better man/worse than nicotine » arthur ketch

five: i'm jack.

Michael has yet to check on me today.

Something is happening. What exactly that is, well, I have no idea. I just know it's something, but the words they're speaking make no sense. Talk of an intruder and breaking said intruder's mind, but nothing more.

And it's frustrating. I'm ready to get this show on the road, for lack of a better metaphor. I'm ready to get out of here — or not really, but you get what I mean. I'm ready to see Arthur again.

I had another dream. It was longer than the last. We were making dinner in our home. Our home. Somewhere in the countryside of England, where we were able to get away from it all.

It hurt.

I close my eyes as I recount the dream. Letting my heart ache all over again. And that's when I hear it. Clear as day.

"You're sure this...half-breed is our ticket to the other side?"

Half-breed.

Half-breed.

Jack?

No...he's only supposed to be six months old, there's no way he's here and if he is, he's better off dead. This world isn't kind to humans. It obviously isn't going to be kind to a baby, regardless of the fact that he's a Nephilim.

I lay back down on the bed, closing my eyes. A particularly loud burst of thunder sounds outside my window, causing me to groan.

Just one day. One day, with some sunlight. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently it is for this place. I haven't asked, but I have a feeling the sun hasn't shone on this Earth for decades, maybe longer. It's unsettling what the darkness can do to people after so long.

There's a loud thud outside my room, which I automatically assume is something other than what it really is. But then I hear my door opening a second later, and relief floods through me.

I've made up my mind. I'm ready. I'm going to give myself to Michael. Spend an endless amount of time with Arthur in my head. Have an endless amount of good days. And let Michael have full control.

But it's not Michael who walks through my door, in fact, no one walks through. Someone is thrown through the doorway, onto the ground.

I scramble to sit up on the corner on the bed, pulling my knees into my chest. I've never seen this person before, and I'm hoping more than ever right now that this isn't a trap set up by Michael.

The kid coughs loudly, groaning from the pain that has no doubt shot up through his spine from being tossed like a rag doll onto the hard floor. He can't be any older than 16, maybe 17. But he doesn't look like he's from here at all.

No...Jack is supposed to be a baby. This can't be.

"Joy?"

My eyes snap to his. "Please tell me your name is not Jack."

He looks confused. "It...It is. I'm Jack."

"Christ, what is going on?" I mutter. "You're supposed to be six months old."

I'm supposed to be with Arthur by now. Where the hell is Michael?

"I...grew up."

"I see that," I deadpan. "What are you doing here?"

"Your brothers — Sam and Dean — they sent me here."

"Are they here?"

"No..."

"Oh," I breathe. "Thank god."

They don't need to experience this world. And better yet, they don't need to experience their little sister give herself to an archangel. If Michael goes after them while wearing my body, then...well, whatever. I won't be around to notice or be aware of it.