FIC: In His Deceit - 2/8
Title: In His Deceit
Author: Miss 'Drea
Artist: pixymisa
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/OFC, Dean/Sam, brief Sam/Trickster
Beta: selecasharp and blackcathollow
Word Count: 22100/20000
Warnings: Genderbending, angst, some show-level amount of gore
Summary: When the perfect woman shows up during Dean's latest hunt, he spends more time trying to catch her attention than he does solving the hunt. She hunts with him even though she has no idea what she's doing and he's all over that; he likes teaching. Everything is perfect. Except for when it isn't. She vanishes without a trace and then Dad goes missing right after. Dean thinks they're linked. (He has no idea.)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even a little bit. Title is from the Rune's poem.
Notes: Special thanks to selecasharp for coming up with my title, and for the beta and everything else. And to pixymisa, without whom I would have scrapped the story and dropped out of the entire bigbang out of writer's block frustration. Thanks, hon. <3 Mostly though, thank you for the dance.
| Prologue | 1 | Interlude I | 2 | Interlude II | 3 | Interlude III | Epilogue |
| Notes & Soundtrack | Art Post (coming soon!)|
| 1 |
THEN
Dean first sees her getting out of one of the most beautiful cars he's ever seen. It's a vintage Pontiac: a 1966 GTO, he can tell by the clean lines and the way it growls as it drives up to the diner. The car is a deep forest green with just enough depth to the color that it seems to shimmer and change in the bright sunlight. Dean has an extensive knowledge of cars, and he's never seen a GTO with that specific color before. It suits the car, and it suits her, and he wonders if the custom job was done by her or if she bought it that way.
His attention is on the beauty she drives so that he almost doesn't see her when she comes through the door. She's tall, taller than most women, and slender. Her hair is shoulder-length but wavy, and she has hazel eyes that seem to look right through him.
Literally, because even as he smiles at her, she's looking away and around. Dean shrugs to himself when she sits down with a short, smiling man a few feet away. At least he can look at her car.
He does, however, find his eyes straying over to where the mysterious woman with the GTO sits with her companion. He can't see her face, just the back of her head, and with the way her head is bowed, she looks sad.
Her companion looks amused, and finally he says something to her that gets a reaction other than the bowed head. She slams a hand down on the table between them and points a painted fingernail at him. Her voice is hushed though, and the guy she's sitting with laughs and says something else.
Dean finally stops dallying and stands, throwing some bills down on his table to pay for the coffee and the pie. As he turns toward the door, the woman whips around and stares at him. There's something in her eyes that Dean can't - and doesn't want to - read. Then it's gone and her face smooths out.
He smiles at her again, and her lips turn up in a small grin that shows him deep dimples that cut grooves into her cheeks. She stands too, and is just a little shorter than Dean is. "Hi," she says, holding out a hand. "I'm... Jacqui. Jacqui Greene."
Dean takes her hand with an even wider smile. "Hi, Jacqui Greene. I'm Dean Winchester."
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. "Hi there, Dean Winchester," she drawls, faintly accented. "I've been dreaming about you."
Dean is faintly surprised, but he can't say he hasn't heard that particular line before. "Oh yeah?" he asks, with a wide smirk.
There's a brief pause before she rolls her eyes. "Not like that," she complains. "Can we sit down, please?" It's something in her eyes that makes him say yes, and he leads her to the booth he'd just abandoned. "I'm sorry for just... springing this on you. But I don't know who else to ask."
"Ask what?" Dean asks, feeling lost.
She bites her lip, looking down into her lap for a moment. "I know what you are," she says, her voice low. "A hunter." When she looks up at him, her eyes are over-bright and she seems to gather her courage. "Just like my father. He's gone now."
Dean feels a pang of loss even though it's not his father she's talking about. "I'm sorry," he offers her.
"Don't be." She places her hands on the table, tapping her green-lacquered nails on the fake linoleum cover. "I don't know who else to turn to. He talked about your father, you know. John Winchester. And I thought, who better to help me than his son?" Dean blinks at her, trying to place her face and her name. He comes up blank, but his dad has so many contacts that Dean isn't really surprised that he doesn't know her.
He licks his lips before responding. "So what's the case?"
She pulls out her messenger bag and hands him a sealed manila folder. "I don't know what it is. I thought it was a Pagan god, a Scarecrow... but now I'm not sure. Whatever it is, it's killing travelers. I escaped, but my father..." She looks pained, looking down. "It skinned him alive."
Dean's seen a lot since he started hunting solo. The mental images still make him wince. "How'd your dad find the hunt?"
Jacqui shrugs one shoulder. "I don't usually hunt with him. I can shoot but, well... Dad never thought much of my abilities." Dean winces again, this time outwardly, thinking of Sam and the last huge fight he'd had with their father. "Anyway, he left me a voicemail at home, and it ended... well."
He holds up a hand. "I get it. Where?"
"North Dakota."
Dean snorted and she cracked a smile. "My uncle lives in South Dakota. We can get his input."
Jacqui bites her lip and nods. "So you'll help me?"
"Yeah, I'll help you. I saw your car. Follow me there." They get up together, and Dean holds the door open for her. He sees her glance behind them at the man who was sitting in the booth with her. The man, short with sandy brown hair, waves jauntily at them.
She grimaces but waves back.
"Good luck, kiddo!" the man calls over. "I'll be seeing you."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she mutters. Dean grins.
*
Up close, her car is even more gorgeous than he thought. The green is a deep forest color with a shine that makes it look blue when the sun hits it in certain ways. "You like cars?" he asks as she uses her hip to keep the door propped open.
"Dad did," she answers, running a hand down the side of the window. "This was his." Her glance is fond as she looks over the car. "It's a little flashy, though." Dean laughs, and she shoots him a grin. "Every time I get stopped, though, it's really easy to get out of tickets."
"Oh yeah?" Dean asks. "How?"
"I have boobs," Jacqui says simply.
Dean nearly hyperventilates, he laughs so hard. "What happens if it's a female cop?"
She flashes him another smile before getting into the car. "Wouldn't you like to know." When she closes the door, she nearly takes off his fingers, but she waits for him at the edge of the road. As they drive, Dean phones Bobby, calculating the time difference as he does. It's about noon where Bobby is, so he answers on the first ring.
"Yeah?"
"Hey, Bobby, it's me," Dean says. "I've got a hunt for you to research." Bobby is silent but Dean can hear him rustling around his messy desk for a pen and paper. "You ready?"
"Yeah. Hit me."
Dean outlines the background quickly, the girl and her hunt. "It seems like the creature skins them alive, but I don't know what it does with them after. She... well, she had pictures of human skin spread out on a roof, like it was drying." He shudders. "Any thoughts?"
Bobby thinks for a minute. "It sounds like a Boo Hag."
Frowning, Dean makes a mental note to look in his journal. "Boo Hag? I thought those were specifically native to the Carolinas?"
"Typically, they are, but Boo Hags probably don't adhere to state lines." Bobby's voice is dry and Dean can hear him flipping through books. "Where's the hunt supposed to be?"
"North Dakota."
He can hear Bobby's nonverbal surprise through the cell phone. "That's pretty far from the Carolinas..." he murmurs. "I'll figure out something. I'll call you." The line goes dead and Dean tosses his cell onto the passenger side of his car. It's only been a few months since Sammy had left him, and the other side of his car still seems so empty without his gigantic brother to sit there.
As soon as the cell lands on the seat it goes off again, and Dean nearly dislocates his elbow trying to snatch it back up. It's never Sam, but he always hopes. It's the number that Jacqui plugged into his phone and he answers with a smile. "What's up?"
"We should consolidate cars," she says promptly. "That way we don't have to keep calling each other. We should take mine."
Dean is horrified. "I would never leave my baby!"
He can practically hear the face she makes. "Well," she says lightly, "it was worth a try."
"You were testing me?" Dean asks incredulously. "You bitch!"
She's smirking, he knows it. "You started it. Jerk." Dean laughs until he realizes that she isn't Sam, and though logically Sam has no claim on calling him a jerk, it's not the same.
"We'll talk about it at dinner," he says abruptly. "Don't talk on the phone and drive."
Jacqui snorts. "Yes, Dad."
They hang up, and Dean throws the phone again. It's not Sam, it's never Sam.
It's never going to be Sam.
*
It's not until they stop for the night that they realize how potentially awkward their hunting together is going to be. "Two queens or a king?" the boy with a lip piercing behind the counter says.
"Uh," Dean says inelegantly, glancing sideways at Jacqui. He was just going to get two queens but now that he's faced with the decision, he's not sure how Jacqui would feel about that.
"Two queens," she says firmly. "Thank you." She even pays while Dean is still standing a little shocked. She pulls him by the sleeve to their room and says, "I'm not a delicate flower and we can't afford two rooms." She automatically takes the bed farthest from the door and puts down her bag. "So calm down, okay?"
Dean grins. "Just don't molest me in my sleep."
Her eyebrow raises. "Isn't that my line?" He winces. "I don't actually think you're going to molest me in my sleep," she clarifies quickly. "Okay, so I haven't shared a room with a guy since, uh... prom. But you can have first shower."
As soon as the words leave her mouth, she rubs her forehead with her palm and Dean laughs. She's so awkward it's actually cute. And, like everything else, it reminds him of Sam.
Her own giggles fade as suddenly as his do, and she says, "Are you... okay?"
"Yeah, sure, why?" Dean says quickly, sitting on the bed hard.
Jacqui snorts and sits down next to him. "Dude, that was so unconvincing I'm actually ashamed of you. Try again." Dean doesn't answer; just because Jacqui is a girl doesn't mean he wants to go around having chick flick moments all the time. Astonishingly, Jacqui's face softens and she reaches over to touch his leg. "Who did you lose?" Dean shoots her a startled glance. Is he that easy to read?
She doesn't push him though, just leaves her hand warm on his knee. Eventually, the silence stretches long enough that her hand stops being idle and she begins painting designs with her fingertips along the top of his leg. The touch isn't sexual though, just soothing, and Dean relaxes. "My brother," he says in the silence.
Her fingers twitch where they are on his leg. "I lost my brother too," she murmurs. "Probably a lot longer ago than it seems."
And then it's awkward again.
*
Dean wakes up to a pillow in the face. Jacqui is standing over him, coffee in one hand and the pillow in the other. "Are you up yet?" she asks, offering the coffee and a smile. "Because it's almost six."
"Six... in the morning?" he mutters groggily. "Fuck you, I'm going back to sleep."
"If we leave now, we'll get to Bobby's by lunchtime," she points out.
He does give it half a moment of thought before rolling over and pulling the bedspread over his head. "Nope," he says, muffled by his pillow. "Wake me in three hours."
She huffs out an impatient sigh but leaves him be. A second later, the door to the motel room opens and closes softly. Dean glances up quickly and sees she's left, but the travel mug of coffee is sitting on his bedside table. He falls back asleep with a smile.
When he wakes up again, there is the smell of bacon and coffee, and when he opens his eyes, Jacqui's hazel eyes are a few inches from his. "It's nine," she says quietly. "I brought breakfast."
Dean sits up and notices two things off the bat. Jacqui went shopping; she's dressed a lot better than before, and her hair is up in a high ponytail. "Finally awake, are we?" she teases gently.
Second, she's cleaning the guns.
"You're perfect," his mouth blurts before his brain kicks in. "Uh, I mean. You know how to... clean those... perfectly. Yeah, there's nowhere I can go with that, is there?"
She's smiling, which is better than the alternative. "Flatterer," she says, shaking her head. "Eat your breakfast."
As Dean munches on his bacon, he muses that he's comfortable with Jacqui. Things are easy with her; she brings him breakfast and gives him his coffee black. "Did we know each other?" he asks finally. "Like, met at the Roadhouse?"
"No," she says slowly. "I don't think so." She puts aside a cleaned gun. "Why?"
He shrugs one shoulder, taking a sip of his coffee while trying to think of a good answer. "I feel like I know you," he finally settles on.
Jacqui smiles, looking down. "Yeah, same." She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "Dude, eat faster. I want to get to Bobby's sooner rather than later."
It isn't until he's in the Impala and blazing a trail towards Sioux Falls that he realizes he never told her Bobby's name.
So how did she know it?
*
Bobby opens the door and gazes at the duo on his doorstep. "Whatever you two idjits are selling, I don't want any."
Dean rolls his eyes and pushes past him into the house, but Jacqui lingers in the doorway and offers him her hand. "Hi, Bobby, I'm S... Sorry for him. I'm Jacqui."
He takes her hand in a firm grip and shakes. "Welcome, and uh, excuse the mess." Jacqui smiles and follows Dean into the house. "So all my information on Boo Hags is over there. Start reading."
Jacqui immediately heads over to the desk and picks up the first book. "Definitely a Boo Hag," she murmurs, tapping a picture. "Looks familiar." Dean glances down at it.
"Ugly fucker," he comments, and she snorts.
Dean takes a few of the books and retreats to the armchair to read. He looks up occasionally to check on Jacqui, who always seems to know when he's doing it. She smiles each time he does, her dimples cutting into her cheeks. Bobby rolls his eyes whenever he catches them, but Jacqui doesn't seem to notice.
Ten minutes after opening the last book, Jacqui says, "I got it. Silver bullets. Silver bullets and salt and burn. Easiest time to kill a Boo Hag is if they're feeding... they straddle their victims and suck out their lives." She curls her lip. "Sounds like a Shtriga... Except for the part where Boo Hags carve the skin off of victims who struggle. And then wear it."
"Ew," Dean says, putting down his useless book. "So how do we get close enough to kill it?"
"Well, it knows my face, so... you'll have to go in." Jacqui doesn't look repentant, so Dean throws his pen at her. She catches it one-handed and without looking. She uses the pen to write down a few notes. "If we leave tomorrow... we can gank the bitch by the end of the weekend."
Bobby points with his bottle of beer and says to Dean, "I like her."
Dean scowls at both of them.
*
They leave her car at Bobby's, even though she puts up a hell of a fight. Dean grins to himself as Jacqui sulks in the front seat of the Impala. "Sorry," he offers.
Her eyes don't quite match up with her face as she sighs heavily. "Whatever," she says. "I knew it was too good to be true." Dean glances at her and her face goes through a myriad of expressions before arranging itself into a pout. "I love my car," she whines.
She reminds him very strongly of himself, so he lets himself laugh. "Do you know the rules?" he asks her, a minute or so later. She shakes her head and looks quizzically at him. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his - her - cakehole."
He's definitely not expecting her to punch him square in the arm. Though she looks a little on the scrawny side, she certainly packs a wallop, and Dean actually lets go of the wheel with one hand to rub the spot where she hit him. "Ow," he says reproachfully.
"Seriously, how do you keep a girl around with that sort of attitude?" she says indignantly. "Driver picks the music," she mocks, rolling her eyes. "Let me guess. Death metal?"
He's scandalized for a second before he realizes she's teasing him.
"Come on, seriously? You listen to Death Metal?" He's half pleading, half teasing.
She rolls her eyes. "I drive a vintage car. What do you think I listen to?"
He gives her another sidelong look. "I don't know," he says slowly. "Am I going to want to kick you out over the answer?"
Jacqui laughs at him, shaking her head. "I listen to vintage music, Dean. Promise."
Slowly, so as not to turn it up too loud, Dean turns on the tape deck. He keeps it to just below ear bleeding, and is pleased when AC/DC starts. He couldn't remember what tape he'd put in, but this one is a good one. They're both quiet, but he can hear her singing along with the song.
It's weirdly appropriate.
*
It takes them the better part of the day to reach the farmhouse with the Boo Hag. Jacqui gets a room in town and hands Dean a small broom. "If you stay at the bed and breakfast and sleep there, put this by your bed. The Boo Hag can't ride you if you do that."
He snickers. "That's what she said." Then he immediately groans when she slaps him across the stomach with the back of her hand.
"Be serious!" she scolds him. "This is one woman you don't want riding you."
Dean grins. "Hey, I'll call you when I get settled. Be ready, all right?"
Jacqui licks her lips and nods once. "All right. Be safe." Dean turns to leave the room, but she grabs his arm. "Dean?"
He looks back at her and suddenly she's kissing him. Dean doesn't waste time being surprised, just drags her closer and kisses back. Jacqui wraps her arms around his neck and presses her body against his. They slot together perfectly, and Dean swipes his tongue across her lower lip and she opens for him. "Jacqui?" he murmurs against her lips. She tastes like caramel, and when he pulls away the taste lingers on his lips.
"Seriously," she says firmly. "Be careful."
Dean grins. "I will." He closes the door carefully behind him and when he drives away in the Impala, he can see her standing in the window, watching him.
Author: Miss 'Drea
Artist: pixymisa
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/OFC, Dean/Sam, brief Sam/Trickster
Beta: selecasharp and blackcathollow
Word Count: 22100/20000
Warnings: Genderbending, angst, some show-level amount of gore
Summary: When the perfect woman shows up during Dean's latest hunt, he spends more time trying to catch her attention than he does solving the hunt. She hunts with him even though she has no idea what she's doing and he's all over that; he likes teaching. Everything is perfect. Except for when it isn't. She vanishes without a trace and then Dad goes missing right after. Dean thinks they're linked. (He has no idea.)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even a little bit. Title is from the Rune's poem.
Notes: Special thanks to selecasharp for coming up with my title, and for the beta and everything else. And to pixymisa, without whom I would have scrapped the story and dropped out of the entire bigbang out of writer's block frustration. Thanks, hon. <3 Mostly though, thank you for the dance.
| Prologue | 1 | Interlude I | 2 | Interlude II | 3 | Interlude III | Epilogue |
| Notes & Soundtrack | Art Post (coming soon!)|
| 1 |
THEN
Dean first sees her getting out of one of the most beautiful cars he's ever seen. It's a vintage Pontiac: a 1966 GTO, he can tell by the clean lines and the way it growls as it drives up to the diner. The car is a deep forest green with just enough depth to the color that it seems to shimmer and change in the bright sunlight. Dean has an extensive knowledge of cars, and he's never seen a GTO with that specific color before. It suits the car, and it suits her, and he wonders if the custom job was done by her or if she bought it that way.
His attention is on the beauty she drives so that he almost doesn't see her when she comes through the door. She's tall, taller than most women, and slender. Her hair is shoulder-length but wavy, and she has hazel eyes that seem to look right through him.
Literally, because even as he smiles at her, she's looking away and around. Dean shrugs to himself when she sits down with a short, smiling man a few feet away. At least he can look at her car.
He does, however, find his eyes straying over to where the mysterious woman with the GTO sits with her companion. He can't see her face, just the back of her head, and with the way her head is bowed, she looks sad.
Her companion looks amused, and finally he says something to her that gets a reaction other than the bowed head. She slams a hand down on the table between them and points a painted fingernail at him. Her voice is hushed though, and the guy she's sitting with laughs and says something else.
Dean finally stops dallying and stands, throwing some bills down on his table to pay for the coffee and the pie. As he turns toward the door, the woman whips around and stares at him. There's something in her eyes that Dean can't - and doesn't want to - read. Then it's gone and her face smooths out.
He smiles at her again, and her lips turn up in a small grin that shows him deep dimples that cut grooves into her cheeks. She stands too, and is just a little shorter than Dean is. "Hi," she says, holding out a hand. "I'm... Jacqui. Jacqui Greene."
Dean takes her hand with an even wider smile. "Hi, Jacqui Greene. I'm Dean Winchester."
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. "Hi there, Dean Winchester," she drawls, faintly accented. "I've been dreaming about you."
Dean is faintly surprised, but he can't say he hasn't heard that particular line before. "Oh yeah?" he asks, with a wide smirk.
There's a brief pause before she rolls her eyes. "Not like that," she complains. "Can we sit down, please?" It's something in her eyes that makes him say yes, and he leads her to the booth he'd just abandoned. "I'm sorry for just... springing this on you. But I don't know who else to ask."
"Ask what?" Dean asks, feeling lost.
She bites her lip, looking down into her lap for a moment. "I know what you are," she says, her voice low. "A hunter." When she looks up at him, her eyes are over-bright and she seems to gather her courage. "Just like my father. He's gone now."
Dean feels a pang of loss even though it's not his father she's talking about. "I'm sorry," he offers her.
"Don't be." She places her hands on the table, tapping her green-lacquered nails on the fake linoleum cover. "I don't know who else to turn to. He talked about your father, you know. John Winchester. And I thought, who better to help me than his son?" Dean blinks at her, trying to place her face and her name. He comes up blank, but his dad has so many contacts that Dean isn't really surprised that he doesn't know her.
He licks his lips before responding. "So what's the case?"
She pulls out her messenger bag and hands him a sealed manila folder. "I don't know what it is. I thought it was a Pagan god, a Scarecrow... but now I'm not sure. Whatever it is, it's killing travelers. I escaped, but my father..." She looks pained, looking down. "It skinned him alive."
Dean's seen a lot since he started hunting solo. The mental images still make him wince. "How'd your dad find the hunt?"
Jacqui shrugs one shoulder. "I don't usually hunt with him. I can shoot but, well... Dad never thought much of my abilities." Dean winces again, this time outwardly, thinking of Sam and the last huge fight he'd had with their father. "Anyway, he left me a voicemail at home, and it ended... well."
He holds up a hand. "I get it. Where?"
"North Dakota."
Dean snorted and she cracked a smile. "My uncle lives in South Dakota. We can get his input."
Jacqui bites her lip and nods. "So you'll help me?"
"Yeah, I'll help you. I saw your car. Follow me there." They get up together, and Dean holds the door open for her. He sees her glance behind them at the man who was sitting in the booth with her. The man, short with sandy brown hair, waves jauntily at them.
She grimaces but waves back.
"Good luck, kiddo!" the man calls over. "I'll be seeing you."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she mutters. Dean grins.
*
Up close, her car is even more gorgeous than he thought. The green is a deep forest color with a shine that makes it look blue when the sun hits it in certain ways. "You like cars?" he asks as she uses her hip to keep the door propped open.
"Dad did," she answers, running a hand down the side of the window. "This was his." Her glance is fond as she looks over the car. "It's a little flashy, though." Dean laughs, and she shoots him a grin. "Every time I get stopped, though, it's really easy to get out of tickets."
"Oh yeah?" Dean asks. "How?"
"I have boobs," Jacqui says simply.
Dean nearly hyperventilates, he laughs so hard. "What happens if it's a female cop?"
She flashes him another smile before getting into the car. "Wouldn't you like to know." When she closes the door, she nearly takes off his fingers, but she waits for him at the edge of the road. As they drive, Dean phones Bobby, calculating the time difference as he does. It's about noon where Bobby is, so he answers on the first ring.
"Yeah?"
"Hey, Bobby, it's me," Dean says. "I've got a hunt for you to research." Bobby is silent but Dean can hear him rustling around his messy desk for a pen and paper. "You ready?"
"Yeah. Hit me."
Dean outlines the background quickly, the girl and her hunt. "It seems like the creature skins them alive, but I don't know what it does with them after. She... well, she had pictures of human skin spread out on a roof, like it was drying." He shudders. "Any thoughts?"
Bobby thinks for a minute. "It sounds like a Boo Hag."
Frowning, Dean makes a mental note to look in his journal. "Boo Hag? I thought those were specifically native to the Carolinas?"
"Typically, they are, but Boo Hags probably don't adhere to state lines." Bobby's voice is dry and Dean can hear him flipping through books. "Where's the hunt supposed to be?"
"North Dakota."
He can hear Bobby's nonverbal surprise through the cell phone. "That's pretty far from the Carolinas..." he murmurs. "I'll figure out something. I'll call you." The line goes dead and Dean tosses his cell onto the passenger side of his car. It's only been a few months since Sammy had left him, and the other side of his car still seems so empty without his gigantic brother to sit there.
As soon as the cell lands on the seat it goes off again, and Dean nearly dislocates his elbow trying to snatch it back up. It's never Sam, but he always hopes. It's the number that Jacqui plugged into his phone and he answers with a smile. "What's up?"
"We should consolidate cars," she says promptly. "That way we don't have to keep calling each other. We should take mine."
Dean is horrified. "I would never leave my baby!"
He can practically hear the face she makes. "Well," she says lightly, "it was worth a try."
"You were testing me?" Dean asks incredulously. "You bitch!"
She's smirking, he knows it. "You started it. Jerk." Dean laughs until he realizes that she isn't Sam, and though logically Sam has no claim on calling him a jerk, it's not the same.
"We'll talk about it at dinner," he says abruptly. "Don't talk on the phone and drive."
Jacqui snorts. "Yes, Dad."
They hang up, and Dean throws the phone again. It's not Sam, it's never Sam.
It's never going to be Sam.
*
It's not until they stop for the night that they realize how potentially awkward their hunting together is going to be. "Two queens or a king?" the boy with a lip piercing behind the counter says.
"Uh," Dean says inelegantly, glancing sideways at Jacqui. He was just going to get two queens but now that he's faced with the decision, he's not sure how Jacqui would feel about that.
"Two queens," she says firmly. "Thank you." She even pays while Dean is still standing a little shocked. She pulls him by the sleeve to their room and says, "I'm not a delicate flower and we can't afford two rooms." She automatically takes the bed farthest from the door and puts down her bag. "So calm down, okay?"
Dean grins. "Just don't molest me in my sleep."
Her eyebrow raises. "Isn't that my line?" He winces. "I don't actually think you're going to molest me in my sleep," she clarifies quickly. "Okay, so I haven't shared a room with a guy since, uh... prom. But you can have first shower."
As soon as the words leave her mouth, she rubs her forehead with her palm and Dean laughs. She's so awkward it's actually cute. And, like everything else, it reminds him of Sam.
Her own giggles fade as suddenly as his do, and she says, "Are you... okay?"
"Yeah, sure, why?" Dean says quickly, sitting on the bed hard.
Jacqui snorts and sits down next to him. "Dude, that was so unconvincing I'm actually ashamed of you. Try again." Dean doesn't answer; just because Jacqui is a girl doesn't mean he wants to go around having chick flick moments all the time. Astonishingly, Jacqui's face softens and she reaches over to touch his leg. "Who did you lose?" Dean shoots her a startled glance. Is he that easy to read?
She doesn't push him though, just leaves her hand warm on his knee. Eventually, the silence stretches long enough that her hand stops being idle and she begins painting designs with her fingertips along the top of his leg. The touch isn't sexual though, just soothing, and Dean relaxes. "My brother," he says in the silence.
Her fingers twitch where they are on his leg. "I lost my brother too," she murmurs. "Probably a lot longer ago than it seems."
And then it's awkward again.
*
Dean wakes up to a pillow in the face. Jacqui is standing over him, coffee in one hand and the pillow in the other. "Are you up yet?" she asks, offering the coffee and a smile. "Because it's almost six."
"Six... in the morning?" he mutters groggily. "Fuck you, I'm going back to sleep."
"If we leave now, we'll get to Bobby's by lunchtime," she points out.
He does give it half a moment of thought before rolling over and pulling the bedspread over his head. "Nope," he says, muffled by his pillow. "Wake me in three hours."
She huffs out an impatient sigh but leaves him be. A second later, the door to the motel room opens and closes softly. Dean glances up quickly and sees she's left, but the travel mug of coffee is sitting on his bedside table. He falls back asleep with a smile.
When he wakes up again, there is the smell of bacon and coffee, and when he opens his eyes, Jacqui's hazel eyes are a few inches from his. "It's nine," she says quietly. "I brought breakfast."
Dean sits up and notices two things off the bat. Jacqui went shopping; she's dressed a lot better than before, and her hair is up in a high ponytail. "Finally awake, are we?" she teases gently.
Second, she's cleaning the guns.
"You're perfect," his mouth blurts before his brain kicks in. "Uh, I mean. You know how to... clean those... perfectly. Yeah, there's nowhere I can go with that, is there?"
She's smiling, which is better than the alternative. "Flatterer," she says, shaking her head. "Eat your breakfast."
As Dean munches on his bacon, he muses that he's comfortable with Jacqui. Things are easy with her; she brings him breakfast and gives him his coffee black. "Did we know each other?" he asks finally. "Like, met at the Roadhouse?"
"No," she says slowly. "I don't think so." She puts aside a cleaned gun. "Why?"
He shrugs one shoulder, taking a sip of his coffee while trying to think of a good answer. "I feel like I know you," he finally settles on.
Jacqui smiles, looking down. "Yeah, same." She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "Dude, eat faster. I want to get to Bobby's sooner rather than later."
It isn't until he's in the Impala and blazing a trail towards Sioux Falls that he realizes he never told her Bobby's name.
So how did she know it?
*
Bobby opens the door and gazes at the duo on his doorstep. "Whatever you two idjits are selling, I don't want any."
Dean rolls his eyes and pushes past him into the house, but Jacqui lingers in the doorway and offers him her hand. "Hi, Bobby, I'm S... Sorry for him. I'm Jacqui."
He takes her hand in a firm grip and shakes. "Welcome, and uh, excuse the mess." Jacqui smiles and follows Dean into the house. "So all my information on Boo Hags is over there. Start reading."
Jacqui immediately heads over to the desk and picks up the first book. "Definitely a Boo Hag," she murmurs, tapping a picture. "Looks familiar." Dean glances down at it.
"Ugly fucker," he comments, and she snorts.
Dean takes a few of the books and retreats to the armchair to read. He looks up occasionally to check on Jacqui, who always seems to know when he's doing it. She smiles each time he does, her dimples cutting into her cheeks. Bobby rolls his eyes whenever he catches them, but Jacqui doesn't seem to notice.
Ten minutes after opening the last book, Jacqui says, "I got it. Silver bullets. Silver bullets and salt and burn. Easiest time to kill a Boo Hag is if they're feeding... they straddle their victims and suck out their lives." She curls her lip. "Sounds like a Shtriga... Except for the part where Boo Hags carve the skin off of victims who struggle. And then wear it."
"Ew," Dean says, putting down his useless book. "So how do we get close enough to kill it?"
"Well, it knows my face, so... you'll have to go in." Jacqui doesn't look repentant, so Dean throws his pen at her. She catches it one-handed and without looking. She uses the pen to write down a few notes. "If we leave tomorrow... we can gank the bitch by the end of the weekend."
Bobby points with his bottle of beer and says to Dean, "I like her."
Dean scowls at both of them.
*
They leave her car at Bobby's, even though she puts up a hell of a fight. Dean grins to himself as Jacqui sulks in the front seat of the Impala. "Sorry," he offers.
Her eyes don't quite match up with her face as she sighs heavily. "Whatever," she says. "I knew it was too good to be true." Dean glances at her and her face goes through a myriad of expressions before arranging itself into a pout. "I love my car," she whines.
She reminds him very strongly of himself, so he lets himself laugh. "Do you know the rules?" he asks her, a minute or so later. She shakes her head and looks quizzically at him. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his - her - cakehole."
He's definitely not expecting her to punch him square in the arm. Though she looks a little on the scrawny side, she certainly packs a wallop, and Dean actually lets go of the wheel with one hand to rub the spot where she hit him. "Ow," he says reproachfully.
"Seriously, how do you keep a girl around with that sort of attitude?" she says indignantly. "Driver picks the music," she mocks, rolling her eyes. "Let me guess. Death metal?"
He's scandalized for a second before he realizes she's teasing him.
"Come on, seriously? You listen to Death Metal?" He's half pleading, half teasing.
She rolls her eyes. "I drive a vintage car. What do you think I listen to?"
He gives her another sidelong look. "I don't know," he says slowly. "Am I going to want to kick you out over the answer?"
Jacqui laughs at him, shaking her head. "I listen to vintage music, Dean. Promise."
Slowly, so as not to turn it up too loud, Dean turns on the tape deck. He keeps it to just below ear bleeding, and is pleased when AC/DC starts. He couldn't remember what tape he'd put in, but this one is a good one. They're both quiet, but he can hear her singing along with the song.
It's weirdly appropriate.
*
It takes them the better part of the day to reach the farmhouse with the Boo Hag. Jacqui gets a room in town and hands Dean a small broom. "If you stay at the bed and breakfast and sleep there, put this by your bed. The Boo Hag can't ride you if you do that."
He snickers. "That's what she said." Then he immediately groans when she slaps him across the stomach with the back of her hand.
"Be serious!" she scolds him. "This is one woman you don't want riding you."
Dean grins. "Hey, I'll call you when I get settled. Be ready, all right?"
Jacqui licks her lips and nods once. "All right. Be safe." Dean turns to leave the room, but she grabs his arm. "Dean?"
He looks back at her and suddenly she's kissing him. Dean doesn't waste time being surprised, just drags her closer and kisses back. Jacqui wraps her arms around his neck and presses her body against his. They slot together perfectly, and Dean swipes his tongue across her lower lip and she opens for him. "Jacqui?" he murmurs against her lips. She tastes like caramel, and when he pulls away the taste lingers on his lips.
"Seriously," she says firmly. "Be careful."
Dean grins. "I will." He closes the door carefully behind him and when he drives away in the Impala, he can see her standing in the window, watching him.