Can't Fight This Feeling
"Can't believe I'm doing this." Dean grumbled for the hundredth time.
Jo shot him a sour look and crossed her arms over her chest, sitting back in the passenger seat of the Impala. The older Winchester's complaining was getting on her nerves. They had just recently reunited after over two years of not a single phone call, and they were already reigniting that flame of annoyance that always seemed to revolve around them.
"Suck it up, bucko," She responded with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, you're the one who called me." She vividly remembered the ringing of her phone at four-thirty in the morning two days ago...
The irritating, consistent buzz of her cell phone interrupted the warm, comforting silence of sleep as Jo gradually surfaced to consciousness. She came to her senses completely and pulled herself into a sitting position.
Before answering her phone, she checked to see if her mother was still asleep. It slightly annoyed her, the fact that Ellen had to be with her twenty four-seven. Jo was a full-fledged hunter now, she didn't need a chaperone. But, still...it was nice knowing that she had a companion that cared about her well-being.
Jo accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Jo?" She was greeted by a familiar voice on the other end of the line. "Is that you?"
"Dean? Yeah. It's me." She cast a glance at the digital clock on the bedside table and recoiled as she caught sight of the time. "What the hell are you doing calling me at four-thirty in the morning?"
"Oh. Sorry...it's six-thirty here. EST zone, I'm in Ohio. You're in Colorado, right?"
"Yeah." Jo replied shortly, unforgiving. "What do you want, Dean? My mom and I are working a pretty damn exhausting case and you of all people should know that hunters have to catch all the sleep they can get."
"I know, Jo." Dean answered. "I just...wanted to ask you something."
"And what's that?" She inquired.
"Well, uh...Sam and I...we kind of split up. Personal problems, you know? And I was wondering if you'd wanna...I don't know...work a case with me?" Dean's voice was hesitant, and Jo couldn't blame him.
"You're asking for my help?" Jo inquired, incredulous. "Dean, last time we worked a case together, it was a wonder we didn't murder each other. And that was when Sam was with us."
"Yeah, well...it's different now, Jo," Dean admitted quietly. "You're different, I'm different...we can work together now." His voice suggested he didn't believe his own words, but Jo decided not to mention that to him.
"I don't know, Dean..." Jo sighed. "My mom and I—"
"You're hunting something now, too. I realize that." Dean said. "But I really need a partner here."
"What're you hunting that you can't handle?" Jo asked, her tone sharp.
"It's not really that I can't handle it, but...with Sammy gone, I'm kind of out of my comfort zone." Dean mumbled, sounding rather ashamed of himself. "Please, Jo, if you can get away, just for a couple of days."
"What're you hunting?" She repeated softly, her voice gentler than before. She understood what it was like to be hunting alone...even if the creature was an easy kill, you wouldn't want to do it by yourself. She'd been in the same situation when she'd left her mom after learning about how her father died.
"Not sure yet," Dean answered. "It's not that I can't handle it, Jo…I just…"
"I know." Jo responded. She cast another glance at her sleeping mother, biting her lip. "I'll be right there. What town you in?" She scrubbed a hand down her face, immediately regretting her words. Ellen would be pissed off when she realized that she had left.
"Lancaster." Dean replied quickly. "At the Lancaster Motel. Skeevy place, but it's all I could afford."
"Oh, I could already tell it was skeevy by the genius name," Jo remarked, smirking. "Just stay where you are...it'll take me a while to drive out to you. We're in some hellhole called Castle Rock. Pretty crappy place, I'll be glad to get out of it. What room you in at your motel?"
"15," Dean answered. "Honestly, Jo, thanks for this. I know I'm being a whiny bitch."
"You're not," Jo promised, smiling to herself. "Trust me. I'll be there as soon as I can." The line clicked and went dead on Dean's end, but Jo stayed with the phone pressed to her ear for a moment or two longer.
For once, Dean had called her.
Dean was asleep. He'd been running herself to the ground apparently since he took this case. Jo had insisted that he let her drive for an hour or two, and it'd proven difficult to convince the older Winchester to do just that.
He loved his car to death.
But finally, he'd relented. She hadn't expected him to fall asleep, but he was passed out just in ten minutes of handing over the wheel to Jo.
Jo glanced over at him, a small smile on her lips. He'd been out for about an hour and a half now, and was leaning heavily against the passenger door, snoring softly.
They were heading to the last sign of the unknown creature. It had mysteriously vanished from Lancaster, Ohio, after the disappearances of two victims that were totally unrelated. Now another woman from a town just a few hours out from Lancaster had been found dead, along with the two previously taken.
Jo figured they'd settle in the next seedy motel room before checking out the crime scene. So far, she'd gotten three phone calls from Ellen, which she had allowed to go to voicemail.
Her phone went off again, loud in comparison to the silence that had previously ensued. Jo spotted her mother's name on the ID, and she didn't touch it. She shot a glance at Dean, who stirred at the noise, but didn't wake. He shifted so that he sat forward in the passenger seat instead of leaning against the window. His chin dropped towards his chest and his breathing evened out again.
Jo sighed and glanced at the clock. They were only about thirty minutes away. She decided to let him sleep for the remainder of the time. Besides, if she woke him now, they would end up bickering the rest of the way.
She thought too soon. Dean's head drew lower and lower towards his chest until he finally woke himself up with a jerk as he almost fell forward. He blinked multiple times, knitting his brows a couple times.
"You okay there?" Jo asked after a moment, shooting a glance at him with a smile. His green eyes met hers and he returned it, to her surprise. She rarely saw him smile.
She liked it.
"Yeah," He answered. "Yeah, I'm good. We far?"
"About a half hour away," Jo replied, turning her eyes back to the road in the front of her. "Sit tight."
"Room for two." Dean said while sliding one of his many fake credit cards across the counter. The middle-aged woman behind the old-fashioned desktop accepted it.
"Okay, Mr. Ford…" She studied the two of them. "One king, I assume?"
Jo smirked as his shoulders tensed and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Two queens, please." He shot a glare back at Jo and she gave him an innocent shrug.
"Believe it or not, Sam and I have gotten the same question." Dean muttered to her as they made their way towards their room. Jo giggled under her breath but said nothing in response.
Once they reached their room, number 666, which Jo found rather amusing, Dean threw his duffel onto the bed nearest to the door. "Okay. I'll check out the crime scene, you head to the morgue?"
Jo shut her jaw and nodded. She should've figured he'd take charge. Besides, his plan was better than hers.
"Peachy, see you tonight."
Then he was gone.
"Okay, then." Jo said long after he'd left. "Stick me with the dead bodies, thanks, Dean."
"Agent Page, FBI," Dean showed off his phony badge that the detective barely shot a glance at before nodding. "Can I have a look around?"
"Be my guest. Detective Morgan, I'll get you up to speed." He stuck out his hand and Dean shook it. He then began to speak, but Dean cut him off.
"No need, I'm aware of the situation."
Detective Morgan nodded, seeming slightly relieved. "Very well. We're done here, so you have the place. Knock yourself out."
"Thank you, Detective." Before Dean could say another word, the remainder of police cleared out of the building and he was alone. Dean pulled out the EMF meter from his pocket and began scouting the place.
His results came back with nothing.
"Damn it," He grumbled to himself, stowing away the meter. This time he went over the entirety of the warehouse with the precision of a real FBI agent, this time looking with his eyes instead of EMF. His gaze scanned across the nearest dark, damp corner, and…
That's when he saw it.
A dried, shriveled-up IV bag. The color of a rusted nail. He bent to retrieve it, closing his eyes as memories rushed through his brain…
Mom, alive and well. Sam, engaged to Jess. A gorgeous woman named Carmen who loved him unconditionally. Those were the good recollections, however false they proved to be. It was the bad memories that came along with them that set Dean's teeth on edge…
His arms, bound tightly at the wrist, hanging above his head. A needle in his skin, slowly but surely stealing the blood from his veins. His eyes half-closed and his body dangling limply as a fake reality played within his mind.
Dean vividly remembered the tattooed face and glowing blue eyes that had been responsible for his previous capture. A Djinn…they were dealing with a Djinn.
His cell phone rang. Dean dug into his pocket and slapped it to his ear. "Hello?"
"Dean." Jo's voice sounded from the other end of the line. "I'm at the morgue, just looked at the bodies. All three victims had lost more than half of their blood."
"I know, Jo." Dean cut straight to the chase. "We're dealing with Djinn."
"A what now?"
"They're like genies, except instead of granting your wishes, they only make you think they have. Everything is in your head. In reality, you're rotting in some hellhole while the Djinn feasts on your blood."
"You seem to know a lot on the subject." Jo remarked after a moment.
"Yeah, well, I'm speaking from experience." Before Jo could get another word in, a scraping noise sounded. Dean's head shot up and his the hand holding the phone to his ear lowered slowly.
"Dean?"
He heard Jo's voice on the other end of the line. He once more slapped his cell to his ear. "I'll call you back." He muttered before cutting off the conversation. Dean cautiously trekked in the direction of the noise, carefully wielding his gun.
His cell's ringtone sounded at the exact moment he was attacked from behind.
His gun clattered to the ground and skidded out of reach. Dean was forced up against the nearest wall and his head slammed hard against the decaying wood. The last thing he saw before his vision faded was a flickering luminous blue light. It momentarily mesmerized him before the world spun and went black.
"This is Dean Winchester, leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone."
"Dammit, Dean." Jo slammed her phone down and clutched her head as Dean's voicemail once again reached her ears. It was currently seven in the evening, and Dean still hadn't returned from the crime scene. Something was wrong, she knew it.
So she only had one choice…to go after him.
"Dean."
His eyebrows furrowed. He knew that voice, but he just couldn't place it.
"DEAN. C'mon, wake up."
Was that…? Dean slowly opened his eyes. They were met with a familiar brown gaze that stared down at him with amusement. "…Jo?" Dean mumbled, disoriented.
"Hey, there, sleepyhead. About time you woke up. It's almost nine."
"What—what're you talking about?" Dean struggled into a sitting position, finding himself in a large white bed. None other than Jo Harvelle was curled up at his side, leaning against the headboard.
"What, you planning to sleep all day?" She teased, lightly tapping his nose. He merely blinked with confusion. "Well, I gotta go soon," Jo said after a moment, sliding off of the bed. "My shift starts at nine-thirty."
"Wait…wait, Jo. What the hell are you talking about?" Dean repeated. "Where…where are we? What happened? Last I remember I was at the crime scene…"
Jo gave him a concerned look. "Oh, man. Did you really only have one beer last night after work?"
Dean stuttered for words, trying to piece together everything that was being thrown at him into something understandable.
Jo pulled on a shirt that looked suspiciously like scrubs over her tank top. Dean simply watched her dress with a dazed look on his face. Once she was finished, she climbed back onto the bed to give him a quick peck on the lips that startled him.
When they parted, she spotted the agitated look on his face. She frowned worriedly, and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. "You feeling okay?" He answered with a half-hearted shrug and she moved her hand so it cradled his cheek. "Well, if you don't, maybe you should call in sick. I'll be home around six."
Jo pulled his head towards her and kissed the top of it. It was such a casual movement that it surprised Dean. Her fingers momentarily stroked his hair before she pulled away. "There's eggs on the stove if you're hungry. I'll see you later."
She was halfway out the door before she looked back at him, her golden hair framing the genuine smile on her face. "Hey. I love you."
Dean was briefly shocked, but composed himself. "Me too." He managed to respond before she disappeared. His head fell back against the headboard the minute she was out of sight.
"What the HELL?" He muttered to himself.
The crime scene was vacant when Jo finally arrived after trekking there on foot. But Dean's Impala was parked outside, which meant that he was still there. He would never abandon his precious Baby, no matter what.
The minute Jo yanked open the heavy door of the warehouse, she was met with utter darkness and a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something was wrong.
"Dean?"
No response. Well, it had been worth a shot. She traipsed deeper into the building, her senses on alert and her fingers clutching the hilt of her Glock. Every noise that sounded had her attention immediately.
It didn't take her long to find him.
Jo would've been surprised by how easy it had been if she wasn't so overcome with shock by his appearance. He hung limply, his arms suspended above him, bound at the wrist. The toes of his boots brushed the floor.
"Oh, Dean…" She whispered, breathless. Jo rushed up to him and she faltered, staring into his half-open eyes. She jostled his shoulders desperately. "Dean. Wake up, dammit. Wake up!" He offered no response, and she tried again.
"All right." Jo huffed. "I'm just gonna have to carry you."
She removed the tube connected to the blood bag from his neck. He let out a labored breath, and his eyes slipped all the way shut. Jo furrowed her brow and pulled her knife from her belt.
"Okay, Dean. Let's get out of here."
"You feeling better now?"
"Mm. A lot." Dean answered clearly this time, adjusted to the situation. He knew what was happening, however crazy it proved to be. "A day off really helped."
"Good. I'm glad." Jo joined him on the sofa and slipped her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder. He turned his face towards hers and surprised her with a long kiss on the lips. Her eyebrows raised and she smiled with her mouth still pressed against his.
When he pulled away, she let out a breathy laugh. "What was that for?"
"Nothing, just…" Truthfully, Dean didn't have a good answer. He wasn't sure what had urged him to do that. Struggling for words, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You're beautiful."
Jo paused, smirking. "Okay, what's the catch?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, so there isn't a catch?" Dean shrugged in response and she took his face in her hands. "Dean Winchester, you are the best man I know." Her lips pressed against his once more and this time, Dean realized something…
He enjoyed it.
The minute Jo's knife sliced completely through the ropes binding Dean's wrists, he toppled to the floor in an unconscious heap. However, the minute he hit the ground, he let out a strangled groan.
But Jo didn't even had a chance to go to him. She felt a sudden strong force from behind her, which caused her to stumble forward and collapse face-first onto the ground. Jo had barely thought through her next move before she was scrambling to her feet and bolting out the doors of the warehouse.
Jo sprinted at full speed to the trunk of the Impala, praying that Dean had left it unlocked. Fortunately, he did, and she fumbled through his supplies. Silver and lamb's blood, silver and lamb's blood. She wasn't an imbecile, she'd made sure to do her research on Djinns while waiting for Dean.
If he and Sam had dealt with one before, then they were sure to have the proper weapons. She guessed right. Soon enough, she came across a jar labeled 'lamb's blood' and seized one of their many silver knives.
As Jo once more entered the building, the first thing she caught sight of was the bald, heavily-tattooed head of the Djinn as he leaned over Dean, who still lay half-awake on the ground.
"Sleep…" She heard the Djinn's whispered word. Dean's eyes glazed over and he went slack. As the Djinn lifted the hunter's catatonic form and once again began to bind his wrists, Jo cautiously crept up behind him, sure to stay completely noiseless.
The second before the Djinn could insert the tube connected to the blood bag into Dean's exposed neck, Jo lunged at him from behind and stabbed the blood-soaked knife straight through his throat. The Djinn's body crumpled to the ground at her feet.
Swiftly, Jo undid the ropes around Dean's wrists, and he, too, subsided to the floor. He was no longer in a dazed state, living within his mind. He was now simply unconscious, as far as Jo could see.
She knelt by his side and put a hand on his shoulder. "Dean. Hey, Dean." His brows furrowed, then relaxed. "Dean." She urged, tentatively putting a hand on his cheek. "Wake up." His head turned to the side as he gradually stirred, and she smiled down at him as his eyes finally opened. "Hey, you."
Dean let out a groan and she helped him into a sitting position, supporting him with her hand on the small of his back. "How do you feel?"
"Where…where am I?"
"Well, isn't that a cliche thing to say after waking up?" Jo teased. "We're at the crime scene…what do you remember?"
"Found an IV bag with dried blood…you called me…then nothing." It seemed as if he was unwilling to meet her gaze. "What happened?"
"Well, the Djinn got to you. I came after you didn't answer your cell. Thankfully you happened to have a jar of lamb's blood and a silver knife." She gestured to the limp corpse lying just inches away from where Dean sat.
He ran a hand wearily over his face. "Well, then I owe you. Big time. I could've died." Jo noticed that he seemed to be having trouble meeting her gaze. She decided not to mention it.
"Oh, don't say that," Jo countered, helping him to his feet. "You and Sam save each other's bacon multiple times a week. You don't owe me anything."
"That's different," Dean protested. "Sam and I—we're family. We're pretty much required to look out for each other. You and I—"
Jo cut him off. "We're family too." He shut his mouth, a smile playing on the edges of his lips as their eyes finally met. "Now…" Jo handed over the blood-soaked knife to Dean.
"Let's get outta here."
"So?"
Dean looked over at her from the driver's seat of the Impala with a crease between his brows. "So…what?"
"What did you see?" Jo pressed. "What false reality did the Djinn have playing through your brain?" When he didn't answer, she continued with humor in her tone. "Did it consist of…money? Hot girls? Bacon cheeseburgers? Pie?"
Dean waved his hand in an attempt to stop her. "It was what you'd expect, Jo. Just…you know, a normal life. Exactly like last time."
Jo smiled. "Hot wife, yes?" Dean's fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard they turned white. The grin faded from Jo's face and she watched him with concern. "Dean? What's wrong?"
"Let's just stop talking about it." Dean spat out, his eyes focused intently on the road. Contempt was evident in his voice. That tone probably worked for him most of the time. But not with Jo.
"No." She replied stubbornly. "Tell me what you're being so protective about. What, was your wife a hooker or someth—"
"It was you, Jo." Those words left Dean's mouth so quickly that Jo could hardly register them as they were spoken. There was a long silence where she simply sat there, pondering what she had just heard.
After a time had passed, she finally replied. "You wished…to be with me?"
"I don't know." Dean answered, defensive. "Just—never mind. It was a bad idea to even say anything. Forget about it."
"Pull over."
"What?"
"Pull. Over."
Confused, Dean obeyed. The minute he had the car in park, Jo lunged at him. Before he could even realize what was happening, her lips were crashing into his. Her hands cradled his face and eventually moved to the back of his neck, her fingers running through his hair.
It took him a moment to recover from his initial shock, but eventually he responded to her actions, his hands also slipping through her hair. Their lips only parted from each other's when they had to stop for breath. They would then continue right from where they left off.
Afterwards, Jo spoke. "So, what do you think, Dean Winchester?"
"I think I like you, Jo Harvelle."