Title: More Than Just Apple
Word Count: 11,468
Summary: Jess could have done without the mildly cryptic phone call, but at least she and Dean have some answers now. They just can't let it distract them from the murderous bag of straw.
Jess was fairly sure she was about to die. Like for real die. Though ever since she'd followed Dean on his quest to rid the world of evil she'd thought she was about to die at least five times a week. Not counting weekends and after business hours.
Regardless of being confronted with her mortality more in a week than the past twenty-two years of her life she'd never actually thought she'd die like this. On her back in a haunted insane asylum in the evil lair of a crazy shrink with a chest full of rock salt. Much less she never thought she'd die from a bullet to the head with Dean behind the trigger.
"Okay, seriously, Dean. You really don't want to do this."
She gritted her teeth and tried to scoot backward across the gross slimy floor, the bits and pieces of torn up mildewy crumbling sheetrock catching on her every move. Her pockmarked chest was beading with blood and stung like a son of a bitch. Now she really knew just how much getting salt literally rubbed in an open wound sucked.
A lot. It sucked a lot if anyone was wondering.
Next time they decided to hunt a crazy doctor that liked to turn people into nose bleeding dicks with homicidal anger management issues she was so wearing a bulletproof vest. It shouldn't be too hard to find one of those. Dean seemed to have no problem stocking up his trunk armory with unregistered guns. One girl-sized bulletproof vest shouldn't be a problem at all.
"Oh you have no idea how much I want to do this." Dean gave her this really disturbing half smirk half maniacal baring of teeth. "Do know how annoying it is to watch you eat French fries? Could you get any slower? I mean who the hell eats one freaking French fry a minute?"
Jess was pretty sure she was getting stabbed in the kidney by a rusty nail. She spared a moment from her indignation to be thankful she was up on all her shots.
"Well excuse me if I happen to like savoring deep fried greasy potatoes." Jess tried to scowl at him as the panicked thoughts racing of her mind worked to find a way out of this. "At least I don't make orgasm noises every time I eat a crappy diner burger."
"Hey! Don't besmirch diner burgers. They're a gift from the gods."
It was almost funny how insulted he got even through the spirit induced rage. Almost funny if you didn't pay any attention to the steady stream of blood dripping from his nose and smearing all down his lips and chin.
The sight reminded her of the eyeball bleeding Bloody Mary was so fond of. Jess wondered if maybe they were gonna eventually accrue some kind of permanent sinus damage if these freaking ghosts kept making them bleed out of their facial orifices.
Dean was still stalking menacingly toward her and Jess couldn't help the little hysterical giggle at her line of thought. Really it was amazing the kind of stuff your brain came up with when you were in imminent danger of being shot by your supernatural hunting partner.
"For real, Dean. You're gonna feel really bad about this later if you shoot me. I mean, come on! We're partners. You don't shoot your partner in the head because a dead mad scientist told you to. That's like the opposite of the bro code!"
Dean grinned that creepy grin at her again, his teeth stained with blood. "Good thing you're not a guy then isn't it." He pulled the hammer back on his Colt with an ominous click.
"Fuck." Jess's heart was pounding and she grimaced in regret. "Sorry about this."
Dean was looming over her, his feet were planted on either side of her left leg and he was in just the right spot. She jerked her leg up without warning and kicked him directly in the nuts.
The look of horrified shock on his face was totally worth the sharp pain of that rusty nail stabbing her in the back. The agonized falsetto whimper was just the icing on the cake. Jess really wanted to gloat a little over the fact that it was the first time ever she'd gotten one over on him in a fight. Sure it was a dirty shot and they were in the middle of a life or death situation with an insane ghost controlling one of them so it wasn't really a fair fight, but hey. She'll take what she can get.
Victory over Dean regardless, Jess still really had to burn those bones because scary mad scientist ghost had just flickered into being about five feet away and he looked a little pissed.
Dean had dropped his gun to clutch at his crotch as he shakily collapsed to his knees. Jess had to scurry out of range before he keeled over and trapped her right leg beneath him. Possessed by a rage ghost and cradling his balls or not he was still around two hundred pounds of muscle. Jess highly doubted she'd be able to budge him even without the malevolent spirit flickering angrily toward her.
Jess lunged toward their discarded duffle of salt and lighter fluid then gave a startled yelp when her ankle was gripped in an icy fist and she was yanked backward. She slid across the slimy floor and she had a fleeting thought to how absolutely disgusting that was before the spirit flipped her over on her back again and started dragging her closer.
Clinching her jaw she kicked out and, surprisingly, actually shook off the spirit's hold. She didn't waste a second more. Scrabbling for the duffle again she pulled it toward her and grabbed for the tube of salt conveniently sitting on top. Holding it in a white knuckled grip Jess darted her eyes around frantically for any sign of where the insane patients could have stashed their tormentor.
Her other hand just barely got a hold of a bottle of lighter fluid when the ghost of Dr. Ellicot grabbed her by the back of her shirt and flung her across the room.
"Yipe!"
The sound of the seams popping on her five dollar Wall-Mart t-shirt was swallowed up by the painful thud of her landing on the concrete floor and skidding a few good feet on impact. She collided with a beat up storage cabinet, the hinges in its door caved in with her weight.
The door was dislodged and the distinctive stench of wrinkly corpse hit her nose about the same time she rolled back onto her stomach. Jess didn't even check to make sure it was the right corpse she just scrambled up on her knees and dumped the entire container of salt on the gray skeletal body and squirted enough lighter fluid on top to start a bonfire. She sacrificed the beat up bic lighter she'd pocketed from the Impala's glovebox and nearly lost her eyebrows in the fire ball that erupted from Ellicot's mummified remains.
Behind her Ellicot screeched and she turned just in time to see him collapse in a pile of dust.
Blowing out a relieved breath she plopped back onto her butt and just panted until her heart slowed down.
A groan caught her attention and she watched unsympathetically as Dean painfully tried to uncurl from his protective fetal position.
"Aw, Jessie. Did you have to go for the nuts?" He sounded a little pre-pubescent.
Jess scoffed. "I had to keep you from turning my birthmark to a bullet hole somehow."
"Yeah, but the nuts? That's just cruel." One hand still cradling his manly bits, Dean used the other to push himself upright. The process looked painful.
"Tell that to my boobs. My cleavage will probably never be the same."
He gave a strained chuckled. "Touche. Does this mean we're even then?"
Rolling her eyes at just how hopeful he sounded, Jess nodded and used the still burning corpse filled storage cabinet to lever herself to standing.
"Yeah, we're even." She flashed him a smirk. "Besides I had to roast your naked lady lighter. You know the one with the heat sensitive disappearing bikini. That was a bonus."
"Man," Dean grumbled as Jess grabbed his hand and ungracefully tugged him to his feet. "I liked that lighter."
She smirked again and wrapped his arm around her shoulders keeping him from trying to curl up over his aching balls again. They limped and stumbled to the hole in the secret evil lab's secret entrance, Jess snatching up their duffle on the way.
"Come on. We've got an idiot boy and his trigger happy girlfriend to escort back to their car."
They were both walking wounded and exhausted despite the usual rush of a hunt well done. Jess was pretty sure they were going to forego the usual celebratory strip club in favor of a bottle of cheap whisky in their motel room and a couple of strategically placed ice-bags.
She wasn't too beat up about it though. It was Dean's turn to pick the club and washing off fruity scented body glitter was a pain in the ass.
By the time they finished another ghost hunt and an infestation of bundimums in a new housing development, Jess's boobs were healed up and Dean had stopped walking around even more bowlegged than normal. Unfortunately, Jess lost her favorite pair of boots to a loogy of bundimum acid and Dean got whacked on the head by an angry dead eighty year old man's cane.
It was ass o'clock in the morning, they were both hungover, and smelled like sweaty fireman stripper (it was Jess's turn to pick) when Dean's cell started blaring the grating mullet rock song of the week.
"Dean," Jess groaned, the miniature dwarfs in her skull chipping away at her brain. "Dean, your phone."
He just grunted, spread eagle across his bed not a muscle moved from his face down.
"Dean, your phone's ringing." She tried rolling over just to gag and swallow a little tequila flavored throw up in the back of her throat.
There was a snort and mumble of, "Please, not the g-string," but Dean didn't budge an inch.
"Fuck." Jess fought her gag reflex and painfully reached over fumbling for the phone flipping it open and pressing it to her ear. Well, the vicinity of her ear. Her aim was kind of off when she was this hungover.
"'Lo?"
She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hello?"
There was a long pause where all she could hear was muffled road noise, heavy breathing, her pounding head, and her roiling stomach. "You gonna say something, Mr. Heavy Breather, or are you gonna keep being creepy?"
This time she got a hitch and the static crackle of more breathing. She gritted her teeth in frustration.
"Dude, I am hungover, I smell like sweaty muscly stripper, and I fell asleep in my bra. You better have a damn good reason for calling or I'm coming through the phone to kick your ass."
Finally she got a response.
"You're Jessica, right?" The voice was deep and rough and brought to mind an image of a man rough and big to match.
She scowled because the last time someone called already knowing her name she almost got strangled by a lamp and Dean was emotionally traumatized.
"Who the hell is this?"
The man on the other side answered after a long beat. "I'm John Winchester."
Bolting up right her suppressed urge to vomit and agonizing headache were temporarily forgotten. "John Winchester!?"
Dean's head shot up from where he was being smothered by his pillow, his eyes widened, and his entire body tensed. He jumped up from the mattress before Jess could blink in surprise and practically tackled her.
"Gah!" Dean's body impacted with hers and she lost her grip on the phone as two hundred pounds of ripe hunter landed on top of her. The air was knocked out of her lungs and she almost got clotheslined as Dean scrambled for the phone.
"Dad!" He knocked himself in the eye in his haste to bring the phone to his head.
Jess squeaked and shoved at Dean's chest trying to get his heavy ass off her so she could breathe. "Off! Off! Off!"
Apparently he was listening through his shock because he followed the direction of one of her shoves and rolled off to the left. His knee collided sharply with her inner thigh, but Jess ignored it in favor of not suffocating.
"Dad, where are you?" Dean shouted into the phone. "What's going on? Where have you been?"
"Dean, you're going to have to trust me." John's deep voice was clear to Jess even without being on speakerphone.
"What?" Dean frowned in confusion. "Dad, what are you-"
"I've been hunting it, Dean."
He choked on a sharp inhale and Jess frowned, propping herself up on her elbows to watch him.
"It's a demon, Dean. The thing that killed your mother and-" the man's heavy swallow was clear through the line and his next words were strained with grief. "And Sam."
Dean made a high sound in the back of his throat and a cold weight hit Jess's stomach.
"A demon?"
"Yeah," John confirmed grimly. "I'm closing in on it. I'm so close."
"Dad, you gotta let us help. You can't do this by yourself. Tell us where you are. We can help." Dean sounded desperate. He was almost begging. Jess's heart was suddenly pounding.
A demon. A demon pinned her to the ceiling and burned up their selfless, beloved Sam. A demon killed beautiful, fierce Mary Winchester. A demon that took single minded, terrifying John Winchester twenty-two years to track down.
Jess didn't even have to ask. It was deadly obvious that this demon was in a class all its own. Far above her and Dean's little airplane saboteur.
"You can't help me, Dean," John growled through the line. "You and Jessica stay far away from this. Stop looking for me and stop trying to contact me. I don't want either of you anywhere near this."
"Bullshit, Dad! We have just as much a stake in killing this thing as you do," Dean snarled into the receiver.
Jess's eyes widened. From what she'd gleaned from John's journal and the few kernels Dean let drop, she put together that John Winchester was the kind of man that demanded respect and obedience. She'd figured out that Sam had been the rebellious one and Dean had been the obedient son, the peace keeper, the perfect soldier in his father's quest of revenge.
She was surprised to hear Dean actually cuss at his father much less refuse a direct order. Judging by the tense silence over the line, John was just as shocked.
A tense moment later, John seemed to gather his thoughts.
"You're right. You and Jessica have a right to kill the thing that took our family from us, as well."
John's words stalled out whatever Dean would have said after his outburst. His whole life John Winchester's word was law. His dad had never once admitted that he might be wrong. Hell, he'd been run off with a shot-gun over a slight differing of opinion with Bobby Singer. Dean had to pick the lead pellets out of Dad's ass for him. They'd both been traumatize and agreed to never speak of it again.
"You gotta let us help you, Dad," Dean repeated, his face unreadable, but his eyes pained.
John sighed heavily. "You can't help. At least not yet. I'm being dogged at every turn and I still haven't found something I need."
Dean bit his lip, debating if he should address the implication that John was being hunted too or the mystery thing he needed.
"What are you looking for?" he finally asked.
"I can't talk about it. This line isn't secure," John responded and shiver went up Jess's spine.
The idea of Big Brother spying on her life was creepy enough but the thought of a supernatural entity tapping their phone call and listening in was like ten times more disturbing.
Dean thought on that awful little tidbit of information for a moment. His brow was furrowed, only smoothing out when he came to a decision.
"You call if you need any help. You call when you have whatever it is you're looking for. And you call the moment you have a bead on the demon."
Jess couldn't help but raise a doubtful eyebrow. John Winchester didn't seem like the kind of man that would take kindly to his son bossing him around.
Apparently this was a phone call of firsts, because he grudgingly answered, "Alright." He was gritting his teeth, Jess could hear it. It sounded painful. "Alright, Dean. I'll call."
A breath gusted out of Dean, whether it was relief or lingering frustration, she couldn't tell. Probably a combination of both.
"I got a hunt for you. Take down these names." There was barely a heartbeat of space between his acquiescence and this old habit. His tone was all business again. Jess figured his pride could only take so much so he went back to his comfort zone. Cryptic orders and a bare minimum of information.
Jess didn't know what was more unhelpful and annoying; a set of seemingly random coordinates or a list of seemingly random names. Six to one, half dozen to the other.
Jess collapsed back down to the bed with a huff and quickly had to press a hand to her mouth. Her nausea had come back full force now that the excitement was over.
Dean fumbled around in the bedside table for a motel pen and paper. The bed jiggled with his movements. When he sat back down from kneeling on the bed, the mattress gave a bounce and Jess lost the fight with last night's alcohol.
She just barely made to the toilet and spewed a good half a bottle of tequila into the bowl just as Dean hung up the phone and tore off the sheet of paper with their new John given assignment.
Jess knew it was little childish but she couldn't help making her displeasure known. So maybe she hadn't said anything out loud, but her crossed arms and her tense scowl was a pretty obvious indicator. Sure people were apparently disappearing once a year from this one little stretch of highway in Indiana like its own Midwest Bermuda Triangle. But that didn't make her any happier with John Winchester's high handed dictation.
She had to admit that letting John do all the work hunting down the thing that killed Sam was chafing and the fact that Dean hadn't put up too much of a fight about it kind of pissed her off. Okay she was pissed a lot. She'd left her comfortable college life behind her to find John Winchester and to kill the thing that killed Sam. Now they were so close to at least accomplishing one of those goals and the man himself had the gall to order them not to follow. And Dean had the gall to agree without consulting her.
They were partners, damn it. They were supposed to discuss everything between them.
"You know I can practically hear you steaming over there."
"Yeah well," Jess scowled even deeper. "I'm not making much of an effort to be quiet about it."
Dean sighed and roughly rubbing a hand down his face, his other hand steady on the steering wheel. "You know as well as I do that if Dad didn't want to be found we weren't going to find him."
Jess huffed out a breath, not happy with how logical that was. "Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean that I can't be pissed about it."
"Not saying you shouldn't. You don't think I'm chomping at the bit to follow that area code to California and hunt him down, as well?"
Jess looked at him sharply in surprise. Dean just rolled his eyes at her.
"I've been all over every state in the lower forty-eight. I know my damn area codes."
Conceding the point, Jess finally let her arms uncross as her tense shoulders slumped. She shifted down in her seat to a more comfortable position. "I'm still pissed," she grumbled.
"Me too. But people are dying and Dad seems to think he's got everything under control. Besides," he grinned a little, "I made him swear to call. Judging by the sound of grinding teeth, he'll do it no matter how much it'll chafe."
Jess couldn't stop her own grin. "Gotta admit, that was kinda badass."
Dean let out a mildly hysterical chuckle. "Tell you the truth, I was half expecting him to reach through phone and smack me upside the head."
Laughing, Jess reached across and punched him in the arm. "Still. Badass."
Snorting, Dean batted her fist away and stretched into his customary sprawl behind the wheel, slouched in his seat, left leg bent at the knee, left arm resting against the window. "Tell me about the disappearances."
Snatching up the haphazard file they'd put together before hitting the road, Jess paged through it. "Three different couples all disappeared in the second week of April."
"No relation between any of them?"
Jess hummed and flipped to the missing person reports they found. "Nope. Different cities, different states. Only thing similar is they were all on a cross country road trip that took them straight through the same part of Indiana."
Dean frowned in thought. "We don't usually have to deal with couples. That's weird."
"Weirder than anything else we've had to deal with?" She raised her eyebrow at him doubtfully.
"Yeah, okay. But it's different at least." He waved a hand at her to go back to the file. "Anything special about when they disappeared?"
Shuffling the reports around, Jess wracked her brain. "Not off the top of my head. But that's pretty specific, the second week of April."
"Yeah," Dean nodded, "that's important. We got any books in the trunk you think will help?"
"Not sure," Jess murmured distractedly. "Something's nagging at me, but I can't put my finger on it."
"Concentrate on what we know. It'll come eventually."
"Okay." She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and refocused. "So we got couples disappearing in the middle of Indiana on the second week of April. What does that tell us?"
Dean tapped his thumb against the leather on the steering wheel, the face of his watch glinting in the sunlight.
"I'm thinking it smells like a ritual."
Jess perked up, interest piqued. "Ooh, we haven't done a ritual before."
Snorting at her enthusiasm, Dean shook his head in amusement. "Don't get too excited. They're a pain in the ass. It's usually idiots playing with things they shouldn't be."
Still, Jess was already sifting through the admittedly patchy knowledge she's accrued on their journey and listing which books in the trunk she should look through. She knew she shouldn't be so excited since people were dying and they were going to hunt evil, but hey, she couldn't help it. Her fascination was hard to suppress.
"How long 'til we get to Burketsville?" she asked studying the beat up map of Indiana she'd pulled out of the glovebox. The little town was right smack dab in the middle the assumed supernatural Midwest Bermuda Triangle of evil.
Dean glanced at his watch then turned his eyes back on the road. "Should get there mid-afternoon."
"Oh, good! Time to snoop around."
Shaking his head, Dean decided not to chide her again. Besides, he had to admit that a little bit of a challenge sounded like fun. It was always nice to mix it up a little. Keeps you on your toes.
Burketsville was peaceful and picturesque and perfect in a Stepford way. Immediately the hairs on the back of Jess's neck stood on end and one look at Dean told her he was just as wary.
They decided to split up and cover more ground.
Dean scanned the view of the shops outside his window and tightened his jaw. He didn't like the feeling he was getting at all.
"Do you want the diner or the general store?"
Jess peered around him out the window and the windshield biting her lip. She was getting a serious Twilight Zone vibe.
"Diner guy looks like a grump."
Dean shot her a smirk. "You can take the diner then and I'll scope out the store."
Jess huffed and scowled but didn't protest as she shoved her door open and climbed out. Dean at least waited until she had made it to the sidewalk before he pulled away and drove down the street toward the tiny local general store.
The scowly grumpy man sitting under the Scotty's sign silently watched her walk over. Jess flashed him her best friendly smile.
"Hi! I was wondering if you've seen a couple friends of mine." Jess kept her body language casual and open, projecting harmless concerned friend as she pulled out a copy of the last victims' missing persons reports. "They were supposed to be on a road trip, but they just disappeared."
She handed the sheets over to a suspicious looking Scotty biting her lip worriedly. "We've already been up and down this stretch of highway, but nobody in any of the other towns had seen them."
Scotty stayed seated as he took the sheets and barely even glanced at them. His gaze was pinned on Jess with a calculating expression that made the hairs on the back of her neck quiver. She had to work to keep her calm expression in place.
"Never seen them before," Scotty grumbled handing the pictures back. "We don't get many strangers around here."
"Oh." Jess folded the pictures up and shoved them in her back pocket. "Well, that's…" not something sketchy townspeople say in horror films, nope, not at all, "a shame. We've been searching for months."
Scotty studied her for another long moment skimming his eyes up and down her body in a way that made Jess think of how a butcher might size up a calf.
"What did you say your name was?"
Jess forced her smile to stay on her face as she made herself look as innocent and trusting as possible. "Bonnie Tyler. And you must be Scotty," she answered gesturing to the sign hanging above the door.
"Bonnie Tyler, like the singer?" Scotty raised an eyebrow at her.
"Yeah," Jess chuckled stiffly. "My parents were fans."
Suddenly Scotty's creased face curved up into what Jess figured was supposed to be a welcoming smile. "Since you came all this way for nothing, why don't you come in and I'll get you a piece of apple pie. You can wait for you boyfriend to come back."
"Oh, he's not my-" Jess cut herself off and took a close look at the practically perfect expression on Scotty's face. His eyes were sharp with calculation. "Sure," she said. "I could do with some pie."
His smile grew sharper and he led the way into the diner. Jess discretely pressed a hand to Sam's gun sitting against her ribcage and followed him. Whatever was going on, Scotty knew more than he was telling and Jess couldn't pass up the opportunity to get some information.
The smell of fresh backed apple pie hit her the moment she passed the threshold. Hey, she thought, if nothing else she'd get a piece of pie out of the deal.
In the local general store across the other side of the town center, Dean was flashing the missing persons pictures around with similar results. That is, until a young girl lugging around a couple cardboard boxes leaned around the old man manning the store.
"Don't you remember them?" she asked flicking her eyes from the pictures to the old man. "They came through here last year. They were just married."
And just like that the old man's face lit up with recognition and he tapped his chin like he was surprised he hadn't seen it before now.
"Why, yes. I remember now. They were having car trouble," he said looking up from the copied report, his face the picture of earnestness. "The mechanic fixed up their car and we gave them directions back to the highway."
It was all so reasonable and believable. The way the old man just jumped into the explanation when the girl jogged his memory. After all the memory is the first thing to go with old age. Or so Dean's been told. It made perfect sense that he wouldn't remember some random couple from a year ago. And he was just so earnest, the little old general store owner.
But, of course, Dean was a con man and you don't con a con.
When Dean looked up at the old man's face his own was the picture of hopeful eagerness. "You did? Can you tell me which way they went?"
The smile he got in return was all earnest helpfulness. He seemed to be full of all kinds of earnestness. "Of course, son. Just let me grab a pen and I'll write that down for you."
Dean remained the concerned friend while the old man wandered back around the counter to jot down the directions he'd so magnanimously offered to the missing couple.
"Did they really not make it through their trip?"
He turned toward the young girl still standing next to him. She looked genuinely worried and Dean thought it was safe to assume that whatever was going on she wasn't involved.
"Yeah." He furrowed his brow trying to look appropriately sad about his missing friends. "They were supposed to meet up with us on the other side of the state, but they never showed."
"You and the girl you came with?" she asked innocently enough.
Dean's hackles rose, but his expression never changed. "Yeah. We were doing a kind of cross country meet up deal. How did you know I came with a girl?"
Emily, according to her necklace, didn't seem to catch onto the fact that she was a wrong answer away from making his suspect list.
She smiled at him. "It's a small town," she said, amused. "A strange couple drives into town in an awesome classic car and word travels fast."
Good answer. Dean will hold off on planning how to gank her along with the rest of the suspicious townspeople. For now.
"Here you go, son."
Dean turned back to the old man and took the small slip of paper with possibly damning directions written on it in neat old person handwriting.
"Hope that helps," the old man said, his face still the picture of earnest concern.
"Yeah," Dean smiled, "I'm sure it will."
In Scotty's diner, Jess was being plied with fried chicken and maybe the best apple pie she'd ever had.
It was kind of hard to concentrate on how uncomfortable Scotty's occasionally proprietary gaze made her feel. Seriously, the pie was that good.
She knew she really shouldn't be eating the possibly evil people food, but she was suddenly really hungry. They'd skipped lunch and the fried chicken was breaded just how she liked it...
She should stop. Wasn't there something about not eating the evil cult's food or you can never leave the creepily perfect town they lived in? Oh wait, maybe that was faeries.
Still, Scotty hadn't taken his eyes off her since he'd set the glass of really good iced tea next to her plate and it was starting to make the food sit heavy in her stomach. She couldn't shake the feeling he was watching to make sure she ate every single bite. Clean her plate like her mom told her to when she was a kid.
The bell over the door jingled and Jess looked up from her probably enchanted apple pie to see Dean saunter in like they weren't in the middle of enemy territory.
"Let me guess." He grinned at the creepy staring diner owner. "You must be Scotty."
Immediately the food was like a lead weight in Jess's gut even as a wave of relief washed through her.
"Dean!" She dropped her silverware with a loud clatter and ungracefully scampered out of her seat. "Tell me you found out something about our friends."
Dean's eyes snapped toward her. In a glance he took in her panicked eyes, the plate of overflowing food on the table, and the mouthwatering slice of apple pie. For a split second, his eyes darkened to that deadly hunter look before it disappeared again.
"Good news!" He pulled a crookedly folded slip of paper from his pocket and brandished it at her triumphantly. "The guy at the general store remembered them. He gave me the directions how they went back to the highway."
Jess couldn't get really excited feeling like she had a rock in her stomach. "Awesome. Let's go now. Maybe we can hit the next town before nightfall."
She was rounding the table and trying to rush toward Dean without actually appearing to rush. Five more feet and she would be within arm's reach, but Scotty suddenly stood up from his seat between her and the door. And consequently Dean
"But you can't leave until you finish your meal," Scotty protested trying to sound earnest. He turned to Dean. "And you must eat something as well. You shouldn't be driving on an empty stomach."
Dean flashed a bright slightly simple smile at him as he reached out a hand toward Jess. She latched onto his hand and let him tug her past Scotty and the last few feet to his side.
"Nah, I'm not hungry. Finished a whole bag of corn chips on the drive in." His smile was just as earnest as creepy Scotty's. "Thank you though."
Turning to Jess, Dean squeezed her hand. "Come on, baby. Let's hit the road."
Scotty looked like he was going to protest again, but Dean was already towing Jess to the door and ushering her out ahead of him.
He kept a hold on her hand the short walk back to where he'd parked the Impala, and Jess didn't protest. His reassuring grip on her was making her stomach roll, but it was also keeping the nervous jitters from wracking her body.
Dean walked her around to the passenger side and opened the door for her, his eyes discretely surveying their surroundings. She fell into the seat and worked to keep herself looking as natural as possible in case Scotty was watching them through the diner's big picture windows. Which he was.
Wasting absolutely no time, Dean was in the driver's seat and the Impala was on the outskirts of Burketsville in the shortest amount of time possible without actually breaking the speed limit.
Jess waited another five minutes before she swallowed heavily and choked out, "Pull over."
Dean jerked the wheel and the vibration of the tires on gravel was the last straw on Jess's control. She had the door open just in time for her to fall out onto the ground and stumble three feet away before she started throwing up perfectly fried chicken and award winning apple pie.
She swayed on her feet then a heavy warm callused hand settled on the back of her neck comfortingly. Jess took one of her hands off her knees, it was doing a poor job of holding her steady anyway, and grabbed roughly at Dean. He let her get a fistful of his t-shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He kept her steady with one hand and pulled her pony tail away from her face with the other.
Another rolling wave of nausea hit her and Jess was grateful for his consideration because she really didn't want to have to deal with murderous cult food vomit in her hair. She gagged again.
It felt like a long time before her stomach was finally empty and all that was coming up was burning acid. A couple of weak spits, a pitiful whimper, and Jess was done projectile vomiting on the side of the road in nowhere Indiana.
Dean comfortingly stroked his callused thumb along the side of her neck. "You all done?"
"Yeah," she rasped and spit one last time for good measure. "Yeah, I'm good."
"Come on." He helped her straighten up, but kept a steadying hold on her elbow as he guided her back to the Impala. "We've got some water in the car and I think there's a granola bar in there somewhere too." She whined in the back of her burning throat. "It'll help settle your stomach, don't be a baby."
She gave him a halfhearted scowl as he dropped her to sit sideways in the seat, her feet still on the gravel shoulder. "Your bedside manner is astounding."
Dean just rolled his eyes at her and rummaged around in the ancient mint green cooler in the backseat. "I'm not the one that ate suspect evil cult food."
Jess grabbed the wet chilled bottle of water he passed her and leaned her head tiredly against the door jamb. "Yeah, okay. That one's on me."
"What were you thinking anyway?" Dean asked as he pawed around in the plastic gas station bags on the floor looking for the aforementioned granola bar. His voice held a stiff edge and Jess bit her lip as a trickle of shame joined the dregs of nausea still simmering in her gut.
He was disappointed in her and that, to her horror, combined with of the worry about the possibly poisoned food and the force of spewing it all up again made her eyes burn.
"I don't know. He just seemed suspicious and I thought I could get more out of him so I went inside. Then before I knew it he was shoving food at me and I was eating it."
Dean straightened back out of the backseat and passed her as slightly beat up but unopened granola bar. She took it silently and busied herself tearing it open, blinking her eyes hard until the burning went away.
Unfortunately, Dean had noticed the random speck of nonexistent dust that had flown into her eye and he shifted uncomfortably.
"Don't beat yourself up too much about it," he offered as she took a morose bite of her half crumbling granola. "I'm pretty sure there was probably some kind of cultist mojo involved. Coulda happened to anyone."
Jess snorted and took another bite. "Thanks," she said but looked at him with a doubtful expression in her eyes, "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better."
"Well," Dean changed the subject, "finish your hippy bar. We still got a few miles to go before the orchard the old man very specifically mentioned. Gotta try and get there while it's still daylight."
Jess shoved the last bite in her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of her water. Her nausea was almost gone and by the time Dean got back in the driver's seat she was ready to get back to business.
They drove for another fifteen minutes, the sun starting to set casting the sky dark orange before they finally hit the orchard. Before Dean could pull over his engine sputtered and died.
There was dead silence in the car for a long moment, Dean staring incredulously at the front of the car and Jess staring confusedly at Dean.
"Uh…"
"Those dicks messed with my car!" He was out of the car and shoving the hood up before Jess could even blink.
She looked from the shiny black hood blocking the view out of the windshield to the apple orchard out her window.
It was darker than the land surrounding it. A fine mist was floating over the ground, and there wasn't a single sound of birds in the air. The trees looked sturdy and healthy, but there was an almost colorless quality to them. Like the brown of the bark and the green of the leaves were muted by the heavy atmosphere.
It reminded her of Black Water Ridge, 35-111.
Cautiously she opened her door and climbed out not taking her eyes off the apple trees.
"Uh, Dean?" She closed the door, the squeaky sound covered Dean's offended mutters for a second. "Dean."
"I can't believe those dicks-"
"Dean!"
"What!"
He pulled his head out the engine and looked up at her impatiently. Jess just pointed at the orchard.
"Look."
Dean turned, looked, and immediately straightened, his body going tense and ready. He closed the hood without taking his eyes off the orchard and came around to stand next to her.
"What do you want to bet that whatever is taking those couples is living in those trees?"
Jess snorted. "No bet."
"Yeah, me neither." Dean nudged her, a light smack on her arm with the back of his hand. "Come on. Let's get some guns out of the trunk and go exploring."
Great, Jess sighed and followed him to the arsenal. Apparently she was about to go trudging into some more deep dark woods. Awesome, she can't wait.
Dean pulled out their two best shotguns and Jess helped him load them up with consecrated iron rounds. He was betting on whatever they were hunting was going to be corporeal so iron was about ninety percent more effective than rock salt. And if they were wrong iron worked just as well on the spirits too.
There was a little decorative fence standing just outside the orchard with a tall simply adorned arched marking the entrance. Stepping underneath it sent a shiver up Jess's spine and she gripped her shotgun tighter. The sun was almost down to the horizon and the dusk grew chilly. The quiet around them became more oppressive and they fell into formation. Dean in front and Jess in back, each covering their positions diligently.
They marched deeper into the creepy ass orchard. Deeper and deeper, the sound of leaves crunching under foot eerily muffled and the colors growing more and more washed out 'til everything looked almost black and white. Except for the apples. Those still looked bright and shiny red. Almost Technicolor.
"Is it just me or are you half expecting the trees to come alive and start pelting us with fruit like the Wizard of Oz, too?"
Dean flicked an amused glance over his shoulder. "Just don't try and eat one. There's some bad mojo in here."
"Don't worry," Jess muttered. "I think I'm off apples for a very long time."
He snorted in disgust. "Freakin' crime. Sullying a good apple pie like that."
"What do you think they did to the pie?" Jess asked. She figured it was safe to assume that whatever was going on was centered on the apples. Considering the orchard was like a setting for an ax murder.
"Probably didn't do much to them," Dean answered his eyes constantly scanning the trees around them. "The effects would have shown up by now if there some kind of curse on the food. No, they were feeding you a feast for something else."
"Great," Jess grumbled. "That makes me feel so much better."
"It should." Dean turned and looked at her full on. "If the food had been cursed, puking it all up wouldn't have saved you."
Jess took in his dark gaze, his tense shoulders, and the tight clench of his jaw. She gave him a reassuring smile and took a hand off her gun long enough to squeeze his forearm. "I'm fine, Dean. I had a little teenage bulimia moment, but I'm fine now."
He huffed and moved his gaze back on their surroundings. Jess returned her hand to her gun and he faced forward again leading the way into a clearing. "Just remember, no more eating the food from the evil cultists."
"Got it." Jess nodded her lips curving a little at the corners. "Stranger danger, don't take the candy and don't get into the white windowless unmarked van."
Dean's chuckle was cut off as he finally stepped into the clearing. He stopped abruptly and Jess moved cautiously to stand next to him and see what had his attention.
"That," Jess breathed staring up at the thing in the center of the clearing, "is possibly the creepiest thing I have ever seen."
"Five bucks says that's not just to scare away the birds."
"No bet."
The scarecrow was man shaped, man proportioned, which looked all kinds of not right. Its face was sewn up like something out of a horror movie knitting circle, its clothes were tattered and torn, and it actually had an honest to God scythe in one hand.
The only reason Jess wasn't pulling the trigger on it yet was because it seemed inanimate so far. Seemed being the operative word.
Dean started to walk forward. Jess's hand shot out, latching onto his jacket before she even registered moving.
"Where are you going?"
He looked back at her and patted her hand lightly. "Just getting a closer look. Watch my six."
Reluctantly she released her hold and white knuckled her shotgun again. She looked back at the scarecrow. "Oh, that is a bad idea."
"Yeah, probably." Dean sauntered over to one of the rickety looking wooden ladders standing under one of the apple trees and towed it over to the scarecrow hanging on its cross.
Jess stepped further into the clearing and took up position about ten feet away from the scarecrow as Dean started climbing up the ladder to get a closer look at the thing. She didn't take her eyes off of it, ready to fill it full of iron the moment it moved.
Dean reached eye level and stared it right in the face. "Dude, you fugly."
Jess snorted, feeling a little uneasy about him insulting possibly murderous things. "Any other astute observations, Dean?"
"Hold your horses," he called over his shoulder looking the thing over. "I'm working on it."
Jess growled under her breath, "Hurry. The sun's almost down." It was getting darker and she didn't think they wanted to be stuck in the creepy orchard with the creepy scarecrow with just flashlights to see by.
"Just a sec." Dean tugged at something on the thing's arm then reached out behind him making a grabby motion. "Hand me that picture of the dude."
Pulling the picture from her jacket pocket Jess hurried over and pressed it into his palm before backing off again to a relatively more comfortable distance. He flipped it open one handed and held it up for a comparison.
A long moment of quiet then Dean was hurriedly shoving the picture in his pocket and jumping down from the ladder. Gripping his shotgun, he backed toward her keeping the scarecrow in his line of sight.
Jess tensed and followed his lead heading for the tree line before he even made it even with her. "What? What is it?"
"It's got a pretty nice tat for a stuffed bag of straw. I'm guessing it didn't come by it honestly."
It took her a second, but she got there in the end. "Oh, gross!"
"Yep."
The last rays of sunlight were gone and the moon was almost full lighting the orchard well enough to see. Perfectly well enough to see the scarecrow turn its head toward them.
Dean shoved her into the trees. "Run." The scarecrow broke the ropes tying it to its cross and jumped down from its perch. "Run!"
Jess turned just as Dean pulled the trigger and blasted the scarecrow in the chest with a load of iron pellets. It didn't slow it down more than a hair.
They bolted, running full tilt back to the car. Jess was a step behind Dean not bothering to worry about anything other than trying to keep up with his long powerful strides. She may have been in track in high school but Dean had been running for his life from things, stronger and faster than humans since he was a child. He had somewhat of an advantage on her.
But she was a fast learner and when you have the motivation of not being skinned and eaten by an evil scarecrow you found out you could break the speed of sound if you pushed.
Out of the corner of her eye Jess caught movement, heard a breathy echoing moan. She raised her shotgun and shot the scarecrow in the side just as it started the raise its scythe to slash at her. The blast stuttered its movement and Jess put on another burst of speed drawing even with Dean.
There was a branch right in the middle of the path that hadn't been there before and they vaulted over it without a pause. It made a loud crack as the scarecrow just bulldozed on through and Dean twisted his torso enough to blast it in the chest again slowing it down and they were able to lunge under the metal archway and out of the orchard.
Jess couldn't slow down fast enough and she skidded on the gravel outside the orchard 'til she bounced off the side of the Impala. Bracing herself against the cool steel she spun around and brought up her shotgun leveling it with practiced hands. Dean had stopped a foot before the Impala his stance tense, his gun raised, his eyes narrowed.
There was another low raspy moan through the air. The scarecrow had stopped on the edge of the tree line, half hidden in the shadows. It just stared at them with its stitched up, dried, leathery human skin face. A long moment of absolute stillness then a cloud just barely touched the light of the moon and the scarecrow was gone.
Jess didn't even know she'd been holding her breath until it all gusted out of her and she sucked in another lung full.
"Well," she panted, her heart still pounding in her chest, her hands tremoring minutely. "That was exciting."
Dean snorted and dropped his stance, propping his gun on his shoulder. "It was something alright."
"I don't know about you," Jess said, slumping against Baby and dropping her head back against the roof, "but I'll never be able to watch the Wizard of Oz the same way again."
"Brings a whole new meaning to, 'If I only had a brain'."
Jess knocked her head against the roof with a groan.
Chuckling, Dean nodded toward the car. "Come on, Dorothy. We've got a cannibalistic scarecrow to research and kill."
Oh joy.
The internet was as good as useless when it came to researching animate man eating scarecrows. Pretty much all they came across were stoner conspiracy theories about the darker allusions and subtext to the Wizard of Oz. The results were a little better when they started typing "male/female sacrifice" into the search engines. Still it was less than helpful.
Luckily, Dean knew what he was doing and Jess had pretty much subsumed herself in lore and mythology when she wasn't running around after him torching corpses and getting tossed around by ghosts.
When they turned to the admittedly limited library in the Impala's trunk it was pretty easy to at least confirm what they'd already pretty much figured out about the situation so far.
"Male-Female couples that have to be sacrificed in a small window of time. An orchard of evil apples. And force feeding the offerings." Jess flipped through a leather-bound book that was starting to come apart at the seams. "And that all adds up to?"
"Pagan god sacrifice," Dean answered promptly. "The timeline is right in between the spring equinox and summer solstice. Big pagan events."
"While Scotty was sizing me up like a piece of meat and feeding me like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, he mentioned their apple pie has been awarded the best pie in the state like every year running." Jess looked up from her book and propped her elbow on the table, her chin on the heel of her hand. "I'm guessing the god is some kind of crop protector. Plentiful harvest, pest and disease protection, prosperous town, ect."
Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Makes perfect sense. Dad only found four couples, but who knows how long the town's been doing delivery for this thing."
"You said the general store guy was acting shady and obviously Scotty's in charge of the last meal." Jess bit her lip, her brows furrowed when a really bad thought came to her. "How far do you actually think it goes? Is it just a couple of people getting ambitious or…"
"Or is it the whole town." Hissing through his teeth unhappily, Dean shoved his father's journal away from him and rubbed his palm over his mouth in thought. "Now that's a comforting thought. An entire town of pagans willingly sacrificing people to some kind of god."
"Everything I'm reading," Jess said, "says sacrifices can be food, animals, or worldly riches, too. They don't have to be throwing unsuspecting couples at this thing."
"Yeah, well. Obviously they went for a little more kick to the supernatural takeout." Dean stood up and stretched pulling his shirt over his head in a smooth gesture. "We're not gonna get anything more done right now. I'm gonna hit the hay."
Jess's eyes got caught on the scattered stark white of old scars on his skin and the dark brown of more recent ones dotting over his chest and back. His muscles rolled and glided under the skin of his back as he tossed his shirt at his duffle and started rummaging around for his dopp and his sweats.
Pulling her eyes away, Jess closed her book and pulled her legs up to sit Indian style in her chair. "We hitting the university library tomorrow?"
"Yup."
Jess watched his naked back and freckled shoulders until he disappeared behind the bathroom door then she got up and headed for her own bed.
The next day should be interesting, she thought as she climbed under the covers and listened the sounds of Dean puttering around in the bathroom. She hadn't gotten much of a chance to delve into the pagan areas of hunting and she was always eager to learn more. Other than the human skin stealing scarecrow this was proving to be a pretty fascinating hunt so far.
Dean came out of the bathroom still shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips. He flopped backward on his bed, checking his gun on the nightstand and his knife under his pillow before he switched off the light and the room fell into darkness.
Rolling over to face the wall, Jess closed her eyes, ready for the next day and its promised research to come.
It took longer than it should have to find out exactly which kind of god they were looking for. Apparently there were hundreds of different kinds of gods associated with crops and harvests and forest protection from dozens of different pantheons of paganism. After about two hours of dredging through dry dusty tomes of gods that were not the one they were looking for, Dean finally got the idea to research of actual history of Indiana.
Once they figured out that Scandinavian immigrants pretty much settled that entire part of the state it was pretty easy to narrow down the hunt to the vanir. Bringers of youth, prosperity, protection, and fertility.
"That's why the male and female sacrifices," Jess murmured thoughtfully. "It's part of some kind of fertility ritual."
"Does it say how to kill it?" Dean asked from his place standing behind her reading over her shoulder.
"No. Just says they usually live in some kind of tree." Jess tilted her head back against his stomach looking up at him almost upside down. "I'm gonna take a leap of logic and guess this one's probably an apple tree."
Dean snorted and glanced down matching her dry expression. "What gave it away?"
Jess smiled and tilted her back down to the massive fully illustrated book in front of her. It was opened to the appropriate entry; the text was old English style and the picture of a scarecrow-like figure hanging planted in a field was almost as creepy as the real thing. "So… Salt and burn?"
His lips quirked up in amusement and Dean nodded. "Salt and burn."
Unfortunately, by the time they got out of the library and headed back to the orchard of death, the sun was sinking again.
Jess scowled as she loaded up her sawed-off with iron rounds and grabbed up a burlap sack of rock salt.
"You ever notice how we end up doing ninety percent of the dangerous parts of hunting in the dark?"
Dean smirked at her and slammed the trunk closed, his own sawed-off propped against his shoulder as he picked up the red can of gasoline they'd stopped to fill up on the way there.
"Less chance of being noticed by civilians or cops and the freaks always come out at night," he replied, not seeming in the least bit perturbed by this fact. "Fucks with your sleep schedule, but you get used to it eventually."
Jess huffed annoyed by his nonchalance, but nonetheless, she followed him under the arch and back into the apple scented jaws of death.
No sooner had they moved three rows of creepy trees into the orchard then they heard it; a young girl's voice screaming for help. They shared a split second look then went running.
They ran all the way into almost the exact center of the orchard barely twenty yards past the scarecrow that, thankfully, seemed to still be inert for now.
"Oh, thank God!" A young girl, barely in her late teens if that, was trussed up like an offering and roped to an apple tree. Next to her, scowling darkly while relaxing against his own tree was a teenage boy. "You've got to get me out of here!"
"Emily?" Dean asked puzzled. Jess shot him a look. "The girl from the general store. Sketchy owner's niece," he explained
"They've gone crazy." Emily tugged urgently at her ropes, her wrists already raw from struggling. "They just tied us up and said they were going to sacrifice us to some kind of god."
"Hate to tell you this, sister." Dean dropped the gas can, pulled his bowie knife from its sheath at his lower back, and crouched to cut her ropes. "But the god's real and the townspeople have been sacrificing people to it since the town was founded."
Emily rubbed some feeling back into her wrists as Dean helped her to her feet. "That couple you were asking about?"
"Yep," Dean nodded and turned toward the boy to release him too. "That ugly ass scarecrow back there with a nice tattooed patch of skin hanging off its arm was a pretty good clue."
"Oh god." Emily held her clenched hands close to her chest and swallowed thickly.
Jess had been watching the teenage boy while Dean and the girl talked. There was something about his silence, about his angry expression that didn't sit well with her. She was right to be suspicious because the moment Dean had cut the ropes the boy lunged and knocked Dean to the ground.
On reflex Jess had her shotgun aimed and she just barely stopped herself from pulling the trigger. She remembered that it wasn't loaded with rock salt then and the kid wasn't actually a supernatural creature. Getting a back full of lead from that range would probably kill him. Not to mention Dean was within range too.
Emily yelped and stumbled away from the tussle. The boy threw a wild punch at Dean which he blocked like he was swatting a fly. In a swift move, Dean had their positions switched with the kid on his belly face first into the dirt, his arm wrenched so far back his shoulder was on the verge of dislocation.
"What the hell is your problem!" Dean growled holding the struggling little shit down without any effort whatsoever.
Jess wanted to demand the exact same thing after she smacked him around a bit first. She took extreme exception to anyone trying to hurt Dean.
"You're ruining everything!" the kid shouted muffled by the leaves in his mouth. "The god demands his offering."
Dean raised an eyebrow at that. "Kid, you do realize that thing is gonna take your face and wear it like scarf, right?"
The boy sneered at Dean as much as he could on his belly still eating dirt. "It is an honor to be given to the Vanir in sacrifice."
They all looked at the boy incredulously until Dean drawled, "Right," and punched him in the face knocking him out for the count. He stood and snatched up his gun again.
"Has the entire town gone insane?" Emily shrieked looking overwhelmed.
"They've been sacrificing people to this thing for at least a hundred years, so the insanity is probably not a new thing."
Jess suddenly realized that it had grown dark around them and it had gotten unsettlingly quiet. She gripped her shotgun tight and looked back where the scarecrow's cross was standing in the middle of the clearing. It was empty.
"Dean! The scarecrow's gone."
His head snapped around looking past her. "Shit. We gotta move. Go, run!"
He grabbed Emily's arm and yanked her along, Jess bringing up the rear covering their six.
They didn't even make it ten yards when the scarecrow god appeared in front of them and raised its scythe. Emily screamed and Dean pulled the trigger. The scarecrow stumbled back a step and they veered off to the right picking up speed.
Jess caught movement in her peripheral and turned the gun and fired not even bothering to aim. It was so close, there was no way the shotgun's scatter missed.
They broke through the trees in another clearing and skidded to a stop when they were suddenly lit up with flashlights ahead of them. Jess looked right and left and hissed in frustration.
"Back! Go, back!" They turned back around, but their way was blocked as more townspeople appeared out of the dark with flashlights and guns of their own.
Jess's eyes flicked through the crowd in panic. They were running for their lives through a carnivorous god's orchard and were surrounded by human sacrificing assholes. They were so fucked right now.
"Everything was working out fine. Why did you have to stick your nose into it?" the goddamn town sheriff demanded. Un-freaking-believable.
Dean shrugged carelessly, like he wasn't in the middle of a ring of armed and angry pagans. "I got a problem with serving up people to a bloodthirsty god on a silver platter. Seems like I'm doing your job for you, Sheriff."
The sheriff growled and racked his shotgun.
Jess's mind was going a mile a minute trying to think of a way they can get out of this. She was coming up with nothing. She and Dean were back to back with Emily sandwiched between them, but they were good and surrounded with a hungry god roaming in the trees around them. Things looked pretty bleak at the moment.
"Uncle Harley?" Emily was looking at an older man who was looking at her with regret. "Please let us go."
"I'm so sorry, Emily. It'll be over quickly I promise." There was an older woman standing next to him and she looked like she was trying to seem just as regretful, but Jess thought she wasn't exactly hitting the mark. Bitch.
"Please, let us go," Emily begged, though Jess could tell she didn't have much hope. It was pretty apparent her uncle thought apple pie was more important than his own flesh and blood.
Uncle Harley, grimaced and begged, "Emily, for the good of the town, you have to let him take you. You have to-"
And a scythe suddenly appeared sticking out through the guy's chest. Then it was chaos. The old lady beside him stared in horror and started screaming.
The townspeople were shouting and screaming and scattering like roaches in the light. Jess hadn't even realized she was soccer mom-ing Emily with a protective arm across her chest until she felt the girl gripping her forearm, fingernails digging sharply into her skin.
The scarecrow yanked the scythe out of Uncle Harley's back the old man's body falling to the ground, then it grabbed the woman in a chokehold. It stabbed the scythe through Uncle Harley's Achilles heal and started dragging them both back into the dark depths of the orchard. The old woman screaming the whole way.
"Come on!" Dean ordered, stretching an arm across Emily and planting his hand on Jess's chest to shove her backward toward the orchard entrance. Jess kept her hold on Emily and dragged her along. "Let's go!"
They didn't stop until Jess had shoved Emily into the backseat and lunged into the car herself. Dean gunned the engine spraying gravel and burning rubber out of there.
The smell of burning pagan god apple tree was surprisingly pleasant. You'd think since it had been inhabited by a people eating Scandinavian god for probably hundreds of years, it would smell rancid with the evil that had soaked into its roots. But no, it smelled like apple wood smoke and Christmas apple smoked ham. Jess was getting kinda hungry despite the fact that she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to look at an apple for a good long while.
If this hunt induced aversion to different foods kept up, there wasn't going to be much diversity in her diet. She'd already had to cut out cake and now everything apple. What's next? Celery? Chicken? Lollipops?
Dean caught her eye and nodded his head indicating they step back and let Emily hold vigil over the destruction of her home by herself.
They walked a ways away and Dean leaned casually against an apple tree. Jess wrinkled her nose at that. No way was she touching one of them if she didn't have to.
"I'm going to text Dad and tell him the hunt's done."
Jess looked away from the blazing tree and raised an eyebrow. "You think he actually still has his phones much less checks his messages?"
"He knew you were riding with me," Dean said. "Only way he coulda known that was if he listened to my messages."
There were so many things she could say to that, all of them rude, so she held her tongue. She didn't think Dean would appreciate being reminded right then that she thought his dad was kind of a dick.
Jess bit her lip and thought about something else that had been nagging at her. "Do you believe he'll actually be able to find the demon that killed Sam and your mom?"
Dean looked back at the burning tree just staring at it for a long quiet moment. Finally, he answered his expression serious and his voice steady. "If anyone can find the yellow eyed bastard, it's my dad."
She blew out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding and absently tucked a flyaway behind her ear as she contemplated that. She may not have much faith in John Winchester despite knowing he was scary intelligent and driven to the point of obsession, but she trusted Dean.
He'd been with her every waking moment, protecting her, giving her the strength to protect herself, to move on, to live again. There was no one else in the world she'd ever trusted more. So, no, she may not have complete faith in John's ability to bring them their revenge, but she trusted Dean's judgment to the ends of the earth.
If he believed that his father would hunt down the evil that had destroyed all three of their lives then she believed it too.
"Okay," she murmured letting the doubt and uncertainty evaporate from her shoulders. "Okay."
Dean met her gaze, his green eyes gleaming sharply and his expression utterly fierce. "We're going to kill it, Jess. Don't ever doubt that."
"I don't," she whispered her eyes riveted on his. "I don't doubt that one single bit."
Dean grinned like he was baring fang and she shivered, a thrill of anticipation buzzing under her skin.
"Good," he growled. "Good."
They stood there surrounded by wood smoke, watching the tree burn, the orange flame almost hypnotizing. Stone cold certainty settled solid in Jess's gut. She had no doubt that they'd slaughter the yellow eyed demon together.
Her faith in Dean never wavered.
TBC...