CHAPTER SIX

"Sam!" Dean called, as he and Janelle ran into the house. Sam came down the stairs and put a finger to his lips.

"She's passed out," he sighed. Janelle's jaw dropped as she inspected Sam's exterior. His blue T-shirt was stretched and hanging off his shoulder, his hair was tousled and tangled, and there was a rather deep cut over his right eye.

"What happened?" Dean asked. Sam let out a deep, exhausted breath, stepping off the last stair.

"Is Julie okay?" Janelle inquired. "Are you okay?"

"Julie's fine," he replied. "I untied her so she could go to the bathroom. It wasn't exactly my best career move to date."

"Well, you can relax now, little brother," Dean smiled brilliantly, holding his arms out. "I'm here." He patted Sam's shoulder before jogging up the staircase. Janelle watched him go, an estranged look on her face, and then turned to Sam.

"Can I clean your cut?" she asked, somewhat shyly. When Sam gave her a confusing stare, she reached up and touched the blood that was now trickling down the side of his face.

"That explains the headache then," Sam dryly joked, and Janelle cracked a smile. She led him into the bathroom where he sat on the toilet.

"How did it happen?" she asked quietly. Her sister's condition was the only thing on her mind.

Sam watched as she gathered rubbing alcohol, a box of Bandaids, some cotton balls, and a washcloth, and he hesitated giving a reply. He didn't want to tell her that Julie, or the demon inside of Julie, had bashed him over the head with a clock radio and then tried to jump out of the second story window.

"Just a little ... misunderstanding," he lied, for lack of a better phrase. It was quite evident that Janelle knew he was lying, but for that she was thankful. Deep down, she really didn't care to know what went on in Julie's bedroom, at least not until she was freed of whatever was possessing her.

"This is going to sting a little," she informed Sam, after cleaning his face and the wound. She dropped some alcohol onto a cotton ball and seemed to falter.

"That's all right," Sam grinned comfortingly. "I've been through worse." A fire, a homicidal woman in white, a wendigo, a lake ghost, a phantom, Bloody Mary, a shape-shifter who'd tried to kill him and a good friend all the while looking like his big brother, the fucking Hook Man, vengeful bugs and countless other horrors he chose not to remember.

Janelle dabbed the alcohol over the cut, causing Sam's skin to sting just as she'd warned, and then she covered it with a Bandaid.

"That's so weird," she muttered to herself, gazing at the box of Bandaids for a moment before replacing it back in the medicine cabinet.

"What?" Sam asked.

"I haven't used a Bandaid on a grown person since Jenna was visiting from college and cut her finger opening a can of tuna." Sam smiled after she did. "Funny how you remember those things, huh?" Sam nodded sympathetically.

"I'm sorry about all of this," he said, and Janelle looked down at him. "I wish I could tell you it'll be over soon, but …" She put up a hand and smiled.

"It's all right," she said. "You're here to help and that's all that matters." Sam stood up to a towering height over Janelle, and she giggled. "You've got to be hungry."

"Actually …" He felt awkward saying yes, but he was hungry as he hadn't eaten anything all day and he wasn't comfortable just going through another family's cabinets and refrigerator even though Spencer had given he and Dean the okay to do so.

"Come on, I'll fix you something," Janelle said, and Sam followed her into the kitchen. "I'm not a master chef or anything, but my grilled cheese sandwiches are the best in five counties." Sam breathed a laugh.

"Grilled cheese sounds great."

Once the sandwiches were cooking and Janelle was sitting in front of Sam, he decided to ask her the question he'd been wondering about since the dream he'd had the night before. He was prepared for the awkwardness of her answer, but he had to know.

"Do you have any kids?" he asked. Janelle looked at him.

"Nope," she sighed politely, smiling faintly. There was a small light at the end of Sam's dark tunnel.

"Do either of your sisters have kids?" he went on. She shook her head.

"Nope. None of us are married and, as far as I know, Jenna and Julie aren't seeing anybody." Sam nodded, sighing unknowingly. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," he lied. "Just … trying to make conversation that isn't centered around …"

"Ah," Janelle grinned, and she seemed to look deep into his brown eyes. He felt as if he were being probed for secret thoughts, secret feelings, even secret knowledge. Her emerald gaze locked with his for several seconds until he found the will to break it.

"I didn't mean to get personal," he said. Janelle shrugged, returning to the stove to flip the sandwiches before they burned.

"You're sweet, Sam," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. He smiled a thank you. "And awfully pretty."

The sandwiches were finished in no time and she presented them to him on a plate along with his requested glass of Coke. When she began to fix two more sandwiches, Sam assumed she was making them for herself, but when they were ready to be eaten, she was heading out of the kitchen.

"I'm gonna take these to your brother," she said.

"You're not eating?" Sam asked, but she didn't answer as she walked through the living room and up the stairs. Neither seemed to realize that it probably wasn't a good idea for her to see the inside of Julie's room after the clock radio incident.

Janelle knocked on the door before turning the knob and pushing it opened.

"Hey …" Dean started, thinking he was speaking to Sam. He turned and, upon seeing Janelle, jumped out of the rocking chair and ran toward the door, tripping several times on the way. "Whoa, hey!" he grinned, pushing her out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"Was that …?" Janelle began, pointing her finger.

"No," Dean immediately denied, knowing she was referring to the broken clock radio on the floor with Sam's blood splattered on it. "Hey! Grilled cheese! My favorite."

"Yeah," Janelle breathed, still looking in the direction of the clock radio even though she could no longer see it. "I thought you … might be hungry." He took the plate from her and smiled. "Is everything okay in there?" she questioned.

"Uh huh," Dean replied, biting his bottom lip nervously. The house phone began to ring and Dean sighed happily. "You better get that," he said. Janelle reluctantly tore her eyes from her sister's bedroom door and jogged downstairs toward the phone in the living room. "Damn it," Dean whispered. "Sam!"

"What?" Sam replied with a mouthful of grilled cheese. Then it dawned on him and he winced.

"I know you're down there, little brother! You gotta come up here sometime!"

Dean looked around at Julie's room as he sat in the rocking chair, eating Janelle's fabulous grilled cheese sandwiches. He wondered what Sam's story would be when he got the chance to talk to his brother about the bump on his head.

Julie was again restrained to the bed, but completely knocked out cold. Her face was stained with tears and her hair was nothing but knots. She looked terrible; she looked like someone possessed. But the room was worse off. The curtains had been shredded and pulled from the window, the clock radio lay in pieces on the floor decorated with Sam's blood, and the headboard of Julie's bed had dents and scratches in it. Dean didn't need to ask where they had come from.

But tonight was the night. They were going to expel Elathan from Julie once and for all. And hopefully without incident.