A/N: Set during Season 4, Episode 21: When the Levee Breaks. Anything you recognize doesn't, sadly, belong to me, unless it's Jane.


65: In Spades

"You don't think you were too harsh on her?"

Dean sighed, wondering why Bobby thought lurking and spying were okay. The old man had heard everything he had said to Jane, apparently he had still been on the stairwell, not that Dean would have noticed. He had been busy trying not to lose his cool on his wife. "No." He said finally, firmly, taking a swallow of his beer and looking at Bobby defiantly.

"Not even a little?"

"Bobby, she did this before. Back when Sam was just out with Ruby, she knew about it, and didn't say a word. She probably wouldn't have said anything if I hadn't found out about it."

"And how did you react?"

Dean remembered that night quite well; he had put a hole in a wall, destroyed some cheap motel furniture, and generally scared the piss out of her. Turns out, it had been a prelude to what he was truly capable of when he began smacking her around in his hell-fueled dreams. He could already see where Bobby was going with this and sighed. "Pretty badly."

"So… with something like this, think maybe she was scared?"

"Probably, but it doesn't change the facts, Bobby. Sam was drinking demon's blood and working with some serious mojo and becoming an addict. And she knew the entire time. She knew he was becoming a monster and just let him."

"Sam's an adult, he made his choices, and you can't put that on her."

"No, Sam's an idiot who went off his rocker a while ago and she just watched it happen."

Bobby shook his head, deciding now would be a good time to walk away before he smacked the oldest Winchester upside his thick, stubborn skull. "Damn fool…" He muttered.


"Stop!"

Jane waved her hand when Bobby offered her a glass of whiskey, shaking her head, and watched as he instead passed it to Dean before pouring himself a generous measure. She rested her chin on her drawn up knees, perched in a rickety chair, and trying not to listen to Sam's screams from below. For a room that supernatural proof, the sound thing sucked.

"Stop! Stop!"

"How long is this going to go on?" Dean growled, throwing back his drink.

"Hm well, let me just go check my demon detox manual…" Bobby said sarcastically. "Oh wait, I can't, because no one ever wrote one."

"Want me to get a pen and start taking notes for one?" Jane volunteered, half-sarcasm, half-tired. By the sound Dean made, she gathered he wasn't amused though Bobby snorted. She smiled slightly, hiding her face from sight.

"Nice sweetheart, really nice."

"Hell Dean, there just ain't no way of knowing how long it'll take. Or if Sam will even survive it."

Jane did look up at that, glad the phone rang just then because Dean looked like he was chewing over some harsh words. She met his gaze when he finally glanced at her, frowning slightly. She had no idea what to say, having never considered the possibility that Sam wouldn't survive the detox process. Her little joke didn't seem as funny now.

If Sam would even survive…

No, not funny at all.


When Bobby had said the news wasn't good, Jane hadn't expected the news to be good. She hadn't expected the news to be about extinction of species either. "Ten?" She echoed, wondering if maybe she had misheard him.

"Yeah, ten. That's not even the worst of it." Bobby sat down, sighing heavily as he looked back and forth between the two. Dean didn't look quite as horrified as Jane, but Dean was more focused on Sam, so he wasn't overly surprised. "Alaska, there was a fifteen man fishing crew, all stricken blind. No cause determined yet. A teacher in New York went postal, locked a door, and killed… sixty-six kids."

"Sixty-six?" That could not be a coincidence.

"Yes, and all of these things, one day. I just checked. These seals are breaking fast."

Dean rubbed his forehead, letting out a slow sigh. "How many are left?"

Bobby shrugged. "No way to be sure. Can't be that many left. Better question, where the hell are your angel pals?"

"You tell me."

"I'm just wondering…"

Jane could feel the tension suddenly racket up a few notches, the way Bobby was looking at Dean, a hint of apologetic and a dash of 'gotta be said', not helping. "I'm just going to excuse myself…" She pushed herself off her chair and vacated the living room.

Checking on Sam was probably better than listening to whatever argument they were about to get into.


"What if it's stronger than me? Look at me. What if he's right?"

Jane had no idea who Sam was talking to but he sounded so heartbroken that it was making her own heart twinge. He was sitting in the middle of the floor, cross legged, having what was a serious conversation with someone, or something, only he could see.

"…even if it kills me."

Whatever it was going on in there, Jane was thankful she would never have to experience it. And infinitely regretful that Sam had too.


"Please tell me you didn't."

"How'd you find out?" Dean hadn't even told Bobby yet, though it was on his agenda. He had come inside from his… excursion, out in the junkyard and gone upstairs to seek some comfort in his wife's not-quite-so-loving arms. Things were a little… tense lately between them. Bobby had been asleep on the couch and Dean had trudged upstairs, only to find the bed empty. Jane had started spending time down in the basement, keeping an eye on Sam. He didn't know whether he appreciated the gesture or was irritated by it.

"How do I ever find anything out?" Jane asked quietly, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the steel door. Her eyes were closed; she had been dozing, which had seemed nearly impossible given Sam's ramblings. But they had died down in the past hour, so she had fallen asleep. At least until Dean had nudged her awake.

"Just… seriously… what the hell is up with him?" Him being Castiel, Dean would never figure out angels, especially his angel. "I spend… hours calling him and he just pops in your… what, dreams?"

She nodded, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

"He have… anything interesting to say?" Dean squatted down to stare into her face.

"He said to make sure you uphold your end of the bargain."

"That it?"

"That's it." Jane studied him thoughtfully. "What bargain Dean?"

He took a deep breath.


"…You willingly signed up to be Heaven's bitch?"

"Not you too, man." Dean sighed, shooting Jane an exasperated glance. She had said basically the exact same thing as Bobby.

"I'm sorry, did you prefer the term sucker?" Bobby was not happy at all. "After everything…"

"Dean! Bobby! Help! Help me! Jane!"

"…now you trust them?"

Jane started moving towards the door, hating the feeling in her gut that was tugging her.

"Give me some credit Bobby."

"Then why in the hell did you-"

"Dean! Please!"

"Dean?" Jane echoed, cocking her head to the side.

"…let Sammy trust a demon?"

"Bobby?"

"I see your point."

"Guys?" It had gone silent.


It looked like Sam was having a seizure. She had no medical training so she wasn't 100% certain, but what she had seen in movies seemed to confirm her quack diagnoses. "Dean?"

"What if he's faking?" Dean mused, feeling Jane move aside so Bobby could get a better look through the window in the door.

"Think he would?" Bobby sounded more concerned than Dean, his eyes worried.

"I think he'd try anything."

Dean ate his words a second later when Sam went flying into a wall by something nobody but him could see.

"That ain't faking."

"We need to strap him down or something." Dean was already opening the door.

Not a seizure.


Sam was loose. Jane hated the fact that Bobby had put a gun in her hand and sent her to check one end of the junk yard while he started on the other. She stood there, gun in hands, with her eyes closed. A tug in her gut and a shift in the mass of blackness had her turning, and reluctantly opening her lids. Stifling back a groan, she began approaching Sam.

"No Sam, you're not running away." She said quietly, not wanting to startle him overly. Not in the condition he was in. "You're coming back inside with me."

Sam turned away from the car he had been attempting to steal, staring at her out of wide, desperate eyes that began tinging with hurt. "You told Dean." He said, licking his cracked lips and clearing his throat. "You did."

She nodded.

"You're the reason… he… I… was locked in there… You did it."

"I told you I would Sam. You have a problem." She said softly, shifting in place. "Come inside with me."

"No."

"Damn it, Sam! You're not leaving, you're not going to get… no, just no!" She felt tears pricking her eyes, the shotgun shaking in her hands.

Sam managed a smile, a sad smile, almost a hint of a smirk in it, an odd smile. "You won't shoot me, Jane." He said finally, confidently, taking a step towards her. "Give me the gun."

"Don't, Sam." She whispered, each step he took forward, she took one back. "Please don't."

"You won't do." His voice was soft as he reached out, his hand covering hers. "You can't."

"Sam," She stared down at his hand, knowing he was right. "We're trying to help you." Jane met his gaze, startled, when she was suddenly jerked forward. He had grabbed the barrel and was aiming it directly at himself, not giving her leeway to aim elsewhere. "Sam!"

"Do it, Jane." He ordered, using the hand that wasn't forcing her to contemplate murdering her to cup her cheek. "It's the only way you're going to stop me." He watched as a tear slid down her pale cheek and knew she wouldn't. Couldn't. Shaking his head, he took the gun from her.

A second later, Jane was sprawled on the pavement, unconscious from knocking her head.

Sam stared at her, his head cocked to the side, for a moment before returning to the car. Bobby or Dean would find her soon enough.


"Well, they found my car."

Jane cracked open an eye, reluctantly, extending her hand to take the ice pack Dean had made up for her. She had woken up to Dean hovering over her, with one hell of a headache and what Bobby had determined was a concussion with a side of 'you'll live'. That would explain the dizziness and nausea. She managed to somewhat follow the conversation, determining that Dean was going to be heading out after Sam and offered him a weak smile when he crouched down beside her. She was laying out on the couch, relatively comfortable, minus the pounding in her skull. "Hey."

"Hi." He brushed her hair back from her forehead, gently running his fingertips further until he felt the goose egg on back of her head. "I could kill him for this, Janey." He muttered, pulling his hand away almost in disgust. "How many times has he put his hands on you this week?"

"He's sick, Dean."

"Ain't we all, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you, you know that, yeah?"

She nodded.

"I was an asshole, the other day. I shouldn't of-"

Jane shook her head, regretting it almost instantly because it did her aches no favors. "Don't bother apologizing Winchester, we both know you'd say it all over again."

"Probably, doesn't change the fact that I didn't mean it. At least, not the last part."

"If this is your idea of apologizing, you suck at it."

"Maybe I'll take it all back…"

"Yeah, you definitely suck."

"I love you, and I'm sorry." He said finally, staring at her intently, all traces of humor gone. "Forgive me?"

She considered him.

"Please, Jane?"