1.1 Mother Knows Best: A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter IX: Easy Target

Back in the warmth of her room, Jay stared out the window at the snow that flecked the glass pane. Her breath formed a small cloud in her vision as she stared across the parking lot at the light in Sam and Dean's quarters. They moved about every so often, just shadows flicking across the square of yellow. At Jay's hip, Ozzy gave a soft 'mrrow', standing briefly up on his hind legs to rub his face against her dangling hand.

"Yeah, I know, bud." She comforted him quietly, scratching her fingernails down the line of his nose where the silky black fur parted. Yanking the curtains shut and turning sharply away from the window, Jay sighed to herself. It had been a long time since she'd worked with other hunters that closely. She didn't know why she trusted those boys. She just...did. And she felt an odd reluctance in leaving them.

Dragging Ozzy's bed over to the small space heater in the corner of the room, Jay patted it in a summoning way, and the cat obediently followed her gesture, curling up on the large square cushion and tucking his nose behind his tail. Well, the night wasn't getting any younger, Jay reasoned, and, shaking her head, slipped into the bathroom to shower and get into bedclothes. Usually, she would shower for hardly more than ten minutes. But tonight, she'd allow herself a good, long soak. It had been a long day. A long soak for a long day. She deserved it.

About 30 minutes later, she came out in an old white camisole and a pair of ratty sweatpants, tugging a brush through her dark, wet hair. Ozzy opened one eye in acknowledgement of her presence as she re-entered the room, and she blew a kiss to him, then smiled to herself as she sat on the edge of the bed, setting the brush on the bedside table. Twisting her hair into a quick braid, Jay snagged her hunting notebook and retreated under the cover. Leafing through the pages as she always did before bed (it was to keep her knowledge sharp), she paused on the Pontianak, rereading its profile.

Jay herself had never actually fought one until now, but she'd once compiled notes with an older, retired hunter and gained the knowledge of them. That was back when she was still young; hardly more than a year after she'd lost her husband and the baby. She hated thinking about it. It was one of the main factors that today was so exhausting. She pursed her lips, easily reading the notes in her own untidy scrawl. Things like indications that the spirit was approaching, or nearby, such as a pleasent, flowery smell followed by a foul one, such as rotting meat.

Or, more disturbingly, the fact that the farther away it was, the louder it would sound; and, similarly, the closer it was, the softer it sounded. Always keeping you on your toes by distorting the laws of physics.

Jay shook her head. This spirit certainly did not play by the rules. But the burning, at least, had probably worked. The working word there being 'probably'. That little shadow of discomfort, of suspicion, is what held her back in Colorado. She'd have to stay. Just in case, seeing as her notes instructed that the Pontianak must be killed by a iron nail to the back of the neck. Just as a precaution, Jay had purchased some earlier in the day, and given a couple to Sam and Dean, in case they had a run-in with Casper the Bloodthirsty Ghost. Unfortunately, it had fled their minds when they were faced with her. But since they'd burned the photo, she hadn't shown up. It was odd and unsettling for Jay.

But it was, however, most likely over. She was positive about the photograph, and they'd burned it, breaking Deborah's tether to this world, and to her sister, Helen. What a terrible old crone. If only she could be untethered from this world. Jay laughed dryly, trying not to think of that in too many different ways. The laughter dimmed as she suddenly began to realize something. She sat up a bit straighter as words clicked to place in her head like pieces of a puzzle that only make sense in a spot once you've nearly finished creating it. Helen. Pontianak. Untethered. Nail.

They hadn't killed the Pontianak -- they'd released it from the hold that Helen had on it. And it was probably pissed. And probably coming after them. Now.