"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Jordan told the boys as she rolled her eyes away from them, staring off in the opposite direction.
She was starting to wonder why she had even let the two into her home. Oh right, they were good looking. Never mind the fact that they could have been killers!
"You want me to go with you where, and to do what?" She had to ask again since it all sounded so stupid the first time. Though, the second time was no different.
Driving around the country chasing demons, only to salt and burn them? They must have escaped from a mental ward she reasoned with herself. And here she was letting them in without a care in the world. Way to go Jordan.
"Listen, my brother's not so good at explaining things to people," Sam told her giving a side-glance to Dean as he said his name. "Especially things of this nature. You'd think he'd catch on by now, but no." He said slightly under his breath while still staring over at the shorthaired brunette next to him.
"Wait, you're trying to tell me there is a better way to tell someone you fight demons, and out of that rust bucket out there?" She spat at Sam, pointing out the bay window to the car on the street.
"A '67 Impala is not a rust bucket," Dean interjected. "And I keep her in good condition." He told her with a cookie in hand.
"Her?" Jordan asked cocking an eyebrow over at the shorter, but in her opinion, better looking of the two. Even if he did seem dimwitted.
"OK," Sam said interrupting the two of them and holding a hand up in the air to each. "We don't have time for this. Listen, something is after you whether you like it or not. You don't have to believe me, but if you don't you'll be dead by nightfall. And frankly, I couldn't live with that on my conscious knowing it happened just because you are too bullheaded to believe me." Man she was starting to remind him of Dean. Oh wouldn't this be a fun car ride back to Bobby's?
"I still don't understand how you know this, or why you really care." She voiced to Sam, softening her regard.
She couldn't help but drop her head into her hands at this point; they'd been at this for over an hour and it still made no more sense then it had when the boys had first entered. The clock overhead chimed four, only stating loudly that Jordan's window of opportunity was closing quickly in front of her, about to slam shut in more ways than one.
"I don't know how else to explain it too you, Jordan." Sam told her in a sigh. "We've been doing this since we were kids, we know when something's not right –" He started to clarify for her, but was interrupted by Dean.
"Yeah, and Sam has these vision thingies," He said squinting one eye more then the other giving Jordan an odd face as he pointed up at his own head to indicate where Sam's specialty came from. "That tells him when something ain't kosher." Dean finished, telling her point blank as he grabbed another cookie from the tray before them, shoving it into his mouth.
Sam gave Dean a sharp quick look and a poke in the side with his elbow. Subtlety was something Dean had never mastered, and probably never would come to understand.
"This just keeps getting better and better." Jordan added, sighing herself. "I think you two should leave." She told the brothers standing up before them. "I can't handle this right now, and besides, you're starting to give me a headache."
She placed her thumb and forefinger on opposite sides of her nose to get her point across. The pinching did little to relieve the pain, but the boys seemed to get the hint as they finally removed themselves from her living room and headed for the hallway … slowly.
"Jordan–" Sam started to protest at the front door as she urged them on.
"Sam, please." She placed one hand across her forehead and the other out in front in the tall, lengthy man. "Please just go." It was more begging than demanding now. She just wanted to be left alone. "You guys seem nice and all," She told Sam. "But you're just to weird for my taste and I'm not into this kind of stuff." She added, shaking her head as she scrunched up her face, making a final end to her statement.
Dean stood behind Sam with a handful of cookies, and an even bigger cheek full.
"Hey this stuff it real. I hate to have tell you this, but the things in the dark are real too." He somehow managed to spit out while still chewing.
With those last words, Jordan shut the front door in their faces.
"Dean, you have got to stop using that line with every hunt we come across." Sam complained as he turned to walk down to where the car was parked.
"It worked on that kid at the motel back in Wisconsin." He whined very so slightly.
"Can you seriously compare Wisconsin to California, and a thirteen year-old boy to a female college student?"
"Well I was trying too, but you don't seem to want to let me. Mister 'Know-It-All.'"
"Seriously, how can we be related?" Sam asked himself out loud as he jerked his side of the car open and sighed deeply.
"It's easy. Dad totally went all 'Barry White' with Mom and poof-" He said gesturing the motion with his hands.
"Poof?"
"Poof," Dean continued. "You were born." He stated to Sam, as he slid in behind the steering wheel. "You know, for the longest time I begged them to tell you that you were adopted." He chuckled to himself, thinking back.
"Your such an asshole."
"And your Mary Poppins."
"What?" Sam asked confused as they pulled away from the curb.
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Jordan let the curtain fall back in place as she watched the two boys load them selves into the black, muscle car outside. As the Impala's engine roared to life she shook her head, stepping away from the window and turning to retreat into the darker corners of the house.
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It was many hours later as the Winchester boys sat outside the dated structure of the old Victorian house that Jordan Harris now occupied. As the car stereo clicked over to signal ten o'clock Dean looked up into the lit bedroom window once again.
"We don't even know what we're up against." He complained. "That doesn't happen very often, and to be honest," He confessed. "It makes me a little uneasy."
Sam flipped John's journal open as he listened to Dean rattle on. His words made Sam feel even guiltier that he had not been able to pull anything else useful from his nightmare. They were lucky he was clever enough to piece together the items that had brought them to where they were now. Anyone else and Jordan would be dead one way or another.
"Sam, are you listening to me?" Dean asked, snapping his fingering in front of his younger brother's face.
"Yes, and I really wish you would stop doing that." Sam voiced, waving Dean's hand away. "Look at this." Sam told the older boy as he pointed down at one of the many ratty sheets of paper in their father's collection. "Is it just me, or does this picture look an awful lot that that house?" He asked as they both stared down into the photograph and than up at the looming structure through Dean's side window.
As Dean stayed transfixed on Jordan's window yet again, Sam read the caption out loud that was scribbled under the image.
"In 1895, seven years after the construction was finished on the house, an all girls school was opened up inside its doors."
"See Dude, I told you. House full of girls." Dean teased grinning from ear to ear.
Sam ignored him and read on.
"Only six months into the new year and tragedy befell the small group of five girls that now lived within its rooms when a fire raged throughout the lower half of the building."
"Oh, well that's just beautiful. So you're telling me we're dealing with five spirits and not just one stupid demon?" He chuckled uneasily. "God! Sometimes I hate this job." He bitched, shaking the steering wheel in anger.
Sam glanced over at him raising an eyebrow before asking his next question.
"So let me guess, the thought of possibly dying tonight is finally getting to you?"
"Dude, I don't want to die at the hand of some dead, pre-pubescent eleven year-old girl."
"Why are you afraid your tombstone will read, 'Here lies Dean Winchester, we're sorry he couldn't run fast enough?'"
"Ha ha …" He replied highly annoyed now.
"Anyway … No, it says all but one girl was able to escape." He told Dean scanning down the page again. "Claire Davis. A twelve year-old orphan transferred from San Francisco three weeks before her death."
"Why do I have a feeling it wasn't the fire that killed her?" Dean asked as he continued listening.
"It says here that she confided in the Head Mistress several times in her short stay that the other girls were bullying her."
"So they killed her?"
"They never found any evidence pining Claire's death on anyone or anything other then the fire." Sam read off the last bit of information.
"OK, well one spirit I can deal with." Dean told Sam glancing up at the house as he caught sight of the last light being extinguished. "I think that's our cue." He gestured to Sam as he opened his side of the car and stepped out.
Sam followed suit as his brother moved around to the back of the Impala and slipped the key into the lock of the trunk. Lifting it open Dean grabbed the nearest shotgun and shoved it up underneath the lid to keep it fully elevated. It helped, since he was tired of it slamming shut on his head.
Withdrawing the rock salt gun and handing Sam the gasoline can full of the same material, Dean rummaged through the other items before pocketing one or two smaller objects and slamming the trunk shut.
"Now we wait quietly outside." Dean told Sam.
"And just what were we doing before?"
"Waiting bored inside the car." Dean stated as they moved around to the backside of the house and out of sight.
"They really broke the mold when they made you, you know that right?" Sam asked him.
"That's cause I'm special." The eldest boy voiced as he took in their surroundings.
"You're special all right." Sam replied sarcastically.
Now all they could do was wait.