Chapter Text
Jessica Moore was having a good day. Her husband, Sam, got her coffee and flowers on his way back from his run and she had a good night's sleep. Considering that she was a trauma surgeon in a busy hospital in New York, her hours were long and it was a miracle if she got more than 5 hours sleep a night. She was in a peppy mood and left to get some groceries before work humming her favorite song under her breath. Her good mood steadfastly remained throughout a trying surgery and exhausting co-workers.
Until, that is. Jessica got off from work, keys jangling when she felt a hand around a mouth and a cloth shoved to her nose. She smelled something and felt consciousness slipping away almost immediately.
When she came to, it was to the sound of dangling chains and jeering laughter. There was, wait, was that blood on her neck?! She was bleeding from puncture wounds in her neck. There was a barn like area she was in, heavy with the smell of alcohol and blood. Jessica felt sick.
Sam!! He would have noticed she was missing. They had talked on call as she was leaving work and she had let him know that she would reach home in a couple of minutes. They lived but 10 odd minutes away and if she wasn't home Sam would get concerned. Thank god. The police would find her, she'll be fine. At least that was what she chanted frantically in her head. She was feeling a bit woozy. She guessed it was the blood loss, the wounds were still leaking sluggishly and her eyesight was blurry. Her head that had been lolling forward was caught roughly by the chin and forced upwards. She was now looking directly into the eyes of a man who was smiling chillingly with rows of fangs. Jessica shook her head in an attempt to dissuade the illusion. Fangs? Her eyesight cleared some but the fangs remained. The man's smile turned knowing at her look of horror. She frantically ran her eyes around the barn, searching of help. Instead, she was met with an odd twenty people who were all looking at her and seemed to have those razor sharp teeth. But, even worse, she counted four others held up by chains. She seemed to be in better condition then then and her mind instantly catalogued their state and visible injuries.
Sluggish movements, dull expressions, blood running down their arms and necks, tattered clothes. They had been down here for days, she noted with muted horror. The chances of her getting out of this situation relatively unharmed seemed to be getting lesser and lesser.
The man grasping her chin laughed, sending chills down Jess' spine. He put her mouth close to her ear and seemed to be about to speak when there was the unmistakable sound of a door opening. A man walked in with a confidence that did NOT seem apt to the situation. Jess expected him to realize the gravity of what was going on here any second now but instead of his face showing any terror, he smirked.
"Let's get this party started, shall we?" At this, he raised a long, thick blade (wait, a machete??) and make a come hitherto gesture. Stupid, Jess registered, going against 20 people, people with much too many fangs that too for fuck's sake. But he still didn't look cowered and to her surprise, the man in front of her did. He shook it off though and donned a smile.
"Winchester. The famous hunter will finally be dead, hmm? What luck." Wait? Winchester?? No, it's nothing. Sam's name used to be Winchester. No, she reasoned, it's not like Winchester is an uncommon name. The vampire, for there seemed to be no other explanation for what he was, seemed to move at an inhumane speed, arriving in front of the man in a flat second. Jess wondered blearily if her mind was playing tricks on her. This seemed like a fever dream. She watched as the man somehow responded just as quickly and with an almost graceful hand movement, beheaded her abductor. The rest of the people in the barn leapt into response at once, all towards the man. She continued to watch as he slashed and hacked never once losing his ground. In the fray, two other people seemed to have joined. A young women and man, both appearing to be in their twenties. They were fighting too, though maybe not on par with the first man's skill. He looked like an avenging angel as he beheaded men and women alike in the dim light of the barn.
Soon, it was over. The older man moved towards her and the four other prisoners. Jess flinched involuntarily. She had no trouble believing he could easily kill her, especially after seeing him in action. But he simply undid her chains and helped her sit on a nearby crate. She noticed the young man and women doing the same to the other prisoners. The man who saved her called to them in a gruff but surprisingly calming voice. "Jack, Claire. Get them over here." He gestured to the row of crates like the one Jess was sitting on.
Jack and Claire, she had names to match them to, lead the four others to the crates and helped them sit. Jess looked at them with concern and slight curiosity. She was shocked and disgusted to find that one of them was a child, he must be barely 10 years old. He was shaking, though it seemed to be more from terror and shock than pain. What surprised her though, was that the first man noticed it immediately and the compassion with which he approached the kid. He crouched in front of him, deliberately unthreatening, though Jess couldn't believe he was harmless for an instant. He spoke in low, soothing tones and the kid's tremors slowly tapered off. Jess could feel herself relaxing too, to which she shook herself. The trio seemed to be here to rescue them but what if they weren't? She shivered.
The younger man, Jack, interrupted. "Dean, can I-?" He was looking for direction from the first man, Dean, Jess realized. Dean- wasn't that Sam's older brother's name? The same Sam, her husband, whose last name used to be Winchester too. Something to keep in mind. It just seemed like too much of a coincidence. Dean nodded, apparently anticipating the question. At this, Jack walked in front of all four of them, and one by one, touched their foreheads. Jess could feel the pain vanishing along with the blood on her neck as if it had never been there. Her clothes remained dirty and a bit tattered, though, the same clothes she was wearing when she left work. She felt surprisingly stronger too, she noticed. She saw the other four looking unharmed as well, miraculously healed. Whatever Jack had done seemed to have taken all the pain and bleariness. She listened intently as Dean started talking.