Hell opens up and Jess walks out.
She's drawn, like all the others, to the spot in West Virginia where their king waits for them. She's one of the few who goes. She asks one of the others why so many are refusing the call, and the other laughs and says, "haven't you ever heard of the Winchesters?"
Of course she has. What has that to do with the price of peas in Persopolis?
Jess walks straight across the property line in her borrowed body; her eyes are her own, not the host's, letting her see the power that radiates from her king, leading her home.
She knows his majesty on sight, just from the power she sees. The man he's with must be a prince, judging by the way his majesty's power is all knotted around his highness. Jess drops to her knees before his majesty to kiss his steel-toed boots—his highness draws a gun.
"What are you doing?" his majesty asks.
Jess knows that voice. Her head snaps up, and she looks at him with the host's eyes: he's different, harder, more muscular, but he's still Sam.
"I came to swear allegiance to your majesty," Jess says. "I didn't know—Sam, it's me, it's Jess."
Sam doesn't believe her. His highness—and looking at him with the host's eyes, she recognizes him, too, Sam's brother Dean—he doesn't believe her either, and the gun stays steady. Not that a gun will do anything more than hurt the host, and they all know it.
"Remember when Tyson introduced us?" Jess asks, a little desperately. "You said you'd been crushing on me and I hadn't noticed. You were all blushing and adorable. Remember when you brought me roses and I told you not to do that again? Remember the time we went to the Winchester Mystery House and got lost and spent an hour making out before the guide found us? Remember the time we played cops and robbers with sex?"
"Kinky, Sammy," Dean says.
"Shut up," Sam growls. "Both of you."
Jess shuts up.
"You've got some nerve," Sam says, regarding her. "You're not the first demon who's come to swear to me, but you're the first who's tried to read my mind and pass yourself off as someone I loved."
Loved. Past tense.
Jess's heart falls to the floor and shatters.
"Can't fake that reaction," Sam says, and then his hand's under her arm, drawing her up. This host is average height; she should have picked a tall one, but she didn't want one that would be nattering at her all the time, and the selection of comatose young women was slim. Sam has to bend down to kiss her.