Chapter 72

Crowley was standing on Jessie's porch with his smug, signature grin. His grin becoming wider as she opened the door and yelled at him.

"Hello, my dear," he greeted her with a sickly sweet smile. "Is that any way to talk to someone who kept you company for the last sixty years?"

She narrowed her eyes in anger, but she was having a difficult time being brave. She felt like her whole body was shaking.

"What do you want, Crowley?" she said with a shaky voice. "I'm not opening this screen door."

He chuckled in amusement. "Are you afraid I would hurt you?"

She thought it was a rhetorical question, until he stood there silent, apparently looking for a response. However, she had no idea how to respond so she stayed silent hoping he would soon get bored.

He was quiet for many moments, his grin becoming wider the longer there was silence.

"Jessie, Jessie, Jessie," he said while chuckling lightly. "Why would I hurt you now that you're back where I need you to be?"

"Do you really think I would help you after all you did to me in hell?" she said angrily.

He laughed heartily. "That was nothing personal."

"I find that hard to believe," she replied in surprise.

"It's true," he said beaming widely.

She shuddered slightly as memories of hell flashed in her memory. But instead of making her upset, they made her angry. It had taken her some time to realize it, but he had very little power here, unlike the power he had had over her in hell. If nothing else, it made her feel slightly less afraid.

"You never told me how your search for Meg has been going these past six months," she said sarcastically.

The smile on his face disappeared instantly, replaced with a scowl.

"That's what I thought," she said with a smile, suddenly feeling brave. "Guess you should've spent more time looking for her and less time supervising my torture."

He was silent for many moments, his scowl slowly turning into a slight smirk. "Just because I need you, does not mean I can't hurt you, Jessie. You should be a little more mindful of your manners."

As brave as she had been feeling, the last sentence was an instant trigger for her. Suddenly she began to shake, fear pressing down on her like a lead weight. That sentence was one he would whisper in her ear when she was being defiant and just before he would unleash his worst tortures upon her. She tried to appear brave, but it was impossible when she was shaking so violently.

"See, you know your place," he said with a smirk as he watched her struggle. "Remember that when I need you. Or I'll find more ways for you to suffer."

She watched in silence as he snapped his fingers, disappearing instantly. She immediately slammed the front door, then fell to her knees, her face in her hands as she trembled violently, tears slowly rolling down her face.

When Jessie opened her eyes again, she realized she had fallen asleep on the hardwood floor. She was stiff, so getting up from the floor took her a few moments. She looked around wildly as she remembered what had happened, but soon calmed down as she realized she was in the house where it was safe.

She glanced out the window in the front door, noticing it was now pitch dark. An involuntary shudder ran through her as she remembered the last words Crowley had spoken to her. She did her best to shake it off as she went into her computer room to continue the search for her son.

Jessie spent the better part of the night and early morning on her computer in search of her son, as well as catching up on news from the past six months. She began to doze off in her chair as the sun began to rise over the horizon. It was fully up by the time she managed to drag her exhausted body upstairs into her own bed.

Her sleep was anything but sound. She had many nightmares to which she awoke screaming. Each time, she worried she wouldn't get back to sleep. But her body was so exhausted she didn't have to worry. She passed out easily each time.

It was very early in the afternoon when Jessie finally woke up. She didn't want to get out of bed since she still felt very tired, but she was hungry. Even though Bobby had brought her food, she hadn't really eaten any of it, and now she was starving. She reluctantly climbed out of bed, showered, then headed downstairs to find food.

She was in the kitchen making herself some scrambled eggs when she heard a knock at the door. She released a long sigh assuming she knew who it was, but continued to cook. It wasn't until she heard a second set of knocks that she went to answer the door.

She opened the front door, completely unsurprised to find Sam standing there. She tried really hard to return his bright, welcoming smile in kind, but she was hungry and annoyed.

"Don't you have your own key, Sam?" she asked with more annoyance than she meant to.

He was silent for a few moments feeling hurt. "I, uh, I just didn't want to force my company on you."

She averted her eyes in shame, speaking softly. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he said gently. "You don't have to apologize. I know none of this can be easy for you."

Once again she had to fight the urge to be snarky. She knew it was normal for her, or at least it used to be. But she didn't think Sam deserved it. At least not this time. And since the urge was so great, she didn't open her mouth to respond. Instead, she headed back towards the kitchen with a gesture for him to follow.

"Dammit," she exclaimed as she pulled the pan with her now burnt eggs off of the stove.

"Uh, I'm sorry, Jess," Sam said as she held her face in her hands in frustration.

She slowly removed her hands and sighed loudly. "It's not your fault, Sam. I thought I pulled it off the stove before I answered the door."

"Uh, why don't you let me cook for you?" he suggested lightly.

She stared at him for a few moments as if she hadn't heard him, before suddenly sighing.

"Promise me something first," she said as she walked over to the table and sat down.

"What's that?" he asked in surprise.

"Stop being afraid to talk to me, please," she said with a pleading look. "It makes me feel bad."

"I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention."

"I know," she said with a shake of her head. "I know all of this is weird and awkward and a million other adjectives. And I know you're walking on egg shells because you're afraid of hurting me. But I need you to be yourself. I need everything to be how I remember it. I need familiar."

He nodded his head in agreement before smirking slighty. "So you're saying you want me to overcook your eggs?"

She rolled her eyes mockingly before smiling. "Thank you, Sam. That's the closest thing to a laugh I've had in a very long time."

He returned her smile then began the task of cooking eggs. When they were finished, he brought the plate to her with a fork then sat across from her.

"These are actually good," she teased between forkfuls.

"Did you really doubt me?" he asked with a smile.

"Nah. But I gotta give you a hard time, right?" she said with a mouthful of eggs.

He nodded and grinned in response, but only for a moment. As much as he wanted to do what she asked, trying to pretend everything was fine was not something he wanted to do. Everything was different and everything had changed. He had been in so much pain for the last six months and when he thought it was over, he realized it wasn't. He figured pretending nothing had changed was probably not the best solution for anyone.

"What is it, Sam?" Jessie asked with concern.

Since he didn't want to upset her while she was eating, he excused himself and pretended to use the bathroom. When he returned to the kitchen, she was cleaning up the mess she had made.

"Are you ready to talk now, Sam?" she asked as she rinsed her plate off in the sink.

"Huh?" he said with surprise.

She turned around glancing at him with exasperation. "You obviously wanted to say something before you disappeared to use the bathroom."

He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "I didn't want to interrupt your meal."

Although she was slightly irritated with him, she knew he meant well. Instead of saying anything, she walked out of the kitchen grabbing his hand as she walked by and led him into the livingroom. When they reached the couch, she released his hand and sat down, waiting for him to sit down beside her.

After Jessie sat down, Sam sat down beside her. But instead of turning towards her, he glanced down at his hands nervously, unsure what he wanted to say.

"Sam, I'm not sure what it is that you wanted to say to me, but why don't you let me go first, okay?" she said gently.

He raised his head to look at her with surprise. He pondered what she had said for a few moments, trying to decide if he should speak first. Since he didn't think what he wanted to say was incredibly urgent, and because he was nervous, he allowed her to speak first.

"I don't really know where to begin, Sam," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "You would think that after all the time I spent in hell wishing I could be with you again that I would know what to say." She paused for a moment before going on. "I guess we could start with hell. I uh, I don't want to talk about it and I don't want you to ask me about it. If I offer any information then I do, but... I can't talk about it. Especially with you."

Sam opened his mouth to speak but Jessie cut him off before he could.

"No. This is not negotiable," she said quickly. "And I know what you're gonna say. You're gonna say, but you can talk to me about it. I'll understand. No, Sam, you won't understand." She paused for a moment, glancing away as she felt tears welling up. As she turned towards Sam again, he took her hand into his and squeezed it supportively. "I wish I could talk about it. I really do. But I don't think I'll ever be able to."

"As long as you understand you can talk to me about it if you want to," he said gently.

She nodded her head lightly. "I know. But I don't think I will. My horrors will have to stay my horrors. There's really no point in making them yours as well."

"Really?" he said as he squeezed her hand firmly once. "I'm your husband. You should be able to share anything with me."

She smiled lovingly as she squeezed his hand in return. "I can. But I don't want to. It wouldn't serve any purpose but to upset you unnecessarily. And I don't want to do that, Sam."

"I'm a big boy. I'm sure I can handle it."

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. When she reopened her eyes, they were slightly glistened by tears. "Maybe you can handle it. Maybe not. Regardless, I'm making the decision for you. This is not one of those things I can share with you. I hope you can understand that."

"Of course I do," he said as he reached out to take her other hand in his. "Whatever it is you need or want, I'm here for you."

"Are you sure?"

"What kind of question is that?" he asked in surprise. "Of course I am."

"Shall we test that?" she asked rhetorically, then paused for a few moments watching his eyebrow raise in curiosity. "I want to know who shot me."

He gazed at her in complete and utter shock. "That was the last thing I expected you to ask."

"But you know who it was, right?"

"Jess, why do you want to know this? What's done is done."

She sighed loudly. "You said anything I need. And this is something I need."

While he had promised he would do anything for her, this was not something he wanted her to know. He knew there would be follow up questions and he didn't want to answer them.

"It was, Brandon," he said after a long pause.

She pursed her lips for a moment as if she was thinking. "I guess I'm not surprised it was him. Is he still alive?"

He hesitated for a few moments before quietly answering, "No."

She opened her eyes wide in surprise for a moment then sighed loudly, looking disappointed. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was looking forward to taking care of him myself." She stopped speaking when she noticed Sam's entire demeanor change. "Sam," she called in concern. "Who killed him?"

He gazed down at his hands, which were still holding Jessie's. This was the question he wasn't ready to answer for so many reasons. But he knew she wasn't going to drop it, so he steeled himself. When he met her gaze again, he swallowed hard. "It was me," he replied in barely more than a whisper.

Her eyes opened widely in surprise. "Sam. Why would you do that?"

He turned his head away with shame. "I just did," he mumbled quietly.

"Sam," she called gently as she placed her hand on the side of his face, gently urging him to look at her.

"I'm sorry," he said when he finally turned his gaze back towards her.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," she said as she wiped a lone tear that had fallen from his eye. "I'm just worried about you, that's all. Killing someone like that is, not easy."

He smiled at her gratefully. "You're the one who came back from hell and you're worried about me. That's not how it should be."

"Really, Sam?" she said with a bit of sadness in her voice. "You must've suffered, too. This can't just be about me."

He smiled slightly although tears were welling up in his eyes. "You have no idea, Jess."

"Then tell me," she prodded gently. "Start by telling me about Brandon. How did that go down?"

"It was supposed to be Dean who took him out," he began to explain, his voice shaking just slightly. "But he said something that made me see red and I just, uh, just reacted."

She gazed at him lovingly, wiping another tear from his face. "I'm so sorry, Sam. This is all my fault."

"No," he said adamantly. "This is not your fault. That bastard killed you and tried to kill our son. He deserved what he got."

"Yes, yes he did," she said with tears welling up in her eyes. "But I know you. I know this must be bothering you. Hurting you."

"I would do anything for you, Jess," he said as he began to run his fingers through her hair. "For me he was just another monster to kill."

While she didn't believe the cavalier attitude he was trying to convey at the moment, she very much appreciated the sentiment. Although she would've rather it had been Dean who killed Brandon, she was just glad he was dead. It saved her the trouble of hunting him down and killing him. And she knew it would've changed her. Because she would've made sure he suffered first. And she had learned some things in hell.

"Are you ok, Jess?" he asked in concern when she went quiet with an odd expression on her face.

His question snapped her out of her dark thoughts.

"I'm okay," she said with a smile, hoping to relieve his worry. "Hell just sneaks into my head randomly."

"Are you sure that's all it was?" he asked with concern.

She smiled lovingly, placing her hand on the side of his face. "Yes. I promise that's all it was."

He lowered the hand he had running through her hair to her face, stroking her cheek lightly.

As she stared into the loving eyes of her husband, everything she had gone through disappeared from her mind at that moment. She leaned in and kissed his lips lightly. When he returned the kiss, she allowed herself to be swept up into the moment. Shutting everything out of her mind, she kissed him with as much fervor as he had for her. But the moment his hands began to sneak their way under her clothes, she pulled away violently as she began to feel a sudden rush of panic.

"I'm sorry," Sam said while still breathing heavily. "I got carried away."

"No, don't be sorry," she said breathlessly. "It's just that..." she paused trying to think of the words she wanted to say. "It's because..." she stopped herself again, realizing she didn't want to mention anything about hell. "I, uh...it's just me. Please don't be sorry."

He reached out his hand to take hers and squeezed it gently in support. "You asked me to take it slowly and I didn't. For that I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really," she said as she took her hand from his and stood up. "I really need to get back to what I was doing."

He looked at her questioningly. "Oh?"

She smiled and patted him on the shoulder as she walked past him. She headed into her computer room and sat down on the chair. She was busily typing when Sam finally followed her.

"Is it okay for me to ask what you're doing?" he asked as he stood in the doorway.

"Of course," she replied while still typing. "I'm looking for our son."

"Oh," he replied in surprise.

She turned her chair around looking at him suspiciously. "What is it, Sam?"

He stood at the door shifting his weight and looking uncomfortable for a few moments before letting out a sigh. He knew what he wanted to discuss with his wife was going to be difficult and he had hoped to have Bobby and Dean to back him up. He didn't think he would be able to tackle this subject alone, but it was too late for that now.

"We need to talk."