Chapter Three

The first rays of morning sunshine were peeking through the blinds when Jess awakened beside her fiancé. Slowly she sat up, rubbing the tension from her neck as she stole a glance at the empty spot on the bed where Sam should have been sleeping. No surprise that he was up already; he'd always been an early riser, and considering the stress he was going through, he'd probably already been awake for hours. Sighing, Jess pulled aside her blankets, grabbed her robe, and made her way to the kitchen.

Sure enough, Sam and Dean were already awake, each nursing mugs of coffee and looking as if they'd hadn't had a solid night's rest in years. Jess noted that, for all his bravado, Dean looked nearly as bad as he had when he'd first arrived months earlier, when he'd finally admitted he had cancer. And this is how they grew up, she thought sadly, watching as the two men in her life read through newspapers, texts. Sam was scrolling through an article on his laptop, occasionally sipping from his mug of now lukewarm coffee before returning to his reading. In any other setting it would look as if he were researching for a paper, or scrolling the internet for job opportunities. Not searching for info on demons. Once again, she felt a pang of pity for the pair. The night before, after dropping the bombshell that, for the most part, the supernatural crap she'd seen in cheesy horror movies was real, Sam had confided in the shitty childhood he and Dean had had. Sitting on the edge of their bed, Jess wiped the moisture from her eyes as the man she loved shared of how his mom had really died. She'd known Mary Winchester had died in a house fire, but not much else. She'd shuddered in spite of herself to hear of how she'd been pinned to the ceiling, already dying slowly from the slash across her abdomen, before bursting into flame. She'd heard of how Sam's dad had raised his boys to hunt monsters, and how Dean had shielded his little brother from the truth until he was eight; how the boys were basically raised in crappy motels in all corners of the United States while John was away on hunts, and how money had gotten tight at least once a month. She'd nearly wept to hear of the many occasions Dean would go hungry so that Sam would have something to eat. Jess had felt overwhelmed with gratitude, and an even deeper respect and love for her brother-in-law.

When Sam had finally finished, Jess had been openly crying. Slowly, she drew him in for a hug, massaging the tension from his shoulders as warm, salty tears gently dampened his button down. And that night, when the hours slipped away without sleep, she was haunted by images of a little, curly haired boy eating a peanut butter sandwich from the last slices of stale bread while his older brother spooned some of the remaining spread from the nearly empty jar. Hours later, when finally sheer exhaustion led her into fitful sleep, she dreamed of fire, blood, and that same little curly haired boy, sitting alone, huddled in blankets, surrounded by the very things which killed his mother.

"Morning."

Dean's gravelly voice snapped Jess back to reality. Yawning, the young woman returned the greeting with the same lack of enthusiasm and headed for the cupboard for a mug. "You guys been awake long?" she asked, reaching for the carafe and pouring what little was left into her cup.

"Couple hours."

Jess nodded, leaning against the cupboard as she sipped her coffee and made a slight face. The stuff was disgusting, obviously at least a few hours old. But it was hot and caffeinated, so she sipped her drink and watched as her men continued to research. "Find anything?"

"No, not really," Sam replied, pushing his chair back and stretching. "In fact, there seems to be a lull in demonic activity. The calm before the storm, that kinda thing. I have a really bad feeling the demon knows we're on to him."

"You think it's laying low?"

Sam sighed. "Looks like."

"Great. Just fucking peachy." The Winchesters stared at her, surprised by how just like Dean she had sounded there, but Jess ignored them. "So, what do you suggest? Go back to normal? Hope the thing's gone?"

The brothers exchanged glances and Jessica sighed. "Spill it, boys. I just found out not twenty-four hours earlier that monsters are real and that my fiancé has been hunting them for practically all his life. Bring it."

Dean cleared his throat, obviously looking uncomfortable. "Um, Jess, these guys are really patient. If they want their guy, they will do whatever it takes to get it. Not to mention it's, well…" Jess nodded, knowing full well what Dean was about to say. November 2nd was a few days away. The anniversary of their mother's death. Which meant…

"Oh." She looked down at her barely touched coffee, no longer interested in finishing it. "So we think you should kinda lay low for a few days. At least until after the 2nd."

"Dean, I can't just stay here. I have to work tonight."

"Call in sick."

"Tell that to my boss. He's a hard ass as it is and I already used up my sick leave when I had the flu last month."

"Jess…"

"I can't just drop everything, you know. I have a life. And I refuse to let this demon or whatever the hell it is keep me from living it, ok? I'm going to work tonight."

"You don't get it, Jessica! This thing is very dangerous! It killed my mother, not to mention god knows how many others. If it finds you, it will kill you because you're connected to us! So get off your fucking high horse for just one goddamned minute and understand that we are trying to save your ass!" For a minute, Jessica stared at Dean, overwhelmed with anger. How dare he talk to her like that! At the other end of the room, Dean was also seeing red, frustrated by how little Jessica seemed to be taking the situation seriously. And beside him, Sam was struggling between the need to punch his brother in the face for the way he had yelled at her and shaking Jess for being so stubborn and hopelessly naïve.

After a few tense moments, Dean looked down, obviously embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "It's just that this is a very dangerous situation, and it needs to be taken seriously. I get that you have a life, but if that demon lays so much as a finger on you, I'd never forgive myself." At that, Jess visibly softened, her own anger under control. "I understand," she said softly. "I get that you care for me, need to protect me. But you have to realize that I just can't drop everything on a dime like you can. I have classes, commitments, friends who aren't going to understand when I go off the grid." She sighed, setting her untouched coffee on the counter top. "But I don't really have a choice, don't I?" She looked at Sam, who shook his head sadly. "No, honey, not really. I don't want to do this, either. But it's only for a little while. Until we get the demon."

"I'm sorry we have to do this, Jess," Dean continued gently. Jess nodded, blinking away the tears which threatened to spill. She hated the fact that she was on the verge of bawling like a baby. She wasn't the one with the shitty childhood, after all. What Sam and Dean had gone through growing up was something she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. What right had she to cry, she who had had the stereotypical perfect American dream type childhood? She'd had the perfect suburban life, with cookouts and trips to summer camp and Saturdays at the mall with her friends. She'd had the huge Thanksgiving dinners and Christmases with the entire clan at her Nannie and Poppy's place. Sam and Dean had not even had birthdays, other than the few Dean had managed to scrounge for his little brother when he was old enough. Enough with the pity part, Moore. It's only temporary.

"Okay, so what's the plan?"

"We wait here for a few days, see if the demon really is gone, of if it's just a ruse. As soon as it's safe, we'll take you to your parent's place. You said something about them vacationing in Florida, right?" Jess nodded slowly, shuddering at the thought of leaving warm, sunny California for her parent's home in Vermont. "Yeah, they spend the winter there. Have their own condo."

"Perfect. We can ward the place and everything without having to worry."

Jessica sighed, listening as the Winchester brothers began making plans for their cross country trip to Fairfax. She had her own preparations to do for this new so called adventure: she had to somehow get a leave of absence from work or, with any luck, arrange for a transfer. Demon or now, there was no way Jessica Moore was going to sit on her ass doing absolutely nothing for god knows how long. She had to withdraw from her semester at Stanford, pack up the apartment. The wedding would have to be postponed. Granted, Sam had proposed only a month earlier, but Jess, in all the excitement of the event, had already booked the venue for the ceremony and reception. The odds were (though it was possible it was only wishful thinking) that this mess would be over long before the date, but Sam had told her gently the night before that it would be best to put the wedding plans on hold for a bit. Swallowing the lump forming beneath her throat, Jess put on a brave face. It was by now long past sunrise, and she had a feeling her boys were hungry. Wiping her eyes on final time with the back of her sleeve, Jessica Moore rummaged through the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, bacon, and pancake fixings. Well, Jess. This looks like your new life. Better get used to it.

XXX

Lucy Barlow looked at the man before her, trying to fight the panic as she stood pinned to the wall of her apartment. The man with the strange, yellow eyes stood a few feet ahead of her, toying with the blade in his hand. "Lucy, Lucy, Lucy," he tisked, slowly walking in her direction. "I thought we had a deal. You tell me where the Moore girl is, and you get that scholarship to Oxford you've been pining for." Terrified, Lucy stared at the stranger, unable to move. She hadn't really believed the man when he'd approached her with his bargain. Sure, she'd been dying to attend the prestigious institution from the moment she'd first dreamed of becoming a professor of ancient history back in the eleventh grade. But she hadn't really believed the man would actually hurt Jessica Moore. If anything, Lucy had assumed he was a relative of hers, long out of touch and looking to reconnect. Now, staring into those horrific, pale yellow eyes, Lucy Barlow was terrified not only for her life, but of her friend's.

The man was now visibly impatient. "We had a deal," he sneered. You tell me where Jessica Moore is, and I just might let you live. You don't? I'll make sure you're awake to feel the guts slowly spill onto the floor." As if to prove a point, the stranger gently pointed the tip of his blade just above the waist of her jeans. Fighting the urge to scream, Lucy winced at the cold steel against her bare stomach, the blade slightly cutting into her skin as he drew it upwards, sliding it up to gently press against the edge of her white knit crop top. "So what's it gonna be, sweetheart?"

"Vermont," she gasped, trembling in terror. "She grew up in Fairfax. Said something about her parents spending the winters down south. Please, don't kill me." The demon drew the knife away, smiling slightly. "Good girl."