Disclaimer: Neither Jordan nor I own Supernatural.

A/N: Lyn: Yay, another chap!

Jordan: Like half of which we wrote on the phone and it took two hours because I had to write by hand and then read it off for Lyn to type…

Lyn: Good thing I type 140wpm, I guess.

Jordan: Yes. And so because of all the hard work on this chap, you must review! You're obligated or something!

Chapter Nine – Unveiling

It was well after two in the morning, and last call at Harvelle's had been more than two hours ago. Lyn and Jordan had helped Wendy and Jo clean up, and everyone had crashed before one. Well, almost everyone.

Lyn pulled a pen and piece of paper from her duffel, sighing quietly. The blue ink glistened but dried quickly as she wrote in a neat script,

Wendy and Jo,

We are both really sorry about everything since we showed up. We would have said goodbye before we left, but were afraid you might try to stop us. But we can't stay here any longer if people are after us. Please understand, and don't worry – we'll be fine.

Lyn and Jordan

She left the paper on the bar and then shouldered her duffel again and silently exited the Roadhouse. After climbing into the passenger seat of the Impala, she sighed and looked sideways at Jordan. "Okay, let's go. At least now they'll know we weren't dragged off in our sleep or something, we owe them that much."

Jordan sighed and opened the driver's side door. "Let's get out of here, then…"

"We're good on gas, right?" Lyn questioned, raising her right eyebrow. "We don't need to have to stop for at least a couple of towns, so nobody remembers us in case… somebody comes looking." Of course, 'somebody' did include Wendy and Jo, but mostly it extended to the man in the trenchcoat. Lyn still couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him, and it was eating at her.

"Yeah, we're good. For a little bit, at least." She ducked into the car, closing the door behind her.

Lyn sighed heavily. "All right. We'll head west, I guess; they'll probably expect us to head back toward home. We'll find somewhere to crash before dawn, if we make good enough time."

Somewhere around four-thirty, they stopped in a little town near the state line. True to her usual routine, Lyn investigated to be sure there was a spyhole in the door, and checked to be sure they hadn't been followed before she allowed herself to collapse on one of the beds. Jeez, it had been a very long day…

Jordan flopped down on the other bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

It was the dark before the dawn when another set of headlights reflected off of the windows of the small motel Jordan's Impala was parked in. The lights were cut, though, before they could hit the slightly-cracked curtains of the room Lyn and Jordan were in. As it was, the shadow that momentarily cut off the shaft of moonlight across Lyn's face only made her flinch, and it wasn't until the soft but unmistakable sound of a credit card sliding back the cheap motel deadbolt that Lyn tensed, peering out from beneath her lashes as her hand clenched around the handle of the knife under her pillow.

The door opened only slightly, and Lyn mentally yelled for Jordan to wake up but didn't actually move yet. If she did and the burglar was unarmed, he would run before she could catch him; if she did and he was armed, he would shoot her before she could do anything.

There was the soft grating of metal against metal as someone with a practiced hand used a knife to pull back the chain from the outside. Lyn's heart beat faster as, through the shroud of her eyelashes, she could see the tall, broad-shouldered silhouette of a man appear in the slowly opening door. It was him again, it had to be. She couldn't believe he was still after them, that he had managed to follow them all the way here.

Come on, Lyn, you have to do something! Surprise him before he can figure out you're awake and who's who…

Biting back an urge to throw the knife at him even though it was definitely no throwing dagger, Lyn suddenly rolled over and leapt in the same move, tackling Jordan off of the other bed and onto the floor behind it. "He's here," she hissed frantically, fighting to ignore the renewed throbbing in her shoulder and forearm after hitting the floor. "Take this!" She shoved the knife in her friend's hand and reached under the bed, searching blindly for the revolver beneath the bedskirt.

Jordan's eyes went wide and she suppressed a gasp. "Who's here!?" she hissed, grabbing the knife from Lyn.

A low growl was the only answer Lyn gave as she continued to rummage around under the bed. The man in the doorway took a step forward, then froze as there was a metallic click and Lyn shot up from the other side of the bed, aiming the revolver at the doorway.

"You have ten seconds!" she warned, but the next second, the lights clicked on and the man was revealed to be holding Lyn's own Browning nine millimeter. With a faint gasp, she ducked low again, muttering something inaudible under her breath.

Shooting a sideways glance at Jordan, Lyn whispered, "Him him! He must have followed us somehow!" Dadburn it, what the crap are we gonna do now!? Could try shooting at him… somebody's bound to hear it and come… but they'd show up too late, he'd have plenty of time to return fire and kill us both… and even if they caught him, he could easily dispose of them and get away…

"Shit on a single… Okay, Lyn… this has gone on long enough… I'm sick of it and I'm not gonna let you get hurt. No matter what happens, just run," Jordan hissed back as she stood up, her hands out in front of her.

"I know you're not after the both of us. Don't drag her into this. Take me, if you want. Do whatever you want, just don't hurt her," she said, her voice barely audible.

Lyn growled something unintelligible and tried to ignore the million reasons playing in her head of why this was a horrible idea as she crouched, ready to jump or run or shoot the freaking coward if he took the very clean shot he had right now.

The man in the coat remained silent, reinforcing Lyn's suspicions that he knew one or both of them would recognize his voice. However, he shook his head in a very clear denial of Jordan's words and switched to pointing the gun at the top of Lyn's head, which was just barely visible, and motioning upward with the other gloved hand. The message was simple and clear: Stand up now or you die anyway.

Jordan looked from Lyn to the man, her hand creeping to her waistband as she pulled her knife out slowly. She jumped at him, knife held outward in her fist as she tackled him to the ground and held it to his throat.

"Make a move and you die," she growled, smashing his wrist under her fist and successfully knocking the gun out of his hand before grabbing it in her left hand and throwing it to Lyn, who caught it with her free hand.

"Finally," Lyn growled, standing up. "Keep your freaking paws or talons or whatever the crap you have off of my weaponry!" She paused for a second, then her eyes narrowed and the repositioned the nine millimeter in her hand so that she could point it at him, too. "But that's not it, though. You hide and won't talk, and I know you can. You're human and you don't want us to know. Who are you?"

The only response the man in the trenchcoat gave was a low growl and a sideways look at Jordan that wished her a slow and torturous death.

"Don't wanna talk? Fine…" Jordan pulled the hat off his head and unwound the scarf from his neck and face. Her eyebrows pulled together and her eyes widened in shock.

"No," Lyn whispered, freezing in place with her eyes full of shock. "No, no way! It's – it's gotta be a shapeshifter or something, that's not possible!"

The newly unmasked man took advantage of their momentary stunning to knock the knife away from his throat, receiving a short cut through the sleeve of his trenchcoat but regaining his feet and beginning to back away, toward the door.

"Sorry, Lyndi," Keith Coltrane hissed, a horrible sort of half-crazy, crooked grin crossing his face, "but you're wrong. I'm exactly who I look like, that's why I know how you think, how you fight. And that's why I'm gonna kill both of you. Or are you gonna shoot me, Lyn? Gonna stab me, Jordan?"

"Keith… why are you doing this?" Jordan's eyes were wide, unbelieving. She grabbed the knife quickly, backing towards Lyn and holding the knife, ready to defend them both.

Keith's smile shifted into a look of disgust. "You have to ask that question, after all this time? After we all trusted you, believed you – both of you? After you –" he glared at Jordan – "turned out to be a freaking demon, and you…" He looked repulsed as he switched his gaze to Lyn. "You get my brother killed… and then you protect the scum he spent his life fighting. So now do you understand why I'm doing this?"

"You don't know what you're saying," Lyn hissed, but she was fighting to keep her hands from shaking. "Jordan isn't –"

"She's a demon!" Keith thundered, taking an unexpected step forward.

Lyn flinched, but neither lowered the gun nor fired. Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet as she said, "You don't understand. Kyle would have listened."

The muscles in Jordan's jaw clenched. "I'm not a full demon. I don't even have a demon's powers. You should get the whole story before you try and kill people." She adjusted her grip on the knife and went on, "And you must know that we're not gonna go down without a fight. I don't want to kill you, Keith. I will, if I have to, but please… just leave," she said, her voice quiet as her hand clenched around the handle of the knife.

"Of course you would," Keith said, his hazel eyes sharp as they bored into hers. "But that's not the question, is it?" He switched his gaze to Lyn, staring into her green eyes just as fiercely as he had just been gazing at Jordan. "Is it, Lyn? You weren't coldblooded enough for that five years ago. You wouldn't stand for it. So what about now?"

There was a ringing silence following his words, and though Lyn didn't lower the gun, the turmoil in her eyes was enough of an answer. "I didn't think so," he whispered, and then his jaw set. "But you're the reason my brother's gone. I'm not the same person I was five years ago. Remember that."

His eyes were cold and his expression hard as he took three long steps backward and then disappeared into the darkness. And as soon as he was out of sight, Lyn gave up on trying to hide the fact that she was now shaking from her very core and dropped both guns on the bed before she could accidentally fire one.

Jordan took a long, shaky breath inwards, then released it sharply and closed her eyes. "You okay, Lyn?"

Lyn stared down at the bed in silence for a long moment before meeting Jordan's gaze. "No, I'm not okay," she said in a hoarse whisper. "We just got attacked for the second time in two days, Keith – Keith," she repeated as if she couldn't believe what she was saying, "is the one who's been trying to kill us, and no matter what you say, Jordn, this is my fault."

She took a shaky breath and sat down on the bed, shaking her hed. "He's right," she said in a voice that was barely audible. "Kyle died because of me. This happened to Keith because of me. And he's right, I can't watch him die. Turn his eyes blue and curl his hair and he's Kyle's image. I can't do that again."

Jordan sat down across from her and said slowly, "Lyn, it wasn't your fault. Keith just wants to blame someone, but he doesn't wanna blame himself…"

"I'm not doing the it-is, no-it-isn't thing tonight, Jordan," Lyn said, her jaw set firmly. "You were wrong, he isn't just after you. And at least you can know he only hates you because of what you are, that's nothing you could ever have changed."

"'What' I am!?" Jordan paused for a second, not trusting herself to speak, when suddenly a thought hit her like a train, leaving her mind reeling. "How does he even know, Lyn? I mean, would Wendy tell? Would Jo tell? Because they are the only two people we told. Unless you've been talking, which I know a hundred percent you most likely weren't."

Lyn thought her blood might have frozen for one split second. Wendy? No, no, Wendy wouldn't do that. And she didn't know Jo, but if Wendy trusted her, Lyn couldn't believe the blond woman would tell anyone, either…

"Wait a second," she said suddenly, her gaze flicking up to meet Jordan's. "Who we told? Aren't we forgetting a couple of gung-ho, stab-first-ask-questions-later morons? He even said in the hospital to be careful, because word gets around!" she declared, suddenly standing up and looking furious. "That freaking lying rat! I swear, I'll have his egotistical, spiky-haired head on a plate if it was him…"

Jordan's mouth hung open. "Son of a bitch… I'll kill that stupid dude… Smack him so hard he forgets his name … Kick him so hard he'll feel my foot up his ass for the rest of his life… That no good, girl-almost-killing, holier-than-thou jerk…" She finally stopped ranting, breathing heavily, almost like an angry bull.

Lyn didn't answer, just growled low under her breath and grabbed her bag, unzipping it and turning it upside down so that a pile of jeans, t-shirts, and other various items of clothing fell onto her bed. She began rummaging through them, looking for the pair of jeans she had been wearing at the hospital that day. "It's in here somewhere…"

Jordan cocked her head to one side. "You lost your mind, woman!? What's in there somewhere!?"

"This!" Lyn announced, holding up a piece of paper and glaring at it with narrowed eyes as she grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table. "If this really is his phone number, he's stupider than I thought."

Jordan's right eyebrow rose as she grabbed both objects from Lyn's hands, dialing in 866-907-3235 and hitting send as she pressed the phone against her ear.

"Tell him from me that if he's the one who told Keith, I'll impale him on a pike and leave him for the crows," Lyn growled as her only comment to the fact that Jordan had just stolen her cell phone.

After four rings, someone picked up. It was a few seconds after that that a man's voice, sounding more than a little groggy, asked, "'Lo?"

"You stupid son of a bitch! I thought I hated you when you nearly killed me, then showed up at the hospital trying to get back on Lyn's good side, but talking to people we know and turning them against us because you're too much of a coward to come and finish the job yourself!? I didn't think it was possible to hate you even more, but you've proven me wrong, you jackass!" Jordan nearly screamed at Dean, gesturing wildly with her hands and standing up, starting to walk around the room aimlessly.

Dean sounded genuinely confused as he said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa – slow down. This is Jordan, right? What are you talking about?"

"Yes, it's Jordan, fool! And you know damn well what I'm talking about, so I suggest if you don't want me to inflict any more pain on you than I had originally planned, then cut the clueless act."

"Look, just calm down for a second and tell me what you're talking about. I already apologized to your friend at the hospital, and I tried to apologize to you, but she wouldn't let me, and there's nothing I can do about that. What more do you want?"

"Oh, okay. Well, I guess you chose the more painful option, then. So, let's see. One of our old friends stalked us and tried to kill us… twice! But of course you already knew that, asshole," Jordan replied, her voice icy.

"Wait, what?" Dean objected almost instantly. Well, at least his reflexes were improving; maybe that was a sign he was actually awake now. "Why the hell would I have anything to do with that!?"

"… Because you're a moron!?" Jordan shot back.

"You're the one who's not understanding what I'm saying, here," Dean growled. "Look, I swear to God I don't know any of your old friends, and even if I did, I already told your friend at the hospital that I didn't tell anybody. Not then, not now, all right!?"

"Dean, I'm sick of this. We're going to find you… both of you. And we're going to kill you. I'm sick of dealing with you two. Goodbye, Dean Winchester."

Jordan snapped the phone shut and slammed it down on the table, and Lyn growled, "I'm telling you – impale upon a pike and leave for the crows."