A/N: Sorry for the late update. Been a bit busy. assignments, hw, exams, mental health crisis... Anyways, enjoy yall...

Everybody Lives

"It was a Rakshasa." John said into the phone. "Dressed as a clown to kill kids."

"Uh-huh." Sam hummed from his side. Everything was quiet for a minute. "How's Dean?"

John glanced at the figure on the motel bed. "Passed out drunk." He could hear Sam sigh. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine. Jess is struggling a little at work. But… she's doing fine too."

"Good." Silence fell over them again.

Dean shifted in his bed and John turned back. "I'll call you later, Sammy."

"Yeah, later, Dad."

Dean reached out onto the other side of the bed, as if looking for someone, only for realisation to dawn over his glossed over eyes. "Fuck." he cursed. And forced his legs over the edge of the bed. "Hey, Dad."

"Hello, son." He grimaced when Dean reached out for another bottle. "Maybe put that down. Go outside. Take a walk." Just things that their resident therapist used to say.

Dean scoffed. "You're gonna start caring now?"

John took a deep breath to keep himself from yelling at the boy to put the bottle down. "I thought you were gonna be driving today." He settled on that instead. "To Bobby's."

His son clicked his tongue. "I don't think I want to."

"You can't–" John ran a hand down his face. "Dean," He tried. The boy didn't even look up. "Son," That at least made the kid flinch. "You can't avoid this forever."

"It's just a bunch of funds. Bobby can handle them."

"It's your name on the will, Dean. Bobby can't even open it."

"Like he can't forge my signature."

"You need to be there in person."

"I can't. Alright? I can't!" Dean yelled.

John kept himself from flinching. "You can, son. You have to. I did it when Mary- when Mary died–"

"It's always about you." Dean snarled. "It's always about you– what you did when Mom died. How you felt when she burned! What about me?! I'm your son. The only person that ever cared for me and I ever cared for, is dead. And all you can do is compare my wife to yours?!"

"She was my daughter too!" John was fuming at this point. "And what do you mean by only person. Does your family mean nothing to you?!"

"You're always pulling that family bullshit on me." Dean heaved. "I gave up everything for this family. And what have you done? Huh? Just chase after some demon. And it was your fault she even went to make that deal. She could have passed on peacefully, but now she's stuck in Hell. And it's all your fault!"

A sharp slap rang out through the motel room. Dean raised his hand to his reddening face and John glowered. "Leave."

"What?" Dean hissed.

"I said. Leave. If it's all my fault, then leave." John's hand stung from the force of the smack. The red of his palms matched the red blooming on Dean's paler than normal cheek.

"I will." Dean muttered, and pushed past his father. He grabbed his bag and the keys to Baby, and left.

The motel room door slammed shut and John slumped back on the chair. This ugly temper of his. He'd lost one of his sons once. And now his daughter was gone. And he'd just chased away the one son that had stuck with him through thick and thin, like his obedient soldier.

He was miserable. Again. And this time, Dean wasn't there to hold his shoulder and whisper "It's gonna be okay, Dad." Because he chased him away.

Sam was, once more, face to face with Dean's shady figure in the middle of his and Jess' apartment in California.

"What do you mean by you ran away?" Sam couldn't believe his ears. "You ran away from Dad?"

Dean shrugged. "He was being a bitch about things that don't matter."

"So-" Sam closed his eyes to calm himself down. "So you wanna crash here for a bit?"

"I was more interested in inviting you to join me again. In hunting."

Sam shook his head. "Look, Dean. I can't. Alright? I just can't."

Dean huffed. "Why not? Look, I'll let you drive Baby if you don't put on hair rock in the car."

"Okay, Dean, first of all. It's not hair rock–"

"Shut it, bitch. You're lying."

"Never, jerk. Your taste in music sucks."

The two brothers cracked a smile. "Alright, man." Sam patted his brother's back. "Why don't you go and clean up a bit? Jess has got some work dinner thing so she'll be here by 8:00."

Dean groaned in relief when Sam took the heavy duffel from his shoulders. "You didn't use up all the hot water did you?"

Sam laughed. "And don't you use all the hot water or else Jess is gonna kick both our asses."

Once Dean was out of the shower, he flopped onto the annoyingly soft couch and flicked through the channels on the TV.

Sam was in the kitchen, cooking up weeds and plants he could have found on the side of the road. 'Organic' Sam called them. Before paying double the price for something that tasted the same even if it were dandelions picked up from the side of the road for free.

He scoffed when Sam presented him with a sandwich with too much lettuce and the bare minimum meat. "Dude, do I look like a rabbit to you?"

"You look like someone who's gonna go into liver failure." Sam nodded towards the empty bottle of beer on the coffee table. Dean shrugged. "Dean, this is gonna kill you."

"Oh yeah?" Dean craned his neck. "Do you not even have mayo in here? Or ketchup?"

"Dean. Listen to me." Dean continued ignoring him. "Dean, this self destructive path isn't gonna help anyone."

Dean grinned when he found his savior in the fridge. "Aha!" He lifted the top piece of bread and drowned the sandwich in the white nectar. "Now this is a sandwich." Sam cringed at the sight and Dean laughed in triumph. "So what's your plan? Law school?"

Sam sighed as he gave up on making Dean talk. "Not yet. I need to finish up my degree plan. I didn't technically graduate college, you know."

"Oh yeah? And when's that gonna happen?"

"Well. I already had enough credits to graduate. I just need my degree sent. Once I have that, I'm planning on going into social work. You know. Help out families. Help out people. I don't think I can take the stress of law school. After… after all this. And it's kind of expensive."

"There's always loans."

"Dean, swallow before you talk." Sam looked away as Dean gave him a grin through a mouthful of food. "Oh that's disgusting." He fake gagged. Dean swallowed and laughed. "I just don't want Jess to feel the pressure of a loan on us. Especially with all of…" He motioned to him and Dean. "All of this. The supernatural things. You know?"

He did know. "How's Jess?"

"Doing pretty good." Sam cleared his throat. "But something's wrong with her."

"What?" Dean leaned forward. "Maybe she's just… processing."

"This isn't that." Sam glanced at the door and then the clock. "She's been staring off into the distance. And sometimes, when she's drunk enough… she tells me that there's a voice in her head."

Dean nodded slowly. "Maybe it all got to her."

"Dude. She's not crazy." Sam frowned. "This is different. I'm telling you. It's- it's almost like when Sharon used to talk about the voice in her head."

Dean flinched at the name. "Yeah, well. Some people just go crazy."

"So–" Sam started thinking out loud. "What if whatever was in Sharon's head is now in Jess' head?"

"Like a demon jumping ship?"

Sam balled up a tissue and threw it at Dean. "Don't call them ships. And no, it's still Jess."

"Maybe you need to take her to a hospital."

"Dean, I'm serious over here. If I thought she was crazy then yeah I would have taken her. But no she's not. You know what she told me last night?"

Dean placed his empty plate back down on the coffee table. "What?"

"She said she saw Sharon in the hospital."

Dean clenched his fists. "I know man. We all saw her."

"No, I mean saw her walking and talking. Even when she was in the bed."

"Alright. Back up, Sammy. Are you drunk? You're not making any sense. Man, I knew you were a lightweight but this takes the cake."

"Jess said she saw Sharon's soul."

"Okay? Maybe she's been going crazy since the whole thing. The doctors probably missed the concussion."

"She couldn't say anything else after that. It was like cat got her tongue. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get the words out." Sam's hazel eyes were blown wide in panic. "I asked her to write it out, and she couldn't. Dean, it's the same thing. Whatever was in Sharon's head is now in Jess' and I-I don't know what to do."

Dean leaned back in disbelief. "I don't know what's going on either. Is she fine otherwise?"

"Yeah. Everything else is fine."

Dean frowned. He knew that tone. "You're not telling me something."

"There's nothing else."

"No there is." Dean grabbed his brother's shoulder and forced him to look up. "I know that tone, Sammy. I've known you all your life. What is it?"

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again. "I don't know how to say this. But– her wounds, her scars– everything is gone. She's, like, baby skin clean."

Surely Sam was exaggerating. "Whatever skin cream she's using, let me know. I've got this one nasty scar down my leg that scares the ladies–"

"I'm not kidding."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. "So if you're not exaggerating, then what the fuck is going on? Actually, when were you gonna tell us about this?"

"I didn't know how to bring it up!"

Dean sighed and stood up. What the hell was going on? First the voice in the head. And now there was some magical healing shit going on? Man, his family was more fucked up than he'd originally thought. "This is crazy."

"I was hoping… Dad would have answers."

Dean stiffened. "I'm not talking to that man."

"Jess' life could be on the line."

Dean shook his head. "You talk to him, then. I'm gonna go for a drive."

Dean pulled the door open and stalked out, ignoring his brother's cries for him to wait.

The local dive bar wasn't bad. The bartenders were efficient. The guys playing pool looked rich. And the ladies at the club were throwing it back and getting down and dirty on the dance floor.

He nodded to the bartender as he took his drink and made his way over to a redhead dangling her bare shaved legs off her barstool. She immediately met his eyes and smiled, leaning forwards so her cleavage was on full display.

"Hey there." she smiled.

Dean smiled back and took a seat next to her.

"You new to town?" Her voice rose in pitch. "Don't think I've seen you here before."

"Yeah. Just moved in with my brother." He could smell her sweet perfume when he leaned in closer. "You a local?"

"Oh you betcha." She waved over one of the bartenders. "I'll buy you a drink?"

"Nah." Dean slid over a twenty. "My treat."

The woman giggled. "What a gentleman."

His breath hitched when the woman's hand landed on his arm, tracing over every muscle under his jacket. "The Mrs. doesn't treat you well?"

"Mrs.?" Dean finally realised he hadn't switched over the ring to his other hand. The silver suddenly felt like it was burning into his skin. "Nah, she's… she's, uh, not present."

"Oh you poor thing." the woman on his arm cooed. Clearly she didn't think too much of him being married. "My name's Rachel."

"Dean."

"Cute name for a hot guy like you." Her breasts were pressed against his arm now and her hands were tracing over his shoulders. "You work out a lot?"

Everyday. He hunted monsters. "You could say that." he grabbed the glass that was slid over to him and took a shot. "What kinda work do you do–?" He'd almost said sweetheart. He used to throw around the pet name so much. But it felt like a taboo now.

"I'm a waitress." the woman smiled. "What about you?"

"Mechanic." The lies flowed so easily. "Well, I used to be. And then I moved. And… well, I'm still looking for a job–" God the woman's lips were so close to his. "I guess."

He could smell her perfume and the alcohol. Nothing like her. Nothing like the memories he had of cheap cherry blossom perfume and natural coconut oil. He kissed the woman moaning into him now. Right at the bar. The bartenders were rolling their eyes and someone in the corner was cheering.

This woman– what was her name again– was thin, so thin he could feel her hip bones under his palms and through her dress unlike her. He didn't even have to lean over as much to reach her lips, unlike her. And the way she moaned into his mouth without any reserve was also unlike her. Her hair was a fiery red ending just at her shoulders, unlike her. He squeezed his eyes shut. It had been two months already. And the woman he was currently chasing was nothing like her so why was he still thinking of her?

His phone rang just then and he pulled back from the heated kiss. "One sec, sorry." he apologised and picked it up. "Hey, this is Dean… Sammy?" His heart stopped. "What do you mean? She's not back?" He checked his watch. Almost 9:15. "None of her coworkers know where she is…? She didn't stop by somewhere, did she?" He stood up and muttered a quick apology to Raven – 'Rachel!' the woman shrieked and cursed at him. But he had more important matters to attend to. "Tell me where she last was."

Baby skidded to a stop when he finally reached the restaurant where Jess had last been reported.

"Sam!" he called out to the young man standing next to a lifted truck. Their Dad's truck. "Why's he here?!"

His Dad leaned to the side to see him more clearly. "Can we not fight?" the older man pleaded. "It feels like that's all we do these days."

His Dad was right. The fights didn't even make him feel any better. If anything it just made him want to scream till his throat ripped and drink till he passed out. Anything to stop her sweet words in his head and to drown out the aching need to hold her while he rested.

Dean Winchester was petty, but not enough to let his brother and his Dad look like they were going to burst into tears. "Fine. We can stop fighting." He turned to Sam. "So what do we got?"

"Nothing." Sam shook. "Just the bike outside."

Jess had insisted on taking Sharon's ride. The suspensions had been lowered to accommodate Jess' longer legs, but everything else about it was still pristine. And no mud. Sharon would be proud. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Her friends said that she'd only had one beer." Sam continued. "She doesn't get drunk unless she's had at least ten." He gave a loving snort. "And she's not the kind to leave a place by herself even if she is drunk."

"Demons?" Dean proposed. "They've taken her once before."

"Can't be. Sharon made a deal."

"But they're demons. We can't just trust them."

His Dad shook his head. "I hate to admit it, son. But it's true. They're keeping up their end of the bargain. No demon activity has occurred anywhere around us. They're leaving us alone."

Sam sank to the ground. "Then where is Jess?"

"Can we track her location?"

Sam held up a phone. "Found it inside. It's like she just got up, and left." He jerked his head towards his Dad's truck. "Dad's got her bag."

"The police are already looking. But they haven't found anything either." Their Dad noted. "And don't worry, Sam and I did a sweep before they could even touch the place."

"So we have nothing." Dean clenched his fists at his side. "Alright." he started pacing. "Eyewitness accounts. What are her friends saying?"

Sam ran a hand down his face. "Her friends said she got up to go to the restroom and just... never came back."

Their Dad nodded. "We should check the back door. We retrace her steps. Sam, you said she had one beer? That means she was still sober, aware."

Dean continued. "She was on foot too. What about security cameras?"

"None." Sam answered.

"Let's head to the back. See what we can find from there." Their Dad led them past the police tape, hiding in the shadows of the establishment and dodging sight of the police.

"They're too busy filing paperwork." Sam scoffed.

"And that's why we get paid the bigger bucks." Dean joked.

They ducked behind a wall when a flashlight threatened to notify the police of their presence.

"Silence, boys." Dad warned them once the light was gone.

The three of them continued down the alleyway behind the restaurant.

"Footprints." The oldest Winchester grunted at the slight imprints on the dirt where the gravel ended.

Dean's boots crunched over the final piece of gravel and stepped onto soft dirt. He crouched down and motioned Sam over. "That look like her shoe size?"

Sam placed his own boot next to the imprint and nodded. "That's hers."

They followed the trail, moving together in tense silence. The footprints took them past a row of dumpsters, down a side street that led toward a quiet, overgrown lot near an old auto shop.

Dean's gut twisted. His Dad sighed next to him. "The footprints end here."

Sam cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "Jess! Jess– if you can hear me—"

"Son." Sam looked up when his father grabbed his shoulder.

Dean ran over to the blonde woman slumped behind a car, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. He was shoved to the side by Sam, who grabbed his girlfriend's shoulders. "Jess, Jess, hey, Jess, please. Please talk to me–" He raised his hands when his hands felt cold. Red liquid coated them, seeping into his jacket. "Dean, Dad, what do we do? Blood– there's so much blood–"

Dean kept his voice steady for his brother. "Calm down, Sammy. It's not hers. She's not injured. Look." Dean raised the hem of her top and Sam breathed in shakily. "See? Not hers." Dean was right. Not a single scratch on her.

And then their Dad asked the million dollar question. "So if it's not hers, then whose is it?"

Jess woke up gasping. Where was she? She reached out for something and her hands landed on something solid. Something familiar. "Sam?" she choked on her own breath.

"Jess." Hands were gripping her and helping her up. "Jess, what happened?"

"Where am I?"

"Home. You're home."

Jess looked around frantically. Yeah, she was home. In her apartment. And Sam was with her. "Sam," she reached for him and her boyfriend rubbed her back. "I'm okay."

"Yeah, you're okay." he kissed her head and sat down next to her on the bed. "Can you tell us what happened?"

Us? Jess looked around, and realised that Dean and John were sitting on the other side of the bed in chairs dragged over from the dining room. She closed her eyes as she tried to remember. "I wasn't in control of my body."

Sam looked fearful at the statement. "What do you mean?"

"No, I didn't do anything bad. Or whatever was possessing me." Jess felt around her throat. It was like the thing that had been preventing her from speaking had let loose. Just a little. "The voice in my head. It's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yeah, I don't know how I can tell. But it's just– it's just gone. I could always feel it in the back of my mind scratching and itching, but there's nothing now."

Sam's fingers were gentle as they threaded through her hair. "Did they hurt you?"

"No." she shook her head. "It actually felt like I was being… healed." She had no words for it. She had felt lighter, stronger, better than she had ever felt. And her mind had been at ease.

"Is that the same thing that healed every scar?" Dean asked.

She nodded. "It felt like it. But stronger."

"And then what?" John's voice rumbled.

"There was this other person. Man or woman I couldn't exactly tell– but they were on the ground bleeding. And I asked them, but it wasn't really me asking, whether they wanted to be saved from this cruel world? And if so then to say yes… I think they said yes. And then nothing…" She reached for her head as if it would give her a more concrete explanation. "It was like I was empty. Like whatever had possessed me, literally, left."

"But you're not hurt." Sam asked gently.

"No." She cracked a smile. "I'm fine."

"Sam also mentioned something else." Dean leaned forwards, his green eyes searching her blue. "That you saw her, before she died."

She? Oh, Sharon. "I did. She said it was her soul."

"I saw her too. In the hospital, correct?" John raised an eyebrow.

Jess nodded. "She was with us the whole time, until she wasn't."

"Yeah? Well, that's gonna be us someday." Dean gave a humorless laugh. It pained Jess, and it pained Sam and John too. "Here one day, not here the next." He pushed himself off the chair and walked out of the room. "Get well soon, Jess."

"It's gonna be okay." Jess whispered. She wasn't sure how. But it was all gonna be okay.

Dean finally made the trek to Bobby's. With Sam in tow. Dad had driven off somewhere with the promise of calling in at least once a day. And like hell Dean was gonna try and make that man go with him to Bobby's, not after that dumb huge fight they'd had several years ago.

"So you're just gonna be here with me?" Dean looked to his right where Sam was tapping his fingers along to the song on the radio.

"Yeah. Whatever's haunting Jess… and was haunting Sharon… I wanna know what it was."

"To keep it from possessing more people?"

"Kind of. Yeah." Sam gave him that worried puppy eyed look.

Dean flinched. "Yeah? Well. Lemme get this paperwork sorted out and we can be on our merry jolly way to do just that."