Fic: Darker & Wilder (Supernatural) 1/6

[broken_cinders]

So this is what I've been working on instead of my blind Sam verse. I'm not easily distracted at all.

Title: Darker & Wilder (pt.1)
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s): Jess, Dean, Sam
Pairing(s): Gen
Word Count: 3,993
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. Like at all.
Summary: Jess is worried when Sam leaves in a hurry one Friday afternoon. The only thing he can offer her before he goes is a phone number and promise to be back by Sunday night. When he doesn't show up on time, Jess makes the call.


Jess smoothed out the edge of the note, crinkled from where she had been clutching it these last fifteen minutes. Sam gave it to her before he slung his bag over his shoulder and strode out the door, his expression grim.

She tried to convince him not to go. He’d had that faraway look he got sometimes when he talked about his childhood as he was telling her he had to take off for a few days. He wouldn’t tell her what he was doing or where he was going, just that he wouldn’t be gone long.

“What’s this about? Are you in some kind of trouble,” Jess asked. She couldn’t help the shiver of fear at the thought of what could make Sam - her always smiling, quick to laugh Sam - look like he was about to go into battle.

“Here,” he said, scribbling down a number on a bright yellow sticky note as if it was all the answer she needed. “If I’m not back in two days, call this number. Tell him...just tell him I had an emergency situation, and I need his help. He’ll know what to do. But seriously, only if I’m not back by Sunday night.”

“Sam, wait! You’re not making sense. What’s going on?”

“There’s just something I have to take care of. It’s fine. I promise.”

“Whose number is this?”

“My brother’s.”

He kissed her on the top of her head, then marched out the door before she could stop him. That was Friday afternoon. By Saturday evening she’d been worried. By Sunday afternoon she was going crazy.

She chewed her nails as she glanced up at the kitchen clock. It was only just 4 o’clock. The afternoon sunlight was pouring in the window over the sink, catching in the crystal bird she had hung from the curtain rod and casting rainbows on the floor. Sam could just be caught in traffic. It could be nothing. Except, she’d seen the determined set to his shoulders as the door fell shut behind him.

Fifteen minutes of watching the seconds tick by drug past before she gave in and punched the number into her phone.

She thought it was going to go to voicemail. On the fifth ring, the call connected. She could make out tinny music and chatter over the line. There was a long, fraught pause before a man’s voice said, “Sam.”

It was tightly neutral. If anything, it almost sounded cold, but it jogged Jess into action. “Not exactly.”

“Who is this?” What had been carefully neutral before turned threatening. “How did you get this number?”

“My name is Jess, Sam’s girlfriend. He gave me your number before he left on Friday. He said...he said if he wasn’t back on Sunday to call you. That you’d know what to do. He wouldn’t tell me where he was going or what was going on. Just to tell you he had an emergency situation.”

“Did he go by himself?”

“Yes, as far as I know.”

“And you don’t know where he was headed?”

“No,” Jess said, feeling small and scared.

There was a growl from the other end of the line. “Dammit, Sammy. Okay. I’m on my way. You still at that little apartment? The one with the funny tree in front?

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in three hours.” Without another word, he hung up. Jess was left staring at the phone in her hands wondering what had just happened. As far as she knew, Sam hadn’t spoken to any of his family since he’d arrived on campus. Yet his brother had been willing to drop everything and head over with no more explanation than that Sam was possibly in trouble.

Jess honestly didn’t know what to expect from the mysterious Dean. She’d heard the name a handful of times, usually said with such reverence that she felt like she was intruding by asking about him. All she knew was that Dean had basically raised Sam and that he liked pie, beer, and that car of his. She never intended to meet him like this.

The first hour of her wait, she paced, debating whether to call the cops. Was Sam technically missing? He had said Sunday evening. It could be as simple as that his car broke down and he was stuck somewhere. He might even now be walking to get service on his phone. Deep in her gut she knew that wasn’t true, but she also knew Sam wouldn’t want her to call the police either. His eyes went tight and he slouched almost reproachfully when he saw an officer. He’d told her once that cops had always meant trouble for his family. She hadn’t pried. By that point she knew Sam had grown up rough simply from what he hadn’t said. She held off. If his brother couldn’t give her some answers, then she’d report him missing.

By the second hour, she had worried herself into an anxious ball of energy. It got to where she was itching with the extra nerves. With a scowl, she chided herself for worrying over things she couldn’t fix and began viciously cleaning the apartment. No way was she going to meet her boyfriend’s family for the first time while he judged her for her dirty socks laying on the living room floor. She scrubbed and straightened and vacuumed until the whole place felt new.

By the third hour, all her cleaning had managed to do was make her physically tired. She was still too wired to actually relax. Instead, she started cooking. It was past her usual dinner time, and presumably she’d pulled Dean away from his own meal. The least she could do was feed him if it got her closer to solving the mystery of what Sam had been up to. She even put together an apple pie, and set it in the oven.

Not five minutes after she set the pie aside to cool, a knock sounded at her door. It was thunderous in the quiet of the apartment. She jumped, dropping the spoon she had being stirring the potatoes with to clatter on the linoleum floor.

She scooped the spoon up, dumping it in the sink and then scrambled to the door. She pulled it open to find a man standing in her doorway. He was tall, although at least a head shorter than Sam, and dark. He looked worn around the edges, although, even now his eyes held a bit of mischief in them. Under any other circumstances, she’d find him at least mildly attractive.

Now she just stared at him.

“Uh, Jess right?”

She blinked, realizing she’d been eyeing him for a full minute without saying anything. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, come in.” She stepped aside and allowed him to come into the apartment. He seemed to see right into her and she doubted he ever missed much about people.

His face lightened in surprise as he crossed the threshold. “Wow, something smells good.”

She turned and went into the kitchen. “Sam said you liked pie. I know I probably pulled you away from dinner. Least I could do.”

“Thanks sweetheart, but at the moment what I really need is to find Sam.”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure how much help I can be. He didn’t tell me anything.”

Dean frowned as he glanced around the spotless apartment. “He do this often?”

“No,” she said with a tight shake of her head. “I mean he sometimes takes off for a day or so, but never like this. He seemed grim.”

Dean nodded and dropped his bag to the floor. “He still got that old laptop?”

She shuffled into the bedroom and grabbed the laptop in question off their desk. When she came back, he had pulled a map out of his bag and spread it onto the kitchen table.

“Here,” she said, drawing his eyes back onto her. “I don’t know his password though.”

Dean gave her an odd look. He took the laptop and flipped it open. “Isn’t that one of those couple things? Like knowing each other’s coffee order or something?”

“Maybe,” she said as she came to watch over his shoulder. “But privacy’s a big thing for Sam and I respect that. If it’s important, he’ll share, and if I ask, he lets me look.”

Dean scowled. “Yeah. He’s real big on privacy.” He clicked a handful of keys. Jess couldn’t help the pang of jealousy as the lock screen gave way to the desktop.

Dean rooted around for a few minutes, clicking through the browsing history and poking at the obvious documents. “Come on, kid. Where’d you hide it,” he muttered to himself. Then a smile grew on his face. “Gotcha!”

Dean clicked on an icon that looked suspiciously like a pentagram, barely visible against the background, and was prompted for a second password. This one gave him pause. He muttered as he typed a couple of ideas into the field. On the third try he snorted as a folder popped open to reveal a set of files she’d never seen.

One was a word document with a handful of links that mostly went to a local paper. One was a pdf marked journal. One was a document simply labelled “Dean.” There was a secondary folder marked contacts as well. Dean poked around in it, but left off when it didn’t hold any answers, just a list of nonsense names and some phone numbers.

Dean clicked through the file with his name on it. Jess scanned over his shoulder, but it became apparent quickly that it had been a draft of a letter that Sam had been working on, and not something to do with his disappearance, so she didn’t try to read it. Next to her, Dean grunted and closed it quickly. Instead, he went back to the document with the site links and followed them through.

Jess skimmed them, but they seemed like a random collection. They were all from different time periods, mostly just old missing persons cases. There were some old property records and something that looked suspiciously like a recipe in Latin. The most recent article was from a few days prior, a group of kids kidnapped from a field trip. Nothing about the information seemed to be related.

At least Jess didn’t think so. Dean apparently saw something she didn't. “Dammit, Sammy. What were you thinking?”

“What is it?”

“Just my dumbass little brother thinking he’s invincible.” If anything, Dean sounded exasperated. It was the same tone her cousin used to use on her when she begged him to take her out on his motorcycle.

“I don’t get it,” Jess said.

“Look, I don’t know what Sam’s told you or not told you about his past or our family business. My guess is not much. I won’t spill his secrets, but it’s dangerous - can be very dangerous - and Sam went into it up to his eyes in research, which he’s good at I’ll grant, but with no back up on a case that should have at least two if not three people.”

“Family business? Case?” Jess asked, bewildered. “What like FBI or something?”

“Or something,” Dean said with a scowl, scanning back through the property records. “You said he left Friday night?”

“Yeah.”

“And he hasn’t called or checked in since then?”

“No,” Jess said, starting to get angry. She wanted answers, not more mysteries. “No, just what I told you over the phone. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I just did. Your boyfriend’s gone and gotten himself in trouble. I’m going to have me a bite of whatever smells so good after all, and then I’m going to go rescue that punk of a little brother.”

“No.” Jess smacked her hand on the table. “I want to know exactly what he’s gotten himself mixed up in. What is going on!”

Dean looked at her over his shoulder, brow arched. “Can’t you piece it together?”

“What? All the missing persons reports? What’s so special about them?”

“Sam went to help,” Dean said with a shrug. “Maybe save the last few survivors.”

“Why didn’t he just call the police if he had information about it?”

“Because the police can’t handle the sorts of things Sam and I were trained to.”

“It’s a missing person,” She snapped. “What exactly does Sam know that the police don’t? Don’t get me wrong, a bus full of kids going missing is sad, but it’s not Sam’s responsibility.”

Dean scowled. “You know. That’s what I thought Sam had decided when he moved out here. My best guess is because it’s kids. He always had a soft spot for them. When I drag his ass back I’ll be sure to ask him what was going through his head. Until then, what’s a guy got to do to get some grub around here?”

Jess huffed, but didn’t argue. They were talking in circles at this point. She was tired and scared, and honestly a little hungry herself. She took a deep breath, trying not to murder Sam’s brother. “Fine. Let’s eat.” She moved off to the stove and started putting together a couple of plates. As she did, she heard him stand and move towards the door. It clicked open and he stepped out, closing it behind him. She hesitated for a second then crept to the door and put her ear against the wood.

“Don’t give me that, Bobby,” Dean was muttering low enough she had to strain to hear him. “I know you’ve been talking to him. I saw his last email.... Yeah, well. Dad ain’t here.” There was a scuff as he leaned up against the door, then a sigh. “This is Sam. Of course he went when no one else could and he went in solo.
There was a long pause before Dean finally said, “No, it looks like some kind of big mojo witch. He left some good intel. Gonna follow up tonight, but it’s still a little early for me to head over.... Yeah, there were notes about the ritual she’s using. The kids should be fine. Moon’s the wrong phase. Earliest she could do anything would be tomorrow night unless she’s going all Hansel and Gretel.”
Somehow, even listening in she felt like she was out of the loop. Witches? Hansel & Gretel? Were they talking in some kind of code? Dean’s sharp tone cut through her thoughts. “I don’t know! But if it’s where Sam thought, the sight lines are a fucking nightmare. I won’t get ten feet in without it being dark.... Yeah, I will. Thanks, Bobby.”

As he signed off, Jess scampered away from the door and back to the stove. She had just enough time to be laying out their plates on the table as he came back in. When she looked him over, he just shrugged. “Had to make a call.”

They sat and ate. Dean seemed to appreciate her cooking if nothing else. He made frankly disturbing noises when he bit into the pie. “If you weren’t Sam’s girl,” he said, eyes rolling back in pleasure. “I’d marry you. Just for this.”

“For pie?”

He nodded, grinning at her.

“Look, I’m glad you like the pie,” she said. “But I’d really like to understand what’s going on. What are you doing?”

“I’m rescuing Sam,” He said as he scraped the last bits of apple filling from the plate with his fork.

“From what?” She said, losing her patience entirely. “Serial kidnapper? Sociopath with a love for giant geeks? A marauding flock of geese? What exactly did Sam get into?”

Dean shook his head. He set the plate aside and frowned. “Like I said, it’s dangerous. Serial kidnapper is the closest you’re going to get and I can tell you don’t believe that, so I’m just going to say trust me when I tell you, Sam’s kept his mouth shut to protect you. I may still be pissed at him, but I wouldn’t undermine that.”

“I don’t need protecting. I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can, sweetheart,” he said. He stood and pulled his keys from his pocket. “I got no doubt, but this is an entirely different ballgame from drunk frat boys and pervs in parking lots. So you just hang tight and let me do my job. You can yell at Sasquatch when he comes home.”

“Where are you going?”

“Orinda. Or just outside it.”

“When?”

“I’m heading out in about an hour,” he said, moving towards the door. “Gotta time it so I’m there after dark. Plus I needed some food and a few supplies.”

“What supplies?”

Dean paused at the door. He turned back to give her an appraising look. “You really want to know?”

“I asked didn’t I?”

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m going to need sage, mint, rosemary, some amethyst, and a white beeswax candle. I got most of it in the car, except the candle. Hoping geek boy keeps one, seeing how he warded the house.”

“So what,” Jess said. She could feel a headache coming on. First it sounds like some CIA, black-ops style mess and now he’s going to burn sage at the problem? “You’re pagan witches or something?”

Dean snorted. “Hardly. So how about it, got a candle or two?”

Jess frowned. “White beeswax? I don’t think so. Just the scented one in the bathroom.”

“Mind if I take a look? Wherever Sam keeps his duffle.”

“He took it with him.”

“Figured. But where does he store it?”

Jess shrugged and gestured down the hallway. “On the shelf over the closet in the guest room.”

Dean nodded and rose. He didn’t even ask, just took off into the second bedroom. Jess followed him. He slipped back out of the room past her to grab one of the kitchen chairs and drag it back. He climbed to stand on the chair and peek at the top of the shelf. Jess was surprised when he crowed in triumph and pulled down a metal box she’d never seen before with a little lock on it.

He pressed the release, but rolled his eyes when the box was locked. He glanced over at Jess and waved an impatient hand at her. “I need a hair pin. Or a paper clip, whichever.”

Jess pulled out a pin from her bun and handed it to him without a word. It was a matter of seconds before he had cracked the lid and was rooting through the contents. He held up the candle and waggled it at her with a grin.  He pulled the whole kit down and took it back to the table along with the chair.

Jess joined him back at the table as he started digging for what he needed. She plucked through the topmost contents. There were small bags of herbs, a few vials with liquids in them, a knife she’d bet her two back teeth was silver, a couple of candles along with some matches, a spool of white thread and a small bundle of cloth that looked suspiciously like the old t-shirt he’d told her had shrunk in the wash.

Dean didn’t waste any time, he rummaged through the contents, pulling out a small assortment of things. “What is all of this,” Jess asked finally.

Dean didn’t look up from his work. “Tools of the trade. Mostly for protection.”

“I thought you said you weren’t witches.”

Dean snorted. “Trust me, we aren’t. But if you’d seen some of the things we have, you’d understand. How did you think he protected the apartment?”

“As far as I know, he didn’t.”

“Then you’re blind,” Dean said, waving a hand absently at the living room. “There’s wardings everywhere in here. A few even I don’t know.”

“What?” Jess gasped. She had known he was superstitious, but “warding” their home? That seemed a little far even for Sam.

Dean glanced back up at her and shrugged. “Figured you knew. They’ve obviously been there for a while and no one has tried to clean them off.”

“Where?”

“Nuh-uh. You leave them be. If not for your own safety, then because it would upset Sam if they were gone.”

Dean had collected the ingredients into a makeshift sachet and stitched a symbol into the fabric. He gathered the ends and tied them off, then lit the candle. He said a short chant then allowed the wax to drop on the thread holding the bag closed.

He blew the candle out. Jess watched the smoke drift in lazy curls towards the ceiling. After a moment, he replaced the candle and the extra herbs into the kit. He left the box on the table, but it was as neat and organized as it was when he found it.

“Alright,” he said, standing and shrugging on his jacket. “This is where I head out. Stay here. Keep the door locked. Until we’re back, don’t let anyone in just to be safe.”

Jess started. He was leaving to go get Sam. He was leaving her to sit and worry. More to the point he was going into something he claimed was dangerous armed with a bag of herbs and a cocky attitude. She folded her arms over her chest, feeling a bit more herself for the first time that night. “I’m coming with you.”

Dean turned and gave her a mocking glance over. “Not happening.”

“Try and stop me.”

“Look, sweetheart. Sam cares about you. I am not putting you in danger if I don’t have to. Plus, no offense but I don’t have time to look after a civie today. I gotta move and move fast. You’ll only slow me down. Stay here, stay safe, and in a few hours you can feed Sammy up with that pie and a good guilt trip. He deserves it.”

“No,” She said. This was one fight she wasn’t willing to lose. “You said it yourself. Sam’s in trouble. What if he’s hurt? You might need the extra hands. I’m coming. Leave me in the car if you have to, but I am going. I will follow you if I have to.”

Dean must have seen something in her stance. “For fuck’s sake!” He said, throwing his arms in the arm. “Fine! I don’t have time to argue with you. But you stay in the car. You do not, under any circumstances come in with me. And you keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. I mean it. You make one move to come in with me and I’ll lock you in the trunk. I’m not shitting you about this being dangerous.”

Jess nodded grimly. “Fine.”

“Then go put some clothes on,” he snapped. “Something you can run in if you have to. And be quick about it.”

She glanced down at the loose sundress she’d been wearing. She’d thrown it on this morning not intending to leave the house and more worried about Sam than about how she looked. She jogged into her room and threw on the first clothes she found that looked like they might be movement friendly. In less than five minutes, she was wearing loose jeans and t-shirt over her crappy sneakers.

Dean looked her over, appraising her choices then shrugged. “Let’s go. We’ve got a twenty minute drive to get there.”

Dean led the way down the breezeway stairs and out to his car. Jess couldn’t help but eye it appreciatively. The car was a monster, but she was gorgeous - dark and sleek, obviously well cared for.

Dean slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. Jess hesitated, but one look back at her dark apartment window convinced her. She was going to be there when they found Sam, and she was never going to let him out of her sight again. As they pulled away, Jess couldn’t help but worry what Sam was doing at that moment.

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