Chapter 58
Although it had been a long night, Jessie still managed to wake up pretty early. Her injured arm was throbbing painfully and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't get back to sleep. It would've helped if she could take something for the pain, but she couldn't. Not anything that would make a difference.
She rolled over to find Sam's side of the bed empty. She wasn't panicked, until she realized that his side of the bed hadn't been slept in yet. She knew there were several reasons why that might be, and most of them weren't good.
After quickly mussing her hair so it wasn't standing straight up, she walked into the livingroom to find Dean sleeping upright on the couch in almost the exact same position as she'd left him only hours before. She knew it meant that Sam hadn't come back and Dean had fallen asleep waiting for him. But before jumping to conclusions, she looked around the entire apartment to make sure he wasn't there.
Before she panicked and woke up Dean, since she didn't find him anywhere in the apartment, she checked her phone to see if he'd left any messages. After checking it and finding nothing, she began to fear the worst.
"Dean," she called loudly as she nudged his shoulder lightly. "Get up."
He snorted a little before his eyes slowly opened while he stretched his arms above his head.
"What?" he asked groggily.
"Sam hasn't been back since he went for a walk," she replied anxiously.
He stood upright in an instant, a look of concern on his face. "What time is it?"
"Almost ten."
He looked concerned, quickly turning around so she couldn't tell how concerned. Normally he would freak out if he thought his brother was in trouble. But he knew he needed to keep Jessie calm.
"He didn't leave any messages or notes?" he asked as he checked his phone.
"No."
"He didn't leave me one either," he replied as calmly as he could as he turned around to glance at her. "It's not like him."
She swallowed hard, glancing away from him. She didn't want to fear the worst. But with Meg going after Mike and almost getting killed by the Aswang, it was difficult to think luck was on her side at the moment.
"It'll be fine, Jessie," Dean said supportively. "We'll find him."
She nodded her head lightly. "I know."
As if they were thinking the exact same thing, they picked up their own phones simultaneously. But before either of them could make a call, they heard the familiar sound of flapping wings, announcing the arrival of the angel, Castiel.
"Dean. Jessie," he greeted them each with a nod.
"Cas, we don't really have time for you right now," Dean said. "We're—"
"Looking for Sam?" he interrupted.
Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"Do you know where he is?" she asked hopefully.
"That's why I am here," the angel replied.
"Some time today, Cas," Dean said impatiently.
"I came to find you and Sam earlier this morning, but I found Sam first. He told me to let you sleep."
He sighed impatiently. "That explains nothing, Cas."
"Right. My apologies," he replied, seemingly distracted. "Bobby needed some assistance, so I came to look for you."
"Why wouldn't he just call?"
"There was no time, Dean. Besides, he said it would be too dangerous."
"I don't under—"
"It will be quicker if I take you to them," he interrupted.
He raised his hands up, but before he could touch either of them, Dean spoke up.
"You're not zapping us, Cas. My car is here and so is all our stuff. Just tell me where they are."
He gazed at him impassively for a moment before speaking. "Just get your stuff ready and I'll just send it all there."
Dean shot Jessie an impatient look, which she might have found slightly amusing if she was utterly worried about Bobby. She didn't even take a second to think, she began to pack her belongings, followed by Sam's.
"Are you okay?" Dean asked as he walked into the bedroom.
"I'm fine," she replied quickly as she stuffed Sam's clothing into his dufflebag.
He knew by her quick, dismissive response that she was anything but fine. He also knew why. If Castiel had come to get them for Bobby, that meant Mike was involved.
"If you need to talk about anything, I'm here."
She sighed impatiently. "Just make sure everything's ready, Dean. That's what I need right now."
He knew by her tone of voice that she was upset but didn't want to discuss it. And since he wasn't in the mood to argue with her, he did exactly as she said. He went through the entire apartment packing everything they'd brought with them, leaving behind anything that was unnecessary or could be easily replaced.
Castiel popped in and out while he was waiting for them to get ready. Dean knew that Jessie was too busy to notice, but he did. And each and every time that he did, it made him feel uneasy, although he wasn't sure why.
Once Jessie was sure they had everything, she let Castiel know she was ready. She'd travelled in this manner once before, but she didn't particularly enjoy it. In fact, if there was any other way, she knew Dean would go along with her. It wasn't his favourite mode of transportation either.
She closed her eyes as Castiel's hand came near, hoping that if she kept them closed she wouldn't feel queasy afterwards. However, the instant he touched her, she opened her eyes on instinct. She was in a completely different place, her legs shaky and her stomach was a bit uneasy.
"Where are we?" Dean and Jessie asked simultaneously.
They were standing in front of a one floor ramshackle house that had seen better days. Neither of them recognized it.
"I don't have time to explain," he replied, seemingly distracted. "Bobby is in the house. He'll explain."
Before either of them had a chance to open their mouths, Castiel vanished.
"At least my car is here in one piece," Dean mumbled quietly.
She would've laughed, but something about where they were didn't sit right. She was only slightly worried before. But now, she was feeling incredibly anxious.
As if he had read her mind, Dean headed into the house ahead of her.
She was only footsteps behind him, but each step seemed like a mile. Everything that had happened since she'd first awakened was weighing on her. It wasn't like Sam not to call. And it wasn't like Castiel to show up to bring them some place, then just as mysteriously disappear. There was a reason he had, but he didn't stick around long enough to explain himself. From what she knew of him it all seemed out of character.
The first thing she noticed when she walked into the decrepit house was Bobby, who was sitting at an old rickety kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey. She knew something was seriously wrong, since it was still pretty early in the morning, although she suspected he'd been up all night, or at least since early in the morning. The look in his eyes was almost apologetic, and sorrowful, sending a shockwave of fear throughout her body, her stomach becoming queasier than it already was.
"What's going on?" she asked breathlessly.
Bobby continued to gaze at her with the same expression, also continuing to stay silent. She was about to demand an answer when Sam stode towards her from the doorway of an adjacent room. The look on his face was much like Bobby's, making another wave of nausea wash through her.
"I think we should talk in another room," he suggested quietly, taking hold of her good hand.
She shook her hand loose. "No. Whatever it is you can tell me right here. Right now."
He sighed lightly in regret, unsure how to tell her what he needed to.
"Please," he begged quietly.
Dean didn't know what was going on anymore than she did. But what he did know was the look on his brother's face. He needed to tell her something upsetting. He shot her a pleading look, hoping she would do as his brother asked.
She glanced back and forth between Bobby and Dean a couple of times before extending her hand for Sam to take. She let him lead her into a room that looked like it had been the livingroom once upon a time, impatiently waiting for an explanation.
He stood in front of her, grasping both of her hands firmly, a look of deep regret etched on his face.
"I don't know how to tell you this, Jess," he began, his voice quivering with sadness. "But, uh, Mike's dead."
"What?!" she yelled hysterically, ripping her hands from his. "No! No way! He can't be! No!"
Tears began to stream from her face. Her hands flying up to cover them, while Sam wrapped his arms around her tightly. She fought against him for a moment, giving up quickly as her grief took hold.
It was several minutes later before her sobbing slowed and she was able to speak, although she was finding it difficult to catch her breath. Her mind and heart were also still racing.
"What happened, Sam?" she stammered.
"We can talk about that later," he said quietly, reassuringly. "Do you want to see him?"
She nodded her head weakly, taking a hold of his proffered hand, allowing him to lead her down a hallway and into another room.
She closed her eyes as she noticed the figure of a man lying on an old cot, covered by a blanket. She shuffled close to it, but was unable to move the blanket. She stared at it unblinkingly, unable to move. It was almost as if time had suddenly became still, or at the very least, unimportant at that moment.
Sam knew she wouldn't be able to remove the blanket herself, so he began to slowly lift it away from Mike's face, watching to see if she would ask him to stop. She didn't give any signal she wanted him to stop, so he pulled it back quickly, revealing the broken and bloody face of the man she'd called her best friend for more than half of her life.
Jessie collapsed to her knees in front of the cot, wailing, crying uncontrollably, occasionally uttering words of blame between the sobs.
Sam kneeled on the floor beside her, his arm laid across her supportively, feeling useless, unsure of how he could possibly console her. He had tried to help Mike when Castiel had called on him, but he'd already been too late. His injuries were already too severe. If he hadn't been more concerned with Bobby's welfare, maybe he could have done something. Maybe. Either way he felt incredibly guilty. The tears he cried weren't only for her. They were tears of guilt and shame.
It was several minutes later when she asked him for directions to the bathroom, which she proceeded to head to in a rush. He followed right behind her, but she slammed the door as he tried to follow her inside. He was afraid to leave her alone in her state of mind, but he also didn't want to upset her any more than she already was. However, when her heard the sound of her vomitting, his concern couldn't keep him out.
"Get out, Sam," she said with shame as she was leaning over the toilet bowl.
"I can't," he replied as he pulled the hair away from her face. "Whether you want to admit it or not, you need me right now."
She felt ashamed having him in the bathroom with her while she was sick. But he was right. She needed him right now. She'd never admit it to him. But she did. She hated to feel vulnerable and weak. But somehow it was okay with him.
After cleaning herself up, she headed back into the kitchen where Bobby and Dean were sitting down discussing something quietly. She had to assume they were discussing what had happened, especially since they became silent the moment she walked in the room.
"I need to know what happened," she demanded quietly.
Dean glanced back and forth from Bobby to his brother a few times before excusing himself from the room.
"Why don't you sit, Jess?" Bobby asked, pointing to the seat across from him.
She shook her head adamantly. "No. I can't sit right now."
Sam shot Bobby a meaningful look, wrapping his arm around her waist supportively. She leaned into him just slightly, letting him know she appreciated his comfort.
"Alright," Bobby said, taking a long drink from his glass of whiskey. "I made it to the bar to pick Mike up. All of that went swimingly. It was while we were driving to one of my safe houses that Meg attacked us."
"How? How did she find you?" she asked. "You had a hex bag with you, right?"
He gazed at her with shame. "Yeah. I had no idea how she found us until afterwards. When I was moving Mike's body, a strange coin fell out of his pocket. She must of planted it on him at the bar."
"That would explain why she didn't hurt him at the bar. But why wait? What was she after?"
He averted his gaze. "She was hoping that he'd lead her to you, Jess. But when she realized he was with me, she figured she didn't need him anymore. She figured she could send you a message instead."
"What?"
"I tried to stop her. She knocked me for a loop before she went after him."
"Wait a minute. What? You look just fine, Bobby. Not even a hair out of place."
He glanced away uneasily for a moment, attempting to hide his look of regret.
"I look fine 'cause the angel healed me."
"What?" she said shortly, her anger rising steadily. "Then why is Mike dead? Why didn't Castiel heal him?
"Jessie, you need to calm down," Bobby replied soothingly.
"Don't you dare tell me to calm down, Bobby!" she said furiously. "I want to know why Castiel didn't heal Mike and I want to know now!"
Sam attempted to calm her down, but she pushed him away, the commotion bringing Dean back into the room.
"You know, don't you?" she asked Bobby, angry tears were being to fall from her eyes. "You would've asked him to heal, Mike. Wouldn't you?"
"Of course," he replied genuinely. "I did."
"Then why didn't he?" she asked, her angry tears turning to sadness.
"He couldn't, Jess," he replied with despair. "Mike was already dead by the time he showed up."
She shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand. Angels can bring people back from the dead."
"I can explain, Jess. If you'll just give me a chance."
She was silent for a moment, attempting to get control over her emotions once again. It was a struggle. Shaking her head once she was ready to listen.
He hesitated for a moment, knowing what he was about to say was probably going to send her over the deep end. However, there was no way to avoid that now. He had to tell her the truth.
"Things are different up in heaven now, Jess. It's kinda like a democracy. Cas told me he can only bring someone back to life if the other angels would allow it."
She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths and swallowing hard, fresh tears beginning to find their way from her eyes. She was fighting a whirlwind of emotions. Sadness, anger and regret, the most prevalent of them. Each fighting to be the dominant one. The only way for her to keep herself in check was to not allow any of them to take hold. She needed to feel each and every one of them. All while the demon blood running through her veins was trying to keep the focus on the anger and rage.
"I need to be alone," she said once she'd opened her eyes. She didn't wait for anyone to respond, immediately running out the front door.
Sam attempted to follow after her, but Bobby convinced him not to. He knew she needed to be alone, which was what he needed as well. A single glance was all it took for Dean to usher his brother out of the room to talk.
Bobby stood up from the table, walking across the room, picking up the lid from his bottle of whiskey off the floor. He examined it, wondering how it had flown across the room when no one had been near it. All he knew is Jessie had become enraged and it flew across the room, as if she had telekinetic powers. But he knew she didn't. He only wished he knew what it meant. However, he knew he should keep this secret for the time being. There was no point in worrying or upsetting Sam or Dean needlessly. Until he knew something for sure, he would have to keep it to himself.
After running out the front door, Jessie ran around the house, into the backyard and continued to walk until she was well away from it. Just as the house was run down, so was the property surrounding it. The grass, bushes and trees were all overgrown, hanging here and there. She had to climb over, under and around obstacles until she reached a bit of a clearing where a bunch of trees had fallen over many years before. Finding the cleanest log, she sat down and began crying.
Once her sobbing subsided, her anger began to return once again. Against her better judgement, she yelled for Crowley for several minutes, hoping he would find her. Of course the longer she waited, the more angry she became, until she was pretty much seething.
"Hello, my dear," Crowley greeted her with his usual furtive grin.
"What the hell took you so long?" she demanded furiously.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Might I remind you who you're speaking to."
She took a deep breath to try and calm herself. "I told you where Meg was, why didn't you find her?"
"You didn't give me an exact location, now did you?"
"Is that an excuse for your gross incompetence?"
She'd barely spoken the words when she felt her throat constricting, leaving her to struggle for breath. It was only seconds, but it felt much longer than that. She knew she'd overstepped the bounds of their 'relationship', but she had been past the point of caring. However, his 'gentle' reminder snapped her out of it.
"I know all about your...loss," he said dismissively. "You're lucky it was only him."
She began to see red again, glaring at him furiously.
"Screw you, Crowley! You knew where she was but you let her kill my best friend, didn't you?"
"Why would I care one way or the other?"
"You know exactly why. So you can keep me dependant on the damn demon blood. So you can keep my under your thumb."
He grinned furtively. "If that's what you think, then shouldn't you be asking yourself why you're allowing me to?"
He was right and she knew it. He was manipulating her. But at the same time she was using him. And her pride, well it wouldn't let her believe that Crowley could pull one over on her. She had to believe that no matter what his plans were for her child, she would be able to stop him. It was the only way she'd been able to keep going for this long. And it was the only way she was going to be able to keep going.
"Besides this," he said, tossing her a thermos, "What exactly do you want? Are you looking to make a deal for your friend's life?"
"What?!" she replied with outrage. "I've already sold my self respect to you. Do you really think I'd sell my soul, too?"
"Your loss," he replied flippantly.
She closed her eyes for a moment to quell the rage that was once again bubbling inside her. When she opened them, he was gone. Sighing in relief, she downed the contents of the thermos before throwing it into the trees in disgust.
It was nearly silent in the woods surrounding the house, only a few critters could be heard scurrying around. And now that Crowley was gone and she was alone again, her sadness began to overwhelm her. She knew she never could have sold her soul for Mike, but that didn't make it hurt any less. It was her fault he was dead and it wasn't fair. And although she loved Sam with all of her heart. At this moment she wished she could go back to a time before she'd met the Winchesters.
She sat on the log for almost an hour, most of the time spent crying. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this badly. But she had to assume it was the night she accidentally killed her boyfriend. That was the night she swore she would never attempt suicide again. Not because it was wrong. But as a punishment. She would live on and be miserable for what she'd done. Something she'd done for a long time. But no longer. Now she wanted to live. Not only for Sam and her unborn child, but for revenge. She was going to make Meg pay for what she'd done. If it was the last thing she'd ever do.
As she approached the house, she nearly ran into Sam as he rounded the corner of the house to look for her. She wanted to be angry with him for following her, but when she realized she'd been gone for over an hour, she couldn't blame him.
"I was worried about you," he said apprehensively.
"It's okay, Sam," she replied ruefully. "I, uh, kinda need you right now."
He smiled at her supportively, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her close.
She was on the verge of tears again, but having Sam hold her tightly helped keep her from losing it again. She'd cried enough for the time being. And she had some things to think about. She couldn't do that while she was busy crying.
Once she was back inside the house, she did her best to ignore the relieved looks she saw pass between Bobby and Dean and get on with the nasty task she needed to complete. Making up a story about Mike that both the cops and coroner would believe. That was all that mattered. Everyone she knew personally would at least believe she wouldn't have had anything to do with his death, since they all knew how close they had been. The only problem was, she couldn't think straight. This was going to have to be more of a discussion between the three men with the occasional input from herself.
After an hour, they came up with a viable story that hopefully the authorities would believe. By this point, Jessie didn't really care. If they locked her up, she would take her punishment without so much as a whimper. She deserved to suffer for what had happened to him. No amount of punishment would ever make her feel differently. For the meantime, the crushing weight of her guilt would have to be punishment enough.
Bobby and Jessie drove in his Chevelle with Mike's body in the trunk, removing it once they'd made it to the destination they'd chosen to recreate the 'accident' that had claimed his life. It had happened on a quiet back road, which is exactly the spot they'd chosen for the re-creation. It wasn't the best plan, but since Dean's idea to ask Castiel for some divine assistance went unanswered, it was the best idea they could come up with.
She did everything that was required of her, although it was the last thing she wanted to do. She had to fight off several waves of nausea and a few dizzy spells, which she didn't mention to anyone. But by the time they were through, no one seemed to suspect anything was amiss.
After leaving the police station, where the police had insisted on interrogating them, they met up with the Winchesters at a prearranged location before stopping at a small diner, which Dean declared was a very late lunch or an early dinner. Either way, Jessie didn't feel like eating. She knew she had to, but she was afraid it wasn't going to stay down.
She ordered a very small meal hoping that once it came she would be able to eat. But all she could do was move it around with her fork.
"Aren't you hungry?" Sam asked with concern, placing his arm around her.
She knew a big part of her reluctance to eat came from being upset about her friend's death. And although she knew he was worried about her, she couldn't help the attitude.
"Would you be, Sam?" she replied harshly.
He looked confused and slightly taken aback.
"I know you're upset but you need to eat something."
"Don't tell me what I need right now," she replied angrily, throwing down her fork and pushing her plate of food away from her.
"Jessie—"
"Cram it, Bobby!" she practically yelled before leaving the table, and the diner. Ignoring the strange looks from the staff and patrons.
Sam attempted to get up from the table to follow her but his brother stopped him.
"Just let her go, Sam."
"Why? Are you gonna tell me not to worry about her again, Dean?"
"Enough!" Bobby said authoritatively. "I'll go after her. You two eat."
The brothers shot each other a look of blame before watching him leave the diner.
Bobby found Jessie leaning up against the Impala, her arms crossed. Not in an angry manner, but in a sorrowful, protective manner. She looked more upset than angry when he approached, which was definitely a surprise to him.
"I'm not really in the mood to talk, Bobby," she said before he could even open his mouth.
"I know, Jess. I don't even know what to say to you, except, we're worried about you."
She shook her head in disabelief. "Skipping a couple of meals isn't gonna to hurt me. I'm well fed."
He nodded his head in agreement lightly. "I know. You're right. But I think there's something else we should discuss."
She glanced at him curiously. "What's that?"
His gaze shifted, unable to continually look into her eyes.
"Uh, I know this is kind of a strange question but, have you ever been telekinetic?"
"What?" she asked with utter surprise.
"Well, earlier today when you got upset, I swear the lid from my bottle of whiskey went flying across the room."
She stared at him as stoically as she could, but inside she was screaming. This was one of those things Crowley had warned her about. She knew she'd done it. And she also knew Bobby was probably going to be suspicious no matter what her response was.
"I don't know what to tell you," she replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.
He wasn't sure if she was being completely honest, but now wasn't the time to question her further. However, he decided he would keep a closer eye on her.
Bobby kept her company for a few short minutes before the Winchesters came out of the diner. After a quick goodbye to him, she climbed into the back of the Impala and laid down. Using her dufflebag as a pillow she dozed off almost immediately.
It was a long drive back to Bobby's house, which Dean did as quickly as possible, only stopping once for dinner, which Jessie only managed to nibble at her food. And two more stops, one for gas and one for a potty break—arriving around midday.
The moment she was back at Bobby's, she began making calls for funeral arrangements. She began to get irritated quickly when Sam continued to hover around her constantly looking like he had a question to ask, but never did. And after one particularly unpleasant call, she finally decided to call him on it.
"What's your problem, Sam?" she asked much more harshly than she had intended.
He seemed unphased by her attitude.
"I just wanted to know why you're the one making all of the arrangements? Doesn't he have a family?"
She snorted. "Yeah, right. His mom passed away a couple years back. And his dad, well, he disowned him once he found out he was gay."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I was pretty much the only family he had left," she said, her voice trembling and her eyes welling up with tears.
"I'm so sorry, Jess," he said, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
She had wanted to get through all of the phone calls she needed to make without losing it, but she couldn't help it now. It had been a long time since she'd thought about how little family Mike had had and how they were both in a similar boat. And in all reality, she thought she'd be long dead before him. She never thought she'd be planning his funeral. Especially since it was her fault he was dead.
"Is there something I could help you with?" Sam asked once her sobbing had subsided.
She nodded her head. "Yeah, but not right now," she replied, wiping tears from her face. "I can make the phone calls myself, but, I can't go to his house alone."
He nodded supportively, releasing his grip on her.
Since it was almost evening when she was finished making the calls she needed to, Dean went out to get dinner for everyone. And although she was hungry, she had a difficult time keeping any of it down. At least she managed to eat enough to satisfy the over protective men in the house. Or at the very least, they didn't say anything to her.
After a very restless sleep that night, she woke up the next morning with a mission. There were too many things she needed to do to let anyone, or anything, get in her way. She nibbled at the breakfast that Bobby gave her before rushing Sam out of the house.
Although Sam had insisted on driving, she refused to let him drive her car. It had been a while since she'd been behind the wheel of her girl and she wanted to enjoy it while she could. The rest of day, and probably the next few, would be unpleasant so she needed to take whatever joy she could get, where ever she could get it.
When she arrived, she hesitated at the door to Mike's apartment for a minute before she could finally unlock the door. As she walked through the threshhold, she had to stop for a moment to fight back tears that were welling up in her eyes. The place was almost exactly as she remembered it. She hadn't been there in probably two years, but it hadn't really changed all that much.
Although she tried not to let them, her feelings managed to overwhelm her. She sat on the couch, a couch she'd spent nights sleeping on in the past, and cried, while Sam sat supportively beside her, his arm around her.
It wasn't long before she was able to take control of her emotions, much to Sam's surprise. It wasn't so much the demon blood than it was her own desire to do right by Mike. She had to get through all of this for him.
She searched through his closets until she found something for him to wear. It wasn't completely fancy, but it wasn't at all casual, so at least no one could say it was inappropriate as his last outfit. When she turned around, she found Sam glancing at some framed photos on his dresser. She hesitated, afraid to go near them, wanting to keep it together.
"Is this you?" Sam asked lifting one of the photos into his hand.
She approached him slowly, glancing at the photograph, smiling as she noticed the two goofy kids, herself and Mike shortly after they'd met.
"Yeah, that's me," she replied slightly ashamed. "I was a gangly pre-adolescent then."
"You were adorable," he said teasingly.
She smacked him lightly. "At least I was taller than you at that age."
He smiled, placing the photo down and picking up another. "When was this?"
"Oh my god," she said with even more shame. "This was the day I was on American Idol."
He placed the picture back, reaching for another, but she placed his hand on his to stop him.
"I can't go through memory lane right now, Sam," she said, her voice quivering slightly.
"I'm sorry," he said, grasping for her hand.
She pulled her hand away in one swift motion.
"Yeah, everyone's sorry," she replied, turning away from him quickly. "I have some important papers to find, then we can get outta here."
He sighed, wishing he knew what to say to make her feel better.
Once she found what she needed, the couple left the apartment and headed in to town.
She had many stops to make throughout the day, which she managed to get through without breaking down. And by the time she was done, she was exhausted. Between dealing with so many people, making so many decisions and fighting her emotions, she just wanted to close her eyes and pass out. She even allowed Sam to drive back to her house.
She said little to him once they arrived, going straight up to bed, climbing under her covers. Now that she could relax, she released every bit of emotion she'd been holding back, crying herself to sleep.
Jessie was up the next morning at the crack of dawn, waking Sam up as she climbed out of bed. For the first time in days she actually felt rested, but that was the least of her problems. Now she was feeling shaky. She wasn't sure if she just needed to eat, or she needed something else. But she knew it would be nearly impossible to sneak away from Sam. He had been hovering so close to her, like he was afraid to let her out of his sight. She didn't blame him. She knew he was worried. However, that wasn't going to make it any easier on her.
"Sam," she called while looking through her cupboards. "You wouldn't mind going to the store for me, would you? I feel like having toast for breakfast."
He seemed reluctant but he agreed, leaving almost immediately.
The moment Sam was out of view, she called Crowley and had him meet her in the backyard. He was his usual self, only with a few more insults in him. He reminded her that Meg would probably be nearby and to watch her ass. But she didn't care. She hoped she ran into her.
By the time Sam made it back, she was feeling much better. Her shaking had disappeared and her head was clear. Which was a good thing. It was going to be another very long day.
After breakfast, she spent the next hour choosing an appropriate outfit for the day. She chose a conservative, dark colored dress. One that wasn't too revealing, but also didn't say business woman or FBI agent, which was actually difficult since she chose not to wear a dress most of the time. She even surprised herself that she owned such a thing.
Sam stood by Jessie through everything she had to go through that day. From one thing to another. The most difficult being the visitation that evening. She hadn't wanted to have one, but the funeral director had talked her into it. It was the one time she wished Sam had opened his mouth and made a decision for her. Of course she could never blame him. He was doing everything he could for her, and she hadn't made it very easy. But then again, what was easy about your best friend in the world dying? Especially when it was your fault.
She had a difficult time playing nice with some of the people who came to pay their respects to Mike during the visitation, but all in all she made it through. At the very least, it bode well for the next day. The funeral.
Jessie had a difficult time sleeping that night. Too much was going through her mind, which seemed to be making the baby restless as well. No matter how comfortable she got in the bed, no matter how tired she was, sleep was pretty much elusive for much of the night. And once she finally did fall asleep, it wasn't restful.
Sam had to wake Jessie up the next morning, although he didn't want to. He knew she hadn't slept very well, he hadn't either. Listening to her breathing all night, he didn't fall asleep until hers had become even, telling him she was finally asleep. He woke up only two hours later when she moved around in her sleep. But by the time he realized she was still asleep, he was wide awake and was unable to go back to sleep.
He did everything he could to support her. He didn't question her and followed everything she asked him to do. He wasn't sure how difficult the funeral was going to be for her, but he was worried. She'd been keeping it together much better than he'd expected. Especially for being sober. He was afraid that at any moment she might lose it. And he was even more afraid he wouldn't be able to help her through it. He just had to hold on to the hope that their love would conquer all of it, as cheesy as it sounded to him.
Jessie managed to keep it together through the funeral, including the eulogy. Tears fell, but she was able to speak without interruption. She had practiced what she was going to say, but in the end, most of it was stuff she hadn't bothered to write down. She realized that she had so much to say about Mike, even the priest had become impatient. But the service was not for him, nor was it for the rest of the people attending. It was for Mike. And he deserved the best.
When the service ended, it was her job to stick around and speak to people. This was probably the worst part of the whole day. She didn't want to stay and talk to people she barely knew, or didn't like. But once again she didn't have a choice. She would have to do her best to keep it together just a bit longer for Mike's sake.
She was speaking to a particularly obnoxious bar patron that had known Mike for a long time when she noticed the funeral director walk up to Sam and whisper something in his ear. Sam's expression changed from stoic to distressed in a split second. He hadn't seemed to notice she'd been watching him, because as soon as he noticed, his face went stoic once again.
She excused herself as politely as possible before sweeping over to Sam, grasping him by the arm firmly.
"What's going on?" she asked anxiously.
"Uh, it's nothing," he lied.
"Sam," she said with a serious look on her face. "I saw the funeral director speak to you. What's going on?"
He gazed at her apologetically but stayed silent.
"Dammit, Sam. What is it?" she pleaded quietly. "Demons?"
"Worse," he replied tersely.
"What could be worse than demons?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.
He sighed in defeat. "I'm sorry, Jess."
She wasn't sure what he meant, until she looked into the direction he was looking. Then she saw it. It was even worse than she would've imagined. She would've welcomed demons right now. She needed to blow off some steam. This she didn't need.
"Who the fuck called the paparazzi?" she asked furiously. "How the hell would they have found us here?"
"I don't know, but we need to find another way out of here," he replied soothingly.
She rolled her eyes in irritation at his lame attempt to assuage her anger. However, she would've been more angry if he'd told her to calm down. She had to imagine he was much smarter than that.
After speaking to the funeral director, the couple managed to find another way out of the building where no one happened to be. It meant they had to leave her car for the meantime, but it was a small price to pay to avoid the nosey reporters. She really regretted ever going on that TV show.
Neither Sam or Jessie had any idea who would've called them, but they each had their own theories.
Sam assumed it was someone that didn't like Jessie very much, which he mistakenly suggested there seemed to be no shortage of. For that remark he got the silent treatment for an hour.
Jessie figured it wasn't so much someone as it was something. She though it was possible Meg had been the one to call them. She would never suggest it to Sam, because then he would ask why she thought a demon would possibly be so passive-aggressive. Definitely didn't seem like demon behaviour. But she knew it had to be her. It was the only way she would be able to get to her while Crowley was nearby. It only made her want to kill Meg more.
A/N: I had a difficult time writing this chapter. I regretted having to kill Mike, but it was necessary to the plot. I had written half of the chapter before I actually decided to go ahead with it.
Thanks for reading!