Veronica was beyond nervous, jittery even, as she welcomed the two alone and passed them each a cup of coffee, nearly splashing them both with hot, dark liquid in the process.
A stuttering mess, Veronica explained that she was taking the week off from school after witnessing what happened to her friends. She took deep breaths here and there while Sam asked her non-case related questions, helping to calm her nerves until her stuttering became minimal and her shoulders relaxed.
Once the questioning began, she tensed again, but not as badly as before. Instead, she picked at her manicure and shook her left leg while describing the events.
"I first woke up to Miss Jenkins shouting into my tent, telling us to wake up and get up, and a phone was in my hands while I watched her and Jezebel—"
Dean and Sam perked up at that, with Dean quickly interrupting with a question, "Jezebel Abel? The pastor's kid?"
Her face scrunched up into a combination of darting eyes and a curled lip as she folded her arms over her chest in a sign of almost defiance.
"Yeah, that's the one," Veronica clicked her tongue, her eyes sharpening. "Knew we shouldn't have brought her," she said under her breath as she stared at her feet, her hard eyes melting into sadness.
Dean looked over at Sam with an 'I told you so' expression before looking back at the young girl. "Why would you say that?"
"Is she a suspect?"
Dean paused at the expectation in her voice, but Rachael ignored the surprise and answered the question anyway.
"She's a junior like me, held back a year, but being 17—" a strangled noise left Dean's throat, but he dismissed Sam's look of annoyance. "—and well, she was the first person to see it."
"It wasn't Ms. Jenkins?"
Veronica shook her head, uncrossing her arms as she looked over at the two almost condescendingly. "Of course not, Jezebel was the first to see them. I woke up and saw her standing in the front of it all, staring. Ms. Jenkins slapped her after handing me the phone, and then I was talking to 911 while they got them down and—"
"Why would she lie?"
"To cover for the witch? I don't know!" Dean nearly yelled out, loosening his tie only a bit as frustration heated his skin. "Totally... totally not okay."
The ride out into the country was barely 10 minutes, and it felt like their feet hit the dirt before the car was fully off. Dean took the lead as he knocked on the door, and there were only a few curses from the other side before the old door opened.
"The hell do you guys want?"
"Answers," Dean responded seriously. "You know false statements are illegal, right?"
"Did you know pretending to be the law is illegal too?"
For a moment, it felt like everyone was holding their breath, a stillness in the evening air washing over them like ice water that had everyone twitching their fingers for defensive weapons in case someone made the first move. Dean was too prideful, and it seemed Rachael was too. So Sam was the one who rolled his eyes at the glaring duo and cleared his throat.
"We really are trying to help, Rachael," Sam said quietly, keeping his eyes locked onto the woman in front of him with all the honesty he could muster. "Please... just tell us the truth."
Whatever she saw in the tall man's face had Rachael's facial muscles tightening up like she had eaten lemons in two bites before exhaling loudly. Once again, she waved them inside without even looking. Once they were back where they were this morning, Sam wasted no time.
"You told us that you were first on the scene," Sam pointed out before Dean could open his mouth with accusations and rudeness.
"As far as cops are concerned, I was."
"Why?"
Rachael never seemed to hesitate before, but Sam watched curiously as her lips parted a little and her eyes darted to the wood-burning fireplace that made the room feel almost comforting during the frigid February air. Just as she was about to answer, the front door opened, and a small curse escaped from her lips just in time for the two men to turn around to see the newcomer.
"God, I hate school so much! I hate this town! I hate the people!" The voice groaned loudly from the hallway, and a rough wooden sound echoed on the wall just before the figure entered the doorway of the living room where the adults sat facing the entry. "And now there's these—these monkeys in suits being assholes and—" Jezebel took in a sharp breath as her eyes landed on the two men, her jaw clenching shut at the sight.
"Jezebel Abel? We have some questions-"
Dean's words were cut off as the girl shot away from the entryway.
Dean let out a curse as he got up from his chair, following the teen. He took a half-second to eye the familiar skateboard on the wall before ripping the door open and tearing after the girl, who he caught a glimpse of running behind the house. "Stop!" he tried to shout, but Jezebel only seemed to speed up, her head looking for a way out and her sights set on a brown horse with a purple blanket over its back.
With grace that had Dean stumbling in shock and slight admiration, Jezebel had her hands on the horse's back and swung herself over, just barely sitting up in time as the horse shot forward in a run. Dean was left miffed in the wind as he made eye contact with the teen looking back as she disappeared into the woods.
"What the hell," he breathed out to his brother as he finally jogged over, gesturing wildly in the direction Jezebel had left in. "She—she just," his hands made a motion of climbing onto a horse dramatically before throwing them forward in exasperation, "No saddle or nothing! Witchy!"
"She ain't a witch," the voice behind them scoffed, and Dean whirled around to see Rachael leaning on the railing of her front porch with a roll of her eyes.
"Then what the hell is she?"
"A teenager," Rachael responded dryly. "A scared teenager that this town has made into a pariah. Get on inside before you make fools of yourselves."
—————————
Guns away, they were now in the woman's study, surrounded by paraphernalia from her travels, service, and photos of her and a younger, smiling Jezebel.
"My maiden name is Abel," Rachael explained, pointing out a wedding photo with a red-haired man. "My husband passed away years ago after we lost our pregnancy unexpectedly."
"Oh, we're so sorry for your loss," Sam responded sympathetically.
"Yeah, well, me too. Ken was much too good for this world," she offered the boys a beer this time, to which they both accepted gratefully. "Ken was an angel, an oiler turned farmer from the panhandle. Way better than any damn preacher in this town."
"Better than your brother?"
"Hell, I think you two chuckle-fucks are better pastors than my brother," her chuckle seemed to echo around the dark room as she swigged a large sip of her beer. "Jack cheated on his wife after her pregnancy, which is where Jezebel came from. Family thinks it's her fault for somethin' she can't control, but it's gotten worse over the years."
"They didn't seem too happy with her at dinner," Dean said slowly, and Rachael nodded.
"She's lost a lot of faith."
"You a believer?"
"A firm one," Rachael responded resolutely, looking seriously over at Dean as she nodded at a book on a side table beside the door. "Think you could hand me that book?"
As soon as Dean had grabbed the book and walked back to the desk, a smirk grew on her face as she looked pointedly at the rug under his feet.
Both brothers looked down and blinked at the large piece of fabric, processing the distinct geometric design for a minute before it clicked with Sam. "A demon..." he trailed off in disbelief, looking up at the woman. "You're a hunter."
"Not so much a hunter, more so a knower," Rachael shrugged, leaning back in her dollar chair. "I got holy water-infused bottles earlier and my doorknobs are silver for a reason."
Dean glanced at the book and read the title referring to mythical creatures before placing it on the table and glancing around the room, making quick work of old titles and languages.
"What did you do in the Marines?" Dean asked slowly, sitting back down in his chair.
"MOS 2671-2676. I was a Cryptologic Linguist in the Middle East."
"How many languages?"
"On paper? Three."
"Not on paper?"
"A helluva lot more than that, agent."
"The hell did you see over there?"
"Ever heard of an efrit? Djinn? Nesnas? Ain't just America with a dirty, nasty secret."
Sam sniffed as he examined the military honors on the walls. "Our dad was a Marine too," he offered the information willingly, and Rachael took it with a nod. "Weapons Specialist."
"Nam?" she questioned knowingly.
"If it wasn't the demons, it was the guns," Sam responded quietly, and Rachael let out a low hum of understanding.
"Right," Dean responded casually, looking over at a photo of Jezebel on the wall, grinning with flowers in her hands. "How come you know all this? Your brother in on it too?"
The surrounding air in the room changed.
"Ken... Ken was possessed," Rachael sighed out, rubbing her face tiredly. "By an angel."
Sam and Dean blinked. "So... he was a literal angel," Dean snorted, and Rachael shrugged.
"Ken could—apparently—hear angels or whatever, and he was called on to do great things." Her sigh was tired for her age, and she punched the bridge of her nose. "He's gone, and well..." the words trailed off into the distance before Rachael swallowed the emotion, opening her arms to gesture to herself. "So, here I am. Trying to protect what family I have left."
"An angel..." Dean said slowly, looking at Sam for confirmation. At his younger brother's small nod, he glanced back to the woman while stretching out his legs.
"Dean." As if he had heard his name, the emotionally-stunted angel appeared in the corner of the room with a rustle of feathers and dark eyes analyzing the occupants.
"Good, now that you're here you can do something for me."
"I am not here in servitude to you," the angel reminded Dean gravely.
"It's not like I'm going to ask you to take your shirt off and dance on the table." Dean rolled his eyes.
"Why would I remove my shirt and dance on the table?" Castiel asked seriously, looking towards the mentioned object in mild concern. "That would seem unwise."
"Hey, we just... wanted to know if any of your friends were involved here." Sam asked with a sigh, interrupting his brother's upcoming snark. Castiel stared with narrowed eyes at the woman behind the desk. "Or if you know anything about what's going on...?"
"Errr, Cas?" Dean questioned the angel, curious at the glare, and Sam didn't miss the looks either. Rachel proved to be a promised advisory, holding the angel's stare with one of her own. "Do you... know anything about..." there were a few questions in his head that he wished he could just blurt out all at once - unsure what was more important - Dean was curious.
"We need to find a girl," he settled on, and Castiel broke his stare to look at the hunter with furrowed brows. "Not like that, man," Dean sighed in frustration. "She galloped off and whatever. We think she's a witch-"
"She's not a witch." Rachael scowled, before describing her nieve to the ángel with a point to a photo on her desk.
Castiel nodded in understanding before disappearing, sending Rachael into a series of unheard grumbles under her breath as she plopped down into her chair.
"Do you... do you know Castiel?" Sam asked hesitatingly.
"Nope." Rachael denied harshly. "All them winged fucks are the same."
"Thought you were a believer?"
"I believe in God." Her lip sneered. "Not in them freaks."
"I'll drink to that." Dean snickered, a sip already on his lips.
"—who the fuck are you?! What-what the fuck?!" A squirmy Jezebel spawned from nowhere with rage on her face and eyes wide at the new environment. Quickly she took in her surroundings and tried to yank her arm free from Castiel to run over to her aunt. "What the fuck!"
"Is this the girl you desire?" Castiel asked Dean whose face scrunched up in disgust.
"You don't have to say it like that, man." He complained before settling on a scowl over the young lady. "Some little spitfire said she was 18."
"Some idiot said they were a cop," she sneered back as she fought against the angel's grip with a raging fire in her eyes. "I'll give you three guesses to guess who."
Dean's lips parted in surprise before looking at Sam incredulously. "She's a brat!" He exclaimed, and Sam snorted.
"And you're a dick!" She snapped before letting out a growl and looking up at the angel holding her. "Let me go, you freakin' weirdo!"
Castiel let her go without a word, and at the same time, Jezebel had lunged forward to get free. As her momentum went forward without any counteracting force, the young girl was sent flying forward with a yelp and landed face-first on the coffee table with a loud curse. In pain, Jezebel curled up on the floor next to the table and groaned.
"Are you... are you alright?" Sam hesitated as he crouched down and laid a careful hand on the girl's back in support. "Here, let me look at it."
Immediately, Jezebel tensed under his hand before scrambling away with a scowl. "I'm fine..." She replied with a hard tone as she rubbed at her forehead with a wince. Without looking up at the two men, the teen made her way off the floor and over to her aunt.
Rachael grabbed Jezebel's chin with a firm hand and examined the injury as Sam and Dean made disbelieving eye contact over the rudeness.
"You're fine," was all Rachael said, and Jezebel nodded.
"What the hell are these assholes doing here!?" Jezebel hissed lowly, and Rachael only raised an eyebrow in response. "...sorry, I mean, who are these irritating folk and why are they inside my sanctuary from the hellish outside world!"
"Actually, hell is a lot worse than the world outside, kiddo," Dean responded with a smirk on his lip, but his eyes were dead.
"What would you know about hell?" Jezebel sneered back with arms crossed defiantly over her chest. "Fancy car, nice suits, and a face like that? What do you know about suffering, rich boy?"
Rachael actually choked a little on her drink at the accusation, and Dean felt needles prickling over his skin as his consciousness seemed to retreat away from him into the depths of his mind for safety. Although his stomach lurched with the need to run to the bathroom and hide from the concerned looks drawn by his brother and the angel who had saved him, Dean took a breath and examined the girl in front of him with eyes that used to analyze victims for their weaknesses not too long ago.
Jezebel held onto her anger in the grip of her fists, bracing her shoulders in a painfully familiar way as if she were ready to bolt any second. Her stance and position were that of someone who was on guard, and her eyes very clearly darted towards the exit.
"I hope you never understand the true meaning of Hell," was all he settled on before leaning back in his seat and ignoring the stares. "And while we're here, how much does she know?" Dean asked Rachael, his head nodding over to the confused teen.
Rachael went along with the change of subject without a skip and with a sigh. "More than I'd like her to know," she admitted before taking a sip.
Sam made his way over to the chair next to Dean and sat down, examining the looks of bewilderment that Jezebel gave Dean. "Demons? Vampires?" He questioned, and Jezebel's face scrunched up.
"Oh, gross, you guys are talking about all the books my aunt makes me read-" something clicked within Jezebel, and her face fell as if her heart was torn out of her chest and smashed in front of her for all to see. The brothers were both drawn to the sudden quietness and timidity that spawned in the girl at the sudden realization.
"If you're here to arrest me, I ain't going down without a fight."
