Why Am I Here? Chapter 5: Pilot: The Woman in White (M), a supernatural fanfic

Pilot (The Woman In White)

October 29th 2005,

A sharp knock on the door pulled me from my latest art project. Who in the world was knocking at 1:00AM?

"I'll get the door." Bobby sighed and waded through the piles of discarded colored paper on the floor. I would have to clean that up before someone tripped or threw them away.

"Thanks Bobby," I squinted at the stupid circle I was trying to cut out.

"Dean." Bobby said from the door.

"Hey," I glanced at the incoming man at the door before going back to my circle.

"What the hell is all this?" Dean grumbled. "Great, now I have flowers stuck under my shoe."

"You stepped on my flowers?! Do you have any idea how long it took to make them?"

"Goddammit woman, then don't leave them lying around!"

"Who comes knocking at the door at 1:00 in the morning?!"

"Who does arts and crafts at 1:00 in the morning!"

"Alright. Why don't you two stop arguing for one second. Dean, what brings you here?" Bobby stepped aside to let Dean through.

Then came the words that started the whole mess that was Supernatural. "Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days."

No. No way. It was happening.

"Well shucks kid. Maybe something unexpected happened. Beer?"

"Yeah, thanks Bobby." Dean sat down opposite my chair.

"Don't touch anything." I warned.

"Yeah, yeah." he drawled. "What're you making sweetheart?"

"Posters for the classroom."

"You still bartending?"

"On occasion when someone calls in."

Things were silent for a bit as Bobby and Dean inhaled their beer.

"Why're you here?" 'Instead of Stanford' remained stuck in my throat.

"I thought you could help me find Dad. I'm gonna grab Sam too. If something is going to happen, then we should all be together. This is when everything starts right?"

I couldn't answer, so I just stuck a flower on the trifold.

"Since you have a pretty good idea of what happens. I thought you could help."

"It's not like she can talk about it. Why drag her into your mess?" Bobby swirled his bottle of beer.

"Because! If something is gonna happen I would much rather we all stay together and look out for each other."

"That makes no sense. She can't do anything that goes against what happens in this world. She tried to prevent Sam from going to Stanford, and look where that got us. You got us here."

"Look, hey. I just wanted Sam to have a good life for a little bit, alright? And if something is going to happen to him at Stanford, then we just have to drag him out. Am I right?"

Again, I couldn't say anything. Yes, something bad happened to him at Stanford, but him being away wasn't going to change anything. He had to be in the room when Jessica died if he wanted to even have a chance at saving her. All those words never managed to escape from my mouth. It was frustrating.

"I don't think I can help." I said.

"Oh, come on. Mental support and all that."

"Dean, I have a job."

"Say it's a family emergency. Which it is."

"That's it. I'm going to bed. You kids sort this out." Bobby slammed his empty bottle on the table before picking his way out of the mess on the floor. "Let me know if you stay or not. I'm gonna catch a few hours."

"Sounds good, Bobby. Good night." I waved him away.

"Night Bobby," Dean chimed after me. "Okay, so. Just come with me, alright? It's the weekend. And it's a long weekend. You can be back on Wednesday–"

"Classes start on Tuesday." I corrected.

"Right. That. But Sharon– I don't wanna face Sam by myself. I mean he's pretty pissed right now.

"He's upset at me too." I pointed out.

"That's cause you told him to break up with the girl of his dreams." Dean scoffed. "I would be pissed if someone told me that too."

"You don't understand." I sighed. But it wasn't like I could make him understand either.

"It's fine." Dean shrugged. "He's just being a little hormonal teenager right now."

"He's 22 Dean."

"Is he now?" He seemed almost surprised. "I'll be damned."

"He did grow like a weed." I smiled to myself.

"Well, he's still hormonal." Dean leaned back against his chair, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt pulled taut against his muscles and I found myself enjoying the view.

"Enjoying the view?" Dean smirked and leaned back forward on the table. He watched me glue a few more things together before speaking again. "So, uh. Are you coming?"

I paused in my project. Maybe, just maybe. We could change things. I was here now. Maybe I could save Jessica. Maybe I could give all of us a good ending. It wouldn't be all happy, but we could all live. Maybe. "Sure, let me pack a bag. And put in a letter of resignation."

"Wait, wait, wait. Resignation?" Dean stared at me with wide eyes. "You land the job of your dreams and now you want to resign? You know we're only looking for Dad right?"

"You're the one who invited me to join you. And let me tell you, I enjoyed the show a lot." Hopefully he would get the hint. He did get the hint. He nodded. "I'll tell Bobby and open up Baby."

"Alright."

"Hey Bobby!" Dean yelled.

I rolled my eyes as Bobby stomped out of the master bedroom and the two launched into a yelling match. Packing my bags didn't take long.

Seven sets of undergarments, seven sets of tops, seven sets of jeans, and skirts… and a couple of good dresses.

"Don't forget to pack a suit!" Dean yelled.

Oh damn. This was gonna be one huge bag. I grinned. I'd been waiting to break out that new black suitcase since forever.

31st October 2005,

"We're really gonna do this?" I looked up at the student apartments right by Stanford. "We don't even need Sam for this."

"I… I kind of want to do this as a family. I don't think I can do this with just you."

"You don't trust me?"

"Not that sweetheart. It's just that… uh… he's been in this his… whole life… and you kind of just… plopped in randomly."

His comment almost stung a little. The silver wedding band on my left ring finger felt like it was digging into my skin, even though it wasn't. Dean had measured my finger in my sleep at some point and melted a silver round into the perfect sized ring. The moonlight hit his matching ring as he opened the door to the Impala and headed for Sam's unit.

I stayed in the car, trying to figure out what to do. We needed to save Jessica. But how. Dean refused to go without Sam. He wanted his family back together. And if Sam wasn't here to get Jessica out when Azazel hit then we were screwed. But I knew how long it would take for this case to finish and Jessica would be long dead before we got back. I leaned against the black leather seats. It was going to be okay. Sam and Dean were going to be okay. And I would be okay too. It was just a simple case. Woman in white commits suicide haunts everything and once she makes amends with her children we would be good. But Jessica wouldn't be. My head hurt. Wait, what if I stayed with Jessica instead? Wouldn't that save her?

Miss me?

I jolted upright. It was the angel that had dragged me into all of this.

You seem to have quite the situation on your hands.

Yeah, no kidding. It was already hitting the fan. Now why was this angel talking to me again?

Just here to remind you of your purpose. Set things right. Save all those souls who died because the Winchesters were too focused on their own issues.

Yeah. Like Jo and Ellen. They both didn't need to die. Neither did Jessica.

You've passed the point of saving Jessica.

What?

No matter what you do, Jessica Moore will not survive.

What? Why? I had a chance to save her. I just needed to stay with her and get her out of that apartment before anything happened to her. Shoot Azazel or something!

She will die no matter what. Azazel has his eyes on her. She'll die if she even tries to use the bathroom. They will make sure of it.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyelids. I needed this to make sense. So Jessica was going to die no matter what. I should have stopped Sam from going to Stanford. Stopped him from getting to know Jessica. Stopped all of this– This was all my fault–

You haven't considered one other option.

Other option? I thought long and hard. What other option did I have?

Think.

Okay, so why in the world was this guy– no, girl– but they/them?– whatever– even giving me options?

It's fun to watch you struggle. Or so I am told.

Fun? Who was having fun with this? I felt fidgety. The world was starting to spin. My heartbeat was faster. I felt cold. It felt like I couldn't breathe. But I had to.

In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. I blinked and tried to focus on my surroundings. The handle of the glovebox. It was good enough.

Slowly, my head stopped spinning and I could think again. The other option… I could stay with Jessica. Make sure she lived.

Bravo! Took you long enough!

Shut up. I told the voice in my head. Why did it even pop up after so long? And why now?

Because it is starting my dear. It all starts today. Your tragedy.

My tragedy? What tragedy? Like my life wasn't already tragic enough. But if that angel thing in my head suggested staying with Jessica… then was there the slightest chance that she could be saved?

…

I waited for an answer.

…

Nothing? Seriously? What the hell?

I nodded, steeling myself. I was going to figure this out myself. I opened the doors of the Impala and walked around to the back. I popped open the false bottom of the trunk and grabbed a bag of rocksalt, and a flask of holy water, along with prayer beads, throwing them into a duffel bag. I felt the belt around my waist. Good, my gun was still there. They wouldn't kill Azazel but it would keep him down long enough for me to chant the spell, and get it sorted out. Azazel would be dead. Jessica would live. Sammy would be happy, so Dean would be happy. And then John and Dean could continue to save people. We would all be happy.

I covered the weapons with a couple of clothes, just enough to hide the questionable things underneath.

As I approached the door and grabbed the handle, it was forcefully swung open by Sam.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered.

"What's with all the–" Dean spotted the gun I was carrying under my black leather jacket.

"Um, why is she here?" Sam's words were like a knife. The way he looked at me with disdain felt like the knife was being twisted into me.

"Sam!" Dean admonished his brother. He turned to me. "I thought you were waiting in the car."

"It might be best if I stayed." I said looking at the floor. I couldn't look Sam in the eye.

"I kind of wanted you with me while we looked." Dean sounded frustrated.

I flinched. "Dean, Sam, please. It's for the best. I know what I'm doing."

"Then at least put those away." Sam shook his head at the gun in my waistband.

"They're for self defense."

"From what?" Sam scoffed. "I don't exactly want to leave you of all people here with Jess." He quickly glanced around and dropped his voice. "You wanted me to break up with her. I trusted you. I thought you wanted me to have a normal life." He was seething. And rightfully so. I would be mad too if someone just waltzed into my seemingly perfect life and told me to break up with the love of my life.

"I'm sorry. But I'm here to make up for it."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" Sam snorted.

"Sam. You know she knows everything that's going to happen–" Dean tried to defend me again.

"And she can't even tell us anything." Sam dropped his hands in exasperation. "Fine. Stay here. But if anything happens to Jess, I will hunt you down."

Dean stepped in between us. "You want to hunt her? You'll have to go through me Sam. She wasn't the one who walked out on family. It was you."

"Please don't fight with each other." I tugged Dean away from Sam.

"Sam? Is everything okay?" Jessica asked from top of the stairs. She was peeking out of their apartment.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine." Sam fixed me with a glare. "This is Dean's wife, Sharon. Sharon's going to be staying here while Dean and I go look for our Dad. because the apartment will be empty, and it's not safe for a young woman to be alone." He pressed his lips into a smile for Jessica. "Call me if anything happens. Anything, Jess."

"Of course, baby."

He and Jessica met halfway on the stairs and took a long deep kiss. Dean watched on, amused by the display.

"We could have our own kiss." Dean spun me around and knelt down for a quick kiss. It was really quick. I didn't even have time to wrap my arms around him. But this might be the last time I could ever kiss the man. If what I had in mind failed, then this would be the last time we saw each other.

I grabbed the collar of his flannel and pulled him down. He made a small sound of surprise but leaned in, his tongue meeting mine this time.

Sam clearing his throat made Dean straighten up with a roll of his eyes. I clung onto the sleeve of his jacket a little while longer.

"Take care Sam. And it was nice to meet you Dean." Jessica waved with a smile. "Come on up, Sharon." She gestured into hers and Sam's apartment.

I dragged my duffel bag up the stairs, thanking Jessica as she held the door open. She was beautiful. And tall. Standing at least at 5'11" and nearly 6'. I looked tiny next to her. Her curly golden hair was the opposite of my straight black hair, and her legs and arms were clean shaven. Not even the hint of a mustache on her pale face.

"Something on my face?" She asked.

"Oh no. It's just that– You're so beautiful."

She laughed. God, even her laughter was heavenly. "Why thank you!" She shuffled around a bit before gesturing towards the bed. "You can have the bed."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly." I dropped my bag on the couch. "You might be more comfortable on the bed than on the couch." considering she was nearly as tall as Dean.

She gave me a small smile before settling back into the bed. "So. Sharon, right?"

"Yeah." How did you have a conversation again? "Um. I'm sorry to just… barge in."

"Oh, no. It's alright. I understand." She quickly said. "I'm assuming no one in the family wants to be alone… with Mr. Winchester missing." She nodded her head. "I completely understand. So, please. Make yourself at home."

I nodded. She was amazing. "Yeah. Thanks."

She turned off the light by the desk and walked into the bedroom. I laid down on the couch and ran my fingers over my gun. Jessica. Sweet sweet Jessica. I had to keep her safe. I wouldn't let her die. Not ever. Even if I myself died, I had to keep her alive. For Sam. Dean always said his happy ending was Sam having a life. A wife, kids, grandkids. Dean lived through Sam. And if Sam being happy made him happy, then it would make me happy too. Tears started falling and I wiped furiously at them. Damn my emotions.

Sleep didn't come to me. I ended up staring at the popcorn ceiling of the apartment. It felt so… normal. The worn out leather of the couch reminded me of my family's living room, where my brother and I would fight for the bigger couch. The lamp on the table next to the couch reminded me of my old night lamp that lit up with a touch, and at night if I touched it on accident my parents would come rushing, wondering what was wrong.

The alarm clock rang sharply at 6:00 AM. I sat up straight as Jessica stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing her head. She pressed her lips together as her body lurched forwards just a little, but nothing left her mouth.

Typical signs of a hangover. I'd seen John, Dean, Bobby, and Sam do enough of that to know it by heart. Not to mention the drunks at the bar.

"Morning." I said.

She jumped, whirling around to face me. "Oh," she put a hand over her heart. "Sorry, I–"

"Rough night." I flashed her what I hoped looked like a friendly smile. "Do you have something for it?"

"Yeah." she nodded and reached for one of the many cabinets, pulling out a small bottle of pills. "Coffee?" She popped the pill in her mouth, swallowing it without any water. Not her first rodeo, clearly.

"Yes, please. I'm going to wash up." I grabbed my duffel and headed for the bathroom. I grabbed onto the sink. I lifted my head to check my face in the mirror. Dammit. The mirror had been moved up by a couple of inches. I could only see till my chin if I took a step back. Damn tall people.

I ran my fingers over my face. My cheeks were dry, my lips were cracking, and there was a pimple forming right on my chin. Screw it.

"Feel free to borrow my sunscreen!" Jessica yelled.

"Thanks!" I yelled back. What a nice girl.

It would be terrible if something happened to her.

I jumped as the voice entered my head again.

Come now, don't be so surprised. You have to be ready for tomorrow, don't you?

Tomorrow. Nov 2, 2005. The day Jessica died.

Make it interesting, won't you?

I took a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a fresh pair of clothes, and wandered into the kitchen where Jessica was pouring out a second cup of coffee.

"Can I have five spoons of sugar?" I asked hesitantly.

She blinked in surprise but nodded. "Of course."

I stirred the spoon in the coffee until most of the sugar was dissolved before sipping at it.

"So, um." Jessica sat across from me at the dining table. She fiddled with her fingers, her eyes flickering from my wedding ring to her own empty left ring finger. "Sam told me that… you didn't like me. And forgive me if I'm wrong, but… I got the opposite impression…?"

Oh god. He'd mentioned the fight to her. Of course he had. She was his lover, soon to be fiancee, and then wife. Until she burned of course. Until Azazel got to her.

"Sorry. It's not that I don't like you." I answered truthfully. "You're an amazing woman. And I can see that clearly. You two make each other happy." Now for the lies. "It's just that– back then I didn't know what kind of a person you were– And– he's my baby brother too. I can't help but worry about him. But I now see I was wrong. I'm sorry." Really, I was sorry.

Jessica smiled. "It's alright. I know what it's like to watch your brother trust a complete stranger. Sam told me that you guys knew each other for almost eight years."

"Yeah. Eight long years."

Her manicured nails tapped against her coffee mug. "I'm glad to hear that you don't hate me." She brought her head down to her hands in relief and laughed. "I don't exactly want to be on the wrong side of his family."

"Oh, no. I completely understand." I grasped her hand. "Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all."

She nodded. "Thank you."

I'd forgotten what it was like to be with a woman around my age. Always being surrounded by traumatised men nearly made me forget the excitement of having your nails done by someone else. Jessica gave me a full on homemade manicure. I helped her pick out a dress for the day. We watched garbage soaps where there were too many plot twists. We even went out shopping, stopping at antique stores and looking at jewellery. We did pretty much nothing productive. Until Jessica came up with the idea of baking cookies.

"Want cookies?"

"It's 11:30 PM."

"And?"

"Good point. We have all the ingredients?" I asked.

"Yep." She was flitting about the cupboards, pulling out pots and pans from the top shelf. "The chocolate chips are on the bottom shelf."

I nodded and placed them on the counter. She and I looked at each other before both reaching into the container and munching on the chocolate chips.

"Chocolate forever." I raised the container in a gesture of cheers.

"To chocolate." She went along with my joke and reached in for another fistful. I liked her. I would love to have her as a sister in law. My gun felt heavier around my waist every time I looked at the clock. It was ticking closer and closer to midnight. Closer to November 2, 2005.

My phone rang all of a sudden. I checked the caller ID. 'Dean Winchester'

"Hey," I said into the phone.

"Everything alright?" he asked. He sounded like he was still getting into the car.

"Yeah." But in another 15 minutes, it wouldn't be. "How long till you get here?"

"Give us like– 30 minutes."

"Could you drive faster?" I asked.

"Uh– yeah sure." The door to the Impala was closed shut, followed by another door slam. "Is Sam okay? Are you two okay?"

"Yeah. We're fine. Sammy's just got his panties in a twist because his interview is tomorrow."

I looked at the clock. "It's almost midnight. He's not gonna get enough sleep. Get him here fast."

His voice grew worried. "Sweetheart. Are you sure you guys are okay?" Baby revved to life and I heard her tires screeching as Dean got onto the road with her.

"We're still fine." My hands were going cold, and clammy. I felt shivers go down my spine. We were so close. So close.

"Put Jessica on the phone. Lover boy wants to talk to her."

"Yeah." I handed Jessica the phone. "Sam wants to talk." Hopefully she didn't notice the shakiness or the coldness of my hands.

The two launched into a conversation. Jessica's face lit up every time Sam spoke on the other end of the line. She looked so happy.

The clock continued ticking.

3 minutes till the fated time.

Why was he here again?

Here to teach you something.

Teach me what?

You'll know when the time comes.

…

Two minutes now, darling. Get ready.

Salt. I needed salt. I grabbed the rocksalt from my duffel bag and started lining the doors and windows.

"Sharon? What are you doing?"

She was still on the phone.

30 seconds.

Okay, salt done. Shotgun. Pistol in my belt.

"Sharon? Is that a gun? What are you–"

"Stay back, Jessica."

3… 2… 1.

October 29th 2005,

A sharp knock on the door pulled me from my latest art project. Who in the world was knocking at 1:00AM?

"I'll get the door." Bobby sighed and waded through the piles of discarded colored paper on the floor. I would have to clean that up before someone tripped or threw them away.

"Thanks Bobby," I squinted at the stupid circle I was trying to cut out.

"Dean." Bobby said from the door.

"Hey," I glanced at the incoming man at the door before going back to my circle.

"What the hell is all this?" Dean grumbled. "Great, now I have flowers stuck under my shoe."

"You stepped on my flowers?! Do you have any idea how long it took to make them?"

"Goddammit woman, then don't leave them lying around!"

"Who comes knocking at the door at 1:00 in the morning?!"

"Who does arts and crafts at 1:00 in the morning!"

"Alright. Why don't you two stop arguing for one second. Dean, what brings you here?" Bobby stepped aside to let Dean through.

Then came the words that started the whole mess that was Supernatural. "Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days."

No. No way. It was happening.

"Well shucks kid. Maybe something unexpected happened. Beer?"

"Yeah, thanks Bobby." Dean sat down opposite my chair.

"Don't touch anything." I warned.

"Yeah, yeah." he drawled. "What're you making sweetheart?"

"Posters for the classroom."

"You still bartending?"

"On occasion when someone calls in."

Things were silent for a bit as Bobby and Dean inhaled their beer.

"Why're you here?" 'Instead of Stanford' remained stuck in my throat.

"I thought you could help me find Dad. I'm gonna grab Sam too. If something is going to happen, then we should all be together. This is when everything starts right?"

I couldn't answer, so I just stuck a flower on the trifold.

"Since you have a pretty good idea of what happens. I thought you could help."

"It's not like she can talk about it. Why drag her into your mess?" Bobby swirled his bottle of beer.

"Because! If something is gonna happen I would much rather we all stay together and look out for each other."

"That makes no sense. She can't do anything that goes against what happens in this world. She tried to prevent Sam from going to Stanford, and look where that got us. You got us here."

"Look, hey. I just wanted Sam to have a good life for a little bit, alright? And if something is going to happen to him at Stanford, then we just have to drag him out. Am I right?"

"I don't think I can help." I said.

"Oh, come on. Mental support and all that."

"Dean, I have a job."

"Say it's a family emergency. Which it is."

"Sounds good, Bobby. Good night." I waved him away.

"Night Bobby," Dean chimed after me. "Okay, so. Just come with me, alright? It's the weekend. And it's a long weekend. You can be back on Wednesday–"

"Classes start on Tuesday." I corrected.

"Right. That. But Sharon– I don't wanna face Sam by myself. I mean he's pretty pissed right now.

"He's upset at me too." I pointed out.

"That's cause you told him to break up with the girl of his dreams." Dean scoffed. "I would be pissed if someone told me that too."

"You don't understand." I sighed. But it wasn't like I could make him understand either.

"It's fine." Dean shrugged. "He's just being a little hormonal teenager right now."

"He's 22 Dean."

"Is he now?" He seemed almost surprised. "I'll be damned."

"He did grow like a weed." I smiled to myself.

"Well, he's still hormonal." Dean leaned back against his chair, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt pulled taut against his muscles and I found myself enjoying the view.

"Enjoying the view?" Dean smirked and leaned back forward on the table. He watched me glue a few more things together before speaking again. "So, uh. Are you coming?"

"Wait, wait, wait. Resignation?" Dean stared at me with wide eyes. "You land the job of your dreams and now you want to resign? You know we're only looking for Dad right?"

"You're the one who invited me to join you. And let me tell you, I enjoyed the show a lot." Hopefully he would get the hint. He did get the hint. He nodded. "I'll tell Bobby and open up Baby."

"Alright."

"Hey Bobby!" Dean yelled.

I rolled my eyes as Bobby stomped out of the master bedroom and the two launched into a yelling match. Packing my bags didn't take long.

Seven sets of undergarments, seven sets of tops, seven sets of jeans, and skirts… and a couple of good dresses.

"Don't forget to pack a suit!" Dean yelled.

Oh damn. This was gonna be one huge bag. I grinned. I'd been waiting to break out that new black suitcase since forever.

31st October 2005,

"We're really gonna do this?" I looked up at the student apartments right by Stanford. "We don't even need Sam for this."

"I… I kind of want to do this as a family. I don't think I can do this with just you."

"You don't trust me?"

"Not that sweetheart. It's just that… uh… he's been in this his… whole life… and you kind of just… plopped in randomly."

Miss me?

I jolted upright. It was the angel that had dragged me into all of this.

You seem to have quite the situation on your hands.

Yeah, no kidding. It was already hitting the fan. Now why was this angel talking to me again?

Just here to remind you of your purpose. Set things right. Save all those souls who died because the Winchesters were too focused on their own issues.

Yeah. Like Jo and Ellen. They both didn't need to die. Neither did Jessica.

You've passed the point of saving Jessica.

What?

No matter what you do, Jessica Moore will not survive.

What? Why? I had a chance to save her. I just needed to stay with her and get her out of that apartment before anything happened to her. Shoot Azazel or something!

She will die no matter what. Azazel has his eyes on her. She'll die if she even tries to use the bathroom. They will make sure of it.

You haven't considered one other option.

Other option? I thought long and hard. What other option did I have?

Think.

Okay, so why in the world was this guy– no, girl– but they/them?– whatever– even giving me options?

It's fun to watch you struggle. Or so I am told.

Fun? Who was having fun with this? I felt fidgety. The world was starting to spin. My heartbeat was faster. I felt cold. It felt like I couldn't breathe. But I had to.

Slowly, my head stopped spinning and I could think again. The other option… I could stay with Jessica. Make sure she lived.

Bravo! Took you long enough!

Shut up. I told the voice in my head. Why did it even pop up after so long? And why now?

Because it is starting my dear. It all starts today. Your tragedy.

My tragedy? What tragedy? Like my life wasn't already tragic enough. But if that angel thing in my head suggested staying with Jessica… then was there the slightest chance that she could be saved?

…

I waited for an answer.

…

Nothing? Seriously? What the hell?

I covered the weapons with a couple of clothes, just enough to hide the questionable things underneath.

As I approached the door and grabbed the handle, it was forcefully swung open by Sam.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered.

"What's with all the–" Dean spotted the gun I was carrying under my black leather jacket.

"Um, why is she here?" Sam's words were like a knife. The way he looked at me with disdain felt like the knife was being twisted into me.

"Sam!" Dean admonished his brother. He turned to me. "I thought you were waiting in the car."

"It might be best if I stayed." I said looking at the floor. I couldn't look Sam in the eye.

"I kind of wanted you with me while we looked." Dean sounded frustrated.

I flinched. "Dean, Sam, please. It's for the best. I know what I'm doing."

"Then at least put those away." Sam shook his head at the gun in my waistband.

"They're for self defense."

"I'm sorry. But I'm here to make up for it."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" Sam snorted.

"Sam. You know she knows everything that's going to happen–" Dean tried to defend me again.

"And she can't even tell us anything." Sam dropped his hands in exasperation. "Fine. Stay here. But if anything happens to Jess, I will hunt you down."

Dean stepped in between us. "You want to hunt her? You'll have to go through me Sam. She wasn't the one who walked out on family. It was you."

"Please don't fight with each other." I tugged Dean away from Sam.

"Sam? Is everything okay?" Jessica asked from top of the stairs. She was peeking out of their apartment.

"Of course, baby."

He and Jessica met halfway on the stairs and took a long deep kiss. Dean watched on, amused by the display.

I grabbed the collar of his flannel and pulled him down. He made a small sound of surprise but leaned in, his tongue meeting mine this time.

Sam clearing his throat made Dean straighten up with a roll of his eyes. I clung onto the sleeve of his jacket a little while longer.

"Take care Sam. And it was nice to meet you Dean." Jessica waved with a smile. "Come on up, Sharon." She gestured into hers and Sam's apartment.

"Something on my face?" She asked.

"Oh no. It's just that– You're so beautiful."

She laughed. God, even her laughter was heavenly. "Why thank you!" She shuffled around a bit before gesturing towards the bed. "You can have the bed."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly." I dropped my bag on the couch. "You might be more comfortable on the bed than on the couch." considering she was nearly as tall as Dean.

She gave me a small smile before settling back into the bed. "So. Sharon, right?"

"Yeah." How did you have a conversation again? "Um. I'm sorry to just… barge in."

I nodded. She was amazing. "Yeah. Thanks."

Typical signs of a hangover. I'd seen John, Dean, Bobby, and Sam do enough of that to know it by heart. Not to mention the drunks at the bar.

"Morning." I said.

She jumped, whirling around to face me. "Oh," she put a hand over her heart. "Sorry, I–"

"Rough night." I flashed her what I hoped looked like a friendly smile. "Do you have something for it?"

I ran my fingers over my face. My cheeks were dry, my lips were cracking, and there was a pimple forming right on my chin. Screw it.

"Feel free to borrow my sunscreen!" Jessica yelled.

"Thanks!" I yelled back. What a nice girl.

It would be terrible if something happened to her.

I jumped as the voice entered my head again.

Come now, don't be so surprised. You have to be ready for tomorrow, don't you?

Tomorrow. Nov 2, 2005. The day Jessica died.

Make it interesting, won't you?

I took a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a fresh pair of clothes, and wandered into the kitchen where Jessica was pouring out a second cup of coffee.

"Can I have five spoons of sugar?" I asked hesitantly.

She blinked in surprise but nodded. "Of course."

I stirred the spoon in the coffee until most of the sugar was dissolved before sipping at it.

Oh god. He'd mentioned the fight to her. Of course he had. She was his lover, soon to be fiancee, and then wife. Until she burned of course. Until Azazel got to her.

Jessica smiled. "It's alright. I know what it's like to watch your brother trust a complete stranger. Sam told me that you guys knew each other for almost eight years."

"Yeah. Eight long years."

"Oh, no. I completely understand." I grasped her hand. "Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"Want cookies?"

"It's 11:30 PM."

"And?"

"Good point. We have all the ingredients?" I asked.

"Yep." She was flitting about the cupboards, pulling out pots and pans from the top shelf. "The chocolate chips are on the bottom shelf."

I nodded and placed them on the counter. She and I looked at each other before both reaching into the container and munching on the chocolate chips.

"Chocolate forever." I raised the container in a gesture of cheers.

My phone rang all of a sudden. I checked the caller ID. 'Dean Winchester'

"Hey," I said into the phone.

"Everything alright?" he asked. He sounded like he was still getting into the car.

"Yeah." But in another 15 minutes, it wouldn't be. "How long till you get here?"

"Give us like– 30 minutes."

"Could you drive faster?" I asked.

"Uh– yeah sure." The door to the Impala was closed shut, followed by another door slam. "Is Sam okay? Are you two okay?"

"Yeah. We're fine. Sammy's just got his panties in a twist because his interview is tomorrow."

I looked at the clock. "It's almost midnight. He's not gonna get enough sleep. Get him here fast."

His voice grew worried. "Sweetheart. Are you sure you guys are okay?" Baby revved to life and I heard her tires screeching as Dean got onto the road with her.

"We're still fine." My hands were going cold, and clammy. I felt shivers go down my spine. We were so close. So close.

"Put Jessica on the phone. Lover boy wants to talk to her."

"Yeah." I handed Jessica the phone. "Sam wants to talk." Hopefully she didn't notice the shakiness or the coldness of my hands.

The two launched into a conversation. Jessica's face lit up every time Sam spoke on the other end of the line. She looked so happy.

The clock continued ticking.

3 minutes till the fated time.

Why was he here again?

Here to teach you something.

Teach me what?

You'll know when the time comes.

…

Two minutes now, darling. Get ready.

Salt. I needed salt. I grabbed the rocksalt from my duffel bag and started lining the doors and windows.

"Sharon? What are you doing?"

She was still on the phone.

30 seconds.

Okay, salt done. Shotgun. Pistol in my belt.

"Sharon? Is that a gun? What are you–"

"Stay back, Jessica."

3… 2… 1.

Thunder roared outside. The wind rattled against the windows. The whole house shook from its foundations.

Jessica was stumped. "Put the phone on speaker!" I told her.

"Sharon! What the hell is happening?!" Dean yelled from the phone.

"Dean! I need you to drive a little bit faster!" I yelled. "He's here!"

"He? Who's he?!" Sam yelled.

Too much yelling. My head hurt. I cocked the shotgun in my hands and waited for him to strike. The windows shattered, and the salt line was broken by the winds.

Well, shit.

I backed up against Jessica who was completely frozen in place.

"Do you have more salt?" I asked her.

"Y-yeah–"

"Good, make a circle. Stand in it. And don't leave it."

"Do what she says, Jess." Sam said from the phone. I heard her rattling about the counters and sifting a salt ring.

"What the hell?" Jessica finally seemed to have found her voice.

"He's a bad guy. Wants to kill you. Stay in that circle."

I tried to calm my breathing. Sweat was starting to make my palms slippery. I could barely keep my grip on the trigger.

A flash of lightning blinded us.

Jessica shrieked.

"Why hello there." Azazel hummed. He was in the body of a middle aged man. His eyes glowed bright yellow. "It's been a while, Jessica." He smiled.

I raised the gun to his chest level. He was still on the other side of the kitchen and living room combined. I took my aim.

Shoot. With a bang, a bullet buried itself in Azazel's chest, right where his heart was.

"Tsk, tsk." he clicked his tongue. I readied the shotgun again. "I know about you too, Sharon. How does it feel to be in the world you were meant to be in?"

"Sharon?!" "Jess!" the brothers yelled from the phone.

"I suppose I'll kill you both." Azazel cackled.

Oh hell no. I shot him again. He didn't even flinch.

The phone connection started cutting out. Static filled the room, overpowering the howl of the winds outside.

Another shot. Azazel closed his eyes, looking like a parent tired of telling his children to shut up.

"Really now… This is starting to bother me. But no worries. I'll take my time with you. You two can be sisters in the afterlife." he took a step forward. But the next one, he couldn't take.

Bullseye.

"What–" he looked down at the rug he was standing on. He grabbed onto it and pulled it up, revealing the edges of a "Devil's trap?" he sounded angry. But he couldn't leave. "You know your homework, girl. But a Devil's Trap isn't going to be enough."

Jessica screamed as she was flung into the wall.

Shit shit shit!

"Your turn."

Before I knew it, I was thrown through the door. I couldn't help but scream as my back broke the door. I was on the floor, right next to the staircase.

"I'll come back to Sammy's woman in a bit." Azazel smirked. "I'm not done with you."

Like hell he was gonna kill either of us. I started chanting.

"Regna terrae, cantate Deo,

psallite Domino
qui fertis super caelum
caeli ad Orientem
Ecce dabit voci Suae–"

I wasn't even done with the first verse before I was thrown down the stairs.

Another scream ripped through me. But worse than that was Jessica's shrieks of absolute terror.

I took deep breaths. Up the stairs. As fast as possible. I shot Azazel again who grunted as his psychic grip on Jessica dissipated. I grabbed her and dragged her behind me. I forced her down the stairs in front of me. Only to be met with Azazel standing at the doorway.

"You should get your plumbing checked," he laughed.

Fuck. I put myself between Jessica and the demon.

"Regna terrae, cantate Deo,

psallite Domino
qui fertis super cael–"

Jessica and I both screamed as we were slammed onto opposite walls. It hurt. It burned. Something was tearing me apart. And I didn't need to look down to know what was happening to me. Jessica was a perfect mirror of my situation in her beautiful bloody white gown.

Whose legs looked prettier in heels and a mini skirt didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter who wore makeup and wore it better. We had both been reduced to crying messes with our stomachs ripped open and slowly being dragged up the wall.

No. No. No! I didn't want to die like this. I didn't want Jessica to die like this.

Dream. Imagine. Fling him to the side.

The fuck? This is when he decides to start talking?!

You want to live? Yes or no?

Yes. I wanted to live. I wanted Jessica to live.

Then think! Use that monkey brain of yours for something useful.

Okay. Think. Imagine. I could imagine a lot of things. And flinging Azazel outside in my head couldn't be that hard.

"I– I don't want to die, please!" Jessica sobbed.

"OUT! AZAZEL!" I yelled. And out went Azazel through the door.

Good girl.

The thing holding us up against the wall vanished. I could barely feel myself hitting the floor. Everything hurt. And I had no more tears left to cry… hah… that Ariana Grande song…

"This isn't over!" Azazel snarled and the apartment burst into flames.

My vision was blurry. But there was no way I couldn't see the fire eating through the wood, eating through me.

"SHARON!" "JESS!"

Dean. Sam.

"Dean." I whispered.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm right here." His voice was like heaven. I could finally relax. Sobs wracked my body as I weakly reached out for him. Dean, Dean, Dean…

He wrapped his arms around me. They were strong.

"It hurts."

"I know, I'm sorry baby."

I whimpered when he picked me up.

"We're getting out of here sweetheart. Hang on."

"Blood, Dean. I got blood–" I choked on my own blood. I watched it dribble down his jacket.

"It doesn't matter. We're gonna get you to a hospital–"

"Jess…?"

"Sam's got her. We're all here. You did good."

I could finally rest.

When I woke up, I was looking up at a white ceiling. And there was a mask over my mouth. Mask? I reached for it, but a hand pushed mine away. Who, or what, in the world?! I fought against it. What if it was chloroform? Or some other drug?

"Sharon, it's me!"

Dean.

"Keep it on for me, sweetheart. It's oxygen."

Dean. I turned my head towards the source of his voice. My lips quivered and my eyes grew wet.

"Hey, hey, hey." he gently held my face. "You're safe. We're in the hospital. You're safe."

"Jess?" my voice was hoarse and muffled through the mask.

"She's okay." Sam said. "She woke up a few hours ago."

Good. Thank goodness. Everyone else looked good too.

"Her parents just flew in." Sam continued. "They said they wanted to thank you by paying your hospital bills."

What story had they cooked up? Sam smiled at the question in my eyes.

"So a burglar broke in. He thought the building was empty and that it would be an easy job. But then he saw you two so he attacked. Then he set fire to the house hoping the evidence of him coming in would be burned away. Dean and I were looking for our dad but I have a law school interview today so we hurried, and… we got in just in time to see the perpetrator run away. The evidence was successfully burned away, but we have an eyewitness account for the attack, and for the burglar, and you're going to be the fourth one to confirm that story."

Awesome. Leave it up to Sam to cook up the perfect excuse.

"I wanted to roll with an arsonist, not a burglar." Dean chimed.

"That wouldn't explain the wounds on both of them." Sam pointed out. "And, um." Sam looked at me nervously. "I thought I should apologise for being so… so cruel to you. You were just trying to keep Jess safe. And I– I thought I knew better than you. So, for that, I'm sorry." He came over to the other side of the bed and held my hand in his. "I'm sorry Sharon. Seriously. Thank you." I squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"Always listen to your elders, Sammy. Older brother and sister know best." Dean said standing up. Sam gave a little scoff in response. "You two want coffee or something? Oh, I should probably get the nurse in here before that– NURSE!"

God he was loud.

"No yelling in the hospital!" Sam hissed.

Dean merely shrugged as the poor nurse came running in. She probably thought I was dying or something. But other than the pain I was fine. She assessed my breathing, decided I didn't need the oxygen mask anymore and brought the bed into a sitting position. I held back a groan of pain as my body adjusted to the new sitting position. But I was doing pretty good. The nurse shot me up with another dose of painkillers and by the time she was gone, Dean was back with three cups of coffee precariously stacked on top of each other.

"Didn't spill any," he said proudly. "Five giant spoons of sugar for my lady," I accepted the cup of coffee from Dean.

"Thank you," I mouthed to him. I took a sip. The warm coffee soothed my throat.

"So let's talk business." Dean was in hunter mode. I knew it by the shift in his posture and tone. I straightened up a little more. "Something was thrown through the door. It was broken when Sam and I got there. What was it?"

"The demon." I answered.

"Who, or what, flung it straight through? No offense, but uh… none of you ladies are strong enough to toss a demon out the door."

"I did."

Dean whistled. "Since when did you start weight training?"

"I didn't Dean. I kind of… did it with my head."

Sam and Dean both raised an eyebrow.

"Like– I thought about flinging him to the side. And then it just happened–"

"What? So you're some kind of a freak?"

Dean's words stung. 'Freak'. Of course he thought I was one. If he could think of Sam as a 'freak', then of course he could think of me as one. But his words still hurt. I would be lucky if he didn't just abandon me.

"Dean!" Sam scolded. "She saved Jessica. By the way she was worried about her, I can only assume that Jess was meant to– to die today," Sam choked on the words. "And all you have to say is that she's a 'freak'?"

"I'm just saying it how I see it! And– and being a freak isn't bad–"

"It's fine." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I– I get it. If you two don't want anything to do with me–"

"I never said that!"

"You called me a freak and I'm just supposed to roll with it?!"

"Then how else do you explain it!"

"I don't know Dean! I don't know! I have no idea what's going on! There's a voice in my head–"

Silence!

I hissed as the ringing in my head started.

I told you to never mention me!

"Sharon?" Dean's hand was on my back. He sounded worried.

"What's wrong?" Sam pried the coffee from my hands and I felt him patting my hand.

Keep your mouth shut.

And suddenly the ringing was gone.

"What do you mean by voice in your head?"

"Is it the demon?"

I was bombarded with questions by the brothers. None of which I could answer.

"I'm sorry. I don't know." I forced out. It seemed to be the only thing I could say. "I– I can't talk about it."

"Can't?" Dean asked.

"Can't." I confirmed. "Like– I can't say anything."

Dean and Sam settled back down. The beeping of the million monitors was deafening.

"So–" My voice was rough. I cleared my throat. "So, how's it going… with you and Jessica?" I asked Sam.

"I…" He looked down at his cup. "I told her everything. She's… surprisingly still supportive of me."

"She still want a life with you?" I asked gently.

He nodded. "I was gonna ask her to marry me when I got back, but– I don't know if I want to bring her into this life."

"You don't Sammy." Dean said softly. "You don't. She can have a normal life. I know you want a normal life. But if this demon, the demon, is after you, then it's hardly going to be anything but normal. It's going to try to get you through her. Just like it did with Mom."

Sam nodded. "That's what I told her. She said she was willing to wait till this demon guy was dead. I don't know– I like her so much, I–" he held his head in his hands. "I can't do this to her."

"She loves you, Sammy." I ruffled his golden hair. "If she's willing to wait… then let her wait. But if she wants to move on while you're gone hunting the demon, then… I think you should let her. You two need to talk it out."

Sam nodded. "I'll talk to her before we leave. We're not staying here for any longer are we?"

"I'm good to go." I confirmed.

"Then we need to find Dad. We need to tell him what happened."

"Already did." Dean sighed. "Went straight to voicemail. I don't think he's responding any time soon." He dialed John's number. It went to voicemail again.

"But if it's here, then surely Dad must care." Sam shook his head in frustration. "Unless… he's not okay. What if he needs help, Dean?"

"We'll find him." Dean said. "We'll find him. We'll just have to follow his tracks and we'll find him. Then we can kill that son of a bitch together."

They would kill Azazel together, but John would die in that fight. How was I supposed to say that?

You don't.

I jumped.

"Everything okay?" Dean looked up with alarm.

"Yeah– yeah, I'm fine–"

I didn't think you could save Jessica, but… you surprised me there. Keeping the Winchesters on the line was an unexpected but good idea…

"Voice in your head again?" Sam asked.

"We're right here." Dean added. His hand squeezed mine in a gesture of support.

Don't listen to them. Listen to me. You've managed to harness your power once. You'll have to do it again. Set things right. You're the only one who can clean up their mess right now.

Right now? So there would be more people cleaning up their messes later? What?

…

I waited for an answer, but nothing. The voice in my head was gone.

"Sharon Winchester?" an officer knocked on the door.

I looked up at him. "Yeah,"

"Can we talk to you for a moment?"

Dean stood up and blocked the police from my view. "Now look here. It's not exactly a good time. She's still recovering from the encounter. You understand, don't you?" He was almost threatening.

"Look, we were supposed to be here a long time ago. We've already been very lenient by coming in now, instead of earlier as soon as she woke up."

Sam stood up too, and fixed the police officers with a glare. "I believe that she has the right to refuse talking to law enforcement."

I hit the call light on the side of the bed. The nurse could probably talk this out. I loved hospitals. The nurses hated law enforcement and their relentless questioning of patients as much as the patients did. Well most of them anyway.

"And I believe that we have the right to talk to the victims to ensure that there are no others like them." the officer retorted. He attempted to force his way through, but Dean held him back with just one hand.

"You don't want to make this messy pal." Dean's voice had dropped an octave. Sam walked up next to him, backing his brother up.

The nurse came waltzing in with a smile plastered to her face. "Gentlemen. If you're going to agitate my patient anymore then you can leave."

"We're with the county–"

"I don't care. Our patients' well being comes first. Thank you for your service." She pretty much slammed the doors on the officers' face.

Dean marvelled at the nurse who gave me a triumphant grin. "Everything okay sweetie?"

"Yeah. Thanks. I didn't really want to talk to them just yet."

"No problem honey." she sang. She fiddled with my IV bag and checked the part where the needle was in my arm. "Everything else looks good. Let me know if you need anything else. You two be good to her now." She smiled at the brothers and left the room, pulling it with just enough force behind her so that it closed silently.

"We need to get out of here." Sam said quietly.

"Tell me about it." I mumbled. "I'm gonna try and disconnect myself without making the things beep."

"Knock on the room next door before you leave. I'm gonna go talk to Jessica for a bit. Clear things up." Sam pressed his lips into a thin smile before walking out.

"I brought you a change of clothes." Dean started pulling out my oversized bell bottom jeans and a loose red top. Wrapped in it were my favorite and comfiest underwear.

"You know how to make a girl relaxed."

"I know more ways to make you relax." His hand slid under the blanket and onto my thighs.

I grabbed his hand, stopping it before it could travel any further. "You called me a freak Dean."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Sure."

"I'm serious, sweetheart." He grabbed my chin and tilted my face up. His green eyes held me there. I couldn't look away. He was so beautiful. "I didn't mean it as an insult."

"Freak is a pretty bad choice of words in that case."

"I'm sorry."

My breath hitched. Dean Winchester didn't throw the words 'I'm sorry' around lightly. If he said it to my face, while holding my gaze. Then he definitely meant it. But I had to confirm. "Do you still love me?"

"Even with your weird flinging powers?" He pressed his lips to mine. "Yeah. I love you."