Witnessing Dean's idea of 'safe' driving did nothing but confirm to Jessie that he wasn't exactly mentally stable at the moment. She was having one hell of time trying to keep up with him and she was cruising at an even 80, not to mention the fact Dean seemed to be unaware of the fact the cars come with these little things called turn signals. She shuddered as the Impala screeched to a halt, smirked when she realized that Dean's beliefs on parking where just as twisted as his on driving, and laughed when she saw him practically tear off the hotel door as he jerked it open. I think I'll stay here for a while, before going in there.
Dean slowly sank back onto the bed as his eyes darted frantically across the room. It looked like the place had been ransacked. The lamp that once sat on the nightstand was at present shattered into a million pieces which were strewn all over the space between the beds. All the research he had done was under the coffee table, instead of on top of it and both of the chairs had been knocked over. The beds were a mess, the sheets pulled in a thousand different ways, but they always were. Dean noticed, however, that Sam's bed held some T-shirts, his spare jacket, and their first aid kit all of which Sam usually carried in his backpack. Dean jumped off the bed and launched a hunt for the bag. Maybe Sam just left on his own. Yeah, that would be ok…
Concern dominated Jessie's features as she crossed the threshold and caught site of the young man who had appeared so strong a day ago, hunched over on the edge of the bed, slowly rocking back and forth, head in hands. She knelt down in front of the trembling man and gently reached out, lightly touching his chin as she guided his face to hers.
"I-I can't find his bag" Dean stammered, his hazel eyes, now pools of unshed tears.
"Well, let me help you." Jessie said gently.
"It's not here. Sam's not here." Jessie had to strain to hear his reply. God, he really loves his brother. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life than when she looked into his eyes. Stay strong, Jessie, stay strong. Despite all her inner resolve, Jessie's heart broke as she watched tears weave their way down the young man's face. The room had fallen silent, save for Dean's heavy breathing. Jessie was scared that he was going to hyperventilate if she didn't do something quickly.
"Dean, can you think of anywhere Sam would go?" Jessie almost felt like she was talking to a child, a scared lost child, and her tone conveyed it.
"No." Dean sniffed and began rubbing the tears from his face.
"Well, then, how about we stay here and wait for him. I don't mind, the Toliver house has been here for a long time and I don't think it's gonna go anywhere before Sam comes back." Jessie attempted a smile, expecting Dean to give a weak "okay" in reply.
"Did you say Toliver house?" Dean's voice cracked. His mind was racing as he ran over to the pile of papers lying haphazardly under the table, nearly knocking Jessie over in the process.
"Yes." A stunned Jessie answered. "Dean, what's going on?"
"My dad--he—Sam and I—our job—we…" Dean didn't know how to explain it, it was different when people requested that he fix their supernatural problem. He couldn't just offer up his life's story to anyone that he came in contact with, and truth be told, his trust in Jessie was beginning to crumble. And while Dean was panicked, guilt soon overtook him as he found the news clippings from years past. His throat tightened and his stomach protested violently as his eyes scanned the headings. His head ached as his mind forced him to remember. It was all coming back now—the coordinates, the job, the haunted plantation…. Why didn't I focus? I was so mad at Sam, and now I've killed him. Dad's never gonna forgive me. He gave me a job and look what I did. He was right, I failed.
"Dean…" Jessie said cautiously as she made her way towards him. Dean jerked at the sound of his name and turned to face her, his hands still clenching the papers. At first Jessie thought he was angry, but his eyes conveyed a deep sorrow that she didn't think was possible."Sammy's blind." Dean gasped at the disclosure. The thought had hit him suddenly as his mind broke the darkness and confusion that had surrounded him for nearly two days.
"What? You never mentioned that before." Jessie couldn't believe it. No wonder he was upset the other day. Well, I am officially the most selfish person on the planet. Dean needed to be here to take care of his brother and I—I just couldn't let him. I made him stay and forget. I made him forget! If something happens to Sam….
"It was my fault. I dropped him. I knew he'd already hit his head and I dropped him." The admission came slowly as Dean began to piece back time, guilt and remorse bringing him to his knees.
"I'm sure it wasn't you're fault, Dean." Jessie was kneeling in front of him now, trying desperately to get through to Dean. They had to save Sam; there was no way he just left on his own.
"My dad..he tried to tell me.." Dean was staring off now, his eyes blank.
"DEAN!" Jessie couldn't help but scream, if she left Dean to his thoughts, Sam could die, and Dean wouldn't be able to live with that. She wouldn't be able to live with that. Her forcefulness worked, Dean snapped out of his comatose state and was now staring back at her.
"Where would Sam go, Dean, where would he go?" She had Dean by the shoulders, her fingers holding tight to his skin. Dean brought his hands into view, revealing the clippings and a picture of the house Jessie knew all too well. "Why would he go to the Toliver house, Dean?" "It's our job." Dean replied as he started to rise. His mind seemed to clear as he uttered that statement. He was focused now. He had to be. Jessie watched as Dean began to go throughout the room grabbing his gear. Dean appeared to be coherent and almost fine now, his brow furrowed in thought. Jessie stared intensely, her eyes widening considerably when she saw him pull a knife out from under one of the pillows. I slept with a mad man.
"Okay, let's go. The rest of the stuff is in the car." The sound of his voice broke her from her thoughts. She smiled when she saw him standing in the doorway with all his gear. He looks like Rambo. Her smile quickly turned to a frown when she realized Dean had every intention of driving.
-------------------------------
Sam silently prayed to God that he'd heard Myrah wrong, but he knew he hadn't. It angered him that he didn't realize it before, he had dealt with the supernatural all his life, and he'd thrown all of his knowledge and instinct away in one moment of weakness. He remembered his dad sending the coordinates and Dean mentioning a haunted plantation on the drive, but then he'd gone blind and that had defined him for the past week. He had paid no attention to Dean or the research his brother was pouring over. He had just told himself that Dean was trying to deprive him of the angry, hate-filled confrontation he'd been craving. Maybe if I had, none of this would've happened. Dean's right. I am a selfish bastard. "Sam" her voice was piercing, no longer holding the soft sweet quality it had mere hours before. She had released him from her grasp, but her presence remained strong. He knew she was near.
"What do you want from me?" Sam asked, trying to conceal his anger at the stranger's betrayal.
"You have a gift Sam. I need it."
"Why?" Sam mentally kicked himself for letting his curiosity get the better of him again. She could kill me and I'm having a conversation. At least it'll buy me—no, Dean some time to get here and save me.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes." Sam spat, his frustration evident. He didn't appreciate Myrah toying with him.
"Well, I guess, since no one's cares what happens to you anyway, I have all day." Sam clenched his jaw upon hearing the laughter in her voice. You're not gonna be laughing when my brother puts a round of rock salt in your ass.
"Have a seat, Sam." Before Sam could respond, he felt something ram into the back of his legs and her icy touch push him into chair.
"You have to promise not to hurt me until you've told me everything!" The words escaped Sam's mouth before he'd even thought about offering a plea. Now I'm the pathetic one. Myrah let out a loud menacing laugh.
"Who do you think you are, Sam Winchester?" Sam tensed as he felt her icy breath brush across his face. "Now, may I begin? And I'd advise you not to interrupt me."
Sam sat there as quieter than he ever had including the one time he had gone to church. He willed himself to focus and try to find anything in Myrah's tale that would make vanquishing her easier. But instead he was left with a tale of a brutal husband and some girl that Myrah used to commune with. She had claimed the girl was the reason she needed Sam. Apparently, Myrah had once had a gift as well, which led to her unfortunate demise and had transferred part of her gift to the girl. The girl, however, proved irresponsible and now leeches off of the small remnant of power that Myrah possesses.
"So how is all of this my problem?" Sam asked pointedly, knowing his question would piss her off. But he had a plan now.
"You have the power, Sam." Sam trembled as Myrah's wintry fingers weaved and twisted his hair, her cold breath passing over the base of his neck.
"Why do you keep saying that?" Play dumb, just keep her talking…
"Even in the brightest places we have shadows. There, within the darkness the secrets are hidden. I've seen your darkness, Sam. I know the power you wield and yet you waste it. Toss it aside, and curse it."
"You're insane, you know that?" Sam threw the words out. The heat radiating from Myrah's anger burned his skin. I have to get out of here. He took a deep breath, and did the only reasonable thing he could of.
He ran.
--------------------
Alright, got a quick update this time. Lemme know what you guys thought, and i changed it so you can review regardless of whether you're a member or not.