Chapter 1: Ghost Riders In The Sky

Castiel was going to be straight with Dean. "Sam's soul has been locked in the cage with Michael and Lucifer. If we try to force that mutilated thing down his gullet, it could be catastrophic.

"He needs his soul," the Winchester rebuked.

"Look," said the young woman standing beside the eldest Winchester, "we get it back and if there are complications then we'll figure out a way to deal with those, too."

It was while she was folding her flannel shirts that she got the call. The name and bright smile that lit up her screen was one she thought never to see again: Sam Winchester. The picture had been taken years ago; short weeks before Dean showed up unexpectedly in Sam's rented home. And the sight of it brought a painful stab to her heart.

She loved the Winchester family, always felt like one of them in spite of all the dangers they faced. The young woman would always be one of the Winchesters, even if she wasn't blood... even though she left long ago.

The life of the Hunter, or Huntress as they called her, turned out to be something that eventually wasn't meant for her.

If she could remember correctly, it was Dean Winchester that said, "Once a Hunter, always a Hunter." Certain habits did indeed die hard. There was a devil's trap drawn up under her front door mat in invisible paint; runes and wards drawn in the same aforementioned substance were scattered across her house to protect her from any harm. Holy water was almost always on hand, if not within arm's reach. The wind sills and doors were lined with salt infused iron painted white so not to draw suspicion from any passerby, few and far in between as they were.

Despite all the precautions, she hadn't been hunting in about four years. At some point, at least for some people in the business, there was a point where enough was enough. The she never thought that day would come, she left shortly after Castiel, the righteous idiot, broke down the walls protecting Sam from the memories of torture by the hands of Lucifer and Michael. She made sure that the Winchester brothers were stable enough before she disappeared.

She never wanted to see that kind of pain and suffering ever again... and that is why, though her heart and gut demanded otherwise, she slid the red button across the screen to ignore the all. This was a wound best left unopened. If Sam truly needs me, she thought, he'll call back or leave a message.

Her long slender hand placed the phone back on the couch beside her and she finished folding her laundry. There were chores to finish, after all.

Later that night, as she slowly ate her dinner, she gazed at the number '2' icon pressed at the top right corner of her phone app. It meant there was not only a missed call but a message had been left for her. A call from Sam could mean anything, something life-altering on her end... but a message meant bad juju was going down in the world.

The dread that washed over her like a bucket of ice cold water filled fibre of her being. There was no telling which she dreaded more: Listening to what Sammy had to say or actually leaving the comfort of her new life to help in whatever way she dared.

She would sacrifice anything for them.

With a slight tremor to her hand, she picked up the phone, heaved a sigh, and listened to what the youngest Winchester had to say. "Jeyne? It's Sam. Dean's boogied on down to funky town... and we need to get him back. Call me back. We could really use your help." There was a block as Sam hung up the phone.

'Funky town' was an expression that Sam and Dean used in code to let each other know that they were in trouble. A code that they had asked her to use if she was ever in danger.

And as if it was second instinct, Jeyne Levaine Ramsay clicked Sam's contact and the phone began to ring.

"Jeyne?" came Sam's sad voice after the first ring. It was as if he had been waiting for her call.

Despite the bad situation, Jeyne smiled and marveled at the sound of his voice. No matter how much it hurt, in the end she missed him and his brother dearly.

"Hey Moose," her voice was calm and even, like the heavenly sound of a babbling brook. "It's so good to hear your voice."

"You too, Huntress," he said with a smile to his baritone voice. It was so easy talking with Sam, as if years had never passed. It was easy to talk to him from the start and something told her that that would never change.

"Hate to keep this short but sweet, though I'm sure we'll have plenty to talk. Where do you need me?" Jeyne said trying not to sound terrified or rushed.

"Lebanon, Kansas." Sam gave her an approximate address.

Jeyne sighed and ran a hand through her long hair nervously. "That's a 17 hour drive, Sammy." She looked out the bay window of her living room and to the city below her from where her home stood on the Hamilton escarpment. "And that's without stopping."

"Cas will go out to meet you. Just call when you get close." Sam reassured.

"If I'm not there this time tomorrow, if I don't check up, activate the tracker on my truck. Remember how?"

"Of course," he said evenly. "Drive safe. We'll see you soon."

"Always."

It wasn't long before Jeyne had what necessities she needed thrown into the green duffel bag Dean had gifted her some years ago. Passport, a bunch of clothes and some of her favourite hunting tools. She simply hoped that the border patrol wouldn't search her bags when she crossed into the States... or find the false bottom in the bed of her truck. All her weapons were stashed there, even after all these years.

She didn't have a problem coming into Canada so she prayed to Castiel, hoping it would go just as smoothly returning to the States. Jeyne put the key into the ignition of her 1950's Chevy pickup and roared down the road.

Luckily enough for her, she wasn't stopped at the border for a search, nor was she pulled over by any local officers or state troopers as she flew down the road. Perhaps praying to Cas, something she hadn't done very often, was beneficial in some way. A grin crossed her features for a moment: They had eventually taken a good liking to each other—had become friends, even. Cas had been the one who graciously took the time off his quest for purgatory to set to the wards in her house—especially the angel wards. Jeyne always had a hard time with them. Cas was gracious enough to leave her with a notebook filled with wards/runes and their meaning. But as soon as he was done, he vanished.

Tired eyes turned back to the tarmac as the truck continued down the road long into the morning. As the sun rose over the horizon a Johnny Cash song came on the radio. Ghost Riders in the Sky. Fingers tapped against the steering wheel to the steady beat of the music. It reminded her what was out there, lurking in the shadows, in the corner of our eyes or often in broad daylight (though many would often denied what they saw).

As the song played, two particular verses stood out to her:

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred,
Their shirts all soaked with sweat.
He's riding hard to catch that herd
But he ain't caught 'em yet
'Cause they got to ride forever on that
Range up in the sky
On horses snorting fire as they ride on hear their cry

As the riders loped on by him,
he heard one call his name.
'If you want to save your soul from hell
a-riding on our range
Then cowboy change your ways today
or with us you will ride
Trying to catch devil's herd across
these endless skies.'

And as the final chorus came to an end, she was reminded of the weeks before she left. After having her brother murdered by a demon, she flew out of town in a rage; wanting nothing but to kill every demon she could get her hands on.

"Then cowboy change your ways today or
with us you will ride."

The line repeated itself in her mind and it reminded her of a conversation of sorts she once had with Dean.

Jeyne stood in the middle of a gloomy diner. There was blood splatter on her clothes. The blade in her hand dripped with blood and a sea of demon corpses lay at her feet. It surrounded her and nearly filled every inch of the laminate flooring. An uncontrollable rage filled her and she shook with it.

She had gotten her revenge on the demon who killed her brother days ago. However it hadn't been enough. There were still so many other of his filthy kind roaming the Earth and each one of them was as guilty as the demon who tortured and killed Cliff. The more scum she could get her hands on the better.

The Hunter took one last look at the justice she doled out and turned to leave, her face and eyes void of emotion. Appearing before her, gun in hand and ready to fire, was none other than Dean Winchester. She stopped and watched as his face dropped while taking in the damage.

"Jeyne..." was all he could manage to say in that moment.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said, almost allowing herself to convey her pride.

"No, this is bat crap crazy. That's what this is," Dean fired, his tone incredulous.

"And demons slaughtering people and tearing apart families is a practice you condone, Dean Winchester?" she spat venomously. "Saving people, hunting things—the family business: Isn't that what we do?"

"I never said that," Dean replied, obvious worry etched on his face. "Believe me, I'm as happy as the next hunter that there are less evil things in the world. Fan-freaking-tastic! Good for you, Huntress. But there comes a point where you just gotta stop. 'Cause if you don't change you'll be so far gone that you eventually become what you hunt. You'll be the monster I have to gank and I never want to see that day."

With each word that came out of Dean's mouth, parts of Jeyne's logical self was slowly coming back to the forefront. The walls, dean knew, were still up—could see it in her eyes. "Get out of my way, Dean." Jeyne tried to push past him, wanting nothing but to get away.

Dean grabbed hold of her by the shoulders and pushed her backwards. "There's no way in hell you're leaving here without knowing that you won't go on any of these insane suicide missions again."

"Promise," she said hollowly.

"No way," he replied harshly. "Not Good enough."

"Why not?" she hissed.

He gestured to her. "Because this ain't Jeyne talking: It's the sadistic psycho-bitch that's flapping empty promises."

Dean had been prepared for her outburst. She roared, her knife raised as she ran full tilt towards him. He deflected it easy enough, disarming her which sent the demon knife skittering across the floor a safe distance away. Jeyne used his brief distraction to her advantage, stomping on his foot, punching him in the stomach and head but him. He fell backwards against the door frame and she made a bee-line for the demon blade. He quickly regained his marbles and tackled Jeyne to the ground. She yelped. He spun her around and punched her, cringing as he did so. Dean didn't want to hurt her but she was strong. If Jeyne was going to put up a fight, he would force himself to reply in kind.

He head but her in turn and she grunted but wasn't done fighting by any means. She brought up her leg and kneed Dean in the crotch. The Winchester yelped and his grip on her loosened. Jeyne pushed him away and kicked him in the face as he stood and clocked him with a right upper cut. He fell onto his back. She scrambled to her feet and was desperately trying to reach the blade. There was nothing she wanted more than to get what she wanted and leave, to hunt down more demons. Fighting Dean, the man she cared for more than anything in this world, was tearing her apart and her facade was rapidly disappearing as each second ticked by. She had to avenge Cliff... she had to.

Just as Jeyne clumsily bent down to grab the blade, Dean was there to pull her backwards by the leg and onto her stomach. He pulled her towards him, spinning the Huntress around as she struggled violently against him.

He sat on her torso, pinning her wrists to the ground with his large hands. His lip was blooded and her forehead had a gash where glass had cut her from the fall.

"Dean! Let me go!" she screamed as she struggled to keep her tears at bat. "I have to do this."

"No," he said firmly, "you don't and I won't stand by and watch you drown in your sorrow and lose yourself.

"Let me go—they killed him!" she yelled in anguish.

"And you killed the bastard. I watched you do it with my own eyes," he replied in earnest. "What good did that do you? Nothing. You feel just as bad as you did the day he died, if not worse. Killing that demon and all the others is not going to bring him back, Jeyne. This has gotta stop."

"I can't—"

"You can and you will," he said firmly though not harshly. "If I can move on from all the crap I've gone through, you can. You're stronger than you think, baby girl."

Whatever fight she had left her. What words she had to utter died on her lips. She let out an inhuman wail as her emotions broke through the flood gates and crashed to the forefront of her mind. She screamed and sobbed and Dean was quick to take her into his arms, desperately holding her to his chest. Jeyne wasn't magically healed but he knew she was out of danger, at least for the time being.

Neither of them could remember how long they had been holding each other as if their lives depended on it. Dean rocked her in his arms, one hand on the back of her head, the other around her waist. They sat there among the dead bodies until Jeyne cried herself dry and fell asleep, exhaustion finally taking over.

Jeyne woke up a day later at Bobby's. Dean was at her side, asleep on the floor. Their hands were close to each other, as if he had fallen asleep holding it.

Dean, as well as Sam and later Cas, went out of his way to help sort her out when she in dire straights. She did the same for her boys when she could. She would be damned if she didn't do better than her best to repay him what he deserved; what she owed.

Jeyne, full of conviction, pressed the gas pedal close to the floor and flew faster down the highway like a bat out of hell.

It was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon when Jeyne pulled up to the rendez-vous point. She slipped from the faded blue cab and pulled the phone from her jacket pocket. Castiel's name was easily found in her contact list. His phone was ringing. What normally wouldn't have startled her did: A ringtone broke through the misty air from behind her. She spun around, blade at the ready, only to find the celestial being standing sheepishly behind her. His usually lazy and tired smirk painted his face.

"Cas," Jeyne sighed, a smile lighting up her face. She tucked her phone quickly into her pocket before hugging him fiercely. To her surprise, he held her with equal measure. "Never thought I'd see your face again."

"Likewise," his hoarse voice said evenly.

They stood by the side of the road for a few moments longer, hugging each other. The feeling felt surreal to Jeyne—she thought never to see him again.

As they separated she wondered what it would feel like to hug Sam again... and eventually Dean.

"Shall we?" Cas said, drawing the huntress from her thoughts.

"Yeah, of course," Jeyne replied. They walked together in silence towards the Chevy. "Mind taking the wheel? Haven't spent more than 10 minutes at a time out of the truck in 19 hours."

"Yes. Of course."

"Thanks."

As they climbed into the cab, Jeyne half expected to use some of his 'mojo' to drive. Sam wanted her to know where the bunker was, after all, so Castiel wouldn't teleport her there. However he did the most unexpected thing. His hand grasped the key in the ignition and turned on the engine and drove down the road like he had done it a thousand times before.

"I learned to drive when I was human." He said this casually, like it was the most normal thing to have been human.

Jeyne's eyes widened, obviously surprised. Her mouth hung agape. "I've clearly missed a lot more than I thought."

"Yes, you have. I won't regale you with details—it's best if Sam does that. I'll answer questions after you've spoken with him." His tone was even.

"Fair enough."

The ride short ride to the bunker was spent in silence. Trees flew by in a blur as the truck sped down the road. Clouds on the near horizon threatened rain and the atmosphere around them felt eerily still, like the calm before a storm. Whether the storm was a force of Dean or nature was to be determined later.

Some short minutes later, Castiel was turned onto a slanted, winding gravel road. And after climbing the last hill, a landing with a set of stairs leading into the rock face, where a door had been set, came into view. On the flat bit of ground one could see a parked truck, very similar to that of Jeyne's. Next to it stood a tall figure rummaging through its bed. His hair came close to this shoulders and his broad torso a green army-style jacket (one similar to the one Jeyne bore); the collar of a grey flannel shirt could be seen peeking through the top of the jacket. His hands rose from the behind the tailgate with a few bags of groceries.

As soon as Sam Winchester turned around to face the sound of the approaching vehicle, he was pleasantly surprised to see Castiel driving the truck, Jeyne seated in the passenger seat. He wasn't expecting them for a few hours—the bunker was still a bit of a mess. At least he could now have extra hands to it done.

Jeyne's tired and tearful smile reached her eyes at the sight of the youngest Winchester brother. Without really realizing what she was doing (if she had, she would've thought it best not to) the young woman was running towards him and she launched herself into the giant's arms, quiet tears of happiness streaming down her face. Sam had dropped the bags almost immediately to catch her. He hugged her fiercely, lifting her momentarily from her feet. Until he saw Jeyne sitting in the cab of her truck, he hadn't realized how much he had missed her. It seemed as it the sentiment was equally shared.

"Sammy," Jeyne mumbled into the crook of his beck. "It's so great to see you."

"You too, J," he said gently.

They held each other at arm's length for but a moment before Sam bent down to grab the plastic grocery bags.

"Allow me," Castiel, who was suddenly at Sam's side. "You two have a lot to, uh, 'catch up' on."

"Thanks, Cas," Jeyne and Sam said simultaneously. They smiled and laughed. Jeyne walked quickly to the cab and reached for her duffel bag, which Sam took from her as the door slammed shut with a clunk.

He gestured towards the door and they quietly walked into the bunker. Sam held the door for her. "Cas is right: We've got a lot to talk about."

"Then we better get on with it. Let's discuss it over a pot of coffee and a bowl of poutine," Jeyne suggested with a smile.

"Consider it done."

"The next day when I checked on his body, Dean was gone. Nothing was there but a not asking me not to go looking for him. It was when I knew the Mark had most likely turned him into a demon, just as Cain had been."

Jeyne nearly choked on her coffee as she began taking a sip. "Dean was a demon and you didn't think of calling me in then?"

"Sam was missing for some months in search of Dean. Consumed by it. What's important is that Dean was found in the end, restrained and demonism cured," Cas cut in.

"My statement still stands," Jeyne said exasperated.

Sam's throat did its weird bobbing as he stared at Jeyne. It was clear he was struggling with something. "You left, claiming you had had enough. I didn't want to bother you unless it was absolutely necessary."

Jeyne's expression was incredulous. "And dean being a freaking demon wasn't important enough for that?"

"Of course it was! But calling someone who clearly no longer wanted anything to do with the Hunter lifestyle wasn't on the top of my list. Getting Dean detained and out of harm's way was my priority."

Jeyne was going to retort. Instead, she shook her head and hung it, relaxing her shoulders and taking a deep breath. Arguing wouldn't help them. "Then why call me back into the thick of things? Has he gone all Darth Vader again?"

"Not yet."

"What do you mean 'not yet'?"

"The Mark is slowly corrupting him again we fear it will take over, turning him back into a demon. We need to get the Mark off," said Castiel.

"But how, exactly, are we going to do that?"

Sam and Cas exchanged looks. "You aren't going to like it."

Jeyne glared at Cas first, then Sam. "Try me," she dared.

"We have a book of spells—very dark and ancient magic. Extremely powerful... The Book of the Damned."

"The what?! Sam, you can't be serious?"

"I am," he said nonchalantly.

"Spells from that book not only need a very powerful caster but they come at great cost."

Sam met her eyes, indifference in them. "I know that."

"I want Dean safe too but this is not the right way to go about it—this plan stinks three ways to Sunday."

"I don't see any alternative, Jeyne," Castiel said reluctantly. "We've spent months researching a way to get the Mark removed and this is the only solid solution we have been able to conjure."

"No, Cas—not you too! You're supposed to be the sensible one."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news but this the only way. You once said, 'Look, we get it back and if there are complications then we'll figure out a way to deal with those, too'."

"That was when we got Sam's soul back. The only consequences it brought were the barriers breaking down, allowing him to remember the torture. You broke them down, as I recall, Castiel."

"Guys, this is all been forgiven a long time ago," Sam cut in.

"That's all fine and dandy but that does not take away from the fact that this spell could be dangerous not only for a lot of people but for Dean, himself." Jeyne fumed. "Are you willing to sacrifice that for one person? Isn't the saying supposed to be, 'The needs of the few outweigh the many?"

"I'm ready to sacrifice what I can to save my brother!"

"You would sacrifice innocent lives?!" Jeyne stood abruptly to her feet, throwing her hands in the air.

"Yes, I am Jeyne," Sam replied in kind. "He's my brother."

Jeyne turned on Sam, who stood quickly, and she jabbed her finger in his direction. "Samuel John Winchester, you need to get your head checked. Perhaps get Clarence over there to join you! I get you want to save Dean, and I've tried to help you each and every other time that something horrible has befallen him. But the Sam I knew would never do something as reckless. Sacrificing our own well beings is ok but a potential massacre of innocents in God knows what numbers is absolutely insane! At least you will never find a being powerful enough to cast the spell."

Sam turned his torso to meet Castiel's eyes slowly. Jeyne saw the interaction and, if possible, her fury grew greater. Hey eyes darkened dangerously. "Actually..." Sam said slowly, cautiously. But the damage had been done.

The silence was deafening. The tension in the air was palpable. If there was one thing Sam learned was Jeyne's fury was as great as Dean's, sometimes greater. However, Dean usually verbally expressed his anger, and often physically. Jeyne's silence was deadly.

After a long silence, Jeyne asked: "Who?" She whispered that single word, filled with venom.

Sam swallowed hard. "Rowena."

Jeyne shook slightly but didn't move otherwise. You could feel the anger radiating like heat off of her skin. She had only heard of the infamous witch in passing what she heard was bad. "You're truly out of your mind. Not only are you willing to sacrifice people but you're getting her to do it! Are you an idiot? Have you truly flung yourself from your rocker? You do realize the only person who is benefiting from this is the bitch witch, right?"

"Jeyne, listen to me, please!" Sam pleaded. The woman who he loved like family snatched her jacket from the chair upon which she had been seated and stormed for the door. Her duffel bag had been left at the bottom of the staircase: Her first priority had been food and coffee when she came in, insisting on being shown to her room after she had heard what needed to be told. She was relieved that this nor worked to her advantage for a quick escape.

"I'll listen to you when you've come to your senses; when you kill Rowena and throw that damned book to the bottom of the Marianas Trench."

"Wait! Please, Jeyne!"

"I'm going home, Winchester. Hopefully I'll outrun what apocalypse you're about to bring on... Give Dean my love."

The door of the bunker slammed shut behind her and the sound rang through to every inch of the compound. Sam turned to Castiel, running a hand through his hair.

"Perhaps we should not have told her everything." Cas's voice was soft.

"Yeah, you don't think?" Sam sighed heavily. "I'm going after her."

Castiel's hand shot out and firmly grasped Sam's forearm. "Don't," he said sternly. "She will come to her senses once she's had enough to think it over."

"What if she doesn't?"

There was a short moment of silence where they stared at each other. He nodded at him with understanding. Castiel let him go.