Jonah

You wake to a gentle shake, opening your eyes to Sam’s face just two feet from yours, a line of dark, crusted blood over his eye. After a moment, you remember that you had been watching a light and cheery children’s flick on Netflix in his room while they were gone. You weren’t too keen on being left alone and you didn’t know how much faith to put in their word that the bunker was safe for you, but you were in no condition to join their little hunt for the jaguar thing. And you actually slept pretty heavily, so whether or not the painkillers had anything to do with it, there was that.

Oh, crap. I’m still in his bed. Your cheeks tinge scarlet as you bolt upright.

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to leave,” he says. He gives you half of a smile. “How do you feel?”

You blink and test your voice. “Better,” you say, pleasantly surprised to find that talking no longer feels like swallowing a giant package of marbles with pointy spikes. “What happened?”

He clears his throat as he squats in front of you. He drops his gaze, his shoulders slope, and you know instantly that they didn’t get there in time. “We lost him. I mean - we got the kanaima. But the victims...”

“Victims?” you repeat, not realizing there had been more than one.

Sam nods and his eyes meet yours. “Turns out the kanaima is something of a vengeful spirit that possesses a body to carry out its attacks. The host didn’t survive the possession.”

Dean appears in the doorway with a busted lip and a black eye, nursing his left elbow. “You’re awake,” he says and steps into the room. “You tell her, yet?”

Sam’s temples flex when he shoots a glare at his older brother. “I didn’t get that far.” He turns back to you. “The good news was that we took care of the kanaima. The bad news is that we don’t think it's what attacked you.”

You look between them both, shaking your head. “I-I don’t understand.”

“There’s something else out there, and we still don’t know what it is, or how to find it,” Dean answers. His posture softens as he looks at you. “So... you’re going to have to bunk here for a little while longer.”

You look at Sam for confirmation. He nods with a sympathetic frown. Drawing a deep breath, you stand up and head toward your own room where you’d left your phone. At least, you think that’s where you left it.

“[Y/N], hey,” Sam says softly, following you into the hall.

“I need to call Jonah,” you say over your shoulder.

“Let her go, Sam,” Dean’s gruff voice follows you.

You’ve called Jonah and left three messages. You sent him five texts. It was possible he was still sleeping but all that noise would have woken him up by now. He never turns off his phone. He never shuts off the sound.

After an hour of waiting, you really start to worry. You dial his cell one last time before emerging from your room with your phone in hand. You find Sam slumped over another old book in the study, but Dean is nowhere to be found.

He looks up at the sound of your footsteps, takes one look at the expression on your face and the phone clenched in your white knuckles, and pushes the chair back. “What’s wrong?” he asks as he stands.

“Jonah isn’t answering. He never not answers. I mean he always answers. Or calls me back. But he’s not. I’ve been trying for over an hour.”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. Let’s go check on him, okay?” He waits for you to agree before moving. When you do, he nods with you. “I’m going to grab my bag and leave a note for Dean. He’s sleeping.”

You nod and rub your arms; it is chilly down in the bunker, and you could swear there is a breeze coming from somewhere. The quiet that fills the room in Sam’s absence is deafening. You hear the air move; there must be a breeze. You can hear it.

A gentle touch on your elbow steals the breath from your lungs as you jump and whirl around. Sam freezes with his hands up. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Relief floods your lungs as you shake your head. “It’s okay.”

“Here. Take this,” he says, holding his hoodie out to you. “It’s a bit cold out there today. You’ll want this.” His smile invokes a tugging feeling in your chest.

You keep calling Jonah’s phone over and over again on the long drive back to no avail. Sam says nothing about his exhaustion, but the bags under his eyes tell enough. He desperately needs sleep, but Jonah might be in trouble. You can’t stop. You don’t know the way, and you’re pretty sure Dean would kill Sam if he let you drive the Impala, never mind the fact that you’re high on painkillers.

“It’s probably nothing,” Sam says after a yawn. They come more frequently now, and even when you don’t look directly at him, you yawn too. “His battery might be dead, or maybe he left it in his car and just can’t hear it. There could be any number of explanations.”

You nod. “I know.” But it doesn’t soothe you. You send one more text.

Please call me. I need to know you’re okay.

Nothing.

Jonah’s car isn’t outside his apartment when you arrive, but you leap out of the Impala and run up to the door anyway, knocking like a woodpecker looking for a meal. The door finally creaks open as Sam comes up behind you, and one of Jonah’s sleepy roommates peeks out. “Hey, [Y/N].”

“Hey, Jordan. Is Jonah home? I can’t get a hold of him.”

Jordan scopes Sam over with puffy eyes. His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows and turns back to you. “I didn’t hear him come in last night. Thought he was with you?” When you shake your head, he says, “You try calling him?”

You nod. Of course, you did. Like a hundred times.

Jordan shakes his head. “Come in. I’ll check his room.” He disappears from the entrance, leaving the door ajar for you and Sam to step inside. “He’s not here,” Jordan calls, mid-yawn, from Jonah’s bedroom door.

You ask him to check again.

“See for yourself. I hate to be rude, but I’m a bit hungover.” Jordan gives you a half-wave and slips back into his own room.

You rush to the door and peek inside; sure enough, the room is empty. Sam steps in around you and pulls the EMF detector from his utility jacket. He switches it on, but there’s nothing.

“I don’t...” You shake your head. If he’s not here, where?

“There’s nothing here,” Sam says, slipping the gadget back into his pocket. “He must have just stayed out overnight somewhere.”

Satisfied there is nothing to find here, Sam ushers you out of the room. As you both turn to leave, you see him standing in the doorway, staring you down with an eerily calm look on his face.

“Jonah!” You cry and run toward him with your arms outstretched. You notice that he doesn’t so much as twitch but you don’t care. You’re just so happy to see him alive and well. So happy that you pay no attention to the slight shift in his eye color.

“[Y/N], stop!” Sam’s scream zaps through you.

You stop just inches from reaching Jonah when you see it; this time you pay attention.

Jonah’s eyes are pitch black.