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“Auntie, would you hand me a cookie?” It was a rainy, dreary day to be driving from San Francisco back down to Sunnydale, but Jada felt buoyant. It didn’t hurt that her aunt was cradling a large bag of Momma-baked treats.
Dottie rustled through the bag. “Which kind, Sweets Girl? You ate all the double chocolate.”
“Any snickerdoodles left?”
Dottie handed her a perfectly browned cookie. A few crumbs scattered over her, and she made a mental note to clean her car later. Now Jada was content with the dusting of cinnamon and sugar on her lips, sweetening each mile as she got closer to Sam.
During the two weeks she’d been gone, Sam had called her Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day, quick calls to wish her well, to let her know he was thinking of her, but nothing smothering or demanding. He was giving her the time she needed to adjust to dating a monster hunter.
Yet she barely had time for anything but her family. The moment Jada saw their row house – no candles in the windows, no wreath on the door, no strings of lights blazing into the winter evening – she knew something was wrong.
Although perhaps she should have been expecting the lack of holiday joy. Jada’s father had been the one most likely to make a joke. Most likely to dance. Her mother was a planner, a worrier. They danced well together. Since suddenly becoming a widow, her mother had seemed lost and harsh.
When her mother answered the door, no scent of holiday baking wafted from inside. The fullness had melted from her cheeks, giving her face a hollow look.
Before Jada could ask her mother if she remembered Christmas was in four days, Dottie announced “Jada’s dating a vampire hunter!”
The outlandish-sounding vampire hunter bit was easier to gloss over than the fact that she’d been in a relationship for over a month without telling her mother.
“So who is this boy?” her mother probed, setting a skittish Marmalade free from his carrier.
“Is Auntie Dot staying in Michael’s room?” Jada asked, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.
“Don’t ignore my question, young lady.”
“I’m not ignoring you, Momma. These bags are heavy, that’s all.”
Determined, her mother grabbed a bag and lead the other women upstairs. “I’m just curious. We had everything booked for your wedding to Tyler, then you got cold feet and –”
“I did not get cold feet!” Jada blurted with more venom than she’d expected.
Her mother paused midstep, looking her up and down as if she were a completely different person. “I’m sure you had your reasons,” she said quietly, “but you never shared them with me.”
“He was an asshole!” Dottie added.
Her mother exclaimed, “Dorothy Johnson!” Dottie – morbid and rough – had always been the odd duck in the family, but before the dementia, she had kept her cursing out of her genteel brother’s home.
Jada stifled a giggle. “She’s not wrong.”
Her mother shook her head and continued up the stairs. “I don’t know about you two.”
Hours later, over a four-course dinner, Jada told her mother everything about her new boyfriend. At least, the official cover story Sam had originally told her, not the new details he’d recently shared about demons killing his parents and living his life on the edge of legality growing up hunting ghosts and other monsters.
“He sounds respectable,” her mother said as she loaded a second helping of lasagna on Dottie’s plate.
Respectable? It was such a sterile word for someone who made Jada feel so alive and secure all at once.
“He’s a looker, too,” Dottie added before digging in.
A smirk spread across her mother’s lips. “Let me guess. Tall, skinny white boy with shaggy hair?”
Jada could feel the heat rising in her face. “Not so skinny. Athletic.”
“Glad to see you’re not in a rut.” She took a long sip of wine, considering her daughter over the glass, and asked, “Does this mean your move to Sunnydale is permanent?”
Glancing at her aunt, Jada sighed. “It’s indefinite.”
“Does this…Sam seem like husband material?”
“Mother!”
“What? I’m worried!” Eyebrows raised, her mother threw her hands up. “I was twenty when I married your father. Dottie, weren’t you about the same when you married Jim?”
“Nineteen. Pass the garlic bread.”
Annoyed, Jada handed the basket to her aunt. “So? I’m twenty-five. I have plenty of time.”
“Is it so wrong for me to want a grandbaby on my knee?” her mother sighed.
“Then ask Michael.” Jada could feel bitterness – for being forced into the mold of the the perfect child, for being so often denied her own feelings – spilling out of her.
“Your brother is busy serving his country.”
“I’m sure that’s what the local girls call it.”
Her mother gasped. “Evangeline Jada Green, your brother is a hero.”
Jada bit her lip and stared at her plate. Being stationed with the Navy in Japan wasn’t the same as Uncle Jim fighting in the jungles of Vietnam. She adored her baby brother, but once again, responsibility fell heavy on her shoulders while he did what he wanted.
“Sam and I haven’t talked about it. About marriage.” She grabbed her water and took a long drink.
“Well, why not?”
Because we can’t, she realized sadly. “Because we don’t want to, mother. Because it’s our relationship, and we like it the way it is right now.”
Her mother shook her head, setting her short curls bouncing. “On second thought, I don’t like this boy. You didn’t have this attitude when you left. Spend a few months with Dottie and you’ve come back mouthy and rude.”
“Mouthy and rude? Momma, before I left, I wasn’t even sleeping I was so upset about Tyler and Dad–”
“DO NOT bring your father into this!” A tremble ran through her mother, which was the most Jada had seen her express since he’d died.
Jada lowered her voice to a sweet whisper and reached over to hold her mother’s hand. “You were married for a long time, Momma. No one is expecting you to pull yourself together in a tidy timeline. You have to figure out who you are without him. Just because you can’t face your feelings about losing Dad doesn’t mean I need to keep wallowing in mine.”
“She’s right,” Dottie said around a mouthful of garlic bread. “Jim was the only man who ever understood me, and it took me years to get a grip after he passed.”
Her mother’s bottom lip quivered. “You think you wallowed?”
“More like ate my feelings until they gave me heartburn.”
A single tear rolled down her mother’s cheek. “I don’t know if I can do this. Day to day is hard enough without him, but Christmas? Your father was always the most joyful person in any room, and I feel like…like being happy without him is a betrayal.”
“Oh Momma!” Jada and her mother slipped from their chairs fell into each other’s arms, crying a year’s worth of pent up tears.
Most of the rest of their stay had been calmer. More baking. A little laughter. Some good talks. There were three days of Dottie searching for her husband, and one particularly painful morning of Dottie demanding to know where her baby brother was.
“She’s worse than I’d imagined,” her mother said, rolling out pie crust while listening to Dottie upstairs crying anew about her brother’s death. “How do you do this every day?”
“I think being away from home is stressing her out.”
“You’d told me about her vampire obsession before, but –”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Jada said quickly. “A distraction, if anything. We’ve built ourselves a little routine, and when I just can’t deal with her, Sam and his brother have been so helpful.”
Her mother’s eyes softened. “Your new boyfriend helps with your aunt?”
“Before we even started dating.” The memory made her warm. Whatever else he was, Sam Winchester was a good man.
“Maybe this Sam isn’t so bad.”
Dottie, clutching her head, appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Can somebody make me a gin and tonic? Need to knock out this headache before Wheel comes on.”
Sam scowled at his scratch pad. The Summers’ house was packed with new, hungry teenage mouths that no one’s budget could handle. He and Xander had pooled what they could and were trying to stretch their pennies across more meals than he’d thought possible even in his Stanford days. “Six of the family size boxes.”
“Will six be enough? Growing Slayers-to-be can pack it away,” said Xander.
“Twenty Potentials, plus the other ten mouths moving in and out at three meals a day –”
“Stop! No. You will not trick me into a story problem. I swore off those when I finished Mrs. Vincenti’s math class!”
Sam chuckled. “Let’s grab some milk, alright?”
Halfway to the dairy aisle his phone ran.
“I’m back home,” said Jada sweetly.
Sam felt no right to ask her to stay in Sunnydale, especially given what she knew about monsters, but his heart skipped a beat when she called their building “home.” “Did you get my note?”
“To not panic about the graffiti? You know notes don’t work on Auntie.”
He’d worried the protection symbols he’d put on their door and windows would set the old woman off, but better to be safe than sorry. “I’ll come talk her down.”
“No need. I made something up and now she’s chatting with Marmalade.”
“Really? What’d you tell her?”
“That you put a protection spell on the apartment,” she said with a giggle. “I’m pretty proud of myself for thinking of that.”
A chill ran down Sam’s back. “I missed you. How about I come by in a bit? Twenty minutes?”
“Perfect.”
Even though the Winchesters’ apartment was the opposite direction from the Summers’ house, Xander offered to drop Sam off. “It’s no problem, really. Soooooo Jada’s cool with all the crazy? Because she seems way too normal for this.”
“She’s…learning. I doubt she’ll be over to help with research anytime soon, but at least she’s carrying a cross in her purse.”
“Crosses won’t help much now that Lucifer is here and after you,” Xander said as he pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment. “Aaand you’re giving me shut-up face. Shutting up. Shutting up now.”
Sam thanked him for the ride before heading upstairs with a heavy heart. How could he possibly keep Jada and her aunt safe?
Before he could knock, her apartment door swung open, and there Jada stood in white jeans, a navy sweater, and little pink scarf like some sort of perky 1950s coed. She beamed, happy to see him, like he hadn’t ruined her life.
“Come in! I have cookies, and I’m willing to share.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“It’s just because I like you,” she said over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Planted in her arm chair with the cat purring loudly in her lap, Dottie was watching some 1970s movie, poorly edited to squeeze in Sunday afternoon commercials. “Hello, Sam. What’re you protecting us from?”
“Everything.”
“Smart,” she said before turning back to the television.
Jada stood in the kitchen, considering which treat to eat next. Handing Sam a mug of fresh coffee, she happily took a gooey bite of a jam cookie.
The coffee smelled perfect. “You made coffee just for me?”
Hand over her full mouth, she explained, “You sounded tired on the phone. You look exhausted!”
Sam nodded. It had been just over a week since his rescue from Lucifer’s underground prison. Staying in bed was driving him stir-crazy; he hated to admit that even a small task like grocery shopping had worn him out.
“Does it have anything to do with the stuff on the windows?” she whispered.
He sipped his coffee while he considered how much to share. “We’ve been battling a heavy hitter for a few weeks. It’s reached new levels of crazy. The sigils should keep it out, but be careful. Please, don’t go out at night if you don’t have to.”
She popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth and studied him with a furrowed brow. Finally, she asked, “Is this, like, a super vampire or something?”
“No, not really. It’s much more powerful, but it’s controlling vampires.”
“That is not comforting. So no pepper spray then?”
“No, it doesn’t really have a body. It borrows the appearance of other people, so if you see someone – especially me, Dean, Buffy or Spike – or if some stranger starts saying weird things to you, asking you questions, make sure you touch them.”
Jada leaned into him, her head tucked under his chin, her arms gentle around his waist. “Can it hurt me?”
Could Lucifer torment her in her dreams? Could the Bringers abduct her anytime she was outside? Could the Devil’s vampire army hunt her down as she walked to her car at night? Yes.
“I won’t let it.”
He held her for a second or an hour – however long it was wasn’t enough – before she slipped from his arms and peeked in on her aunt, now snoring in front of the television. Jada grabbed Sam’s hand and his coffee and lead him to her small, bright bedroom.
They curled around each other on the bed, the shadow of raindrops on the window projected on her cheeks. Smiling her contented cat smile, Jada closed her eyes.
In a voice more dreamy than the subject allowed, she asked, “So should I assume you did not have a very happy holiday? When you called before, you told me everything was fine.”
“I didn’t want to bother you on vacation. But vacation’s over. Welcome back; everything’s crap.”
She giggled, bright and light, and Sam wondered if maybe she wasn’t too normal for his world. Today a laugh, and if they lived until next year, maybe she’d be willing to research.
He slipped his fingers under her sweater, her skin silky and comforting. They hadn’t been intimate since the day he saw the spell clouding her vision. In his broken, post-accident state, they’d barely kissed before she left town for the holidays.
She sighed contentedly and shifted her body closer, one leg draped over his. Yanking her leg higher, he pressed his body into her, tasting the lingering flavor of jam on her lips as his tongue nudged her mouth open.
She was hungry for him, her fingers twisted in his hair as she pressed his face close, both legs wrapped around his thighs as she rocked into his growing erection. Jada pulled back with sly smile. “How quiet do you think we can be?”
Sam whipped off her sweater and nibbled her neck as she wriggled from her jeans. Straddling him, she whispered, “I’m in charge,” before pushing him back on the bed. Slowly, she pushed his shirt up his abs then – “Oh my God!”
Jada’s hand covered her open mouth as she looked at the angry red slashes across his stomach. “Sam?” Her voice small, uncertain.
He sat up and cupped her face in his hands. “Look at me. Look at me, Jada. It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“The car accident?” she asked with a hitch in her voice.
“Remember I said we were running from some vampires? Well, one of them scratched me.”
She shook her head, her bottom lip quivering. “That’s not a scratch.”
Sam smiled reassuringly. “All the stitches are gone. It’s ugly, but it’s healed. I’m fine.”
Jada clung to him, while he held her and whispered over and over that he was okay.
“How many times?” she muttered. “How often do you end up in the hospital?”
“Not that often. Only twice since we moved to Sunnydale.”
“Only twice? You haven’t even been here six months!”
“Jada, this life–”
“No,” she said calmly but sternly. “Do not lecture me about monsters and saving people. I have been turned inside out this last year, and you are my one good thing, Sam. I can still smile because you are here, but if something happened to you…”
He squeezed her tight, as if that stillness could calm the fears bubbling inside of her. “Shhh. Shhh. I promise nothing’s going to happen to me.”
He prayed to Cas it was true.
Two days later, Jada started self defense classes at the library. Sam was busy with a mysterious something going on at Buffy’s, and she didn’t think it was a good idea to practice hitting the man one sleeps with anyway. But she wouldn’t be helpless.
“Can we go now?” Dottie asked again while Jada filled out the sign up sheet and waiver forms. Her aunt was under the impression that they had an appointment somewhere.
“Just a few more minutes, Auntie.”
“We’re going to be late!”
“Would we be late if we left now?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s be fashionably late,” Jada said with a smile. She had no intention of leaving; class started in half an hour.
Dottie looked up from her book. A library. Yes, she was at a library. But how long had she been there? She was on page thirty-five of a book called Guide to Night Creatures, though the creatures inside its pages were more sinister and familiar than the average possum.
She stood and stretched, her stiff knees telling her she’d been sitting in the hard chair entirely too long. It was time to go home.
She opened the purse beside her, hoping it was hers. Yes, good. The wallet contained her name and picture. Is that where I live? No car keys. She vaguely remembered someone bringing her, but she didn’t remember who. She would have to wait.
A cluster of soft chairs sat near the window. There was a teenager sleeping in one, his leg draped over the arm, music leaking from his headphones covering up his puffs of snores.
Dottie sat in a chair across from the boy and waited for her ride, but she didn’t have to wait long. He had dark brown skin and a ready smile, framed by high cheekbones and a strong jaw. His hair cut in a high-and-tight and still wearing his uniform, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
“Jim.”