Midnight Of the Century - Section Five

[glasslogic]

Chapter Twenty


"Do you ever find yourself talking with the dead? Since Willie's death,
I catch myself every day, involuntarily talking with him as if he were with me."
                                                -Abraham Lincoln (upon the death of his son)

The further down the rough tunnel they walked, the brighter the light got, until Sam switched his headlamp off to conserve battery power. The walls were also growing damp, water seeping from them causing the already difficult footing to be even more dangerous. Trickling sounds from somewhere up ahead grew louder the deeper in they moved.

On the plus side, the roof was growing taller and the walls farther apart. They finally broke into a wide chamber with a roof so high that not even the open-faced lantern burning in the corner could illuminate it. Deep crevices in the margins of the chamber also kept their secrets hidden from the light.

A cool breeze curled through the area from an unknowable source, causing the flame to dance. But it wasn't biting enough to be coming straight from the outside, flowing rather from some distant place even deeper into the darkness.

Jordan was standing by a drop-off, the lamp at her feet.

"Jesus, Sam," Jessica breathed, her eyes finally making sense of the walls. Thousands and thousands of carvings covered every surface of the chamber, stretching all the way up as far as she could see. The shapes didn't mean anything to her, but their deliberation was obvious. Water curled over and ran down them, almost like they were weeping.

"These have got to be ancient; why hasn't the water eroded them away?" Sam's voice was hushed. The chamber demanded reverence, almost overwhelming in its aura.

"They're prayers." Jordan's voice was clear, and echoed like a bell from the uneven outcroppings. She traced one slender fingers over a figure carved near her shoulder.

"People of many nations came here to speak to gods. For thousands of years it was a place of peace, and worship, and sanctuary. And sacrifice. Then the Christians came, and heard their own God, and made it their place alone. But they didn't understand its rules, and they brought violence, and hatred, and bigotry with them. They spilled blood, but none of their own. They lingered for a few decades, coming every so often; but the voices were muffled, and they didn't remember how to listen. It lost its meaning for them, and so was forgotten by most."

All the hair was standing up on the back of Jessica's neck by the time Jordan was done speaking. She remembered the feeling of being watched, of whispers barely unheard. She desperately wanted to leave. Before she could speak up, or Sam ask the question that was burning on his face, Jordan continued.

"I came to listen. I told him not to follow me, but he doesn't listen very well," she concluded solemnly, glancing down into the darkness of the drop-off by her feet.

"He doesn't--" was all Sam got out before the significance of her look hit him, and he threw himself down on the slippery ground beside the drop-off, fumbling his headlamp back on to see into the dark.

Maybe twenty feet down a steep incline, Dean was lying face down in a shallow pool of water.

~~~~~~~

The water was probably only an inch or two deep, and Dean was dressed in good synthetic seasonal gear, but he was unmoving. Sam was deeply grateful that he could make out the edge of his brother's profile, which didn't help much, but at least Dean probably hadn't drowned.

Wearing synthetic clothes and insulated somewhat from the biting cold of winter, if Jordan had come to find them as soon as he had fallen --Dean could still be alive. Sam refused to entertain any other possibility.

"Dean!" No reaction from the body below.

Sam was throwing one leg over to slide down when Jessica grabbed his shoulder with an iron grip. "Sam, no! How will you get back up?"

"I'll climb!"

"How?!" She shook him hard, terrified he would ignore her and go down anyways.

Sam looked around frantically, but she was right -- there were no handgrips or holds that would permit a climber to escape. With horror her noted that scattered around the margins of the pool were pieces of what looked like human skeletons. He cast a hard look at Jordan, who was watching them evenly.

"Sacrifice?"

"It's the only language gods speak."

"They're not my gods, and they can't have my brother!"

"Sam," Jessica was clawing at something on her wrist. "I can go down and see ...see if he's, um, okay." She thrust the dark and circular somethings into his hand. Sam recognized the weird bracelets she had purchased at the hiking store as part of her dragging information out of them. She had gotten one for each of them, but Sam had snorted at the idea of wearing one and not paid much attention to what she had been saying about them. He had a dim recollection of her wearing both of them in the motel earlier. "You can pull us up with that. It's forty or so feet of parachute cord."

Sam stared at the woven bracelets she had given him.

"They unravel! Like this." She grabbed one back and started tugging on ends tucked into the clasp.

They both looked up sharply at the sound of a body sliding down into the pool.

"What the--"

Jordan looked up at them from the bottom. "I weigh less, and it's going to take a lot of pulling to get him out of here. Better to have you both at the top."

"Uh, thanks. How is he?"

"Alive."

The soft murmur of her voice was indistinct where she leaned down over his prone form, but in a few minutes Dean was moving. Weakly, and obviously not in great shape, but moving -- he was alive. Everything else could be coped with. Jordan got him sitting, then looked back up expectantly.

"He's a little banged up, and I think his ankle is sprained, but the hypothermia is going to be the problem."

Sam didn't reply, Jessica was still pulling her bracelet weave out, and accumulating an impressive pile of dark loose cord from it, Sam was tugging at his too, but was distracted by something else.

He was looking down at Jordan where she stood in the pool. At Dean hunched over at her feet, barely able to sit up. Face shadowed in the harsh light of the headlamp. At the flickering light of the lantern; the water running ceaselessly down the walls; the heavy earthen scent of the cavern.

"Oh, my God," he said, a fervent prayer. "Hurry."

Jess looked up. "What?"

"Hurry!" He pulled the cord in his hand out frantically.

"Sam! What the hell?!"

"This is it. This is what I saw!" He shoved the completely unraveled ends into her hands.

"Wait --when we entered the cave? That vision?" Sam's panic was contagious. Jessica buckled the ends of the former bracelets to form a huge loop, twisted a quick series of knots into its length to create hand-holds for pulling, and tossed the rest into the pit.

"No, before! In Palo Alto!"

Sam had only had one vision before they had left home. Only one episode he referred to as a vision. Dean's death. The start of their trip. She remembered how he had described it, and eyed the cavern with sudden horror. "Oh, my God," she echoed Sam's prayer from moments earlier.

"Jordan, HURRY!" Jess yelled.

Jordan was already looping the cord under Dean's arms. He looked like he was trying to help, but his movements were awkward and clumsy.

"This ground is going to get us all killed," Sam said tightly, scuffing one boot on the slick surface to check for traction.

"No choice," Jess replied.

"He's ready!" Jordan called from below.

"Jordan, grab hold too!"

"You won't be able to pull us both up. The sooner you pull him up, the sooner you can get me."

Sam grit his teeth, but she was probably right and there was no time to argue.

He glanced at Jess to make sure she was ready, she caught his look and blew him a saucy kiss, even though her features were pale and pinched with fear.

"Let's do this."

~~~~~~~

The cord was thin and cut into their hands. They used the loops created by the knots Jess had tied to slowly drag Dean up. He was dead weight on the end of the line, and twice Jess's feet had skidded out from under her while they pulled. Sam was too afraid of going over the edge himself to get close until they had Dean on level ground, so he couldn't actually get his hands on his brother until they had him entirely on the cavern floor and the line was slack.

"Dean. Dean?!" He ran searching hands over his brother, but didn't find anything broken. Jess was kneeling beside them, untangling Dean from the parachute cord. Sam was trying to help when a freezing hand grabbed his; Deans eyes were fever bright in the headlamps glare, and it was impossible to tell if there was recognition in his eyes or not. He was trying to speak, but Sam couldn't hear him.

Dean's other hand grabbed at Sam's coat, Sam leaned in to hear him better.

"Jordan--" Dean rasped.

And then Sam heard the first rock fall.



Chapter Twenty-One

Anyone who has spent a few nights in a tent during a storm can tell you:
The world doesn't care all that much if you live or die.
                                    -Anthony Doerr

The first rock sounded like an explosion. The ones that followed like firecrackers, but then another huge boom, and another ...the cavern roof was collapsing.

"Jordan!" Jessica yelled, throwing the cord back down into the well for her.

Jordan reached for it, but a huge bolder dislodged from the roof and fell between her and the slope, forcing her back further into the darkness.

She splashed as she fell.

More rocks were crashing down. Sam heard Jessica cry out in pain, and pulled Dean to his feet. Dean wasn't doing much to support his own weight, but at least he wasn't completely limp anymore.

"Jordan!" Sam cried out desperately.

"Go!"

Before Sam could come up with anything, she spoke again, her voice hard to hear over the thundering echoes starting to reverberate into the chamber from all around.

"Go. It's okay."

"Sam!" Jessica was at the tunnel entrance, falling rock momentarily blocked his view of her and he felt his heart stop with the fear she'd been buried.

But he heard her coughing in the dust a split second later and glanced back down to Jordan, who was on her feet again, and actually gave him a half smile.

"Go. This was meant to happen. Tell your brother to learn how to listen! This is who we are!"

A rock struck the lantern, and its light flickered crazily as Sam dragged Dean towards the exit as fast as he could, one hand up to try and deflect small chunks away from their heads, the other arm tight around Dean's waist. His last back-glance showed him a brief glimpse of Jordan, face calm and eyes watching him, before tons of rock caved in and he felt Jessica take part of Dean's weight and pull them both away.

~~~~~~~

They staggered out into the freezing night air, choking on dust and eyes burning with grit. The roof of the cave had been collapsing in a seemingly progressive pattern. They had barely been able to stay ahead of the worst of it. Dean had started being able to carry a little more of his own weight, or they probably wouldn't have managed at all. Seconds after they cleared the cliff face, an extensive rumbling groan told them the passage back was sealed.

But now they were left in an almost equally bad predicament. Sam's headlamp had taken a glancing blow in the last few feet and was trying hard to die. Dean was soaked to the skin, and both Jess and Sam were liberally dampened as well from checking Dean for injuries and trying to untangle the cord.

The moon was still providing some illumination, but it was close to disappearing over the ridgeline, and the majority of their gear was hours away in the night. The snow was still sifting down through the trees. Even if they were in any shape to go after their gear, in a very short time it would be too dark to read a compass, and they would likely be without a light source of any kind by then.

Sam and Jess met each other's eyes, grief and shock between them. Jess had blood on her face again; Sam wasn't sure if it was from new injuries or re-opened old ones, and there was no time to check. Dean was barely conscious, and not even shivering, he was so cold. All they had was the contents of the belt-packs, and a limited amount of time left to rig a shelter.

There was still about twenty feet of clear space in the cavern entrance, and the cracks and booms of falling rock had stopped after the main tunnel came down, but neither of them were willing to risk it, and Dean wasn't in any shape to get a vote.

Sam unbuckled his pack and handed it to Jess, and then got Dean settled against the rock where the snow was thin, while she pulled out three Mylar safety blankets and two rolls of kite string. She tossed a granola bar at Sam and nodded her head in Dean's direction.

"Try and get some of that in him. Eat the rest yourself."

Sam peeled the package open while he watched her work. "Where did you get three blankets?"

"I packed two in mine, I ripped one once on a survival hike with my uncle and then needed it to hold water. Not a great trip. Call me paranoid."

In about ten minutes she had rigged up a shelter as best she could by kicking over snow covered leaves until she had a relatively ice clear patch against the rock wall, then spreading one of the Mylar sheets over the remaining dry leaves. She used the kite string and rocks to stretch a very low slanted roofed shelter over that, using the cliff face as one of the walls and anchoring it against the ground, then snow to seal all the edges

She then spread the last of the blankets out inside and stood back up and looked to where Sam was wrapped around his brother, trying to coax Dean into eating something.

"That's the best I can do, Sam. Ready for the fun part?"

Together they managed to strip a weakly protesting Dean to his skin. They piled the wet synthetics over the top of the Mylar sheet and forced Dean into lying beneath it, then stripped their own clothes off, layered them on top, and climbed in on either side.

Sam reached up and laid loose stone chips on the open side until it was as sealed as they could reasonably make it.

Cuddling up to Dean was like cuddling with a block of ice. Jess shuddered violently, but clung to him anyways. Sam was curled against Dean's back, whispering something Jess couldn't quite make out into his ear.

"Next time I want to go on a road trip, why don't you take me up on my Vegas offer?" she hissed through lips trembling with cold. "I hear it's warm there."

Sam gave her a shaky smile that broadened into a full blown grin a little while thereafter when Dean started to shiver too, a vast improvement over his deadly stillness since they settled into the shelter. Then the headlamp died, and they were truly in darkness.

With their arms wrapped around Dean in the middle, it was easy for Sam to squeeze Jess's shoulder, distracting her from her misery for a moment to look up even though she had no hope of seeing his face.

"Thank you."

"I love you, too."

She tightened her grip on Dean a bit, trying to settle into a comfortable position in the distant hope of sleeping until the sun rose. Her confusion and grief over what had happened --and almost happened-- in the cave was going to have to wait until their own situation was less precarious.






Chapter Twenty-Two

"But the place which you have selected for your camp,though
never so rough and grim, begins at once to have its
attractions, and becomes a very centre of civilization
to you: "Home is home, be it never so homely."
                                    -Henry David Thoreau


Camping: nature's way of promoting the motel industry.               
                      -Dave Barry

Dawn was freezing, but at least they could no longer hear the slithering of snow sliding off the Mylar overhead. Jess woke up abruptly at a blast of cold air over her face. Dean, still pressed against her, buried his face harder into her shoulder and mumbled something indistinct. She looked up to find Sam sliding out of the shelter and trying to get back into his clothes.

Sometime during the hours between curling up together in a frozen heap, and the time the sun rose, their body heat had combined enough to make the nest if not actually comfortable, at least warm enough that she didn't feel in danger of freezing to death. Dean showed no real signs of moving or awareness, but his skin wasn't ghastly white and was warm under her hands.

"Where are you going?!" She whispered to Sam.

"To get some of our gear."

"Alone?"

"Dean's clothes are still soaked, I can't do anything about his boots, but at the least I can get him some dry clothes. Mine will be a little big, but at least they won't be wet. Get everyone dry socks. Bring back the stove so we can get some hot drinks and food into us. And some Tylenol; if he doesn't already have a fever, I bet he will by the time I get back. Also enough stuff to rig a travois if we have to. Jordan said his ankle was sprained --he seemed to be trying to walk on it last night, but he was in shock and hypothermic. I wasn't able to examine it when I took his boots off. I don't want to drag him out into the cold right now to take a look, but he might not be able to walk..."

"It took us hours to get out here, Sam."

"In the dark, and the snow. But it's right after dawn now, and I feel fine. A little sore, but nothing that should slow me down. With a compass and some luck I should be able to get back here well before noon, and then we will have most of the day to hike back to the motel. Even if we can't make it that far, we should easily make our old campsite."

"Can walk," seemed to be the muffled statement from somewhere in Jessica's hair.

Sam gave Jess a relieved look at having some evidence Dean was able to track the conversation enough to participate, and ran one hand over his brother's hair. "Go back to sleep, Dean. I'll be here when it's time to get up."

Another sleepy sort of sound and Jessica squirmed a bit trying to get some circulation back into the arm he was lying on.

"Are you going to be okay, Jess?"

"You mean because of the 'lying naked and helpless in the forest in winter with no gear and your sick brother' part? Or the 'lying naked and curled up to your equally naked and hot brother all alone in the middle of the forest while you take a trip' part?" she asked innocently.

Sam gave her a look, but seemed reassured by the normalcy of the conversation --for them-- and started packing the open edge of the shelter back down.

"Sam, wait--" Jess called. He paused and ducked back down to look her. Jess swallowed. "What about the cave-in, did you--"

"It's hopeless," he cut her off, shaking his head in resignation. "This entrance is completely impassible, and ...I saw the roof of the pool collapse, Jess. She was standing right there. I don't see how… There isn't any chance."

She nodded, and laid her head back down while he sealed them in, and set out into the snow.

~~~~~~~

Jessica didn't even open her eyes the next time a draft of cold air woke her up; she just growled and threw a leg over Dean before he could move anymore.

"Um."

"Yeah. 'Um,' is about the right speed. If you're awake enough to try and escape, you're awake enough to understand 'get back under the blanket and stay there.' You probably have a fever, and who knows what other injuries. You're stark naked; where exactly do you think you're going?"

"I was just going to get dressed--"

"…In your soaking wet clothes," Jess interjected.

"--and take a look around. Give you some, um, privacy."

"You value my modesty over your life?"

"Look lady, I don't even know who you are!"

"I'm Jessica," she yawned. "Sam's fiancée."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"...Where's Sam?"

"He went back to our campsite to get you some dry clothes, and some other useful things."

"Is it far?"

"Far enough."

Silence for a minute, then, "How did you guys get here? I mean, I guess --why are you guys here? Not that I'm not grateful and everything."

"On our feet, and I think I'll let Sam tell you about that."

There was a noisy rustle of Mylar as he shifted again.

"How long has he been gone?"

"This might have escaped your attention, but I don't have a watch."

Dean was sitting with the sheet to his waist, and the rest of his body exposed to the frigid air. Goose bumps were rising on his skin, and Jess could see him starting to shiver again. He was clearly uncomfortable with her touching him, so she slid her leg back off of his, hoping it would encourage him not to do anything stupid.

"Look. Sam will be back soon, and he won't be really happy if you are frozen solid again. You don't have to curl up with me if you're prudish like that, but at least lie back down and cover up, please?"

He gave her a bit of a wary look, mingled with shock at being called any kind of prude, but lacking any other option he slid back down and pulled the blanket tight under his chin. Jess was starting to drift off when he spoke again.

"So ...I don't remember much of what happened. The last thing I really remember was slipping and getting stuck in that well."

She opened her eyes again and met his, watching her from only a foot or so away. His expression was guarded, and she understood what he was asking.

"The cave collapsed," she said simply. "There was nothing we could do."

"Was it because of me," he asked in a low voice, not meeting her eyes, "did she die because of me?"

"She died because after thousands of years of human visitation, the roof of the cave collapsed. It was a freak accident, Dean. It wasn't anyone's fault."

What she could see of his expression was unconvinced.

She reached out to gently brush fingers over his cheekbone until he looked back at her.

"What was she to you?"

"Are you asking if we were involved?"

"Yes."

"No. She was just another case. A missing girl, some weird circumstances. Something to look into."

"How did you find her?"

"She knocked on my motel room door one night, said she knew I was looking for her and she wanted me to stop."

Jessica blinked. "Did she say where she had been?"

"Around." His voice said the topic was closed.

"So I guess you didn't listen to her."

"No."

Jessica took a more critical look at him and noticed the glazed look to his eyes. "As informative as this conversation is -- and don't think we won't be continuing it later --I think your fever has arrived."

"It's fine."

Jess rolled her eyes and scooted closer to him. He scooted back, and when she had him pinned against the rock face she leaned in and kissed him. He resisted her for a moment, and then relaxed when she traced the tip of her tongue over his lips. The kiss was deep and thorough; he looked stunned from more than the fever when she finally pulled back.

"What was that?!"

"Gratitude."

"Not that I'm complaining, but for what?"

"Not dying before. I don't think that's something Sam would have recovered from, not really, not if you died this way. Even if you have been a jackass to him the last few years." She scooted back, giving him room to get away from the cold rock.

"I think you overestimate his attachment to me."

"And I think the fever isn't helping your intellect!" she snapped, annoyed.

The silence between them was a little sullen after that, but at least he wasn't trying to escape again. She felt a little bad about snapping, but not bad enough not to needle.

"You know," Jess eyed him speculatively, "it's a pity you were so out of it last night. It might have been a great opportunity for you guys to work out some of your issues."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You, Sam, naked. Stranded in the middle of a forest in winter. No choice but to cuddle up real close just to stay alive. Just think of all the possibilities!" She grinned at him.

"That's sick! He's my little brother. You've got problems, lady."

Jess rolled her eyes. "I have problems. I wasn't the one professing my undying love and playing tonsil hockey with my little brother in a Tennessee dive."

Dean scowled at her. But before he could find a suitable retort, the crunch of heavy boots on fresh snow announced Sam's return.

~~~~~~~

"Gross. What flavor is this supposed to be again?"

"It's 'hot' flavor; drink it and shut up," Jess growled.

Sam had brought with him the food supplies, camp stove, and dry clothes. Once everyone was dressed and the remains of their shelter was stuffed into the backpack, they had settled down to try to get some hot food down before starting the miserable trip back to the motel. Just because the socks were dry, it didn't mean everyone's boots were, and Jessica was anticipating painful fall-out from the trip.

She was also highly irritated at both Sam and Dean, who were, in her opinion, acting like idiots. Despite whatever other issues were swimming around in their relationship with each other, after a year of desperate searching on Sam's part, and almost certain death the night before on Dean's, Jess thought that they could both have managed more than the stiff greetings and avoidance of eye contact so far exhibited.

The only things Dean had to say were complaints, and Sam was growing quieter and quieter by the moment. Jess just wanted everyone to be silent, and stay that way until she had gotten a long hot shower and at least ten hours of sleep. She was pretty sure that was going to be a tall order though. Beneath Dean's almost childish behavior--at least some of which was probably legitimately attributable to shock, fever, sleeplessness, and grief-- she was detecting a certain air of desperation. There was not a doubt in her mind that given five minutes alone and the veneer of opportunity, he would run again, and they had looked too hard for too long to let that happen.

Not without beating some honest answers out of him first, at least.

She wasn't entirely sure he was happy to have been rescued, and if he disappeared in this frame of mind, she didn't believe he would ever turn up again.



Chapter Twenty-Three


"A man's past is not simply a dead history... it is a still
quivering part of himself, bringing shudders and
bitter flavours and the tinglings of a merited shame."
                                           -George Eliot

The hike out was every bit as grueling and strenuous as Jessica had feared.

None of them were exactly springing in their stride, but Dean was clearly struggling for every step after the first couple of hours, and equally as clearly not going to ask for a break. After persistent badgering he had admitted his ankle was sore, but refused to commit to a stronger position. He was going to have to walk on it anyways.

Sam was handling Dean's attitude with sullenness of his own, and leading the way. He certainly wasn't keeping his brother's poor health in mind while plowing ahead.

Which left it to Jessica to play the 'girl' card and make them both stop and take a rest periodically. She really wanted to hit them both with tree limbs. But she was afraid Dean would collapse and that would force her to help drag his body the rest of the way --and as off balance as he was acting, Sam might just burst into tears. Or hit her back-- it was that kind of unpredictable mood.

Since she felt like dealing with neither scenario, Jess settled for grinding her teeth and thinking of all the ways she would make them pay later. Pay, and pay, and pay, and--

"I think we're there." Sam's voice was rough and exhausted. It couldn't be more than an hour or so before sundown.

She raised her head and looked off into the trees --sure enough, up ahead the line thinned out, and the patchy cream-colored cinderblock back of the motel was just visible.

Dean didn't even look up.

They trudged out of the trees, and it was surreal. One moment they were in the middle of a forest, half-dead from the elements, the night before they witnessed a death, and a cave-in, and nearly died --and within ten steps they were standing on cracked asphalt in the rear parking lot of a second-rate motel, only feet from the sleek dark presence of the Impala. Hot water and soft beds just the turn of a doorknob away.

Theoretically.

"Okay," Jessica strode firmly past them both towards the front of the building and their room, "you guys can work the order out however you want, but I'm taking the first shower."

She expected some response, and turned around when only silence greeted her statement. Dean was leaning against the Impala looking everywhere but at Sam, and Sam was standing about ten feet away watching him ominously.

"Sam? Everything alright?"

"Yeah. I'm good, Jess. Go ahead and shower, Dean and I need to talk for a minute."

She remembered something. "Dean, can I have the key?"

He gave her a tired smile and fished it out of his borrowed pants, holding it out to her. The smile didn't even come close to his eyes. "It was nice meeting you Jessica."

"That sounds a lot like a goodbye, Dean," Jess said with a frown, taking the key from his fingers and hesitating. She knew he had the keys to the Impala stuffed in another pocket. It hadn't occurred to her that she should have stolen them when she helped strip off his clothes until just that moment.

"It's all right, Jess," Sam's voice was firm. "I'll take care of it. Why don't you go warm up?"

It wasn't really a suggestion, and she was bright enough to know that there were just some things that didn't need third-party interference.

Besides, she hadn't been able to feel her toes for the last few hours, and it was probably important that she go count to make sure they were all still there.

~~~~~~~

As soon as Jess rounded the corner and was out of sight, Dean tried to head Sam off.

"Look Sammy, I really appreciate the rescue and all, but I have things to do and places to be. And, uh, Jess --she seems like a real nice girl, I'm sure you guys are eager to get back home to California. Just let me grab my bag from the room, and I'll be out of your hair."

Sam just nodded calmly. "Sure, Dean. I'll let you grab your bag, and take-off for who-knows-where --"

Dean was nodding, a relieved look on his face at Sam's words.

"--and maybe we can meet up on a hunt someday. You know, once Jessica's a little more familiar with the ropes and all. Worked on her aim. Don't really want her out there covering my back if she can't hit the target nine times out of ten and all."

"A hunt?" Dean froze. "What the hell are you talking about, Sam?"

"Hunting," Sam replied levelly. "You know, the family business. It was good enough for Dad, and it's good enough for you; I don't see why it can't be good enough for me. And Jess --she loves the traveling around and everything. She's already torched her first ghost. Gets along real well with Bobby and Pastor Jim. I bet in a few years she'll be amazing in the field. Takes to it like a natural."

"That's fucking insane, Sam! You haven't been on a hunt in years, and you never were a real Hunter. Go back home and get a job. Marry the girl, have fat babies and live a long life. You don't belong out here."

"Funny thing, Dean. I didn't think I did either, until I had to come find you. I haven't been back to California in almost a year. Jess and I, we've been on the road hunting your sorry ass. Pretty much since that enlightening conversation we had back last December, remember that? With Bobby's help and all. And, oh yeah, he's real happy with you too. I wouldn't plan on his greeting being especially warm next time you run into him, unless it's actually toasty. But the trip's not been bad --kind of like, what was it you said? Going back home?"

"What do you mean you've been after me for a year?!"

"Remember how I told you were going to die this year?"

"Yeah," Dean said warily.

Sam was smiling tightly. So tight his face was hurting, but he couldn't seem to stop. The entire thing was so goddamned ridiculous. "Well when I got home, after you blew me off, I had a vision, this one of your actual death. In Tennessee you said you couldn't avoid it if you didn't have details, but when I had the fucking details you were no where to be found. So don't you talk to me about being safe and going home, you jackass! All you had to do was leave one lousy number with Bobby --or even check in with him, once, Dean-- and this entire expedition would have been unnecessary."

His voice roughened, "But that was too much, wasn't it? Bobby ratted you out to me once, and you sure as hell weren't gonna let that happen again. I don't even know why the hell you claim to care if I want to take up hunting or not."

"It's because I love you, Sammy," Dean replied, his voice equally low.

"Don't even start with that shit again, Dean. I'm not in the mood to be fucked with right now. And stop calling me Sammy, I haven't been that kid in at least ten years."

Dean gave a harsh laugh at that. "You aren't hearing me, Sam. I love you--"

Sam rolled his eyes and started to tell Dean that he didn't understand how Dean freaking showed it, when the rest of his brother's sentence shocked him into silence.

"--like you love Jessica." The honestly in his eyes was painful.

The only thing running through Sam's head was --oh my God, Jess was right-- and a strange feeling of almost …relief, but that terrified him; he ignored it.

Dean's smile was the same weird sort of satisfied it had been all those month ago in Cookeville.

"So that's it, then?" Dean taunted. "No snappy comebacks, no reaction of disgust? C'mon, Sam, you must have a few of those big college words that are right for this occasion!"

After a few more minute of Sam just looking at him, Dean shrugged and turned towards the car, keys jingling in his hand. "No, then? You should have stayed at school, Sam. I told you to leave me alone." He unlocked the door. "You know what? Turns out I don't need that bag after all."

"How long?"

Dean paused without turning back around. "How long what?"

"How long have you …felt this way?"

Dean shrugged. "Does it matter? A while. Maybe since Austin."

"I was sixteen in Austin, Dean!"

Dean spun. "And I didn't lay a hand on you, Sam! You didn't even know. It's not my fucking fault I have these feelings for you! You think I wanted this? That this in any way makes my life better?"

"That's not--" Sam paused and took a few breaths. This would go better without the yelling, and it wasn't anyone else's business anyways. "--that's not my problem. Why didn't… No, I know why. I just wish…" He ran one hand through his sweaty, damp hair. The emotional and physical exhaustion of the last day or so was making him feel almost dizzy. "I just wish you had told me."

"Yeah, there's a conversation that would have been fun."

"You told Dad!"

"I told Dad because you were seventeen and in my face all day long, and then the bastard kept putting us up in crap motels with single beds because it was cheaper, while he went off for freaking weeks at a time leaving us alone because I was supposed to take care of any school problems you had and keep you safe. I tried to sleep on the floor, and you pitched a freaking fit! For no goddamned reason I might add. And when I hustled the cash and changed rooms so we got our own beds, he pitched a fit because we didn't stay where he put us. It fucking sucked, Sam. My self-control is awesome, but that was… that was too much. I needed some space."

"I didn't want you to sleep on the floor because the bed was plenty big enough for both of us, and the carpet might have given you some kind of disease."

Dean glared.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. That hadn't been why he wanted Dean in the bed with him, but he hadn't known it was some kind of torture for his older brother too. Sam had always been the kind of kid who poked bruises just to see if they were still sore.

The problem between them was like nothing he had imagined, and he felt, deep in the place where all his visions started, that they either resolved some issues now, or they weren't going to have another chance.

"I didn't want you to sleep on the floor …because I liked having you there. You wanting to sleep on the floor --it felt like you just wanted to get away from me."

"I did just want to get away from you," Dean growled.

"Not like that, like …like you were rejecting me."

"What?" Dean asked, baffled.

Sam gave a half-hearted shrug. "I just wish you had told me what you were feeling, Dean. Maybe things would have been different."

"Different how, Sam? What are you saying?"

"I don't know. I really --I just don't know, Dean. You've got my head all confused, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore."

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean turned back, twisting the key in the lock and pulling the door open. It stuck for a moment, the ice and snow holding the seal shut. "This is my problem. I'm gonna …I'm gonna just go. I'll let Bobby know where I am, all right? Make sure he has a number. Maybe I can call you in a few weeks after you get back home, maybe we can talk a little then."

"No, Dean," was the flat reply. "I really don't think this is just your problem anymore. And I'm not going back to California. And don't you even think you're going anywhere alone right now." Sam crossed the distance in a heartbeat, and slammed his hand against the door, closing it with a bang, his brother's shocked face only inches away.

"Come inside, get warm. Let me take a better look at your injuries and then we can all see about some actual food and sleep. Don't even fucking start, Dean," he snapped when Dean's eyes hardened and he looked like he was about to start yelling. "You try to leave without my permission, and I swear Jess and I will be right behind you, no matter how long it takes. You want to do stupid things? Hunt monsters and risk your life? We'll be right on your heels. So keep that firmly in mind when you're planning your next move. You and I aren't done with this conversation yet."

"Your permission?! There isn't anything to discuss!"

Sam said nothing, just watched him grimly, holding the Impala door shut, until Dean swore and stomped off towards the room.

Then Sam stopped by the room just long enough to grab his car keys from Jess, and headed into town to let them know about the cave-in.

~~~~~~~

The police station had been a bust. Initially concerned, the more Sam spoke and tried to show them on a map where the accident had taken place, the more incredulous the officers had gotten. Finally, the story having been relayed to at least ten different people, the group consensus had been that people who did drugs in the woods deserved whatever awful hallucinations they had, and that Sam should go and sleep off the dregs somewhere out of the way.

Sam was as confused as angry when he stomped out. He had no doubts about the impossibility of Jordan's survival, so he wasn't worried about her suffering somewhere. But the total disbelief he had gotten back was baffling. The cave wasn't that hard to find, surely. But most of the people he had spoken with had claimed to be life-long experienced regional hikers, all of them knew the rumors of the cave, and none of them had even found it, or knew anyone who had. They all agreed it was a local legend, and Sam was out of his mind. Finally, he just left.

Back at the motel, he knocked at the door to the room and stepped inside a moment later when Jess opened it. She was wearing his boxers again, and one of his clean flannels over her own t-shirt. Her damp hair straggled over her shoulders and she had a towel in one hand where she had probably been working on drying the wet strands. The heater was rattling, cranked up high, but its effectiveness was debatable. After the last night, Sam didn't feel like complaining.

The water in the bathroom was running, and Sam was grateful there would be a few minutes before he had to deal with Dean again. He snagged Jess by the waist and pulled her in for a hug. Her wet hair smelled like cheap shampoo, but her arms were strong wrapped around his back.

He told her about the police station. She was angry, but not as outraged as he had expected.

"Maybe it's for the best. Maybe …maybe no one should be out there. Look what happened to Jordan, and now it's all sealed up anyways."

Sam heard the hitch in her speech when she mentioned Jordan's name and frowned. "You know there wasn't anything we could have done for her, right Jess? From the minute she slid down into the pool there wasn't anything that was going to save her."

"I know that, and we didn't ask her to do it …but we were only able to save Dean because she helped us, and then we just left her there. Trapped. It could have been either of us down there instead."

"If we had stayed any longer, we would all have died. She knew that, Jess. She told us to go."

He felt her nod against his chest.

"I know, Sam. I just …we watched a woman die last night, no one is ever going to recover her body, she won't be buried with her family, people won't even know what happened to her. Just us. It's …it's a heavy sort of thing, Sam, for me at least. I need some time to work through it."

Sam hugged her tight, dropped a kiss on her brow, then released her with a grimace, "I'm getting you dirty again."

She hung on a moment longer, before stepping back and sitting on the edge of the bed to towel her hair off some more. "I was more concerned about the water soaking into my clothes."

"What do you mean, 'your clothes?'"

"What's yours is mine, isn't that somewhere in the traditional wedding vows?" Sam was relieved at the normal tone of the banter. He had slid back into the rhythm of the hunter's life so easily, and Jess fit so well at his side, that sometimes he forgot how new it all was to her still. She didn't have the experience or the perspective to easily accept the death of another person and just move on. He found himself fiercely hoping she never acquired that skill.

"I have no idea --and does that mean what's yours is mine too?"

"Probably not," she said with mock sorrow, "you know how the court system is. On the other hand, if you have the sudden urge to wear some lacy panties, by all means don't let me stop you."

His eyebrows went up. "Is that a suggestion?"

"Not for my part, but never let it be said I stood in the way of your personal expression. I'm sure I would learn to endure." He grin was cheeky and her eyes bright, shadows of the past days events were still visible, but she was making the effort to bear up.

Sam smiled back and started to offer a sarcastic comment on the likelihood of the enterprise, when the creak of shifting feet on the cheap plastic tub liner in the bathroom caught their attention for a moment and distracted him.

"How was he?" Sam asked her quietly.

Jess shrugged. "Quiet. What did you guys talk about in the parking lot?"

"You were right about how he feels about me. That was the big secret. I feel so stupid!"

"For what? Not noticing? Not believing him back when he told you the first time?"

"No. Yes! All of it."

"I don't really think you can blame yourself for this, Sam. It's not exactly the sort of thing siblings look for in each other. And your brother strikes me as kind of the macho type --it must have freaked him out completely. Well, I imagine it would freak most people out really." She looked considering. "As far as that first encounter goes --you said yourself he was acting like he just wanted to get rid of you. He had most of your life to figure out the best ways to do that; no great surprise it worked. I wouldn't beat yourself up over this."

"He's a total mess, Jess. You know he was going to jump right back in his car and take off? He's way underweight; I don't think all those bruises were just from the fall. You saw those scars on him when we stripped him. I mean, it's a dangerous lifestyle, but I don't even know where he got most of them, which means they're in the last few years. And some of them …he must have almost died, Jess. And he probably patched himself up using dental floss, a fishhook and gin."

She nodded. "You guys reach any decisions?"

"I told him if he left without my permission you and I would be right on his heels, and if he was planning to go throwing himself back into danger he had damn well better make sure he took that into account, since he claims to love me so much and all."

Jess winced. "I bet that went over well."

"I don't give a damn how it went over, it's the truth." Sam hesitated. "It is the truth, right?"

"Damn straight."

Sam looked relieved. Jessica had been so enthusiastic about everything, he hadn't really paused to consider what she might think about his rash promise. She had only signed on to find Dean with the idea that they could warn him off and let him go, not play indefinite babysitter. But now they had him and the situation was not at all what Sam had expected. Dean was clearly not in good shape, or trustworthy to lay low for awhile and heal up before doing the next stupid thing. Knowing that all of this had been touched off by a matter not of hatred, but something so stupid …He just couldn't let Dean go without making some sort of peace between them.

"Besides," Jess added after a thoughtful moment, "he might like you in the lacy panties too."

Sam groaned and went to do some pacing outside.

~~~~~~~

When Dean stepped out of the bathroom a little while later, Jess was nowhere to be seen.

Sam didn't say anything about how Dean's own clothes hardly fit him any better than Sam's had, but he could tell from the self-conscious way Dean picked at them that he was aware of it. Not that either one of them cared in the least for notions of fashion, but it was one more sign that Dean hadn't been taking care of himself. He told Dean about what had happened with the police; Dean nodded to acknowledge it, but had no comment.

"Where's Jessica?" Dean asked.

"She decided the heater in the car would work better for drying her hair, and went into town to find a drive-through to bring back dinner."

"I hope she's getting a lot. I feel like I haven't eaten in a week."

"Have you?" Sam asked pointedly.

Dean shot him a look. "I'm not an idiot, Sam. I just got a little wrapped up in the case. You know, too much running around, not enough cheeseburgers. It's fine."

"You've got a lot of new scars, Dean."

"What did you expect, Sam? I've been a solitary hunter for pretty much the last six years. It leaves its marks."

"Dad was a solitary hunter a hell of a lot longer than that, and he didn't have half the damage I saw on you."

"Maybe Dad was just a lot better at it," Dean snapped. "Doesn't mean the job doesn't have to be done."

Sam let that pass without comment.

Dean paced agitatedly for a few minutes, as Sam slouched in a chair by the door, flipping idly through his father's journal which Jess had brought in for him from the trunk before leaving. His posture was casual, but his placement was deliberate, and Dean knew it too. He wasn't getting out of the room without a fight.

"What do you want from me, Sam?"

"I want you to be alive, Dean. I want to see some signs that you are taking care of yourself, and aren't going to wind up butchered in an alley somewhere because you took a careless risk and went down under something's claws. I know hunting is dangerous! But there's stupidly dangerous, and then there's dangerously stupid. Guess which category you seem to be falling under?"

Dean bristled, but settled for a glare and resumed pacing.

Sam let the silence settle for a few minutes before changing topics.

"So --Jordan."

"What about her?" Dean asked warily.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?"

"What's there to tell? Girl goes missing under some weird circumstances, I do some investigating. Girl shows up at my motel a few months later and asks me to stop trailing her, I don't. Girl wanders off into a cave in the middle of the freaking forest, I follow and slide into a hole. Girl gets help for me, the cave collapses, girl gets killed. That's pretty much all there is."

Sam looked at him levelly. "That's great, Dean. How about we start a little more back at the beginning. You ever find out what caused the glass to break like that?"

Dean didn't look at all surprised that Sam knew about the details of Jordan's disappearance; Sam had always been good at getting the facts. "Nope."

"You never asked her?"

"Jordan wasn't big on straight answers. All she told me was there are a lot of forces in the world, and sometimes, like with any force, things break under their pressure."

"That's …interesting."

"That's a lot politer than what I said when she told me that."

"So she wasn't abducted then? She left on her own?"

"I don't think so." Dean sank onto the edge of the bed furthest from Sam, wincing as he pulled his feet up to examine them. "She didn't seem very happy about that. Maybe she wasn't ripped from her bed by masked gunmen and thrown into an unmarked van, but I'm pretty sure she felt she had to leave."

"She didn't take anything with her."

Dean shrugged. "She took everything she needed."

"So you started looking for her in June after she vanished?"

"I didn't hear about the story until July."

"Still, that's …five or six months almost? That's a long time for you to focus on a single hunt, and for a girl who might have walked away on her own?" Sam was still casually messing with the journal in his hands, and as he turned it a folded paper slid out and fluttered to the floor.

"I had to find her," Dean muttered. He rose and walked over to pick up the paper before Sam could reach down for it. He sat back on the bed next to Sam's chair and spread it open on his knee. It was the drawing Sam had found in the journal before, his proof that Dean had found the missing girl.

"Jordan's drawing? You needed to find her because of the drawing?"

"She didn't draw this. But as soon as I saw her room, I knew I needed to find her."

"She didn't …I saw her room, Dean. That fits right in with all the other angels hanging there. It has the same …signature. A kind of ...almost mystical aura to it. If Jordan Black didn't draw that angel, who did?"

Dean was still stroking the paper gently with a finger tip, tracing over the lines. "Me."

Section Six


Masterpost

Comments

[angeblond.livejournal.com]

So Jess want a threesome for life, can't blame her really, just want her place ^^.

Oh Dean have the psychic gifts of the family too, poor him.