AU in which Jess lived.
Sometimes, at night. Jess would sit with the armchair pulled up to the window, looking out onto the street below, the lamps throwing sickly looking pools of light on the pavements and, instead of illuminating the neighborhood, they only exacerbated the darkness in the shadows beyond.
She'd sit and smoke.
One cigarette after another.
Sam didn't like her to smoke, but when he was away she did as she pleased.
She'd already told him. "I don't smoke when you're here..so stay… don't go…"
But he always did.
Ten years since Dean had come knocking in the night.
Ten years since Sam had given up his dreams of becoming a lawyer. But she had loved him and promised to stay with him no matter what…. But she hadn't understood.
Not really.
In the bedrooms beyond their children lay sleeping.
Mary and Ellen.
Twins who had their mothers eyes and who hardly knew the father who's mouth they shared.
They wouldn't hunt. She wouldn't allow it, but he'd already said no anyway. He'd rather never see the girls than pull them into hunting.
But she was afraid they would.
Mary was already learning how to shoot when he was about, and Ellen had a taste for the macabre that worried Jess, worried her that it was in their blood, that it would find them anyway.
She pulled her knees up tight to her chest and poured herself a little whiskey, lit another cigarette.
Jess felt old.
Shut away like some dark fairy tale princess, in this house that had devils traps under the rugs and salt lines on the window sills, she was so lonely.
She felt like one of those military wives, constantly waiting.
Waiting for them to come home.
Waiting for the precious few phone calls.
Waiting for someone to turn up on her door step and say "I'm so sorry..."
"You left the door open.."
She turned to see him standing there, lazily taking his coat off and draping it over the back of the chair.
Jess smiled wearily. "Silly me."
He held out his hand and she went to him, half happy, half ashamed.
The demon took her face in his hands and kissed her slowly.
He tasted like ash and she knew she deserved it.
As he lay her on the bed, as he'd done a hundred times before, in the back of her mind she sent out a silent plea.
Come home Sam, come home.
