Chapter 3: Jump for Jenny

"I've never slept in a four-poster bed before." El plumped the pillows behind her back. "We need to take a vacation more often."

Peter perused the list of movies available on TV, attempting to decide which one El would like most. "How about American Wedding?" It wasn't his kind of movie, but this was supposed to be a vacation for her too, despite the camp . . . and now the vampires. Peter consoled himself there had been no mention of witches, but how long would the reprieve last?

El leaned over to scan the schedule. She was wearing a black lace peignoir that Peter hadn't seen before. Any movie watching would need several interruptions. "Ocean's Twelve is on. Let's watch that."

"A heist movie? You and Neal aren't planning anything I hope?"

"Could be fun," she said with a mischievous smile. "This movie has strong roles for women. Julia Roberts and Catherine Zeta-Jones are two of my favorite actresses. They'll serve as excellent reminders for you. I detected a strong urge on your part to exclude me from the discussion with the Winchesters."

Peter winced. "Guilty as charged."

"If Dean and Sam are involved, it can't be an FBI case, so there's no reason for secrecy. If Chloe can handle it, so can I."

"Tough girl are you?" He slipped an arm around her. "I promise. Any vampires or witches I hear about, I'll let you know."

"Good," she said, snuggling next to him. "I'm glad Sam agreed to bunk at the observatory. Neal will have a great time with him and Travis for company."

"Now that you've met the brothers, what do you think of them?"

"Based on your description, I expected them to be wild men. Instead they were quite polite. Dean doesn't look much like the man I saw in those photos of Buttonwood."

Peter groaned. "You don't really want to bring those up again, do you?"

She laughed. "I expect Dean is as embarrassed as you are. Mozzie, on the other hand, probably wears his period of curse-instigated dorkyness as a badge of honor. Do you know anything about Dean and Sam's family?"

"I investigated them thoroughly during that regrettable first encounter in New Jersey. Their mother passed away when Sam was less than a year old."

Her expression turned serious. "I'm so sorry. Dean's only a few years older. Their childhood must have been difficult."

He nodded. "Their father was also a hunter. The Bureau file on him reads like those of his sons. He was suspected of numerous crimes and arrested on several occasions, but was never convicted of anything."

"You used the past tense."

"He died last year. Dean had to step in to take care of Sam even though he's only four years older. Their father trained both of them to be hunters. It's the only life Dean's ever known."

"I noticed them walk into the room. I thought they looked ill at ease. I wonder how much of it was because of Father's Day. It can't be an easy holiday for them." El rested her head on Peter's shoulder. "How about you? Did you enjoy Father's Day?"

"Talking with my dad this morning, spending the day with you and Neal— it's been great, and if I have my way, it will finish even better."

She stroked his ear with her finger. "That's a promise."

"But as for me being a dad, that doesn't sound right. Look at the two rascals I wound up being a father figure to. I'm too old to be Satchmo's dad and too young to be Neal's. Although, I must confess sometimes the two seem a lot alike."

"Then you don't want to take on Dean and Sam, too?"

He leaned back to stare at her. "You're teasing, right?"

She shrugged. "Now that Neal's turned out so well, I thought you might be looking for another challenge." She broke into a laugh, tapping his nose. "Of course, I'm teasing."

"That's a relief. You shouldn't worry about Dean and Sam. They've got a friend named Bobby who acts a little like a surrogate dad. I've never met him and don't know his last name. Just as well. The file on him is undoubtedly at least as extensive as Dean and Sam's."

"Still, you better watch yourself. I've noticed how young rogues are attracted to you. It must be because they realize what a great Papa Bear you make."

"Is that so, Mama Bear?" He reached for the remote and turned off the TV. The movie could wait.

#

Dean pulled up in front of the observatory and turned off the ignition. "Can you believe the look on Peter's face when we walked into the dining room?" He broke into a laugh. "He was scanning every corner of the room for vamps."

Sam frowned. "We shouldn't have intruded on their dinner. They didn't need to know about why we're here."

"I bet we were the highlight of their evening," Dean retorted, dismissing Sammy's concern. "They're probably still talking about us. And the pie was heaven."

Dean spent a moment studying the building. As opposed to sleeping in a car, it looked like a palace. Not that it compared with what Dean had to look forward to. After dropping Sam off, he'd go back to Chloe and her four-poster bed. Would Sam even have a TV? Dean could rationalize his way out of feeling guilty by thinking that some alone time was just what Sam needed. It would encourage him to look for some of those college chicks Chloe had mentioned. Ever since his girlfriend's death, Sam had been acting like a monk, well, a warrior monk. That needed to change.

"I was surprised you didn't protest more about helping out at camp," Sam said, folding up the map. "What gives?"

"I figure we owe them. Mozzie's providing us with fake IDs, and I suspect at least some of them are Neal's handiwork. Besides, I knew you wanted to agree. After all these years, you're finally getting to go to camp."

Sammy didn't snap back with a quip of his own, but slouched deeper in his seat, brooding about something.

"You all right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, just . . ." Sam shrugged. "Forget it."

"It's not staying here, is it?" Dean said, ignoring the request. "You know if you get homesick, you can give me a call and I'll pick you up."

Sam scowled and reached for the door handle. "I'm outta here."

"Hey, sit back down. Seriously, what is it? You've been moping during the entire drive out here."

"It's Father's Day," Sam admitted. "I was trying not to let it get to me, but talking with Peter and Neal . . ." He fell silent.

Dean kicked himself for not having picked up on it earlier. Sam's relationship with their father had been difficult. He'd rebelled on more than one occasion against the life they led. But when Dad died, Sam took on an eighteen-wheeler's load of guilt for being so hard-headed. He'd been lugging it around ever since.

Sam stared moodily out the side window. "It's not like we celebrated many Father's Days with him." He stopped to consider. "Did we celebrate any?"

"Sure," Dean said automatically. "We must have."

"Name one."

Dean racked his brain. Damn. Was Sam right?

"I can remember lots of Father's Days wishing he were around so we could do something. Maybe give him a tie."

"Get real, dude. When did Dad ever wear a tie? Even when he impersonated an FBI agent, the only concession he made was to put a jacket on."

"I'm not trying to heap on him," Sam protested. "I miss him. Despite all the fights we had, I always knew in the back of my mind he was there for us. And now he's not."

"At least we had a dad when we were growing up. So what if most of the time he was off fighting demons, werewolves, or whatever crap was tossed his way? From what Chloe said, Neal didn't even have that."

"Yeah, and Bobby was there for us when Dad wasn't." Sam turned to look at him. "When I was little, I think I saw more of him than Dad."

Dean chuckled. "We used to play catch. He taught me how to fish."

"We should give him a call," Sam declared. "It's Father's Day. We should thank him."

Dean stared at him. Was he serious? He had that stubborn expression on his face Dean knew all too well. He'd never told Sam, but it was the spitting image of the way Dad looked when he dug in his heels.

Maybe Sam was right. It might help him cope. "All right. Let's do it."

Sam pulled out his cell phone. When Bobby answered, he put the phone on speaker and nodded to Dean to say something.

Dean cleared his throat. "Well, we're just sitting around, and it's Father's Day, and . . ."

When his words trailed off, Sam jumped in. "And we wanted to wish you a Happy Father's Day."

"Balls. Which one of you idjits is dying? Or are you both in the hospital?"

"We're fine, honest," Sam blurted, looking flustered.

"You're not possessed?"

Dean jumped in to salvage the situation. "No, we're good." He glared at Sam. They never called unless they were in trouble. Sam should have known this would be Bobby's reaction. "We just wanted to say thanks for . . . you know." Damn this was awkward.

"Well, come have a beer with me."

"South Dakota's a little far," Dean pointed out mildly, stating the obvious.

"I'm not in South Dakota anymore. The Northeast has turned into such a hotbed, I figured I might as well join you two knuckleheads and keep you out of trouble. Rufus has a place in Morristown. It's about an hour away from where you are. I arrived here yesterday. It's a prime location—right next to a junkyard. You should come by tomorrow. I'll try to make it worth the trip."

When Bobby issued an invitation, it could only mean one thing. Dean glanced over at Sam and smiled. For a gift, cornering a demon beat a necktie hands down.

#

Sam got out of the car and grabbed his bag from the back seat. He wasn't surprised when Dean offered to come inside. Claiming he was curious about the layout was just an excuse. Dean had never gone to camp either.

Not that Dean ever expressed a desire to go. Not like he had. When Sam told Dean about the other kids heading off for camp, Dean countered that their experiences wouldn't be nearly as exciting as traveling cross-country with their dad. But that was Dean's usual attitude—he was always so positive. When Sam wanted a dog, Dean stole a plastic model of one and expected Sam would be thrilled. Sam pretended to be delighted with the toy so he wouldn't hurt his brother's feelings.

Now, years later, Sam was finally going to camp. Would a dog be in his future too?

The door opened onto a large meeting room. Neal, Mozzie, and Janet were sprawled in chairs along with a tall guy about Dean's age. That was probably Travis.

They jumped up to greet them. Janet gave both Dean and him an effusive hug. Had she designated herself as den mother to the group?

Sam noticed Mozzie slip something—probably the fake IDs—into Dean's pocket during the flurry of introductions.

A yellow Lab bounded over to meet Sam and nuzzled his knee. "This is Satchmo," Neal explained as Sam stroked him. "Peter and El lent him to us. He's our camp mascot for the duration." Astro camp was improving by the minute.

Neal had filled the others in about the vampire gathering, but they pressed for details. Mozzie had never heard of an anistemi but promised to research the term. From the way he and Neal talked, Mozzie was as much a research hound as Bobby.

Sam was impressed by Travis. He took the news very calmly for somebody who'd supposedly never been around demons. Or had he? He had a quiet, serious attitude that masked his thoughts on the subject.

Mozzie, on the other hand, was the opposite. He seemed to be on a permanent high. "An anistemi may be related to the discovery I made. I've stumbled upon a surprisingly rich deposit of cave slime. Unfortunately, I didn't bring along my testing equipment but I've collected samples."

"What are you suggesting?" Dean asked skeptically. "That vampires are interested in drool?"

Mozzie shook his head vehemently. "Of course not. The deposits may indicate extraterrestrials. I've long been a proponent of an off-world origin for vampires. This cave could be their portal."

"Let's save the cave for another time," Neal suggested diplomatically. When Mozzie grumbled, he added, "You've been studying the Columbia tunnel residue for months but haven't found any substantiating evidence."

"That's irrelevant. My work with SETI is just beginning to bear fruit."

Dean frowned. "You're with the folks searching for extraterrestrial life?" Sam knew what he was thinking. Would they soon be deluged by phony reports of crop circles?

"We both are," Travis clarified unexpectedly. "We're on the working committee at Columbia University."

"Do you support Mozzie's views?" Sam asked. Travis had a lot of gravitas about him. If he felt aliens created the slime, there might be something to Mozzie's theory, after all.

Travis hesitated. "The evidence to date is inconclusive."

Dean grinned as he stood up. "Have fun at camp, Sammy. I'm heading out. See ya in the morning."

After Dean left, the group took Sam on a tour of the place. He was pleasantly surprised at how well stocked the fridge was. There was a microwave and even a stove. Satchmo trotted along for the tour. After the initial obligatory hand-sniffing and praise, he'd welcomed Sam into his pack.

"Satchmo can tell you like him," Neal commented. "Did you ever own a dog?"

"Once, briefly." Sam didn't go into the details as he stroked the Lab. It was a sensitive subject. He'd adopted Bones when he ran away as a teen. For two weeks, he and Bones lived on junk food till Dean found them. Bones was put in a shelter. Although Sam no longer had a dog, he still mainly survived on junk food. Life sucked sometimes. "Did you?"

"No. I wanted one but it didn't work out." Raising his voice, he asked, "Who's been to camp before?" Only Janet and Travis replied in the affirmative. "Then you know what we're supposed to do. Sing around the campfire? Roast marshmallows?"

"Ghost stories," Travis said promptly. "It wouldn't be camp without a few chills in the night."

"I can't wait to hear Sam's tales," Janet said, nudging her turquoise-rimmed glasses higher on her nose. "He's probably encountered real ones." The others looked at him eagerly but Sam had no intention of talking about the terrifying ghosts he and Dean had faced. They might not ever get to sleep.

"Have you heard of the Jenny Jump ghost?" Travis asked.

"No, but I need to," Neal said, his face lighting up at the thought. Neal was a little older than Sam, but he still seemed like a kid. It was probably because he hadn't seen the demons Sam had. When you're a hunter you have to grow up fast.

Mozzie insisted they make themselves comfortable first. "You can't tell ghost stories while standing under bright lights," he declared. "We'd insult any latent apparitions. Ambiance, people!" He got out a small LED lantern for illumination before turning off the lights. The lantern had been designed for astronomy use and had a red filter.

Travis got beers for himself and Sam. Mozzie, Janet, and Neal helped themselves to glasses of wine. Everyone sprawled on the lower bunk beds. Sam called Satchmo over to sit next to him.

Travis placed the red lantern in front of him. "In the 1700s, a little girl named Jenny lived with her father in what's now the park. Once she and her father were collecting berries on a steep hillside. A man sprang out from the bushes and began chasing her. Jenny ran to a rock ledge and screamed to her father below to come save her. He knew he couldn't reach her in time and shouted, 'Jump, Jenny, jump!' He thought he'd be able to catch her."

"But he didn't," Janet prompted

He shook his head. "She jumped, but her father tripped on a rock and couldn't get to her in time. Afterward, the forest was named in her honor. Park visitors occasionally report having seen a young girl in pioneer clothes wandering in the forest."

Janet turned to face Sam. "Could there actually be a ghost?"

He shrugged. "It's possible. Have there been any reports of her causing people to jump off rock ledges?"

"Not to my knowledge," Travis said.

"Then I think you're safe. But I have a question for you. What's the story behind the road that runs parallel to the park—Shades of Death Road?"

"Ah, that's an interesting case," Mozzie said. He took the red lantern from Travis and held it close to his face. It caused the shadows from his glasses to look like satanic eyebrows. His entire face glowed red.

"There are many theories, none of them proven," Mozzie continued. "Some talk of highwaymen. Others of murders. At night the road is dangerous. Its twists and turns can quickly become deadly for the incautious driver. There have been fatalities. Are supernatural forces are work? Now that the experts are here, I look forward to their findings."

"And then there's Ghost Lake," Neal added, reaching for the lantern. "Peter told me about it on the way up. It acquired its name from the wraithlike mists that rise from its surface. Visitors have claimed to see ghosts of murder victims in the woods surrounding the lake. They believe the ghosts live in the lake during the day. No reports of any nocnitsas . . . yet."

"Or will-o'-wisps," Janet added. "Believe me, I checked when I arrived. I also warned Chloe not to practice any of her spells on the shores of the lake."

Neal let out a low moan. "She's not still dabbling in the occult, is she?"

"She's collecting spells for her novel," Janet admitted, "but she promised Dean to not experiment with any of them. Lately she's more into potions."

Sam didn't say anything but wondered if Dean knew about it. Potions could be every bit as dangerous as spells.

"I find potions a fascinating subject," Mozzie confessed. "If my slime research didn't take up so much of my time, I'd—"

"No you wouldn't," Neal countered, jumping in. "You agreed not to experiment with drugs anymore, remember?"

"No, I didn't. In the cause of science, I can guarantee no such restrictions. Besides, potions don't really count."

"Mozzie's teasing," Travis said calmly. "He's well aware that the rules of our SETI committee are very strict. No experimentation with drugs or potions. We have enough problems about not being taken seriously."

"Your turn," Neal said, handing the lantern to Sam. "I'd like a story with a demon."

The demons they met were all worse than nightmares. Sam's initial inclination was to refuse. But it was camp, and they were all looking at him expectantly. "Have you ever heard of a wendigo?"

Mozzie's eyes widened. "No, but it sounds scary. Please continue."

Sam placed the lantern in front of him and Satchmo. In a low voice, he said, "The ghastly tale began when a person disappeared from a camping trip."

Notes: A wendigo is an evil spirit in Algonquian folklore. Dean and Sam encountered one in the canon episode "Wendigo" (Season 1, Episode 2). I was inspired by Fairy Cave, an actual cave at the park, for the cave Mozzie found. The tales about the ghost Jenny, Shades of Death Road, and Ghost Lake are real as well.