Sammy

"Well then let it END!"

Jane flinched from outside, hearing Dean's shout through the less than stellar building they had shacked themselves in. Sam had… died, just last night, and Dean had hauled him here. He had instructed her to take Bobby to get his vehicle of the moment, which had left him time to clean his brother up. One things TV and the movie rarely depicted was what happened to bodies after death. Not all that pleasant.

That had been her key indicator outside of the fact that he had literally just watched his brother die, that his mental state was nowhere good. He had let her drive his baby, the Impala, the car he loved nearly as much as he had Sam.

Had. Sam.

Bobby came walking out and halted, just staring at her, but not at her, more like through her. "You're smoking." He said in a flat voice after a moment.

She nodded, looking down at the Camel between her fingers. "I am." She muttered, bringing it to her lips and taking a quick drag from it.

He snorted when she began hacking on it, coughing until her eyes got teary. "Why are you trying to kill yourself with a habit you obviously can't handle?"

She shrugged.

"Go in there in a few, try to talk some sense into him Jane." Bobby rested his hand on her shoulder. "Try to get him to… to bury or burn Sam."

"Bobby…" She flicked away the cigarette, what a waste of money. She had stopped long enough to fill up the car, buy some bare necessities and seen the display behind the counter. Smoking had seemed like an idea at the time. Bad idea. "I can't… he won't listen to me."

"If there's anyone in this world he'll listen to right now, it'd be you."

She somehow doubted that.


"What am I supposed to do?"

Jane didn't think Dean was talking to her and remained quiet as she stepped inside the house.

"Sammy? …what am I supposed to do?"

She felt her heart breaking and slowly walked towards him. When she laid eyes on Sam, she couldn't keep the chill from ghosting over her. Hesitantly, she held out her hands, slowly letting her palms down until they rested on his shoulders. When he didn't immediately shrug her off or start cursing her out, she took that as a good sign and bent down until her cheek was brushing his, her chest to his back. "Dean… it's not good for you to sit here."

He sighed, his entire body slumping as he shifted down in the chair he had been keeping vigil in ever since getting Sammy's body sorted. "Janey, don't ask me to move, sweetheart. Please, don't."

She just nodded, having already known asking was useless. Jane felt the shift in Dean before it actually occurred and had a hard time navigating herself around him and into his lap when he began gracelessly tugging her down. Once she was sitting sideways on his thighs, she wrapped one arm around him, the other sitting in her own lap.

"Everything quiet outside?" He asked quietly, the hand that was wrapped around her kneading her side, his other hand resting on her knee.

"Yeah. It's like everything packed up and left once… once it was over." She mentally flinched, wondering why she had just put her foot in her mouth that way when the reminder why she shouldn't was laying not too far away from her.

His lips did a half twitch, a humorless smile that didn't reach his turbulent eyes. "Bobby wants me to bury him, Janey, or burn him. How can I do that? How can I bury Sammy? I promised him I'd take care of him, and…"

She didn't know what to say, there really was nothing she could say, so she simply hugged him. She felt his face moving to the crook of her neck and simply ran her fingers through his hair. "You should try to get some sleep Dean."

He slowly shook his head. "Can't sleep."

Not surprised about that either, and she just held him.


"Don't touch him. Don't let anyone else touch him. If Bobby comes back and tries to burn or bury him, you shoot Bobby."

"Dean!"

Dean stared down at her, the look on his face informing her that he wasn't joking. "I mean it Jane, nobody touches him."

Jane highly doubted Bobby was coming back, not anytime soon. Bobby was probably holed up in the house, wondering if Dean had regained a fraction of his mind yet. Her concern was the MIA inhabitants of this town. The demons, or ghosts, who had been here before, the things that had gotten Cold Oak its reputation as the most haunted ghost town. "Nobody will, Dean." She reassured him, hoping she wasn't making a promise she couldn't keep.

"Got your guns?"

She nodded. The sawed off was within immediate reach, her 9mm in its hardly used holster on her hip. Folding her arms over her chest, Jane wished they were anywhere but here. Anywhere but this God forsaken place. "Are you going to tell me where you're going?"

"No."

"Any way I could persuade you too?"

He looked her up and down and then shook his head. "Not today, sweetheart. Come give me a kiss and then salt the hell out of the place."

"It's already salted."

"Then do it again." He finished pulling on his worn, brown leather jacket and opened his arms. "Here. Now."

"One of these days, you're going to give the wrong order." But she was still obediently walking to him, sliding her arms around his neck.

"Not today." He bent down until his forehead was pressing against hers. "How'd I get lucky enough to keep you?"

"A uh, demon, kidnapped me off the streets of my quiet, wholesome Texas town while I was on my way to divorcing you." Her lips brushed against his. "Dean, please… don't do anything stu-"

He kissed her to shut her up. "Take care of Sammy."

She stood right there until she heard the door shut behind him before turning to walk back over to resume vigil. "Sammy… since he's probably going to go do something really idiotic and you'll probably wake up… I hope he does it soon…. Before you start to smell."