Notes: I do not own the television show Supernatural but if I did, they would not have killed Jo or Ellen! I'm so pissed they did. Erg. Darn them. Okay, moving on.
Inscribed As: Decisions
Quotational Inspiration: Anthony Robins
-
More than anything else, I believe it's our decisions, not the
conditions of our lives, that determine our destiny.
.
-
.
She was like the fresh summer rain to him; washing him of his previous sins and allowing him to cleanse his soul. She understood everything that he went through—from fathers and spirits to angles and demons, almost everything he had experienced, she had some knowledge of. Maybe that's what made her so pure to him. The fact that she seemed so untouchable or rather, he didn't want to tarnish his image of her; that's what appealed to him so much.
He was Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, something of a womanizer and not afraid to share his feelings for the opposite sex. He had no qualms with one-night stands and random women; maybe that's why, when it came to Joanna Harvelle, he felt the need to take things slowly.
The night before they charged Lucifer, he had made a shameful pass at the blonde hunter. Though he knew she would say no to the "Last Night on Earth" schpeel, he still couldn't pass up a chance to see that mischievous smile appear on her face. Knowing that the following day may have been their last, he truly had wanted to stay with her. Unfortunately, that player-like status of his he had built up over the years prevented such a happening.
Instead, he had only the feeling of her hand perched on his shoulder as they waited for Bobby's camera to flash, snapping their last photo together. His plan to look suave and nonchalant had crumbled as Castiel opened his mouth to share with them the inevitable outcome they had all known but refused to acknowledge. In place of the planned facade, a pained look of realization and hopelessness contorted his face. Jo appeared to have been thinking along the same lines, her mouth turned downwards in a subtle frown.
That night, after they had brushed off their anxiety for the following day, as best they could the group drank a bit more, Ellen trying her hardest to flip Castiel on his ass, before retiring for the night.
On the way up the stairs, Dean spotted Jo, the blonde hugging Ellen before whispering a "goodnight." The emotions swirling in the mother and daughter's eyes made the man long for his family. Though Dean was not one for outward expressions, he held the inner turmoil of his lost parents close to his heart. Ellen gave a gentle smile to Jo, telling her that the bed was welcome should she want to climb in. Jo laughed. Ellen laughed. Both sounds spoke volumes of their true feelings. Jo promised she'd return after she got a glass of water. (The alcohol, though quite good, had left her tastebuds feeling a tad grimy.)
Jo turned and saw Dean watching her, his eyes like hazel'd gems in a glowing fire, the embers all but burnt away.
"Hey," she murmured.
"Hey, yourself." A short reply, chaste and unattached. Just the way he liked them.
Jo seemed uncomfortable and shifted her weight slightly. Dean watched as her sweatpants twisted around her thin legs and her white cami cinched tighter over her upper body. She rang her hands together and almost jumped when he spoke up, "Jo, I just wanted to say…"
She saw his nervousness and was taken aback by it somewhat. Since when had Dean Winchester become nervous?
She knew, however. She understood what he wanted to say. It was their last day, after all.
"I know," she muttered. It was quite possibly the last time either of them would see each other alive, aside from the fight leading up to their possible deaths. It was acceptable for them to feel a little fear at that prospect. Even knowing there was another side—a place to meet again—they were scared. Scared of what would happen, what they would miss, who they would miss.
Dean nodded, the lump in his throat growing. Instead of telling her, he nodded. Like an idiot, he nodded. They stared at one another for a few fleeting moments before returning to their respective rooms.
So many opportunities. So many times he could have told her. So many chances to say, "Jo, I care about you." No loving yet; just caring. Dean wasn't sure he could love again; not after the life he'd been through. Yet, there was Jo—ever wonderful, ever understanding, ever lovely Jo. He could've seen himself settling down (maybe) with her. Have a few little Winchesters running about their quaint and cozy home. Maybe an SUV to cart the brats around to Uncle Sam's, soccer games, violin lessons. It could've worked. It should've worked. There was Jo.
Only Jo. Always Jo. And suddenly, never Jo.
-
Warmth. It was the one thing she could feel. It was like the weight of her entire body, once full of burdens and pain, was no longer existent. She was only consciously aware of the radiating light about her and the floating sensation she felt. Cautiously opening her eyes, Joanna Harvelle was greeted with a breathtaking sight.
She sat alone, atop a rising hill, shadows dancing over her and the peaceful nothingness that surrounded. And there, in all its mighty glory, suspended in the colored sky, was the sun; it's rays outreaching like thin, wispy fingers, caressing and threading through fine, feathery clouds.
The cirrus forms hid everything blow her from view, making it seem as if she sat on the top of the world except, she suddenly realized, she no longer was on Earth. She had died.
"Damn Hellhounds," she cursed.
Jo crossed her legs, bending her knees to her chest as she looped her arms about them. She sighed, confused as to what she was to do now. It was then that a ghosting shiver ran up her spine and she turned to see a glowing light.
"I am Ramiel," it spoke.
Jo inclined her head at the light, no longer surprised by such occurrences.
"Are you not curious as to what you are doing here, child?"
"Not really," she responded. She knew she had died and, by what she learnt from her mother, she was now preparing to rise to Heaven.
"My child," the voice urged, "you cannot say that you wish to inquire about your being?"
The hunter sighed, "No thanks." It was strange; all those years ago, when she had been told about angels and demons and God, she had seemed so intrigued to learn more. She had begged her mother to tell her stories, relay messages from the Bible, explain Heaven to her and now, now that she was actually here, she wanted nothing more than to get the show on the road. She didn't care about formalities. She wanted her mother. She just wanted to be reunited with her family again.
Dad, she thought. I can finally see you again. She unconsciously smiled at the thought and waited for the hovering light to proceed.
"Well, if you hold no questions," it continued, an almost human sounding tone to its rich baritone, "then He wishes an audience with you."
"He?"
"Yes, the Holy Father."
Oh right, God. Well, at least I'll get to meet the big man Himself, she mused.
Jo rose to her feet and gazed at the glowing aura. Without warning, the warm luminescence faded away revealing a lithe figure. Now it had Jo's attention.
Spotting her bemused expressing, the light, now clearly male, explained, "I had a talk with Zerachiel and he made intelligible that humans are more willing to follow the orders of an Archangel when they take the form of their own kind."
Jo nodded, dumbfounded. "That makes sense, I guess."
Ramiel gave Jo the best impression of a smile, his russet-colored eyes warming at her acceptance. In a bizarre way, he reminded her of Sammy.
Sammy... Dean. Thinking of the Winchester brothers made her chest burst with sadness as if a cold hand gripped at her very heart. Her lungs ceased to work and, for a split second, she had to voluntarily remind them how to inhale and exhale. Before she could think about the boys again, Ramiel interrupted her thoughts.
"Please, follow after me."
The blonde woman strode over to the Archangel and when he made to walk cleanly off the edge of the hill and into the sky, she hesitated. Ramiel turned around and realizing her uncertainty, held out a hand.
Jo bit her bottom lip but placed her fingers over his palm. Seconds later, they were gone.
-
Why is the room spinning?
Jo felt nauseated, like she had when she was twelve and forced her mother to ride the Ring of Fire with her at the traveling carnival. Never again.
"Joanna Beth Harvelle."
Her head snapped up at her name. Where had it come from? Looking around, Jo realized she was standing at the steps of simple yet elegant looking temple. It was a whitish-gray, standing tall and alone in a field of wildflowers. The sky was clear now, but the warmth still remained. Rotating her head, Jo spotted Ramiel, his white robes seemingly crisp and flawless and oddly out of place in such a natural, Earth-like atmosphere. He gave her a smile (well, she assumed it was smile as it looked like he was in a small amount of pain) and motioned for her to step forward.
Doing so, Jo became aware of another presence. Her cerulean eyes searched the steps for the owner of the voice and what she saw nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
There, seated upon an ivory chair, was a young boy, possibly around ten or eleven. His unruly, auburn hair almost gave His face a haloed appearance and His sharp, azure gaze caused Jo to momentarily lose her sense of balance. Those eyes; it was like the boy held wisdom far too powerful for His age.
"Joanna, or, do you prefer Jo? I heard them call you Jo on Earth."
On Earth? Who is this kid?
"Jo's fine," she replied.
The youth nodded. "Jo, I've called you here to speak with you concerning your rather, shall I say, violent departure from Earth."
Is he another angel? The kid of an angel?
Jo regarded the boy hesitantly.
"Jo, how much of the Bible do you know?"
Well, she suspected that the question would be making an appearance sooner or later.
"Honestly," she began, "not that much. I know about God, the Archangels, Lucifer, Death. Well, I guess I never really met Death or Lucifer, but I did have the pleasure of meeting Castiel and I ran into Raphael on one or two occasions."
As she rattled off what little knowledge she had, she watched the boy nod His head along with her words.
"Ah, Castiel. He did speak a little of you."
Jo stopped rambling and asked, "He did? When?"
"When the four of you were attempting to stifle Lucifer in his endeavor to raise Death. I must offer my condolences to you, however, Jo. I am terribly sorry that events occurred in the order they did. I cannot though, no matter how much I wish it, save every one of my children."
"Your... children?"
He nodded. "Yes, Jo. My children. You are one of my children as are Samuel and Dean Winchester. Just as Ellen and William were my children, so are those who follow my word."
Suddenly, it clicked. His word. His children.
"God?"
The boy grinned. "I am so pleased you figured me out."
What the hell? How is God a little boy?
"Jo," he called, "I see you are confused. Shall I explain?"
"Um, please."
He chuckled. "When you are to watch over the Earth as I do, it becomes tedious staying in the same form. I've learned, from two thousand or so years of practice, that various demographics behave differently with myself. If, for instance, I am to speak with an elderly man or woman, taking the form of such seems to place them at ease. Zerachiel told me of this. For you, I've realized children are whom you speak best with. Thus, I have taken this appearance."
"...I see."
"As we now have that out of the way, there is a reason I wished to see you."
A soft breeze pushed past the trio and to Jo, it felt like someone was wrapping their arms around her in a comforting hug.
"Mom?"
"Ah yes, your mother. That is my first point."
"Point?"
God nodded. "I have a proposition for you, Jo; one you should not take lightly."
Why is God making me a proposition? Is He allowed to do that? Oh wait, He's God; of course He can.
Letting out a heavy breath, God continued, "Jo, I know you are hurting right now. Your spirit yearns for answers that, as of this moment, I cannot give to you. I can, however, try to help ease the pain. I have met with your mother and father moments ago and—"
"You saw Mom and Dad?"
"Please, Jo, do not interrupt me."
Flushing, Jo dropped her gaze, "Right, sorry."
God rose from His chair and took several steps froward so as to be eye-level with the blonde. He reached out and, with a delicate hand, forced her chin upward.
"Do not be embarrassed nor ashamed. You have pleased me, Jo. Though you weren't aware of it at the time, you have done exactly what I have wished of you and for that, I shall reward you."
Her stomach felt queasy at the close proximity between her and God. Though appeared as a child, the knowledge that He had created the Earth and Heaven and was now touching her face, was beyond her grasp.
"As I was saying, I spoke to your parents. They are more than ecstatic to know that you made it here safely. Your father was saddened to know of your arrival but joyed nonetheless. Now, I shall lay the guidelines of proposal for you."
Still stunned, Jo inclined her head and waited for Him to continue.
"You have a choice to make, Jo. This is your reward for doing as I willed; allowing Dean and Sam the chance to end Lucifer's scheme. Know that, no matter the decision you make, I will not become involved with Lucifer and his plans. Those issues have been laid before Castiel and his human companions. Michael, Gabriel, and possibly Zerachiel will be sent down to Earth to assist them. This is your choice, no one else's. Do you understand?"
In a near whisper, Jo answered, "Yes."
God smiled warmly and moved His hand from her face to place them by His sides. "Jo, you can choose to stay here in Heaven with your parents for all of eternity and bask in the warmth of this herein. Should you decided this fate, you will be allowed to sit here in Heaven and never worry about the outcome of your being. However," He stated, "you can make the choice to return to Earth."
Go back? How?
"I can go back?" she asked, her tone incredulous.
"Yes," God replied. "You may return to Earth with the guidance of Ramiel. You may part with your parents and give your farewell before withdrawing from my abode, but, should you stray from my path on Earth, you may have the consequence of joining Lucifer and his Demons in Hell. If you are to choose the first option, you are guaranteed a place at my table. Should you chose otherwise, it is doubtful you will return."
Her mind reeled with the new information. She could go back to Earth, see Sam and Dean and Bobby again or she could stay here and be with her parents. Frustration pulled at her heart and a tear forced its way out and down her cheek.
"I know you are discontent but you must make your decision. I cannot hold this for you forever." God took a step back and made His way to His chair. Sitting down, He awaited Jo's answer.
Mom and Dad, or Dean and Sam. Dean, you selfish bastard, why did you have to make me care so much about you? Jo argued with herself before the image of a grinning Dean materialized. His expressive, emerald eyes glinted with mischief and when he smiled suggestively at her, her heart was set.
"I would like to go back, please."
God offered her a small turn of the lips. "So be it. Ramiel," He addressed the Archangel, "please go and fetch William and Ellen Harvelle."
Ramiel nodded and left in a gentle flash of light.
"God, thank you," Jo murmured.
God cracked a wide smile, the youthfulness of His countenance making Jo feel as if she was staring at a young Dean. "No, Jo. Thank you. You have never gone against my word and you sacrificed yourself to save an entire world, that of which, you only knew maybe thirty or so occupants. I promised that your hard work would not go unnoticed or unrewarded."
Jo was almost in tears; shortly, she would see her parents and then return to her home on Earth. Her body hummed with happiness.
A burst of alerted her to Ramiel's return and with him, her mother and father.
There before her, stood Ellen and William, their eyes wide with disbelief. Her mother made the first move.
"Oh, honey!" she cried, throwing herself forward and gathering her daughter in her arms. Both Harvelle women wept as they clung harder and tighter to one another. William cleared his throat mockingly, his legs propelling him toward his wife and daughter.
Jo's head shot up with the sound of her father's voice. "Dad!"
Ellen opened her other arm and the Harvelle family reunited in what had been almost a decade. The laughed amongst themselves as Jo asked dozens of questions.
"How is it here? Are you happy? What do you do? Have you seen Grandpa or Grandma?"
"Now, now, my little chickadee," William held his hand up, silencing his daughter. "These questions are better left for your return."
Jo, not so startled by her father's direct approach swallowed the lump in throat before peering up at her mother. Ellen nodded her agreement and the three embraced a final time. William leaned down and kissed Jo on the forehead as her mother did the same afterwards.
When they separated, Ellen gave Jo a wild grin, her voice giddy as she said, "And give Dean a slug in the face for me, all right? That little pain in the ass deserves it for all those years of worrying me. Oh, and tell Sammy I said hello."
Laughing, Jo replied, "Yes ma'am."
"I love you, sweetie," Ellen spoke softly.
"Love you too, Mom."
"What am I—chopped liver?" William protested.
Jo threw her arms around her father and pressed her face into his shirt. Yep, he still smelt the same. "I love you, Daddy," her muffled voice proclaimed.
"And I love you, chickadee."
God smiled from His seat as he watched the trio part, tears in all of their eyes.
"Are you ready, Jo?" He asked.
"Yeah, I think so."
God motioned to Ramiel who touched Jo's arm gingerly. She looked up at the Archangel and smiled. The two began their walk forward into a blinding light and, as they took a step inward, Jo turned her head to see her parents standing where she had left them, William's arm around Ellen's waist, their hands moving back and forth as they waved.
Jo wished with all of her heart that the three of them could have returned, but, the thought of seeing the Winchesters again made her happy she was going home.
-
"Dammit, Sammy! Would you leave the radio alone!" Dean bellowed, his right hand leaving the wheel to punch his younger brother in the arm.
"But Dean, I swear REO was on the other station. Go back." Even if Dean refused to acknowledge the horrendously dressed band as Jo's favorite, Sam smiled whenever he heard them. It had been a ritual when Jo was alive; wherever they were, if they could choose the music, it was REO Speedwagon for the win.
"No, Sammy."
"Aw, you're no fun."
"Hey," he declared, "Winchester Rule Number One: Driver chooses the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Capeesh?"
"Yeah, yeah, like I haven't heard that one before."
"Really, beanpole, you want to start his now?"
"I'm not the starting anything, jerk."
"Bitch."
"Bite me."
As they argued up front, Castiel sighed loudly in the back seat of the Impala. It was getting to the point where the angel was ready to throw himself to the mercy of Lucifer and be done with it. Since Jo Harvelle and her mother had died months ago, Dean hadn't been the same and, at his leisure, often took to fighting with Sam. Every time the younger Winchester spoke, Dean attacked.
They were on their way to Oklahoma City to investigate a possible lead as to the downfall of Lucifer and the long, flat land was becoming a blur. Castiel propped his chin on his palm and watched wearily as they passed yet another small farm before it disappeared into the horizon.
Dean was pushing eighty-five, almost nintey when Castiel felt a sense he hadn't predicted ever happening.
"Dean, stop the car!" he shouted though he hadn't meant to.
The car swerved as Dean had jumped. "What the hell, Cas?"
"Stop the car," Castiel said calmly.
"Why?"
"Dean, just do it," Sam impeded.
"Shut it."
"Dean," Castiel commanded, "stop the car."
Sensing that Castiel wasn't joking around, Dean hit the brake and pulled over.
"What?"
Castiel nudged the back of Sam's seat and the brunette opened the door to get out. The angel shoved passed the door and walked forty feet into the wheat field.
"Cas?" Dean called, frustrated that they stopped. He slammed the door of his Impala, pausing to mutter an apology to her (he always insisted it was a 'her' not an 'it') before stalking around to stand on the other side with his brother.
"Holy shit, Cas' gone postal," Dean commented.
"Probably," Sam agreed.
Both Winchesters watched as Castiel took a few more steps inward and waited. Moments later, a bright, almost blinding light exploded in the sky overhead that had Dean covering his brother in case of an angel attack.
When the light faded, he hollered, "You're not getting my brother, you pansy-ass angels!"
"Really now? That's how you address me after not seeing me for—how long has it been Ramiel?"
A male's voice answered, "Six months."
"Right," the female continued, her voice harsh and reprimanding. "Six months, assholes! I've been gone for half a year and this is how you greet me? Inconsiderate sons of bitches." The last portion of her tirade was quieter as she saw Ramiel's face contort in pain at her vocabulary.
Dean's eyes widened and Sam heard his brother's breath hitch. Turning around, the eldest brother scanned the fields and when he spotted what he had been dreaming of for months, his mouth dropped open in an inaudible gasp. Finally, Sam spoke up.
"Jo? J-Jo, is that you?"
"Who else," she replied smugly. The blonde hunter and her Archangel guide meandered through the golden wheat. Ramiel met up with Castiel and the two clapped each other on the shoulder in greet. Jo, however, continued onward. When she was within twenty feet of the brothers, she bolted towards them, her long legs stretching out before she catapulted herself at Sam.
He caught her around the waist as she buried her face in his chest, her arms squeezing the life out of him, or at least, attempting to.
"Oh, Sammy," she cried. Tears trickled down the hunter's face as he embraced her as tightly as he could without fear of breaking her.
"Jo," he whispered.
When they parted, Sam leaned down to kiss her cheek and she did the same. Then Jo turned her attention to Dean.
The man in question was stiff and rigid as he watched his brother hug the one girl he never thought he'd see again; the one girl he'd thought about settling down with. She approached him, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Neither moved for a minute or two but, finally, Dean took a step and they simultaneously reached for one another.
Jo's flung her arms about Dean's neck as his went to her waist. He hoisted her up and her legs wrapped themselves around his hips. Their lips met with such ferocity that Jo was sure their teeth clinked together. Mouths bruised quickly as tongues battled, teeth running over bottom lips. Jo's hands were in Dean's hair and he himself allowed his fingers to run up and down her back, occasionally the tips slipping under her tee to trace her warm skin.
Warm. She was so warm and real and there. Right there with him. She was there, in his arms.
"Jo, Jo, Jo," he murmured, repeating her name like a demonic seal; a mantra that he had been chanting for six months.
"Dean," she hummed back.
The kissing slowed down as Dean delicately brushed his lips against her neck before resting his nose in the crook above her shoulder. He inhaled deeply, letting her scent wash over him like a sunny afternoon, right after a rainstorm.
His heart was lighter than it had ever been and honestly, Dean couldn't have cared if Lucifer chose to show up at that exact moment. That Death-inviting bastard was toast and Dean was damn sure he'd never get the chance to hurt Jo again.
The blonde hunter kissed Dean's face, their tears mingling and content, she laid her cheek atop his head, her arms holding the back of his neck.
"Well, that was pretty damn epic," Sam remarked.
"Don't ruin it," Dean shot back, his voice muffled by Jo's neck.
Jo detached herself from Dean and threw her arms around both men, tugging them together.
"I missed you guys so much."
"Me too," the replied in unison.
The three humans stuck closely together as they walked back to the Impala. Castiel chose that moment to look at Ramiel.
"So, how did He do it?"
"He's God, Castiel, that's all there is to say."
Castiel nodded at one of Ramiel's only attempts at a joke. They said their goodbyes and Ramiel recited a short prayer for Jo and the Winchesters. Then he was gone.
In the car, Sam and Castiel were unceremoniously, though understandably, shoved in the back. Sam shifted next to Castiel, realizing that the poor guy had been sitting back here for almost five hours. Turning to the Archangel, he apologized, "Sorry, Cas. I didn't realize how much this seat sucked."
"It's forgiven," Cas replied.
"Hey," Dean shot, "my baby does not 'suck.'"
Jo laughed and held onto Dean's hand as he hit the gas. Dean peered at Jo and a huge, face-splitting grin stretched across his face.
So many questions buzzed through his brain but he couldn't bring himself to ask a single one. Neither Sam nor Dean asked Jo about her return or the lack of Ellen; they didn't want to know. God, after all, worked in mysterious ways and Dean, knowing that this was a reprieve from their previous history, did not want to screw with the Almighty.
Another time. Not now. Later. I'm too damn happy right now.
Then, Dean heard the all familiar piano'd entrance of REO.
"Dammit."
"Yes!"
"Told you there'd be hell to pay, Dean."
"Isn't Kevin Cronin amazing?"
"Yeah, Deano. Don't you love him?"
"Shut your face, Sammy."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
Silence.
"Oh Dean, my mother told me to give this to you."
Silence again, and then—
"Ow, what the hell, Jo? Why the hell'd you hit me?"
"She said that's what you get for worrying her so much."
"Thanks, Ellen."
"She says you're welcome."
"You totally deserved that, Dean."
"Thin ice, Sammy; thin ice."
Castiel sighed for the fourth time that day. He'd never understand human behavior, no matter how long he observed them. "Ramiel, you have all the luck."
Well, that's the end of that. Leave a review, okay? :D