Title: Nothing and Everything

Chapter 13

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo sat in the car, staring at her phone. Dean or Sam? Who did she call? Dean would freak out because he’d think it could have been her and Sam would freak out because Gwen was missing. She gritted her teeth and dialed Dean.

“What’s up,” he asked instead of a standard greeting.

“We’ve had a tiny little setback.” That was one way of putting it.

“What’s that mean?” She could hear his frown over the phone. “I thought you found the place.”

“We did.”

“And you got in okay?”

“Sure.”

“Did you find anything of interest?”

“You could say that.”

“So what’s the snag?” He sounded puzzled and she definitely had his attention.

She swallowed hard and stared out the windshield at the drive. “Well…. The floor in the main room collapsed and when it did, Gwen disappeared like she went through a black hole.”

“Repeat that.”

“Gwen’s missing, Dean. She went poof in like two seconds. I can’t find her anywhere on the property.”

“You searched the building?”

“Twice and I gotta tell you, it’s damn creepy in there. All the windows are boarded up, sound carries, and if she was still there, I should have heard her.”

“How long ago?”

Jo flicked a glance at her watch. “About an hour by now. There’s no sign of her.”

He was quiet a moment. “Okay. We’ll be there within twenty-four hours.”

“Dean --”

“We’re coming, Jo.”

“What about Jack?”

He didn’t answer her question. “Sit tight. We’ll be there soon.”

Jo hoped her mother would understand Dean and Sam leaving Jack with her. She sat for awhile longer, phone in hand, then tried Gwen’s phone. It went to voicemail. While Jo hated to leave the immediate vicinity, she needed to check their motel and maybe ask around town too. She spent the next hours doing just that, and searching the property one more time just in case she’d missed something.

She hadn’t and it was with a heavy heart that she returned to the motel for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

Missing. Gwen had gone missing within seventy-two hours of them leaving the house. Well, wasn’t that just fine and dandy? Gwen and Jo just seemed to find trouble wherever they went -- just like old times. He supposed he should feel lucky it wasn’t Gwen calling to say that Jo had gone missing, but all he felt was a dropping sensation in the pit of his stomach.

He was going to need to tell Sam.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger and got up, going into the front lower room that connected to Sam and Gwen’s room. While it still had a bunch of boxes stacked along one wall, Sam had been busy laying out toys and things for Jack to play with and was on the floor with him, trying to get him interested in one toy that was supposed to be good for babies up to six months.

Sam glanced up at him. “Who was that?”

“Jo.” He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, trying to decide just what to tell him. Something that wouldn’t have him charging out after her without any planning, but would evoke the sense of urgency needed to get there quickly.

“What’s up?”

“She and Gwen need us there.” He decided not to tell Sam that Gwen had disappeared just yet. He’d wait until they were on the way.

Sam eyed him, then picked up Jack and stood. “Ellen and Bobby are both gone, Dean. You sure that’s an ‘us’? Do they need both of us? I could go alone.”

He was right. Ellen and Bobby had left that morning to go after a wraith in Oregon and wouldn’t be back for several days. Ellen had sounded practically giddy at the prospect of a wraith, too. Dean thought a long moment, staring at Sam holding Jack. Jodie would be glad to take him, but she’d have to use a sitter during her work hours. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Jack with Jodie or a strange sitter. Family friend or not, he didn’t trust Jodie to take all of the precautions. He didn’t trust anyone except family to take the precautions.

“Dean?”

He made a snap decision he never thought he’d make. They’d have to take Jack with them. “Let me take him.” He held out his hands, took Jack and carried him over to his carrier. “Go up and grab a pack of diapers and wipes and a few changes of clothes for him while I get the rest of his things packed up.”

“You’re sure?”

Dean opened his mouth to reply and no sound came out. His hands faltered in securing Jack so he could pack.

Did he need to go? Could Sam go by himself and Dean stay behind with Jack? He considered all the factors in a swirl of thought, realizing right then that he knew how his dad had felt, really knew at this moment. The agony of wondering if he was doing the right thing. The fear that he wasn’t. The nervousness that something could go wrong. Dean had never understood the depths of the indecision and pain John Winchester had likely felt taking his children with him as he’d traveled. He’d thought he’d felt some of that before, but he hadn’t. Jack was his son, his only child. The future. It would hurt him in a way he’d never been hurt if something happened to Jack.

But he didn’t have to go. Sam could go alone, meet up with Jo, and search for Gwen.

What if Gwen was deeply injured and they needed to lift her out of the area beneath the building? Sam would need him there to help. Jo was strong for her size, but she wasn’t strong enough. She wouldn’t be able to aid Sam in raising Gwen up from the lower part of that building in that case. He could always stay back at the motel, let Sam and Jo investigate further and hand Jack off to Jo if the scenario erupted where his physical strength was needed.

It wasn’t an ideal plan. In fact, it was a downright crappy plan, taking his son into potentially dangerous territory. Ideal would be Bobby and Ellen taking him. With them gone, it was either Dean stay home and not be there if they needed him or Dean go and take Jack along but be there if he was needed.

Dear God, let this be the friggin’ right thing, he thought.

“Dean?”

“We’re going. You’ll investigate with Jo. I’m just the chauffeur, errand boy, and extra muscle if you need me.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You mean Jo and Gwen. What did Jo say?” There was a slight edge of suspicion to his voice, like he’d realized Dean hadn’t told him the entire story. Probably, he’d realized it.

“We need to get moving,” he insisted, gesturing towards the stairs. When Sam had gone up the stairs, Dean rubbed his thumb gently along Jack’s cheek. “Baby’s first hunt. Damn.” He bent and pressed a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “Too soon.”

Running down a mental checklist, much like he and Jo had that first trip out after Jack’s birth, Dean packed for Jack. It was far easier now, as he packed by routine, knowing just what they’d need. He packed his own things and while Sam was busy packing for himself, he gave Jack a quick bath, changed him, and got him ready for a long trip, talking to him all the while.

Within an hour, they were ready.

Sam put his bag in the trunk. “How can one baby’s things take up more space in the trunk than two grown men’s bags?” He shook his head. “This trunk holds bodies, Dean. There should be more than enough room.”

“It’s just the way it is. Get in.”

He locked up the house, sent a text to Jo that they were leaving, and got in the car.

Sam was slipping his phone back into his pocket. “That’s strange.”

“What is?”

“Gwen still hasn’t answered the text I sent her and her phone goes to voicemail.”

Dean glanced at him and started the Impala. He waited until they were nearly an hour out before telling Sam about Gwen and he didn’t bother sugar-coating it either. “You were wondering about the urgency….”

“Yeah, what’s going on? What’d they find?”

“It’s not about what they found, but what’s missing. Gwen disappeared in the building. Happened about three hours ago by now. We’re driving all night with a brief stop now and then for us and Jack. We’ll get there. We’ll find her.”

An alarmed frown tugged Sam’s brow down. “What happened?” He shook his head. “Never mind, I’ll call Jo, you just…. Floor it, Dean.”

They made it in record time. Jo opened the door and helped them bring their things in, kissing Dean before taking Jack from his carrier and holding him like doing so comforted her. She didn’t seem surprised to see Jack and he wondered if she’d called Ellen. Dean concentrated on setting up the pack and play while Jo and Sam talked.

“I looked, Sam, I did. I was all over that building several times.” Jo hugged Jack against her.

“The floor caved in? Are you sure she wasn’t trapped under rubble?”

“Yes. There wasn’t enough rubble to crush her, just floorboards and she should have fallen straight down. I swear to you, she’s not there or if she is, I can’t see her.”

“Okay.” There was a hint of panic in Sam’s voice, but he was holding himself together much better than Dean had expected he would. Either that or he was taking a page from Dean’s book and shoving his feelings deep down inside him. Dean suspected the latter was closer to the truth. “Come sit at the table and start at your arrival in town. Walk me through it.”

She glanced at Dean and joined Sam at the table. “We arrived, got the room, had some dinner, made sure we could find the place and got a good night’s sleep. Got up in the morning, had breakfast, did a little research at the town offices. Samuel was here in 2010 sometime to look the place over. Gwen was less than thrilled to hear that.”

“Go on.”

“We drove out to the property, hiked up the drive.” She rested her cheek against Jack’s. “We went inside, found eight tiny rooms flanking the end door, all with articles of interest in them, then went in the large central room. It’s like a barn, with rafters at the ceiling. A couple antique cars at one end and a broken wagon. Dean?” She turned in her chair. “Would you take him for me? I need my hands free.”

He took Jack, put him in the portable crib while he heated up a bottle and listened in on the conversation.

Jo took a yellow legal pad from the stack of papers on the table. Quickly, she sketched some lines. The layout, Dean realized as she spoke. “We went here to this end and looked around. It was like an apartment. Two levels.” More drawing before she turned the notebook so Sam could see it.

“A compound.” Sam pulled the notebook closer. “A different set-up to the one Dean and I were familiar with, but…similar. Interesting.”

“Gwen found some of her old toys and a mural on one bedroom wall that Patricia painted.”

“She’d lived there? And she didn’t remember it?”

“She said she was really little, like five or six. Didn’t remember the building really, just the things we found. The place looks like they left in a hurry. Furniture is still all there, various other belongings. They locked it and left.”

Dean wondered why. Had they been attacked or been anticipating an attack?

“Anyway, we were looking for the way into the basement when the floor caved. Gwen disappeared. I heard her gasp and that was it. I would have gone down, too, if not for an invisible rescuer. Someone grabbed me and shoved me away from the second section as it fell.”

“Someone,” Dean interrupted.

“Someone,” she confirmed. “I felt hands and arms, a body that was really hot in temperature, but when I turned, there wasn’t anyone there, nor did anyone answer me.”

“What else?” Sam slid the notebook aside, garnering Jo’s attention again. “The slightest detail, Jo. Anything. Noises? Smells? A strange shadow?”

“I know how this debriefing works, Sam, and I was getting to it. There was something strange. A large bird. I heard it on the way up the drive and thought I saw it flying up in the rafters after Gwen disappeared. Odd for this time of year. Didn’t see it again, though. Haven’t.”

“Bird.” Sam went very still. “Gwen disappeared practically without a sound. That sounds like…altered reality and there was a large bird. What kind of bird? Crow maybe? What do we know that can alter reality like that and transforms into a crow?”

“Trickster,” Dean supplied.

“You think it’s the Trickster,” Jo asked.

“Fits.” Dean picked up Jack and brushed the nipple of the bottle against his mouth. He latched on to it like he was starving. “He’s got a hard-on for Gwen, too. If he’s got it too bad for her, he might resort to kidnapping.”

Jo crossed her arms on the table top. “Abigael wiped his memory and dropped him back in Las Vegas.”

Sam sat back in his chair. “True. But he’s not human. Would his mind be like a human mind? It’d have to be different, wouldn’t it? To be capable of doing what he does?”

“So how do we find her if he’s got her?”

“Patience,” Dean suggested and received sour glances from both of them. “We can look all we like, but if he’s got her…. The truth is, all we can do is wait, unless either of you wants to bother Cas with this?”

“Last resort,” Sam told him. “We’ll go over that building again tomorrow and if we don’t find her soon…then we call for Cas to try and locate her.”

Dean tried to stay out of it, but when three days went by, he stepped in. Jo would stay back at the motel with Jack while Dean went with Sam, a fresh pair of eyes to help search the building one more time before they called for Castiel.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen woke in bed. She was in the motel room. It was quiet and in that quiet, she thought she heard a voice, faintly calling out. “Jo?” She sat up. Her head ached and she was sore all over. Something wasn’t right, she knew it, but what?

The door opened, Sam coming in carrying a paper bag. He paused before closing the door. “Hey, you’re awake. You had us worried.”

“Us?” She touched a hand to her forehead. “Where’s Dean? Or Jo?”

“Uh…” He set the bag down and shrugged off his jacket. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Dean and Jo are taking turns cataloguing the contents of the building. One watches the baby while the other goes out.”

The baby. Sam no longer called Jack that. He used his name. “You brought Jack with you?”

A slight satisfied smile twitched his lips. “We did. We brought…Jack.”

“Why not leave him with Ellen or Bobby?”

Sam turned away, setting the bag in his hand on the dresser. “You hungry?”

“A little.” Try a lot. Her stomach was growling. Gwen tossed the covers off of her. “Where’s my robe?” She’d swear she’d brought it with her.

“Haven’t seen it. Sure you remembered to bring it?” He opened the bag and brought out a take-out container.

Whatever was in it smelled good and she reached for her clothes at the end of the bed, pulling them on in quick jerks. The room was rather cold, goose bumps stripling her skin. Had the heat quit working? “Thought I did. Is that for me?”

He took it to the table and set it down, opening it. “Steak tips with red potatoes, gravy, and green beans.” Another container was brought out. “Rolls and butter.”

Gwen ate slowly, studying him and the room as she did so. He was watching her, staring while she ate in a way Sam never did because he thought it was rude. Her heartbeat quickened and after she finished the food, she got up from the table, casually moving to her bag and looking through it. Her gun was missing and she remembered it had been gone after she’d fallen. “So…” She moved to place the table back between them. “Who are you?”

He leaned back in his chair. “I’m Sam.”

“You’re not.”

His concerned expression was a fraction too late to be real. “You hit your head pretty hard, Gwen. We think you have a concussion.”

The tone, the facial expressions…it was all wrong. “Sam never stares at me like that and if he did, he’d make damn sure I didn’t notice, so why don’t we cut the crap and you tell me who the hell are you and what you want from me?”

His eyes narrowed, head tilting a fraction to one side as he studied her. “That was quicker than I thought. Bravo.”

Before she could ask, he clapped his hands together once. Darkness surrounded her and she felt dirt beneath her hands before she scrambled to her feet. The air was cold, much colder than the last place. In gradual degrees, a landscape appeared, the road that went by their house. She was standing in the middle of it and there, ahead not too far, she could see the lights from the house. Gwen started walking.

The Impala wasn’t in the driveway, but her car was. She touched it as she went by. It felt real, solid. Had she blacked out? Had she lost a chunk of time? She recalled being in that building with Jo and the floor opening up beneath her feet. She remembered the man looking down at her and false Sam.

Gwen went up the steps and, after a moment of hesitation, she stepped into the house. Inside, it was warm and she smelled garlic and tomato sauce. Music was playing softly, one of Sam’s favorite bands. She stepped towards the couch. He was there, stretched out, in sweats and a t-shirt, reading.

Sam looked up. “You’re back early. I thought you were trying a nighttime run.”

A glance down at herself revealed that she was indeed dressed in winter running clothes, but ones she didn’t remember buying. “Sam, how long ago did Jo and I go out?”

“About two weeks, why?” He put the book aside and sat up, making room for her to sit down. “What’s wrong?”

She sat. “Where did the time go?”

“What do you mean? We worked on the building, found a few things Dean was excited about, then came back here.”

“I mean I don’t remember it.”

They talked and just when she began to get comfortable, he looked at her in a way that sent a burst of sheer wrongness through her. With a clap of his hands, the scene dissolved into nothingness and a new one appeared. Over and over and over again.

The scenarios became more elaborate, detailed, filled in. He took on personal issues, most specifically children. Sam didn’t want a baby. She did, but he didn’t. He was hardly ready for that, so when he began talking about his changed feelings on the matter, she knew it wasn’t him she was talking to. It was the imposter. The imposter didn’t seem to get that Sam had major issues with the subject of children of his own blood. Sam was concerned his ‘taint’ as he put it would pass on and doom an innocent child. He didn’t mean the archangel vessel part, but rather the demon blood. Gwen understood that. She knew it’d take something drastic to change his mind.

It was the main way she knew it was the imposter. He kept talking about the one thing Sam didn’t talk about. Children.

Every time Gwen realized she wasn’t talking to Sam, he clapped his hands once and the scene shifted around her. Who did she know who did that, or rather what did she know?

The Trickster.

He was here. He’d followed them and trapped her. She hoped he hadn’t hurt Jo. If he had, there was no place on earth he could hide from Dean.

Gwen had to admit he was good at mimicry. He’d obviously studied them enough to make things realistic, yet he couldn’t quite get Sam right. His stare was all wrong, lacking the warm tender concern Sam usually displayed for her and, with a jolt, Gwen recognized the expression. It was the one soulless Sam had used when trying to pretend he felt things. He’d stare too hard, attempting to find the nonverbal clues to react to and logically deduce just how he was supposed to react. Before she’d known he was soulless, she’d thought Sam had something like Asperger’s Syndrome and filed it away as normal and quirky in a dark way.

The Trickster was gauging her reactions to each version, using her reactions to perfect it. She needed to stop reacting, but how did she do that when she was having trouble keeping calm?

His stares made sense in a way. The Trickster was a monster. Cold, calculating, capricious in his idea of justice, and morally off anyway. His version of Sam would be the same while he figured Sam out.

She yawned, her entire body shaking with it. It was becoming increasingly difficult to remain awake and she wondered how long she’d been his prisoner. She knew she could go a couple days without sleep, but not much longer. It felt like she’d about reached that limit.

Two days. What was going on outside wherever he had her? Was Jo alive and worried? Had she called in Dean and Sam?

A bed appeared, the only place to sit beside the floor of this barren room she was currently in. Gwen sat. She knew she needed rest in order to keep fighting him, yet to do so would leave her vulnerable to him. Quite the conundrum, she said to herself and closed her eyes.

He was taking good care of her, despite holding her prisoner. He made sure she’d had some decent food, though the last two meals hadn’t been eaten before she’d seen it wasn’t Sam with her.

She barely noticed she was lying down until she opened her eyes and saw ceiling straight ahead. Just off to the side, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the Trickster in his natural form watching her…. Gwen fell asleep.

When she woke, she was in the motel room. Again. She pushed to sit. This time, it looked right. The covers on the second bed were jumbled, there was a portable crib beside it, and Jo’s robe was crumpled at the end of the bed with one of Dean’s shirts and several baby-sized articles of clothing.

The bed she was on was fairly neat. Sam’s bag was beside her own by the wall and she thought she could smell the faint scent of Sam’s aftershave. She was the only one in the room. Gwen shoved the covers off of herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was in her winter pajamas, the ones Sam didn’t like because they covered too much of her and the only pair she’d brought with her. Slowly, Gwen got up and walked to the table. While it was piled with papers, all the sort of mess they made in a room, one was set in the center, a note scrawled on it in Jo’s handwriting.

‘Gwen, Out at the building packing it up. Food in fridge. Call when you wake up. --Jo’

She found a box of cereal, milk, and some jars of fruit in the fridge nestled among takeout Chinese, pizza, fast food containers, and baby bottles. Very much like home. The tension in her shoulders eased a fraction and Gwen fixed herself a bowl of cereal, eating slowly while she looked for anything out of place.

Please, let this be real, she thought. I’m too tired to keep this up for long by myself.

Slowly, she reached for her phone and dialed. “Jo, hi.”

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

Jo’s voice sounded right. “Exhausted.”

“Don’t doubt you are. After battling the Trickster for four days.”

“Battling?”

“He trapped you remember? You do remember, right?” Her voice was muffled and she heard Jo tell Sam to go back to the motel and check on Gwen. “I’m sending Sam back to the room.”

“No, Jo, I’m fine --”

“You’re not fine if you don’t remember that. Sam’ll be back in a bit. Rest until he gets there.”

“I remember, I do, but….”

“But what? Gwen, what’s wrong?”

She bit her lip. Did she say anything? “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing. What?”

“Everything looks normal, but how do I know I’m free of him?”

“Do you see anything out of place?”

“Nothing.”

“Then you must be free, right? Look, you killed him. We all saw his body. Ask Sam when he gets there. Go through it all with him.”

“I think I will.”

Unlike previous scenes, it took time for Sam to arrive and when he did, he came straight to her. “What’s wrong?” His hands gripped her arms, then released her so he could take off his coat. “Come here and talk to me. Jo said I needed to come back?”

The concern she saw almost undid her composure and she let him draw her close. They sat together on the edge of the bed. “I don’t remember killing him.”

“You did. His body was there.”

“It could have been his avatar, a trick.”

“You’re free of him, Gwen. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” His hand took hers. “We can get on with life.”

The hope that this was real died as she noticed a flare of calculation in his eyes. While Sam sometimes did have that, it was all wrong for the moment. No way he’d look at her like that. Gwen drew away, snatching her hand back from his. He tried to tighten his grip at the last second. She stood, backing away. “You’re not Sam.”

“Of course I am, Gwen. I’m Sam.”

“You’re not Sam and none of this is real.”

“How do you know? I mean really? How can you tell?” He stood up. “What makes you think I’m not Sam?”

“I know. You’re the Trickster.” At his clap, the scene changed. She was still in the building, down in the basement section, and she felt exhausted, like she hadn’t had much sleep despite knowing she’d slept. It hadn’t been a restful sleep. “What do you want from me?”

“Are you afraid, Gwen? Are you terrified…darling?” On the last word, he morphed into the Trickster, abandoning the Sam disguise. “Feel like reality is slipping away?” he made a motion with one hand.

She blinked several times and took a step back from him.

“Imagine a world where you’re never sure if it’s him or me with you. Think very carefully on that. I can make it happen. I will make it happen. As you can see, I’m getting very good at pretending to be Sam. I’m a fast study and you…and he…have given me plenty of material to work with. Especially Sam. You should hear him up there, searching with Jo, calling out for you. Then back in the motel room, the way they talk…. I’ve plenty of pieces of all of them now to make a nice little world for you.”

His satisfied smile was chilling and she knew he had every intention of going through with that threat if…. What? What did he want?

“Let’s chat, darling. We have quite a few things to discuss.”

The air seemed colder, the light a bit murkier and Gwen shivered. It was never a good thing when monsters wanted to chat.