CHAPTER FIVE

"We should probably get started tonight," Sam suggested. Dean nodded in agreement even though he was hardly listening. He and Sam had been planning their strategy all day while Spencer and Janelle worked and Julie was fast asleep. The brothers figured the demon within was lying dormant and keeping his host sedated while he devised his next scheme.

"Did you find anything in Dad's journal about Elathan?" Dean queried. Sam shook his head.

"Nothing," he said. "But I think I found an exorcism on the internet that'll work." Dean nodded again, but his eyes were fixed on a picture of all three girls on the wall above the television. Julie was the only brunette, so platinum was actually Janelle's natural hair color. "Dean?" Sam asked, trying to gain back his brother's attention.

"What?" Dean grumbled. "It's a good idea!" He stood from the kitchen table and pulled on his leather jacket, then took it off again once he remembered the odd heat wave Ryan's Bluff was under.

"Where are you going?" Sam squeaked.

"It's almost five," Dean grinned. "Think I'm gonna swing by the diner and see if Janelle wants a ride home." Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Dean ..." he started.

"Relax," Dean interrupted. "It's just a ride home."

"So you're just gonna leave me here alone?" Sam demanded.

"Come on, Sam, you'll be fine," Dean coaxed. "Anything happens, just call my cell."

Dean jumped into the Impala and made his way back to Tiny's Café. His mind was on Janelle, when it should have been on Julie, in the jersey and shorts she'd slept in. Her hair had been messy, tangled, and her eyes were wide and tired, and Dean had to restrain himself from making a pass at her. He was amazingly attracted to her physically, but he knew nothing about her, which meant he couldn't get to know her for fear of eventually hitting on her. What a tangled web we weave, he thought.

"Hell," Dean muttered under his breath, sighing and lulling his head from side-to-side. He was in a tight spot that would last until he and Sam expelled Elathan from Julie's body.

Turning the car onto the main road where the diner was located, Dean immediately spotted Janelle's white hair bobbing in a ponytail. She was talking to some guy, and Dean noted the uncomfortable look on her face as he neared. She must have recognized the Chevy's engine because her eyes briefly met Dean's and relief washed over her face. She straightened up, though, so that the guy she was conversing with wouldn't know she wasn't interested in him.

"He shoots, he scores," Dean whispered, checking his mirrors before turning into the lane of oncoming traffic so he could pull up to the curb next to Janelle. "Hey, babe!" he yelled, grinning brilliantly and brandishing his gorgeous white teeth. "Ready to go?" Janelle smiled and sighed happily.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm ready," she said. The nameless man mumbled a goodbye and hurried away. Janelle leaned into the window, still smiling, and Dean caught a big whiff of her scent he'd simply labeled as pretty. "Thanks," she said.

"No problem," Dean replied.

"What are you doing here? Is Julie okay?" Janelle demanded an answer.

"Julie's fine," Dean assured her. "Just thought you could use a ride home." Janelle smirked.

"Oh ... thanks." She sauntered around the front of the Impala, and Dean cleared his throat as he willed away his physical excitement.

"Oh, God," he breathed, watching every step she took as she put on her sunglasses. In her white T-shirt and cut-off shorts, only two words came to Dean's mind: Daisy Duke.

"I love this car," Janelle commented truthfully, as she climbed into the passenger seat. It had been so long since Dean had had someone other than Sam sitting next to him and he was almost unsure of how to act.

"Yeah," he lamely agreed, "She gets me where I need to go." The stares from the locals flared up again, but it didn't seem to bother Janelle as she moved to get comfortable. "Wish I got stared at by women like this everyday," Dean joked. Janelle glanced at him and smiled beautifully.

"They're not staring at you," she said, "I think it's the car." Dean chuckled, glancing sideways at her. "I'm serious. All they have around here are Plymouths, Hondas, and Gremlins." She was rolling down the window and her left foot came off the floorboard as she utilized all her strength with the handle. Dean's jaw dropped, his eyes glued to her perfect and tan legs. He'd always been a leg man.

"I've been meaning to get that fixed," he said, referring to the window handle.

"Have you named her yet?" Janelle asked, ignoring his comment. Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "The car."

"Oh, no," Dean said. Janelle's green eyes narrowed and she turned to face him.

"You really should name her," she suggested. "She wants a name."

"What do you mean?" Dean wondered.

"I'm not weird," Janelle said. Dean glanced at her and shook his head.

"Darlin', in my line of work, nothing is weird," he said. Janelle nodded.

"Well, sometimes ... I ... know what cars are ... are thinking and what they're feeling. Kind of like those dog psychics or something." Dean nodded, allowing this new information to marinate in his mind.

"Well, what do you think I should name her, then?" he inquired. "What would she like?" Janelle smiled happily, so relieved Dean didn't think she was some kind of freak.

"I think she likes Priscilla," she said, after allowing her hands a few moments to glide across the leather seats, the dashboard, and the door handle.

"Priscilla," Dean repeated, trying it on for size. He rather liked the name even if it did remind him of Elvis Presley, whose music he wasn't quite fond of. "I could do that," he finally agreed. Janelle smiled gratefully.

"Thank you for not making fun of me," she said. Dean glanced at her, switching hands on the wheel.

"When you're a freak like me, there's no such thing as making fun of someone," he explained. Janelle nodded.

"What exactly is your line of work?" she questioned. "I mean, John said something about ghost hunting ..?" Dean took a deep breath and smiled awkwardly.

"That's ... a pretty long story," he replied. Before he could begin to explain the pretty long story, his cell phone rang obnoxiously through the pocket of his jeans. Lifting his hips, he dug into the pocket to retrieve the phone. This action did not go unnoticed by Janelle, whose wandering eyes were beginning to cause her problems.

"A ghost hunter's work is never done," she commented, as Dean flipped the phone open with his thumb.

"Yeah, this is Dean," he answered, ignoring Janelle's remark.

"I think you should get back here now," Sam's frightened voice came over the phone. "Like, right now." The other-worldly shriek of a possessed woman slithered through the cell phone, and Dean tried in vain to cover the speaker, but Janelle could still hear it.

"What's happening?" she demanded, again hating herself for forgetting her sister's terrible condition and relatively enjoying her time with Dean away from her home.

"We're on our way," Dean said before snapping the phone shut. He glanced at Janelle. "I think Julie's awake."