Author's Note: Sorry that it took me so long to update! Things have been very busy lately, with it being Christmas and all. Anyways, I hope you all have a wonderful and safe holiday!
Before he left, Jessica had promised she'd get some sleep and try to minimize her worry. They both knew that wouldn't happen, though. She worries too much, especially the night before a big test - and Sam's middle-of-the-night venture into the local haunted hotspot didn't help. Eyelids heavy with exhaustion, she flips her gaze to the digital clock on the mantle. 5:31 A.M. Her body jolts with sudden fear and paranoia. Nearly 3 hours slipped by her without her noticing, and there wasn't even so much as a text message from Sam. Heart in her throat, she grabs for the phone on the coffee table beside of her and dials Sam's number without missing a beat.
"Hey, it's Sam. I'm not able to get the phone right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."
She becomes nauseated with terror. Her stomach and heart wrenches at the same time, painfully gut-punching her. The phone didn't even so much as ring. It went straight to voicemail, which meant he was in trouble.
No, she can't jump to conclusions. Not so suddenly. Sam always said she had a bad habit of doing that, even teased her for it, but why else would he not call? He promised he'd call, he swore he would. Her mind is racing, and there wasn't a single person she could go to for help.
Something tugs in the recesses of her mind, and an idea hits her. It's a stupid one, but it's the only thing she can think of right now. She remembers, specifically, that Sam wrote down Dean's phone number on a small slip of paper and used a magnet to stick it to the fridge. 'In case we ever need it,' he explained, although Jessica knew that it brought comfort to Sam to see his brother's number stuck to the fridge like he was a frequent visitor and caller.
With the idea stuck in her head, she had to follow through with it. There wasn't much else she could do, and her gut said that Sam needed help. She pads to the kitchen, presses the number into her phone, and waits patiently as she hears ringing.
"Hello?" A gravelly voice answers, and Jessica is surprised by it. She hadn't properly thought this through; she never met the guy, let alone had a conversation with him.
"Uh...hi," she replies. She mentally slaps her forehead in embarrassment.
"Who's this?" His voice is now more stern. She can tell he's on edge.
"Oh- sorry, it's Jessica, Sam's-"
"Sam's girlfriend?" She falters.
"Yeah, how'd you…"
"He's told me...before."
"Oh." There's a moment of awkward silence before she breaks it. "Listen, Dean- I hate for this to be the first time we talk, but...Sam's...uh, he's in trouble."
"He's in trouble?" Jessica can hear the stumble of heavy shoes on wooden floors. There's also the sound that she picks up as a beer bottle rolling on a hard surface. "What happened?"
"Well- I don't know if he's in trouble, I just...he got this call in the middle of the night, around 3 A.M. His friend's girlfriend was missing, and he went to look for her in this abandoned building. He hasn't been back, or even called."
"I'll be there in half an hour."
"Wait-"
The line cuts before she can even finish the word. Jessica's taken aback. How come he never visited Sam, but suddenly drops everything when his brother's in trouble? What the hell kind of brother was he?
Jessica drops into the armchair, breathes out heavily, and tucks a strand of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear. She clicks on the TV and tries her best to ignore the eerie feeling creeping in the back of her mind.
The faint rumbling of an engine was an unmistakable indicator of Dean's arrival. She wasn't an expert on cars in the slightest; but since her father took up fixing cars as a hobby after his retirement, she knew a thing or two about them. It had to be the '67 Impala Sam mentioned before.
Hopping off of the couch and to her feet, only when she heard the sound of a squeaking car door slam shut is when nervousness began to overwhelm her. It wouldn't be this bad with Sam around - the guy acted like a guard dog whenever he saw she was uncomfortable - but this was different.
Jessica quickly walks to the door and opens it before Dean even has the chance to knock. There he stood, hand curled midair and eyes wide and looking up at her in surprise. Under normal circumstances, he'd throw her a charming grin and compliment her on her pajama shorts and Smurfette sleeping shirt, but he bites his tongue and slips past her into the apartment.
Dean slams a heavy, black duffel bag onto the table in the kitchen and begins rummaging through it. He grunts as he looks through it's contents, and Jessica scoffs to herself. Somehow, she was both surprised and not surprised by his attitude. He was worried, yes, but she was too. A formal introduction would have made her a little more at ease, but she knew that she wasn't going to get that any time soon.
"How'd you get here so fast?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Wasn't far away. I was in San Francisco." He responds, promptly pulling a silver Colt from the bag and checking it's clip. Jessica's eyes widen and she takes a fearful step back.
"Is that-"
"A gun? Yeah, sweetheart. This isn't some kind of friendly prank. Sam always calls. Always." His eyes locked on hers, and Jessica felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The look he wore looked dangerous.
"Can you- can you just tell me what's going on?" She pries, approaching the table. If he thought a gun was going to deter her from learning the truth about a situation, he was wrong. Besides, Sam never made Dean out to the serial-killing type. He turns towards her and shakes his head with a pitying smile.
"Sorry, sweetheart. You wouldn't believe me even if I tried. Besides, Sam would kill me if I did tell you."
"Try me." Dean turns to look at her, and he can't help but smirk to himself. She had an attitude that was painfully similar to Sam's. No wonder he took a liking to her.
"Nope, sorry." He puts his gun back into the bag after loading a special clip into it. Jessica can't help but lean to take a look into the bag as he silently checks over them.
"Oh, okay. So you're telling me that whatever Sam ran into needs a wooden stake?"
Dean stops and looks over to her. She has her arms crossed and a stoic look on her face.
"Listen, sweetheart…"
"Can you stop calling me that? Listen, Dean, I know that the Winchesters love secrets, but Sam's my boyfriend, okay? Whatever he's caught up in, I want to help. I won't let you go alone." Her eyes shine with emotion and sincerity, and Dean has to stop himself from rolling his eyes and groaning. Although she was a pain in the ass, she obviously cared about his brother. That was enough for him.
There's a pause before Dean finally sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
"Fine. But don't come crying to me when you can't watch Ghostbusters the same."
He turns towards her, and with a completely solid face, he says:
"Sam and I are hunters. Well- he was a hunter, I guess. We fight the bad stuff. The creeps that hide in your closet and haunt your local supermarkets. Stuff like that."
"...Is this some kind of joke?" She asks, eyebrows furrowed.
"And that's the exact reason why Sam never told you." Dean says, shrugging incredulously and zipping up his bag. "It's the truth - nothing but the truth. Now I know you think I'm nuts, which is just peachy - but I have a brother to save." He heads for the door.
"Wait!" Jessica exclaims. Dean stops and looks back at her. She huffs and looks back at her room. "Wait, okay? I need to put on some actual clothes, it's cold out there. I'm not going in pajamas."
She inwardly smirks when Dean grudgingly groans in defeat.
