Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jack sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his room in the bunker, the fluorescent light fixture blinking weakly, the mattress below him offering little cushioning to his back. For the first time in his, albeit short, life, he has never felt so powerless, so… human, and yet far from it. There is almost a sense of familiarity in this weakness that he couldn’t quite place.

It had been a week since the confrontation with Lucifer, a week since Dean went missing, a week since Jack was drained like a battery by his own power-hungry father. Not that he saw Lucifer as a father, especially since Castiel, Sam, and Dean have proven time and again to be better family than he could have asked for. He wanted to be out in the field, helping Sam and Castiel track down Dean, to start putting things right, but it’s like his legs were filled with cement, too heavy to lift and even if he could, they would be too unstable to get him far.

And so, Jack laid there, in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, unmoving, but with his thoughts racing. He couldn’t even sleep to escape his thoughts, despite the fatigue coursing through his body. This was his penance for allowing Lucifer to deceive him, to steal all of his power, to get so far gone that Dean was forced to say yes to Michael. Now look where they were. Michael was off doing God-knows-what wearing Dean’s face.

And it was all Jack’s fault.

So he will stay locked up in the bunker so he can’t cause any more pain for anyone else again.

****

There was a faint knocking on Jack’s door, and without knowing how, Jack knew it was Castiel. He didn’t say anything in answer, unsure if his voice would even work after three weeks of disuse.

Taking his silence as permission, Castiel eased the door open, approaching the bed with caution before lowering himself to sit on the edge by Jack’s shoulder. He looked at Jack, still in the same clothes he came home in after everything with Lucifer, still with the eyes that seemed to be staring at nothing, yet aware of everything. Cas combed back a few stray curls that had fallen over Jack’s eyes, who did not react, not even to blink. Cas’s heart broke at the state Jack was in, unable to even guess what was going on in his mind. But he knew a tortured soul when he saw one.

After a minute of sitting with him like that, Cas broke his silence. “Sam and Rowena might have found a lead on Dean, if you are interested in joining us. It’s not too far away. Just up in South Dakoda.” He waited for an answer but was met with more silence. “No pressure, of course.” After a minute, he added: “It always helped Dean to get back into the field after a loss. Keeping busy, not letting it get you down…Not sure if it helped him all that much, to be honest, but it’s always a worth a try.”

Still staring at the ceiling, Jack finally responded, voice quiet and rough from unuse, “I won’t be of any help. I’m without my powers.” I will only hurt people. I know that now, he said to himself.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean you can’t tag along. No fighting, just gathering information. Don’t you want to go see Bobby?” Cas laid what he hoped was a comforting hand on Jack’s shoulder next to him. Apocalypse World Bobby was enough different from the one Cas knew, the one he checked up on during his occasional visits to heaven, but he hoped this one would offer the same comfort the old Bobby did

“No, it’s okay. I can see him next time.”

The silence stretched between them for a while, both Jack and Cas holding back tears they didn’t want the other to see. Eventually, Cas stood back up, giving Jack’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he did so, and walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Once they were out of earshot of each other, the two finally allowed their tears to fall, Cas quick to wipe them away before returning to Sam and Rowena, while Jack curled up on side, the first movement he had made in weeks as sobs wracked his body.

Chapter Text

Two months after Lucifer’s death, while Sam and Cas were away trailing a lead on Michael, and Mary was off on an independent mission, Jack decided it was time to venture out of his self-imposed solitary confinement and into the bunker’s kitchen. While he did not need food to live, he had found a liking for it early on in his life, surely influenced by Dean’s love of the stuff. There was not much in the fridge, outside of Sam’s “rabbit food,” as Dean called it: a few apples, a bundle of kale, some lettuce, and a few carrots. Jack turns his nose up at most of this but did snag one of the apples before grabbing the half-full jug of milk, as well as the box of Dean’s super-sugary cereal he knew was hidden in the back of the pantry, away from Sam’s judgmental eyes.

Sitting down to eat his less than exemplary meal, Jack started to feel a bit more normal, if that was even possible. He still had the same heaviness in his bones, but it seemed to be a bit lighter today. The first few bites of his cereal were bitter-sweet, reminding him too much of Dean, how he failed him and the rest of humanity. If only he could make things right, to be worthy of the love the boys had continuously shown him the last few years…

Suddenly, a series of thuds and the sound of glass breaking echoed through the bunker. Abandoning his half-eaten cereal and uncut apple, Jack followed the noise to find Sam, Cas, and Rowena trying to subdue a writhing Dean – or, rather, a writhing Michael – in the map room.

“Dean Winchester is gone and there is nothing you can do about it!” Michael screamed, fighting to escape the grip of Cas.

“Jack, get out of the way!” Sam yelled in his direction, drawing Cas’s attention away from Michael, enough of a distraction that Michael broke free from his grip.

Michael spun to face Jack, sending him a wicked smile. “Thanks for the assist, kid.” Jack stood his ground as Michael started to stalk toward him.

Cas was behind him in an instant, hand on Michael’s shoulder, spinning him around, his other hand brandishing the angel blade to strike. Michael caught his wrist, stopping the arc of the blade in its track, forcing them into a stalemate as they both struggled for control over the blade.

After a few minutes of intense struggle, Michael started to falter, the blade inching closer to his chest.

“Cas, no!” Sam yelled over the struggle, but it was too late. Faster than they could react, the blade found purchase in Michael’s chest, and he went down like a bag of rocks, crumbling to the floor.

“Cas, what the hell!” Sam continued. “Wasn’t the goal to not kill Dean this time? What were you thinking?”

Rowena took this time to check over Dean’s body, scanning it with her magic. After a minute, Jack joins her, kneeling next to Dean’s body.

“It’s curious,” Rowena told him. “That knife shouldn’t have done anything. It wasn’t even an archangel blade. But he is giving every indication of actually dying.”

Jack puts a hand on Dean’s forehead and ever so slightly, he could feel the two life forces humming under the surface, one greatly weakened, though he couldn’t tell which: Michael or Dean. “What happened to Michael?” he asked. “I can sense him in there. He should be up and fighting still.”

“Well, let’s be glad he isn’t,” Rowena scolded. She glanced back at Cas and Sam, who were still yelling at each other, then turned back to Jack. “Maybe Dean was able to lock Michael up again before he was stabbed.”

Jack slowly nodded, wondering something similar. “If he was able to manage that, it will not last in this condition. If Dean dies, then Michael will have full control of his vessel. I wish I could do something to help him. It is because of me that this happened.”

“True,” Rowena responded, more harshly than Jack had anticipated. “But maybe you can also do something to make things right. What about your Nephilim magic?”

Jack looked at her for a moment, wondering if she was serious. “I… I can’t. I lost my powers to Lucifer. I have nothing left.”

Rowena hums a short note. “I’m not so sure of that. You were able to check Dean’s soul status, were you not? One who has no power cannot do that.”

“You mean Lucifer might not have taken all my power? That is impossible,” Jack replied. Despite this, he placed his hand back on Dean’s chest, above the still-embedded blade, feeling for his soul again.

“Try it. See if you can heal him,” Rowena encouraged him from over his shoulder, with a sly smile that Jack could not see. Jack closed his eyes and concentrated on stitching together Dean’s wound from the inside-out.

Sam soon noticed the two, and, not trusting Rowena as far as he can throw her, pulled her off of Jack. Cas tried to move Jack, unsure of what he was doing, but it was like trying to move a mountain; Jack had become an immovable object in his concentration.

At first, it felt like nothing was happening, but after a minute, Jack started to feel the low thrum of power and the warmth that accompanies it. After it started, it was like rolling down a hill – slow at first but quickly picking up speed. Distantly, Jack heard the clatter of the angel blade, now rejected from the healing wound. He knew that this was enough to stabilize Michael, to allow Dean to imprison him in his mind, but there was something in Jack that told him to go a bit further. After another minute, a flash of light shined from under Jack’s hand, extinguished as quickly as it first appeared, going unnoticed by all. A cold sharpness began traveling up Jack’s arm, starting from his hand, still in contact with Dean, slowly making its way up and coming to rest in his own chest, pain throbbing for a moment before vanishing.

Only Rowena saw the fading blue light emanating from Jack’s eyes as he opened his eyes.

Jack finally fell back, collapsing on his side as he clung to the edge of consciousness, Cas was barely able to catch him before he hit the hard concrete floor of the bunker. In his last moments of lucidness, Jack heard the faint sound of Dean coming to before the world went dark.

***********

When Jack awoke the next morning, he debated secluding himself to his room again, fearful of the reactions of Sam, Dean, and Cas. Mostly, he was scared of not having a good explanation for them. So, he thought it would be safer to stay away for a while as the dust settled.

But he has been doing that all of an hour and could not stand the agitation in his mind, so he forced himself out of bed, into a change of clothes, and out into the bunker’s kitchen.

Jack finds Sam and Dean eating lunch at the table, Sam munching on one of his super greens salads while Dean was chowing down on a burger. Jack could hear them bickering over something as he approached, but they suddenly went quiet when they caught sight of him.

“Hey, Jack. How are you feeling?” Sam asked, trying, and failing, to sound casual.

“I am alright, I think. I just wanted to grab something to eat really quick,” Jack responded, trying to maintain the same casual attitude Sam was failing to exude.

“There’s burgers on the counter if you want one,” Dean added between bites of his own.

Awkward silence followed Jack as he assembled his burger, a double stack piled high with lettuce, tomatoes, and condiments.

Just as he was about to leave with his plate, Dean called out to him, stopping him in his tracks. “Jack, come here for a sec. I want to talk to you.”

Eyes wide, and slightly panicking, Jack turns around and slowly made his way to the table, sliding in next to Sam so that he’s facing Dean.

“Is everything okay?” Jack asked, hesitantly.

“Well, we should be asking you that, shouldn’t we,” Dean countered.

“We haven’t seen you much these past two months. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Sam continued, still hesitant, but genuine worry permeated his voice.

“For obvious reasons, I haven’t seen you, but the point stands,” Dean added.

“…Everything is fine,” Jack said, unable to meet their eyes, turning instead to poke at his burger, having since lost his appetite.

“Really? Is that why you passed out after apparently healing me from my own self-inflicted wound?” Dean asked, earning a sharp and quizzical look from both Sam and Jack.

“What do you mean, ‘self-inflicted?’” Sam asked, raising his voice a bit. “If you died, Michael would have gotten loose. What would make you do that?”

“Not the point, Sammy. Just did what I thought was best,” Dean said quickly, clearly regretting mentioning that small detail.

“We’ll come back to that,” Sam said before turning back to Jack. “I though Lucifer took your grace. How was it possible that you could heal Dean?”

“I don’t know,” Jack answered, truthfully. “Maybe he didn’t take all of it…?”

“Could be… but it seems unlikely,” Sam said. “If I know anything about his, he does not like to leave a job unfinished.”

“Wow, dude. Way to make the kid feel bad,” Dean shoots back, feeling defensive of Jack. “Let’s just be thankful that things did turn out alright, take the win, and move on to the next. Michael is still in here,” he continued, tapping his temple, “so we gotta figure out how to give him his evacuation notice. And for that, we need a plan.”

Turning his focus back to Jack, Dean asked, “Do you think your grace is… recharging? Maybe Lucifer didn’t take it all and now it’s trying to get back to full power.” He thought for a minute before suggesting with a sly smile, “Try lifting my burger!”

Jack cocked his head to one side, not exactly sure what Dean was getting at. Cautiously, he reached his hand out across the table and grabbed the burger, lifting it a few inches off the plate. Dean’s laugh caught him off guard, forcing him to look up. Dean put his hand on Jack’s wrist to guide the burger back to the plate.

“No, not like that. God, you are so much like Cas,” Dean said with a smile that had become so rare. “Use your Nephilim mojo.”

“Oh, I’m sorry” Jack said, now bashful.

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the burger across the table, willing it to float a bit off the plate. He visualized it hovering over the table, just as he had done with so many other objects in the past. It had always been an easy trick, but after a few minutes of intense concentration with no success, Jack called it quits.

Sam leaned back, deep in thought, while Dean shrugged before digging in and finishing the now-cold burger. Jack slouched down in defeat, trying to figure out what the difference was between yesterday’s feat and today, picking at the burger to nibble at the vegetables piled on top.

After a while, Sam perked up. “I think have an idea of what might have happened. Lucifer drained you of your grace, but obviously you have something left in a reserve. So, what if it’s like a battery that needs a bit of a recharge time before it can power up again. We can test it again in a few days and see if anything has changed.”

Jack nodded but didn’t feel much better about his outcome. The hollowness that he felt those first few weeks after losing his grace had returned full force. Its return, however, made him realize that the hollowness had left, or at least reduced, for a while. Maybe Sam was right…

“Well, when you start feeling more yourself, let us know. We could use some help cleaning up after Michael’s… pets,” Dean said as he started to clear the table.

“What do you mean? What did Michael do?” Jack had put no thought toward what Michael may have gotten up to while galivanting in Dean’s skin.

“He made some really fucked-up science experiments, and let’s leave it at that,” Dean answered, disgust colouring his face. “So, we could really use an extra set of hands.”

“If you aren’t up to it, we get it,” Sam added. “Take the time you need to recover from… whatever happened yesterday.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “I will give it a try. I just do not want to harm anyone or slow you down because of my current state.”

“You’ll be fine, kid,” Dean reassured him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Chapter Text

In the following weeks, Jack started to tag along with the Winchesters to clean up the supped-up monsters Michael had created, which seem to have been weakened after Jack subdued him back in the bunker. Finally, the tried-and-true extermination methods start to work again, and the crew make quick work of the vampire nests, werewolf packs, and ghoul dens.

Jack’s powers still showed little progress. The hollowness lingered, though it was not as all-consuming as it used to be. He made slow progress in navigating the world powerless, which has been more of a struggle than Jack initially thought. Dean started giving him more lessons on shooting guns, wielding machetes, and close combat with knives, which Jack had greatly enjoyed - both the learning of the skill and the time spent with Dean.

He also started confiding in Cas more about his condition, explaining the hollowness he felt and his fears about fucking up again:

“I’m afraid that I will not be able to protect you or the people we have set out to protect. I just feel so… powerless,” Jack told Cas after a close call with one of Michael’s werewolf packs. “I used to be able to knock a werewolf out with a wave of my hand, now I can barely hold my own with a gun.”

The two of them were lounging on the couch in the Dean Cave, Cas’s hand drawing calming circles in Jack’s hair. Cas had always felt so protective of the boy, in a way he never had before he came into the world. He remembered the words of Kelly often, designating Cas as Jack’s father, the one who would help and protect him where and when needed. He wanted to take the boy away from this hellscape and to a place where he would be away from harm for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, neither of them had the power to make that happen.

“You’re doing the best you can, Jack. And you are doing amazing. I am so proud of you.” Cas had to stop for a minute to keep the tears collecting in his eyes from falling. “It isn’t fair, this card you have been dealt, but I want you to know how proud I am of how far you have come these past few months.” Despite his efforts, tears began to trace paths down his face.

Jack sat up a bit to face Cas, seeing the tears fall. He said nothing, but curled himself around Cas in a crushing embrace that told his feelings better than words ever could.

All Cas could do was wrap his arms around Jack, returning the embrace.

********

Over the next month, Michael’s monsters began to slow their attacks, allowing the Winchester household a bit of a reprieve. Things had been calm for the most part of the week, so Dean made the executive decision to have a family movie night, hosted in his Dean Cave. The movie of choice: Ghostbusters! The movie was a guilty pleasure of Dean, mostly because it held so many glaring inaccuracies to actual ghost hunting, and for this reason, John had banned the movie for the boys growing up. And so, the whole bunker gathered together with popcorn, extra buttery, family sized bags of candy, courtesy of Dean, and party pails of chips.

The crew was in the middle of the movie when Sam received a call from one of the Apocalypse World refugees, part of the chain of communication for when things started going south, whether in regard to the Michael monsters, demons rising up, or Heaven pulling some bullshit. Sam stepped out into the hallway to take the call. He stayed out there for a while, worrying Dean and Mary.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” Dean asked upon Sam’s return, pausing the movie.

“Not sure. There’s been some weird activity lately, but nothing that seems to be drawing too many red flags. We still might want to check it out tomorrow, though, just to make sure everything is okay.”

Dean groaned in response. “Dude, we just got a break. Can we not enjoy this just once? Besides, I got plans for the weekend.”

“Since when did you get friends?” Sam retorted.

“You know what, fuck you!” Dean responded.

“… to be fair, I am not meeting up with friends. I’ve… ahem… been working on a pet project recently and was hoping to focus on it this weekend.”

“Right… anyway, we don’t all have to go,” Sam said. “Maybe only one or two of us need to go, check out this situation. It might not even be our type of gig, so it might just be a waste of time.”

“I can go,” Jack volunteered.

“Are you sure you’re up for that, buddy?” Dean asked, worried as always.

“It’s alright. If it is something simple, then I won’t need to do much. I can handle it,” Jack replied. He wanted to take this case as his way of proving his reliability and capability. While his powers had remained out of reach, he began to feel a bit more comfortable, normal. Maybe he was getting used to this whole normal-person business.

Dean and Cas shared a worried look that they often shared but relented in the end. “Okay, but you are not going my yourself,” Cas said sternly.

“I can go with him,” Mary interjected, much to the surprise of the rest of the crew.

“Okay,” Sam said hesitantly. “I’ll send you the address. It’s out in Delaware, so you’ll need to leave early in the morning.”

With that, Dean unpaused the movie, but it was tainted by a feeling of nervousness shared by everyone in the Dean Cave.

********

“Hey, Mom – Mary –” Sam began, stuttering between the two names.

“Yeah?” Mary responded, halted in her path to the kitchen to put away the popcorn bowls in the wake of the movie.

Jack noticed this awkwardness between them often, especially Sam’s hesitancy between the two names, and wondered why this was so. If she is his mother, why would he not call her “Mom”?

“Can I talk to you for a moment? Privately?" Sam asked, with a pointed glance at Jack. Whether the look was intentional or not, Jack took it as his cue to leave, grabbing Mary’s bowls as he passed, earning a thankful nod from her.

“Is everything okay, Sam?” Mary asked, cautious of what Sam may be asking after. The defensiveness she developed for survival in the Apocalypse World came creeping back up.

“Yeah, I just wanted to touch base with you before you head off on the case with Jack.” They made their way out of the Dean Cave and into one of the secluded hallways that led to a line of old storage rooms. Turning back to face Mary, Sam continued: “You know that Jack is in a sensitive state right now, having to figure out how to live without his powers, the whole thing with Lucifer, and…” He trailed off, trying to put together his thoughts. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, go easy on him, but do what you can to protect him, okay?”

Mary went silent for a moment, taking in this new side of Sam, one that is so fiercely protective of this boy. She had seen the lengths of loyalty during her escape from the Apocalypse World in the way he worked toward the protection and success of a group of fighters he had never met before. That loyalty persists, even still, in this network of Hunters he built from the ground up. But this thing for Jack, this fatherly love he has for the boy Mary saw in Cas and Dean as well. Shown in different ways, sure, but a bond that is so rare to find among Hunters.

It made her so immensely proud, even if these boys were not actually her own.

Perhaps she would be able to have a place in this familial relationship, a thing long since lost for Mary.

“I will do everything in my power to keep Jack safe,” Mary said determinately.

“Thank you.” Sam visibly relaxed at this declaration, this promise. “Because the signs of this case point toward, somehow, Lucifer’s return.”

********

Jack stayed back in the kitchen to help Cas and Dean wash the dishes soiled by the mountains of chips, candy, and popcorn the five of them went through. They silently and almost instinctively fell into a system of Dean washing the dishes, Cas drying them, and Jack putting them in the cabinets. They worked in a comfortable silence that put the boys at ease, a feeling of domesticity and normality that Dean especially longed for. It gave him hope that this insanity of Heaven and Hell may one day be over, that moments like this could stretch into lifetimes of comfort and bliss.

Once Jack had nestled the last of the bowls, an old ceramic piece that may have once been used as a scrying bowl, in its home in one of the bottom cabinets, the boys bade each other farewell and returned to their respective rooms to turn in for the night.

Jack was just getting into bed, about an hour later, when he heard a knock at his door. Sighing, he climbed back out of bed to open the door where Cas was standing, hands fidgeting slightly. Jack could tell something was on his mind, so he stepped back to let him through. “Is everything okay, Castiel?” Jack asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Cas answered as they settled to sit on Jack’s bed. Cas could not quite meet his eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you are okay going on this hunt without us. Are you sure you are ready for this? It’s a big step. I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I will be fine,” Jack said, trying to reassure him, but the words became laced with rising anxiety. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and forcefully before continuing: “It will be good for me to reach beyond what I have done so far, to apply my knowledge I have gained in a real context. I see it as a test of my skills.”

Jack said this but believed very little of it.

Cas knew this. He could hear the light tremor in Jack’s voice, could see the light in Jack’s eyes dimmed by a creeping cloud of anxiety. He reached his hand out to Jack, coming to rest on the base of his head where he began making soothing circular motion, hoping it would help ground him.

“I believe in you, Jack,” Cas reaffirmed. “You have learned so much in these past few weeks, and I could not be more proud. Hell, you are getting better than me with that gun of yours!” Jack laughed weakly at this, knowing how shit Cas is with guns. The bar for marksmanship was, quite literally, in hell.

They sat like this for a while, savouring the comfort of each other’s presence. Days like this made Jack so thankful for Kelly’s designation of Cas as his protector, his father in all but blood. Cas’s encouragement helped to put him at ease, quieting the anxiety that began rising after volunteering for this mission. He felt ready to take this on, but the voice in his head said otherwise.

You’re just gonna fuck it up, kid. You’ll just get more people killed, taking after your father.

Lucifer’s son.

“I have a question for you, Castiel,” Jack said suddenly, trying to distract from the sound of his mind.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He responded, a bit uneasy. Jack’s questions tended to range from needing an explanation for some obscure pop culture reference made by Dean to deep philosophical questions about life, death, and morality. Cas hoped this was not one of those this time.

“Why does Sam not like calling Mary ‘mom’? I noticed earlier an odd awkwardness between them over that issue,” Jack explained.

Cas took a minute before responding, thinking about the best way to explain the complexity of the Winchester family. “Sam and Mary’s relationship is… complicated, to say the least. You know that Mary died when Sam was a baby.” Jack nodded in confirmation. He remembered one of them mentioning that at some point, though he couldn’t remember when. Cas continued, “So, he basically grew up without a mom.”

“Like me,” Jack interjected.

“Yes, a bit like you. You remember a bit of Kelly, though, from before you were born?” Jack nodded again. “For Sam, you could argue that Dean was basically his mother while they were growing up, when John went off on his cases, but he still missed out on having Mary as a mother. And so, there have been a few times over the past decade or so that the two have been able to meet her again.”

Cas paused again, trying to figure out the best way to explain the current situation. Curse these Winchesters and their complicated family, he thought wearily. “When Mary was resurrected, she had to go through a big adjustment. The last thing she remembered was having a four-year-old Dean and a six-month-old Sam, and next thing she knew, they were fully grown adults. To her, this era’s Sam and Dean aren’t her sons, at least not the ones she knew and remembered. She has a difficult time equating the two versions of her sons that can be confusing and awkward.

“Likewise, Sam has been in a difficult situation, trying to equate or even replace the Mary he knew with this tangible version of his mother. He built up this image of her in his mind for so long that the real her doesn’t quite line up. And that has caused a bit of a stand-off between the two, at least from Sam’s perspective, this conflict between respecting Mary’s past and his own. Sam doesn’t want to push this mother-son relationship on her if that isn’t what she wants from him, so he tries not to call her ‘mom,’ even if he really wants to.

“… Does that make sense?” Cas finished by asking. “If you want to know anything more, I would ask Sam himself.”

Jack was silent for a moment, trying to process all of this information. “That… is complicated, but it makes sense, I think. Thank you, Castiel, for explaining this to me. I was worried there was something more serious going on, but now I know it isn’t anything to worry about, right?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Cas confirmed. Just more family drama, as if we don’t have enough of that in this house.

“Okay,” Jack responded with a quick smile. “I think I want to go to bed now.”

“… okay. Good night,” Cas said, giving Jack a light, one-armed hug before standing up. As he opened the door to leave, he turned back at Jack. “Good luck, tomorrow. I know you’ll do great.” With that, he left the room, closing the door softly and taking a deep, steadying breath. Please stay safe, Jack.

Chapter Text

Jack and Mary headed out early the next morning, Cas, Sam, and Dean up to see them off. Before they left, Sam gave Jack a stack of papers with information about the case, courtesy of the hunter that called it in and Sam’s own research from the night before. The two then loaded one of the bunker’s cars with an assortment of knives, guns, and common spell ingredients, a to-go kit courtesy of Rowena. Mary also made sure to pack a cooler of drinks and snacks for the road. And with that, they made their way out of the bunker’s garage, Mary behind the wheel, and Jack allowed to sit in shotgun.

The ride out to Delaware was quiet, Jack and Mary still tiptoeing around each other, despite their comradery in the Apocalypse World. Jack suspected there was a level of distrust remaining between them, partly because of his parentage, but the rest was due to his own actions in the time since they first met. Jack used the time to read through Sam’s notes concerning the case while Mary turned the radio on to a random pop station, keeping the volume low.

“Okay, I think I have got the main idea of what we are dealing with. There have been reports of a man going on a kidnapping spree, possibly a series of murders, around this one town in Delaware. The police have done little to track him down because the attacks seem to be random,” Jack summarized. “Sam thinks it is a demon that is going off the rails, so it should be easy enough to deal with.”

“Perfect. I still have some angel bullets left, so we can make some easy work out of this,” Mary responded with a stiff nod, eyes glued to the road ahead of them. Knowing a bit about what they are getting into gave them some space to breathe, and they both welcomed it.

The rest of the drive was quiet, but not quite as uncomfortable as before. Perhaps they were making some progress.

A few hours later, they finally passed by the sign welcoming them to Pike Creek, Delaware. They continued onto the main road, scoping out the town a bit in the dying light of day before finding their motel, a little family-owned place that looked a bit run-down and in need of some repairs. They checked into a room, made sure it was in working order, then set out again to begin their investigations.

Sam had provided them with a general area of odd activity, mostly concerning a string of disappearances. Seemingly at random, people have been going missing, from elderly grandmothers at the nursing home to teenagers who went hiking in the nearby woods. Some families’ pets have gone missing as well. The police have been notified of this, of course, but they have been unsuccessful in figuring out any connection between the victims, no possible motive or suspect. As far as they were concerned, they were unrelated events, and while some of the victims are still being investigated, most have been tabled and labeled as accidents.

Now, it is up to the hunters to figure out this mystery.

Jack and Mary drove over to one of the neighborhoods in town that backed up to a stretch of the woods, and where four victims used to live, six if you count two of the missing pets:

• 24-year-old Clara Williams, reported to have gone out hiking in the woods a week and a half ago and never returned home. Lives with her parents and 17-year-old brother, who made the report. She was an experienced hiker and knew the woods well, so her risk of getting lost was minimal. The police scoured the woods, along with her family and a few friends, but she was unable to be found.
• 15-year-old Isabella Ling, also reported to have gone missing in the woods, which she went to with a group of classmates six days ago. She was not exactly popular at school, and her friends were worried the kids she went out with had hurt her. The police were able to track her phone’s GPS, but she was nowhere to be found.
• 89-year-old Angela Peterson lived alone but had a caregiver that would come around each day to assist her with her daily needs. Her caregiver helped her to sleep one night, five days ago, and the next morning, she was gone without a trace, certainly a feat for an old woman.
• 53-year-old Benjamin Roof, family man and worked as the finance director of the local church. According to his wife, he went out drinking with some of his friends and never came home. This was two days ago.
• One cat and one dog also went missing from the neighborhood over the past week, from different families on different streets. The police were less willing to investigate these disappearances, but Sam was able to track down the reports and added them to the file as well.

Since it was getting late into the evening, Mary decided they should stick to driving around, see if they could see anything out of the ordinary, then get to investigating and interviewing the families and witnesses in the morning.

The neighborhood looked like any other Mary had come across, though the building styles of the obviously newer developments were still a bit jarring, enough different from the colored shutters and exposed brick she was used to before she died. There was a lot more exterior paneling and a shocking lack of front porches on some of these houses. Other than that, it looked pretty normal, with manicured lawns up and down tree-lined streets, front yards with small gardens of geraniums, roses, and lavender bushes. There were a few cars parked on the roads, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. Jack made notes on the printed-out map of town of the locations of the victim’s houses as they passed them on the street. They drove along the road bordering the woods at the back of the neighborhood, which also looked fairly normal, a collection of oak, pine, hickory, and maple trees, whose branches cast menacing shadows, but outside of a nervous imagination, it didn’t look too threatening.

They wound around for an hour, but they had found nothing out of place. It all looked like any other neighborhood, quiet and calm, especially at this late hour. Still, an uneasiness crept over Mary as they made their way out. It was almost too quiet. She had seen no one out, not a parent coming home late from the office, not a child playing outside, not even a deer or squirrel crossing the street as they drove.

“This is a nice place,” Jack said, a jolting break in the silence, causing Mary to jump a bit. “When you were alive, the last time I mean, did you live somewhere like this?”

Mary took a second to respond, caught off guard by the question and the lingering uneasiness. “Umm, yeah. Growing up, I did. Then, after John and I got married, our first house was more in town, so not quite the same feel as this. Don’t get me wrong, the bunker is great, but I do wish we lived in an actual house again.” As she kept talking, reminiscing about her life before… everything, she began to relax, tension draining away like a pinhole leak in a bucket- unnoticeable at first, but after a while, she noticed a change in the weight that always seemed to hang heavy on her shoulders. She looked over at Jack and found him staring back, listening intently to her rambling. “But, yeah,” she continued, a bit awkward now. “Would you want to live in a real house? I don’t know if your mom had one that you would have remembered, but if you had the chance…?”

“I think I would like that,” he said with determination. “Maybe one day we can all live in a house like these. Kelly mentioned it a little before I was born, the possibility of getting a nice hou—”

“Jack, wait!” Mary interjected, looking out the window past Jack. “I think I see something.”

Jack spun around in his seat to stare out his window as well, and indeed, there was a figure there, coming out of the woods lining the road. Mary slowed the car, trying to get a better look at the figure that she could now tell was moving fast, like it was running, getting closer to them.

“Jack, roll down your window,” she said. As the figure got closer, it put its arms up, waving them like it was trying to get their attention.

Jack rolled down the window, the brisk night air flowed in, bringing with it a faint cry. “Help! Stop! Please!” the shouts came from the figure, it was obvious now, getting louder as it approached.

Mary let the car slow to a crawl and unlocked the back doors, then leaned over Jack, to call out, “Here! Get in!”

When the figure was a few paces from the car, Mary could finally see its features, illuminated faintly by the car’s high beams cutting through the night.

It was a child, no older than 10, by her estimate, and covered in leaves and dirt.

The child finally reached the car, slamming into the door in his haste as he tried to get a hold on the handle. After a moment’s struggle, the door was wrenched open and the boy slid into the back seat, breathing heavily and shivering violently. Mary slammed her foot on the gas and sped off again, the speedometer toeing 90.

Ten minutes later, they reached the main road of the town, Mary finally slowing her pace to a reasonable 45 mph. Those ten minutes allowed her and the boy time to calm down, his breathing returning to normal, though his body kept shivering, from cold or fright, Mary couldn’t tell.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to glance at the boy, taking in his state: thin pajama pants with the knees ripped, dirty, bright blue sneakers, and a ragged black shirt with a faded yellow Batman symbol emblazoned in the center, all caked with mud and leaves. “What’s your name, kid?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“…Mathew,” the boy answered quietly, barely audible. He had one of his knees drawn up to his chest, arms hugging it tightly. Mary’s heart broke at the sight.

“Okay, Mathew. Do you want to tell us what happened? Why were you in the woods so late? I’m sure your parents are worried about you.” Mary spoke with a low voice that she hoped was calming for the boy.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember going out there,” Mathew replied. “My dad said never to go out there alone, and certainly not after dark, or else the Deer Man will get you.”

Interesting… Mary thought. “What was the last thing you remember before finding yourself in the woods?”

“I had just gone to bed. My dad read me a chapter of The Hobbit, then I went to sleep. I woke up on the ground in the woods and when I sat up…” He trailed off, curling into himself even further. “He was gonna kill me.”

This got Jack’s attention, who had been silent and seemingly calm since picking up the boy. “Who was going to kill you, Mathew?” he asked in an almost commanding tone.

“The-there was a man, I had never seen him before. But he looked weird and was muttering to himself. Freaked me out,” Mathew replied, voice half muffled by his knee pressed against it.

“Can you describe him?” Jack asked, in an attempt to exude the authority he studied from Dean, pulling himself tall and hardening his voice.

But Mathew just shook his head and closed his eyes.

“Jack, don’t be so harsh,” Mary reprimanded quietly. “Can’t you see he’s terrified? You’ll freak him out even more.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, conflicted between wanting to get information from the boy and respecting human considerations. It was a skill he was still learning. “But what if the man he saw was the kidnapper? We need more information.”

“We should get him to the police so he can get back to his dad,” Mary countered with a sharp eye sent his way.

“What kidnapper?” Mathew piped up, a tremor remaining in his voice. “You mean the one who took Catlyn?”

Jack and Mary shared a quick look, then Jack turned away, pulling the stack of papers on the case out of the glovebox in front of him. As he leafed through the victim reports, he found one on a 9-year-old girl who was reported missing three days ago. With another look to Mary and a quick flash of the paper, some dots began to connect in their mind.

“What do you know about Catlyn? Were you two friends?” Mary asked, keeping her voice light and conversational.

“She was in my class at school. When she didn’t show up on Thursday, I biked over to her house and asked her parents if she was sick. That’s how I found out she was… taken.”

“And this was something her parents told you, or did you come to this conclusion on your own?” Mary asked.

“I overheard them talking about the others who have gone missing. The old ladies’ book club are the main guys saying it was a kidnapper, at least that’s what Mrs. Powell said,” Mathew replied with a shrug.

“And you think you were kidnapped today by the same person who took Catlyn?” Jack asked, getting a bit excited now. I have a lead on the case! Maybe I can actually do this!

“Yeah,” he said simply.

“Why do you think that?” Mary continued. They were circling the main market square at this point, Mary trying to decide what to do about the boy. But Jack wasn’t wrong. They could use a lead.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. I know a bunch of people were taken in the middle of the night, like magic. And I was taken by magic,” he said, finally unfolding his limbs to lean closer to the front seat.

“Are you guys detectives? Trying to solve the mystery?” Mathew said with more enthusiasm.

Mary hesitated, but there was no reason why she should lie to the boy. At least, not entirely. “Of sorts, yeah. We were sent to get to the bottom of things here. We specialize in unsolvable mysteries, just like this one.”

“Usually, they’re monsters.” Jack added. “Or demons--” He was cut off by a sharp smack on his arm, courtesy of Mary, giving him a look of warning. Jack sank down deeper into his seat, realizing his mistake.

“Don’t listen to him, Mathew. Monsters and demons don’t exist. It’s usually just humans being… human” Mary hurriedly amended.

“Hmmmm, I don’t think it was a monster or a demon. He looked human enough to me,” Mathew replied.

“Well, demons can often appear human—”

“Jack, stop,” Mary said through gritted teeth. Jack’s eyes went wide at the reprimand and mimed zipping his mouth shut.

“He was kinda crazy though,’’ Mathew continued. “Maybe he’s one of those crackheads that live under the bridge that my brother told me about.

“Can I join in on your investigation? I have always wanted to play detective. Is it like Scooby Doo? You think it’s some monster, but it was really just a guy in a fur suit?” Mathew stuck his head through the gap between the two front seats and looked at Mary with a gleam in his eye, a sly smile breaking through his face.

Mary hesitated to answer him, weighing the risk of having the boy around, still unsure of what exactly they were dealing with. She didn’t want to put him in harm’s way, in case what they were chasing was more dangerous than anticipated. On the other hand, Jack was right. He could provide them with invaluable information about what happened, maybe even able to lead them right to the perpetrator.

In the end, she relented, seeing the too-eager face staring back at her from the back seat. Mary saw in this boy what she remembered of Dean from all those years ago, before she died, a boy so eager to grow up and take part in what the grown-ups were doing, wanting to know everything he didn’t yet understand about the world.

“… Fine. But under a few conditions, okay?”

“Of course! Anything!” Mathew replied, bouncing up and down in excitement.

“1- You do as we say. We could run into trouble if we aren’t careful, but we’re veterans in this business and know how to handle it.

“2- Just because we are doing something dangerous, doesn’t mean you can take part in it. We will handle the majority of the investigation and if we need you to stay behind for a little while, don’t fight us on it.” He nodded in understanding, trying- and failing- at suppressing a smile.

“And most importantly, 3- If we tell you to run, you run away as fast as you can and don’t stop until you reach someone you trust, whether that is your father, a neighbor, or the police. You get as far away as you can get.”

Mary was still nervous, unsure if this was the right decision, letting Mathew tag along. Even still, she stopped her circling of the town center and got on the side road that took them back to the motel.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the motel and made their way up to Jack and Mary’s room. Just as she was about to unlock the door, she stopped and turned back to Mathew. God, I feel like I’m kidnapping this kid. I can’t believe I agreed to this. “Are you sure you want to do this? Wouldn’t you rather go back to your dad, let him know you’re alright?”

“I’ll just call him in the morning. It’s fine,” he said simply.

In the light of the hallway, Mary finally got a good look at the boy, covered in mud, grass, and leaves, the mud on his knees stained with an undertone of red. As she unlocked the door and led them inside, she said, “First order of business: getting you cleaned up. Then you can get some rest, and, in the morning, you can tell us what you remember of the man who took you.”

With that, Mary got to work cleaning up the boy. She had him shower off the best he could in the ensuite, then changed into a spare shirt and sweatpants of hers, still swimming in the oversized garments. Then they got to work on cleaning up the gashes on his knees that, while not deep, were still bleeding a bit and mud had caked itself in the jagged edges of lacerated skin. Mary was no stranger to cleaning up such wounds, from her childhood as a hunter, cleaning up her father when he got hurt or recovering victims of his cases, as well as little Dean, when he would fall when playing outside, trying to climb the highest tree he could find or running around the streets with their neighbors’ children. She grabbed their First-Aid kit and began swabbing the area with antiseptic. Once it passed inspection, she lathered on antibiotic cream and bandaged up Mathew’s knees, taping a thick layer of gauze securely down, keeping pressure to staunch the bleeding while preserving most of the knees’ range of motion. Mathew was quiet as she worked, which worried her, periodically checking in with him to make sure he was okay.

Mary gave up her bed to the boy, Jack in the other, already fast asleep. Mathew followed suit, asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Mary was slower to sleep, curled up on the raggedy couch shoved in the front corner of the room, but soon enough, fell into a restless sleep.

Chapter Text

Mary awoke before the boys the next morning and set out to pick up some new clothes for Mathew that would actually fit him. She went to a local clothing store and picked out a small collection for him to choose from, in a couple of different sizes, hoping something would fit him.

On her way back to the motel, she spotted a little mom-and-pop doughnut shop opening and decided to stop in and grab something for breakfast. A bell sounded above the door as she stepped into the quaint shop, not dissimilar to the bakeries she remembered from before she died, cases of baked goods lined up in glass cases along two of the walls, a small door in the back corner that led to the kitchen - the source of the heavenly smell of fried dough and sugar. The walls were a soft orange and filled with picture frames featuring a collection of newspaper clippings, printed-off news articles, and black-and-white and colored photographs of local achievements and events, as well as crayon drawings of dogs, trees, houses, and families obviously made by young children.

“How can I help you?” a voice rang out from behind one of the display cases, taking Mary by surprise. “Ah, taking a look at the memory wall, I see.” An old man, perhaps in his 70s, hair white and wispy, wearing a dark green apron over a plaid button down and khaki slacks, came from around the case to where Mary was standing, hands on his hips as he gazed at the framed moments in time with an expression of pride laced with melancholy. “I like to document the lives of the people of this town and display them, honouring the memory of times gone by. Some of these pictures and news clippings date back to when I was a young lad, when I started this collection, memorials about local men killed in combat overseas, new restaurants opening up, announcements of integration in the local high school. When I took over this bakery from my parents 45 years ago, I decided to put my collection on the walls for all to see bits of the history of the town. About 20 years ago, I began receiving these drawings from the children in town and I thought that adding them to the wall would help round out this presentation of what made Pike Creek beautiful.” He smiled fondly at the wall before turning back to Mary. “Are you new in town? Or just passing through?’’

“Just here for a couple of days, I’m afraid,” Mary replied, returning a smile of her own. “I’m here with my… nephew. I was hoping to pick up some breakfast for him here. What do you recommend?”

“Ah, of course!” The man turned back and went back behind one of the display cases to take in the selection he had out. “We have some things still in the oven at the moment, if he likes cinnamon rolls and strudel. It should only be a few moments’ wait. How old is your nephew? What does he usually like?”

Mary buffered for a second. She can’t just say that Jack is a three-year-old in the body of a twenty-year-old, so she settled on: “He’s twenty, with the heart of a little kid.” It’s not too far from the truth. “And he loves anything covered in sugar.”

“I have just the thing,” the baker said with a wink, diving behind the counter and pulling out a monstrosity of a doughnut: a glazed doughnut with extra vanilla frosting and piled high with Lucky Charm marshmallows.

Mary let out a shocked laugh, completely unprepared for the diabetes-inducing pastry before her. Oh, Dean would get a kick out of this one!  “I think he will love that!” If nothing else, she’ll send a picture of it to the boys. She also ordered some of the strudel that was coming out of the oven, one raspberry and one apple, and a few muffins. Mary paid and bid the baker farewell, then made her way back to the motel, hoping the boys were doing alright in her absence.

********

When she got back to the room, Jack and Mathew were just waking up, despite it being already 11:00. It didn’t bother Mary too much, as she wanted Mathew to get as much rest as he needed before they set out for the day. She got him changed into some of the new clothes she bought, thankful that most of it fit. As he changed, Mary put on a pot of coffee and laid out the breakfast spread on the small table in front of the couch she spent the night on.

“Jack, I got something for you,” Mary called as she got out the bag with the doughnut. “If you don’t want it, that’s totally okay, but I think you’ll like it.”

Jack approached her cautiously and gingerly took the bag from her. He broke into a bright grin when he saw what was inside, quicky extracting the doughnut. “Thank you, Mary. I really appreciate it.” Looking back up at her with a conspiratory grin, he said, “Sam doesn’t need to know about this, does he?”

Mary chuckled. “It’s our little secret,” she said with a wink. Jack sat down on the couch and began to eat, struggling at first to figure out the best way to eat it. “Is it good?” Mary asked after he took the first couple of bites. Jack nodded enthusiastically, his mouth too full to respond properly. Maybe things are getting better between us, she thought hopefully.

They were soon joined by Mathew who dove right into the selection, grabbing a double chocolate muffin with a quick word of thanks to Mary.

As they ate, Mary thought about how to best move forward, if they should question Mathew about last night or start on interviewing the families of the victims first. Interviews are the usual first order, after gathering police information, but if Mathew knew enough from his encounter, they might not be as crucial.

“You don’t have to now, but when you’re ready, do you want to tell us more about what happened last night?” Mary asked, trying to leave the options open, in case he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Yet, the boy in front of her now was so different from the one they picked up off the side of the road, no longer shaking like a leaf in fear, but at ease, joking around with Jack next to him on the faded couch.

Mathew stilled for a moment, making Mary a bit nervous. “I should probably call my dad, actually,” he responded.

Mary had forgotten all about that, which she did feel guilty about. How irresponsible! “Of course. Use my phone.” She grabbed her phone from her jacket pocket and opened it to the phone display to give to him. The phone rang for a moment, placed on speakerphone so Mary could hear, before it was picked up.

“Jackson Bridgers, here. How can I help you?” the man on the other side replied.

“Hi dad! It’s me,” Mathew said, more cheerful than a formerly abducted child should have been.

“Mathew?! Where are you? I’m on my way to the police station right now. Did you try running away again? If you did, you are so grounded,” Jackson responded.

“Nah, I was kidnapped,” Mathew responded simply, as if this was a normal thing.

“Mathew, quit playing around. Where are you right now?”

“I’m at the motel, you know, the one the crackheads hang around at?” Mary put her head down on her hand when she heard that. This was not going as well as she hoped.

“Is the… kidnapper at the motel? Are they asking for a ransom or something? Or is this one of your little games?” His father’s voice was fatigued, as if this was a normal occurrence.

“Nah, but the lady who saved me is here. Do you want to talk to her?”

Jackson sighed before replying. “Yes, I would appreciate it.”

Mary took this as her cue to take over, leaning closer to the phone so her voice would be picked up. “Hello, Mr. Bridgers. My name is Mary. Your son is safe with me, I can assure you.” She wasn’t exactly sure how to explain this situation, if it came to it, so she might have to wing it.

“And I’m supposed to trust this? I don’t know if you know what’s going on in this town, but it is very difficult to trust much of anyone right now.” Jackson’s voice lowered at this, like he was trying to keep Mathew from hearing him.

“I know, sir. In fact, that is why your son is with us right now. He was taken by the kidnapper that has been going around town, and we happened to drive by at just the right time and place to save him. We are part of the investigation team looking into the case and your son could give us invaluable information. If you would like to come up to be with him, please do, but he is now a witness in the investigation,” Mary explained.

“Yes, I think it would be best for me to be there with my son. It would have been nice to have been notified about this earlier, though, before scaring me half to death,” Jackson responded angerly.

“I apologize for that, sir. I will send you the motel and room number we are in. I will warn you that anything you learn from us during this proceeding may not be repeated to anyone, under any circumstances while the case is open, do you understand?” Mary said, not sure if this is an actual rule of the police or FBI but going with it anyway.

“…Okay. I will see you in a little bit. And if I find there has been harm done to my son, you are in deep shit. I don’t care if you are junior detective or a full-blown Fed, do you understand me?” he replied, his anger building.

“Loud and clear,” Mary replied with a nod. “I will send you the details from this number, so expect that shortly.” She tried to sound official, not sure if it was convincing.

Without giving a reply, Jackson hung up, Mary and Jack sharing a nervous look.

“Wait, you guys are actually detectives? That’s so cool! I thought this was just a side gig of yours,” Mathew asked.

“… Yeah. We, ah, work for the Delaware state division of the FBI. Jack and I are on the official investigation team for the case,” Mary said as she sent off the information to Jackson.

“It’s true. We have the badges and everything,” Jack added with a smile, trying to cover up his nervousness.

“That is so cool!” Mathew said, bouncing on the couch. “Wait, so I get to be a part of an FBI case?”

“Yeah. Though some of the stuff we may ask of you can’t be told to anyone, okay?” Mary wanted to make sure of this, especially if they ended up getting deep into some shit. Mathew nodded in agreement, putting Mary at ease.

“Okay, then. Let’s start by telling me about what you remember after waking up in the woods. Did you see anyone else there other than the kidnapper?” At this, Mathew began sinking back into himself again. Obviously, something upset him. Mary worried that she had overstepped with the question, but Mathew spoke up, voice a bit quieter than before.

“Ummmm, yeah.” His thumb nervously tapped on his knee as he began. “I didn’t get a good look, but I could see other people there on the ground. There was this clearing where I woke up, and they were just… lying there.” He looked up at Mary. “I think they were dead.”

“Oh, honey,” Mary said, her heart breaking even further.

“Did you recognize any of the bodies?”

“Jack!” Mary scolded. Then, to Mathew, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to ans—”

“I saw Catlyn.”

The room went silent.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, all three of them jumping at the sound of it.

“I think that’s your dad. I’ll go check it,” Mary said as she stood up, heart still pounding.

She undid the double lock on the door and opened it to reveal a man, perhaps in his early forties, with short, curly black hair, wearing dark blue slacks and a pale green dress shirt like he was on his way to the office.

“Hi,” the man started. “I’m looking for… Mary?”

Mary breathed a sign of relief. “That’s me, yes. Come in. Mathew is just in here.” She opened the door to let the man in. As soon as Mathew caught sight of him, he jumped up, running to him and throwing his arms around the man’s neck, the man hugging him back just as tightly.

“Oh, kiddo. I’m so glad you’re okay,” Jackson said, releasing his son. “Tell me what happened.”

Mary led him to the couch, Jack standing to make room for the man, who sat down with Mathew still hugging his side.

“Mathew was just telling us what happened last night,” Mary explained. “Mathew, do you want to tell your dad about it? Jack and I still have a few questions for you before we’re done, but it’s up to you how much you tell him.”

Mathew started from the beginning again, from going to bed the night before and waking up deep in the forest.

“It was really scary,” Mathew continued, leaning deeper into his dad’s side. Jackson pulled him closer, his arm around Mathew’s shoulders. “There were so many dead people there, most I didn’t recognize. But, dad, I saw Catlyn. I know I did.”

“Your friend Catlyn? I though we just saw her the other day?” Jackson asked, pulling back to look at his son more clearly.

“She went missing three or four days ago,” Mary interjected. “She was one of the victims we were sent to investigate.”

Then, another thought occurred to Mary: “Mathew, do you remember how many people you saw in the forest?” If the numbers matched up, even loosely, that could help pinpoint if all the disappearances were connected.

Mathew thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t remember. There were a lot, though. Maybe like 10?”

There had been 12 disappearances in town. That’s close enough.

“There was a man there, too,” Mathew began again. “Like, he was alive but was acting super weird, like worse than the crackheads. He was whispering something, but I couldn’t hear what. But he was dragging the… the people around the ground. I couldn’t tell who or why, I just thought he was crazy.”

“Do you remember what he looked like? This man?” Jack asked. He had been quiet for most of the conversation, staying off to the side and letting Mary take the reins.

“I mean, it was kinda dark, so not really. But he was kinda short. Shorter than my dad, for sure.” Mathew replied. “Ummm, definitely a white guy, maybe with blond-ish hair? That’s all I remember.”

Lucifer… Jack thought. He immediately shook his head at the thought. Lots of guys are short with blonde hair. And anyway, Lucifer was dead. There was no coming back from that. So why can I not shake this feeling…

“So, anyway, I sorta realized I definitely shouldn’t be there, so I tried to sneak away. The guy looked busy, so I didn’t think he’d notice, but he did. I started running, but I didn’t know where I was, so I just kept running. That’s when you guys found me,” Mathew finished.

“And thank God you did,” Jackson added, with a look of gratitude to Mary and Jack. “Are you hurt anywhere? Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, turning back to his son.

“Well… my knees got scratched up a bit, but that’s about it,” Mathew replied with a shrug.

“I already cleaned and bandaged them up last night,” Mary added.

“Thank you,” Jackson said again. “I am just glad Mathew is okay. These are scary times.” Mary nodded in agreement. “Is there anything else you need from him, or is he good to go home?”

Mathew sat up with a start. “No, dad! I want to help with their investigation!”

“Absolutely not, young man,” Jackson said, with a sharp look toward his son. “You are going home and getting some rest, where I can keep an eye on you. I already took the day off of work, so don’t even try it.” Mathew deflated at this.

Mary got up and grabbed her purse from the other end of the couch. “Here is my card. You can call this number if you need any help, if you remember anything else, or you find anything new.” She gave one to Mathew and one to Jackson.

With that, they gathered their things and made to leave, Mary handing Jackson his son’s clothes from the night before. She wished she had been able to wash them properly before sending them home, but there was little she could do.

At the door, as they were saying goodbye, Mathew turned back to the Winchesters. “Thank you again for saving me last night,” he said, and rushed in to hug Mary and Jack before running back to his dad. They gave one last wave from their car, and then they were gone.

Chapter Text

After Mathew and Jackson left, Mary and Jack sat down on the couch in their run-down motel room, the information papers for the case spread out in front of them on the table. Jack set to organizing the write-ups, mostly consisting of police records and online correspondences of the victims. He piled up the different victims based on last known location and location of residence, trying to make sense of the different patterns of attacks. Mary sat nearby on her computer, looking into news articles from the area for any clues that they may have missed earlier.

After a while, Mary asked, “What do you know about the Deer Man?”

Jack thought for a moment before replying, “I remember something about a creature that was a humanoid deer a while ago. I didn’t think they were still around though?”

“Well, when we picked up Mathew last night, he mentioned his dad warning him about the Deer Man if we went out into the woods at night. It could be something to look into,” Mary explained.

“Mathew didn’t mention seeing a Deer Man, though. He said that there was just a man in the forest among the kidnapped people. What if this isn’t for us? What if this is a normal case of kidnapping?” Jack countered. Something still didn’t feel right about it all. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this case wasn’t as straightforward as a simple monster, that there was something… human to it.

“It’s possible, but usually when the police can’t figure it out, that means it’s our type of thing. Trust me, I may be out of practice a bit still, but I have a long history of hunting,” Mary replied. “Do you want to investigate the woods first or question some of the victims’ families?”

Jack began collecting a selection of the case documents. “Let’s start with questioning a couple families from the neighborhood last night, then in the evening, we can look into the woods?” When he looked back up from the table of papers, he was met by Mary’s gaze, a proud smile on her lips.

“Let’s go then!” She said, grabbing the car keys.

**********

Jack and Mary spent the rest of the day interviewing three of the families they had scoped out the night before in the neighborhood by the woods: the Williams and the Lings, as well as Mrs. Peterson’s caregiver.

According to the Williams, their daughter Clara had gone to the woods a week and a half ago for an evening hike, a common practice of hers when she came home from college. She is a graduate student and the University of Delaware, currently finishing up her Master’s degree in psychology. Clara had grown up hiking and exploring these woods, so it was unlike her to get lost, especially without any contact with her family. She went out at around 5:00 Thursday evening, raising suspicion and concern when she hadn’t returned by dinner time a few hours later. The report was made Friday morning when still no sign of her came. Her family and friends, alongside the police, searched the woods over the course of Friday and Saturday, but still nothing. She was the sixth victim of the kidnappings in the area, of the twelve reported in the past month.

After that, Mary and Jack went a couple of streets away to the home of Isabella Ling, the 15-year-old victim that went missing on Sunday. According to her family, she had gone to the woods around 7:00 that night with a group of classmates. Her parents were hesitant to let her go but seen as Isabella hardly ever got invited to group activities at school, they let her go on the condition that she kept her phone with her with the GPS tracker on. By midnight, she still hadn’t returned, but her location was still live. Her parents followed the signal and found her phone lying on the ground, with Isabella nowhere in sight. They tried to file her disappearance with the police right then, but the police told them to wait until the next day to see if she showed back up. Monday rolled around, and still no sign of her, so the police scanned the woods again, like they had with Clara. Again, there was no sign of her.

In talking with these families, Jack and Mary learned that there was a coalition of families of the missing victims who worked to petition the police to do more in their investigations, but as of now, nothing had come of it. The police were inclined to let the case go cold due to “lack of evidence” and suggested the victims all simply ran away and there was little they could do at that point. The families weren’t taking this answer, of course, and had set up their own independent investigations into the disappearances. Mary sent the coalition information to Jackson, hoping that he and Mathew could give them some more information, just as he gave them.

Angela Peterson was the 89-year-old woman who disappeared from her home Monday night, discovered and reported by her caregiver, Marcia. Mrs. Peterson had been receiving in-home care from Marcia for the past seven years, and in that time, the two had built up a sort of mother-daughter relationship, a fact that Marcia imparted on Mary and Jack in their interview. Mrs Peterson had no history of wandering off, nor did she have many contacts or friends outside of her daughter and grandchildren, all of whom live out of state. On Monday, Marica left Mrs Peterson’s home after settling her in bed for the night at about 8:00. There was a tight security system and reliable locks on the doors, so there would have been an alert if anyone had broken in. There was nothing that night. When Marcia came back Tuesday morning, about 9:00, Mrs Peterson was nowhere to be found, nor was there any sign of forced entry. Marcia called the police to report her disappearance, who confirmed the house’s security system was not triggered, as it would have alerted them right away. With a lack of evidence of a break-in, the police said that Mrs Peterson must have just wandered off, and that they would send out some patrols to look for her. Marcia called Mrs Peterson’s remaining family, living two states away now, to see if they could come and help with the investigation. They arrived on Thursday but haven’t made any further progress in their search.

Mary was a bit put out after the interviews, not really gaining the insight she was hoping for going into it. She was hoping to find strong clues as to who or what was kidnapping all of these people, but there were so few connections between the victims. At first, she was hoping that Mathew’s mentioning of the Deer Man would be a good lead, especially because of the amount of the victims last seen going into the woods or living not far from them, but it doesn’t track with the number of victims who were nowhere near the woods at all, like Mrs Peterson.

With little left in the way of a lead, she decided to dig around for information about the Deer Man. She and Jack made their way to the local library, where Mary set to looking at newspaper articles on their microfilm viewer as well as physical books on local legends while Jack took over the internet research.

**********

They worked in silence the rest of the day, until about 8:30 when the library began closing up, packing up their notes and belongings and making their way to the car.

“Okay, so I did some looking around online and I did find some stuff,” Jack started, once they got to the car.

“Oh, good! I wasn’t able to find much, unfortunately. I expected a longer list of disturbances in a town like this, but not so much. What did you find?” Mary asked as she backed the car out of the parking lot.

“There have been a couple reports of a so-called Deer Man in the past 50 years, with one a couple towns over in 1993, but nothing else attached to them and no pattern. Researching the creature, however, was very interesting. There are a number of different of Deer People across the Appalachian region, some of them men, some women in appearance, but haven’t shown much in the way of routine violence like this, just intimidation. Deer Women specifically have a history of violence, but mainly against men who commit harm toward a woman or child.” Jack hesitated for a moment. “So, I don’t think that it’s a Deer Man,” He finished a bit awkwardly.

“Okay… but you said you found some stuff? Was it just background information on the creature or was it anything else?”

“I did branch off to look at other strange occurrences in the area and found a series of murders in town. A guy got killed a couple months ago, which wouldn’t be surprising, but there was a little footnote that I noticed in one of the reports. Almost a decade back, a woman and her child were killed in their home in the middle of the night, and this guy was the only witness, supposedly. What’s more, a former police officer who worked here around the time of the murders was found dead as well. They were found dead in the same fashion: beat to death with a hammer.”

“And you think they’re connected to the current case at all?” Mary asked skeptically.

“I am not sure… but…” Jack was unsure if he should share with Mary the thought that has been plaguing him all day, since Mathew’s recount of his meeting with the kidnapper. “This is the town where Nick, Lucifer’s vessel, was from. The woman and her child killed was his wife and child. It could be a coincidence, two strings of killings and kidnappings centered in this town, but…”

Mary was silent for a while, thinking over what she knew about Lucifer’s former vessel, which was admittedly very little. “I think I remember seeing that in the newspapers I was looking through, but I didn’t think much of it since it was an isolated event.”

They had reached the motel by that point, so they unloaded their things and regrouped back in the room. Mary continued: “My other thought was maybe there was a coven of witches in town planning some sort of ritual. I’ve seen a few cases of witches kidnapping a group of people for all kinds of spells requiring sacrifices. But outside of that, I don’t have much of a lead, unfortunately.”

Jack nodded in understanding. “So, are we going out to the woods to check it out? If we get together a good array weapons, witch-killing bullets, knives, whatever, we should be set.”

“Agreed.” Mary pulled out a map of the woods that she had printed off at the library and set it down on the table. “So, based on the description Mathew gave us and the general location we were at when we picked him up, we should start about here:” She circled a section of the woods with a Magic Marker close to the main road. “We can start closer to the road and make our way further in. Mathew seemed to indicate that most, if not all, of the victims were there in the clearing, so it should be easy enough to find, as long as they are still there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jack confirmed.

With that, they began packing a duffle bag with a variety of weapons to suit basically any foe: witch-killing bullets, hex bags, pre-made spells (courtesy of Rowena), machetes, and an assortment of knives and guns.

With that, they set off to the woods, trying to prepare themselves for what they may find there.

*******

It was 10:00 at night, long past Mathew’s bedtime, but he just couldn’t go to sleep. His mind kept running through the past 24 hours, the insanity of his kidnapping, meeting Jack and Mary, and now he’s just supposed to go on living the same?

Now that he thought about it, Mary had agreed to let him join in on the investigation, so long as he kept himself safe and listened to her. So what was he still doing here in his house? He should be out in the woods looking for that kidnapper!

Mathew jumped out of bed and threw on some better investigation clothes: jeans and a thick sweatshirt with his blue gym shoes. Once he was properly changed, he went over to his desk and grabbed the flashlight he kept in there for late-night reading, then reached the window and quietly slid it open. A soft breeze flowed in, not too chilly, but not particularly warm, either. He lifted himself onto the ledge and swung his legs over before slowly sliding down to the bit of the roof just below. After that, it was just a matter of sliding to the edge of the roof and braving the eight-foot drop to the ground.

Once his feet hit the earth, he took off running toward the woods.

******

Mary pulled the car over on the side of the road a quarter of a mile from where they picked up Mathew and got up, grabbing the duffle bag of weapons from the back seat. Jack followed suit and grabbed a few weapons from the bag, slipping them in pockets and waistbands for easy access. Once they were set, Mary locked the car and forged onto the path ahead.

They walked through the woods, trying to keep a bit of a zigzag path to cover as much ground as they could. Jack worried that they would get lost, overwhelmed with the monotony of the trees, but Mary was able to keep them on the path she had devised.

They went in the way for the better part of two hours before they saw anything. Jack found a backpack lying against one of the trees, but no one else was around. Deciding to look in it, they found packets of trail food, a bottle of water, and a first kit, along with a collection of small wildflowers, rocks, and other trinkets. There was no identification on anything in it, though, so it was almost impossible to know if it had belonged to any of the victims.

This was a step in the right direction, though. No one just abandons their hiking bag without a reason, and with these woods being fairly safe, the only danger Mary could surmise was that of the kidnapper. Besides, a number of the victims were experienced hikers and would have carried a bag with them on longer hikes.

And so, they continued on, shortening the scope of the zigzags in line with the location of the bag.

It wasn’t too much longer before they came upon the first body. It was a young woman, perhaps 30, lying on the ground in the same fashion you would a coffin. Her face was tinged blue, and her clothes were torn in a few places, like they had gotten caught on sharp tree branches.

Mary crouched by her shoulder, checking for any sign of life, be it a faint pulse, shallow breath. She waited for almost a minute, but it was inconclusive. Mary wasn’t entirely sure the faint heartbeat was the woman’s or her own echoing through her fingers.

They were certainly on the right track.

Mary led the way again, now forging a direct path forward from the body, keeping their eyes open for any others they may come upon.

It was only a few minutes before they found the rest.

Just like Mathew described, the bodies were arranged on the ground in a clearing, but now Jack and Mary could see that they were arranged in a sunburst design, staggered radial lines around a point in the middle. They could see now that the woman they passed had been placed there as the outer point in the pattern.

“Mary, count the bodies,” Jack whispered. “Why are there 20 bodies here? Only 12 had been reported when we left home.”

“And Mathew only saw 10 last night. Maybe the kidnapper got busy since then,” she said, unsure.

But eight more victims in a day? That doesn’t match with the pattern established thus far.

Mary directed Jack to keep watch while she checked for signs of life from a few of the nearest bodies. They also were inconclusive, either having no pulse, or such a low one that it couldn’t be felt clearly.

The only thing that made Mary hesitate to say they were dead was the odd warmth coming from the skin of the bodies. Supposedly, some of these were weeks old by this point and should have long gone cold. But there was still give to the skin of their necks and an undercurrent of warmth.

Jack paced the clearing, trying to dissipate nervous energy while he scanned for any movement. If it really was Lucifer’s old vessel, what was he doing here? What was his aim?

Jack saw movement behind the tree line, just out of the corner of his eyes, but as soon as he turned toward it, it was gone.

A few feet away, Mary heard the rustling of leaves, but she could see no obvious source. She stood up from the body she was surveying, circling the inner part of the clearing, nearing the center point of the sunburst, drawing her gun and clicking off the safety.

******

Mathew picked his was through the woods, ducking below branches and trying to stay as quiet as he could. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was headed, but there was something, some feeling, that was almost guiding him along to his goal. He kept the beam of the flashlight steady before him, helping him avoid any gnarly roots waiting to take out his ankles.

He remembered little of his flight from the kidnapper the night before, outside of his silent plea for help, to reach safety. And somehow, that led him right to Jack and Mary.

He didn’t know why, but he knew that would work again so he could find them again, when they confront the kidnapper.

Before too long, the trees gave way to a familiar clearing, bodies lying prone along the ground.

Mathew was not alone, though. He could see figures in the center of the clearing, their identities shrouded by the dark. He quickly switched off the flashlight and hit behind a nearby tree, peering through the branches to try to make sense of the scene before him.

One of the figures jolted suddenly, whirling around and pointing something at another figure, now appearing from the other side of the clearing.

“Jack! Get over here, now!” Mathew heard from the distance, confirming the identities of two of the figures. That new guy must be the kidnapper, then, he thought, though he still could not identify him.

Jack ran over to where Mary was positioned, drawing a knife from his waistband and joining the confrontation.

******

No, it can’t be him, Jack thought.

In the pale light of the moon, he caught sight of a familiar face, one he had hoped to never see again.

“Hello, Jack. It’s nice to see you again,” Nick said. “I know what you must be thinking, but no, I am not Lucifer. I am… was his vessel. But I’m a free man now!” He smiled, or what must have been the attempt at a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes and looked unnatural on the features.

“If you aren’t Lucifer, then what the hell is all of this?” Mary said, not lowering her gun an inch, her gaze flickering to the bodies surrounding them.

“Oh, nothing! Nothing at all. Just a little… pet project,” Nick responded, looking down at the body nearest him, a young girl, maybe 12 years old, with long black hair, face expressionless.

Jack hated that he was right about this one. He hoped dearly that he was wrong in his initial thought of it being Lucifer.

But this wasn’t Lucifer. He was gone, defeated for good. So why did this still stink of him? Just because he wears the same face? Jack knows the difference between the vessels and their possessors, knows that they don’t always align in temperament or personality, but again, it was something he couldn’t shake.

He stepped closer to Nick, cocking his head to the side as he looked closer at the man. His grace was still dormant, healing, or nonexistent, as far as he was aware, but he wished for it to return again like it had with Deen, those few months ago.

And for just a moment, he felt a flicker of something, saw a glimpse into the man before him and saw…

Just a man, the flame of a mortal soul, weakened, almost extinguished, but holding on.

“He’s telling the truth. It’s not Lucifer,” He called back to Mary.

“That’s great, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about having him in front of me,” Mary retorted. “Tell us what you were doing killing all of these people. What’s your aim?”

“Oh, no! You’ve got it all wrong. They aren’t dead,” Nick responded, a crooked smile spreading over his face. “They’re simply sleeping, see?” He kicked the leg of the body next to him, causing the lower body to flip over, twisting at the torso. But otherwise, it remained motionless.

“Damn it! Now you made me mess up my pattern!” Nick grumbled as he stooped to reposition the body.

As he did so, Mary walked up to Jack, whispering, “What did you see? I know you saw something.”

“He’s just… human,” Jack responded absently, his wind wandering a bit, trying to take in the scene around him. “He looks like Lucifer, sounds like him, but he isn’t…”

“Yeah, well, that is the nature of vessels. At least now we know we don’t need anything special to put him away,” Mary responded. “We still need to figure out what he’s up to, though.”

“It’s a simple matter, really,” Nick said, jumping back up from rearranging the body. “Since I was, in your eyes, freed from the shackles of being Lucifer’s vessel, I have been wandering around, trying to find my place in the world. I mean, I have spent a long time bouncing between being his vessel and not, that I wasn’t sure where I was going in life! So, I did some soul-searching and realized I still had some unfinished business left to attend to.”

“Arty and Frank,” Jack supplied.

“Those assholes,” Nick sneered as he began pacing. “Arty, my friend, my neighbour for years! Lying to cover for some dick cop that was stupid enough to get possessed by a low rank demon. They got what they deserved.”

“Killing them won’t bring your wife and child back, you know that,” Mary tried rationalizing with him.

“I don’t give a flying fuck! You Winchesters always think everyone else has to bend to your world view, your set of morality. You know, when I killed people before, I thought it was Lucifer’s satisfaction making it feel so good. Turns out, it was me, especially when it was deserved! I learned that with Arty and the cop, and I am glad for it. I finally found where I fit in this world. But now, I have no one to share in this new-found direction. That’s where these… fine specimens come into play.”

The realization downed on Jack in that same minute, dread dripping down his spine: “You’re resurrecting him, aren’t you?”

********

Mathew could only hear snippets of the conversation between the three, but he was able to gather enough from context clues to figure out what was going on, though it made no sense. If this guy was a murderer already, why is he still wandering around? Why hadn’t he been locked up by the police?

Was he one of the monsters Jack had mentioned? Or is he just human?

“You’re excited to reunite with dear old dad, aren’t you, Jack?” Nick asked.

Now, Mathew wasn’t a star student in Sunday school, but he knew enough to know Lucifer and the Devil. There was no way Jack could be his son! As far as I know, the Devil didn’t have any children outside of Hell’s demons, and anyway, Jack was so nice! I must have misheard. There was no way!

The silence that filled the clearing confirmed it for him, though.

Jack finally spoke up after a minute, speaking low enough that Mathew almost couldn’t hear him say: “He’s gone. We made sure of it. Even if you found some way, just leave it. I want nothing to do with him, or with you for that matter. Just because he got Kelly pregnant, doesn’t mean he’s my father. The Winchesters are more like my fathers, and certainly Castiel, above all. These people don’t need to suffer for your twisted, sick longing for Lucifer.”

“It’s too late for that, I hate to say. The ritual is almost complete!” Nick gloated.

Oh no, what did I get myself into here? Mathew asked himself. These people are psychotic!

But even still, he found he couldn’t turn away, either out of fear of being found out or out of intrigue, he wasn’t sure which.

Nick began chanting in some language Mathew had couldn’t identify, first, quiet, raising in volume as he went. Soon, an eerie gray light began to light up the center of the clearing, from a source he couldn’t see. Mathew crouched lower behind the tree, now truly afraid of what he was witnessing.

But he could not look away.

A line of blinding white light grew from the center of the light, inching longer with the chanting, now at a deafening volume.

Suddenly, the chanting cut out, the light fizzling out with it, replaced by two points of bright blue light.

Like eyes shining out.

“Be at peace,” voice echoed through the clearing.

Nick dropped to his knees and fell onto his side, unmoving.

“Jack?” Mary’s shaking voice called out. “What’s going on? What did you do?”

“I am making right all that was wrong,” the voice said, as the blue lights turned on to her. “Be at rest, Mary. Rejoin your family.” Jack’s hand gripped her shoulder, and she fell away into a rain of sparks, like the embers of a dying firework.

The blue points of light began to dim as Mathew found his footing again and ran all the way home.