Supernatural: Next Generation

- THEN -

NOW

It was late afternoon by the time the GTO needed another fill-up, and hunger scraped at their insides enough to pull over at a massive truck-stop off of I-80, somewhere in Ohio that Claire couldn’t remember ever being. The drive had been tense, but then again--so had the whole trip. With an unknown destination and a deadline fast approaching, the missing time earlier that afternoon was just another piece of the whole goddamned puzzle.

Through the open window, the tinny sound system in the GTO filled the background of highway traffic and eighteen wheelers hissing their air brakes. Claire cracked open the bottle of water in her hands. She was crouched next to Ben, who was sitting on the passenger side bench seat, bruised and bloodied knuckles held out from between his knees. She was gentle in her touch and her silence, and supported one of his palms with her own while half the water doused away crusted blood and bits of bark.

Ben clenched his teeth to keep from wincing. Jesse had been extremely close-lipped the moment they got back in the car from the woods, and that only made him more nervous. He wasn’t telling them something. Knowing that ate at him. Not only that, but it filled him with a deep sense of guilt. They’d never told Claire about the Trickster; he could understand keeping the hookers thing between them, but Ben was starting to doubt keeping a hunt from her.

“You think any are broken?” she asked him quietly, drenching the other hand until the water stopped dripping pink. She was distracted, obviously--they all were--but Claire had been ordering herself to keep what she did know in a carefully orchestrated line of priorities in her mind. It was her default method of operation, not just for hunts, but life in general. It was a task that had become much harder in the last few months...

“I don’t think so,” Ben answered, feeling that same twist in his stomach as he thought about his no-longer-broken ribs. He took a breath, then let it out. ( “I gotta tell ya somethin’.” )

***

For a Super-Target in the middle of nowhere, this place certainly was crowded. Claire narrowly avoided being barrelled over by three identical pint-sized soccer players fresh from some glorious victory, rounding out of the cereal aisle with their exhausted looking mother. Triplets. “God help that woman...” she admired over her shoulder, half speaking to Jesse, but mostly to herself.

She readjusted the red plastic basket slung over her arm and tossed in a large squeeze bottle of Smuckers Strawberry, right next to the Texas toast loaf of bread and organic chunky peanut butter.

Jesse’s eyes had been focused on the aisle and he looked up a little too late. “Hm,” he agreed, now studying the food. He’d only finished half his burger, but being around all this food was making him feel ill, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Claire.

“Hey,” she stopped and waited for him to catch up. The look in his eyes was distant and disturbed, no doubt from what had happened this afternoon. The questions were still in her head, and wouldn’t likely go away any time soon--but time was short. It’d have to go on the back-burner.

Which is why she lightly bumped hips with him, a commiserative and empathetic nudge before slipping her arm around his as they headed toward the check-out, and the Starbucks where Ben waited in line. “It’s hard to get past some things, I know,” she obviously attributed his disturbance with what happened. Claire gave Jesse’s arm a squeeze and offered up a gentle, tired, and somewhat sad smile. “That’s what we’re here for--to make it all a little easier.”

He tried not to let the twist in his chest show in his face, smiling down at her. The way they’d looked, the confusion and fear knowing that they had had something stripped from them, that was his fault. He didn’t want to see that confusion and fear, and anger, directed at him. “You do that already,” he told her.

The corners of her mouth quirked up a little more. Claire brushed his shoulder with her lips, then lightly bit down, just to keep the mood light. “Good to know I don’t have to try too hard. You want Funyuns or Doritos?”

Jesse held his breath a moment. That couldn’t be his doing, could it? Look at me and tell me what I feel isn’t real, she’d said. But he didn’t know. He just didn’t know. “You lot have really stupid names for shit.”

“You lot?” Claire snickered at him, and stuffed a bag of each in the basket. “How’bout we git some Amber Fluid an’Golden Gaytime ice cream, mate.” Her fabricated Aussie accent was piss-poor, at best--but the product names were easy enough to remember.

That got a wide, genuine grin, and a barely suppressed urge to kiss her. “Now you’re talking my language. Never knew you were actually born Australian, Claire.”

When Ben finally got to the front of the line, the rail-thin barista behind the counter smiled politely at him, her brown eyes wide and bright as she met his gaze.

“What can I get you today, sir?”

“Double Venti Caffè Americano,” Ben answered. The barista’s brow pulled together briefly.

“So you wanted two extra shots?”

“Four,” Ben replied. “Eight total.” The girl flashed him a wry grin.

“My kinda guy,” she said, tapping in the order on the touch screen. “That’ll be $5.45, please.”

“Mine too,” Claire’s sudden whisper brushed the back of Ben’s neck, followed by the quick warmth of her lips, just before she pressed her hand on the small of his back-plastic bags in her other hand crinkling. Ben’s cheeks immediately warmed, but he didn’t say anything. Claire flicked a look at the girl behind the counter over Ben’s shoulder. “We’ll be over here.” Meaning, of course, the little cafe tables by the exit doors.

“‘Kay,” he said, digging out the appropriate bills from his wallet that Jesse had recently filled. He held out the money to give to the barista, but the moment their skin touched it felt like static electricity. Her brown eyes suddenly widened.

“Maine.”

Ben blinked, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rise.

( “What?” he sputtered. )

***

The nicotine couldn’t get into her system fast enough. Rose Holt sparked up before the metal bay door of Target’s shipment ramp was fully open, and set her back against the beige painted brick. It was difficult, considering the strength of the vibration in her fingertips like she was freezing cold. Christ, that hadn’t happened in so long...

Ben had waited in the car, eyes on the door, twitching like a junkie who needed a fix. The moment he saw the redhead emerge he was out the door and walking fast, splinters of pain shooting up his shins from his attempt at not straight up running toward her. He barely registered Claire and Jesse following him. He needed to talk to this girl.

Rose felt a trickle of ice water drip down the length of her spine a split second before a pair of footsteps rounded the building corner. Her eyes widened when she saw him --hunter-- flashing like a neon sign in her brain. Her cigarette dropped from her lips to roast on the ground.

“Look, I told you everything!” she hurried, stiffening up against the wall.

Ben stopped on a dime, his eyes suddenly widening at her defensive posture and his hands going palms-up in a sign of peace.

“I’m not out to hurt you,” Ben said in a similar tone and speed. “I just-- I just wanna talk to you, that’s all. I promise.” Rosie stared at him with a mix of sharp caution and natural warning. She looked behind his eyes and knew his intentions matched his words, which was a good thing. Didn’t change the fact that he made her nervous.

“So talk. Just--don’t touch me.” It was a common warning, but held an entirely different meaning for Rosie, and her tone reflected that.

“How did you do that?” Ben asked in an explosion of air and wonder.

This was why Rosie never went into crowds, especially when emotions were running high. Confrontation wasn’t her thing, and this was the worst kind. Hunters asked more questions. More directed questions, anyway, and there were some things she just didn’t need being spread around that particular community.

She looked at him, tight in the jaw and tense everywhere else. “It just happens.” She paused, trailing off there in favor of adding details, but one consolation did pop in her head. The psychometric parts of her ‘gift’ only struck when a subject was under extreme emotional distress. Someone missing a sibling sure would do that. She felt sorry for the guy, even if he put her on edge simply by being there.

“I wish I could tell you more, but like I said: that’s all I got.”

Ben’s eyes moved back and forth between hers, trying to find the words she wasn’t using on her face, but she hid them well. She couldn’t have been more than 18. He felt such a deep-seated empathy for her plight that it momentarily stunned him silent.

“All your life?” he asked finally.

“Since I was twelve, mostly,” Rosie answered after a thoughtful pause. Her voice had gotten a little softer, feeling the subtle wave of commiseration lift from him like steam.

Jesse went still, his eyes suddenly snapping to focus on Rosie. It wasn’t the same as him, but there was a familiarity that cut into him. Even made him wonder. He stayed quiet.

“Is there anything you could tell us about what to expect, at least?” Ben asked meekly. He’d never actually spoken to a real psychic before. Once or twice he’d tried navigating through the thin waters that tarot card readers tread through, but most of them were only after the extra money; they didn’t have any real access to knowledge of the future or the ability to communicate ‘beyond the veil.’

Rosie’s eyes flicked between the hunter and the guy a few paces back. Her nerves were on edge, almost twitching, making her hyper-aware of the two pairs of eyes on her--one pleading, the other in stark observation. The third was around; she could feel her. Just another thing that added to her extreme desire to remove herself from this situation.

She stared back at Ben, a breath pushed hard through her nostrils as she turned her focus outward, sifting for anything she could give them that would result in their leaving, hopefully not to come back.

( “They’re waiting for you.” )

***

After referring to the map, Ben realized there were two possible options to take: they could drive through Canada and get there in about eight fewer hours but risk that in border crossing wait times; or they could punch it and keep stateside. Even without the added pressure of not knowing where they were going and having 48 states to desperately comb through in too little time, Ben wanted to get there as quickly as possible. If that meant him driving two-thirds of the trip, so be it.

Claire wasn’t too fond of the idea of them not having a bed to sleep in or a shower after 24 hours in a car with two men, but luckily she didn’t press the issue as hard as he thought she would. He made sure to clean up as thoroughly as he could in the last gas station’s tiny bathroom, but there was no way he was going to stop. He’d promised his mom, and just thinking about what that demon bitch was doing to his sister was slowly eating away at him.

“Hand me another Monster, wouldja?” he said quietly to Jesse, trying to keep his voice down for Claire’s sake since she was sleeping.

Their supply bag was mostly empty cans by now, but Jesse found a new one, handing it over. Before he’d met these two, Jesse had no idea how exhausting it could be to just sit in a car for hours on end. He’d had his own rest not long ago but felt like it had been days since he slept. All this when he could be there right now.

“I could just have a quick look around. Make sure we’re going the right way,” he said quietly.

“And walk right into a trap, by yourself and with no back-up,” Ben finished for him. “No. We do this together. We’re a team. That’s how it works.” He cast a frown in the other man’s direction before turning his eyes back to the road again. “You’re not invincible. You can still get decapitated or shot in the head. There’s a million and one ways to kill a tricky kill; haven’t I taught you anything?”

“I don’t think the demon’s getting us there to shoot me in the head,” Jesse said, his gaze even on Ben. “They wanted to do that, they could’ve done it by now. You’ve taught me enough so I can be careful.”

“I appreciate the sentiments, but the answer’s still no,” Ben said. He worked his jaw for a few seconds before continuing on. “You heard the psychic. They’re expecting us. We have exactly zero chances of this even working out, Jess, and I need you alive.” He swallowed. ( “You need to get her back to my mom if I can’t.” )

Claire’d lost track of how much - or how little - sleep she’d had in the last few days. With everything that’d happened, the only thing that separated the days was the light and darkness, but even then, she’d lost count. The only thing keeping her conscious was the subliminal buzz of necessity: Ben’s sister needed finding. They were short on time, not just sleep...

But it’d do no one any good if they drove off the wooded back road into a tree or a fence. The blue lights on the dash reminded her that it was roughly four in the morning. Jesse was asleep in the back, and both her and Ben were obviously running on fumes.

She had difficulty staring past the ghost of her own reflection in the rest-area vending machine glass. A massive bottle of generic citrus soda condensing in her hand, the other pressed a random combination that dropped what looked like a bag of Funyuns down to the push-drawer. On closer inspection, the bag turned out to be Reeses Pieces.

This diet’s gonna kill me someday... she thought to herself, and cracked open the soda.

Ben was leaning against the car, looking very much like he was two seconds from falling asleep standing up. Everything inside him hurt, and the burning hatred in his chest felt like it was eating him alive. It killed him being away from his mother, and knowing that his sister had been a victim of his work was nothing short of devastating. He had never hated anything so intensely in his life than that day.

He kept playing with his phone, hoping for some word, some sort of sign, when suddenly it jumped in his hand and started ringing. He nearly dropped it in his haste to answer it.

“Ben?” Matt Carter’s voice cracked through the speaker, sounding flustered and frantic at the hint of a pick-up, but no voice on the other end.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ben said in a rush, bringing it up to his ear. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

“Yeah--” Matt replied, cutting himself off; obviously having some difficulty with his words. “Yes, she’s awake now, and...”

“And what?” Ben pressed, a hundred different emotions warring inside him for dominance. “Can I talk to her? Is she okay?”

“She’s with the doctors right now, but--Ben, it looks like she’s perfectly fine.” Matt’s own voice vibrated, baffled, grateful, but confused--and always with the undercurrent of worry about his daughter.

Ben felt his stomach bottom out. It took Matt calling out his name twice before he responded.

( “How?” )

****

The sea of people spread out farther than Jesse could see. A million bodies, a million faces, all turned towards him. Their eyes shone, attentive, admiring. Reverential. Waiting for him. It made him feel stronger, taller. He met every gaze with a steady, unwavering strength.

“They’re ready for their orders,” came a voice from behind him. “They’re ready for you to lead them into glory.”

Jesse’s back straightened, determination pulsing through him. There was no doubt the battle before them would be bloody, but victory was right in his hands.

“I’m so proud of you,” the voice said, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “This is where you belong, leading the way into a new world order. This is what you were born to be.”

Jesse turned to look up at the man behind him, the only one he felt more worthy to stand here than himself. He found himself staring as the road raced by just on the other side of the glass. He jerked back, looking around, finding Claire next to him, driving.

“Wha-what just happened?” he said, his heart racing.

Claire loosened her grip on his arm when he jarred awake, but her hand stayed there, the other on the wheel. She switched her eyes back and forth between the road and the faint blue dash-glow on Jesse’s face--her own painted with a mild worry.

“You were dreaming. Didn’t look pleasant, either.”

“D-dreaming? I-- no, I was somewhere else, it was--” He gave a shiver. It hadn’t been pleasant; it had been amazing. Frighteningly so. “I was transported or something.”

Claire made a confused, but skeptical face and shook her head. “Not that I saw.” She pulled her hand back after a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and set it on her own thigh. His words played over in her head. She understood the notion of thinking dreams were real--some of hers could be damn vivid--but there was just something about his tone that kept striking chords. A quick glance in the rear view mirror found Ben still sound asleep across the back seat. Claire wondered, automatically, if he was dreaming too.

“What did you see?” she asked softly, slumping back against the seat. She went back to driving with a couple of fingertips.

“There...there were all these people, standing, looking at me. Like some kind of...I don’t know. It was...I don’t know,” he said, looking at her, then at the road. “That’s never happened to me before. You think that was a dream?”

One of Claire’s brows lifted as she glanced back at him. “You mean you’ve never dreamed?”

He looked over at her uncertainly, running a hand over his face. “No. But lots of people don’t have dreams, right?”

Her brows pushed down over the bridge of her nose, but Claire didn’t answer right away. Jesse was a special case, even if they didn’t know the specifics. She guessed it wasn’t impossible that he’d gone his whole life without dreaming. So what did that mean this was?

( “What else do you remember?” )

****

It was Claire’s turn to drive, which left Jesse in the passenger seat with nothing to do. Ben was passed out in the back. The moment he’d gotten the call that his mom was awake and doing well, the stress had seeped out of him and left exhaustion behind.

Jesse, on the other hand, felt like he was going to fly to pieces. It wasn’t just everything that had gone down with Ben’s family, though that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even the talk with the demon. It was Claire. Claire, who’d rung up an angel to find out what was going on. It’d been unnerving enough to hear that she was open to the angel possession thing. Now if she was just going to chat with them whenever she wanted, he was bound to come up. And what angels would have to say about him wouldn’t be good.

“It’s good about Ben’s mom, right?” he said, trying to fill the silence.

Claire pulled the Mountain Dew bottle from her lips and twisted the cap back on, momentarily driving with her knee. The question seemed somehow...off. Definitely out of the blue, if anything.

“‘Course it is,” She looked at him with a slightly quizzical expression, then paid attention to the road. “How do you think he’d be if she was still on the edge?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, his lips pursing. “When I met those hunters, they told me staying around might be dangerous for my parents. Glad I listened to them. Don’t know if I could have gone through something like that.” Claire nodded once, but rolled her lips a bit. She tasted sugar and citrus flavoring, though she didn’t register them consciously.

“He’s still going through it,” she said after a pause. Her voice, a bit softened.

Jesse took a sharp breath. “We’ll find her. And we’ll make that damned demon pay,” he said, no doubt in his voice. Claire breathed in deep, agreeing, but keeping herself mildly restrained. There was no time off until this was over; she’d be perpetually serious from here on out.

Perhaps that’s why she switched hands on the wheel, and laced her fingers with his, squeezing lightly. It wasn’t a formal response, but it was clearly honest.

Jesse looked down at their hands, squeezing back but frowning. It seemed wrong, to want to talk about what had happened between the three of them when they had much more important things ahead of them. But they had time, and he’d rather talk things out with Claire first. She was more even-keeled about this kind of thing; after all, she hadn’t tried to exorcise them the first time they met.

“When we’ve got Krysta back, I think it might be a good idea if I went away a couple weeks,” he said quietly, not yet willing to pull his hand away.

“What?” Claire’s response was completely automatic, same as the slight double-take. The statement was as surprising as the sudden lurch in her stomach at the thought. She looked back at the road, though. “Why?”

His jaw tightened. This time he did pull his hand away, in case she was going to pull back hers. “You know I can get people to do what I want. The thing is,” he said, the words coming out slow and carefully chosen, “I can’t always control it completely. And I think I might be doing that to you and Ben.”

Okay..., that fear made sense, but at the same time it was near impossible to wrap around her mind. She could still feel the warmth from his hand leaching out of her palm. Her fingers curled in tight, then set on the wheel for something to occupy them. Claire inhaled deep, trying to keep her thoughts balanced with her words.

“Because of last night...” Over the din of all that had happened since then, it was coming back to her. How he’d reacted...

Jesse nodded, his eyes directed out the windshield. “We’re together constantly, night and day. I haven’t had that with anyone since... Well, never, actually. And I think, even though I wasn’t trying, some of what I want has been seeping into the two of you. I think that cutting off for a couple weeks will get that out of your system. And then...” He licked his lips. “Then we can talk about what everybody really wants.”

Claire listened attentively, well aware of the way direction this conversation was tightening a small vice in her stomach, as well as one in her heart. She sent him a sidelong glance, lingering as long as safe driving would allow. Jesse’s eyes were as distant as he tried to make his words; thin with reluctance.

( It was a few seconds before she spoke again, but she started with a soft, sad little laugh. )

TO BE CONTINUED...