115: Sorry Jane

Jane didn't really want to die and she knew that Sam would shoot her. But she didn't want to sit by passively while he murdered his surrogate father either. She had no idea what to do and groaned, stepping back towards the dresser when he took another step forward. "Sam, please…"

"Jane, I'm not kidding." He was raising his arm again, taking a aim. "Get me something, now."

Cursing under her breath, she turned and began rifling around in the dresser drawers. There was no rope in here, contrary to what Sam though. She didn't even own nylons…. She never wore them, rarely wore skirts. They weren't dressing up kind of people. "I don't…. I don't have anything, Sam." She could hear the frustration, and potential tears, in her own voice.

"That's all right, sweetheart. I think I can come up with something."

He was right behind her, his breath tickling her ear, and Jane shivered. "Sam…" He had called her sweetheart, only Dean called her that.

He ran the barrel of the gun along the back of her neck, up along her hairline, and then as she turned to face him along her jawline and then her lips. "Close your eyes."

The gun was in her mouth and Jane was trembling from head to toe, feeling nothing but fear and dread balling in the pit of her stomach. Where was Dean? Would he come reap her?

"Now, Janey…"


Bobby was holed up in his closet. It was the same closet he had shared with Jane when they had had what was basically a zombie uprising occur. He remembered that. They had been screwed, stuck here with nowhere to go while zombies tried getting through that door. It had been the boys who had saved them. He'd made a promise back then he'd never be stuck in that position ever again. He'd be damned if he was getting trapped in his own house.

He nearly jumped out of his bones when he heard the doorknob jiggle.

"Bobby…"

"Where's Jane?" He realized she had gone upstairs and after his own incident with Sam in the kitchen, Sam had disappeared too. That was why he was in this closet. Hiding. He hadn't even thought about Jane, figuring she'd be fine. It struck him, belatedly, that she was probably not fine.

"Don't you worry about her."

He took that advice because the door was now being chopped at with an ax. "Please don't say 'here's Johnny'."

"I'm sorry, Bobby, I don't really want to do this," Sam said through the door, loudly, because he was still trying to take it down. "You shouldn't have cornered yourself."

"I didn't." He had vowed he would never wind up stuck in this damn closet again. Bobby reached out, pushing the new shiny button that he hadn't been able to use just yet.


Sam had used the cords from the window blinds to tie her ass up. Jane was not amused, at all. Less amused when he returned, wielding an ax. Her eyes went wide as he approached, screaming around the pair of socks he had stuffed in her mouth. He was going to kill her!

"Oh shut up, Jane." He ordered, swinging the ax.

Her eyes had closed involuntarily, refusing to see what was coming. She heard the sound it made as it split air and then… she was free. Jane shoved herself out of that and at him, trying to hit him, wrench away the ax, and for her troubles she got tossed back into the wall.

"No more." Sam glared down at her. "Bobby is loose out there and you're going to help me find him."

"Like hell…" She muttered, rubbing the back of her head. When she was snatched up by the collar of her shirt, Jane let out another shriek, feeling her toes dragging the floor. "Sam!"

"I'm not playing around Jane. I need Bobby, I need him. So, you're going to help me find him, you understand me?" To emphasize, he shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth.

"What am I supposed to do?" She demanded after her teeth had stopped clenching.

"Use your nifty little ability to find him."

He was joking right? Sam knew how this worked. "Sam…" Another teeth rattling shake and she had to grit them, eyes narrowing. "You know better. It's… I'm not a bloodhound, it's doesn't work like that."

"You've done it before."

"For bad guys! And it's more like a way to avoid them, we just use it to know where they are…" Which she was fairly certain was not how her little handicap was meant to be used.

"Yeah, and you can use that to find Bobby."

"It doesn't work like that Sam, I can't just hone in on someone like that!"

He traced his bottom lip with his thumb, staring at her intently. "Maybe you just need some motivation, sweetheart."

That ability had just kicked into overdrive.


"No!"

It was a loud screech of pain that accented that no, and Bobby felt his heart lurching. That was Jane. He wheeled himself in that direction as fast as he could, cursing the uneven ground as he navigated his junk yard.

"Bobby!" That was Sam's rough voice, deep with anger. "You know I don't want to hurt her!"

"Sure you don't," Bobby muttered under his breath, shotgun resting in his lap. He flinched when another scream pierced the air. Where the hell was Dean when they needed him? "Goddamn it, boy!"

"Sam!"

She sounded so scared, and in pain, and Bobby felt his innards clenching in a ball of fear and impotent rage. What was his raggedy, old, crippled ass going to do? Sam would know he was coming, he would know he had his shotgun, and what good was that going to do him? Was he really going to put himself over Jane? No, he wasn't, and Sam knew it. "Balls!"


Jane was terrified and hurting. It wouldn't have been so bad, the pain, if she had been better prepared for it. It was easier to dismiss pain when you knew it was coming. She had not know that she'd be on the receiving end of a screwdriver to the thigh. She was now officially on board with Sam getting his soul back, she didn't give a rat's ass how tattered and damaged it was. She. Did. Not. Care.

"Huh… Bobby might not come save you, I never even considered that." Sam said thoughtfully, pulling the tool out of her thigh and ignoring the strangled gasp that escaped her probably hurting throat. "Now what, Jane? What do I do with you?" Because obviously, after this, there was no way he was going to be able to walk around a free man. He might've gotten away with something if Bobby was out of the picture, maybe. He had intimidated her into silence before, for awhile, and Dean was usually all forgiving. But with Bobby alive, and able to speak up about the attempt on his life… not so easy to get away with. "Well, I'm sorry, but it seems like I really do have to kill you now, sweetheart."

"Sam…" Jane limped away from him when he let her go, hands clutching her thigh. "Sam, please…"

"I'm sorry, Jane, I really am." He even sounded sorry.

She huddled in the corner of the shed, hands moving up in a defensive gesture. "Sam…" Her eyes shut when he brought down his choice in weapon.

"Hi."

She peeked, feeling her body sagging in relief. Dean was right there, his hand gripping Sam's tightly.

"I'm back."