Carry On

“Look, I a-already talked to the police,” Jenna sobbed, her dark hair falling in front of her face and obscuring her view of the two men. They didn’t look like Federal Marshalls, and although they had badges she had an odd feeling about them.

“We know that, Ms. Munn. Jenna,” the taller of the two put his hand on hers softly, his blue eyes reflecting the pain that she was feeling right now. “I understand that this is hard. It’s never easy to lose someone you’re close to, let alone the way you did. We want to find whoever did this and put them away before they can cause anybody else the pain they’re causing you and Jasmine. So please, can you help us?”

Something in his voice and expression made her want to trust him. He was a man who’d seen pain, she could tell that much, and he’d done nothing to make her think he had any ulterior motives. It was just something about this whole Marshall business that was bothering her.

“O-okay. Well, we went to a party a couple of nights ago - it was Saturday,” she clarified, and they both nodded, the stockier one not looking overly concerned, his gaze wandering around the room. “Jill isn’t much for parties, but it’s her first year of University and she hadn’t even went to her own graduation party, so Jasmine and I kind of made her go. It wasn’t awful or anything – we introduced her to some people we knew so she had some people to talk with, you know, just your average party. Jill said she wasn’t feeling good, so I brought her home. I was ready to get out of there too, I’m not huge on parties myself,” she stopped to take a long breath and push her hair back off of her face. She was pretty – she had brown doe eyes, although right now they were red and had bags underneath of them – high cheekbones, elegant lips, she reminded Dean of a model from a magazine. One that had been drug through hell and back, but nevertheless she was beautiful.

“So you drove her home?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Yeah, I was the D.D,” she confirmed.

“There was nobody following you or anything like that?” Sam asked her, and she thought on it for a moment before shaking her head.

“No, I don’t think we even saw another vehicle the whole way home,” she answered, and while she didn’t acknowledge it she saw the look that the two of them shared.

“So then after that…”

“We got home and Jill went straight to bed. I checked on her before I went to bed and she was passed out face-down in her pillow,” she managed a tiny chuckle before the sound died in her throat. “I went to the bathroom and got some Tylenol for her and put it on her nightstand with a glass of water, and then I went to bed. I didn’t wake up until early in the morning.”

“We were told you smelled something burning…?”

“Yeah, that kind of smoky smell that burns your nose. I’d thought maybe something had short-circuited and the place had caught fire. I pulled on my sweater and went to Jasmine’s room, but the door was open and she wasn’t there, so I opened Jill’s door and…” she shut her eyes tight, as if it would get rid of the image of her best friend dead and covered in her own blood.

“And found her,” ‘Bobby’ softly finished for her. Jenna nodded, unable to do much else as sobs began to wrack her frame again. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into him, which caught him off guard for a moment before he put his arms around her.

“It’ll be all right Jenna. We’ll find whoever did this to her,” he assured her, but she pulled back.

“How? I heard the police say there isn’t any evidence to even start looking for the killer. How the hell do you think you two will manage to find whoever did it?” she demanded, her brown eyes so full of pain Sam wanted to flinch. She was young, only twenty-one; she shouldn’t have to face this.

“We’ll find whoever did it,” Dean seconded, and she turned to him. Those brown eyes seemed to steal the breath from him. They were too honest and far too wise for such a young university student. They’d seen things beyond her years, and Dean wished he could take it back for her, let her live a normal life.

“You need to tell me the truth,” she insisted, and they both began to reiterate what they’d just said.

“No, not about that. I know you aren’t Federal Marshalls… you just aren’t… aren’t right for Marshalls. So tell me who the hell you are and what you’re doing here,” she hiccupped, and Dean cast a slightly panicked look in his little brother’s direction.

“You’re right. We aren’t Marshalls. But we are going to find what killed your best friend,” Sam allowed, and she turned her gaze back to him. There was something about her that was almost otherworldly, in her elegance and grace when she moved, and Sam had a feeling that she had something to do with why he’d been so drawn to this case.

“What do you mean, what? Don’t you mean who?” she asked, and Sam sighed.

“We aren’t sure it’s just a person, Jenna,” Dean told her, and her eyes widened, confusion written on her face.

“What are you talking about? Are you crazy? Oh my God, what if you’re here to kill me and Jasmine too…” she began to scramble backwards, but Dean quickly grabbed her arm. Jenna fought him for a few moments before realizing that it would have been futile. She went limp, catching Dean off guard before he hauled her up and sat her back down on the couch.

“Just do it – just make it quick. It’s better than being here wondering what the hell I could have done to save her,” she told them, her eyes shut tight. The brothers shared a look, wondering if they weren’t dealing with a crazy person themselves.

“We aren’t here to hurt you Jenna, we’re here to help,” Sam told her. She cracked open an eye, and when she saw that neither of them looked about to attack her she opened her other eye and seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“What do you mean, it’s better than wondering?” Dean asked, and she ran a hand through her hair again before slipping a ponytail holder off of her wrist and putting her long hair up, keeping it off of her face.

“Jill’s like a little sister to me, she always has been. Even when we were kids… I always felt responsible for her, you know? Like it was my job to make sure she was okay. I never understood why, but I did. She didn’t come from a great family; her parents were nice, but her dad was a mean drunk, and her mom was gone a lot working. Then when her dad died her mom became an alcoholic. Jill was living with us here last year so she could finish high school without dealing with her mom,” Jenna explained, and she could’ve swore she saw the shorter man’s green eyes soften, and didn’t miss when his gaze flitted towards the taller one of the two for a split second before coming back to rest on her.

“I know what you mean, Jenna. So that’s why we have to find what did this to her and stop it.”

“Again with the what! How can it be a what?” she demanded, and the man sighed.

“Look, can a person really do something like that without leaving some kind of evidence behind?” he asked, and while she wanted to say yes, something told her no. The same gut feeling that had told her about these two not being Marshalls… the same one that had told her Jill’s death wasn’t just random.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted, and his expression said nothing short of ‘I told you so’.

“That’s where we come in Jenna. Now we’re going to need you to tell us some information to help us, and we want to make sure you and Jasmine are safe. Do your parents still live here?” Sam asked, and Jenna turned her brown eyes to him.

“I’m not dragging them into this. And if you’re going to do this I’m going to help; really help,” she told them, her voice giving no room for argument. Dean’s green eyes flashed, and Sam groaned internally, knowing he was about to witness two stubborn people butt heads.

“Like hell you are—”

“Don’t you dare feed me some bullshit about being a girl, or I’ll coldcock you one right now – just ask my ex boyfriend about my left hook,” she warned Dean, who felt a smirk tugging at his lips. She was feisty, and she wasn’t about to back down soon, he could tell.

“I don’t doubt that sweetheart. But the fact is, this isn’t your everyday bad guy we’re dealing with. We don’t need you getting caught in the crossfire, okay?” Dean told her.

“No. I’m helping. Jill’s my responsibility, and I’m going to do whatever I can to help, got it? So let’s be honest with each other – who the hell are you?” Dean looked to Sam and shrugged before leaning back in his chair. He’d let Sam explain, he always had been better at things like that. He let his gaze move over the girl – she had a small, fairly athletic, yet curvy, frame, and couldn’t be taller than five six. But she was pretty, Dean had to give her that, and she sure as hell didn’t seem to be lacking a personality either.

“Well I’m Sam, and that’s my brother Dean. Stuff like this… when there doesn’t seem to be any real explanation, a lot of times it’s spirits or demons. That’s where we come in – we destroy them and make sure they can’t hurt anyone else,” Sam told her, and Dean was sure she was about to pass out.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Sorry – wish I could say we were,” he shrugged, and she sat back on the couch, looking between the two of them.

“You’re serious… Okay, so what makes you think this is one of your ‘spirits’?” she asked, making quotes with her fingers and all. She was obviously expecting some kind of prank, or ridiculous explanation that would help her prove them wrong, and Dean wished she were right.

“Well, no evidence of a suspect; and you said you smelled something burning… right?” Sam’s blue eyes bored into her as she nodded, a sense of dread welling up in her stomach.

“Y-yeah,” suddenly she put two and two together, realizing what these two were getting at. Sulfur, burning, smoky smell, paranormal stuff… “You think a… a demon killed Jill?” she gasped, and they both nodded.

“You’re crazy. You’re both absolutely bat-shit crazy… why am I still here talking to you?” she asked, more to herself than either one of them as she stood up to leave the room.

“Because you know something isn’t right about this whole thing.” Dean’s voice was loud and clear, stopping her in her tracks. He was right, of course, but she didn’t want to admit that. She’d spent so long doing things for herself that she refused to let someone waltz in and tell her how and what was going on. Especially when they were talking about spirits and demons and other things that only existed on the X-Files or some equally cheesy, supernatural TV show.

“B-but a demon?” she asked, turning back to them. They both knew how scared she must have been, but neither really knew what to do. They didn’t know how she would handle it, but so far she was doing a bang-up job.

“We need to find out why,” Sam pushed, and raced to help her when her legs seemed to have just given out. He eased her down to the floor, and she pulled her knees to her chest, trying to sift through all of the new information bogging her brain.

“I just don’t understand… why Jill? She’s never done anything wrong in her life, she’s never hurt anybody…” she whispered, the tears welling up and beginning to spill down her cheeks. Sam knelt down beside her, gently wiping them away while Dean stood uncomfortably just a foot or two away.

“Sometimes they do this without the person having done anything wrong Jenna,” she bit her lip to keep from crying but nodded, and Sam offered her a small smile.

“So I say we waste the son of a bitch before he can hurt anybody else,” Dean decided, and Jenna nodded, taking his outstretched hand and standing up.