McClary left, leaving the brothers to contemplate the next few hours.
"I've gotta find Maggie." Dean said. He was tiring. He needed to sleep before the shit hit the fan, but Maggie needed his support right now, whether she realized it or not.
Sam had to stay put as well. He was starting to feel the reality of his own condition. "Dean, if you need me, you know...to back you up in convincing her—"
Dean nodded and left.
She was in the lounge, sitting cross-legged in one of those miserable chairs. He dropped heavily into the one beside her. ''Maggie...please hear me out. I know Daniel was a good person. This thing that's happening...it's not his fault. It doesn't make him a monster...he's just really hurting and angry. Christ, I know how f—ked up this sounds...but I can help him find the peace he deserves. We can't bring him back, but we can release him from his anguish."
She refused to look at him, but fresh tears slid down her cheeks and she shook with the effort of her composure. "That's not my Danny."
"You're right, it's not. He never would have done anything violent in life. But his life was stolen from him, Maggie...and the circumstances were so unjust, so wrong...that he can't get past it. Can you understand that?"
She was silent for a few moments. "You...you think you can help him? God, this is so unreal, I can't believe I'm even talking about it. But what you said, and the way those others are dying…..and what happened to him...it actually makes a sick kind of sense. I must be losing my mind."
"You're not losing your mind, Maggie. This is a pretty hard concept for normal people. Me and Sam, we see this sort of thing, and a hell of a lot worse, all the time. We look for it, try to fix it. My Dad started, when my mom was taken by something evil. He taught us, he brought us into this. So yeah...we can help Daniel. We know how. Maggie...you just have to let go of what you think is real, and open yourself to the idea that there are other aspects, other sides, to reality. Can you do that?"
She looked down for several minutes, finally meeting his eyes and nodding. "I guess so.. But please, Dean...help him. Make him find his peace." Her composure crumbled completely and he held her until her sobbing subsided.
"Trust me, ok…?"
She decided that did.
Sam took the opportunity to sleep while they waited for their cue. Dean went back with Maggie for the same reason. She wouldn't let him return to the fleabag. She finally got him a decent meal, as the last nourishment he had was that chocolate bar and he was really running on fumes. She'd have loved to forget the world for a while under his touch, but he was so exhausted that he found his place on the arm of the couch again, and she didn't have the heart to wake him. She draped a blanket over him and lay down on her bed alone.
At four o'clock, both were shocked awake by the call. Maggie was first to regain her clarity and she handed the phone to Dean. It was McClary. He was prepared to go ahead with the sting. He instructed Dean to come out to the camp and meet in the parking lot. From there he would call Jessup and convince him to meet at the clearing, or rather, at the un-specified burial site. He was to identify himself as the guy who 'repented' two days before. And to say that he knew about Dan Williams. That oughta be enough to pull him out of his snake-hole— Dean mused.
Dean agreed and prepared to meet McClary asap. Jeff Reigert would be taken into custody and Dean would be fitted with his wire. Sounded simple enough.
"Show-time, Maggie." he said.
She could see the tension in his features. "Dean...are you, I mean...well, are you strong enough for this?"
It was the second time he'd heard that particular phrase. He didn't appreciate it any more this time around. He was reminded that he had yet to take his brother to task about that earlier, humiliating exchange with Jessup, before he laid into Dean..That alone was worth an ass-kicking. He kissed her forehead. "I'll be fine."
She really wanted to go with him. The thought of maybe seeing her Danny, even in this strange way, was terribly compelling. But McClary wouldn't have it, the risk was too great. Jessup was an armed and skilled adversary. They could not justify endangering any one else.
"I'll call you, I promise." Dean said, as he left.
She would keep a tense vigil by the phone for the rest of the evening.
Dean stopped by the hospital briefly on the way. Sam was nervously expecting him and it was a pain in the ass that cells didn't work in the building. Dean discussed the plan with him, reiterating his assertion that he'd be fine, and he'd call when it was over. He didn't kiss him.
Back on the road, he went over the scenario as it should play out. He had his gun in his belt, but since this time he was working hand in hand with the authorities he was reluctant to reveal it or use it. He didn't need to complicate his own precarious situation by being scrutinized for having an illegal weapon. But then again, dead was worse. Better safe than sorry. He wished he was in better shape. Jessup was quick, surprisingly so. He'd already found that out the hard way twice, and Dean himself was stiff, slow and sore. Kind of a lousy match. He was uncharacteristically dreading the whole thing.
Pulling into the camp parking lot, he was reminded that the pop-can car was still there. He thought he'detter get it back soon. He saw the group of unmarked cars. It didn't help his state of mind, he had to keep reminding himself that they were on his side this time. The urge to floor it in the opposite direction was so powerful he had to force himself to keep his foot off the gas. He pulled up beside McClary just as two other policemen emerged from the office with a bitter looking Jeff Reigert handcuffed between them. Dean glanced at him and smiled grimly. He and the sheriff left their cars and headed to the office.
"You still ok to do this?" McClary demanded.
Dean assured him that he was. He was fitted with his recording device, they tested it successfully, and he and the sheriff went over the fine points of the operation. The sheriff already had things set up by the clearing. Sam had directed him to its location. They'd identified the grave location and retrieved Randy's body earlier.
"Defibrillator?" Dean asked.
The sheriff nodded with some irritation. He had agreed to that but he still felt it was a waste of time to lug it there. "Ready to make that call, son?"
Dean dialed in answer. His conversation with Jessup was brief. He agreed to meet him where Daniel Williams body was hidden. No location was discussed, that was the first coup. The bastard had already implicated himself.
McClary and his chosen men left to take up their positions. Dean was left alone beside Danny's grave. He paced and fidgeted, nervously scanning for Jessup's arrival. He tried to stretch a little, hoping to gain a bit of flexibility, but it only resulted in awakening the aches he'd been steadfastly ignoring. He wanted to have a quiet conversation with the occupant of the grave, but with the wire he was reluctant to come across as a bloody lunatic.
The wait was driving him nuts. He sighed with impatience. His back hurt, he wished there was something to sit on. A rustling, a crunching of forest litter, snapped him to attention. The leafy undergrowth was pushed aside and Jessup entered the clearing. He was alone. "So it is you." he sneered. "What, you didn't get enough last time?"
Dean kept the dialogue good and clear. "You mean when you beat the crap out of me in the cell the other day? Well, I decided to forgive you for that."
Jessup came forward and stood uncomfortably close to Dean. His hands were free, hovering over his holster and club. "Well...thanks so much. I can't tell you what that means to me. And to what do I owe your generosity?"
Dean smiled without humour. "I figure you might wanna show how grateful you are that I don't turn you in for murdering Daniel Williams. That's him in that hole behind me, isn't it?"
Jessup's eyes hardened, but he kept his easy expression. "Well, I don't know what you're talking about, queer-boy." He reached down casually and picked up a handful of small stones. He examined one as if it held his interest, and suddenly flicked it at Dean.
Dean flinched, unable to hide the quick pain the motion caused.
"Still hurting, are we?" Jessup asked with a smile. He threw another stone, with the same result. "You shouldn't be out here. Shoulda stayed in bed with your boyfriend."
He pegged Dean with a third stone. It was distracting, irritating...Dean was forced into revealing his weakness and he couldn't stop it.
"Quit doing that!" Dean growled. "I have Randy Jarvis's confession recorded, so don't piss me off!"
That stopped the deputy cold. "What are you talking about?"
"Your little protégé spilled his guts to my buddy. Got it all on digital. He told him about how they beat up Williams, and how you finished that job. And how he died at your hands because of it. Why do you think we're standing here now? Randy Jarvis told him exactly where his body was."
The nonchalant attitude evaporated. "Bullshit. Prove it!"
"I don't have to prove it. The fact that we're standing here talking about it is proof. And I want compensation for what you did to me. You remember...you said I was convicted of deviance, of blasphemy, and that you were gonna make me atone for it. You cuffed me to the cell bars and beat the shit out of me. You owe me, and I want payment."
Jessup wasn't smiling anymore. "Guess I stopped a little short then, didn't I? I shoulda finished what I started. You don't sound very repentant to me. You know, that Williams kid repented all the way to hell."
Dean sneered. "Well, you may have put poor weak Danny into his grave, but I'm still here. So what's my silence worth to you? What are you gonna do for me?"
Jessup eyed him sourly. "What am I gonna do for you? Well...how about this?"
Jessup threw his last stone at Dean. It caught him off guard and again he flinched, and he couldn't react fast enough as the deputy drew his gun with lightning speed and fired.
Dean stumbled in his haste to get out of the cross-hairs. He felt the bullet tear through his forearm as he landed heavily in the leafy undergrowth. The impact crunched his injured ribs, leaving him breathless and momentarily fighting off a roaring blackness. Clutching his arm to his chest, he rolled onto his side, desperate to clear his mind of the pain so that he could react to what was unfolding.
"FREEZE!" he heard. "Drop the gun and get your hands up!"
Dean stayed still as Jessup swore but kept his weapon trained on him. "Don't make me shoot him again, McClary! You come any closer and I will!" Jessup moved forward slowly and grabbed Dean by the collar, hauling him to his knees and pressing his gun to his temple. Dean struggled against his hold, and tried to kick the big man's feet out from under him, but Jessup growled and tightened his grip on the shirt, pressing the gun harder against his head. "Stay still or I'll blow your goddamned head off!" he growled.
Jessup knew he was done. The only avenue he had open to him now was to use Dean as a hostage and flee. McClary and his men had weapons trained on the deputy, but they dared not take the risk while that well-trained hand held a gun to his victim. Jessup dragged Dean to his feet and backed away. His gun was unwavering in his hand. No one, especially Dean, dared to make a move.
The stand-off would have continued for many more tense minutes, but something strange happened. A mist...thin and cold, had begun to gather between the two sides. McClary saw it but it didn't register. Dean saw it and he understood.
But for Jessup's eyes, it took form. Daniel Williams, or some terrible incarnation of him, materialized in front of the deputy. Dean felt the grip loosen momentarily.
"No! No, this isn't possible!" Jessup mumbled, his voice rising to a higher pitch with his increasing panic. "I saw you die! I put you in the ground, goddamn it!"
Daniel didn't reply. He moved silently closer to his adversary.
Jessup's heart was racing. He turned the gun toward the apparition and screamed, as Dean twisted away from him and rolled free. Jessup was whimpering now, clutching his chest as his heart began to beat erratically. He frantically tried to push away the phantom hand that reached toward him, as the others looked on in confused alarm. The gun dropped from his nerveless hand and he fell to his knees, mere seconds away from the threat of being drilled through by the bullets of the tense lawmen watching the scene.
"Get away from me!" he choked out. It would be his last words before keeling over and convulsing as his heart was stilled. Daniel's mist dissipated
A shocked McClary snapped to action, grabbing the defibrillator and racing to the fallen man. Another policeman pulled Dean safely away as the sheriff worked feverishly to restore a pulse to the undeserving deputy. He was successful. His heart resumed its normal healthy pace. The devil was cheated, and for now, the hell awaiting him would be a federal prison. Jessup sat up, shocked and fearful. He started babbling to anyone near, did they see it? —the spirit that had tried to take him?- He was sure that his god had saved him from that evil.
McClary and another policeman carried the deluded deputy by his arms and feet a short distance, until his bruised dignity couldn't stand it anymore, and he preferred himself to be cuffed so that he could save his pride and walk shakily out under his own power. He felt it more befitting of a man of his character. He paused in front of Dean, who sat hunched under a blanket as someone tended to his bloodied arm.
"You'll go to hell for this, boy, you and all the other sinners! I have the will of God on my side!
"You think so?" Dean growled. He hauled himself to his feet, throwing the blanket aside in fury. "Well, you'll see a judgment day long before I ever will! …And by the way—" Dean drew his good arm back and punched Jessup full in the face. He stood over him where he sat stunned in the dirt. "You are convicted of being an asshole!"
The officers standing nearby probably should have intervened. But none did. A sputtering and bleeding Jessup was led away as Dean felt firm but gentle hands force him back down to have his first aid completed. The paramedic smirked, but he barked at Dean to sit still.
Dean watched as he wiped the remaining blood away and cleaned and bandaged the wound. Not too bad- he thought. Hurt like a bitch, though. Most of the damage was across the surface, the bullet only entered at the end of the graze, travelling under the skin for just an inch before exiting again. He guessed eight stitches, tops...not counting those he'd have to use to fix his shirt. The medic attempted to check his back when he had finished with the bandaging, but Dean knocked his hand away. He was impatient to leave this place.
The man sighed with exasperation. "Look, if you want me to let you drive your car to the hospital, I have to at least check you out, alright? It's my ass on the line here if you pass out and drive into a tree, and I can just as easily insist that you go in the ambulance, pal. That's right-lights, sirens, the works. A real spectacle…"
"Fine!" Dean snapped. He undid his shirt and let him see.
The medic removed the bandage and checked him over. "Looks ok. Well, not worse, anyway. You'll need another wrap for those ribs. Do you want me to do that now?"
Dean shrugged. He was tapping his foot with agitation. "Whatever you think, just hurry up, will you?"
Several of the officers had glanced over. They already knew the story, but it was never a comfortable thing to have to arrest one of their own. Seeing the evidence now of Jessup's sick personal crusade marked so brutally on this man, they were assured beyond doubt that this was justice.
As soon as he was treated, Dean made a bee-line for the Impala. Once inside that sanctuary, he sat in exhaustion, with his right arm and head resting against the steering wheel. He closed his eyes to settle himself. He needed a drink. He needed a lot of them. His body was screaming protests that he was beaten, tired, and now bleeding. He just wanted a twenty-sixer of bourbon and a bed.
He was startled out of his state by the passenger door opening. Sheriff McClary sat down beside him and closed the door. "How are you doing? he asked.
"Just a nick, it's nothing." Dean answered nervously.
"And the other injuries?"
"I'll be fine, Sheriff."
McClary nodded. "Good." He sighed then, and paused before speaking further. "Dean, I want to apologize on behalf of this county. Your experience with my deputy was pretty damn brutal. But I have to say, I'm also kinda glad it happened, because it exposed this cancer in my office. I really had no idea, and I should have. Jessup came across as a good, reliable lawman. When I was asked to teach the course at the college, I knew it would take me away from my duties, but I really thought he was a good fit." He shook his head ruefully, and sighed. "Christ. I've got a real deep mess on my hands. Gonna take a while to sort it out. Daniel Williams...you...and who knows what the hell else Jessup was up to."
Dean would have appreciated the sheriff's words under different circumstances, but his tension was growing by the minute. He felt the sheriff was leading up to something and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what was coming.
The Sheriff continued. "You sure called that need for that defib kit, son. I thought you were nuts, going on about spirits and revenge from beyond and such. I really don't know what the hell happened here today. But regardless of my ignorance. you knew it was coming. You knew it was gonna play out like those other deaths. I'm finding it hard to write you off as delusional under the circumstances…" The sheriff paused, rubbed a hand over his brow and continued. "But if I bring the whole damned supernatural angle into this investigation, internal affairs is gonna seriously think I've lost it. And I really don't want to jeopardize our case against Jessup. I'm pretty much knee-deep in shit here."
Dean was starting to feel a little nauseous. He wished McClary would finish his little discussion and let him leave. Like now.
"Son...you can see, I'm sure, that the last thing I need is more complications in this case. But here's the thing…."
He'd been looking out the windshield while he'd been speaking, but he turned now and met Dean's eyes. "I know who you are, Dean Winchester. You and your brother."