17. Wichita, Kansas

"I'd feel better if I had the other one too," I tell Dean.

We're outside, actually, in broad daylight, both armed with a baton. It's still a strange sight, the Impala parked next to my truck. I've pulled my hair back into a ponytail.

"I'm prepping you for all possibilities," he tells me. He holds the baton like a lightsaber, and I find myself mimicking him. "Now, show me what you got."

I wrinkle my nose, feeling the gentle breeze, as I analyze my brother. I need to go for low blows—that makes my height an advantage. I can avoid his high blows easier with a simple duck. If I can disarm him, I've got surefire victory.

Dean's impatient with my analyzing; he approaches me. He strikes with the traditional aim to the head, to which I easily duck under and hit him in the gut. I hear the air leave his mouth, and he stumbles back. The baton is low at my side as I move in on Dean.

"Always obvious, big bro," I tell him.

The clang of batons rattles my bones. I pull mine away, striking at his side. Dean meets my baton with his again, and I kick out at him. I try not to hit him, but a few times I hit him pretty hard. I gasp as I accidently hit him hard across his mouth.

"Shit!" I stammer.

"No worries. Just a scratch." He wipes the blood out of the corner of his mouth. "Keep going."

"Are you sure?"

His answer is to jump for me. I barely have time to react. I yelp as he hits my hand, forcing the baton out. My jaw throbs as I'm hit across the face, sent to the ground. I reach for my baton, as it's right there, but Dean's is just under my chin.

"If that were a lightsaber, you'd be killing me," I pant.

"But it's not."

With a second wind, I try and yank his baton out of his hand. Instead, when I realize that's not happening, I shoot forward, rolling, picking up mine in the process. But Dean sends me crippling to the ground with a hit to my ribs. I gasp, touching my tender ribcage.

"You never said no contact," he tells me.

I lock my jaw. "Asshat."

He chuckles. "Same old Jo."

"You lost that privilege, remember?" I snarl.

Dean rolls his eyes. "You waving the white flag?"

"No. I'm gonna make you wave yours though." With a cry, I go for Dean.

Somehow, my baton is out of my hand, and I've got an arm behind my back painfully. I kick at my brother's legs, but unlike me, he doesn't buckle. I get sent to the ground on my knees with a kick on the back of my legs. Dean has the baton on my throat.

"Okay, okay," I whine. "You win! You win, Dean!"

The baton lets me fall to the ground, coughing. Dean's shaking slightly, looking as though he's trying to keep himself in check.

"Dean?" I ask timidly.

"Good—good round," he says neutrally.

"Dude, you play dirty."

"Whoever said people play fair anymore?" he pants.

I pick myself and my baton up off the ground. "How times have changed." I go to him, hand out for my other baton. "Hand it over. I think it makes you too power-hungry."

As Dean relinquishes his power, I can't help but notice something peeking out from under one of his sleeves. My brown eyes transfix on the little bit of red. I tuck my batons under my armpit. I'm trying not to stare, because I know what that is.

The Mark of Cain.

I roll up Dean's sleeve, I'm surprised he lets me. I touch the redness on his forearm. It's a strange design.

"Are you okay, dealing with this?" I ask Dean.

"I'm under control. No need to worry about me."

But I have to. You're my brother. You're known for getting yourself into some deep shit.

After a few minutes of airing out, I head back inside the bunker. Neither of my brothers are anywhere to be found, so I continue my venture to my room. It's time these found their home. I stick the batons under the mattress. My eyes go upwards.

The lights. They've flickered. Again.

I'm running back for the kitchen. I hear footsteps behind me, and nearly miss the kitchen because of that. Dean's now in the kitchen.

"Hey, did you see that?" I ask, catching my breath. Sam is beside me. "The—the lights were..."

Across the room, there's a figure trying to materialize in the kitchen. It's got to be Kevin. When we get a decent figure, the kid looks way young. Like, high school borderline college young. But I can tell whatever my brothers pulled him into changed him. Something tells me this Kevin that I'm seeing is not the same one that my brothers met for the first time.

"No, this is not happening," Kevin mutters. Whether or not he's aware that three Winchesters are staring at him, I'm not sure. "Didn't spend months struggling to break through the veil just to get stuck listening to Dean Winchester having a self-pity session. Didn't hear enough of those when I was alive."

"Kevin?" Dean stares at the apparition.

"You can see me?" asks Kevin. His eyes find me. "Who're you?"

"Josette Winchester," I say. "You're not the first I've had to tell."

"Sam and Dean don't have a sister."

I sigh. "I made the world believe that. That's on me."

"Hey, take it easy, Kevin," Sam cuts in. "You might not hold this form for too long, okay? I-it takes a while."

"Then we should talk fast," suggests Kevin.

"Wait, wait, wait," says Dean. "Why aren't you in—in Heaven? I mean, if anybody deserves an express to paradise—"

Kevin's form continues to flicker. "I couldn't. I can't. No one can. Heaven's closed for business. Everyone who's died since the angels fell are just stuck inside the veil, waiting. And it's bad in here. Like DMV-line-times-infinity bad."

"Well, what can we do?" I ask.

"I need a favor—big one."

"Okay."

"Find my mother."

"Kevin," says Sam.

"Crowley only told you she was alive to mess with you," Dean tells the kid.

"I'm not going off his word," Kevin snaps. "All right? I have my own sources. It's crowded in the veil. All of us are stuck near the sites of our deaths. But I've been able to pass messages spirit to spirit. I made contact with another new arrival. She said she saw my mom just a week ago, alive."

"Okay, this—this spirit that you're playing ghost telephone with, I mean, what do you even know about her?"

"Her name's Candy. Says she's in a forest in Wichita."

"Candy?"

"That's it?" Sam asks. "That's all you got?"

"Long-distance communication within the veil—it's not ideal. That's why I need you to go there, summon her, see what else she knows. You say you want to make it right? This is how." Kevin disappears.

I stand awkwardly, licking my lips. This poor kid. I barely know him, and I feel bad for him. I don't know Crowley well either, I only met him the one time. Haven't seen him since. But he seems like the kind of demon to tell a poor kid like Kevin that his mom is dead. I can only imagine what torment Kevin's gone through.

"So," I say awkwardly, "field trip to Wichita?"

* * *

We take the Impala to the forest in Wichita where supposedly Candy's spirit is hanging around. We're walking in the forest now. We spot the train trestle.

"All right, that's the trestle," I say. "Candy said her spirit was stuck nearby."

"She died here?" asks Dean.

"Yeah."

"What got her? A bear?"

"I'm still stuck on the fact that we're trying to summon a ghost named Candy," says Sam. "You know, just 'cause Kevin said he heard his mom is alive doesn't mean she—"

"Hey, we at least owe it to the kid to try, right?"

"What'd you bring?"

Dean's digging through his bag, coming up with a radio. He hangs it on a nail on a tree. "Well, she's only been dead a week, right? So I figured she could use as much help as she can get, so..." He also takes out the coffeemaker Kevin had been using earlier.

"Really?" I question.

"Whatever works."

I sigh. "So, I guess we just wait and see if she's really around, huh?"

"Guess so."

So us Winchester siblings spend the day out in the forest, waiting for any signs from Candy. Twice during the day, Dean leaves to make a call. Both times he comes back, frustrated beyond belief. I ask who he's been calling.

Apparently, Dean and Crowley have something of a friendship if he's been calling the demon for help. Twice. And twice Crowley hasn't answered. I roll my eyes. How long will it be before he gives up?

Our waiting game goes into nightfall. We make a small fire and hover around it. The temperature drops.

"You feel that?" Sam asks us both. "I think I felt a chill."

"Yeah," says Dean. "It's 'cause it's cold." He dials his phone. "Crowley, it's Dean. Call me when you get this."

"Really, Dean?" I deadpan.

"What?"

"That's your third unanswered voicemail. You ever think maybe he's just not that into you?"

"Well, he's our last confirmed link to Mrs. Tran. Yes, he is a flaming douche, but at least we know he's real, which is more than we can say for this Candy no-show."

And just as my brother says that, the radio on the tree starts buzzing. We hear snippets of a woman's voice through all the static. As one, we jump up and head towards the radio.

"Candy?" asks Sam. "Are—are you there? Is that you, Candy?"

"Hello?" asks the static-y voice. "Hello?"

"Wait." I start messing with the radio to try and get a better signal. I bite down on my tongue, listening intently.

"There," says Sam. "There. There. Stop. Stop. Stop."

"Okay, okay!" I back off.

"Candy?"

"Who is this?"

"We're friends of Kevin Tran," says Sam. "He said that you claimed to see his mother about a week ago, alive?"

"...in the box," Candy's saying. "They put me in the box. All of us in boxes, side by side. Me, Jerome, Linda."

"Linda's—" says Dean.

"Ms. Tran," Sam finishes. "Candy, these boxes, where were they?"

"I don't know. They were cold. Dark. There—there was a vent. We could talk to one another."

"Okay, and the walls, can you describe them?"

"Bare. Cement. Except for the door. That was...metal, but...like, ridged."

"Ridged?" asks Dean. "You mean like corrugated?"

"Yeah! I tried to lift the door, but I couldn't. Locked from the outside."

"Like a storage unit?" I ask my brothers.

"Maybe," says Sam. "Candy, who was holding you there?"

"Two men. It was so dark in the box. When they came, I could barely see. The—the first guy was British, I think. Kind of short, loved hearing himself talk."

I frown. "Crowley. And what do they want?"

"Said I was worth more alive than dead. But he stopped coming. Then it was just the other guy. We thought with just him...we'd try to escape. I ran so hard, so far, but..." Static takes over.

"Candy?" I ask. "Candy, are you there? What about Ms. Tran? Candy?"

"I don't know. Maybe she survived."

"Maybe?" asks Dean. "That's not what you told her son."

"I said she was alive. I don't know what happened after. For her sake, I hope she's dead."