Loyalty & Love

by Thestarvedghost

Summary:

For Jess, there’s before: when she was a good daughter who followed orders, who is loyal to her father no matter what, who is safe as a demon could be. Then there’s after: when she all but slammed that in the trash, and put an open season on herself.

Demons are humans, maybe more than anything else that once was. Jess still likes to take care of things that are hers, she still likes to make people she loves happy.

She loves Sam.

She chose him.

No matter what.

Notes:

hiiii Messica/Sam is a disease and boy am I terminal. anyway. the series will be a rewrite of canon but wont cover every episode, just ones i fuck with heavily as a concept lol. enjoy.

Chapter 1

Jess doesn’t go to Indiana. 

That starts a mental countdown for her, a shift in the world she’s living. There’s before, when she was a good daughter who followed orders, who is loyal to her father no matter what, who is safe as a demon could be. Then there’s after, when she all but slammed all that in the trash, and put an open season on herself. 

She counts down the days until another demon finds her, and makes her pay.

She gets two weeks. 

It’s Tom who goes after her first, one of her father’s fake children, a demon who followed Azazel for almost as long as Jess could remember, one who thought that made him special, like Jess and Sam are. 

(She knows there are others her father has spread his blood to, knows there’s more siblings of hers out there. Those are nothing to her, though. They don’t have the power that Sam has, the innate abilities Sam has, the connection to Hell that Sam has. She would never claim them as family.)

Tom has a hand around her throat, threatening to truly kill her this time, and Jess stabs him in the guts, spilling his blood on her. That doesn’t stop a demon though. Tom chokes her, forcing her to either leave this body, or pass out. 

Jess picks a third option, and uses her knife to cut Tom, slicing wrist to elbow, forcing his hand to drop her, muscles and nerves not connecting anymore. 

There’s ways beyond special bullets and hidden knives, to kill demons. Most demons aren’t aware of this, and out of those that are aware, few believe in it. 

Jess is a daughter of the last Prince of Hell, the betrothed to the future king. What she knows could fill a graveyard. 

Certain words, certain objects, certain movements. 

Death is an easy thing. 

 

Tom wasn’t the last demon, but he was one who got closest. Three demons in three weeks, a whole month since she denied her father’s orders, and she killed them all. 

She’s going back to Sam, on her own terms now. 

Jess gets the other demons off his tail, and hers, sending them on goose chases somewhere around Georgia. When she finally, finally, after six months, gets to have Sam to see her again, gets to touch him, she’s waiting for him in his motel room, having picked the lock, in Hicksville, Minnesota. She doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, nothing supernatural happening in a 20 mile radius– at least nothing that Sam and Dean would notice– but she knows he’s here, so she waits.

She digs through his stuff while she waits for him. Sam had to get all new clothes after the fire; these are things she’s never seen him wear, and when she brings a shirt to her face, it smells different as well. Sam used to smell like a cologne he bought at the department store near their apartment, and of her perfume. 

Once they lived together, starting halfway through their junior year, Jess would make it a habit of putting her perfume on and then calling Sam over to her, kissing and biting at his neck, cheek, ear, spreading her scent on him. He knew what she was doing, of course he did. He would laugh, thinking she was being…silly, she guesses. 

Now, his clothes smell of motel soap, the stench of that car of Dean’s, dirt. 

There’s no smell of her. Jess’ hand clenches, angrily tossing the shirt away. 

She finds other things, her brand of cigarettes, which is curious, as well as some nice necklaces, one in particular catching her eye. It’s on a long silver chain, ending in a flat pendant engraved with some sort of five petal flower. 

Smiling, Jess puts it on over her neck, rubbing her thumb along the cool metal. 

Jess sits down on Sam’s bed— she can tell it’s Sam’s by the side slept on, by the way it’s not made at all, and by the tiny sketchbook on the side table— and closes her eyes. 

Her story has to be solid, no holes to poke. It helps that most of it is the truth, and any lies she tells are barely lies at all. The hard part won’t be selling it; it'll be getting Sam to still want her after he hears. 

Her boy is sensitive. Needy. He likes to think he’s aware, in charge, top dog, but a lot of the time he really isn’t, not yet, and Jess’ story proves it. He’ll push back because of that, maybe at her. 

Probably at her. 

The motel door clicks as it unlocks, and Jess stands up, eyes open, hungrily looking at the door. 

Sam, she mentally cheers, swaying with the empty hole inside her chest. Sam. 

Sam walks through the front door of the motel, a pretty little bruise on the left side of his face, and Jess has never been more confident in her decision to pick him. 

“Sam,” She cries out, truly overjoyed, rushing towards him. 

“Jess—?!” Sam is shocked to see her, no doubt, possibly not even believing she’s really here, but he still takes her in his arms, still kisses her when she presses her lips to his. 

She wraps her arms around his neck, one hand on his back and the other in his hair, holding him as close as she could. His arms loop around her waist, all but lifting her off the ground. 

“How—Jess, I saw you die, how—?“

“I’m sorry,” Jess lies. “I had to,” she says truthfully. “He made me.”

“Sammy, back up!” Dean shouts behind them, slamming the door. “Are you sure that’s Jessica?”

“It’s me,” Jess promises, leaning back to face Sam, cupping his face in her hands. “Look. It’s me.”

“It’s you.” Sam breathes, relief lining his face. He knows her. Of course he does. He moves his fingers, shaking, along her forehead, her cheekbones, the bottom of her lip. “How?”

Jess briefly looks over at Dean, checking for any weapons. None she can see, but really, that doesn’t mean much. 

“I love you, Sam,” Jess swears. “I didn’t want to leave you.” She kisses Sam again. She’s not afraid of him leaving her, as she won’t let him, nor of him hurting her, because beyond an exorcism, he doesn’t know how. She’ll stay with Sam, she knows this is true because she’ll make it true. What she doesn’t want, what she has to be careful about, is how she gets there. She likes it being easy with Sam, the only push against them they have is when they do it to each other. She doesn’t want to lose that. 

“My father made me.” Jess tells him carefully. Half truth, vague implications. “I tried to stay with you, but he said I couldn’t.” 

“Your father?” Dean questions testily, no doubt reaching for a gun. Jess doesn't look at him, keeping her eyes on Sam.  

“He seduced my mother, pretended to be human. She didn’t find out until after she became pregnant, and by then, it was too late. He stole me from her when I was born, and raised me to follow his orders.” All true, although over thousands and thousands of years ago, even before the Christ child. She doesn’t mention the lessons in torture and human anatomy, of witchcraft, and taking her to ancient—even back them— crypts, teaching her things no man today could understand. Doesn't tell Sam about her dying at age 30 for her father, about the centuries in Hell between then and now. “And I did, every one of them, until he told me to stay away from you. I couldn’t.”

Sam looks at her in horror, although his hands still hold her, still touch her face. “Who’s your father? What are you?”

“Please, baby,” Jess says, purposefully putting a womble in her voice, making her eyes big and wet. She’ll cry on command if she has to. “His name is Azazel,” Jess tells Sam. “And he’s the demon who killed your mom.” 

Sam, like Jess thought he would six months ago, puts his hand around her throat at that. He pushes her against the wall, and Jess lets him. She ignores Dean’s shout, ignores a table being knocked over, ignores everything that’s not Sam’s eyes boring into her, his hand clutching her throat. 

“You knew?” Sam yells. “This entire time, you knew who I was, giving information to the demon!”

“I did,” Jess admits. “He told me to watch over you, to keep you safe.”

“Everything was a lie?” Sam demands, a crack in his voice, tears falling. “Everything?”

“Nothing,” Jess denies, putting her left hand on Sam’s wrist, the engagement ring shining in the motel lights. “I fell in love with you, and I picked you. Every demon wants me dead now, for betraying my father, and I did it all for you.” 

Sam’s hand loosens around her throat, eyes getting caught on her ring. “What are you?”

“The child of a demon and a human is called a cambion,”  Jess says, wondering if Sam, subconsciously, realizes anything about himself with that.

“You never said anything.” 

“Baby, if we want to talk about things we never told each other, we’ll be here all night.” 

“Yeah, but you knew.” Sam hisses at her, dropping his hand. “I didn’t. I used to lie awake at night, stressed about keeping this from you, and—“

“And I always told you that you can tell me anything, didn't I, Sam?” Jess argues. Sam closes his mouth, thinning in a straight line. He can’t deny that.

Jess can’t help but kiss him again. She really did miss him, more than she even realized. Sam doesn’t kiss back, but he doesn’t pull away either, stock still in Jess' arms. “Ask me anything you want,” Jess kisses Sam’s bruised cheek. “And I’ll tell you the truth.” A lie. ”I’m on your side, Sam.” A truth.

“So what,” Dean interjects, and Jess really hates him. “You’re like the Omen meets Legally Blonde? What were you majoring in, business?"

“Philosophy,” Jess and Sam answer in unison. 

Sam pulls away from Jess, and Jess smiles at him. His eyes are still wet, and his face is flushed from anger, but he’s looking at her the way he always looks at her. That’s right, baby, Jess thinks, I’m back. 

 

They sit her down on Sam’s bed, and basically interrogate her.  What does the demon want, when did she switch sides, how much did she tell the demon, what can she do, what are Sam’s dreams, how did she fake her death?

She tells the truth when she can— he wants Sam to grow up the ranks as the soldier of Hell; she only told him that Sam was safe; she had a spell pouch to protect her body from the flames— lies when she can’t— She’s strong, durable, and can move things with her mind, that’s it; Sam is psychic for reasons she doesn’t fully understand; the bleeding wound on her was an illusion— and something that she doesn’t even know if is a lie or not— she always was on Sam’s side, it just took her a while to stand up. 

It takes hours, Dean doing most of the questioning after a point, Sam sitting down next to her silently, just watching. He takes her hand in his near the end, playing with the engagement ring on her finger. 

“Are we good?” Jess asks Dean snappily at the end of his questions, turning to face Sam, putting her hand over his. She asks more softly, “Don’t you trust me now?”

Sam's face collapses a little. “Jess…”

“Even if we did,” Dean crosses his arms, leaning against the motel room dresser. “What, we just  have you join our little scooby gang? Who do you think you’re more like: Daphne or Velma?”

God, he’s stupid. 

“I’m staying with Sam.”  This is her goal. She’ll stay with Sam, and help him her way. She knows him better than anyone, she can be the one to guide him to his destiny, to help him be as powerful as he should be. Not their father, not Dean, not any demon Azazel may try to send to replace her. Sam is hers. “That’s all I know.” 

“Sam, do you want her to stay with us? Because, honestly, I think—“

“Of course I want her to stay with me.” Sam snaps, glaring at Dean. “Are you kidding?” 

Dean frowns at Sam, and Jess, in all honesty, can understand. He wants to protect Sam, and he thinks he has to protect Sam from the possibly evil half demon girlfriend. It’s almost funny, what Dean thinks the scenario is.  “Sam…”

“No, Dean,” Sam says harshly. “I mean, even beyond that she’s my girlfriend, she knows about this stuff anyway, and she knows more about the demon– about Azazel, than even Dad. She can help.”

“Really?” Dean raises a disbelieving brow at Sam, before leveling it at Jess. “We’re gonna kill your father. You wanna help with that?”

Jess grits her teeth, glaring at Dean. 

She doesn’t want her father dead. No matter what she is now, and what she has done against him, she loves him. She looks down at the ring on her finger, at Sam’s hand on hers.

My brother, my lover, she thinks. Or father, my teacher?

Sam looks at her, the closest he’s ever been to knowing her. She wishes she could crawl inside him, possess him, just for a moment, just a brief moment of wrapping their souls together. 

“If you find a way to kill him, more the merrier to you,” Jess finally says. “But odds are, he’ll kill you first.”

“Then what good are you?”

“Dean!” Sam snaps, standing up. “Stop it.”

“She’s part demon, Sam, how can you trust her?” Dean asks, ironically enough. “They lie!”

“I know her,” Sam says, unwavering in his loyalty to her, almost stronger now that he knows some of the truth. “I trust her, Dean, which means if you trust me at all, you’ll let her stay.”

“Sam–”

“If you don’t let Jess stay I’m leaving.”

Jess thinks it’s funny, how the fight is almost immediately out of Dean at that. 

 

Dean goes to bed soon, and Sam and Jess follow, Jess changing into one of the few outfits she has, and the only pajamas, Sam whispering to her that next motel, they'll get their own room.

They lay in Sam’s bed facing each other for a long while, not saying anything, both of them simply enjoying being with the other again. Sam’s eyes scan her face in the dark, passing cars lighting up his face, some of them even giving his eyes a light yellow color, just for a second. 

Jess kisses him, sliding her lips against his softly, hand sliding in his hair. She feels something wet against her face, and pulls back a bit, seeing tears falling down Sam’s face. 

“Baby?”

“I thought you were dead, Jess,” Sam sniffles, burying his face in her neck. He kisses her there, before saying, “I thought it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” Jess promises, pulling Sam’s head up so she could kiss him again. 

Her soft, sensitive, little boy. She loves how much he missed her.

They make out, running their hands over each other, slipping under clothes before pulling out, fingers in hair, tugging closer and closer. Jess slides her leg between Sam’s, grinding against his thigh. He grunts softly, barely audible, and Jess presses her thigh more against him, grinding harder, nibbling on his lips. 

“Dean’s a light sleeper, he’ll wake up.” Sam argues softly, biting back a moan in her mouth. 

“So what?” She continues to rub herself on his thigh, pressing her thigh against his cock, panting with the feel of it hardening against her. “He’ll put a pillow over his head.” She strokes up and down Sam’s side, considering taking his cock out, wondering how much cajoling she would have to do to get Sam to even let her slip his cock between her thighs, sliding it against her lips and clit. 

“Jesus, Jess,” Sam laughs incredulously, a soft puff of hair against her face. “No, c’mon, let’s—“  Sam takes a deep calming breath, even as his hips grind against her thigh. “Bathroom.” 

Sam pulls away, taking her hand off his hip and using it to lead her out of bed and towards the bathroom. Jess bites her lip when she sees the outline of his cock through his pants, feeling horny and dangerous.

Once the door is shut behind them, they all but leap at each other; Jess wraps her arms around Sam’s neck, kissing him, as Sam lifts her up by her ass, Jess wrapping her legs around him. He pushes Jess against the wall farthest from the door, holding her up there, and she grinds against him, sucking on his tongue, moaning. Jess breaks away to pull off her top, leaving her in her bra. “Fuck me.”

“Jess,” Sam groans, pressing his face to her chest, sucking her through the bra. “We still— the walls are thin.”

“Then fuck me quietly, Sammy.” 

Sam nods his head, kissing her again. Making her put most of her weight on the wall instead of holding her up, Sam goes to her shorts, trying to shove them down enough. She does the same with his pants, using her heels to pull them down over his ass. Unlike her, Sam is wearing underwear, so she repeats the motion with his boxers as well. 

“You didn’t fuck anyone when you thought I was dead, did you?” Jess whispers, holding tight to Sam as he lines himself up. 

“God, Jess, I barely looked at people.” Sam presses himself inside her, inch by inch.  

“Good,” Jess praises through a moan. She would have killed anyone he fucked, would have tortured them for hours. 

Sam bottoms out in her, and then, putting a hand on the wall near her head, pulls out a bit to thrust back in. 

Jess does try to be quite, at least a little, but the way Sam fucks her, held agasint the wall and staring at her as if he wants to eat her, six months without it, has got her a little foggy in the head. 

She gasps and moans, little high pitch noises, trying to pull Sam impossibly closer. 

Sam tries to hush her, but when that doesn’t work, he puts three fingers in her mouth, forcing her to suck on them. 

Jess does, smirking around them as Sam fucks her, scrapping her teeth against at his knuckles, drawing a few drops of his faintly sulfuric blood. 

With her mouth busy, Sam goes back to her neck, kissing and sucking on her, silencing himself as well. 

Sam fucks her against the wall, his cock rubbing against her clit with every thrust with the angle, and with how close they are, and Jess closes her eyes, taking in the pleasure. 

She pulls at Sam’s hair when she cums, careful not to bite too hard on his fingers, and Sam picks up his pace, fucking up into her so hard that she has to use a hand on the wall to hold still. 

He kisses down her throat, until he reaches the swell of her tit, biting down, hard. Jess, coming down from her orgasm, moans weakly when Sam bites down harder, drawing blood. He’s licking and sucking the blood away when he cums, filling Jess up. 

She hasn’t been taking her birth control since she ‘died’, but doesn’t bother mentioning that, not wanting to ruin the afterglow. 

Sam pulls his fingers out her mouth before he pulls his cock out of her pussy, kissing her, getting the taste of her own blood in her mouth. 

“I love you,” Sam tells her seriously, carefully putting her back on the ground. 

“Even knowing what I am?” Jess asking, trying to ask more genuine than coy. “Who my father is?” Who our father is?

“Of course,” Sam says firmly. “You’re still….” Sam frowns a little. “Nothing about you changed. Some things just make a bit more sense now.” 

Jess smiles, cupping Sam’s cheek with her left hand. Her sweet, silly, boy. “I love you.”

Sam puts his hand over hers, fingertips touching the engagement ring. “Does you wearing this mean you would have said yes?”

“I don’t know,” Jess smirks. “Why don’t you ask me?” She’s really asking just to see if he’ll get down on his knees, cock out, on this dirty motel floor. 

“Jess,” Sam smiles at her, shaking his head softly. He knows what she’s doing, because despite the lies, and the deception, and the fake identity, Sam does truly know her. Still, he likes to make her happy.

Sam gets down on one knee against the dirty motel floor, cock out, holding Jess’ left hand in his. She has her shorts around her knees, and his cum in her cunt, and the image is so funny Jess can’t help but laugh a little. Sam's smile grows at the sound, and he says simply, not even really asking, “Marry me.”

She knows they probably will never get married; Too much around them, too many obstacles to go against. Marriage, the way Sam knows it, is completely different than how Jess knew of it when she was human, anyhow. Marriage isn’t really a thing for demons either. 

Still. She really likes the idea. Like the ownership of each other. She likes the thought of being her brother’s bride. 

“How do you feel ‘bout a church wedding?” Jess asks, laughing in delight by the idea of spitting in God’s eye like that. 

🔥💛🩸💛🔥

 

Having Jess back in Sam’s life is… Sam doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. She’s there with him, and he doesn’t have to lie to her—never had to lie to her. Sam can cock a gun, and turn to his left, and see Jess, smiling at him, demonic lore on her lips. 

His life is nothing like how he dreamed of when he was a kid, but he doesn’t care. His dad is still missing, Azazel is still out there, but it doesn’t matter. His fiancé is part demon, the daughter of the demon who killed his mom, but— and this does make him feel a little bad, sometimes— he doesn’t think he would love her as much if she wasn’t. The danger, the twisted humor, the confidence, even the anger, it’s all parts of Jess that Sam has found seductive, comforting. If it’s because of her heritage, then so be it. 

She’s helpful with hunts, which is surprisingly hot to Sam, who had thought of this life as nothing more than a shitty job. She’s scary good with a knife, and spells, and can name half a dozen sigils like that. 

She’s not perfect, but Sam can’t imagine being with anyone else. 

“C’mon, baby,” Jess moans. “Give it to me.”

Jess rides him, the night light outside casting a blue tint in their motel room. She rises and falls on his cock, hands rested on his chest as she uses Sam for her pleasure. 

“Faster,” Sam begs, trying to thrust into her, but Jess uses the strength she admits she has now, holding him down. Sam pulls against the rope tying him to the bed frame, knowing it’s useless. “Jess, please, faster.”

“Make me,” Jess teases, still just slowly grinding herself on him. Her head is thrown back, a blissed out expression on her face. It's slower than they usually do it, and Sam thinks that it’s supposed to be part of it, like the restraints, and her holding him down. Jess is in charge here, and it doesn’t matter what Sam does otherwise. 

Sam looks at her as she uses him, the soft night glow on her naked body, her firm tits, where he enters her, her messy hair falling in her face. 

The need to touch her is almost overwhelming.

“Give it to me,” Jess says again, swiveling her hips, tight around his cock, and he groans. 

“You’re already taking it,” Sam tries to explain to her. If she wants it, she can take it. Sam doesn't have a say, can't do anything but let her. The thought is dizzying. 

Jess looks down at Sam, a condescending smile on her face. “I know,” she squeezes Sam’s chest, nails scraping down his pecs.  “But I want you to give it to me.”

“Untie me, then.”

Jess laughs at him. “You’re so stupid.” 

Sam pulls at the rope again, feeling the burn against his wrists. “How can I give it to you if I can’t move?”

Jess laughs again, leaning down to lick him, jaw to ear, her breasts pressed against him. “That’s part of the fun, baby, you figuring it out.” She kisses the shell of his ear, nibbling the lobe. Sam turns his head to kiss her, and Jess allows that, still moving on his cock. “Lackluster,” Jess demeans him as she pulls back up. “I mean,” She rubs her thumb along Sam’s lips, smearing spit like one would lipstick. “You can move a cupboard, no problem, but not some rope?” Jess tsks, and with the slow constant movement on his cock, Sam has to force himself to hear her words, head foggy with need. 

He realizes embarrassingly slowly what she’s telling him. “I don’t know how,” he tells her, lips brushing her thumb, and she pulls it away. 

Jess hums dismissively. “Then I guess you just stay there, Sammy.” 

She rocks herself on him, trailing her hand from his mouth, down his body, until she reaches the base of his cock. She skips over that, not touching him, and Sam groans in a complaint, trying to pull against the rope, trying, hopelessly, to use powers he doesn’t understand to free himself. 

Jess rubs the thumb that she played with Sam’s lips against her clit, still slowly rocking on him, and Sam feels his mouth water.

 “Jess,” he begs. She ignores him, which he did expect.

Jess starts making little ‘unh unh’ noises as rubs her clit, hips moving a bit faster on him, but still not enough for Sam. 

“Jess,” Sam says frantically. If she cums, he really believes that she would just leave the bed, take a shower, maybe go to bed, all without untying Sam or getting him off. “Jess.” 

She takes her other hand off him, cupping her own breast, fingers rubbing harshly around her nipple. Jess moans, eyes squeezing shut, and Sam pushes himself towards her one more time, almost crazed with his need to touch her, taste her, fuck her.

This time, the ropes don’t hold him, however. Snapped like dental floss, inhumanly so, the shreds of it falling on the bed behind them as Sam jumps her. One hand goes towards her breast, grabbing at her savagely, the other her face, cupping her jaw so that they could kiss.

Sam puts too much force in his reach for her though, as he pushes them both off the bed in his rush, Jess making a squeal of surprise. Her head hits the motel carpet with such a loud ‘thunk’ sound, that Sam has a brief moment of worry that those in the rooms next to them– Dean being one of them– could hear. His cock is thrust into her cunt with the gravity of the push, perhaps painfully, but Jess doesn’t care, laughing through moans, and neither does Sam.

“There we go,” Jess cheers against his lips, both hands going to his hair, tangling in it. “Give it to me, baby.”

Sam pulls out of Jess, who furrows her brows at him, to grab her by the hips, flipping her around on her hands and knees. 

He puts one hand in her hair, pushing her head down until her cheek is shoved against the carpet, back curved and ass in the air.  

“Is this what you wanted?” Sam grunts as he thrusts into Jess’ cunt from behind, watching as she clutches uselessly at the ground as Sam fucks her. The hand not holding her down rubs up and down her back, feeling her warm skin. 

“Yeah,” Jess gasps out, face moving against the carpet with every thrust, no doubt leaving a burn. “Good job.”

For however much Jess was quick with degradation, she was also always one for praise, always making sure Sam knew both when he was doing something she liked, as well as knowing when he did something she thought was impressive. 

Sam fucks her harshly, Jess moaning loudly with it. She tries to get up, but Sam holds her down, feeling something in his blood burn as he does. He can tell she’s genuinely trying, using her demonic bloodline strength, but Sam can hold her down. 

“Sam!” Jess moans as she cums, clenching around Sam’s cock. 

Sam stops holding her down, instead pulling her up so her back is against his chest. She breathes heavily with her orgasm, head falling back against his shoulder as he fucks up in her, grabbing her breasts and kissing her neck. 

“Yeah,” she pants. “C’mon.” 

When Sam cums, he pulls her face towards him, kissing her messily, spit and drool falling down their chins. 

They rest their heads together once he finishes, breathing into each other. 

“Your nose is bleeding,” Jess says after a bit, leaning in to quickly lick under his nose, assumingly licking the blood away. “Did you hit your head?” 

“No,” Sam says, rearranging them so he can pull out of her, Jess sitting on his thigh instead, Sam leaning his back against the bed. 

“Hm,” Jess hums contemplatively, wrapping an arm around Sam’s neck so she can play with his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “Might have pushed it a bit too far by holding me down that long.”

“Were you really fighting me?” Sam asks doubtfully, now that his head is clear. He asks not because he fears he went too far— he’s more afraid of the fact that he doesn’t think Jess has a ‘too far’ limit, than him pushing past it— but simply because he’s seen how strong Jess is. She has kicked down doors into splinters, pushed heavy wooden dressers like they were nothing. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jess nods, smiling. “I might let you tie me up next time—I think it’s a real turn on, now that you can actually force me.” 

Sam snorts, shaking his head. Sex has always been extreme with them, but it has gotten more…taboo, maybe, the past two months. “C’mon,” he says, patting her thigh. “Let’s take a shower. We have to hit the road early.”

Jess rolls her eyes, still smiling, and presses her lips to his cheek. Sam closes his eyes briefly, at peace with her.

 

“If you can’t find any hunts,” Jess starts curiously the next morning. “Why look? I mean, why don’t you just go to the beach, or something?”

The three of them are in a little cafe diner in Nebraska, Sam and Dean across from each other, looking through sites online, and various newspapers, trying to find anything weird, while Jess sits next to Sam, eating cheesy fries. 

“Hate to say it, but your girlfriend has a good idea.” Dean tosses his newspaper on the table. 

Sam skims another news title about a freak accident, moving to the next one when he sees it has a reasonable explanation. 

“I usually do,” Jess shoots back, and Sam laughs, glancing away from his laptop to look at her smile. 

Jess and Dean don’t really get along that much, so him agreeing with her is basically a huge sign of them, at the very least, getting used to each other. 

“Why don’t we keep going West,” Dean says, ignoring Jess. “You two can show me some Californian beaches, or whatever you had, huh?”

Animal attack kills local man, Sam reads, pausing to look up at his brother. “I don't like the beach.”

“What, really?” Dean asks, surprised. “You used to love going swimming. It was so hard getting you outta motel pools when you were a kid.”

“Yeah, well–”

“I can make you like the beach.” Jess interrupts him, and Sam feels himself blush. She didn’t say it coyly, or like an innuendo, or anything, but Sam knows that look in her eye, that curve to her smile. Jess places a hand on his knee, innocent enough, but Sam still feels his face get warmer. 

“Ew,” Dean says flatly. “Keep it in the bedroom, you two.”

Jess laughs, carefree, and despite his embarrassment, Sam leans in to kiss her forehead, overwhelmed with his love for her. She can be such an asshole. 

“Maybe we can go to the beach another time,” Sam says to both of them. “In the meantime, how about we work?”

 “Sure thing, buzzkill,” Dean jokes. “You got anything?”

“Uhh, man in Colorado, local man named Daniel Elkins, was found mauled in his home…”

 

Chapter 2

Jess sits on the hood of the Impala, parked outside a post office, smoking a cigarette while she waits for Sam. 

She would never tell Sam this, not wanting to deal with the tantrum he would throw, but he and his brother are kinda piss poor hunters. If she ever meets John Winchester, she’s going to laugh in his face; over 22 years hunting her father, training Sam and Dean, and this is what they are?

Jess blows smoke into the night air. At least Sam is smart.

Speak of the devil, Jess thinks with a smile, seeing Sam walk out with his brother, Dean clutching a letter in his hands.

“How we doing, Hardy boys?” Jess teases, easily accepting Sam stealing the cigarette from her mouth.

“We found a letter,” Sam tells her, taking a single puff out of the cigarette before putting it back in her mouth. His taking up smoking since she’s been dead has been a fun bonus for Jess. “It’s addressed to J.W.”

“Yeah?” Jess crushes her cigarette against the hood of the car, ignoring Dean’s glare, and gets in the back as they get in the front. 

She’s not that big a fan of having to sit in the back while they roadtrip, but it does have an added benefit of her being able to stick her head between the seats, like she does right now, and bother Dean, as well as play with Sam’s hair.

“J.W... Do you think it’s John Winchester?" Sam asks Dean hesitantly. 

Jess knows Sam is half convinced John is dead, not having seen or heard from him in four months. Unfortunately, Jess knows he’s alive. Although she hasn’t spoken to their father in just as long, she knows she would have heard if Johnny was finally dead. Azazel would have celebrated. 

“Open it and find out,” Jess suggests right before she feels a presence unfelt by the boys. His soul is soured, turning in on itself, but the original form looks close to Dean’s. John Winchester. He must be following them. Jess scowls.  

Dean frowns. “I don’t know…”

John walks up to Dean’s side of the car, and knocks on the window, startling Sam and Dean, the latter raising a fist automatically, before lowering it when he sees who it is.

“Dad?” Dean breathes, equal parts stunned and scared. 

“Hey, boys,” John says with an easy smile, getting in the back of the car with Jess. She wrinkles her nose at the smell of him. There’s a reason she smokes menthols. 

Jess isn’t one for morals. She doesn’t care if she hurts someone, kills someone. Doesn’t care about ruining lives, actively enjoying it sometimes. She’s killed people, tortured people, got inside them in ways that broke them down. She knows right where to touch to get people crying out, in pain, in pleasure, trying to stop both. Some of this was even when she was human. 

All of this to say, she doesn’t have a problem with John Winchester for anything he may have done to Sam and Dean, Dean especially. She hates the man, but not because of that. She hates him simply because Sam wishes he could, and he’s a nuisance to her father. 

“Who’re you?” John asks Jess with a frown, eyeing her critically. She could cut his throat before the boys even blinked. 

“Dad, this is Jess, my fiancée,” Sam introduces, watching John with wide eyes. 

“I thought she died,” John said harshly, looking at Jess with a new light. 

Jess smiles widely at him. “The rumor mill is so untrustworthy.”

“And you told her about the life? Sam.” John shakes his head, disappointed and anger dripping from every word, and Jess wants nothing more than to kill him, to stop him from talking to Sam like that. 

You have no idea who’s in front of you, she thinks angrily. You’re a bug to us. 

“It’s a long story,” Sam says with a scowl. “But, Dad–Are you all right? What are you doing here?” 

Jess is too busy fuming to really pay attention to what they all say to each other, to hear them talk about following tracks, about hunter mentors, about good men, until Johnny says the magic word: Colt.

“When you searched the place, did you– did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?”

“The Colt?” Jess asks, surprised. The old man she’s allowing Sam to play detective about had the Colt? 

“How do you know about that?” John demands, fingers twitching. Jess wonders if he’s considering reaching for a gun or a flask. 

“You think you’re the only one who heard the tale? A bit self centered there, John.”

“What’s the Colt?” Sam asks, looking between her and John. 

“It doesn’t matter,” John lies, turning to look at Dean. Dean straightens out in his seat a bit, and Jess has a brief moment of self recognition with that, which sours her mood even more. “Dean. Was there a Colt?”

“Uh, there was– there was an old case but it was empty.” Dean answers, at the same time that Jess says, “Wow, it sounds like it does matter.”

“Jess…” Sam murmurs, trying to get her to calm down. She glares at him, daring him to stop her, because she knows he doesn’t really want her to. He wants someone to stand up to his assumed father, to know what he knows, that Sam is better, that John is nothing. 

“No,” Jess snaps. “He ignores you for months, and then thinks he can just come here, demand answers out of you, after he made you do all the work? You’re not tools or luggage, he can’t just expect you to bend over like this.”

Dean’s face pales as Jess goes on, while Sam’s goes red, but Jess looks at John, glaring at him. 

“Christo.” John says fiercely, staring straight into Jess’ eyes. 

Jess was a powerful being when she was alive, and an even more powerful being now. High powered blood flows through this body, and that has some advantages; holy words and land don’t affect her.

“Just because someone stands up to you, doesn't make ‘em a demon, sorry, Johnny-boy.” Turning to Sam, she says, “The Colt is a gun that can kill anything.”

“What?” Sam and Dean question at the same time. 

“Yeah, some hunter or something made it like a little over 100 years ago, and it’s been missing just as long. 13 bullets, each one specifically designed to kill any being, supernatural or otherwise.” Azazel has been looking for that gun for over 50 years. And to think some old codger had it for who knows how long. Jess turns to John, smiling. “Oh, is that okay for them to know, John?”

 

Safe to say, the energy for the rest of the night is a little down. 

It gets worse when John mentions that he thinks it was vampires who killed the old man, because Johnny boy thought they were extinct. Jess does laugh at him, not even for cruelty’s sake; she simply is just astounded this man is still alive, and didn't kill Sam and Dean along the years. 

Johnny decides that they’re all going to meet first thing in the morning to hunt the vamps to get the Colt, and Jess decides to keep her mouth shut about that, as she does rather they get the Colt, than her father. 

He might use it to kill her. Jess tries not to let that get to her. 

She stares at the way John looks at Sam. She thinks maybe the Colt’s not safe in John’s hands either. 

 

“You could have been nicer,” Sam says later that night, laying in their motel bed as Jess wipes her makeup off in the bathroom.

“Oh, baby, I could have been a lot meaner.” 

Sam snorts, and Jess looks out the open door to see him smiling at her, soft and stupid, laying on his stomach in just boxers and a t-shirt, arms crossed under his chin. “Yeah, I know.” 

Jess tosses the towel she was using on her face in the sink, heading towards bed. Sam moves to get off his stomach, but Jess puts a hand on his lower back, stopping him. “I think we both know you liked that I was mean to him,” Jess says confidently, straddling the back of Sam’s thighs as she gets into bed. His skin is warm where it touches her bare thighs, Jess, like Sam, dressed in only a shirt and underwear. “You like that I can stand up to him like you do.” 

“He’s still my dad,” Sam argues halfheartedly, sinking into the mattress a little as Jess goes to massage him through his shirt. 

Is he? Jess wants to ask. 

She views her brother as something akin to a changeling of lore. He was, at one point, John Winchester’s son, but then one night that changed. He changed. He’s something so much more powerful now, her father’s blood overtaking and rewriting Johnny’s. 

Jess leans down to kiss the back of Sam’s neck, pulling his hair to the side. “He doesn’t deserve you.” 

Sam laughs. “I know.” 

Jess continues to massage his back, hands sliding down to the hem of his shirt before sliding back up, hands under. Sam makes a small sound of pleasure at the act, and Jess smiles. Jess thinks she was kinda short as a human, and this vessel is almost half a foot shorter than Sam, but still, sometimes he looks so small to her. 

Sometime in the 1970s, Azazel started talking about a special child, one he would make for their God, Lucifer. He would never say what this special child was for, how Lucifer would use him, nor what he needed him for, but Jess didn’t care. This special child would be made from her father, to serve their Father. 

Sam was always such a lovely thought in her head, some sort of hero, or fairy tale prince. She used to fantasize about him, him storming Hell and raising all the demons, freeing Lucifer, bringing Hell on Earth. 

When they met at that little Halloween party sophomore year, he was like nothing she imagined. While he was something completely other, like she thought, he still held so tightly onto human nature— he tried to be selfless, and non violent, he tried to smile with his dimples at the good stuff, and frown at the bad stuff. He makes himself small. 

Sam blushed when he first saw her, Brady making introductions, Sam’s eyes flittering around her face, avoiding her chest. She went as a sexy demon, thinking it funny; blood red heart shaped top, red leather pants, little horns as hair clips. 

They kissed for the first time that night, hidden in the corner of that party, Sam’s lips soft against hers even when his hands were rough against her waist, like he couldn’t help himself. 

She’s not a better person for loving Sam. She didn’t learn empathy, or human decency, or anything like that. Anything she did for their father— lie, steal, kill, whatever— she would do for Sam. She would in a heartbeat, without him even having to ask. 

She wants him to ask her, though. 

She loves him, and that means she wants the best for him, of him. Her fingertips skim each vertebrae of his back. She knows she can make him strong enough that no one can ever have him feel small, even himself.  

“We could leave, you know,” Jess tells him, pushing Sam’s shirt up to his shoulders. She kisses the middle of his back, keeping her lips against his skin as she continues, “Nothing really has changed from when you went to college. Father still killed your mother, John still is blinded by it. I’m still alive. You don’t have to go back to this.”

Jessica Lee Moore is legally dead— and her parents are dead too, legally, physically, all that stuff, their daughter paying them a little visit a few months ago— so it’s not like they could just fly back to Stanford. She doesn’t want to go back to college, anyway, but maybe they could do something else, go somewhere else. 

If he wants to hunt, that’s fine. She doesn’t care who she kills. She just wants them to be together, how they should be, and being away from Dean and John is how they do that.

“What would we do?” Sam asks her softly. “Where would we go?”

Jess pulls up his shirt a little more, prompting Sam to uncross his arms so she can take it off, tossing it on the floor. 

“Anywhere we want,” Jess answers easily. She runs her hands up his side, over his shoulders, his biceps. He’s been filing out this year, muscles firmer and more prominent. She leans down to nibble at him a little, Sam humming in approval. “Anything we want. We could live our lives, and no one else's." 

“Where would you want to go?” 

Jess considers the question as she moves back Sam’s hair to kiss at his ear, pressing her front to his back, sliding a hand between him and the mattress. She slips a hand into his boxers, smiling against his skin when she feels his hardness. “Chicago, Detroit, maybe,” she says over his grunt, curling her hand around him, and slowly pumping. “Or we could just travel, for fun. You remember fun, don’t you?”

Sam nods his head, rubbing it on his crossed arms, hands gripping the sheets. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “‘Course.”

“What was the last time you did anything for fun?” She strokes him faster.

“Right now?”

“Clean fun, then,” Jess laughs, kissing under his ear. “Not our little dirty fun.”

“It’s all dirty with you, Jess,” Sam teases, before biting back a moan when Jess twists her hand a certain way he goes crazy for. 

Oh, baby, Jess thinks. You have no idea. 

“We could go to the Lizzie Borden house,” Jess suggests, working her hand faster, kissing and biting his neck, feeling his heartbeat soar. “Spend a night there. Beds were small back then, you think we could still manage a fuck in the parents’ bed?”

Sam twitches in her hand, biting his own arm to muffle his moan. 

“Could do it on the floor, I guess,” Jess muses, rubbing her pussy against his ass cheek, watching the way Sam’s teeth imprint into his skin. “Right where mommy got axed.”

“The step-mom was killed in a guest room,” Sam corrects her, voice muffled by his arm.

Jess laughs joyfully, pressing her forehead against the back of his neck. She picks up speed, both in her hand and her hips, dry humping him like she was fucking him. Jess misses all the toys she had, all the ones burnt and melted in their apartment. “Love that you know that,” She says earnestly. “We’ll get that guest room then.” 

“Fuck,” Sam groans, pressing his ass against her cunt, before trying to push forward into her hand. “That’s…”

“A possibility," Jess promises. She thrusts faster, harsher, a small repeated creak in the bedframe, tasting Sam’s heartbeat in his neck. “If we go our own way.”

“Jess,” Sam moans. “I—I— ah—!” 

Sam cums while biting into his arm to muffle the sound, hips jerking against Jess’. He pants open mouth against his arm, a single string of spit connecting his lips to the bruising teeth marks. Jess pulls her hand out of his boxer, moving both to his shoulder blades and pushing down. She fucks up against his ass like that, watching his eyes flutter open to look at her. 

“Let me take you away,” Jess moans, imagining it. She’ll get the Colt, keep it with her, where no one can use it to hurt her, or Sam. They’ll go wherever they want, fuck wherever they want, do whatever they want. It’ll be the closest to Heaven they could ever get to. Nothing could touch them, tie them down, force them. A family of two. 

Jess cums in her panties, hips rubbing against Sam’s ass as she comes down from it. She falls against Sam’s back when she’s done, panting into his ear. 

“Take me away, huh?” Sam murmurs after a moment. 

“Yeah,” Jess slides off Sam’s back and onto her own next to him, shimmying out of her cumstained panties and tossing them on the floor. “Will you let me?”

Sam turns over so he’s on his back as well, taking off his boxers so he’s naked, throwing them towards her panties. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I think… we’ll help my dad get this gun, and then we can go.”

They lean towards each other in unison, lips meeting. “I can’t wait.” 

 

Jess wakes to Sam’s lips against her neck, his hand rubbing her stomach under her shirt. They’ve turned over in their sleep, Sam spooning Jess, the two of them under the top sheet. 

“Hey,” Jess pushes herself more into his embrace, letting him kiss her neck at his pleasure. He’s not hard at all, soft against her ass, but he still kisses her, thumb dipping around to her navel. He just likes to be close to her. She once again thinks about possessing him, at least for a moment. 

“You awake?” Sam murmurs, kissing behind her ear. 

“Am now.”  She reaches behind her, grabbing at his thigh. She doesn’t pull it towards her, doesn’t move it at all, just holding onto him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Did you mean what you said last night,” Sam whispers between where her shoulders meet her neck. “About taking me away?”

Jess rolls over to face Sam, who pulls back a little so he can look at her. His eyes are earnest and wide, like a little kid, but behind them Jess can see how badly he wants to live the life she proposed to him. “Yeah, baby,” Jess swears. She kisses him, left hand cupping his jaw. “I’ll take you anywhere, we can steal a car.”

Sam laughs at that, and Jess kisses his laughing mouth, wondering how much Sam knows she’s serious, and how much of him cares.

“Well, we–” 

Sam is cut off by three loud bangs on their motel door, followed by John’s voice calling out, “Sam, let’s go! Dean’s already in the car. Be out in five.”

“Alright!” Sam calls back irritatedly, a slight scowl taking over his laughter. Sam pulls away from Jess, and off the bed, heading towards the underwear they threw off last night. He  picks them up and hands them to Jess, asking, “Can you clean these while I get our clothes out?”

“Why do I have to clean them?” Jess protests, getting up as well. 

“You’re the one who decided to fuck my ass while we were still clothed.”

“Now you complain,” Jess rolls her eyes, but takes the underwear, unable to stop herself from adding, “And please don’t tell me it’s been so long without me actually fucking your ass that you got the two confused.”

Sam blushes, boyish and cute like always.

Jess cleans his boxers and her panties in the bathroom sink, wrapping them up in the empty plastic bag that was in the bathroom trash can. She tosses the bag to Sam when she walks out, who catches it easily, putting it back in one of their two duffel bags. 

He’s already dressed for the day, black shirt with a blood red polo, the latter a color she very much likes on him. Hanging over the motel’s mini fridge are the clothes he picked out for her– matching black bra and panties, a dark grey lace trimmed top, not one of her high rise ones, she notices, and one of her unripped jeans, not one of the low rise ones, with her dark red leather jacket on the bottom.

She smirks up at him, knowing what he was doing; trying to make her look presentable. Jess rolls her eyes, taking off her top and throwing it at Sam, who once again catches it, putting it in the same duffel as the bag of underwear. 

“You know why Johnny boy needs us to go, ASAP?” Jess asks as she gets her panties on, then looping her arms through her bra straps.

Sam walks up behind her and clasps her bra for her, replying sourly, “I’ll ask, but I doubt he’ll tell us until we're there.”

“Does he always do that?” Jess wonders, pulling on her jeans next, turning around once they were on. “If it were me, I’d kill him.”

“No, you wouldn't." Sam argues, watching her put her shirt over her head, pulling out her necklaces from under it. 

“No?” Jess asks, running her fingers through her hair in lieu of brushing it. “I wouldn’t?” 

Sam smiles at her, nearly condescendingly, but still too sweet for it exactly. “Jess, c’mon. Your dad has sent people to kill you, and you still aren’t gung-ho on us killing him.”

Jess pauses putting on her jacket, frowning at Sam. “That’s different.”

“How?”

Jess just shakes her head. “C’mon, I don’t want John knocking down our door.” 

 

Jess really loves watching Sam fight John; she loves watching Sam stand his ground, question John, demand answers. It really is a beautiful thing to witness. He stops curling up into himself when he fights John, stands up staller, uses his height. It’s kinda really hot. 

Dean lets Sam drive the impala tonight, for the reason, Jess believes, that he wants Sam’s hands on the wheel, and not on Jess, Jess’ hands doing little else besides touching Sam since Sam first yelled at John. 

Speaking of. “Yeah, Dad. All right, got it.” Dean hangs up his phone, pocketing it before turning to Sam, saying, “Pull off at the next exit.”

Sam, teeth clenched, asks angrily, “Why.” 

“‘Cause Dad thinks we've got the vampire's trail.”

Sam, even more angrily, asks, “How.”

Jess bites her lip to stop herself from smiling. It’s kinda really really hot.

“I don't know. He didn't say.” Dean sighs.

In response, Sam slams his foot on the gas, accelerating the car until they overtake John’s stupid truck. Once in front of John’s truck, Sam slams on the brakes, making the impala swerve to the side. John has the option to either slam into them, or slam on his brakes, and the option is one he has to decide on soon.

John decides the latter, and no sooner does he stop, that Sam gets out of the car, shutting his door so loud the frame shakes.

Jess shifts in her seat, horribly turned on. God, she needs to blow him. 

“Sam!” Dean yells, rushing after him. 

John and Sam rush towards each other, John yelling in Sam’s face, “What the hell was that?”

“We need to talk,” Sam snaps. 

“About what?” John snarls.

Jess gets out of the car, pushing past Dean to get closer, to see the fire in Sam’s eyes, but Dean grabs her by the arm, stopping her. “Trust me, you don’t wanna get in between that.”

“About everything!” Sam yells. “Where we going, Dad? Why have you ignored us for almost a year?” 

“I don’t want to stop Sam,” Jess pulls her arm out of Dean’s grip easily. 

John glares at Sam. “We don't have time for this.” 

Jess walks until she’s by Sam’s side, glaring at John with Sam, as Sam yells, “Out of the blue you need our help!” He’s so beautiful like this. Jess feels dizzy with how much she loves him. She grabs his arm, unable to stop herself from touching him any longer.  Sam, not looking away from John, moves his arm so that it’s around Jess’ waist, seemingly unaware he’s holding onto her as he continues to yell. “You didn’t want us to know about the gun, you didn’t want us to know you were here, why? Last time we talked, you said we couldn’t be any part of this, what changed?”

“Get back in the car.”

“No,” Sam says, looking astounded that John would even demand that. It astounds Jess too. Can’t he see how dangerous Sam is? Can’t he see how much stronger Sam is, how much smarter?

“I said get back in the damn car,” John takes a step closer, and Jess thinks towards Sam, Hit him. Stab him. Skin him. Kill him. Kill him. 

“Yeah,” Sam scoffs. “And I said no.”

“Okay, you made your point tough guy.” Dean, hovering around this fight looking unsteady, finally gets closer, firmingly talking to both of them. “Look, we're all tired, we can talk about this later.” Jess doesn't know who takes a step towards John first, her or Sam, but they both do, not willing to let Dean stop them. “Sammy, I mean it, come on. Jess, not helping here.” Dean grabs Sam’s shoulder with one hand, pushing him away, the other going back to Jess’ arm, pushing her as well.

“Fine,” Sam snaps, as Jess hits Dean’s hands off them. “This is why I left in the first place.”

Jess whispers to him, “We’ll be gone soon,” probably not heard over John shout, “What'd you say?”

Sam swings around to face John again, baring his teeth. “You heard me.”

“Yeah,” John scoffs angrily. “You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.” John rushes back towards them, yelling at Sam’s face. Sam doesn't bow down, doesn't back away. He’s angrier than ever before, shaking with it. Jess holds on to him through it. 

“Jess, get out of there,” Dean says to her, low and frantic. She hasn’t seen Dean that scared, not in the months they’ve been in close corners with each other. Jess wonders if Sam has ever gotten violent with John, or vice versa.

“You guys didn't need me! You didn’t even want me!” 

“Someone should stand by his side,” Jess tells Dean firmly. John can’t hurt her, and Sam should know she’s here, with him in the thick of it. 

“You’re the one who walked away!”John grabs Sam by his jacket, and although Sam doesn’t react to that, Jess sure does. 

She grabs on to John’s wrist, pulling his hand off of Sam, waiting so badly to do more, snarling, “Don’t you fucking touch him.”

John turns to Jess once her hands are on him, and if John knew he could, Jess is sure he would exorcise her then and there. Because he doesn’t know he can, Jess thinks he’ll settle for hitting her instead. 

“Jess, stop,” Dean tries again. “C’mon, Sam….”

“Don’t look at her!” John goes back to Sam when he yells, and the hate in his eyes doesn't change. Sam’s eyes are wet, and Jess wonders what’s causing it— his anger at John, or his sadness at being denied family? “She’s the only one who cares about me, without all this shit! You’re just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore, that I have other people now! Well, guess what! This is it! We’re helping you with this last hunt, and then Jess and I are gone!”

That’s enough for Dean, who pushes them all apart. “Stop it, stop it! All of you!” He corrals Jess and Sam closer to the impala, barely touching his father while he separates them. “That means you too,” Dean says to John, which surprises Jess a little.

Wordlessly, Sam heads towards the impala, Jess with him. Once Sam gets in the driver's seat, Jess forgoes the back seat by getting in the passenger’s side, immediately grabbing Sam by the hair and pulling his mouth towards hers. She kisses him fast and dirty, pulling his hair and scratching at his scalp, tongue shoved in his mouth, moaning. Oh, if she knew she could get away with it, she would unzip Sam right here, suck him off. Dean could stay in the backseat until Sam cums, for all Jess cares.

That fight with John was so beautiful; Sam never backed down, he was strong, was sure. Jess feels like, with that kind of anger, Sam could do anything. Kill anyone. He could decide his life, and destroy anyone who tried to stop him. 

Jess lets go of Sam almost as soon as she starts the kiss, a line of spit connecting their mouth. 

He blinks at her in surprise when she pulls away, a furrow between his brow. He still looks angry, which Jess is delighted to see, but mostly, right now, he looks how he always looks when he’s staring at her.  

In love. 

There's a harsh rap of knuckles against the passenger side window, and they both turn to look, Dean frowning at them from outside the car, hand still raised. “Get in the back,” Dean demands of her tiredly. 

“No,” Jess turns back to Sam, kissing his top lip, before getting comfortable in her seat. 

Dean apparently lost all the fight in him just by talking to his dad, as he silently gets in the backseat. Jess thinks of him, uncharitably, like a kicked dog.

“Drive, Sam,” Dean says, forehead pressed against his window. “Please, man.”

Sam does, following John’s truck without a word. 

The car is quiet for a while, Sam still fuming a bit, Dean moping, and Jess trying not to jump Sam. She absently plans what she wants Sam to do to her when they have the chance, imagining him holding her down, choking her, hitting her, fucking her with so much violence she’ll–

“What was that, you talking about leaving?” Dean asks.

“What it sounds like,” Sam answers blandly. “We’re gonna get the gun, and then we’re gone.”

“What, why?”

“Why did I join you in the first place, Dean?” Sam questions, irritated. Jess puts a hand on his knee, not to quell him, just to touch him. “Dad was missing, and Jess was dead. Well, Dad is just fine, and Jess is alive. There’s no reason to keep doing this.”

“So what, you two are just going to go back to Stanford?” A kicked dog, Jess thinks, whose owners send it away. 

“Why, is there somethin’ wrong with that?” Sam snarks, glaring at the back of John’s car.

“No. No, it’s, uh, great.” Dean lies unconvincingly. “Good for you.”

“Does it matter?” Jess questions, turning around to look at Dean. “What, he has to keep on being dragged around by you or your dad, just so you’re not alone?”

“He stayed because he’s family,” Dean argues, glaring at her. “‘’Cause it’s the right thing.”

“I’m his family,” Jess reminds him fiercely. I’m more his family than you. 

“You may have a ring but I’m his brother,” Dean says, and isn’t that funny. “It’s fine if he wants Rosemary’s Baby as a bride, but he still has–”

“Can the two of you shut up?” Sam snaps at them. 

“Excuse me?” Jess questions, turning back to Sam. “You wanna say that again, baby?”

Sam, smart boy, looks a little shame-faced when he glances at her, mumbling out a, “Sorry,” before saying stiffly, “Dean, we’re leaving after this, okay? I don’t want this to be my life. I want to marry Jess, and I’m going to, and we’re gonna find our own way.”

“So you’re just gonna abandon your family again, huh?” Dean asks, voice hollow. 

“No. If you call, I’ll pick up this time.”

Dean snorts, shaking his head, and the car goes silent again.

 

 🔥💛🩸💛🔥

 

The first thing John says when they meet up in a wood clearing near a barn, everyone getting out of the cars, is to Sam, asking, “Can she fight?”

“Cute, but she has a name, thanks.” Jess snarks back dryly. 

Sam feels bad for thinking it, but he misses it when his dad was missing. He liked hunting with Dean and Jess, enjoyed the thrill of killing monsters with his fiancée and brother. He didn’t mind the life, when he was with them. John being back stirs some horrible emotion in his chest, though. He doesn’t think he hates his dad, but just being around him makes him so angry. He hates how he was raised, how John treated him and Dean, how many choices John took from him, how he’s treating Jess, but— he can’t hate him, can he?

“She kicks ass, don’t worry about her,” Dean says, somehow making it seem like an insult, at least to Sam. 

“Where did you learn about all this?” John asks Jess, opening the back of his truck. He asks as if trying to catch her in a lie, or trick her. Sam grinds his teeth in irritation, reaching for Jess to calm himself down. She grabs his reaching hand, intertwining their fingers. 

The three of them, Sam, Jess, and Dean, decided last night in the car, following John to the motel, that John could never know about Jess’ dad. Dean agreed that he would try to use her as a pawn, or bait, maybe even just hurt her because of it, and although she and Dean still don’t like each other, Sam knows Dean would never let that happen to someone. 

“I’ll just tell him my dad is a demon expert,” Jess had said with a smile, acting like Sam was being silly, maybe overprotective. He knows she can take care of herself, even more now that he knows the truth, but she’s still his fiancée, and he would hate it if his dad even tried to hurt her. 

“What if he asks for your dad’s name? You know, trying to see if he knows the demon expert.” Dean had asked.

Jess had rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll give him a name. You know, lie.” 

In the present, Jess indeed lies. 

“My father knew a lot about demons and stuff,” Jess answers, trailing her fingers along the top of the impala’s trunk. “He used to be a priest in Maryland.” 

“Did he now?” John asks, sounding more suspicious, which Sam doesn't get. That could be a reason for her knowing all this, so easily. Her father could have been like Pastor Jim, could have taught her what he knew but kept her out of the life. 

“Yeah, he quit when he decided he wanted to start a family.”

“Dad, what’s with the third degree?” Sam snaps, still feeling the adrenaline of their earlier fight. 

“I can’t get to know your girlfriend, Sammy?” John asks, back to Sam. Sam has the horrible urge to bash him over the head, but controls it. He loves his dad. He doesn’t want to hurt him. “C’mon, I’ll show you the nest.”

 

It’s always a little weird when the monsters they kill are, well, human. Ghosts, rougarous, curses, tulpas, that’s something Sam doesn’t think about much anymore. If they were human, or made by humans, they weren’t anymore. They were closer to animals than people. 

Other things though, things like apparently vampires, that’s– they look like people. 

Sam watches one drive up to the old barn he, his dad, Dean, and Jess are staked out at, half heartedly arguing a bit with one of the vamps out front, before they both head back inside. Sam has wondered, in his teenage years, how one draws the line. He used to think this about zombies and shifters, knowing how blurred the lines between monster and human is– a shifter who sheds skin to kill and rob, that’s a monster. What about one who sheds skin and has a job, a life of no crime? What about a human who robs and kills? 

Where is the line drawn? Who decides what is okay to kill and not? His dad? God? 

Sam doesn't know, has never figured that one out; it’s one of the reasons, one of many, he wanted to quit this life. 

Hand a 13 year old a gun, tell him to shoot the monster who killed people, he will. Hand a 23 year old a gun, tell him to shoot the person who killed people, who knows what he will do.

 

Sam fucks up the hunt. Looking back, he should have realized what the blood around the woman’s chest and mouth meant, should have connected the dots. But Sam was too busy thinking about the lines of who should be killed and who shouldn't, about needing some rules, that he doesn’t. 

Jess, walking somewhere around the barn behind him, whisper-shouts, “Sam, wait–”

The woman screaming cuts Jess off, and then they run. 

 

“What the fuck was that, dummy?” Jess snaps at him once they’re back at the cars, him and Dean slightly out of breath. 

“I thought– I was trying to save her!” Sam argues, not willing to back down on this. 

There’s a line. There’s a line. 

“She already was turning! Why do you think she was tied up like a turkey to that post, and not in a cage?”

“I don’t know!” Sam throws his hands up, not aware of the hesitant way Dean watches him and Jess fight. “I thought maybe they were torturing her, or something! Are you seriously getting mad at me for trying to rescue someone?”

“No,” Jess grounds out, hands clenching at her side. Sam thinks, just for a moment, he feels a strong breeze around him. “No, just– I should have known you would have tried.” Jess shakes her head, and for some reason, Sam thinks Jess is disappointed in him. Sam scowls, irritated in not knowing why, when he hears footsteps. He turns, prepared to run or fight, but relaxes when he sees his dad. 

“C’mon,” John says once they reach them. “They’ll wait till tonight to follow us. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life.”

“Well,” Dean looks away from Jess and Sam to look at John, frowning, “What the hell do we do now?”

“You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what.” John answers, heading towards his truck. “Dean, get some blood there, Sam, follow me to the motel, I have a plan.”

“At least he said he has a plan this time,” Sam grumbles, low enough that John can’t hear. Jess shakes her head, but Sam can see her lips curl up a bit in a smile. She walks back to the Impala, hand briefly on Sam’s lower back as she passes him. 

Sam goes to follow her, but Dean stops him, hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, man?” Dean asks. “She really yelled at you…”

Sam rolls his eyes. If that’s Dean thinking Jess was yelling, he really had no idea. “I’m fine,” he said honestly, moving to get in the car, but Dean’s hand on his shoulder stops him. 

“‘Cause despite my problems with her, she really loves you, you know that, right?” Sam frowns, not understanding why Dean is saying this. Of course Jess loves him. 

“Yeah, man, I know.”

Notes:

Because 'Jess' never took over the actual Meg Masters as a vessel, and abandoned her father's plan, she therefore never met Sam in the Scarecrow ep, and she also didn't do the murders in the Shadow ep, ergo, Sam and Dean didn't see their dad there. John went missing, called them in Scarecrow, and then appears like he does in Dead Man's Blood. John Winchester you are a bad dad.

Chapter 3

Notes:

no sex in this one.... rip

“I think we should steal the Colt.” Jess hands Sam their cigarette as she says this, Sam hesitating for a second as he takes the cigarette. 

“What? Why?”

They’re outside the motel, waiting for Dean to come back with the dead man's blood, neither one of them wanting to spend time with John, currently inside his and Dean’s room. They both lean against the long wall that separates the motel rooms’ doors from the ice machine outside, shoulder to shoulder. Sam frowns around the cigarette, tapping the ash to the ground, before handing it back to her. 

“I don’t trust John with it,” Jess answers, taking the cigarette back. She really doesn’t; Sam’s last fight with John, once her libido was controlled, gave loud warning signs to her. She thinks he knows something about Sam, about Azazel, although she doesn’t know what. 

Does he know what Azazel is planning? What he turned Sam into? 

The Winchesters, to avenge their dead mommy and wife, want to kill her father; she’s getting used to that, for Sam.

She has a fear, though, one she really believes, that John won’t let it end with Azazel. If he finds out about Sam, what Sam is, he’ll kill him too. 

He doesn’t need to use the Colt for it to work, but if he thinks Sam’s a monster, she knows that’ll be the weapon he chooses. 

Jess won’t give him the chance. 

“I won’t let him hurt you, Jess,” Sam tells her seriously, turning so he faces her, his shoulder against the wall. Jess smiles up at him, her sweet, silly boy. As if John Winchester could ever be a threat to her. She cups his face with the hand holding the cigarette, getting ash on his shoulder, leaning up to kiss him briefly. 

“I’m not worried about me,” Jess says as she leans back, putting the cigarette in his mouth. 

“Your dad?” Sam questions, confused. “I thought you—“

“No, not him either,” Jess interrupts, turning on her side as well. “John doesn't know about your powers, does he?”

Even if she didn’t know the answer, Sam’s cringe said enough. “No.”

“I don’t think he should know,” Jess tells him, waiting for him to inhale again before taking the cigarette back. 

“He’s my dad.”

“He’s a hunter.”

“So am I.” 

“Are you?” Jess questions, crushing the cigarette against the wall before tossing it in a trashcan. “I thought this was your last hunt.” 

Sam frowns, looking confounded. “I….”

“I know, I know. “ Jess puts a hand on Sam’s chest, thumb rubbing his collarbone through his shirt. Sam still wants to save people, still thinks he needs to; his stupid behavior in that nest proves it. It's irritating, but Jess is patient, she can wait and help him get to where he needs to go.  “But, baby, trust me; Hunters like him won’t care if you're human, they’ll just see a freak.”

Sam flinches like Jess hit him, making her frown. He's curling in on himself again, making himself smaller. 

“You’re not a freak, Sam,” Jess promises him, earnestly trying to get him to believe. She knows his faults— he’s oblivious, presumptuous, somehow filled with self doubt while still being arrogant— and being a freak isn’t one. He's the most wonderful person she’s ever met, in all her years. She adores him, loves him, worships him; how could he think he was less than? “I would know.”

“You’re not a freak,” Sam replies, quick to defend her. 

Jess smiles widely, laughing a little. “Never said I was,” She teases. “But thanks, that proves my point. We’re alike, aren't we? So….”

She taps his chest, prompting him to finish her thought. 

“So I’m not either,” Sam rolls his eyes, like he was indulging her, that prick. “Were you taking psych classes I don't know about?” 

“Funny, Winchester.” Jess says dryly, making Sam smile. She moves to kiss him again, and then once more, before repeating his own words against the corner of his mouth, “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Sam swallows, a look of genuine pain overtaking him. Jess holds him as he tucks his face into the side of her head, taking in the scent of shared motel conditioner, breath unsteady. “He won’t.”

“That’s what fathers do,” Jess says softly, thinking of God, of Azazel, of John.

If Sam makes it so she can’t steal the Colt, then she’ll do the only other thing she can: she’ll protect Sam, and she’ll stop John. John’ll make it easy for her, she thinks. With his anger, maybe she can kill him when he goes after Sam– for he will go after Sam, Jess knows it– and Sam can accept that. She knows he can. She’ll kill him, and they can go their own way, together. 

Sam whispers against her hair, “I love you,” and Jess closes her eyes, bathing in the words. 

Jess knows love. She’s seen so many forms of it, outside and inside its magnetic field. The love of a parent, the love to a god, the love of a partner, she knows those intimately. She’s seen the love of siblings, of friends, even strangers. Those she doesn’t get, not as much. The love she has for Sam is twisted, so many different forms curling into itself, and all the more powerful for it. 

Who else could say she loves her boyfriend, her holy figure, her king, her brother, her friend, and mean the same person?

“I love you, too.”

The sound of the impala’s car horn breaks their moment, Dean pulling into the parking lot. Jess and Sam pull away from each other at the sound, Sam halfheartedly greeting Dean when he gets out of the car, the bottle of blood hidden in a paper bag. 

“Man,” Dean says with false cheer. “Some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys.”

🔥💛🩸💛🔥

This was always the worst part of hunting, the baiting. 

Sam never understood, and still doesn’t understand, why his Dad always makes Dean do it. He guesses it always works, sure, but the way Dean acts afterwards…

He can’t imagine making a hunting partner do that, let alone his kid. 

Sam wonders if he should ever have kids, him and Jess. Beyond the fact that Sam doesn’t know what exactly a kid from him and Jess would be— would it be human? Jess is only part human, and Sam doesn’t even know what he is, why he has these powers— but how could he ever know what was the right thing to do for a child, knowing what is too much, too little? He only realized what he was missing from friends growing up, from tv shows and movies, and from what little Dean could give him. 

Sam looks at his father, and reflects on what this man had turned him into. Reflects on if John would kill him, like Jess thinks he will try, for his own view of justice. 

“I'll have her,” John says. “And the Colt.”

I think we should steal the Colt, Jess had said.

“But after– We're gonna meet up, right?” Sam asks. “Use the gun together. Right?” 

I won’t let him hurt you.

John won’t look at him. Jess, by his side as always, watches John like he’s a threat.

That’s what fathers do.

Why doesn’t John want Sam around him while he has the gun? 

“You can't treat me like this.” Sam hisses, shaking his head. 

“Like what?” John scoffs. “I thought this was your last hunt, Sam.”

“You can’t treat me like an outsider!” Sam yells. “I’m your son!”

“That’s right, you're my son,” John agrees calmly, not yelling, and that just pisses Sam off more. “Which means I have to protect you.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jess snaps at the same time Dean says, “All due respect, sir, but, uh, that's a bunch of crap.”

Sam and John stare at Dean in shock, Dean looking wide eyed at Jess, who glares at John. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve never protected them.” Jess jeers. “All you’ve done is command them and get pissed off when they even try to ask why, try to do something of their own.”

Sam doesn’t think he’s ever seen his dad this angry at a person; not even when they fight, not even the last time they saw Bobby. His nostrils flare out as he looks at Jess, hands squeezed into tightly bound fists. “Yeah? Is that right?” John asks, a mocking lit to his words. “Dean, you agree?”

Despite Dean having called John’s statement about protecting Sam a load of crap, Sam thinks that Dean is gonna fold, like he always did when Sam was a kid. “You’ve had us hunting, hand picked some that Sam…” Dean trails off, and somehow Sam knows Dean is thinking of the Roosevelt Asylum. Of the way he almost killed Dean. “That I almost died on. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” John says through clenched teeth. “But we're running out of time. “You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order.”

“You–” Jess hisses, hand reaching into her pocket, and for a moment, Sam truly feels she might kill his dad. He grabs her wrist without thinking, and Jess turns her glare onto him. 

It’s us or them, he sees in Jess’ eyes. 

Don’t, he tries to say. Please.

“Maybe it’s good this is your last hunt, Sam,” John says, turning his back on them. 

That’s what fathers do.

They still save John, of course. They kill the vampires, they save John, they get the Colt. A victorious day, Sam guesses. 

Back in their motel room, Jess sits on Sam’s lap on their bed, wiping the vampire blood off his face with the piece of toilet paper she wetted with her tongue. Sam rests his head on her chest as she cleans his face, head rising and falling with each intake and outtake of her breath. Dean packs his stuff in his and John’s room, and Sam wonders if this is it. Jess'll clean him up, and maybe Dean will drive them somewhere, or maybe the two of them will hitchhike. 

“Can you turn into a vampire?” Sam asks randomly. 

“What?” Jess laughs softly, the vibrations of her chest buzzing in Sam’s head. 

“Physically, can you turn into a vampire?” It would make sense if she couldn’t. She’s already not fully human, maybe the vampire DNA can’t overwrite the demonic parts. Do demons have DNA? He should probably ask that too. 

“No,” Jess answers simply, wiping Sam’s cheek with her thumb once she’s done cleaning his face. Sam closes his eyes, relaxed by her touch. He feels a little like he’s crashing, the adrenaline from his day long fights with John, the fight with the vampires, drained out of him. He wishes he could sleep. “Oh, baby,” Jess sighs, stroking Sam’s hair. Sam has the fleeting thought that Jess would be a good mom.

The thought is only a brief one, as a sudden pain overtakes Sam, like a pitchfork stabbing him through the skull. “Jess—“

Sam sees the silhouette of a man, most of him hidden in shadows. Sam can’t even see where he is, just that it’s inside. The image shifts, and then Sam sees a window, looking outside to a park, or maybe a playground, Sam seeing a swing set and sandbox. He hears a scream, right before his vision whites out. 

“Sam?” Hands are on his face, soft and warm, and familiar. Jess. “Sammy, baby, what did you see?”

Sam squeezes his eyes shut tight, letting the headache roll over him until it’s gone. The vision used to be so much worse, back in college, the dreams waking him up with blinding pain. Now, after two deep breaths, it fades into the background, Sam opening his eyes to look into Jess’. 

“Sam?” Jess questions again. “Answer me. What was it?” 

“I think… I saw your dad.” 

 

🔥💛🩸💛🔥

 

Sam yelled for Dean after telling Jess what he could of his vision, which isn't much. She does think the man he saw was Azazel, but she doesn’t understand why her father would be, what? In another kid's house, setting another mom on fire? He made all the children he wanted to, they're all the age he wanted them to be. Why would he make a new batch? It’s too late for them. Sam’s generation is the last. 

“I don’t know why he would go after another family,” Jess told Sam, a furrow between her brow. 

“Maybe Dean or my dad can help,” Sam said, and Jess can see how hard this is for him.

Jess tried to get Sam to stop and think about what she told him earlier, about John not knowing about Sam’s powers. Sam, looking as if he was sending himself to the gallows, had shook his head. Dean should know, and so John will find out. 

Now, Dean and John now stand in their room, Sam sitting at a chair from the tableset, Jess sitting on the actual table. Her feet rests on Sam’s seat, hands on his shoulders, as he tries to explain his vision to his brother and John, the latter severely frowning at them.

“You have visions,” John says flatly. “Visions.”

“Yes,” Sam says simply, although Jess can feel him tense up under her hands.

“And you think that the demon is going to go kill another mother,” John questions dismissively.  “Because you saw it. Or something like it. And that means it's true because…”

“Mind your blood pressure, John.” Jess says faux cheerfully, giving him a warning look. They make eye contact, and although he doesn’t have any proof, Jess knows he suspects her. Maybe not as a demon, but definitely as something.  

Jess kisses the crown of Sam’s head as Sam answers John sourly, “Because the things I see happen.”

“How long?” John asks Sam, looking at him in a way Jess hates. She scans him, checking to see if he has the Colt on him. She can’t tell. 

Jess holds onto Sam tighter, almost without realizing it, his shirt and jacket bundling up in her hands. She loosens her grip to let Sam answer. “For a while.” Sam says vaguely. “It– It got more powerful last year, though.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Dean says, standing straight, fiddling with his hands by his side. “I mean, the visions, they’ve been real helpful, and we saw Missouri, and she didn’t seem concerned, so–”

“When were you going to tell me about this?” John cuts off Dean, and Jess wonders about the fact that he’s demanding why Dean didn’t tell him, and not Sam. 

Dean winces. “I didn’t– We didn’t think it was anything to worry you about.”

“And who told you that?” John scoffs, shooting a baleful look her way. “Jessica?” John gets up, causing both boys to straighten up, pacing around the room. “All right, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me.”

 “Why?” Jess questions. “You would have…what? Yell a little?”

“Jess…” Sam mumbles. Jess starts to wonder if maybe his resistance towards her fighting John has less to do with any respect he may have to the man, and more fear for what John may do to her. She should, perhaps, antagonize John less, but she simply doesn’t want to. John can’t hurt her, but she sure can hurt him.

“And– and besides that,” Dean says unsteadily. Jess raises a brow at him, surprised. Little dog gonna bark? “Dad, I called you from Lawrence. Sam called you when I was dying. Getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery.” 

The world is full of absent fathers, Jess thinks. Absence has levels, has shades to it, though. There are some instances in which your father is in your life, before suddenly disappearing. You can take that as a good thing, or a bad thing. There are some that come and go when they please, never giving their children a solid grasp on when daddy will be nothing more than a story, a thing for later. And then there's the absent father who’s there. The one that stays, a presence in your life, but never really there. An absence that fills you, because the absence is all you know.

Jess doesn’t know which one Dean and Sam view John as, deep down. 

She doesn’t know which one she views Azazel as. 

Her hands tighten around Sam’s shoulders. 

John apparently has been stalking her father, as he knows all the omens he brings forward when he’s really working on something. John knows where Azazel will be. John has the Colt. 

What are you doing, father?  Jess thinks, looking out the impala window as the side of the road speeds past her. What’s your plan?

It can’t be that he gave up on whatever his secret plan for Sam is, gave up on Sam ruling hell some way. He spent so much time, so many steps, into that. Jess abandoning him wouldn't change Azazel’s mind– and even if he did, he has who knows how many other altered children to pick from, he wouldn’t need to make some new ones from scratch. 

“What do you think he’s doing, Jess?” Dean asks, hands tight on the steering wheel. “I mean, a guy in shadows who we think is Azazel, and a house near a swing set. Not a lot to go on.”

“He could be trying to make another Sam,” Jess answers carefully, balancing the line of what she can say and what she can’t. 

“Make another me?” Sam repeats, turning in his seat to look at her. 

Jess shrugs, like she’s not worried about it. “You know. Mom in flames. Special powers. He's done it before, I guess for some reason he’d want to do it again.” 

“I get my powers from Azazel?” Sam questions, distraught, the same time Dean says, “He’s done this before?”

“Okay, okay, slow down you two.” Jess says, thinking quickly. How much to admit, what to say, where to draw the line. “First: Sam, honestly? No clue, babe.” She’s not even lying. Yes, all the other children got their powers from Azazel’s blood, but her brother is a real child of Azazel, some sort of chosen one, the golden ticket. Did Sam always have these powers, and Azazel’s blood just strengthened them, or is it because of Azazel’s blood he has it in the first place?

Jess doesn’t know. 

“Second, Dean, well, duh, don’t be dim.” She thinks her father made all those other kids as practice, maybe, or perhaps curiosity, but she has no idea why he really did that. He never said. Still, any excuse to make fun of Dean. “He’s big into ‘try, try again’.”

She sees Dean frown in the rearview mirror, and Sam pouting just a bit, seemingly thinking hard about something. “How many?” Sam asks her. 

“Don’t know.” She has an idea, ranging around from 5 to 25, but that’s not what Sam wants to hear. “Sorry.” 

“You know, Jess, next time you talk about the fucked up shit your dad does,” Dean starts, using the tone that Jess has started taking as the ‘Dean is being annoying’ voice. “Maybe try to sound actually apologetic.”

“Fuck off, Dean.”

 

🔥💛🩸💛🔥

 

With it being the four of them, it gets Sam thinking of Dean’s rude Scooby-Doo comment to Jess a few months back. Split up and look for clues. 

“Do you see anything?” Jess asks him, the two of them walking hand in hand down the streets. They both are coming back from a local hospital, Sam having looked through birth records John told him to look through, trying to find a baby born six months ago, while Jess– whose outfit, unlike Sam, could extremely not pass as a cop— did… whatever she did to look for omens of her dad. She offered to let Sam know, but something in him rebelled against it. He had a feeling her way of getting answers might have a tendency to be soaked in blood. He loved her, but some things he wasn't ready to face yet. 

“Like what?” Sam responds, looking at the way the sunlight reflects and shines against her hair. Her jacket is off, meaning when her curls bounce, the ends barely brush her bare shoulders. 

“Like the swing set you saw, chucklehead.” Jess looks over at him, smiling teasingly. 

“How are you so relaxed?” Sam wonders, quelling the desire to kiss her. With the way Jess smiles at him, their entangled hands between them, he’s sure they look, well…normal. An average, non supernatural couple. Like how Sam thought they were– thought they both were– in college. “If all goes to plan, we’re killing your dad tonight.”

Jess’ smile drops, her face straightening out. Sam sees annoyance flicker in her eyes, there and gone in a second. “I know,” She retorts, looking away. “I don’t think you’re going to, though.”

“No?” Sam pulls her closer by the hand, not liking her upset with him, not about this. Jess lets herself be pulled, letting Sam move to wrap an arm around her shoulder, swiftly pressing his lips to her temple. “Why?”

“Think about it, Sam,” Jess sighs, crossing her arms. “Father has been alive since…I don’t even know when. He’s had this mission of his for decades, and he’s only now getting sloppy? Letting John track him? Getting your little priest friend stabbed through the skull? That’s not him. He’s planning something.”

“Maybe it’s because you left.” He’s not only saying it to flatter Jess, although he sees the corner of her mouth rise up a bit. “No, seriously, Jess. You said you followed all those rules, did all that stuff for him, and then you leave, so–”

Sam cuts himself off at the sound of the firetruck, realizing on the next breath that there was no firetruck, the pain behind his eyes letting him know it’s a vision, before Jess disappears before his eyes.

He sees a rounded table, a body being thrown on top, but the vision moves too quickly for him to tell anything about the person beyond they’re blonde. He hears another scream, the same voice as the first, as he looks outside the window again, seeing that swingset, two fire trucks blocking the view of anything else. 

“Sam!” Jess’ voice. The vision?  No, it can’t be. “Sam? Sam!” Sharp pain blooms on his cheek, and Sam knows that hand well, knows Jess just slapped him. Sam blinks, and looks up at Jess, the window and swingset gone. He’s on his knees on the sidewalk, Jess holding his face in her hands, on her knees with him, wearily looking at him. “We’ve gotta figure out how to make you not faint like a maiden when this happens.”

“Shut up,” Sam replies, rubbing between his eyes. “I saw more of the house…a kitchen…there was a firetruck outside. I think– I mean, I didn’t see any fire, but that means he’s doing it, right? Azazel is doing it again?”

Jess frowns, helping Sam to his feet. “No other features? Didn’t see anyone? The front door, even?” She sighs, and, listen, Sam knows her pretty well. He was always aware of her less-than-there empathy– used to joke she would have made a fantastic ADA– and he knows now that even some of that was for show. Jess lied to him, even if she likes to think she hasn’t. She’s more truthful now, and to be truthful, she has to be…Sam doesn’t think she’s cold hearted. It’s not that. He knows she loves him, and she loves her father despite the horrible things he does and is. She cares about things, and people she decides on. He doesn't blame her for the disinterested way she views other people, even Dean. He understands feeling disconnected from people, and he doesn’t even have a demon father who raised him to be, well, evil.

Jess is trying, if not to be good, per se, then to be someone that Sam loves. And Sam does love her. So she sighs, and Sam knows she's irritated by the hunt, by the search of people to save, and he understands. 

“A blonde woman, and a round kitchen table,” Sam tells her. “She was getting thrown on it though, so I didn’t see her face, or even how long her hair was. It was too fast.” Jess scowls. She looks away from him, towards the sun. “What are you thinking?”

“I might have a way to find him.” Jess purses her lips, like she’s thinking something over, a look he’s seen her make over thick philosophy books she used to study, over Sam’s essays she used to edit, over recipes they both tried to make. “I would need the Colt, though.”

“What?” Sam asks, surprised. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” 

“Because I don’t want to do it, for one,” Jess snaps, walking away. Sam quickly follows her, and once he’s back by her side, Jess adds, “It’ll also let John-boy know that I’m Azazel’s daughter. Another reason not to do it.”

“What is it?” 

“A spell,” Jess answers, sounding like she regrets even bringing it up. “Brings blood to blood. I could cast the spell, it would bring me to him, and then bam. Daddy’s dead.” Jess’ scowl deepens as she explains, and Sam can tell she really doesn’t want to do this. Still, and Sam feels bad for thinking this, if it stops Azazel…

It’s a lot to ask of. Sam doesn't know if he can. There’s also—

“But–” Sam pauses. He hates sounding dumb in general, but especially with Jess nowadays. He always knew she was smart, but without the guise of humanity over her, she’s allowed herself to reveal how smart she really is. She’s not the only one trying to be someone the other loves. “But I thought…aren’t demons, y’know, smoke? How can it bring you to him if the blood he has isn’t even his?”

“When a demon possesses someone,” Jess explains, still walking angrily. “Their soul infects the host body. It seeps through, to the very bones. It changes the blood, sulfur in the veins.” Sam doesn’t like the way Jess is talking. It stirs something inside him, something deep in his gut. He wants to grab at her, shake her, tell her to stop talking. “Some spells even need the blood of someone once possessed, the change is that deep. They’ll never be the same, once possessed. Always something different.”

“Jess?” 

Jess doesn’t answer, but she does stop walking. She turns towards Sam, scowl fading into a frown. She cups Sam’s cheek, eyes scanning his face, seemingly searching for something. “You’re it for me.” She strokes Sam’s cheek, and Sam can’t do anything but touch her elbow gently, almost afraid of what would happen if he broke her concentration. “You’re the one thing.”

“The one thing?” Sam echoes, confused beyond belief. Jess smiles at him, brushing her lips against his, barely a kiss. 

“Yeah.” Jess leans back, letting go of Sam as she does. She looks around them, at the normal, empty streets, and nods her head. “I’ll get supplies for the spell,” she tells Sam, turning back to him. “You tell Dean about the spell, and John I need the gun, and meet me back at the motel, kay? Let's be generous and say two hours.”

“Jess–” She kisses him again, stronger this time. He kisses back, but worries as he does. He wants Azazel dead, to avenge his mom’s death, to avenge the childhood Jess must have had, even to save the families he’s going after now, but– he wonders what he would do, if she put a gun in his hand, and told him to kill his father. He doesn’t know if he could do it; It’s one thing to let someone else do it, it’s another to do it yourself. “Are you sure?” Sam asks against her lips. “He’s your dad…”

Jess smiles at him, soft and teasing. “Yeah. And you're my everything else. Two hours, baby. See you then.”

“So she’s a witch,” John says grumpily as they get out of the car, Sam having explained as best we could with the little amount of information, and without telling his father about Jess’ parentage, he had.

“No,” Sam says, not even sure if it’s true or not. Is she? “We use spells sometimes, don't we?”

John huffs, still irritated, and Sam scowls at him a little, back to being angry at him. He really doesn’t like the way John treats her. 

“Anything to get rid of that sonabitch,” Dean offers as Sam unlocks his and Jess’ motel room. “I’ll be happy.”

“Yeah, I–”

Sam cuts himself off when he walks into the room, struck down in surprise.

The room is a mess. The table is split in half like a heavy force has been thrown on it, chairs splintered and fallen over. Their bags are ripped, as if someone was trying to find something, their clothes strewn across the floor. Most importantly, Sam sees blood, small puddles, right in the middle of all the mess.

“Oh, God,” Sam breathes, fear building somewhere in the middle of his chest, burning through him until it’s in his head, his hands, a terrible fire. “Jess.”

Notes:

uh-oh!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Crash and Burn