None Goes His Way Alone

By Coffeemaniac

Not Slash

A/N: Set in Season 1. After Shadow but before Devil's Trap.

"There is a destiny that makes us brothers: None goes his way alone: All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own." (Edwin Markham)

The Scheme

Jacob Moore ran fingers down the strikingly blue tie around his neck. Made of expensive silk, it felt smooth and velvety. The color was too bright, though, and he wouldn't have bought it for himself. When his wife presented it to him she said it matched his eyes. He knew better. His eyes hadn't been bright since their daughter's death. His eyes stared back at him from mirrors with nothing but the dismal hue of a gray sky.

He touched the heavy maple desk next. Smooth and cool, he breathed in the scent of the wood mixed with papers and ink and the lingering aroma of cigars. Jacob used to enjoy smoking rare tobaccos when the staff left the building and his space was his own. He still smoked but he didn't find any joy in it anymore.

His thickly stuffed leather chair creaked as he leaned forward to reach for the single photograph on his desk. A work of art, taken by a professional, showed his wife with her short, blond hair sitting straight and severe while holding his tiny daughter. The child smiled gracefully like her mother but her eyes spoke of childish expectancy. With long, blond curls arranged upon her shoulders and pudgy fingers draped across her mother's arm, Jessica looked back at her father for eternity, trapped in the body of a four year old, happy and full of life.

She shouldn't have died a mere seventeen years later. Her body destroyed. Her mind, so inquisitive, so intelligent and so promising, silenced. With brutal efficiency, a fire had ended all of her choices and all of her chances and it never should have happened.

Jacob grieved for his daughter every day. Nothing took the pain away. He wanted desperately to hold her and hear her voice. He looked around his enormous office with its expensive furnishings and artistic decorations and cursed it all. His money and success meant nothing in the face of losing his precious child.

Justine refused to show her grief with as much vehemence as Jacob clung to his. She was Jessica's mother and Jacob's wife and yet, she couldn't give in. She couldn't surrender to the agony of their loss. Her stoicism felt like a knife slicing through Jacob's soul. Her insistence on continuing to soldier on in the face of Jacob's shredded emotions made her a stranger.

Intellectually, Jacob knew that Justine simply could not stare at the emptiness that Jessica left behind. He understood that if Justine stopped, even for a moment, to face the reality that their daughter was gone forever then she would collapse and never recover. His wife was neither equipped nor prepared to deal with this kind of gut wrenching loss.

Still, Jessica was their daughter and he needed to grieve with his wife. He needed solace from her and he needed to give solace in return. Justine's rejection of him only stirred anger and resentment.

Jacob pushed himself away from his desk and stood. He traveled the few steps to the massive picture window overlooking a dark, rainy day from the 17th floor. Beautiful and dismal at the same time, he felt overwhelmingly sad knowing that his daughter would never share the view with him.

When she was twelve or so, she used to beg to come to work with him. And even though she'd always be bored within the first hours of morning, she still wanted to be with him. When she grew older, she'd bring him lunch or drop by just to talk. The day before she started her first classes at Stanford, she convinced him to take her shopping at the campus stores. They had met in his office and she stared out of the window commenting on the beautiful view of the city and chattering excitedly about college.

They had spent the whole afternoon together and he indulged her every request knowing that their lives were irrevocably changing.

Jacob heard the door open behind him with its swish against the carpet. That sound greeted him several times a day and meant many things from a catastrophe with shipping to lunch with his CEO to a moment of flirting while his secretary read him messages. This was the first time that hearing that sound filled him with anxiety.

He remained at the window, worried that his uncertainty might show when he turned around.

"Mr. Moore," Michael Battle said. "Your secretary wasn't at her desk. I hope it's all right that I came in."

Jacob didn't answer immediately. It took another moment for him to gather courage.

"It's fine," he said and pulled himself out of his memories. He slipped into his business man role, wrapping it like armor to his body. He continued looking out the window.

Battle's reflection in the glass seemed ghostly.

"Are you ready to discuss what it is that you wish to hire me for?" Battle asked.

"Yes," Jacob answered decisively and turned around.

"Please sit down." He indicated the leather chairs in front of his desk. "May I offer you something?"

Battle pulled his pant legs up a bit and settled. "No, thank you."

"All right then. I need to tell you a story and then we can discuss how it affects my need for someone of your skill set."

Battle sat back, his massive body filling the chair. Michael Battle evoked thoughts of body building contests, exercise machine informercials and the silly "kick sand in your face" cartoons that used to be popular. With a height of 6'6" and muscles that seemed to ache for release from their prison of skin, he was the most physically impressive person that Jacob had ever seen. Deeply tanned and sporting a blond buzz cut, he practically screamed "mercenary" from his very pores.

Jacob took one more breath before he started speaking.

"My daughter, Jessica, was enrolled at Stanford University. She was studying both law and psychology as she hadn't quite decided on a career path. I expected her to choose psychology because of her overwhelming curiosity about people. In any event, she was not on the Dean's List but she earned respectable grades and she wasn't wasting the money that we invested in her education."

Battle seemed to be truly listening as Jacob spoke. He didn't interrupt with needless comments but he leaned forward in his chair with hands clasped in his lap and nodded as if encouraging Jacob to continue.

"Two years in, Jessica met a young man named Samuel Winchester. They were nearly the same age. While he wasn't wealthy, he was intelligent and had earned a full scholarship to Stanford. He was studying Law. When Jessica brought him home for the Thanksgiving holiday, I knew she was serious about him so I had my staff run a background check. He was raised by his father and seemed to have no roots or permanent home. His mother died while he was an infant. He has one brother, no sisters. His father was apparently a mechanic but I don't know how he managed to earn a living with all the traveling they did. We did discover some evidence of credit card fraud related to the father but Sam's record was clean."

Jacob hesitated. He hadn't intended to make excuses for Sam Winchester.

"In any event, Jessica fell in love with him. They ended up renting an apartment together near the campus. It was a rat trap and I offered to put them some place better but Jessica didn't want that. She liked it there, said she felt comfortable and safe. Said she felt independent. Both of them stayed in school and Jessica seemed genuinely happy. Sam came home with her for Christmas and a few weekends. My wife and I accepted his presence in her life and in ours."

Hesitating again, Jacob leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. It was still difficult to talk about the end.

"Take your time, sir," Battle said gently, almost too gently for a man his size.

"Then, last November, just after Halloween, Jessica called her mother to say that Sam had left town for the weekend. Apparently, his brother had shown up unexpectedly and convinced Sam to take a short road trip. Jessica was very unhappy about the whole thing. She said that Sam spoke well of his brother but made virtually no attempt to keep in contact with him. She found it odd that he would agree to the trip. Her mother tried to comfort her, to reassure her. When they hung up, Justine, my wife, told me that she thought Jessica was worrying over nothing. That was the last time that we spoke with her. On November 2nd, very early in the morning, the chief of campus security at Stanford called to tell us that Jessica was dead."

Battle exhaled as if he was surprised, even saddened by Jacob's words. And even though, Jacob recognized the platitude for what it was, he was encouraged to continue.

"We didn't ask about Sam, not right away. They told us the apartment caught fire and Jessica was killed. Neither one of us cared to see an autopsy report. We wanted to believe that smoke took her, not fire. We wanted to believe that she didn't suffer. A few days later, we found out that Sam had been in the apartment with her but he had just arrived home. He hadn't been able to save her. I think it was realizing he had been there that changed things for me. It was just a slight doubt but with each passing day, it grew. It took some time to develop the courage but eventually I did ask for the autopsy results and then the police report. I found out that one of Jessica's ribs had a nick in the bone that's usually associated with stabbing. I found out that she didn't suffocate from smoke inhalation but rather, burned to death. The most horrific sort of death. I found out that Sam's brother dragged him from the apartment leaving her there to die alone."

Jacob realized suddenly that he was standing and pacing. He hadn't even realized that he left his desk. Trembling as he often did when thinking about Jessica's awful death he squeezed his hands into fists.

"I think…I think…that Sam Winchester murdered my daughter. The autopsy results were inconclusive regarding the damage to her rib. Apparently, the coroner felt that it could have happened when debris fell on her but I had other experts look. I was told that it looks like a very deep knife wound. So, I think he murdered her. Maybe his brother helped or maybe he just helped cover it up. I don't know which."

Battle didn't speak at first. He relaxed into the chair and waited. Jacob waited too. It wasn't easy to say the next words that needed to be spoken out loud. Then finally, Battle opened the door for him.

"What do you want me to do about Sam Winchester?"

"I want you to capture him and find out what happened to my daughter. If he killed her, as I expect that he did, I want you to help me kill him."

"And his brother?"

"I won't know the answer to that until I know what happened to Jessica."

Battle nodded. "I understand, sir."

Jacob spent the next several minutes discussing details and fees and a time table. He handed Battle a folder that documented the research Jacob had collected regarding Sam's life.

"Do you know how to get in touch with him?" Battle asked as he stared at a photo of Jessica and Sam.

"Yes. I'm sure if I ask him to come here, he will."

"All right, well, if you don't mind, give him a call and let's see what happens."

Jacob expected this but he didn't expect to have to do it so soon. He was prepared to pick up the phone in the morning, from his car or from his office with a cup of coffee and a shot of good whiskey.

"Sir, will that be all right?" Battle asked, still holding the photo in big, meaty hands.

Jacob nodded, feeling the muscles in his neck move stiffly with the movement.

"Yes, of course."

He opened his phone and scrolled through the numbers. He kept everyone organized by last name so it took a moment to find Winchester. He almost closed the phone again and called the plan off until Jessica's name popped up with her smiling face beside it. The familiar anger surged back up again and the doubt passed.

He pressed the call button when Sam's name arrived. Beside his number was a photo of a quaint looking cottage door. Jessica had added it to Jacob's phone because she said that for her, Sam had become her new home and she wanted him to remember that.

The number rang a couple of times and then the hesitant voice of Sam Winchester answered.

"Mr. Moore?"

"Yes. You kept my number."

"I meant it when I said to call me if you needed anything."

"You sound like you're in a car."

"My brother and I are still on our road trip."

"The road trip. I remember something about that. I don't know where you are but I'd like to see you."

"Uh, well, um, I'm not too far, I guess. We're in Arizona, up by the Colorado border."

"You remember where we live?" Jacob asked. He glanced at Battle who was listening intently to his words.

"Yeah, of course. I can be there by tomorrow night if you…I mean…what's this about?"

"Justine and I finally went through her belongings. There are some things, some items that we think you would want. I need to get this wrapped up, Sam. Will you come here? Right away?"

A moment's hesitation passed and then Sam's voice again. "We've been driving all day so we'll stop tonight and then head in your direction first thing in the morning. We should be there by early evening."

"This is very personal, Sam. I'd rather you didn't bring your brother to the house. Will that be a problem?"

"Oh, uh, no, I'll come by myself."

"Thank you. We'll have dinner waiting."

"That's not necessary, Mr. Moore."

"Good bye, Sam."

Jacob ended the call and put the phone in his jacket pocket. Battle nodded at him with the smallest of smiles. The older man opened the side drawer to his desk and withdrew a small card. The light cardboard felt smooth against his fingertips. The clean, black writing stood out against white paper. He handed it to Battle with some relief at having it out of his hands.

"That's the address of a residence my cousin owned. He died a couple of years ago so it's empty now. The cellar has been outfitted based on some specifications that I was able to obtain from a friend of mine, a general who served in Afghanistan."

"You're very prepared, sir."

"I need answers, Mr. Battle. I need to know why my daughter is dead."

"I can do that."

"All right then. The deposit will be in your account within the hour. The balance will be transferred upon our final interview."