Fic: Three's Company Too 3/7
They drove through the rest of the night, and Jess slept in short spurts with her head bouncing uncomfortably against the window of the car. Sam seemed to be pretty conked out as far as she could tell, which she was grateful for. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. On more than one occasion in the last week, she had woken late at night to find him sitting in front of a muted TV in their living room, claiming insomnia. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it beyond that, but it still worried her.
By the time they stopped at a gas station, the sun had broken the horizon and Jess was feeling sore and cranky from her interrupted night. As Dean fuelled up the car, Jess stepped out to take a walk around and stretch out her kinks. Sam had awoken and was pawing through a cardboard box that contained a collection of cassette tapes.
“Seriously?” Jess asked, leaning against the car to take a look at Dean’s music collection. “Cassette tapes?”
“Dean’s music taste is a little… dated,” Sam explained.
“You mean classic,” Dean corrected, swaggering towards the car with a bag of chips and candy in his hands. “Anyone up for breakfast?” He made a move to toss the chips in Sam’s direction.
Jess scrunched up her nose. “You’re kidding me. I’m not eating that for breakfast.”
Dean frowned. “You think I want to take the time to stop anywhere else?”
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” she answered pertly. “Besides, what’s twenty minutes give or take? We’ll be able to work better if we’re well fed.”
In the end, her win had more to do with several vivid descriptions of bacon and eggs rather than her sense of logic; but she still held her head high as they walked into the small roadside diner.
Sam scooted in next to her as they sat at their booth, and she wriggled closer, relishing the feel of his warmth thigh against hers.
“This is going to be quick,” Dean muttered to them as their waitress filled coffee cups and passed out menus. “Get some food and then back on the road.” He grabbed his cup almost before the waitress had finished filling it and took a huge gulp.
Jess took her time with her own cup. She opened two small containers of cream delicately and poured one full one and another half into her mug. Then, she passed the half-empty container to Sam for him to use. It had been a silly ritual born from their first sort-of date that had continued every time they got coffee together.
Dean watched the performance with a smirk. “Really, Sam? What else do you two share? Matching bra and panty sets?”
“Laugh all you want, Dean. We both know that’s not the reason why I’ve seen one of those sets a lot more recently than you have. And on a real girl, too, not the TV.”
Woman’s Studies be damned, Jess really wanted to give her boyfriend a win right now. So instead of smacking him and vowing to cut him off from future viewing for the next millennium, she grinned and gifted him with a healthy kiss until Dean groaned loud enough to stop them.
“I’m about to eat,” he reminded the two of them. “And the last thing I want right now is a graphic visual of my little brother sucking face.”
“Turnabout’s fair play, Dean,” Sam replied mildly. Then, he turned to give their returning waitress a brilliant smile. “Hi, I’ll have the blueberry pancakes, side of sausage.”
“Oatmeal. And a fruit salad.”
“Breakfast platter. Whole wheat toast, eggs Sunny Side up, extra bacon.”
Orders dispatched, Jess leaned back in her seat and took a delicate sip of coffee. “So what do you have on the case so far? Sam didn’t give me a lot of details last night.”
Dean pulled a file folder out of his jacket and pushed it towards her. “String of disappearances over the last twenty years. Same stretch of highway.”
“Have you looked into the history of the road at all?”
Dean snorted. “I’ve got a hell of a lot more experience than you, sweetheart, so don’t ask me stupid questions. There’s nothing on the road based off an online search. We’ll have to check the local archives when we get to Jericho.”
“What else do you want to do? Talk to witnesses or family members at all?”
“Usually,” Dean nodded. “I’m thinking of going with Marshals on this one.”
“Really?” Jess crinkled her nose. “FBI usually buys you more of a right to ask weird questions.”
Dean scowled. “Sure,” he agreed. “But I don’t have my suit with me, and I’m guessing you or Sammy don’t have anything appropriate packed either.”
“I guess,” she grumbled.
Dean stood, straightening his coat. “You look over the file. I’ll be back.”
Jess fingered the pages as he swaggered towards the bathrooms, and then she glanced over at Sam.
“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of quiet.”
Sam shook his head. “I’m just not used to seeing you like this. Talking about impersonating the FBI to interview witnesses? That’s something that belongs to Dean and my Dad. Not you.”
“It’s what any good hunter would do, Sam,” Jess reminded him gently. “I’m just trying to do a good job so we can find your dad.”
Sam still shook his head. “How did I completely miss this side of you?” he wondered. “You suspected that I had a hunting background for a while now. So, what, I was just clueless?”
“Not exactly clueless,” Jess began cautiously. “Just… I dunno, Sam, sometimes it seemed like you didn’t really see me.”
He stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing bad, Sam, honest. It’s just that sometimes I think you kind of had this perfect image of me in your head that you used. And sometimes you ignored what was in front of you in favour of that picture. Which is sort of flattering, in a way,” she rushed to explain. “Who doesn’t want her boyfriend to think she’s a perfect lady even if she does leave dirty dishes everywhere and insist on iron bolts for the front door?”
“So, you mean that I didn’t pay attention to you? That I have some fake image of you in my head that was completely wrong?”
“No, not completely wrong! Just… certain aspects of my life have never really come up until now and…” She was backpedalling desperately at this point and had no clear idea of how she was going to get out.
“Well, clearly, those ‘certain aspects’ include pretending to be the FBI. Got any fake credit cards in your wallet as well?”
“Sam,” she spoke patiently. “My dad was a hunter. He taught me stuff. I went on hunts with him. But that whole lifestyle… It’s never been me. I don’t know if it ever could be me. And, okay, maybe I’ve been a little more bold about the whole thing than I’ve been in the past. But I just want to make sure you and Dean know that I can carry my own weight. I’m here to help, not drag you guys down.”
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as Dean returned to the table.
“Any theories yet?” he asked Jess.
“No, not yet,” she apologized.
“Dude, you were only gone for, like, two minutes. Give her a break.”
“Whatever,” Dean shrugged. “I just want to get on this, you know?”
“Well, based off what little I know, I’d say we’re looking for a ghost,” Jess offered.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, frowning a little.
Their food arrived, and the next couple minutes were spent shuffling plates and organizing cutlery. Jess was already halfway through her oatmeal before Sam voiced what Dean was clearly thinking and what Jess had wondered.
“Dad’s too experienced of a hunter to run into trouble on a simple ghost case.”
Jess squeezed his hand. “You think it’s something more?”
“I dunno,” Sam shrugged.
“Well, we’ll just have to be extra careful. Stick close together and watch each other’s backs.”
The two brothers nodded vaguely in response, and Jess took the opportunity to snag a piece of Dean’s bacon.
“Hey!” His fork defended his plate with wendigo-fast reflexes. “You want bacon, you order your own.”
“I just want one piece,” she pouted, giving him a double helping of the look that won her many a free drink in the past.
“Nice try,” Dean snorted. “But your Sammy’s girl, and that puts you firmly in the no-flirt zone. You ever want to change that, just give me a call.”
Sam snorted. “I think that qualifies as flirting, Dean.”
Jess was still pouting over her lack of bacon, so Sam slid his plate of sausage in her direction. She smiled, and popped a small piece in her mouth.
“Are you serious?” Dean scoffed. “You’re so whipped, Sam.”
“And yet,” Jess paused, making sure she had swallowed all of her sausage, “he’s the only one who’s gonna be viewing my aforementioned matching bra and panty set.” She smiled cheekily across to him and he rolled his eyes.
Then, he took a big bite of bacon.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They had been back on the road for about an hour when Sam, prompted by a few grunts and a nudge from Dean, made calls first to the city hospital and then to the morgue. Jess watched in fascination as he smoothly carried on a conversation as Bud Williams, constable for Union City, who was unofficially looking for a missing person. Sure, she had always recognized that Sam wasn’t exactly an open book with his friends at Stanford, but she had never realized exactly how skilled he was at guiding a conversation, gently steering it in the direction he wanted to go. Sam got the information he needed quickly, and then ended the conversation before anyone could get too suspicious.
“No one matching his description,” he announced quietly, closing his phone. “Which is something, I guess.”
Dean gave a small nod, which Sam returned. Jess felt like she needed an interpreter to understand them. Or maybe subtitles. Any amount of tension that had existed between the two brothers last night was very quickly fading away into this effortless nonverbal communication that intrigued her more than the possibility of a ghost hunt.
“Check it out,” Dean pointed. They were coming up to a bridge, which had several police cars parked nearby, and was crawling with members of the Sherriff’s Department. Up ahead on the actual bridge, Jess could make out a civilian car marked out with crime scene tape.
Dean pulled the car over on the side of the road, and grabbed a cigar box out of his multipurpose glove box. He rifled through it, and Jess caught flashes of several official-looking identifications before he pulled out a leather-looking bifold.
“Marshals?” Jess asked.
“Yep,” Dean replied shortly, swinging the car door open and climbing out.
Shaking his head in a way that said ‘I disapprove of this, but I’m not surprised’, Sam exited out his own side. At least Jess could still read some of Sam’s silent communication.
She followed the boys to the bridge, all three of them silent as one of the officers was finishing up a phone call.
“No, Amy, we haven’t found anything yet. You sound exhausted, sweetie, why don’t you take a break? I’m sure you’ve got lots of posters up already, and the best thing you can do right now is take care of yourself. Yeah, alright. Love you.” He pocketed his phone, and then turned to the eavesdropping trio. “Can I help you?”
“Here on official business,” Dean replied, flashing his badge. “You had another one just like this last month didn’t you?” he started circling the car, and the two officers close by watched him carefully.
The man who hadn’t been taking up police time with personal phone calls narrowed his eyes slightly. “You three are a little young for Marshals, aren’t you?”
Dean brushed the comment off with a cocky grin and a short laugh. “Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you.”
Jess stifled a snort. Apparently, Dean was just as skilled at misdirection as Sam. Although that should be no real surprise. They had both had the same teacher. Not for the first time, Jess wondered what sort of man John Winchester was.
Dean was fully committing to his role as federal officer. He strode around the crime scene with confidence, hands clasped behind his back. Sam trailed behind slightly, and Jess remained anchored at her spot on the bridge, content to watch the teamwork between the brothers.
“You did have another just like this, correct?”
“Yeah, that’s right. About a mile up the road. There’ve been others before that.”
Jess shivered at the thought. John Winchester had a list of about ten names. And there might have been even more that didn’t reach the attention of the police.
“So this victim…” Sam began
Jess smiled. Trust Sam to bring it back to the person who was hurt.
“You knew him,” he guessed.
The deputy nodded. “Town like this, everybody knows everybody.”
“There any connection between the victims besides that they’re all men?” Dean called from behind the car.
“No,” the deputy replied quickly, and seemed vaguely irritated.
“So what’s the theory?” Sam asked, stepping closer to the car.
“We don’t know,” the deputy replied shortly. “Serial murder? Kidnapping ring? That’s something you and your FBI pals can discuss.”
“Well, that’s exactly the kind of crack police work I’d expect out of you g-” Dean was cut off abruptly by his brother’s foot stomping on top of his own.
“Thank you for your time,” Sam replied stiffly. “Gentlemen.” He nodded to the two officers, and he and Dean began to walk away.
Jess hung back for a moment, turning to the deputy. “What did you mean by FBI pals?”
“We just finished briefing a couple of them on the whole situation. Tell me, how am I supposed to solve this thing when I have to spend all my time telling federal agents the exact same thing over and over again?”
“Sorry,” Jess shrugged. “You know how bureaucracy works.”
She jogged across the bridge to catch up with Sam and Dean. As she came closer, she heard the tail end of their conversation.
“We’ve got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves,” Dean was telling Sam, clearly convinced of the uselessness of the local law enforcement.
“But maybe a little more carefully than we had planned,” Jess interjected. “The FBI’s already in town. It could give us trouble.”
“Not as much trouble as it would be if we decided to pretend we were FBI,” Dean smirked at her.
“Whatever,” she brushed off. “I don’t know about you, but I think our next move is pretty clear. We-”
“Have to talk to Amy,” Sam and Dean cut her off in unison.
“Right,” she blinked. “That wasn’t creepy at all. Let’s head into town and see if we can find her. Small town like this, it shouldn’t be too hard.”
As they all headed back to the car, Jess put herself deliberately in the rear so she could watch the brothers. God, even their steps were starting to synchronize. Which was actually kind of adorable.
Like she’d ever tell them that.
Chapter Four
By the time they stopped at a gas station, the sun had broken the horizon and Jess was feeling sore and cranky from her interrupted night. As Dean fuelled up the car, Jess stepped out to take a walk around and stretch out her kinks. Sam had awoken and was pawing through a cardboard box that contained a collection of cassette tapes.
“Seriously?” Jess asked, leaning against the car to take a look at Dean’s music collection. “Cassette tapes?”
“Dean’s music taste is a little… dated,” Sam explained.
“You mean classic,” Dean corrected, swaggering towards the car with a bag of chips and candy in his hands. “Anyone up for breakfast?” He made a move to toss the chips in Sam’s direction.
Jess scrunched up her nose. “You’re kidding me. I’m not eating that for breakfast.”
Dean frowned. “You think I want to take the time to stop anywhere else?”
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” she answered pertly. “Besides, what’s twenty minutes give or take? We’ll be able to work better if we’re well fed.”
In the end, her win had more to do with several vivid descriptions of bacon and eggs rather than her sense of logic; but she still held her head high as they walked into the small roadside diner.
Sam scooted in next to her as they sat at their booth, and she wriggled closer, relishing the feel of his warmth thigh against hers.
“This is going to be quick,” Dean muttered to them as their waitress filled coffee cups and passed out menus. “Get some food and then back on the road.” He grabbed his cup almost before the waitress had finished filling it and took a huge gulp.
Jess took her time with her own cup. She opened two small containers of cream delicately and poured one full one and another half into her mug. Then, she passed the half-empty container to Sam for him to use. It had been a silly ritual born from their first sort-of date that had continued every time they got coffee together.
Dean watched the performance with a smirk. “Really, Sam? What else do you two share? Matching bra and panty sets?”
“Laugh all you want, Dean. We both know that’s not the reason why I’ve seen one of those sets a lot more recently than you have. And on a real girl, too, not the TV.”
Woman’s Studies be damned, Jess really wanted to give her boyfriend a win right now. So instead of smacking him and vowing to cut him off from future viewing for the next millennium, she grinned and gifted him with a healthy kiss until Dean groaned loud enough to stop them.
“I’m about to eat,” he reminded the two of them. “And the last thing I want right now is a graphic visual of my little brother sucking face.”
“Turnabout’s fair play, Dean,” Sam replied mildly. Then, he turned to give their returning waitress a brilliant smile. “Hi, I’ll have the blueberry pancakes, side of sausage.”
“Oatmeal. And a fruit salad.”
“Breakfast platter. Whole wheat toast, eggs Sunny Side up, extra bacon.”
Orders dispatched, Jess leaned back in her seat and took a delicate sip of coffee. “So what do you have on the case so far? Sam didn’t give me a lot of details last night.”
Dean pulled a file folder out of his jacket and pushed it towards her. “String of disappearances over the last twenty years. Same stretch of highway.”
“Have you looked into the history of the road at all?”
Dean snorted. “I’ve got a hell of a lot more experience than you, sweetheart, so don’t ask me stupid questions. There’s nothing on the road based off an online search. We’ll have to check the local archives when we get to Jericho.”
“What else do you want to do? Talk to witnesses or family members at all?”
“Usually,” Dean nodded. “I’m thinking of going with Marshals on this one.”
“Really?” Jess crinkled her nose. “FBI usually buys you more of a right to ask weird questions.”
Dean scowled. “Sure,” he agreed. “But I don’t have my suit with me, and I’m guessing you or Sammy don’t have anything appropriate packed either.”
“I guess,” she grumbled.
Dean stood, straightening his coat. “You look over the file. I’ll be back.”
Jess fingered the pages as he swaggered towards the bathrooms, and then she glanced over at Sam.
“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of quiet.”
Sam shook his head. “I’m just not used to seeing you like this. Talking about impersonating the FBI to interview witnesses? That’s something that belongs to Dean and my Dad. Not you.”
“It’s what any good hunter would do, Sam,” Jess reminded him gently. “I’m just trying to do a good job so we can find your dad.”
Sam still shook his head. “How did I completely miss this side of you?” he wondered. “You suspected that I had a hunting background for a while now. So, what, I was just clueless?”
“Not exactly clueless,” Jess began cautiously. “Just… I dunno, Sam, sometimes it seemed like you didn’t really see me.”
He stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing bad, Sam, honest. It’s just that sometimes I think you kind of had this perfect image of me in your head that you used. And sometimes you ignored what was in front of you in favour of that picture. Which is sort of flattering, in a way,” she rushed to explain. “Who doesn’t want her boyfriend to think she’s a perfect lady even if she does leave dirty dishes everywhere and insist on iron bolts for the front door?”
“So, you mean that I didn’t pay attention to you? That I have some fake image of you in my head that was completely wrong?”
“No, not completely wrong! Just… certain aspects of my life have never really come up until now and…” She was backpedalling desperately at this point and had no clear idea of how she was going to get out.
“Well, clearly, those ‘certain aspects’ include pretending to be the FBI. Got any fake credit cards in your wallet as well?”
“Sam,” she spoke patiently. “My dad was a hunter. He taught me stuff. I went on hunts with him. But that whole lifestyle… It’s never been me. I don’t know if it ever could be me. And, okay, maybe I’ve been a little more bold about the whole thing than I’ve been in the past. But I just want to make sure you and Dean know that I can carry my own weight. I’m here to help, not drag you guys down.”
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as Dean returned to the table.
“Any theories yet?” he asked Jess.
“No, not yet,” she apologized.
“Dude, you were only gone for, like, two minutes. Give her a break.”
“Whatever,” Dean shrugged. “I just want to get on this, you know?”
“Well, based off what little I know, I’d say we’re looking for a ghost,” Jess offered.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, frowning a little.
Their food arrived, and the next couple minutes were spent shuffling plates and organizing cutlery. Jess was already halfway through her oatmeal before Sam voiced what Dean was clearly thinking and what Jess had wondered.
“Dad’s too experienced of a hunter to run into trouble on a simple ghost case.”
Jess squeezed his hand. “You think it’s something more?”
“I dunno,” Sam shrugged.
“Well, we’ll just have to be extra careful. Stick close together and watch each other’s backs.”
The two brothers nodded vaguely in response, and Jess took the opportunity to snag a piece of Dean’s bacon.
“Hey!” His fork defended his plate with wendigo-fast reflexes. “You want bacon, you order your own.”
“I just want one piece,” she pouted, giving him a double helping of the look that won her many a free drink in the past.
“Nice try,” Dean snorted. “But your Sammy’s girl, and that puts you firmly in the no-flirt zone. You ever want to change that, just give me a call.”
Sam snorted. “I think that qualifies as flirting, Dean.”
Jess was still pouting over her lack of bacon, so Sam slid his plate of sausage in her direction. She smiled, and popped a small piece in her mouth.
“Are you serious?” Dean scoffed. “You’re so whipped, Sam.”
“And yet,” Jess paused, making sure she had swallowed all of her sausage, “he’s the only one who’s gonna be viewing my aforementioned matching bra and panty set.” She smiled cheekily across to him and he rolled his eyes.
Then, he took a big bite of bacon.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They had been back on the road for about an hour when Sam, prompted by a few grunts and a nudge from Dean, made calls first to the city hospital and then to the morgue. Jess watched in fascination as he smoothly carried on a conversation as Bud Williams, constable for Union City, who was unofficially looking for a missing person. Sure, she had always recognized that Sam wasn’t exactly an open book with his friends at Stanford, but she had never realized exactly how skilled he was at guiding a conversation, gently steering it in the direction he wanted to go. Sam got the information he needed quickly, and then ended the conversation before anyone could get too suspicious.
“No one matching his description,” he announced quietly, closing his phone. “Which is something, I guess.”
Dean gave a small nod, which Sam returned. Jess felt like she needed an interpreter to understand them. Or maybe subtitles. Any amount of tension that had existed between the two brothers last night was very quickly fading away into this effortless nonverbal communication that intrigued her more than the possibility of a ghost hunt.
“Check it out,” Dean pointed. They were coming up to a bridge, which had several police cars parked nearby, and was crawling with members of the Sherriff’s Department. Up ahead on the actual bridge, Jess could make out a civilian car marked out with crime scene tape.
Dean pulled the car over on the side of the road, and grabbed a cigar box out of his multipurpose glove box. He rifled through it, and Jess caught flashes of several official-looking identifications before he pulled out a leather-looking bifold.
“Marshals?” Jess asked.
“Yep,” Dean replied shortly, swinging the car door open and climbing out.
Shaking his head in a way that said ‘I disapprove of this, but I’m not surprised’, Sam exited out his own side. At least Jess could still read some of Sam’s silent communication.
She followed the boys to the bridge, all three of them silent as one of the officers was finishing up a phone call.
“No, Amy, we haven’t found anything yet. You sound exhausted, sweetie, why don’t you take a break? I’m sure you’ve got lots of posters up already, and the best thing you can do right now is take care of yourself. Yeah, alright. Love you.” He pocketed his phone, and then turned to the eavesdropping trio. “Can I help you?”
“Here on official business,” Dean replied, flashing his badge. “You had another one just like this last month didn’t you?” he started circling the car, and the two officers close by watched him carefully.
The man who hadn’t been taking up police time with personal phone calls narrowed his eyes slightly. “You three are a little young for Marshals, aren’t you?”
Dean brushed the comment off with a cocky grin and a short laugh. “Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you.”
Jess stifled a snort. Apparently, Dean was just as skilled at misdirection as Sam. Although that should be no real surprise. They had both had the same teacher. Not for the first time, Jess wondered what sort of man John Winchester was.
Dean was fully committing to his role as federal officer. He strode around the crime scene with confidence, hands clasped behind his back. Sam trailed behind slightly, and Jess remained anchored at her spot on the bridge, content to watch the teamwork between the brothers.
“You did have another just like this, correct?”
“Yeah, that’s right. About a mile up the road. There’ve been others before that.”
Jess shivered at the thought. John Winchester had a list of about ten names. And there might have been even more that didn’t reach the attention of the police.
“So this victim…” Sam began
Jess smiled. Trust Sam to bring it back to the person who was hurt.
“You knew him,” he guessed.
The deputy nodded. “Town like this, everybody knows everybody.”
“There any connection between the victims besides that they’re all men?” Dean called from behind the car.
“No,” the deputy replied quickly, and seemed vaguely irritated.
“So what’s the theory?” Sam asked, stepping closer to the car.
“We don’t know,” the deputy replied shortly. “Serial murder? Kidnapping ring? That’s something you and your FBI pals can discuss.”
“Well, that’s exactly the kind of crack police work I’d expect out of you g-” Dean was cut off abruptly by his brother’s foot stomping on top of his own.
“Thank you for your time,” Sam replied stiffly. “Gentlemen.” He nodded to the two officers, and he and Dean began to walk away.
Jess hung back for a moment, turning to the deputy. “What did you mean by FBI pals?”
“We just finished briefing a couple of them on the whole situation. Tell me, how am I supposed to solve this thing when I have to spend all my time telling federal agents the exact same thing over and over again?”
“Sorry,” Jess shrugged. “You know how bureaucracy works.”
She jogged across the bridge to catch up with Sam and Dean. As she came closer, she heard the tail end of their conversation.
“We’ve got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves,” Dean was telling Sam, clearly convinced of the uselessness of the local law enforcement.
“But maybe a little more carefully than we had planned,” Jess interjected. “The FBI’s already in town. It could give us trouble.”
“Not as much trouble as it would be if we decided to pretend we were FBI,” Dean smirked at her.
“Whatever,” she brushed off. “I don’t know about you, but I think our next move is pretty clear. We-”
“Have to talk to Amy,” Sam and Dean cut her off in unison.
“Right,” she blinked. “That wasn’t creepy at all. Let’s head into town and see if we can find her. Small town like this, it shouldn’t be too hard.”
As they all headed back to the car, Jess put herself deliberately in the rear so she could watch the brothers. God, even their steps were starting to synchronize. Which was actually kind of adorable.
Like she’d ever tell them that.
Chapter Four