22. Aliens? Fairies? Angels? Who Knows?

"You think this'll pull him out?" I ask Sam as we're in the hunt for Dean's room.

"If this doesn't, I just might have you pull him out by his ear."

I snort a laugh.

Since the whole thing with Charlie, Sam and I have been looking into cases. As for big brother Dean, well, he's been kind of a hermit the past week. Anytime Sam or I get a case, he doesn't come along. So, the younger two Winchesters take the cases while big brother just squats in the bunker.

I rap on the door to Dean's room. I nudge it open, finding him on the floor, reading a massive book. I can't exactly see what he's reading though.

"Hey," I say casually.

Dean looks away from his reading. "Hey."

"You got a sec?" I nod towards Sam.

"Caught a case," says our younger brother, as he hands the tablet over to Dean. "Apparently something is taking people. And leaving their clothes."

"Hmm," Dean says. "About time this gig got an 'R' rating. All right. Why don't you and Jo check it out? I'll hold down the fort."

"Dean, you haven't left the bunker in a week," I say bluntly.

Dean throws the tablet on the bed behind him. "And?"

"And you can just live the rest of your life locked up in this room."

"I don't know. I got three hots and a cot. Could be worse."

"Look, we know you're worried about the Mark," says Sam.

"Yes, Sam. I am. Between what I did to Charlie—"

"Charlie forgave you. How about you forgive yourself?"

"Because I'm not exactly batting one-thousand here, you know?"

"Yeah, we do know that," I say wearily, "but staying locked up in here, sitting on the ground reading the same lore books over and over and over again, it's not helping you. You need to get back in the game for your own good. You can beat this, Dean."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yeah, you're damn right we believe that." I cross my arms.

"You know, you and Sam also believed in the Easter bunny 'til you were almost fourteen and he was twelve."

"I don't think I believed for that long," I say in annoyance.

"No I didn't," Sam insists. "Look, I was eleven."

"And a half," Dean corrects him.

"And a half. Right."

"So, what does that have to do with anything?" I ask Dean.

Dean closes the book he was reading. "Okay."

"Smart choice."

* * *

"And then—then—then there was this bright light," says our homeless witness, "and—bam—the dude's just gone. Nothing left but, uh..."

"Cheap suit and a pair of florsheims?" asks Dean.

"Pretty much."

"You see anyone else?" I ask our homeless man. We're outside the bar where the latest abduction was. This guy we're interviewing, I don't feel pity for him. He smells horrible, and he looks like he's losing a marble or two in his head. You can imagine how scared shitless he looked when three FBI agents came to talk to him. He nearly pissed himself.

"No, ma'am, officer."

"And what about, uh, a chill? Or did you smell any rotten eggs?"

"What? No, ma'am. Uh...I smelled flowers, though."

"You smelled flowers?" asks Sam. "What kind of flowers?"

"Flowery flowers."

I grimace. "Flowery flowers." I'm really tempted to shake this smelly homeless man because of his stupidity.

"Look. We all know what's going on here, okay?"

I see Dean close his eyes. "Don't say it."

"Aliens."

"He said it."

"Yeah he did," I sigh in annoyance.

"Dude was abducted," says our witness. "Believe me, I know." He looks up at the sky, and I roll my eyes. "May two-thousand-three. Those suckers, they grabbed me, and they probed me everywhere."

"Okay," I say, starting to back away from the guy who's really starting to annoy me rather than gross me out. "Thanks for your time."

"I'm talking everywhere."

My eyes scrunch, and my nose wrinkles. The imagery is scarring my brain, and I've been to Hell. But at least those I don't really remember right now. They aren't vivid in my mind like this guy's tale is.

"Well, the wheels just came flying off the bus," I say once my brothers and I are away from the witness.

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "No cold spots means it probably wasn't a ghost."

"No sulfur means no demons, so that leaves us with what? Couple of little green dudes and a bucket of lube?" I gag just saying that out loud.

Sam scoffs. "Or fairies. Or...angels."

"Ugh, I'd rather have the little green dudes," says Dean.

"All right, I'll go scope out J.P.'s place. You, uh—you ask around inside."

"Or you know what?" I cut in when I see the look on Dean's face. "We don't have to split up."

"No, no, no," Dean insists. "It's cool. I can handle a little Twenty Questions with the locals, okay?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, hey, look, it's a dive bar. It's my comfort zone." Dean dangles Baby's keys in front of Sam's face.

"All right," says Sam, who takes the keys. "Jo, you coming?"

"Since we just got rejected like we did, I guess so, Sammy." I look at Dean forlornly, patting him on the shoulder, before Sam and I head to the Impala. "Hey, mind if I drive?"

Sam gives me an odd look. "Sure." He tosses the keys, and I catch them nimbly in one hand as we exchange places. I climb in, adjusting so that I'm comfortable. It was rare for me to be upfront. But to drive the Impala, I don't think I've ever had that privilege.

"You got the address?"

"Yup."

It takes me a little bit before I get the feelers in the car. Once I do, I gun it a little bit down the road.

"This is between you and me, Sammy, okay?" I say.

"What are you talking about?"

I tweak the car's radio station.

Sam chuckles. "He is gonna kill you."

"Not if you keep your mouth shut like I'm going to about it."

A new song starts playing through the car radio: "Heat of the Moment" by Asia. I start humming it under my breath.

"Hey, Jo, you mind changing the station back now?"

I throw a look at Sam. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Just." Sam looks uncomfortable. "The song."

"Why? It's a good song."

"Just do it, please." He rubs his face.

"Okay, okay." I quickly change the station back. "That song giving you PTSD or something?"

Apparently as proof that something got to him, Sam rolls down his window to let some air circulate. He sighs in relief, pinching the bridge of his nose. I look at him strangely, pursing my lips.

"You want to tell me what that's about?" I ask.

"Um, it, uh, was part of a case Dean and I did years ago. The place we were in, we got sucked into our own twisted version of 'Groundhog Day'. It was always Tuesday, the day would always play out the same way, but...but Dean would die a different way each time."

I nearly slam on the brakes. I'm lucky I manage to keep my foot on the gas. "Sounds intense."

"I lived enough Tuesdays for the rest of my life, Jo. And each time the day started over, that damn song would always play first thing." Sam looks out the window.

"I don't blame you there. If I lived through that, I'd want that song murdered along with whoever invented it, right down to who produced it and distributed it."

"That's a little extreme."

I shrug. "That's just me. Ah, here we go. Here's a way better song." "Back in Black" by AC/DC starts playing, and for the rest of the drive to the apartment, I'm singing out loud, drumming my hands against Baby's steering wheel.

Night begins to fall when Sam and I reach the apartment. We meet with the landlord, and Sam does most of the talking. We're allowed access into J.P.'s apartment.

I go inside first, flicking on the light. The place is an utter dump. I can smell trash from a mile away. Every room is dirty and has litter on the floor. Dust is collecting on a kitchen table and on the TV.

"No wonder he was three days away from being booted," I say, wrinkling my nose. "This place is a shithole, smells like one too." I have to pinch my nose. "I feel like we should get the EPA here or wear hazmat suits." I step on the litter on the floor, investigating the guy's bathroom. I scream in horror.

"What?!" asks Sam.

"No, Sam—!" I try to warn him.

"Oh, God." He gags. The smell alone nearly makes us keel over. The sight...

"I was in Hell, but this is much worse." I feel my eyes begin to water. "Sammy, outside, now, before we both die in here and become part of the smell."

I help shove my little brother out, and we both inhale fresh air. I'm bent over, feeling bile try to escape my throat. Thankfully, it stays in.

"Y-you haven't mentioned Hell a lot since you got out, Jo," Sam says through gasps of air.

"My memory is a little fuzzy still. Hell is locked away in the back of my mind." For my sake, it shouldn't resurface. The only instance anything of that place had was when I had been helping Cas rein in Dean, who had been a demon at the time.

"I'm gonna call Dean, tell him what we found." Sam dials Dean's number and puts the phone on speaker for the both of us.

"How we looking?" is Dean's version of a greeting.

"Not great," says Sam. "Turns out J.P. was about three days from getting evicted. His landlord said the guy blasted Neil Diamond twenty-four-seven. And his bathroom was, 'Like staring into the Devil's butt.'"

"That's vivid."

"And accurate," I say. "We saw it."

"You saw the John, or, uh—"

"Don't. You got anything?"

"Yeah. I got, uh, jack with two scoops of squat. I don't know, you guys. I think we ought to just call it a night and, uh—"

"And what?" I ask. "Dean? Hello?"

"I think I got something."

"Dean!" But the call is already over. I rub my forehead. "Why do I get the feeling that his 'something' is a woman?"

"We won't know until we get there. Let's go."

"You got it."

**Look, I had always wanted to do a scene with Sam hearing "Heat of the Moment" even after "Mystery Spot". And I wanted Jo to see that effect on him.**