Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to ColtFan165, ks90, BlueEyedPisces, angeleyenc, Nelle07, SevenYearsLong, SPN Mum, kazza03, Leila, impalame, Joan J., AshlynPaige92, Alazensupernuke, and greentoothbrush for all the reviews!

Well, guys, volume 1 is officially finished. I know, I can't believe it either. It took a seriously long time, right? Anyway, I want to thank all my readers and reviewers and all the people who stuck it out even during those long stretches when it looked like I'd never update again. ;) You all rock. Look for volume 2 to be posted soon, probably in the next couple of weeks, under the name Lonely Is the Night. (Although I will be taking a short break in order to update a few other neglected fics of mine.) Thanks again everybody, and enjoy the last chapter!

P.S. I swear I wrote the section of this chapter that keeps referring to 'the planchette' before last night's episode. I swear it!

Chapter 62: In My Time of Dying

"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I'm getting that thing before it gets me."

The calm words were a cover masking the undeniable panic forming in his gut. It was a useless gesture, because none of the people Dean was trying to reassure could hear a single word he was saying.

Dean stood in the hallway outside his hospital room, staring at the three people gathered around the door. Sam's expression was a weird mixture of relief and despondence, and he was staring determinedly into the room, probably at Dean's bed. Jayne was before the window, and if he didn't know her so well, he might think there was nothing wrong with her… but he could tell, could see the subtle shifts in the way she stood, the tremble of her lower lip, the way something was just off in her eyes. Lynn and he were not exactly close, but nobody needed to be close to Lynn to see when she was upset. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve, and right now, although she was trying to be the strong, comforting presence in their little huddle, she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"It's some kind of spirit," he told them, even though nothing he said was reaching their ears. "But I could grab it. And if I can grab it, I can kill it."

If he still had a body, his legs might have been shaking. The memory of the spirit attacking him, of nearly dying – again… Dean remembered listening to his father and brother fighting; he remembered how he'd Swayzed that glass; he remembered the sudden weakness that had overpowered him. He recalled all too clearly coming around to his hospital room, watching the doctors and nurses scramble to save him, seeing that long robed, long-haired, all white specter hovering over his bed. The cold dread that had settled in his stomach… Dean remembered all of it; how he had charged in there, hollering at the spirit to keep away from him, grabbing the thing's arm… it had been more than cold; it had froze him to his very core… and he remembered the thing tossing him into the wall before taking off down the hall.

He'd followed it, but the thing vanished. And now he was back outside his hospital room, talking comfort to three people who couldn't see or hear him. Although, the way Sam turned his head to the left and frowned down the hallway… Dean began to wonder if that psychic, ghost whispering stuff had finally kicked in for his brother.

It didn't matter. Dean stared at the three of them just a moment longer, and then he turned away and went off in search of the specter. He wandered down hall after hall of the hospital ward, peering into rooms and staring at the different patients.

"Can't you see me? Why won't you look at me?"

The woman's desperate plea rang out in the hallway, travelling from the direction of the nurses' station. Dean frowned. "Now what?" he grumbled.

He took off towards the voice. As he reached the nurses' station, at the foot of the stairwell, Dean saw a young woman with bobbed black hair and hospital clothing weaving in and out of the passing patients and staff, shouting at them.

"Why won't you talk to me? Say something – anything!"

Dean took a chance. "Can you see me?" he called to her.

She whirled around, shocked. He made eye contact with her, something no one had given him since he'd woken up. "Yeah," the woman breathed.

Dean jogged up the stairs. "All right, just, uh…" he trailed off, at a loss for comforting words. "Calm down?" She stared at him. "What's your name?"

"Tessa."

"Ok, good. Tessa. I'm Dean."

She was staring at him in this very hopeless, rather appealing way. He stared back into her big brown watery eyes. "What's happening to me?" she asked him. "Am… am I dead?"

He swallowed. "That sort of depends."

Seconds later, the two of them were standing outside her hospital room, staring at Tessa's body lying in her hospital bed. She was still alive, but she was hooked up to several machines, and there were hoses coming out of her body. An older woman that Dean assumed was her mother sat at her bedside, holding her hand.

Tessa gave him that hopeless look again. "I don't understand. I just came in for an appendectomy."

Dean's breath hitched in his throat. "I hate to bear bad news, but… I think there were some complications."

She shook her head, turning away from the door. "It's just a dream," she insisted. "That's all. Just a very weird, unbelievably vivid dream."

Dean stared at her sympathetically. "Tessa… it's not a dream."

"What else could it be?"

He swallowed, trying to find a way to break this gently. "You ever heard of an out-of-body experience?"

Tessa wrinkled her forehead. "What are you, some New Age-y guy?"

Dean made a face. "You see me messing with crystals or listening to Yanni? It's actually a very old idea. It's got a lot of different names: bilocation, crisis apparitions, fetches? I think it's happening to us. If it is… it means that we're spirits… of people close to death."

She stared at him a moment, and then she turned to look at her body lying in the hospital room. "So we're going to die?"

"No," Dean quickly returned. "Not if we hold on. Our bodies could get better, and we'll snap right back in there and wake up."

Tessa stared at him again, looking him up and down, as though she still didn't quite understand… or, more likely, she really didn't know what to make of him. Dean totally understood – even now, he still wasn't quite sure what to make of his situation.

But he knew one thing: he had people counting on him, and he had to wake up. Sammy, Jaynie, Dad, Lynn… they needed him. Without him around, there was no telling what could happen to any one of them. He had to wake up; he had to get back in the fight; he had to protect them.

He had to find that spirit, and he had to kill it.

Lynn stood at the foot of John Winchester's bed, listening to Sam and Jayne talk about Dean, all the while with a frown on her face.

Steve had finally returned from his coffee run – totally fake coffee run, that is, thought up for the sole purpose of escaping the whole emotional Winchester situation – and he was leaning against the window, his face screwed up incredulously. She had a feeling the two of them were on the same page.

"What do you mean, you felt something?" John asked his son.

"I mean it felt like… like Dean! Like he was there, just out of eyeshot or something," Sam explained to the best of his ability. Lynn frowned at him, but Sam's eyes were fixed on his father.

"Same here," Jayne murmured. Sam was standing over John's bedside, but Jayne had attached herself to the wall, lingering beside the exit. "It just felt like… like he was there. I don't know."

Sam nodded. "I don't know what it is – if it's my psychic thing or if it's just easier for Dean to connect with Jayne and me… I just don't know. Do you think it's even possible? Do you think Dean could be around?"

Honestly, Lynn wasn't sure what she thought about the whole thing. She'd seen a lot of impossible things in her lifetime, too many to really rule anything out, but this situation with Dean didn't feel real. It felt like desperation.

Not that it mattered. Sam wasn't asking for her opinion; he was asking his father. John smiled slightly. "Anything's possible," he replied.

Sam nodded. "Well, there's one way to find out."

To Lynn's complete amazement, Sam turned away and marched towards the door. "Where are you going?" John called after him.

"I've just… got to pick something up," Sam replied, sounding dodgy. "I'll be back."

"Wait," John said. "Sam, I promise. I won't hunt this demon. Not until we know Dean's ok."

Sam nodded. Then he turned again and walked out the door. Lynn ran after him, not even acknowledging John or her sister. She caught up to him at the end of the hall. "Sam," she called, darting in front of him. He stopped short and blinked at her. "What are you doing? What is this thing you need to pick up?"

Maybe she was being nosy, but Lynn couldn't help herself. Everything was falling apart, and she didn't trust Sam not to do something crazy.

"Nothing. Don't worry; I'll be back soon."

"Sam," she insisted, narrowing her eyes and blocking his way.

He sighed. "Ouija board."

There was a long silence. Lynn raised her eyebrow. "Ouija board?" she asked skeptically.

Sam sighed again, looking harassed. "Well, I've got to find some way to communicate with him! In case you haven't noticed, we're running low on options here."

Lynn pursed her lips and said nothing. "What?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing."

"No, you have something to say. What is it?"

"I just…" Lynn sighed too. "Sam, I know you want to help your brother, but… you know, not everything is supernatural."

He frowned at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just… don't want you to get your hopes up."

Sam glared at her. "He's here, Lynn. I felt him. Jayne felt him!"

Lynn shook her head. "I know, but… I mean, you two don't really know what you felt. It's just that…"

"Stop," Sam cut her off. "I know you're trying to help, but I can't listen to this. I know Dean is here, somewhere, trying to communicate with us, and I have to let him. I have to help him; he has to get better. So just… stop."

Then he brushed past her and practically ran for the exit.

Lynn watched him go, heaving another heavy sigh. She felt useless; she felt helpless. She wanted to do something – she understood why Sam was trying so hard to do something too. But this wasn't a hunt; this was Dean, in the hospital. This was Nebraska all over again, and she had a feeling someone else was going to be seriously hurt – possibly dead – once it was all over.

"Where's he rushing off to?"

Lynn turned at the sound of her brother's voice and found both him and Jayne standing behind her. She shrugged. "He's grabbing something… going to try communicating with Dean, I guess. Doesn't matter."

Jayne cocked an eyebrow. "Matters a little."

Lynn took a deep breath, trying not to make the same mistake twice. "I know you and Sam think you felt Dean's… presence…"

"Don't say it like that," Jayne interrupted. "All skeptic like."

Steve snorted. "Says the resident skeptic."

"Shut it," she snapped. "I know what I felt. He's around here somewhere, somehow… look, whatever. We've got to do something. Help him wake up."

Lynn stared at her sister, not sure what to say to that. Steve was staring at Jayne too, his eyes hard and his lips tight. "When did you get like this?" he asked her.

Jayne frowned. "Like what?"

"Like… I don't know. So wrapped up in this Winchester guy that… that you can't see the bigger picture."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jayne retorted. "What bigger picture?"

Steve snorted again. "Exactly."

Jayne took a step forward, looking pissed. Lynn intervened. "Jayne, I think Steve's just trying to point out that… you know… maybe your friendship with Dean is kind of… blinding you to what's really going on."

"I get it," Jayne returned. "You don't believe I really felt anything. But you believe Sam? Because he's the psychic or whatever?"

"Jayne," Lynn said gently. "Sam does have psychic powers. You don't."

"So you believe him but not me?"

"I didn't say I believed him!"

There was a long silence. Lynn immediately regretted her outburst, swallowing and biting her lower lip. She tore her eyes from Jayne, who was glowering at her, gray eyes burning. Lynn studied the floor and took a deep breath, trying to backtrack. "I was just saying that…"

"That you don't believe either of us," Jayne cut her off. "That you think what I felt and what Sam felt is part of some elaborate stages of grief bullshit."

Lynn stared at her, silent, helpless in the face of Jayne's accusation.

Jayne shrugged. "Whatever. Doesn't matter. Sam and I will help him. You two just… stand there. Play skeptic."

Then she turned her back on both of them and headed down the hall, presumably back towards Dean's room. Lynn heaved a sigh, watching her go.

"This sucks," Steve announced.

She nodded. "I know."

"I don't think you do. This sucks, all of this Winchester drama. You and Jayne and the three of them… I don't like what I see."

It was Lynn's turn to frown incredulously at her little brother. "What are you talking about?"

He scoffed. "Seriously? You don't see it? Jayne and her so-called friendship with that Dean guy… well, just look at her! Sitting bedside vigil, playing Demi Moore to his Patrick Swayze… it's not Jayne, Lynn! This isn't her!"

She swallowed at his outburst. On the one hand, he had a point. Jayne was not anybody's Demi Moore. And yet… but he was wrong too. He had to be. No matter what she said or which front she was putting on, Jayne cared about the people in her life. She'd sit bedside vigil… if it were her, if it were Steve… Lynn thought she would… Was this so hard to believe? Was Jayne actually different? Or was Steve just out of touch? After all, months of separation can do that to a person.

Steve wasn't done yet. "And then there's you and Sam."

Lynn frowned again. "What about me and Sam?"

"Don't you get sick of chasing after him every time the guy storms out of a room? Let's face it; he does it a lot."

She scoffed. "Well, you storm out of our lives fairly often, so if I were you, I wouldn't judge!"

"Oh, I see," Steve retorted. "So just because I've made some bad calls recently, I can't call bullshit on anybody else? The guy's a dick to you, Lynn!"

There was a long silence. Lynn gawked at him, wanting to argue but finding she didn't have any valid points. Steve shrugged his shoulders, tossing out his arms in a show of frustration. "I don't get it! I don't get the appeal! I don't understand why you two can't just walk away!"

"Well, you wouldn't," Lynn returned in a low voice, but as true as the retort was, it still felt hollow.

Steve ignored the allusion to all the times he'd bailed and kept right on making his point. "All these guys seem to do is drag my sisters down. I don't like it, Lynn! I don't like them, and I don't like what they've turned the two of you into!"

"And what's that?"

He seemed to relent a bit – but only a bit. His voice was hushed. "Doormats."

Again, there was a long, tense silence. Lynn stared at him, her mouth hanging open, and slowly shook her head. Steve stared back, his mouth set in a firm line, his eyes hard. He wasn't backing down.

"Well," Lynn finally replied. "As usual, I appreciate your biting honesty."

His eyes softened slightly. "Lynn," he began. "I just meant…"

"I got your meaning, loud and clear," she interrupted. Then she turned away and started to walk.

"Where are you going?" he called after her, clearly annoyed.

"Doormat, remember? If you'll excuse me, I have to go lay down in the emergency room and let people walk all over me."

He sighed harshly. "Lynn, come on!"

She ignored his shout and kept right on walking. She didn't know where she was going, or what she was going to do, or even exactly what she felt. Her brother's words had irritated her; she was inarguably angry with him. But there was something else turning her stomach; something else was making her walk away.

It was the fear that he might be right.

"You know, I got to say, I'm impressed," Dean announced as he ambled down the hospital hallway with his newfound ghost friend. Ever since the big reveal back at Tessa's hospital room, the two of them had been walking the halls together, talking about basically nothing.

"With what?" Tessa asked, swinging her arms.

"You," Dean replied. "Most people in your spot would be Jell-O right now, but you're taking this pretty well. Maybe a little better than me."

They wandered into the stairwell. Tessa stopped, turning to face him and shrugging her shoulders. "Don't get me wrong – at first, I was pretty freaked, but… now I don't know. Maybe I'm dealing."

He frowned. "So you're ok with dying?"

She snorted. "No, of course not. I just think… whatever's going to happen is going to happen. It's out of my control. It's just… fate."

Dean frowned harder, studying her as she spoke. He shook his head. "That's crap."

Tessa frowned this time.

"You always have a choice," Dean went on. "You can either roll over and die, or you can fight, no matter what…"

He was interrupted by the hospital PA system paging a doctor to a nearby room. Dean turned at the sound of running feet, seeing nurses and interns rushing down the hallway. Immediately, he began to chase after them.

"Dean, where are you going?" Tessa called.

"Just wait here!" he returned, before running down the corridor, on the heels of the nurses and the doctor. He jogged a little ways before coming to the room in question and turning into the doorway. Dean froze at the entrance, staring at the scene. A small girl was lying in the hospital bed, the machines around her head beeping like crazy. Nurses surrounded her, and the doctor was shouting out orders, trying to save the little girl's life.

Floating above the child was the white, flimsy-robed specter from earlier, reaching out its long fingers towards the little girl.

"Get away from her!" Dean bellowed, charging into the room. Before he reached the child's bedside, the specter vanished.

The machines were still beeping, and the little girl lay still in her bed. "All right," the doctor announced. "Let's call it."

"Time of death," one of the nurses said, eyes on her wristwatch. "5:11 pm."

"At least she's not suffering anymore," another nurse added quietly.

Dean turned away from the bed, frowning. Something was not quite right about this encounter – something was very, very off. He was beginning to suspect the specter was not actually a specter; it was something much more dangerous – much more natural – and much harder to get rid of. His head spinning and his stomach revolting against the rest of his body, Dean rushed out of the room in a panic, headed straight for his own hospital room, hoping to make contact again with somebody – anybody.

He had the distinct feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was completely screwed.

When Jayne reentered Dean's hospital room, she was met with a shocking silence that was a stark contrast to the chaos of less than an hour ago. It was so uncomfortably different that for a moment, she found herself unable to cross the threshold. Instead, she lurked in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, and folded her arms across her chest. With her head tilted against the doorframe, she stared silently at Dean's still, pale figure.

She stood like that for a long time, not saying a word, watching his chest rise and fall. Finally, she found her voice.

"So… everyone but Sam and maybe your dad thinks I'm crazy," she announced.

Silence.

Jayne stared at his body, waiting… for what, she wasn't entirely sure. Nothing happened.

"Well, I don't care," she told him. "I know what happened in here."

More silence greeted her proclamation. She shook her head slightly, staring at him. "You know," she said almost conversationally. "A little while ago, my friend Deedee? She gave me this summoning ritual."

Silence. No sound except the beeping of the machines. No gust of wind to blow back the curtains. No ghostly fingertips touching her skin.

"I can still remember it," she went on. "Black cat bone, graveyard dirt, a portrait of yourself… or a beloved object. You know, people didn't always have self portraits lying around back in the day."

She paused, waiting for something – anything. She got nothing.

"So you take all this crap and you shove it in a box and then you bury it at a crossroads, right smack dab in the middle. And that's when the crossroads demon appears."

Was it her imagination? Was she losing it, just the way Lynn and Steve seemed to think she was? Jayne could swear the air in the room had shifted – that something cold and angry was lurking around in there.

"I'm guessing you'd know about the legend of Robert Johnson?" she asked Dean's comatose body. "So you'd know exactly what goes on at the crossroads?"

She felt a prickle at the base of her neck. She could swear a slight breeze had just blown by her face.

"The crossroads are where deals are made," she said.

She waited. Again, she got nothing.

"Maybe popping back into your body isn't that easy," she allowed. "Maybe you can't just make yourself wake up. I don't know. I just… can't let you go without a fight."

She shoved herself off the doorjamb and took a few steps into the hospital room. Her eyes traveled over Dean's body and his bed, and all the machines hooked up to him. Her chair from earlier was still sitting next to the bed. "You need to figure out how to wake up soon," she told him, her eyes on his face. "Because if you make me wait any longer, I'm not sure I can resist finding myself a crossroads and striking up a deal."

Bam!

The chair slid across the room, slammed into the wall opposite Dean's bed, and toppled over with a clank! Jayne stared at the chair for a moment, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"Thought you might say that."

"Jayne?"

She whirled at the sound of her name, finding Lynn standing in the doorway. Her sister was frowning at the chair. "Um… what happened?" she asked.

Jayne shrugged. "I'd say a ghost did it, but you'd probably just think I was losing my marbles again."

Lynn sighed. "Jaynie… look, I didn't mean…"

But Lynn never explained what it was she didn't mean. At that moment, Sam burst into the room, a brown paper bag tucked under his arm. "Hey," he greeted them breathlessly.

"Hey," Lynn breathed back, shoving her hands awkwardly into her jeans pockets.

Jayne looked from Sam to Lynn and back again, rolling her eyes. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh, uh…" he cleared his throat, suddenly looking embarrassed. As Jayne watched incredulously, Sam pulled, of all things, a freaking Ouija board out of the bag and held it up so she could see it.

Jayne arched her eyebrow and snorted. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Sam raised his brows at her. "I thought you wanted to contact him."

"Of course I do."

"So… you got any better ideas?"

Did she have any better ideas to contact her comatose best friend with whom she was apparently in love other than using Sam's ridiculous Ouija board? Well, she wished she did, and the fact that she didn't made her feel like a serious loser, but… it was what it was.

She sighed harshly, rolling her eyes again. "Damn it."

Sam smirked, and then glanced around the room. "Dean?" he called.

The only response was the beep!beep!beep! of the machines. Jayne shared a look with Lynn, who shrugged, and then she turned her eyes back on Dean. Sam heaved a sigh. "Look," the youngest Winchester announced. "We think maybe you're around, and… if you are? Don't make fun of me for this."

Jayne watched him carry the Ouija board over to the foot of Dean's bed and lay it flat on the ground. He sat down cross-legged in front of the thing and placed his hands on the planchette. Then he glanced over his shoulder at her and Lynn. "Are you two in on this or not?"

Lynn darted a skeptical glance at Jayne, who took a deep breath and marched over to the board. "Fine," she said, sitting next to him and putting her fingers on the planchette as well.

Sam looked at Lynn again. Lynn rolled her eyes and sighed, and then jogged over to their little circle, taking a seat on Sam's left and placing her hands with theirs. Once everyone was settled on the floor, Sam took a deep breath and called out, "Dean? Are you here?"

He was using this weird, deep, mystical-medium-having-a-séance voice, and Jayne snorted involuntarily, choking back a chuckle. Sam glared at her out of the corner of his eye, and she immediately sobered. As ridiculous as this whole thing was, it was the means to a very serious end.

The planchette began to move.

Jayne stiffened and her sister gasped in surprise. "Who's doing that?" Lynn demanded.

"Dean," Sam whispered excitedly.

Lynn looked unconvinced, but Jayne's eyes were focused on the planchette, following its path along the tan colored Ouija board. Her stomach leapt into her throat when the planchette came to a stop, the tiny round window hovering over the word "Yes."

She let loose a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Sam laughed out loud. "It's good to hear from you, man!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "It hasn't been the same without you, Dean."

That was the understatement of the millennium. Jayne looked back down at the board and jumped when the planchette started moving again. "Dean," Sam frowned, watching the planchette move too. "What?"

"This is starting to creep me out," Lynn whispered.

The little window stopped over the H. Jayne frowned as it then moved on to U, and finally N. "Hunt," she said suddenly, feeling like a Wheel of Fortune contestant. "What do you mean, hunt? Are you hunting?"

The planchette jerked itself towards the "Yes" again.

"Dean, is it in the hospital?" Sam demanded. "What you're hunting? Do you know what it is?"

The planchette hovered over the "Yes" and didn't move. Jayne swallowed, hard. "What is it?" Sam asked again.

Slowly, Jayne felt the planchette sliding back towards the letters: R… E… A… P…

Her breath caught in her chest. She blinked, suddenly, furiously, as her eyes began to sting. "Reaper," Sam murmured beside her. Jayne swallowed again. "Dean," Sam pressed. "Is it after you?"

Her throat was dry, and her eyes were huge. Jayne watched with horror, a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach, as the planchette moved back towards the corner of the board.

Yes.

She shook her head, staring at that awful little yes. She could feel Lynn staring at her, but she refused to look up from the board. "If it's here naturally," Sam murmured, the dread evident in his voice. "There's no way to stop it."

The last thing Jayne wanted to hear was Sam stating the obvious. She glared at the board. Her fingers were still sitting on the planchette. "Man," Sam whispered. "You're…"

Dying. That's what Dean was; he was dying. Jayne blinked furiously, her mind racing as she desperately tried to think up solutions.

"No," Sam said. "No, um… there's got to be a way."

His hands went up to his mouth, and then he scrambled up on his feet. "Sam?" Lynn asked in concern. Jayne didn't even spare him a glance.

"There's got to be a way," Sam repeated himself, turning in a circle and then stumbling towards the door. "Dad will know what to do."

"Wait!" Lynn called, standing up too. "Sam, I…" She trailed off desperately, turning to Jayne. "Jaynie, you… are you…"

"I'm fine," Jayne said evenly, still refusing to look up from the Ouija board. "Go check on Sam."

"No!" Lynn snapped. "I… you're not fine."

She tore her eyes away from the evil "yes," and looked at Lynn instead. Her sister was standing, bent at the waist, her dark eyes boring into Jayne's, full of concern. Jayne forced a small smile.

"Go," she insisted. "Unless you want Sam to do something completely idiotic."

Lynn stared at her, clearly torn. But Jayne's little remark had gotten to her. After a minute, Lynn made a face and stomped her foot in aggravation. "Damn it!" she exclaimed.

She ran for the door, but froze at the threshold to level a warning finger in Jayne's direction. "I will be right back!" Lynn informed her. Then she disappeared down the hall.

Jayne looked back down at the Ouija board. Her fingers hadn't moved from the planchette. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I'm not going to let this happen. I'm going to stop this."

The planchette jerked under her fingers, this time gliding to the other corner of the board and stopping on the "No."

"Yes," Jayne insisted. "I'm not letting you die. I'm going to fix it."

Again, the planchette moved, this time headed back for the letters. As she watched, it began spelling out a word: D… O… N… T…

She let go of the planchette and angrily flipped the board over. It landed facedown, and the planchette skidded off into a corner of the room. Silence followed her small tantrum, and she stared at the far wall, not really seeing it, a fresh batch of tears rolling down her face as she spat out an answer to Dean's request.

"I'm not making any promises."

Sam tore down the hospital corridor, his stomach twisting in fear. He was shaking with desperation, determined to do something about this. Dean could not die. That was all there was to it. Reaper or no reaper, Sam refused to say goodbye to his brother. It was not Dean's time to go.

"Dad!" he shouted, flying into his father's room.

He stopped short at the sight of his father's empty bed. Swallowing, Sam stood still in the room, at the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed on the spot where John Winchester used to be. The man was gone. His father was gone – again. Why now? Why was it always when they needed him most?

"Sam!"

He whirled at Lynn's voice. She rushed into the room, and then she froze too, frowning down at the empty bed.

"He's gone," Sam informed her unnecessarily. His eyes were huge and wet and desperate as he fixed them on hers, pleading for a solution. "He's gone. Why is he always gone?"

Lynn shook her head slowly, directing a sad, small look in his direction. "Oh, Sam."

Well, she was no help at all. Sam turned his back on her immediately and started ripping apart the hospital room.

"Sam!" Lynn exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Saving Dean!"

He could feel her gawking at him, but for once she had nothing to say. Sam carried on like she wasn't there, still tearing apart the room. Blankets and pillows landed on the floor; the wheels of the bed skidded on the linoleum when he gave the thing a shove. Sam unzipped the duffel bag he'd brought in from the car and started yanking things out and throwing them over his shoulder.

The Colt was gone – of course the Colt was gone. John was gone, so the Colt would be too. Sam didn't have time to be angry, though. He kept rifling through the bag, searching for anything at all that might help Dean. Lynn lingered in the doorway, watching him with huge eyes, as though she was afraid he might go all suicidal or something.

He found it at the bottom of the bag – his father's weathered, leather-bound journal. Snatching it up, he rushed back out of the room, brushing past Lynn as he did so. He could hear her boots clacking on the linoleum behind him as she followed down the hall. Sam didn't stop – didn't even glance at her. He just kept running down the corridor until he reached Dean's room.

Jayne had picked up the Ouija board and righted the chair and now she was sitting by Dean's bed, staring at him. When Sam entered the room, she looked up at him hopefully, rising out of her seat.

"Dad wasn't in his room," he announced, sitting on the side of the bed and speaking to Dean. Jayne frowned at him, slowly lowering herself back into the chair. "But I got Dad's journal, so who knows? Maybe there's something in here."

Lynn appeared in the doorway. She leaned against the jamb and stared at him. Jayne was staring at him too. Sam just kept flipping through the pages of the journal, searching for the section on reapers. When he finally found it, he settled in to read the few pages dedicated to the creatures.

"There's not going to be anything in there," Jayne spoke up hoarsely. "We can't kill death." Sam ignored her. "Sam," she insisted. "We need a different plan."

"Like what?" he snapped.

"Deedee Hannigan gave me a summoning ritual."

"Got one of those already, thanks."

"It's not just any summoning ritual," Jayne retorted. "It's for the Crossroads demon."

"No," Lynn spoke up instantly. "Absolutely not."

Sam looked up from the journal, suddenly interested. "Crossroads demon?" he asked.

"It's not an option," Lynn returned. "We're not making deals with a demon."

"So you're talking about the Crossroads legend?" Sam asked, frowning. "And you have the summoning ritual?"

He shouldn't feel a surge of hope coursing through his body, but Sam did. Jayne met his eyes over Dean's bed and slowly nodded. Sam swallowed, trying not to get too excited. "But in the legend…"

"The price of your deal is always your soul?" Lynn interrupted scathingly. "I'm telling you both this is not going to happen."

"We don't have to sell our souls," Jayne replied. "I mean… yeah, demons seem real intent on getting those, but… come on. There's got be bigger, better prizes out there. Human souls are just… well, people suck."

"Oh, really?" Lynn retorted, raising her eyebrow. "And exactly what are these bigger, better prizes?"

Jayne took a deep breath, glancing at the floor. Sam frowned at her, and she slowly lifted her head to stare at both him and her sister. "We have the Colt."

Lynn scoffed by the door. "Seriously, think about it!" Jayne insisted. "It's a demon killing gun! What demon wouldn't want to get their hands on that?"

Sam frowned, mulling over the suggestion. "It's too risky," Lynn retorted. "Look, I know you two want to save Dean."

"We are going to save Dean."

"Right. Got that. Look… and for the record I am totally against this… but I've been thinking about Sue Ann Le Grange from back in Nebraska, and…"

"Are you joking?" Jayne cut her sister off. "Are you really about to suggest a reaper binding spell? We're not trading lives for lives here, Lynn! Dean would flip the fuck out once he woke up!"

Lynn took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. "I agree. Remember? Totally against this. But we don't know exactly what Sue Ann did to keep the reaper away from her husband. When she started trading lives for lives, that was a whole other ball game. But I looked through those newspaper clippings myself, I saw the people Sue Ann offed in the name of religion or whatever. I couldn't find a corresponding death to match up with Roy's miraculous recovery. What if we bound the reaper that was after Dean, and the binding spell itself was enough?"

"We don't know that's how it will be!" Jayne snapped. "I'm not risking it."

"But you'll risk dealing with a Crossroads demon?"

"Hey, you're the one who wants to put a leash on a freaking reaper! And somehow, my crossroads plan is the stupid, reckless one? I don't think so!"

"They are all stupid, reckless, horrible plans," Lynn returned, her voice low and too calm. "I am against all of them. All I'm trying to do right now is keep you from finding yourself at a crossroads and ending up selling your soul to some demon like the damned fool idiot you can really, really be sometimes."

Sam closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying not to hear their arguing. He couldn't deal with it right then. All he wanted to do was save his brother, but he couldn't think of anything – he couldn't find anything. And Jayne and Lynn's plans? Well, he was desperate enough to try one, but he couldn't deny that they both sucked.

Sighing harshly, Sam opened his eyes and stared down at Dean, still lying comatose in the hospital bed. "We have to do something," he announced, his eyes fixed on his older brother. "It doesn't really matter what."

There was a long silence. He could feel both stepsisters staring at him as he stared at Dean. "We are going to do something," Jayne said after a while. "So you pick, Sam. Which stupid, reckless, horrible plan are we going to try?"

He smirked slightly. "My dad disappeared on us."

Jayne's mouth twitched and Sam braced himself for her inevitable, disparaging comment about John Winchester. It never came. Jayne remained silent, waiting.

"He took the Colt," Sam breathed.

Jayne's shoulders slumped. He watched her deflate, all the air huffing out of her body. Lynn shook her head silently over by the door.

The three of them stood in the hospital room, staring at Dean's body, not saying a word. Sam could feel the helplessness returning. He didn't know what to do; he didn't know how to help his brother. His stomach lurched sickeningly. Sam was all out of solutions, and judging by the silence in the hospital room, he'd bet Lynn and Jayne were coming up empty too.

Dean really was going to die.

Dean hadn't stuck around his room long after the mishap with the Ouija board.

First, Jayne had come in there, right when he was panicking about seeing the reaper, and started rambling on about summoning rituals and crossroads demons and making deals. He'd seen red – gotten so angry he'd accidentally made contact with the real world again, and thrown a chair into the wall of the hospital room.

Which was exactly the reaction she'd been hoping for apparently. What the hell was she trying to do, piss him off back into his body?

Then Sam had come in with the Ouija board – finally someone with a plan he could get behind. Dean had been skeptical at first, made a few slumber party jokes, but to his amazement the board had worked and he'd been able to communicate with Sam, Jayne and Lynn.

Until Sam had stormed out of the hospital room to get their father – so determined that John Winchester would know how to stop a reaper – and Lynn had chased after him. Then Dean had tried to tell Jayne to stay the hell away from the crossroads, but apparently she wasn't in the mood to be lectured. She'd flipped the Ouija board over like a spoiled child who was losing at Monopoly.

Pain in the ass. Why did he have feelings for her again?

The answer to that was obvious, but Dean wasn't in the mood to think about it. He'd leaned against the window, watching Jayne clean up the Ouija board and the chair he'd tossed across the room.

Sam and Lynn had come back, sans Dean's father, but in possession of his father's journal. They'd all gotten down to business, reading through the journal in hopes of finding a solution.

"Thanks for not giving up on me," he'd said.

But then he'd seen the section of the journal that talked about reapers. He'd read the part about reapers altering reality around their victims.

That's when he'd seen red a second time and gone storming out of the room.

When he reached Tessa's dark hospital room, he found the young woman sitting on the edge of her empty bed, in the shadows and all alone. There was no body, there were no beeping machines, and there was no mourning mother. She was no longer wearing her hospital clothes; instead, she'd changed into jeans and a tank top. When he appeared in the doorway, she smiled almost sadly at him.

"Hi, Dean," she said, sounding as though she knew exactly why he'd come.

"You know, you read the most interesting things," he announced, smirking as he entered the room. "For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception?" he snorted bitterly. "I sure didn't."

Tessa watched him pace the room, still sitting calmly on the edge of the bed. "Basically, they can make themselves appear however they want," he went on loudly. "Like say… a pretty girl."

She stared at him evenly. He glared back. "You're much prettier than the last reaper I met," he informed her.

"I was wondering when you'd figure it out," she replied.

He shook his head. "I should have known. That whole accepting fate rap of yours was far too laid back for a dead girl. But you know… the mother and the body? I'm still trying to figure that one out."

She shrugged. "It's my sandbox," Tessa replied gently. "I can make you see whatever I want."

"So what? Is this like a turn on for you?" he snapped. "Toying with me?"

"You didn't give me much choice," Tessa returned. "You saw my true form and you flipped out. Kind of hurts a girl's feelings."

He stared at her. She smiled slightly. "This was the only way I could get you to talk to me."

"Ok, fine," he bit back. "We're talking. What the hell do you want to talk about?"

She smiled softly at him again, rising slowly off the bed. "How death is nothing to fear." Her hand rested itself on her cheek, and Dean gasped. She was cold, and her touch froze him all the way through.

"It's your time to go, Dean. You're living on borrowed time already."

The scene in Dean's hospital room could have gone better, Lynn reflected ruefully as she leaned on the wall in the waiting room, sipping a cup of coffee. The scene in the hallway with her brother could have sucked less too. Sighing, she stared out the waiting room window, not really seeing the hospital landscaping that sat on the other side. She was at a loss for what to do.

That whole reaper-binding spell she'd been trying to pitch back there? She was glad beyond relief that no one had gone for it. The last thing Lynn wanted to do was pull a Sue Ann. Still, she'd had to suggest it. She'd had to give Jayne another option besides that stupid crossroads bullshit.

But now the Colt was gone, and Lynn began to worry again. Jayne's plan had hinged on their possession of that gun, and with the gun gone…

Lynn swallowed, hard. She didn't want Dean to die. But she couldn't deny that Dean's death was the most natural end to this horrific situation. They couldn't change the outcome without screwing something else up. Lynn just… she wasn't Sam, and she wasn't Jayne, and as much as she legitimately liked and cared about Dean, she wasn't about to break all kinds of crazy rules to bring him back from the dead.

She really hoped that Sam and Jayne wouldn't either.

"Hey."

Lynn looked up at the sound of her brother's voice, finding him standing at her side. He looked sheepish, and his eyes were trained on the floor. She smiled slightly at him. "Hey," she repeated.

Steve squinted up at her. "Look, about earlier…"

"You're sorry?"

He nodded. Lynn smiled again. "Yeah," she agreed. "Me too."

Silence followed their exchange. Steve took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said again. "But… I think I had a point."

Lynn pursed her lips and bit back a vicious retort. "That being said," Steve went on. "I'm going to head out."

She blinked at him. "Wait… you're leaving?"

"I came here to hunt a demon, Lynn. We're hanging out at a hospital. I feel for you and Jaynie, but… the Winchesters aren't exactly my pals."

Lynn stared at him, slowly shaking her head. "So… you're just going to abandon your sister when she needs you?"

Steve sighed, raising his eyebrow at her. "I'm not abandoning you, Lynn. I'm just getting back on the road."

"I wasn't talking about me."

There was a long silence. The two of them stared at one another, Steve managing to look both ashamed of himself and yet completely determined. Lynn just stared back at him, not sure whether she was surprised or pissed or if she'd actually been expecting this all along.

"Why do you have to leave now?" she asked.

He stared at her a moment longer. Then he shrugged. "I told you; I don't like what I see."

"So the solution is to just not see it?"

"I don't know. Are you two going to listen to me?"

Lynn had nothing to say to that. She just stared at him again, silent. He nodded, smirking slightly. "Right," he murmured. "See?"

"You can't always be telling me this stuff, you know," she pointed out. "You haven't said a word to Jayne about all the crap you flung at me today."

He shrugged. "Her friend… boyfriend… whatever the hell he is… the guy's dying. I'm not getting on her case today."

Lynn nodded slowly, staring at him again. Steve sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. "I told you how I feel," he went on. "You two are getting sucked into this idiotic little Winchester doom spiral, and… I'm sorry. I can't stick around and watch."

Winchester doom spiral. She almost laughed, except it wasn't really all that funny. As much as she preferred having Sam and Dean in her life to not having them, she couldn't deny that meeting the two brothers marked the beginning of the crap-fest that had recently been her life. Yet, she didn't blame them for it. The more she thought about it, the less she believed the doom spiral, as her brother called it, had anything to do with Sam or Dean. In fact, she was almost positive that she and Jayne would have gotten sucked into said doom spiral even if they'd never met the Winchesters at all.

She stared at Steve. He could run away, she decided, but he was still part of this doom spiral whether he liked it or not.

"All right," she said softly, forcing a smile for him. "Be safe, kay?"

He forced a smile too. "Back at you."

They exchanged a short hug, and then Lynn pulled back and slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't forget to call," she scolded him.

Steve nodded and rolled his eyes. "All right, all right."

"Bye, Steve."

"Bye, sis."

He turned away then and headed down the hall – away from the exit, she noted. She figured he planned on saying goodbye to Jayne in person, which was better than she'd expected. Lynn sighed, leaning against the waiting room wall again.

She was relatively positive that even if Dean managed to pull through this latest reaper mishap, things were going to get worse before they got better.

"Dean? Are you here?"

Sam stood at his brother's bedside, alone with him in the hospital room at last. He stared down at Dean's body, waiting for any sort of sign. None came. His question was answered only by the beeping of the machines.

He looked around the room. "I couldn't find anything in the book," he admitted. "Dad took the Colt. No one has a plan that doesn't come with serious collateral damage. Dean… I don't know how to help you. But I'll keep trying, all right? As long as you keep fighting."

Sam paused a moment, listening and waiting. Nothing happened. He forced a chuckle. "I mean, come on. You can't leave me alone with Dad. We'll kill each other; you know that."

Still nothing. He sighed, staring at his brother, breathing heavily. His eyes began to water. "Dean, you got to hold on," he pleaded. "You can't give in, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again."

It was too quiet in the room. Sam couldn't feel anything off, couldn't feel anything remotely Dean-like. He stood next to the bed, still staring down at his brother, occasionally glancing around the too cold, too silent, too empty room.

"Dean?" he asked again. "Can you hear me?"

All he got in response was the beeping of the machines.

Dean was still standing in that hospital room, and Tessa was still there too, lurking behind him, her eyes fixed on his back. He stared out the window, looking into the hospital corridor, shaking his head. "Look," he tried to reason with the reaper. "I'm sure you've heard this before, but you've got to make an exception. You've got to cut me a break."

"Stage three: bargaining."

Dean turned away from the window, moving towards Tessa. She watched him steadily, standing perfectly still. "I'm serious," he returned. "My family's in danger. You see, we're kind of in the middle of this… war... and they need me."

Tessa's voice was soft, but it held a tone of finality. "The fight is over."

"No, it isn't," he argued.

"It is for you."

He stood still and silent, gawking at her. "Dean," she murmured sympathetically. "You're not the first soldier I've plucked from the field. They all feel the same. They can't leave. Victory hangs in the balance. But they're wrong. The battle goes on without them."

"But my brother," Dean protested. "He could die without me."

Tessa shrugged. "Maybe he will. Maybe he won't. Nothing you can do about it."

The words hit home, and Dean flinched, his lip beginning to tremble. Wild-eyed, he turned away from her. She watched him with those big, dark, never wavering eyes of hers. "It's an honorable death," she assured him. "A warrior's death."

"I think I'll pass on the seventy-two virgins, thanks. I'm not that into prude chicks anyway."

Her smile was so pitying that it physically hurt to see it directed his way. "That's funny," she said. "You're very cute."

"There's no such thing as an honorable death," he snapped at her. "My corpse is going to rot in the ground, and all the people I care about are going to die!"

She just looked at him. Dean shook his head. "No," he said. "I'm not going with you. I don't care what you do."

"Well," Tessa nodded. "Like you said, there's always a choice. I can't make you come with me. But you're not getting back in your body, and that's just facts. So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years, disembodied, scared, and over the decades it will probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent."

"What are you saying?"

"Dean," she said, shaking her head again. "How do you think angry spirits are born? They can't let go, and they can't move on. And you're about to become one. The same thing you hunt."

The reality of his situation finally began to sink in. Slowly, Dean sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, staring at the floor. Tessa watched him for a brief moment, and then she crossed the room, sitting down beside him. He could feel her cold fingers on the back of his neck, soothing him. "It's time to leave the pain behind you," she murmured.

"And go where?" he retorted.

"Sorry," she replied. "I can't give away the big punch line."

Dean sat still and silent, glaring at the floor. Slowly, Tessa removed her hand from his back. "Moment of truth," she said. "No changing your mind later. So what's it going to be?"

He looked at her over his shoulder. She was still staring at him. It was surprising to him, how empathetic she could seem, when everything she said was so final. He never expected empathy from death.

Before he could speak, before he could make a decision, the lights began to flicker. Dean frowned, and Tessa glanced around them, seemingly on edge. He stood up quickly, moving away from her. "What are you doing that for?"

She shook her head, frowning back. "I'm not doing it."

Dean didn't entirely believe her – at first. But then the black smoke seeped into the room through the vent at the base of the wall.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed.

"No!" Tessa shrieked at the smoke. "You can't do this! Get away!"

"What's happening?"

Dean gaped at the cloud of black smoke, still backing away. As he watched, horrified, the smoke funneled directly into Tessa's mouth. She shrieked as the smoke choked her. Dean stood still, shocked, having no idea what to do, and no ability to do anything but watch.

The smoke vanished. Tessa whirled around. Her eyes were yellow.

"Today's your lucky day, kid," she rasped.

Then she put her hand on his forehead, and everything went black.

Jayne marched down the hallway, back towards Dean's room. She'd tried to give Sam some alone time with his brother, but not being in Dean's room made her anxious. It didn't make any sense, but this tiny part of her seemed to think that if she let Dean out of her sight for too long, he'd vanish.

It was stupid and pathetic, but whatever. She couldn't be bothered to care. Jayne was almost to the hospital room when her little brother came around the corner, stopping directly in front of her. They blinked at one another in surprise. "Whoa," she said. "Uh… hey."

Steve nodded, shoving his hands awkwardly into his coat pockets. "Hey," he replied. "Um… I was looking for you."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Well… I'm heading out, actually. I just… wanted to say goodbye."

Jayne blinked at him for a moment, letting the words sink in. "You're leaving."

He winced. "Yeah."

It made sense, actually. There was nothing for him here – well, nothing except his sisters. Jayne took a deep breath and shrugged. "Ok. Um… thanks for being here."

He nodded. "Call if you need anything."

"Of course."

She wouldn't. Not unless it was about the demon, or Lynn.

Steve hugged her, and Jayne pulled him in close, struggling with the side of her that was suddenly very pissed at him. Then they pulled apart and Jayne forced a smile for him.

"See you around, kid."

He smirked. "See you, Jaynie."

Her brother turned and walked away. She watched him go. Jayne wasn't happy about him leaving, but if she was being perfectly honest, it didn't hurt as much as usual. She waited until he disappeared around the corner, and then she ducked into Dean's room.

"How is he?" she asked Sam. He was standing on the other side of Dean's bed, staring down at his brother.

Sam shrugged. "Same."

The two of them stood there silently for a moment, both staring at Dean. "When my dad gets back," Sam whispered. "Maybe we can…"

"Right," Jayne nodded. "It's an idea."

Silence followed their short exchange.

Sam sighed suddenly. "Jayne, I've been thinking, and…"

He never finished telling her what he'd been thinking. Suddenly, Dean's machine started beeping like haywire. Jayne tensed up, jolting forward. Sam jumped. "What the hell?" Jayne breathed.

"Oh my god," Sam exclaimed.

Dean sat straight up in bed, gasping for air. The tube fell from his lips, and he started coughing. Jayne sucked in a harsh, surprised breath, clasping her hands over her mouth. "Dean!" Sam exclaimed. Jayne backed away from the bed, wide-eyed.

"Help!" Sam roared out the door. "I need help!"

Dean's eyes darted around the room as he thrashed around in the bed, choking on his oxygen. Jayne swallowed, ducking back to avoid the sudden onslaught of nurses that had come rushing in to help.

He'd woken up on his own.

She definitely hadn't expected that.

Something was very, very wrong.

Dean was sitting up in bed, still trying to understand what had happened. The doctor was hovering over him, going over his vitals, and explaining his condition to his brother. Sam was standing beside him, looking a little too excited for Dean's tastes.

"I can't explain it," the doctor was saying. "The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You got some kind of angel watching over you."

Dean nodded uncomfortably at the man. "Thanks doc."

He was positive this wasn't the work of any angel.

The doctor turned and left the room. Dean frowned up at Sam, who was still standing at his bedside. Lynn had taken up vigil on the opposite side of the bed, and Jayne was hiding over on the wall, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes on the floor.

"You said a reaper was after me?" he asked them.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"How'd I ditch it?"

"You got me."

Dean looked away, his eyebrows stitched together, trying his damndest to remember. He felt like it was important – that he was missing an important piece of the puzzle – several important pieces. There was something – lots of things, actually – that he needed to remember, but no matter how hard he strained his brain, he kept coming up blank.

"You really don't remember anything?" Sam asked.

He shook his head. "No… except this pit in my stomach. Sam, something's wrong."

The pit was still there, too. Dean didn't understand what was wrong; he just knew something was. All of a sudden he felt very motherly fingers caress his hair, and he nearly flew out of his skin. Lynn smiled down at him, her fingers still on his head. "Maybe that's a good thing," she said with a too bright, very forced smile. "That you don't remember."

Dean nodded uncertainly, trying to smile back. Lynn glanced across the room at her sister. "Hey, Sam," she said. "You think John's back? We should tell him the good news."

Sam nodded too. "Right, sure. Of course." He smiled at Dean. "It's good to have you back, man."

Sam headed around the foot of the bed towards the door. Lynn followed, smiling at him over her shoulder. "Missed you, Dean," she said before disappearing out into the hall.

Dean watched them go, still feeling awkward and sick and confused. He folded his arms defensively over his stomach. Then he looked at Jayne.

She looked up from the floor and met his gaze. He was startled to see tears in her eyes.

"Jayne…" he whispered.

Jayne slowly pushed herself off the wall and took a few steps towards him. Dean watched her, his eyes wide, swallowing hard. She jogged the rest of the way across the room and leapt up onto the bed, throwing herself at him. He flinched at the jostling impact, but that didn't stop Jayne from smashing her lips against his.

He was surprised, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to kiss her back. Jayne's hands were wrapped around his face, and her lips were demanding against his. She was leaning into him, kissing him desperately. Dean kissed back, equally desperate, equally hungry, but moving slower, with less force. He wrapped his arms around her waist, trying not to wince every time she bumped against a sore spot.

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Jayne jerked back in surprise and Dean's eyes swung guiltily towards the door. His face lit up. John was standing there, smirking at the two of them.

"How you feeling, Dean?" he asked.

Seriously, his father walking in on him and Jayne in compromising situations was really starting to become a habit. Jayne sheepishly pulled herself off him, perching herself on the edge of the bed. Dean shrugged. "Fine, I guess," he answered his father's question. "I'm alive."

John smirked again. "That's what matters."

Jayne was frowning at the man. "Hello, John," she rasped out. The words startled Dean – she hadn't spoken this much the entire time he'd been awake. "Haven't seen you in awhile."

His father narrowed his eyes at her. Jayne stared back, raising her eyebrow at him. Dean frowned. He was missing something.

"Jayne," his father said evenly. "You think I could talk to Dean for a moment?"

Dean looked at Jayne. She was still eyeing his father, but despite the hard look on her face, she still nodded and got to her feet. "Sure thing."

He watched her walk out the door. John glanced after her, and then stepped all the way inside the room. Dean frowned again. His father looked nervous, and anxious, like he thought he was late for an important appointment. "What is it?" Dean asked.

"You know," John said softly. "When you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after… after what I'd seen? I'd be wrecked."

Dean frowned at him.

"But you… you'd come up to me, and you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye and you'd say…"

John trailed off, choking a little. Dean could see him fighting back tears, and he didn't know what to say or what to do. He stared at his father, and John smiled at him.

"You'd say, 'It's ok, Dad.'"

There was a brief silence. Dean looked away, his breath catching in his throat, more certain than ever that something was wrong. John shook his head. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"Why?" he asked quietly, frowning at his father again.

"You shouldn't have had to say that to me. I should have been saying that to you. You know… I put too much on your shoulders. I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy; you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain – not once."

He didn't know what to say. Dean stared at his father, confused, afraid… at a complete loss for words. A single tear escaped his father's eye. "I just want you to know," John went on. "That I am so proud of you."

Dean attempted a shaky smirk. "Is this really you talking?" he tried to joke.

His father smiled back, his grin every bit as shaky as Dean's, as another tear rolled down his cheek. "Yeah, it's really me."

"Why are you saying this stuff?"

The grin faded. His father stepped closer to the bed and took him by the shoulder. "I want you to watch out for Sammy, ok?"

"Yeah, Dad. You know I will." His father stared at him, still shedding tears. "You're scaring me."

"Don't be scared, Dean," John said, trying to smile again. And then John leaned over and began to whisper in his ear.

Now, he sounded more like his father. The things he whispered were dark things, about demons, and about Sam. Dean whipped his head around to gawk incredulously at John, but the man pulled away, gave him a final smile, and then a nod. Dean just stared at him, not knowing how to absorb what had been said, not knowing what to do with it, what to say back.

Before he could think of anything, John had turned away and walked out the door. Dean watched him go, left alone to remember what his father had told him, all the while wishing he could forget.

Jayne was leaning on the wall, only one door down from the Dean's hospital room. Her heart was pounding too hard in her chest, and she could feel her stomach turning over and over and over inside her. Inhaling shakily, she folded her arms in front of her and glared at the wall across from her.

Dean was alive. He was awake. He didn't remember a damn thing.

Maybe Lynn was right. Maybe that was good thing. Jayne didn't know – it didn't feel like a good thing, but she'd been wrong before. Above all else, she didn't really care. Dean was alive. As John said, that was all that mattered.

But how was he alive? Jayne wasn't stupid – she knew damn well no one shook a reaper.

John stepped out of his son's room, his face red and wet from crying. Jayne straightened, stepping off the wall. He caught her eye and grimaced. Clearly, he wasn't in the mood for a chat.

He tried to walk on past, but Jayne wasn't having it. "Where were you last night?" she asked.

John barely spared her a glance. "None of your business."

She darted in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. "Bull. Wherever you went, you took the Colt. So as far as I'm concerned, that means you either went demon hunting, or…"

Before she could get to the 'or,' John had interrupted her. "Look," he grit out. "I'm not looking for a fight."

"Well, too bad," she retorted. "I am. You got a long sad history of ducking out when he needs you, you know that? Particularly when he's dying. I got to hope you have a better excuse this time around."

John stared at her a long time. She waited for him to yell, or make some snide comment, or even walk away. He didn't do any of those things. After a moment, he smiled. "You're right," he agreed. "I never have been much of a father to Dean. He deserved better."

It was enough to leave her speechless. Jayne gawked at him, not believing her ears. It wasn't so much what he'd said, but the fact that he'd said it to her – she'd never have expected it, not in a million years.

"You always seem to be looking out for him," John went on. Jayne continued to gawk at him. "He needs that. I'm glad."

Jayne opened her mouth, trying to stutter out some sort of retort, but John beat her to the punch. "I ain't going to be around forever," he said. "You're going to take care of him, aren't you?"

She didn't understand where this was coming from. She couldn't comprehend why the man might be saying all this to her. Slowly, she nodded.

"Of course," she whispered.

John smiled again, and gave her a nod. Then he brushed past her and headed off down the hall. Jayne turned to watch him go. It was starting to fall into place – she was starting to understand. She had suspected from the moment he'd arrived in Dean's hospital room, if she was being totally honest with herself.

"John," she called after him. "What did you do?"

He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. She stared back, her eyes hard. The man smirked again. He winked at her. "You know, for a blonde? You're a pretty smart gal."

Before that moment, Jayne had never really made the connection between Dean and John. They didn't really look alike, and she had refused to see anything of Dean in the man who so continuously let him down. But right then, she saw it. For the first time, she saw Dean in John, and it kind of scared the crap out of her.

It also confirmed her suspicion in the most sickening way. She watched him turn his back to her again, and head off down the hallway. Her eyes began to sting.

When he disappeared around the corner, Jayne shook her head and marched into the hospital room. Dean was sitting in his bed, looking like someone had kicked his puppy. She didn't say a word. He didn't look at her. Jayne plopped herself next to him on the bed and hugged him tight.

John still wasn't in his room, and Sam was annoyed. He shook his head, his fist going up to his mouth so his teeth could graze his knuckles. Lynn was standing by the door, staring at his back, and Sam refused to make eye contact with her. He didn't want to see the pity he was sure would be in her eyes.

"I can't believe him," he hissed against his fist.

Lynn sighed. "Sam, maybe it's not what you think."

He scoffed. "Right. Maybe my dad didn't go running off to have some stupid macho showdown with the demon while Dean was fighting for his life in the hospital. I mean… it doesn't sound like my dad… oh, wait. Yes, it does."

Sam was seriously pissed, and he couldn't help the attitude. Lynn just shook her head at him, tilting her head and giving him the disappointed eyes. He looked away.

"John," Lynn said suddenly, sounding surprised. Sam whirled around so he was facing the door, shocked at the sudden arrival of his father. John stood in the door, fully dressed but looking tired, his arm still in the sling. He nodded at Lynn.

"Lynn," he greeted her. "Sammy."

Sam tensed, staring his father down. "Where were you last night?" he demanded.

His father's return stare was too calm and too even to be real. "I had some things to take care of."

Sam nodded. "Well, that's specific."

John narrowed his eyes. Lynn swooped in. "Dean's awake," she announced brightly, turning to John. "I don't know if you wanted to see him…"

"I did already," he interrupted her, but not unkindly. He even smiled slightly at her. Sam frowned. "Thank you."

"Did you go after the demon?" Sam asked.

Lynn looked distinctly uncomfortable, folding her arms over her chest and lowering her eyes to the floor. His father sighed. "No."

"You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

John took a deep breath. "Can we not fight?"

Sam gawked at him. His father smirked. "Half the time we're fighting, I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads."

It was an odd thing to hear come out of his father's mouth, and Sam wasn't sure what to do with it. Frowning, he looked down at the floor, confused.

"Sammy, I've made some mistakes," John admitted, which threw Sam even further for a loop. "But I've always done the best I could. I just… don't want to fight anymore, ok?"

Sam frowned again. "Dad… are you all right?"

His father chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired."

Sam wasn't convinced. He frowned at his father a little longer. John gave him another smile. "Hey, son, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?"

He stared at John for another moment, and then nodded awkwardly. "Yeah… yeah, sure."

Slowly, he moved towards the door. His father stepped out of the way, and Sam frowned at him as he passed by, still not sure what was going on. John was still smiling at him as he walked out the hospital room, Lynn following behind him.

They made their way up the hall, towards the waiting room. "That was weird," Sam announced.

Lynn shrugged. "Dean's awake, everyone's fine… maybe it's like he said. John just doesn't want to fight anymore. Seems reasonable to me."

Sam shook his head. "No," he disagreed. "Something's going on with him."

She didn't say much else, and neither did he. Lynn disappeared into Dean's room when they passed by it, and Sam carried on the coffee mission without her.

When he came back to his father's hospital room, coffee cup in hand, he found John lying flat and still on the floor, lifeless. Sam froze in the hallway, gawking at the sight as the coffee slipped from his fingers and hit the ground. He ran into the room, shaking his father, shouting out for help.

Help came, but nothing could be done. Sam stood in the hallway, watching from the door. Dean limped out of his hospital room and came to watch with him, both of them wide-eyed and horrified, Dean muttering panicked words of encouragement at their father. The paddles came out, the doctor performed CPR… nothing worked.

"All right, I'm calling it," the doctor announced, and Sam flinched at the words. "Time of death, 10:41 am."

It was pitch black out – the dead of night. They'd built the funeral pyre at the end of an old dirt road, way out in the back of an empty field. A dark line of trees lurked behind them, and the only light came from the fire burning in front of them.

Lynn took a deep breath, staring at the flames. It was relatively cool out, but the heat coming off the fire was making sweat bead on her forehead. The whole situation was surreal, she decided. She hadn't known John very long at all, but he'd been a force the whole time she'd been with him, and for him to just be gone – just like that – it was weird.

Sam's face was wet, and more tears were spilling down his cheeks. He was sniffling, trying desperately to reign it all in, but he was failing. Lynn did the only thing she could think of – she slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze.

He didn't pull away and it legitimately surprised her.

She had to admit, it felt odd even being there in the clearing, watching the funeral pyre burn. It felt private, like maybe it ought to have just been the boys. But Sam and Dean had just assumed they'd be there, helping build the pyre, watching it burn.

Dean was just staring at the fire, blank-faced. Lynn looked over at Jayne and made eye contact. Her sister just looked… troubled. Confused. Upset? Lynn couldn't tell anymore.

They stood out there a very long time. Sam sniffed loudly and turned his head to look at Dean. "Before he… before he died…" Sam choked on the words, shaking his head, the tears clogging up his throat. Lynn gave his hand another squeeze. "Did he say anything to you?" he asked. "About anything?"

Dean glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye, and then he shook his head. There was a long silence.

"No," Dean finally whispered. "Nothing."

Lynn could have sworn she saw one tear escape Dean's eye and roll down his cheek.

For a long time, they stood there, watching the flames sputter and die as John Winchester's body turned to ash. Once he was gone, they buried the remains of the pyre, and erected a plain wooden cross. By the time they were finished, it was well past three in the morning. The four of them didn't speak as they gathered up their shovels and headed for Jayne's truck.

They all tossed their stuff into the bed, and then Sam and Dean clambered into the back too, taking their seats with their backs against the cab. Lynn swallowed, stealing glances at them as she climbed into the passenger seat. Jayne hopped up beside her and slammed the door.

The engine turned over and Jayne put the truck into gear. It rattled noisily as they bumped and shuddered their way down the dirt road. Jayne's eyes were fixed determinedly on the road ahead of them, and Lynn felt her throat close up. She had to fight the sudden urge to cry.

"You think they'll be all right?" she asked her sister.

Jayne shrugged.

Her silence was anything but comforting. Lynn studied her lap, trying to be positive, but it was practically impossible. She felt like she was drifting, stranded in no-man's land. She didn't know where any of them stood, or what was next.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Bobby Singer's junkyard," Jayne replied. "You met the guy, right? I hope he's not a dick."

Lynn chuckled in spite of herself. "Seemed ok to me."

Silence followed their short exchange. Lynn picked at her fingernails, her eyes cast distantly on the dashboard. "John's dead," she murmured.

Jayne glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. "Yep."

"The Colt's gone."

Jayne nodded, her hands tightening visibly on the steering wheel.

Lynn took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "What do we do now?"

There was another long silence. Then Jayne shrugged again. "Stick together," she murmured softly. "Figure it out… together."

Steve's words were echoing around Lynn's head – words about doom spirals and doormats and how he didn't recognize his sisters anymore. She tried to shut him out, but he was still in there, still talking, still making her second guess her decisions.

"They need us," she said out loud.

Jayne nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

Lynn nodded too, staring out the window. She was a quiet a moment, and then she said, "We're still going get that demon, gun or no gun."

Jayne smirked slightly. "Yeah," she agreed. "Guess that means we've got work to do."

Lynn smiled at her sister, and then leaned against the door. They fell silent again, and Lynn stared out the windshield, her eyes trying to make sense out of the dark road and the dark trees that lined their route.

One thing was for certain – they did have a lot of work to do.

End Volume One