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kricketsI just want to say that I'm pretty nervous about working with these characters for the first time, since this is my very first Supernatural fic. Comments and concrit are more than welcome.
For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
we_take_five ficathon: prompt, smear.
Title: A Lover in My Bed, and a Gun to My Head
Chapter: 1 of 4: Humans are Animals Too
Wordcount: 3174
Fandom & Pairings: Supernatural - Dean/Jo(centric), Sam/Jo
Rating: NC-17, Violence, Language, Sexuality
Genre: Angst/Drama/Action
Warnings: Spoilers up to BUABS
Thanks to:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kmousie & purestvixen
Synopsis: Set about two years in the future, Jo is in over her head on a hunt and calls Dean & Sam for help.
A Lover in My Bed, and a Gun to My Head
Chapter 1: Humans are Animals Too
Silver City, New Mexico
present day
Jo drops to her knees, unable to stand any longer. Soon she’s on all fours, making bloody handprints across the concrete as she tries to stand up. Her bones no longer ache. She wills herself to feel, for it is pain that gives her strength. It has always been that way with her. She rests one cheek on the cold stone floor as she curls into the fetal position, giving in to her weakness – giving up. She, Joanna Beth Harvelle, is throwing in the towel. Mama will disapprove, of course. But seeing as she won’t be around to hear that particular lecture, she chuckles at the thought. Stubborn runs in the family. Family. Daddy, she thinks. She closes her eyes now, fresh tears carving a pathway through the blood.
She’s fought demons before, but this son of a bitch was different. She exorcised him. She recited the Latin a dozen times. She knows she got all the incantations right. She did it again and again. He only laughed – toying with her, telling her that the gathering will happen whether she wants it to or not – something about the coming pack and not to fight it. Werewolves. They weren’t scavengers, but if she wasn’t dead when the rest of them found her, they would eat her alive on principle alone.
Doc is dead. On her last trip back to the Roadhouse, she overheard him talking about a job over a few beers and a game of pool. Said it was a piece of cake but his partner had flaked and would the mighty huntress like to accompany him? She was hard up for a good hunt. All of her recent leads had been dead-ends. Halfway through the job, she realized just how wrong Doc was about the whole thing. That’s the last time I’ll ever listen to that fucking scumbag, she remembers thinking. Only it really was.
Somewhere between the failed exorcism and this abandoned warehouse, she picked up the phone and called Dean. Last she heard, he and Sam were headed to Arizona. They’d be pretty close – a few hours at the most. Did he say he’d come? Did she tell him how serious it was? Did she cry? Did she even get through to his line? She can’t remember. All she remembers now is being thrown through a glass window onto the alley, a dagger in her belly, a dead werewolf, his human body – blue-eyed and blonde and younger than she is – and the vomit that comes afterward. She’s bleeding out. She can feel it happening.
She hates New Mexico – and not just because it is, it seems, going to be her final resting place. She just hates it. From the moment she crosses the state line, she is overcome with a feeling of foreboding – a feeling she is not welcome. Everything here tastes stale, and there’s always sand in the corners of her eyes. She even hates the way the words sound in her mouth. She’ll never come back here if she ever gets out. Please, God, she thinks, the realization finally coming over her that she doesn’t want to die and if all she does is lie there, that is exactly what is going to happen.
“Get up, Jo,” she tells herself aloud. “Get up!” Her voice is pounding in her head, but soon she realizes it is only coming out as a soft whimper, a useless tiny sound. She starts to cry, heaving and gasping for air, when she hears something coming closer, heavy footfalls vibrating around her.
“Jo?” Dean’s voice sounds so far away, but he’s kneeling beside her a moment later, his knees brushing her side and his hand on her shoulder. “Jo…Jo! Hang in there!” He pulls her to him, lifting her from the floor and into his arms as he stands. She mouths his name, but no words come out.
“Sammy!” He calls for his brother, his voice panic-laden. Jo reaches up to touch his face, smearing blood on his jaw and lower lip before her eyes close and her head lolls back.
Dean carries her out to the car. With every step, she seems heavier in his arms. She is covered in blood, and Dean finds himself struggling to breathe. There is so much blood. He can’t help being angry with her for going off with Doc. He’s warned her about him before – a careless hunter and one who’s gotten more than a couple of his partners into trouble. “Dammit, Jo!”
“Dean?” Sam rushes out of the building and down the stone steps. “Is she alright?”
”She’s hurt bad.” Dean is surprised his vocal chords still work. “Now open the goddamn door.”
There are good and bad things about being a hunter. One of the good things is that when you save people’s lives, they feel indebted to you forever. The downside of that is that one day, inevitably, you’re gonna find yourself in a situation where you need them to live up to those words uttered as half-goodbyes. If there’s anything you need. They say it because they feel safer with you in their world and because it’s the right thing to say. But the truth is they never really want you to knock on their doors. Because that means there’s something even you don’t know how to fix, and where does that leave them?
When Sam brings in a nurse from a nearby hospital that they helped with a poltergeist a few months back to stitch up Jo, Dean remembers the good. But the next night, when he carries a bundle of sheets – soaked in Jo’s blood – down to the dumpsters outside, he remembers the bad.
Jo was never a part of the plan. But it’s clear – from the first day he’s introduced to the barrel of her shotgun at the Roadhouse – that she’s not all that interested in plans or fitting into them.
He said he’d call her again, but the truth is he never meant it. She worked her way into this place in his life where he felt responsible for her safety. Maybe it’s because of Ellen or the way Jo looks at him – that mixture of anger and expectation. Whatever it was, he didn’t need another Sammy in his life. One was enough. So when he had promised her that, it had always been a lie.
Duluth, Minnesota
one year prior
It is Sam who brings her back to them. He wakes up one morning after a hunt in Oregon a little more than year later and suddenly remembers everything – what he did to her. Dean doesn’t ask because Dean doesn’t want to know. He only nods and tells Sam they’ll go, so he can apologize; make her see that he is him again and that he would never hurt her. Dean, on the other hand, already has hurt her. And he has no excuse.
They find Jo wiping tables one night in the same barroom where Dean had stopped the demon in Sam from doing whatever it was about to do to her. She smiles with closed lips and talks to Sam alone for hours after her shift. She looks different, grown-up, or just tired – like she’s seen too much. Dean drinks, overhears the two of them swapping stories about the past year’s hunts, and never says a word. At closing time, Sam tells Dean they’ll stick around tomorrow, his conscience not yet at ease, and walks across the street to their hotel.
“You can stop brooding,” she says when they’re alone, but she doesn’t look at him, hasn’t yet. “I knew you wouldn’t.”
He grabs her arm roughly, his reflexes still on point despite the amount of alcohol in his blood. Her muscles under his hand are taut and lean, seasoned from a year of hunting alone. The thought of it sickens him. “And how would you know that?”
She jerks her arm out of his grasp. She is strong and stubborn, just like he remembers her. “You’re not as complex as you think.”
“What do you know about it, Jo?” he growls, the smell of booze on his breath giving away just how many drinks he’s downed over the past few hours. Dean isn’t going to be a nice drunk – not tonight.
“Plenty.” She shoves her chair back. It screeches along the wooden floor and echoes throughout the nearly empty bar. “Tell your brother I’ll see him tomorrow.”
Because Dean loves his brother, he doesn’t say no when Sam asks him if they can stay in town for a few more days. He doesn’t utter a word when Jo brings a file folder thick with information to their hotel room. He doesn’t whine when Sam eagerly accepts her invitation to share a local case. He doesn’t even protest when Jo fills his trunk with her gear, shiny and sharp and too girly for his taste.
The days turn into a week, and then another. And then there is Sam. Sam is too wrapped up in his own guilt to see the tension between the two of them rise and fall with every new lead, every round of rock salt.
And when the beastie is put to rest, Dean doesn’t even flinch when they celebrate at the bar, Sam’s fingers lingering a bit too long on Jo’s hips. He even pretends not to notice Jo leaning in to whisper something in Sam’s ear as they walk past him to the dance floor, his brother’s aftershave and the smell of her shampoo mixing together in a sickening amalgam of fruit and musk that makes the contents of his stomach rise up in his throat. Or maybe that’s just the booze.
Sam turns in early that night, but not before disappearing into a dark hallway with Jo, out of sight. When he’s gone, Jo saunters up to where Dean sits at the bar. She leans back on the counter, using it keep her steady, her blood alcohol level a bit higher than normal.
“Six days,” she says simply.
Dean flashes a sideways glance at her, his brows knitting together. “What the hell are you talking about, Harvelle?”
“You haven’t spoken to me in six days,” she elaborates. “You haven’t even looked at me in eight.”
She pretends not to notice this dance of theirs, the one of avoidance mixed with acute awareness, but the closer she gets to Sam, the tighter Dean’s jaw clenches and the harder it becomes to ignore.
“Yeah well,” he draws out after a long drink, “I don’t have a problem keeping it that way, do you?”
“Why do you hate me, Dean?” she asks then, because it’s not as though she hasn’t been thinking it since that night they showed back up in Duluth. “What did I ever do to you?”
“I don’t hate you, Jo,” he says, because it’s the truth.
She laughs then, throwing her head back and reaching out for his arm like an old friend. He flinches at her touch, but he doesn’t mean to. The tension between them has been so built up over the last few weeks that it surprises him when she pushes right through it, those earlier shots of whiskey fueling her courage. But after a moment, her amusement subsides, and she draws her hand back.
“I’m glad you find this funny.”
“Let’s make a deal,” Jo says, her voice steady now, serious.
“Not interested,” Dean says and stands abruptly. He hates how she gets to him. Without even trying, she is under his skin, inside his brain and gnawing away at the part of him that he liked to ignore – the jealous part, the part that cares about her, the part that feels like keeping her at arm’s length is just about the dumbest idea he’s ever had. “We’re here because Sam wants us to be here. I don’t know everything he did when he was under, but for whatever reason it makes him feel like he owes you something. Don’t mistake that, Jo, because I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
Jo clenches her jaw, watching him walk away as the cloudiness somehow subsides with her anger. “Fuck you,” she whispers, but not loud enough for him to hear. All that strength she prides herself on crashes to the floor like a thick empty tumbler, rolls around until it settles someplace where she can’t get it back. Hiding behind knives and silver bullets will never protect her from how much Dean Winchester can hurt her.
A call from one of John’s old contacts about a possible haunting near Jackson Hole the next day is just what Dean is hoping for. The sooner back on the road the better, he figures. But when Sam throws that all-too-familiar small black duffel into the trunk of the Impala later that afternoon, Dean finally cracks.
“Hell no!” These are the first words that come to mind, and they come barreling out of his mouth like a cannonball that has been wedged in just a little too tightly.
“Why the hell not?” Sam is usually so good at reading people, at reading Dean. It is a quality Dean himself is short on, and frankly, he is pissed as hell that his own brother hasn’t figured it out by now. Dean wants as far away from Jo Harvelle as he can possibly get. “She’s a good hunter,” Sam adds. “Besides, she says we owe her one anyway.”
“Did she now?” Dean is reminded of their conversation in the bar the night before, and he chuckles. Of course she’d make him regret is own words. Always with the last word, that one. “Well I’ll take that into consideration when we get to Wyoming, alone.”
“Dude, come on.” Sam flashes him a pleading look and Dean knows what it means.
“Ain’t gonna happen, Sammy,” Dean waves his hand and picks up Jo’s bag, dropping it into the dirt. “Not this time.”
“It’s too late. She’s on her way over here right now,” Sam argues and picks it back up, tossing it into the trunk defiantly.
“Save it. She is not going on the road with us just so you can get into her pants, Sammy. I know you’re hard up, Mr. Sensitive, but dude, find somewhere else to stick it!” Dean throws the bag this time, and it hits Sam square in the chest, who catches it.
“Dean,” Sam warns. “Don’t talk about her like that. What is your problem?”
“Fucking no! How many ways can I say it? Sammy, I am not changing my mind about this.”
Reliance, South Dakota
They stop for the night in Reliance, South Dakota, halfway between Duluth and Jackson Hole. Dean would drive all night but he is hungry and angry and just plain sick and tired of listening to Jo and Sam in the back seat, chatting and bonding and asking him to turn the music down. What the fuck? This is his car, isn’t it? He turns it up, blasting the Zeppelin, and Sam smacks him on the back of head, and that’s it. He pulls off. “I’m not dealing with any more of this shit tonight,” he grumbles, and then adds something about not being their damn chauffer.
Reliance is a ghost town. Not a damn thing but a roadside motel with one vacancy and no diner in sight. “Could you have picked a more Podunk town to bunker down in?” Jo teases.
“Shut up,” Dean says as he tosses his bag nearest bed in the room, which smells of bleach and old sex.
Sam follows them into the room with the rest of their crap and hooks his arm around Dean’s neck. “I suppose the genius who landed us here wouldn’t mind venturing out to find us some food? I’m starving.”
“Dammit,” Dean whines. “Fuck you both.”
Dean drives around for an hour, circling the same farm houses, passing the motel at least a half a dozen times, and finds nothing but a gas station with a crappy convenient mart. It’s a last resort, and a shitty one at that. He fills up the Impala and buys all the beef jerky and packaged pastries he can grab.
He doesn’t notice that the room is empty when he enters, tossing the provisions onto a chair and his keys onto the table. He only realizes he’s alone when he hears a crash coming from the bathroom.
He jerks his head around only to see Jo’s half naked form sitting on the counter through the half-open door, her legs wrapped around his brother’s waist, their mouths covering each others, too absorbed in their fucking to notice him. She still wears her bra and boots, and Dean tries to ignore how hard that makes him. She groans low and Dean thinks he hears her whimper “fuck,” as Sam moves in and out of her, fingers digging into Sam’s sinewy back muscles.
Dean flushes. The proper thing to do is to turn around and walk away, but he is paralyzed, a deer in the headlights, filled with fascination and fear and, somewhere in the pit of his stomach, anger.
Jo cries out when Sam pulls himself from her. “Sam, please!” she gasps. He crushes his mouth to hers, silencing her, and pulls her off the counter, turning her around. He bends over her and hitches her hips up toward his, plunging his cock into her from behind. “Fuck!” she cries. Dean is sure of it this time. His cock twitches at the sound of her pleasure. “Oh, god,” she growls low.
The sound of his brother’s voice calling her name is desperate and pleading, followed by a high and hitching gasp, almost feral – the kind of noise you make when your entire body forgets all the show and pretension of waking life and remembers that humans are animals too. It is a quiet and intimate sound and one that Dean is not intended to hear.
The sound of the door slamming shut behind him does not escape Jo. She glances up just in time to see him stalking past the window. Sam is oblivious as he continues to pump her from behind. His hand snakes down her side and around to her cunt where he works at her tiny bud with his index finger. She sucks in a quick breath, closes her eyes, bites her lip, and tries not to think of Dean when she comes.
Ch. 2 - Thank God for Independence Day
For the
we_take_five ficathon: prompt, smear. Title: A Lover in My Bed, and a Gun to My Head
Chapter: 1 of 4: Humans are Animals Too
Wordcount: 3174
Fandom & Pairings: Supernatural - Dean/Jo(centric), Sam/Jo
Rating: NC-17, Violence, Language, Sexuality
Genre: Angst/Drama/Action
Warnings: Spoilers up to BUABS
Thanks to:
kmousie & purestvixenSynopsis: Set about two years in the future, Jo is in over her head on a hunt and calls Dean & Sam for help.
A Lover in My Bed, and a Gun to My Head
Chapter 1: Humans are Animals Too
present day
Jo drops to her knees, unable to stand any longer. Soon she’s on all fours, making bloody handprints across the concrete as she tries to stand up. Her bones no longer ache. She wills herself to feel, for it is pain that gives her strength. It has always been that way with her. She rests one cheek on the cold stone floor as she curls into the fetal position, giving in to her weakness – giving up. She, Joanna Beth Harvelle, is throwing in the towel. Mama will disapprove, of course. But seeing as she won’t be around to hear that particular lecture, she chuckles at the thought. Stubborn runs in the family. Family. Daddy, she thinks. She closes her eyes now, fresh tears carving a pathway through the blood.
She’s fought demons before, but this son of a bitch was different. She exorcised him. She recited the Latin a dozen times. She knows she got all the incantations right. She did it again and again. He only laughed – toying with her, telling her that the gathering will happen whether she wants it to or not – something about the coming pack and not to fight it. Werewolves. They weren’t scavengers, but if she wasn’t dead when the rest of them found her, they would eat her alive on principle alone.
Doc is dead. On her last trip back to the Roadhouse, she overheard him talking about a job over a few beers and a game of pool. Said it was a piece of cake but his partner had flaked and would the mighty huntress like to accompany him? She was hard up for a good hunt. All of her recent leads had been dead-ends. Halfway through the job, she realized just how wrong Doc was about the whole thing. That’s the last time I’ll ever listen to that fucking scumbag, she remembers thinking. Only it really was.
Somewhere between the failed exorcism and this abandoned warehouse, she picked up the phone and called Dean. Last she heard, he and Sam were headed to Arizona. They’d be pretty close – a few hours at the most. Did he say he’d come? Did she tell him how serious it was? Did she cry? Did she even get through to his line? She can’t remember. All she remembers now is being thrown through a glass window onto the alley, a dagger in her belly, a dead werewolf, his human body – blue-eyed and blonde and younger than she is – and the vomit that comes afterward. She’s bleeding out. She can feel it happening.
She hates New Mexico – and not just because it is, it seems, going to be her final resting place. She just hates it. From the moment she crosses the state line, she is overcome with a feeling of foreboding – a feeling she is not welcome. Everything here tastes stale, and there’s always sand in the corners of her eyes. She even hates the way the words sound in her mouth. She’ll never come back here if she ever gets out. Please, God, she thinks, the realization finally coming over her that she doesn’t want to die and if all she does is lie there, that is exactly what is going to happen.
“Get up, Jo,” she tells herself aloud. “Get up!” Her voice is pounding in her head, but soon she realizes it is only coming out as a soft whimper, a useless tiny sound. She starts to cry, heaving and gasping for air, when she hears something coming closer, heavy footfalls vibrating around her.
“Jo?” Dean’s voice sounds so far away, but he’s kneeling beside her a moment later, his knees brushing her side and his hand on her shoulder. “Jo…Jo! Hang in there!” He pulls her to him, lifting her from the floor and into his arms as he stands. She mouths his name, but no words come out.
“Sammy!” He calls for his brother, his voice panic-laden. Jo reaches up to touch his face, smearing blood on his jaw and lower lip before her eyes close and her head lolls back.
Dean carries her out to the car. With every step, she seems heavier in his arms. She is covered in blood, and Dean finds himself struggling to breathe. There is so much blood. He can’t help being angry with her for going off with Doc. He’s warned her about him before – a careless hunter and one who’s gotten more than a couple of his partners into trouble. “Dammit, Jo!”
“Dean?” Sam rushes out of the building and down the stone steps. “Is she alright?”
”She’s hurt bad.” Dean is surprised his vocal chords still work. “Now open the goddamn door.”
There are good and bad things about being a hunter. One of the good things is that when you save people’s lives, they feel indebted to you forever. The downside of that is that one day, inevitably, you’re gonna find yourself in a situation where you need them to live up to those words uttered as half-goodbyes. If there’s anything you need. They say it because they feel safer with you in their world and because it’s the right thing to say. But the truth is they never really want you to knock on their doors. Because that means there’s something even you don’t know how to fix, and where does that leave them?
When Sam brings in a nurse from a nearby hospital that they helped with a poltergeist a few months back to stitch up Jo, Dean remembers the good. But the next night, when he carries a bundle of sheets – soaked in Jo’s blood – down to the dumpsters outside, he remembers the bad.
Jo was never a part of the plan. But it’s clear – from the first day he’s introduced to the barrel of her shotgun at the Roadhouse – that she’s not all that interested in plans or fitting into them.
He said he’d call her again, but the truth is he never meant it. She worked her way into this place in his life where he felt responsible for her safety. Maybe it’s because of Ellen or the way Jo looks at him – that mixture of anger and expectation. Whatever it was, he didn’t need another Sammy in his life. One was enough. So when he had promised her that, it had always been a lie.
one year prior
It is Sam who brings her back to them. He wakes up one morning after a hunt in Oregon a little more than year later and suddenly remembers everything – what he did to her. Dean doesn’t ask because Dean doesn’t want to know. He only nods and tells Sam they’ll go, so he can apologize; make her see that he is him again and that he would never hurt her. Dean, on the other hand, already has hurt her. And he has no excuse.
They find Jo wiping tables one night in the same barroom where Dean had stopped the demon in Sam from doing whatever it was about to do to her. She smiles with closed lips and talks to Sam alone for hours after her shift. She looks different, grown-up, or just tired – like she’s seen too much. Dean drinks, overhears the two of them swapping stories about the past year’s hunts, and never says a word. At closing time, Sam tells Dean they’ll stick around tomorrow, his conscience not yet at ease, and walks across the street to their hotel.
“You can stop brooding,” she says when they’re alone, but she doesn’t look at him, hasn’t yet. “I knew you wouldn’t.”
He grabs her arm roughly, his reflexes still on point despite the amount of alcohol in his blood. Her muscles under his hand are taut and lean, seasoned from a year of hunting alone. The thought of it sickens him. “And how would you know that?”
She jerks her arm out of his grasp. She is strong and stubborn, just like he remembers her. “You’re not as complex as you think.”
“What do you know about it, Jo?” he growls, the smell of booze on his breath giving away just how many drinks he’s downed over the past few hours. Dean isn’t going to be a nice drunk – not tonight.
“Plenty.” She shoves her chair back. It screeches along the wooden floor and echoes throughout the nearly empty bar. “Tell your brother I’ll see him tomorrow.”
Because Dean loves his brother, he doesn’t say no when Sam asks him if they can stay in town for a few more days. He doesn’t utter a word when Jo brings a file folder thick with information to their hotel room. He doesn’t whine when Sam eagerly accepts her invitation to share a local case. He doesn’t even protest when Jo fills his trunk with her gear, shiny and sharp and too girly for his taste.
The days turn into a week, and then another. And then there is Sam. Sam is too wrapped up in his own guilt to see the tension between the two of them rise and fall with every new lead, every round of rock salt.
And when the beastie is put to rest, Dean doesn’t even flinch when they celebrate at the bar, Sam’s fingers lingering a bit too long on Jo’s hips. He even pretends not to notice Jo leaning in to whisper something in Sam’s ear as they walk past him to the dance floor, his brother’s aftershave and the smell of her shampoo mixing together in a sickening amalgam of fruit and musk that makes the contents of his stomach rise up in his throat. Or maybe that’s just the booze.
Sam turns in early that night, but not before disappearing into a dark hallway with Jo, out of sight. When he’s gone, Jo saunters up to where Dean sits at the bar. She leans back on the counter, using it keep her steady, her blood alcohol level a bit higher than normal.
“Six days,” she says simply.
Dean flashes a sideways glance at her, his brows knitting together. “What the hell are you talking about, Harvelle?”
“You haven’t spoken to me in six days,” she elaborates. “You haven’t even looked at me in eight.”
She pretends not to notice this dance of theirs, the one of avoidance mixed with acute awareness, but the closer she gets to Sam, the tighter Dean’s jaw clenches and the harder it becomes to ignore.
“Yeah well,” he draws out after a long drink, “I don’t have a problem keeping it that way, do you?”
“Why do you hate me, Dean?” she asks then, because it’s not as though she hasn’t been thinking it since that night they showed back up in Duluth. “What did I ever do to you?”
“I don’t hate you, Jo,” he says, because it’s the truth.
She laughs then, throwing her head back and reaching out for his arm like an old friend. He flinches at her touch, but he doesn’t mean to. The tension between them has been so built up over the last few weeks that it surprises him when she pushes right through it, those earlier shots of whiskey fueling her courage. But after a moment, her amusement subsides, and she draws her hand back.
“I’m glad you find this funny.”
“Let’s make a deal,” Jo says, her voice steady now, serious.
“Not interested,” Dean says and stands abruptly. He hates how she gets to him. Without even trying, she is under his skin, inside his brain and gnawing away at the part of him that he liked to ignore – the jealous part, the part that cares about her, the part that feels like keeping her at arm’s length is just about the dumbest idea he’s ever had. “We’re here because Sam wants us to be here. I don’t know everything he did when he was under, but for whatever reason it makes him feel like he owes you something. Don’t mistake that, Jo, because I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
Jo clenches her jaw, watching him walk away as the cloudiness somehow subsides with her anger. “Fuck you,” she whispers, but not loud enough for him to hear. All that strength she prides herself on crashes to the floor like a thick empty tumbler, rolls around until it settles someplace where she can’t get it back. Hiding behind knives and silver bullets will never protect her from how much Dean Winchester can hurt her.
A call from one of John’s old contacts about a possible haunting near Jackson Hole the next day is just what Dean is hoping for. The sooner back on the road the better, he figures. But when Sam throws that all-too-familiar small black duffel into the trunk of the Impala later that afternoon, Dean finally cracks.
“Hell no!” These are the first words that come to mind, and they come barreling out of his mouth like a cannonball that has been wedged in just a little too tightly.
“Why the hell not?” Sam is usually so good at reading people, at reading Dean. It is a quality Dean himself is short on, and frankly, he is pissed as hell that his own brother hasn’t figured it out by now. Dean wants as far away from Jo Harvelle as he can possibly get. “She’s a good hunter,” Sam adds. “Besides, she says we owe her one anyway.”
“Did she now?” Dean is reminded of their conversation in the bar the night before, and he chuckles. Of course she’d make him regret is own words. Always with the last word, that one. “Well I’ll take that into consideration when we get to Wyoming, alone.”
“Dude, come on.” Sam flashes him a pleading look and Dean knows what it means.
“Ain’t gonna happen, Sammy,” Dean waves his hand and picks up Jo’s bag, dropping it into the dirt. “Not this time.”
“It’s too late. She’s on her way over here right now,” Sam argues and picks it back up, tossing it into the trunk defiantly.
“Save it. She is not going on the road with us just so you can get into her pants, Sammy. I know you’re hard up, Mr. Sensitive, but dude, find somewhere else to stick it!” Dean throws the bag this time, and it hits Sam square in the chest, who catches it.
“Dean,” Sam warns. “Don’t talk about her like that. What is your problem?”
“Fucking no! How many ways can I say it? Sammy, I am not changing my mind about this.”
They stop for the night in Reliance, South Dakota, halfway between Duluth and Jackson Hole. Dean would drive all night but he is hungry and angry and just plain sick and tired of listening to Jo and Sam in the back seat, chatting and bonding and asking him to turn the music down. What the fuck? This is his car, isn’t it? He turns it up, blasting the Zeppelin, and Sam smacks him on the back of head, and that’s it. He pulls off. “I’m not dealing with any more of this shit tonight,” he grumbles, and then adds something about not being their damn chauffer.
Reliance is a ghost town. Not a damn thing but a roadside motel with one vacancy and no diner in sight. “Could you have picked a more Podunk town to bunker down in?” Jo teases.
“Shut up,” Dean says as he tosses his bag nearest bed in the room, which smells of bleach and old sex.
Sam follows them into the room with the rest of their crap and hooks his arm around Dean’s neck. “I suppose the genius who landed us here wouldn’t mind venturing out to find us some food? I’m starving.”
“Dammit,” Dean whines. “Fuck you both.”
Dean drives around for an hour, circling the same farm houses, passing the motel at least a half a dozen times, and finds nothing but a gas station with a crappy convenient mart. It’s a last resort, and a shitty one at that. He fills up the Impala and buys all the beef jerky and packaged pastries he can grab.
He doesn’t notice that the room is empty when he enters, tossing the provisions onto a chair and his keys onto the table. He only realizes he’s alone when he hears a crash coming from the bathroom.
He jerks his head around only to see Jo’s half naked form sitting on the counter through the half-open door, her legs wrapped around his brother’s waist, their mouths covering each others, too absorbed in their fucking to notice him. She still wears her bra and boots, and Dean tries to ignore how hard that makes him. She groans low and Dean thinks he hears her whimper “fuck,” as Sam moves in and out of her, fingers digging into Sam’s sinewy back muscles.
Dean flushes. The proper thing to do is to turn around and walk away, but he is paralyzed, a deer in the headlights, filled with fascination and fear and, somewhere in the pit of his stomach, anger.
Jo cries out when Sam pulls himself from her. “Sam, please!” she gasps. He crushes his mouth to hers, silencing her, and pulls her off the counter, turning her around. He bends over her and hitches her hips up toward his, plunging his cock into her from behind. “Fuck!” she cries. Dean is sure of it this time. His cock twitches at the sound of her pleasure. “Oh, god,” she growls low.
The sound of his brother’s voice calling her name is desperate and pleading, followed by a high and hitching gasp, almost feral – the kind of noise you make when your entire body forgets all the show and pretension of waking life and remembers that humans are animals too. It is a quiet and intimate sound and one that Dean is not intended to hear.
The sound of the door slamming shut behind him does not escape Jo. She glances up just in time to see him stalking past the window. Sam is oblivious as he continues to pump her from behind. His hand snakes down her side and around to her cunt where he works at her tiny bud with his index finger. She sucks in a quick breath, closes her eyes, bites her lip, and tries not to think of Dean when she comes.
Ch. 2 - Thank God for Independence Day
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-03-31 11:35 pm (UTC)There are so many parts that I want to point out, even though I've probably told you a hundred times!
BUT, these are my two FAVORITE parts so far:
Hiding behind knives and silver bullets will never protect her from how much Dean Winchester can hurt her.
AND
She sucks in a quick breath, closes her eyes, bites her lip, and tries not to think of Dean when she comes.
Be proud KC, because this is only the start of something amazing!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 12:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 12:05 am (UTC)I´ll add you so I don´t miss the rest ^^
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 12:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 12:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 12:20 am (UTC)*blush*
I kind of wish that's how it played out on the show
Wow, what a great compliment! Hehe Me too! I hope you like the rest! Next chapter will be posted soon!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 01:41 am (UTC)You have a great start. I like how it starts in the present day before it goes back in time because it makes me wonder how they got there.
I like the triangle. It's that complicated thing (see my icon).
I really like that paragraph about the good and bad things of being hunter. Nice insight.
The scene between Dean and Sam with Jo's bag was very vivid. I could see them tossing it back and forth as they argue about bringing her along.
I think it's believable Dean, when jealous, would just stop talking to Jo like he did for six days.
All the characters work, and I hope poor Sammy doesn't get hurt in the end, but since this is a Dean/Jo fic, it looks like it might be the case.
Don't worry about being nervous. For your first SPN fic, you did well! Looking forward to the next part.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 01:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2007-04-01 02:19 am (UTC)'Fraid so! But it's also going to be worth it! I hope!
Re: The things about being a hunter. Thanks so much for commenting on that. I hope that I'm able to capture not only the story I'm trying to tell but some of what it's like to be in their shoes and do what they do.
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 03:31 am (UTC)Should I get you a cool glass of water? Hahhaa. You're welcome for that!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 02:35 am (UTC)Yay for the Sam/Jo Plot of this story awesome.
Aww Dean sorta being the 3rd Wheel.
Very Very Interesting.
Can't wait for more.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 03:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 03:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 04:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 05:39 am (UTC)Looking forward to more!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 07:05 am (UTC)Update soon as I'm hooked.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 02:02 pm (UTC)Soon, I promise!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 09:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 02:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 09:33 am (UTC)I'm already hooked on a major level. The seething jealousy and anger towards his brother that Dean's harboring, the complete cluelessness of Sam to Dean's jealousy and anger, the way Jo's completely aware of both of them... oh my GOD it makes me want more!
The last line... jesus. I MUST have more. And SOON!!!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 02:04 pm (UTC)The last line... jesus. I MUST have more. And SOON!!!
Hee. Yay.
(Soon, I promise.)
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 10:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 02:05 pm (UTC)And that's for me to know and for you to find out!
*skips off whistling innocently*
(no subject)
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Date: 2007-04-01 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 05:03 pm (UTC)This is amaaaazing. I read it first last night, and was completely in awe, and i ran back this morning to reread & the second time around, it's even more fantastic.
What an great first-time supernatural fic. I think that you do really capture the characters, and I absolutely enjoyed the exciting/dangerous/interesting scenario you've come up with.
I really love what you do with Dean/Jo. Usually I find that writers make Dean forget his contempt for Jo, and his reluctance to have her around... ie: One little touch or a bit of flirtation and Dean's a big cuddly bear and Jo's the greatest girl ever, and the bestest hunter.
Here you've really captured what I imagine is the contradictory feelings that he would have about her, were she to tag along with them on a hunt... It's really powerful, and full of the angst that i would expect from the elderly winchester.
Can I also just say that jealous!Dean is the hottest thing to hit my computer screen. SERIOUSLY. i think that the green-eyed monster, on dean, is one of my biggest fic-kinks... :P
A few favorite lines?
That’s the last time I’ll ever listen to that fucking scumbag, she remembers thinking. Only it really was.
Excellent use of dark humor, I thought. really appropriate for the situation, and quite a fitting Jo voice IMO.
Without even trying, she is under his skin, inside his brain and gnawing away at the part of him that he liked to ignore – the jealous part, the part that cares about her, the part that feels like keeping her at arm’s length is just about the dumbest idea he’s ever had.
The last part is what really gets me... This self-denial thing that Dean has going on it's just... grrr...
Perfect description of someone who's used to sacrificing and denying themselves the things that they need/want/love.
Conclusions?
I LOVED IT LOVED IT LOVED IT.
I honestly thing that this is the start of what will be my favorite Dean/Jo. Fantastic beginning, and I am waiting with bated breath for the next parts :P
(are you still in the writing process, or are you simply posting one bit at a time?)
PS> i really enjoyed the red/italic thoughts and emphasis... i dunno why, personal taste, i guess, but i thought it was nice touch!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 05:17 pm (UTC)To answer your question, everything's outlined and rattling around in my brain. As for the writing. Ch 2 is done and half of Ch 3. Hoping to have the last chapter and a half done in the next couple days. So it's almost there!
I really love what you do with Dean/Jo. Usually I find that writers make Dean forget his contempt for Jo, and his reluctance to have her around...
I think, for me, that's my favorite part of their dynamic. And I definitely wanted to kind of highlight that in my fic so I'm very very pleased it came across that way. Oh, Dean!
Hehe!
Hope to see you around when I post the next part, and I hope it doesn't disappoint!
(no subject)
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Date: 2007-04-01 06:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 10:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-02 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-01 11:22 pm (UTC)What I don't buy though is Sam's ignorance toward the tension between the two. From the beginning on Jo has made her interest in Dean quite obvious and Sam knows that. Even with him feeling guilty about what happened when he was possessed I don't understand how he could be so ignorant of the situation and it makes me much more mad with him than with the other two. Rile your brother up even though you know he has a problem with the girl, let him drive you around all day and then send him for food so you can fuck that girl who you also know has had feelings for your brother is so absolutely not ok. Don't love your Sammy much right now...
Overall, that one chapter hurt and while most of your readers are probably waiting for hot/angry makeup sex between Dean and Jo, I'm a believer of make your choice and live with the consequences. If Jo wants Sam, then so be it, but if she wants Dean, then don't go for the other brother. Trying to get what you want by provoking the green eyed monster is not the way to go. Dean is a stubborn mule, and while I still feel that he is the one most hurt right now, he's had his chance and didn't take it. Sam I just want to smack.
So, I liked it mostly for how you captured the emotion, I am quite mad at the three of them, but I don't see any good coming out of this. Jo getting hurt doesn't change that for me, at least not so far. Maybe I'll change my mind after reading the next chapter.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-02 03:07 am (UTC)I'm a believer of make your choice and live with the consequences.
I definitely don't think you'll be disappointed in this if you keep reading.
As far as GOOD coming from it? I am not sure I'm telling this story for the good. Cause it's the hard stuff that's fun to write about/read about. So you are completely right. No one is going to be OKAY with the outcome. And it shouldn't be any other way.
I just hope that you don't want to smack anyone by the end. Hahaha.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-02 05:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-03 02:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-03 02:36 am (UTC)The sex in the bathroom was super hot. Sam does seem a little overly clueless though. I hope that, assuming you ever show things from Sam's POV, we'll find that Dean isn't 100% right about what's going on in Sam's head.
Thank you so much for writing something with Jo being her awesome self.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-03 02:44 am (UTC)Unless you're referring to th threesome of PAIN. Hee. Gosh I'm so evil.
BTW, next chapter just posted!
And? Jo IS pretty awesome. I feel she's misrepresented in fanfic. Not misrepresented in number, but in character, nore often than not.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-05-24 11:32 pm (UTC)*continues reading*
no subject
Date: 2007-05-25 01:21 am (UTC)THANK YOU SO MUCH for this feedback.
(no subject)
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