Home At Last

Jessica Dawn

He can't help but jump from the bed when he wakes up, his head spinning like it never has before, and though he doesn't know it yet, a small trickle of blood stemming from his nose. He stumbles into the bathroom, hanging over the sink as he lets the cold water fill a glass, pounding it back, and then filling it again. He lets the glass sit on the ceramic counter, heading back out into the motel room itself, grabbing his duffel bag, and a packet of Tylenol from it. The package is easily popped open as he lets three pills fall from it into his mouth, swallowing them with the glass of water.

It's only when he looks up at his reflection for the first time that he realizes he's bleeding, and he grabs a facecloth from the counter, pressing it to his nose. It only takes a few seconds of pressure to end the trickle, but it's still a little bit alarming to wake up after such a vivid dream, feeling like somebody had literally beaten the shit out of him while he slept. Sam shook slightly as he touched a hand to his temple, rubbing in a small circle. He hates migraines. He gets them often enough to know this, but aside from pop a few Tylenol every now and again, he's figured out that there really isn't much he can do to make them any easier on him when they do pop up.

it doesn't take Sam long to figure out that whatever these dreams are, the fact that they've been happening over the course of a few years now has to say something. Few and far between though they have been, they've still been constant. The facts in them never change. Her name is Jessica, and she's absolutely perfect. He couldn't imagine a better girl than her. He had started to believe that he would never manage to settle for anybody that wasn't her, but now he knows better. He's sure now that whatever they are, they aren't good.

It's hopeless to try and call Dad. He hasn't answered his phone in months, even though it seemed as though he'd gone out of his way to leave Sam a trail to follow. It's kind of sad really, the way Sam has
been following him, but he doesn't know any other life. He never had the chance to really go to school for more than a few weeks at a time, and had to settle for a GED, because the hunt was more important than anything else. College was a pipe-dream of his childhood; one that he had long since abandoned. Dad had made it clear over the years that Sam wasn't meant for anything other than this. Revenge was all they had, looking to get The Demon that had gotten his mother and his brother, and it was just that simple.

But if Dad wasn't going to answer his phone, he could go for the next best substitute, and he frequently did, leaving the bathroom again, retrieving his cell phone from the bedside table as he sat down, dialling the very familiar number of Bobby Singer.

-

Dean absolutely adored Sundays. If he was at the station, it meant family dinner. The whole crew got together once a week for a meal with all of them. It usually ended in some semi-drunken sausage-fest, nearly a dozen of them crammed around the pool and foosball tables, but it was good fun. Even if he wasn't at the station, it usually meant that he was home with Jess, catching up on whatever they could – housework, yard work, life, each other, sleep – it was just nice to be home and spend time with her.

This Sunday was different though. This Sunday, Dean had one specific task in mind. The engine on the old Ford he had inherited from his father had finally crapped out, leaving him with only one option. He needed a new set of wheels. Sure, Betsy would always have a place in the garage, because Dean was a sentimental person, and he couldn't get rid of the truck when it was one of the few things he had left from his father. The thought alone of the white truck being gone shook him, and he wasn't quite sure how he was going to handle it when eventually Jess put her foot down.

But that still had very little to do with finding a new ride. It was a necessity, not an option, for Dean to have one. Considering his limited computer skills, Jess had taken it upon herself to spend some of her free time that morning searching classified ads online, calling Dean over for anything in their price range. She'd learned pretty quickly to count out anything that had the word 'smart' or 'hybrid' in it, and that Dean relied a little less on how economical a car was as opposed to how it looked, and how it ran.

"Why don't you just head down to the auctions this afternoon? I mean... at least the truck had good timing, right?"

Dean had had to laugh at that, shaking his head just slightly. "Yeah. Great timing Jess," he laughed again, "The auctions run every other week, it's just luck." But it was a good idea. The auctions would eliminate the costs of something like leasing, and they were already pretty cheap.

And so it was set, that afternoon Dean found himself hopping onto a bus, and oh God the embarrassment of needing to take the bus, but it was the only way he could actually get to the car auctions.

Really, there was nothing there that took to his heart - a couple of minivans, a pickup truck (that he would have bought, had it not been canary yellow), and a number of sedans. Overall, it had been a bust, and he'd had to come to reason. He wasn't seeing anything he liked because he was too emotionally attached to the pickup that wouldn't run anymore, and until he could get over that, there was no hope for a new purchase. It was on the bus ride home that he'd seen it, and he felt his heart stop.

A sleek black car sat on the street, a 'for sale' sign in its window.

She was shiny, and beautiful, and she tugged at heartstrings that had remained untouched in Dean for years now, when he was awake. All black on chrome, and from what he could see as the bus drove past, a beautiful leather interior. He knew without even thinking that she was a '67 Chevy Impala, and that at this point he didn't care if it cost his salary for an entire year, she was going to be his. He pulled the cord to get off the bus, and was quick in jogging back two blocks from the stop to get to her, looking in through her windows. An old car though she was, she looked to be in great shape. At least aesthetically. He'd have to wait for the owner to show face before he could pop the hood and get a good look at her insides.

Fortunately, he wouldn't have to wait long for that to happen, after calling the number listed. It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes when a man approached, leaning on the roof of the car with both arms, "You interested?" he'd asked, even though in Dean's opinion it had to be fairly obvious that he was interested. The man was a total slimeball from what he could tell, bald on the crown, and wearing a stained undershirt with his jeans. How he had come into possession of such a beautiful car, Dean had no clue.

"Yeah…" he'd started, his hand gliding over the hood, "Think I could get a look underneath?"

The man made a strange sound, and lit a cigarette before popping the hood. "Knock yourself out. Some guy sold it to me a week ago, but the wife just started bitching that we can't afford something like this. Something about terrible gas mileage. Hell if I know."

Dean just laughed and shook his head. Clearly this man knew nothing about cars. He poked around, checking out the engine, pulling out the dipstick… Whoever had sold this man the car sure knew how to take care of one. "How much do you want for her?" He didn't need to look closely to know he was willing to pay anything to have this car in his driveway.

"Well, I only paid $1500…"

Dean didn't even bother bargaining with the guy. Even giving him a profit on the car, Dean was still getting an amazing deal in his opinion, "I'll give you two grand."

-

Jessica couldn't help but stare at the giant car that now stood in the driveway. She folded her arms over her chest and raised one hand to cover her slackened jaw, her forehead crinkling as she went over her thoughts, "Where the hell did you find that thing, Dean?" she asked, unable to take her eyes away from it.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

"She?"

"She."

"It's a car Dean."

"And she's beautiful."

"Cars don't have genders."

"Come on Jess… Can't you tell? She's… Sexy."

At that, Jessica had had to laugh. Dean had a crush, and she couldn't help but find it hilarious rather than being jealous. After all, a car really wasn't a significant other, even if it seemed like her boyfriend was utterly infatuated. "How's the mileage on her?"

Dean flushed slightly, looking up from the hood of the car and at Jess, "She's an expensive cougar… and she's been around the block a few times… But I got her for two grand… I really saved a load on her."

"Does she need any work done?"

"Nothing I can't handle. Whoever had her all these years did a damn good job."

"Is she clean?"

"By my standards."

"And by mine?"

"You might wanna grab the febreeze."

"What's her name?"

Dean just stared at her. The thought had never occurred to him that she ought to have a proper name. He'd known she was a girl when he'd laid eyes on her, but there was no name that came directly to mind. He smirked at her at that thought. "A girl this pretty doesn't need a name."

Jess came over and shoved him lightly, her lips pursed, "You're such a jerk," she laughed.

Dean laughed as well, backing up against the Impala, pulling Jess up against him. "You like it when I act like a jerk."

She hit his shoulder, trying her hardest to continue to look mad, but coming up short and laughing at him, "I love you."

"I love you too, Jess," Dean answered, leaning in for a kiss.

-

"Listen boy… I ain't got no clue what it could be. D'you try callin y'r Daddy?" Bobby Singer had asked, leaning back in the chair in his study. It seemed precarious on the back two legs, and they wobbled beneath him, but it was with a practiced precision that he found the sweet spot, and his balance was properly restored.

"He hasn't answered his phone in months. He ditched me in Nevada and I haven't heard from him since that banshee," Sam had explained, pacing the room opposite him. There was a tread worn in the aged hardwood, a path followed by many before he'd started up today. "He dropped off the face of the earth far as I can tell."

"Yeah… That sounds like him," the elder hunter commented, flipping through the pages of a book. "Tell me what happened, exactly, again?"

Sam sighed, and sunk into an old loveseat that had just enough room between stacks of dusted books for him to sit. "I told you… I had this dream, about this girl… I've dreamt about her my whole life, really… But now I'm starting to think that I'm… Not me? Does that make any sense?"

Bobby nodded, fingers perched together, letting him continue.

"Anyways… This time it was different… I was a firefighter, I think… And a call was placed to my house… and when I got there, I was trying to save her and then… I pulled myself out… Like meI was there saving whoever I was… But it wasn't like a dream. I could feel everything… And it was like a premonition… I think that she's actually going to die in a fire on November second…"

"What makes you think this is a premonition?"

"I don't know, Bobby… I woke up with a nosebleed and the worst headache of my life…"

"And you think that's grounds for psychic visions?"

Sam stood again and resumed his pacing, because he knew if he were on the other end of this conversation he'd be more convinced that he needed to be committed than that he had had a psychic vision, or a death omen, or whatever it was. "I don't know, Bobby. That's why I came to you. I don't know what I should do."

"Only one way to find out," the grizzled hunter had pointed out with a slight shrug, "Y'gotta head out to wherever this girl is gonna bite the dust on the second."

-

Authors Note: You have no idea how horribly I feel for leaving this unfinished for so long. All but the last two paragraphs of this chapter have been in my inbox for years, and I can only apologize for breaking my promise about not forcing you all to wait for this chapter for six months, and instead leaving it for nearly six years. I've had no drive to write for a very long time now, and have found myself only recently in what I hope to be a better chapter of my life.

Please accept my apology, and I hope you enjoyed this long awaited update.

- Jessica Dawn