she saw what it was, then passed it to Sam. "Can you put that in, please?" she asked as she put the car into gear and began to drive down the long driveway.

He took the case, sighing as he read it. "Dude, seriously? Foreigner's greatest hits?"

"Hey! She said I could listen to whatever I wanted to," he said with a shrug. "You should see the crap I had to choose from."

"No insulting my music collection, Dean," she warned, glancing in the rearview at him. "At least I have music that was made after 1979."

He laughed. "That's exactly why your collection sucks. Everyone knows any good music was made before the 80's."

"Yeah, well, you're just lucky I happen to love Foreigner."

He smiled, then relaxed in the seat.

It was a quiet, uneventful drive. Sam dozed off during most of the ride. He was tired from not sleeping much the night before. He wouldn't tell Jessie, but he'd stayed up in the bedroom after they'd arrived home from Dennis' house, doing some research on his own on his laptop. He only fell asleep shortly before the sun had risen, which was only a couple of hours before Dean had woke him up.

Dean relaxed in the back seat, listening to the music and thinking. It was an unusual circumstance for him, being able to sit back and relax, not driving for once. Normally when he wasn't driving, it was because he was tired and needed a nap. It gave him a rare opportunity to ponder things, and he had a lot to ponder at the moment.

His thoughts immediately went back to a day and a half earlier, the night he'd slept with Jessie. He could remember every moment from that night, yet he wasn't sure what had possessed him to sleep with her in the first place. He knew it would be a mistake, and he knew he would regret it, but he did it anyway. Other than an insanely strong sexual attraction—and perhaps something else, something he couldn't quite get a handle on—he knew he hadn't wanted to do it, he just couldn't figure out why he'd went through with it. He knew his brother had feelings for her, stronger than he'd had for any woman in a very long time.

And that was it.

An epiphany.

Now he realized why he'd done it, even though he didn't want to admit it to himself—he couldn't admit it to himself—it would mean he'd betrayed his brother on a very deep, subconcious level, and he didn't think he could live with that.

He was afraid. Afraid to lose his brother. So much had come between them in the past, he just didn't want to see that happen again. Even though he'd promised Bobby—who was like a father to him—to watch out for Jessie. He would rather break his promise to him, than lose his brother. Even if the worry was for nothing.

Dean came back to the present, as the car slowed down, winding down a narrow, back road of gravel, surrounded by trees. The sun was high overhead, but the trees surrounding it were tall, blotting out much of the sunlight.

The car continued down this road for a few minutes, before Jessie turned it down a hidden driveway between some heavy, overgrown bushes. About 500 feet from the edge of the road, there was a low, metal gate that crossed the whole driveway. There was a heavy chain across it, that was beginning to rust across the surface, with a lock. It looked like it hadn't been used in a very long time.

"Stay here," Jessie said to the boys, as she got out of the car. She unlocked the trunk, grabbing a crowbar, then proceeded to smash the lock apart. After unravelling the chain, and pushing the gate open, she got back into the car.

"Are you sure someone lives here?" Dean asked from the backseat.

She began driving the car slowly down the under used dirt laneway, surrounded by overgrown brush. She ignored Dean's comment, even when he stuck his head against the seat, not far from her head. She noticed him glancing uneasily at his brother, who shrugged.

It was only a minute later when the car slowed, approaching a small, ramshackle house that looked more like an old, rundown shed, than a house. Jessie turned in her seat, gazing at Sam, then Dean.

"This guy is very, very eccentric and paranoid," she warned. "So please, just keep quiet and let me do what I gotta do."

Sam glanced at his brother warningly, who tried to look innocent. He just rolled his eyes and followed Jessie up to the door.

Jessie knocked at the door with a series of taps, knocks and scratches. The brothers passed each other curious looks, but kept silent, watching the door.

It was more than a minute before the door opened, but only enough for a pair of eyes to peek outside, staring.

"Whaddya want?" a deep voice grumbled from the door.

"Harold. It's me, Jessie. Jessie Drake."

The eyes at the door continued to stare, almost unmoving and unblinking. "Who are they?"

"Dean and Sam Winchester."

The eyes narrowed, then disappeared, the door opening wide enough for them to enter. Jessie glanced at the brothers warningly, before walking into the open door. The brothers glanced at each other as they followed behind her.

Inside the house was pretty much like anyone would have imagined it by seeing the outside of it. It was unkempt and untidy, and was minimally furnished. But though it was untidy, it wasn't dirty.

Jessie looked at Harold, who was sitting at his wooden kitchen table amongst several books. He was a weary-looking old man, but she was surprised to note he looked much the same the last time she had visited, which was more than five years before.

"Why are you here, Jessie?" he grumbled.

"You know why I'm here," she replied, narrowing her eyes.

He studied her quietly for a long moment, slamming the book he'd been reading shut. "I told you the last time. I don't know anything that can help you."

"And I'm telling you I don't believe you. Not this time."

He eyed her questioningly. "What is it you expect I can tell you that I haven't already?"

"I always thought you were holding out on me, Harold. Now I know for sure."

"You're gonna hafta explain yourself little lady," he said with a cough. "I'm not as sharp as I used to be."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to keep her irritation under check. "The werewolf who killed my family, Harold. What do you know about him?"

"I've told you everything I know."

"And I'm calling you a liar!"

"Jessie," Dean called.

She turned, glaring at him angrily. "Shut up, Dean." She turned back to Harold, who was still as stoic as he'd been. "Tell me what you know, right now."

He continued to gaze at her as stoically for a minute, long enough to mull something over in his head. He sighed, just before he began to speak, suddenly looking even older than his many years. "I promised your family I would never tell you anything about him."

"My family?" she replied questioningly.

He stood up abruptly, looking from Dean to Sam, studying them. "Who are these men to you?"

"Friends," she replied hesitantly. "Why?"

He gazed back and forth at the brothers again. "I know who your dad was," he said, waiting for their startled looks. "I know what kind of man John Winchester was. The question is; are you both like him? Or are you better?"

"What kind of question is that?" Dean asked angrily.

The old man's lips curled lightly in a grin. "Would you boys do what you could to save this girl from herself?"

Dean looked at his brother questioningly. He wasn't sure what the man was asking. "Yes, we would."

"And you too?" the man asked, looking at Sam.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

The old man walked over to a pile of books that was sitting on a table beside an old, ratty looking armchair, in what was a tiny livingroom. He took the topmost book, which looked very old, and walked over to Jessie, handing it to her.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Open it to the page that's marked," he replied as he walked back over to his chair at the kitchen table and sat down.

She opened the book to a page that was marked by an old envelope. It was on a page about werewolf lore. Nothing she hadn't seen before. "I don't understand."

"Look closely, Jessie," the old man said. "At the picture of the painting."

She squinted her eyes at the small picture of a painting in the book, not sure what she was looking for. But when she came across the eyes of the beast, she knew she recognized them. She'd seen them too many times not to.

"What does this mean?"

The old man shook his head with a frown. "That werewolf you're looking for. He's not just any werewolf, he's the werewolf."

"The werewolf?"

Sam and Dean both passed looks of confusion between each other, before returning their gaze on the old man.

"The one that killed your family, the one who's been hunting you. He's the werewolf, the origin of all werewolves. The first one, who all other werewolves have originated from. An alpha."

Jessie took a step backward in shock. "How is that even possible?" she asked breathlessly. "I don't understand."

Dean and Sam looked at each other with shock and dismay.

"I'll let you have that book," the old man said. "I won't be needing it any longer. I'm too old to hunt and much too paranoid to leave this house. All your answers are in there."

Her stomach suddenly felt like there was a deep pit inside and it was getting larger by the second. She slammed the book closed, looking at the old man harshly. "Why didn't you tell me this years ago?"

"This werewolf is dangerous, Jessie. He hasn't survived many millenia by being easy to catch or kill."

"But I did kill him, a few months ago. None of this makes any sense," she stated with frustration.

"I don't know what to tell you about that. But what I do know is, you better watch your back. Anyone who's ever tried to hunt him down has ended up dead," he paused, looking sadly. "Your parents, your grandparents and everyone that was ever close to them."

She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't. She was too upset to think straight. She turned on her heel and ran out the door, slamming it loudly behind her.

The old man watched her leave, staring sadly at the spot she'd just vacated. He looked back and forth at the brothers again, his eyes fixed on Sam. "Both of you need to look out for her. This werewolf won't stop until she's dead. I can promise you that."

"We will," Sam answered adamantly.

"I hope so, boy. She's a good girl. She didn't deserve what's happened to her."

Dean motioned his head to his brother, who followed Jessie out the door without a word.

"I really hope she'll let you help her," the old man said to Dean after Sam had left. "She's a stubborn girl. I'd hate to find out she got herself killed."

"Yeah, she's definitely stubborn," he remarked. "But we're gonna do our best to keep her safe."

"I really hope so, Dean," he said sadly. "She's in way over her head. But if anyone can help her, it's you and your brother."

He nodded his head, then walked out the door, closing it behind him. He stopped as he stepped outside, seeing his brother in the distance, standing behind Jessie, his arms on her shoulders, comforting her. He didn't want to interrupt them, but he felt stupid just standing, watching. He walked up to the car slowly, but noisily, so he would be heard.

Sam turned around as he heard his brother approach, looking gravely. The moment's interruption gave Jessie an excuse to break free of Sam's comforting grip. She wrenched open the car door quickly, jumped in and slammed the door behind her.

"Is she okay?" he asked his brother.

"Would you be, Dean?" he replied, with more venom than he'd meant to. "She doesn't know what to think."

He nodded once in agreement, then rapped on the driver's side window. He waited until she rolled it down, then leaned in closer. "Why don't you let me drive?"

She looked like she was about to disagree or put up an argument, but she sighed instead and got out of the car. "Thank you," she said as she handed him the keys. "Just drive her like she's yours."

"Absolutely," he replied with a smile.

She stood staring at him stoically for a moment, before opening the door to the back seat and climbing in.

He dangled the keys in his brother's face for a moment, before opening the driver's door. "Come on, Sammy," he called as he jumped in the car.

A/N: So now they have an idea what they're up against, but are they prepared for it? At least it explains some of the unusual behavior. And now Dean realizes why he did what he did. Do you think he'll say something to Jessie or his brother?

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Thanks for reading!