Note: Not sticking to canon, set around season 2-5 story arc, familiar characters but out of the cannon time line. Tried to keep it feeling authentic despite this and hopefully it stands up okay. Previously partly published in 2009 as Dark Times but enough changes made and now completed so felt I could re name and re publish. Hope that's okay.
Chapter One
The phone made him jump. It was in his chest pocket so he wouldn't miss a call from Sam and it was now vibrating in sync with the Zeppelin track.
Ipod still blaring, Dean put down the empty take-out coffee beaker full of cigarette butts and pulled out his headphones.
"What?" he said rudely, his face frowning. He gets one God-damn minute to chill out and someone already wants something. No caller ID either.
"It's Jo, Dean." With the frown still on his face, Dean got up from the bed. He thought about how Sam was gonna nag when he got back 'cos the room stank of stale tobacco. He opened the window a little. "Jo. Harvelle…?" The voice sounded pissed at his lack of recognition and response.
"Yeah, Jo, I know - why are you calling me?" Dean looked out the motel window and checked the car park. Sam had taken the Impala to the Red Bridge Road industrial estate earlier wanting to check on some guy. According to the Police radio, a man reported seeing a 'tattooed weirdo' stalking the place and Sam had gotten it into his head that a Djinn was in town. He'd taken Bobby so Dean wasn't too worried. Yet.
There was silence on the other end of the phone but Dean could still hear her breathing. "Jo?"
"It's my mom, Dean. She…..she's dead. Last night. Shot. In the head. For her fucking purse. Some piece of shit killed my mom for her purse."
He could hear her choking back, voice almost failing, trying to keep it together. Dean sat back down on the bed running his hand through his cropped hair. Ellen was tough, old school. She'd been through a hell of a lot. She didn't deserve to go down like that. Not like that.
"We're in Springfield, Illinois. Bobby's here." Dean wasn't sure what it was she wanted him to say. They'd seen each other maybe twice in the past three years and he could only think that maybe she needed to be with the old man. Bobby and Ellen had history.
She had no one else now, he figured.
"I…" Jo said, pausing. "Can I come over in the morning?"
"Maybush Motel, room 16. We're headed out tomorrow, but…" he really wasn't sure this was such a good idea.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"I…"
"I know, Jo. Look, it's okay. Just….I'll see you in the morning." Dean hung up and turned off the music still playing in the background, like a movie track. He sighed heavily, eyes closing. Jesus. Poor Ellen.
But as selfish as he knew it was, he really didn't need this shit right now. He was truly sorry about Ellen, she was a good hunter and a smart lady, but the thought of Jo coming here with her grief was not something he wanted to have to deal with. Too much had happened, too much was going on around them. This time was for the survivors, for those who were still here and still fighting.
And then there was Sam to worry about. There was always Sam to worry about.
Besides, it was just a little too close for comfort. Losing a parent? He could write a book about it. Way too close to home.
The door clicked open and Bobby came in with a bucket of chicken and some beers under his arm.
"Thought you'd be chompin' at the bit by now," he said putting them on the table and taking off his jacket. He stopped to look at Dean. "What's gotten up your ass?"
Shit. This is exactly why he wished Jo hadn't called here. Already it had started, the angsty crap. And who was going to have to deal with it? Him. "Got some news, Bobby. Jo called. It's Ellen."
Sam walked in and sat down on the bed, taking off his shoes. "What's going on?"
"Jo's coming here tomorrow. Ellen was shot, robbed, last night. She didn't make it Bobby, I'm sorry."
Bobby looked stunned for a moment, not moving. Then he turned, picked his jacket back up and walked out, slamming the door.
"Jesus." Dean looked at Sam. "He's gonna take this hard."
"What happened?" Sam moved over to his lap top on the table, thinking somehow he would be able to make more sense of it if he could look something up.
Dean shrugged. "Jo just said she got robbed. Don't know any more details, didn't ask."
Sam looked confused. "You don't sound all that happy about her coming here. Hey – why is she coming here?"
"Cos Bobby's all she has now, I guess." He sighed. "You getting anything?" Sam started trailing through the online news stories looking for something to start joining up the bits of information they already had. This is how he dealt with things.
"God. Yeah, local news reporting the point blank shooting of a woman, 48, found with a fatal gun shot wound to her temple. 17 year old been arrested, found with her purse…."
"Don't tell me - with like, ten fucking dollars or something?" Dean shook his head. "That's just screwed up, man."
Sam closed the lap top respectfully. "Like you always say Dean, it's people who are hardest to figure. Jo must be in a bad way." Dean moved to the kitchen area and got out two chipped coffee mugs. He waved a half empty bottle of whisky at Sam who nodded. They sat opposite each other at the table & Dean pushed the drink towards his brother, lighting up a cigarette. Figured Sam wouldn't moan under the circumstances. He drank his in one swig and poured another. Down the hatch.
"Sometimes…..I just wanna be next, you know? Just so I don't have to see anybody else buy it. I'm so sick of this, Sam." He poured another but this time just sat staring into it. Sam looked at him fondly. Dean took everything hard these days. Burnt out, used up, finished.
"What d' you think Bobby will do?" He deliberately ignored Dean's death wish. Heard it so many times now.
"Won't see him for a while, is my guess. Doesn't exactly go in for 'group hugs'. Not sure Jo's gonna find it much help being here if Bobby's split."
"Kinda strange she wants to come here though. I mean, we're not exactly close." Dean studied his brothers face.
"You still feel weird round her since the possession, don't you?" he smirked, remembering how amused he'd been that Sam had allowed Meg to invade him like that.
"Dude, you totally had a chick inside you for like, a week - that's just naughty!"
Sam shook his head "Well wouldn't you? I mean, come on Dean, I nearly…I could have…well, you know." Sam got up, smoke starting to sting his eyes.
"But it wasn't you Sam. Jo of all people gets that. Besides, nothing happened." Dean was always curious why Sammy felt so bad about that night. Sure, it'd been bad but not that bad.
He'd done a hell of a lot worse since.
"I just don't get why she's coming here, is all. And why' d she call you? Why not Bobby?" Dean considered this. Sam had a point. If it was Bobby she wanted to see, why'd she not just call him? He stubbed out his smoke and swallowed the last of his drink.
"Gotta take a leak," he said moving across the room. "Oh, and if she wants to stay here, you can bunk up with her 'cos I, my brother, am not." He noticed a look come across Sam's face. He knew that look. "Hey - are you sweet on her or something?"
Sam's face immediately flushed. "Fuck off Dean," he said trying unsuccessfully to move out of his eyeline.
"Holy shit - that's it isn't it? You've got the hots for her!" Dean couldn't believe he hadn't figured this out before now.
"Right. And that's just hilarious to you, isn't it Dean? Because this is exactly the time we should be making jokes about Jo. Her mom's just been murdered, dude!" Sam stood up, hands on hips, trying hard to look disgusted.
Dean laughed loudly and poked his brother in the stomach. "I found you out, little brother!" He continued to laugh as he reached the bathroom, just in time to duck Sam's shoe as it flew towards him.
"Screw you,dude," Sam said, embarrassed.
Dean smiled devilishly. "Bitch!" he said slamming the bathroom door.
"Jerk!"
Sam flopped onto the bed, head in hands, as he heard Dean continue to laugh through the door.
Asshole.