123: Prayers

"We got sixteen hours until they pop purgatory and I'm down one man, I can't afford to be down two," Bobby glanced over at Jane, who was sitting perched on the edge of the bed Sam lay on. "No offense."

"None taken." She had missed a lot during the coma and subsequent kidnapping. It occurred to her that Castiel would have left her in that coma until after he was done playing around with forces and doors he had no business messing with. After reuniting with her family, they had taken a moment to breathe and just enjoy the small win but it had been just that moment. They were running out of time and they had gone off on the only lead they had, someone Bobby had already talked too once.

A woman he had knocked boots with who also wasn't a woman, she was something that had escaped from Purgatory a long time ago. Eleanor. Eleanor had been found in an alley, bleeding profusely and she had spoken of Castiel and Crowley. Jane had remained silent as the woman told them everything she could while she died, Jane already knew all of this. The blood of a virgin, the blood of a Purgatory native, the ritual and the right time, which was coming up on them. That was all information Jane had volunteered as they drove here to meet Bobby, who had been adamant about checking in with Eleanor.

Castiel had appeared and now they were here, in Bobby's panic room with Sam trapped in his own mind because that junkless dick had torn down the wall.

"Like it matters, we don't even know where Crowley and Castiel are." He couldn't catch a break. Dean scoffed, pacing the floor and shot his wife a quick look, as if to reassure himself she was there and awake. Basically, as soon as he got her back, Castiel had taken his brother out of commission. He was getting real tired of Castiel and his bullshit, his new habit of hurting the ones Dean loved.

Bobby grunted, rubbing at his face with his worn, calloused hands before looking at Jane. "Do you know?"

"I don't think so…" she said slowly, racking her memories for that information. To be fair, and she had told them this, when she had been in that coma state but conscious on what was like, the astral plane, she had had a hard time regaining those memories. It was entirely possible that she hadn't gotten them all back, Castiel had blasted her good and proper.

"See? We have nothing. No Sam, Jane's got nothing-" he then glanced down at her, cocking an eyebrow when she accepted the glass of alcohol from Bobby and downed it without blinking. She was still on edge, he didn't blame her, being Crowley's prisoner probably hadn't been pleasant. She hadn't said much about that situation outside of she hadn't been harmed, physically. He bet she had some new mental baggage. "You got nothing, right?"

"I have nothing. I couldn't drop shields here, if they're not in the area, it'd do no good." She wasn't terrified so much as concerned about a potential issue down the road with Crowley again, providing he didn't give up on this pet psychic crap. She couldn't imagine he'd make it an issue, the king of hell had to have some bigger things to worry about. Like the angel who was definitely going to betray him. Out of his heavenly mind or not, Jane just couldn't see Castiel keeping this agreement.

"Like I said, nothing."


They knew where Castiel and Crowley were, thanks to Balthazar, who had played double agent up to a point. Fear was that point, he was terrified of Castiel, Jane couldn't blame him. Castiel was falling into the righteousness trap, it was a very humanlike thing for him to do. While Bobby and Dean took off, she was regulated to babysitting Sam's comatose backside in the demon and angel proofed room. As a consolation, because she hadn't been happy about being parted from her husband after everything that had just happened, Bobby had left her a brand-new bottle of something awesome.

She had every intention of developing an alcohol habit, one that would rival Dean's. Just to cement that new decision, she took a swig from the bottle, her gaze still on Sam. Basically, all these years she had known him, he had been a pain in her ass. She loved him like he was her own flesh and blood, but good goddamn did Sam come with a lot of baggage. She supposed that was all thanks to his being the vessel for the devil.

She blinked, blinked and swore Sam had shaken his head. Maybe she had had a little too much to drink. Then he did it again, his face pulling an expression she categorized as fearful and confused before smoothing out. "Sam?" Jane set aside the bottle and leaned forward in her chair. "Sammy, can you hear me?" After hesitating for a moment, she reached out and placed her palm on his forehead.

Instant pain almost as soon as she began doing her little fake Jedi mind tricks and it took another moment, several of them actually, to get that under control. She couldn't see what was going on, she couldn't tell anything outside of the fact that Sam was fighting in his own mind. That was reassuring, as odd as it seemed, it meant that there was hope and she pulled her hand away. Another drink from the bottle and swiping of her eyes, she was crying. "C'mon Sam, come back to us," she urged in a whisper as she settled back in the chair properly. "Come back to Dean."

The bottle was near her lips for yet another drink, but she never took it. Sam had made another face and she set the liquor down, instead reaching for her gun. He was going to wake up soon and she had no idea which Sam she was getting. She had absolutely no idea what happened in there, what Castiel had unleashed when he had torn down those walls that had protected Sam from his time in hell.

Her began arching, flailing and that was her cue to stand up and put some space between them. "Please…. Be Sam, be our Sam…" she had no idea who she was praying to anymore, but she was praying.


"The Impala…"

Sam weighed a ton. What was the point of all those damn salad shakes and other healthy things if you were going to weigh as much as a baby elephant? He was leaning on her, a gun in his hand and the other arm wrapped around her neck. Jane stared down at the wreck, grateful not to see Bobby or Dean in it. She was carrying her own gun in her free hand, the other wrapped around her now awake brother-in-law, who had definitely not shaken the effects of what had happened yet. He was projecting, a lot, at least to her and she was keeping a firm lid on those shields. Something was up with her ability, something new, it was almost like it was changing, evolving or something. Either way, she didn't have time for it. "Let's go."

"Yeah…" he made an odd noise and lurched, his grip on her tightening for a moment. "Can you sense anything?"

"Major players… and not much else."

"We could be too late."

That was her worst fear. She prayed again.