Summary: "I was never here. I never existed." John/Karen. One Shot.
Spoilers: Supernatural, "In My Time of Dying"; One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"
Disclaimer: One Tree Hill and Supernatural belong to Mark Schwahn and Eric Kripke, respectively as well as The CW and a whole bunch of other persons that are not me.
We were over from the start, intertwined just in time to fall apart.
"So Damn Clever", The Plain White T's
She used to wonder if she'd ever see him again. For a whole year the man that she only knew as John would walk into her café, take a seat at a table in the corner and immerse himself in a book. It was sometime later once their relationship had developed beyond patron and merchant that she realized that it wasn't a book, but a journal.
She'd found it odd that a grown man had kept a journal, but he told her once that it was for his sons -- a keepsake for them once he was gone.
She didn't know much about John except that he had two sons. She made the mistake of asking once where they were and he had told her that he hadn't talked to his youngest since he went off to college. He admitted to checking up on him at school, though, once she had reprimanded him for his behavior. When she'd asked about the other son, he had laughed and joked that hopefully he wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere.
Their infrequent chats prompted her to ask him to stay late one night. Lucas had tagged along with Skills' family up to Charlotte for the weekend and she was alone. He had accepted without protest and had somehow cajoled her to join him for dinner.
They didn't talk much. John was a man of very few words. His actions spoke more, if the phone conversation with his son, Dean, was any indication. His son's safety was of great importance to him, he told her when he explained how much of a rebel Dean was in his line of work. He had never told her what it was exactly that Dean did, though. Not that she expected him to.
John had become a mysterious staple in her life, even though she knew next to nothing about the man. She knew that he had been widowed for more than twenty years yet still wore his wedding ring. It was for that fact alone that Keith had objected to her relationship with John and advised her that a man that still wore his wedding ring after twenty years was not a man that was ready to be in a relationship. She hadn't asked for his opinion nor had she ever expressed any interest in having a romantic relationship with John.
She soon got used to John's guardedness and accepted that there were things about him that she'd never know, including his last name.
Even after their relationship deepened and they began their affair she asked no questions. Questions would only ruin what they had built.
As quickly as their relationship blossomed it fizzled.
One morning John had stormed into the café, telling her that something of extreme urgency had arisen and he had to leave town. She wasn't even sure if he had finished whatever work it was he had been doing in the area. He had led her to the back of the café, kissed her breathless, then pressed a piece of paper into her palm. It was a number scribbled on a Post-It in John's messy scrawl. He explained that if she needed to reach him -- or wanted to reach him -- all she had to do was call.
When she'd asked what was so urgent, he had simply told her that a friend of his had been found murdered and he was needed. It had been plausible so she'd needed no further explanation.
It had driven her crazy wondering about him day after day, but she had never called him. After a while she had forgotten about him and began to move on, which was why it came as such a surprise to see him standing on her porch looking worse for the wear.
They said nothing to one another for long moments, choosing instead to stare at the other and relish the repose. She wanted to smile at him, but all she could do was gape at him in wonderment and shock.
His stubble was much thicker than she remembered. She wasn't sure if he had been without a razor or had grown it purposefully. Nevertheless it was good to see that he was alive and well, even if he wasn't clean shaven.
"You gonna invite me in?"
His words barely touched her ears. She continued to gawk at him, wondering if he was simply a figment of her imagination, summoned to help her deal with the abrupt way that he'd exited her life.
Karen shook her head, snapping out of her reverie. She crossed to the door, pushing it open to him. She stepped aside, unable to take her eyes off of him for fear that he would disappear as quickly and soundly as he had eight months ago.
Slowly, John moved past her into the kitchen, mumbling a thank you. He noted the subtle changes that had been made in his absence. She'd bought a new table. It was much like the table that Mary's mother had in her house when the old bird had been alive. Karen must've been going for the antique look as opposed to the modern look that she had tramped over the remainder of the house.
As his eyes continued to sweep around the kitchen, he tried to ignore the picture on the refrigerator of Karen with another man. He wondered who it was, but he was much too prideful to ask.
Karen took a much needed deep breath before she turned and walked to the middle of the kitchen, asking, "Can I get you…?"
John quickly squashed her hospitality, saying, "I'm good, thanks."
Karen watched as John looked to the back of the house like he expected Lucas or Keith to come out of one of the back rooms. "They're not here," she informed him. His eyes shot to hers as she went on to say, "Keith is living in Charleston now. That's where Lucas is this weekend. He and Nathan went up to visit him."
At least there was no one around to interrupt them. He summoned up a smile, telling her sincerely, "It's good to see you, Karen."
"I wish I could say the same thing about you, John."
He knew that she was going to be mad at him. The last time he had been in Tree Hill had been over eight months ago. His boys had needed him so he had left. He'd had every intention of returning. But then everything with the demon had happened, then the accident and there hadn't been time.
Over the years he and the boys had spent much time in the hospital together. When Dean was eleven he had broken his arm and the doctors had kept him overnight for supervision. He had heard the whispers and saw the looks exchanged between the doctors and nurses. They had all believed that he had ruffed up his own son. It was true that he was hard on his boys, but he wasn't that hard.
Though that night had been grueling, it didn't compare with the week they'd spent in the hospital recently. Sam had sat at his beside while they awaited for Dean to come out of his coma. When that day had finally come, he had stayed with Dean until he had recuperated and then snuck away when Sam had gone to fetch him a cup of coffee.
He wasn't proud of abandoning his boys, but they would be safer without him. When he was around they were in more danger than they were already in and he couldn't risk their lives like that. As much as he hated the idea, he had to distance himself from Dean and Sam.
Perhaps he should've put more thought in his decision to return to Tree Hill, though. He had never weighed the possibility that Karen would be less than pleased with him over his long absence. After all they hadn't been that serious.
"Can you not ride my ass right now?" he asked, wincing at the pain that shot to his arm. He knew he shouldn't have taken off from the hospital when he did.
Sensing his discomfort, she sat him down in a chair. "Are you okay?"
"I'll live. Always do."
"You're not invincible, John." She fell into the seat opposite him, asking, "So you gonna tell me what happened?"
"I went to help my boys and wound up doing more harm than good." He tried to take off his leather jacket, gasping as the pain in his shoulder returned. Nope. He definitely shouldn't have left the hospital.
Karen hopped to her feet, moving to his aid. "Here. Let me help." She slid the jacket down his arms, careful to his injuries. She wasn't sure exactly where he was injured so she kept her movements slow and deliberate. She slung his jacket over the back of his chair, asking, "What happened?"
"We were in a car accident. Hit by a semi."
Karen gasped. "Are your boys alright?"
John sighed. "Dean was touch and go there for a little while. The doctors were pretty confident that he wasn't gonna pull through."
"But he did?" She knew what it was like to sit by your son's bedside, waiting for him to wake up after a horrific car accident. She understood what John had gone through more than anyone.
"He came to a few days ago."
Rising from her chair, Karen crossed to the sink, glancing outside as she said, "And let me guess, you just took off."
"They're better off without me."
She spun around, shouting, "They're your children, John! They need you."
"They're safer if I'm not around. At least this way they'll live." Slowly John rose out of his chair, a difficult task given his condition.
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Maybe they'd live if you were around to be a better father to them. Have you ever thought of that?"
"Everyday since their mother died." He moved toward the refrigerator, taking note of the pictures scattered about, held up by various magnets. Most of them were pictures of Lucas, some of them recent, some of them not. He stared at the picture of her and the other guy, wondering who he was and what importance he was in Karen's life. It wasn't in him to pry into her private life so he turned away, telling her, "It's easy for you to pass judgment on me, Karen. You don't know what my life has been like."
She inched toward him. "So tell me." She was like a dog begging for a bone. She wanted to know something. Anything. She wanted to know him. Was that so wrong?
"It's safer for you if I don't."
Her eyes clouded, her jaw clenching and popping in aggravation. "Then why'd you come back?"
"I've been asking myself that very same question."
"I used to think, hope really, that when you came back that things would be different. I wanted you to open up to me, trust me, but you never did."
He did trust her. Just not with everything. "There are some aspects of my life that I like to keep to myself."
She scoffed. "Yeah, all of it."
John felt his phone vibrating in the pocket of his jeans, but he ignored it. Dean had been calling him for days, wondering why he left and where he was. He'd call his son back when he was ready but now wasn't the time.
"There are things about my life that you wouldn't understand, Karen," he told her finally.
"So tell me, John," she begged. "Help me understand."
He would rather chew off his own arm than to drag Karen into his messy life. He'd gone twenty years without a woman while on his quest to find and extinguish the demon that had taken Mary from him. It was fine for him to be in danger. It was the price he was willing to pay to take that evil son of a bitch down, but it wasn't worth putting Karen's life in danger.
"I should go." He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and turned toward the door. As he reached to push the screen door open, he said, "You've got a good life here, Karen. You'd do better forgetting you ever met me."
Karen knew that arguing with him was futile so she didn't. "And if I can't?"
"You will."
She did her best to blink away the tears. She didn't want the lies to continue, but dammit she didn't want him to go, either. She wiped away the lone tear that trailed down her cheek. "Where will you go now?"
John turned to face her, taking a deep breath when he saw her teary eyes. No woman had ever cried over him and he wasn't going to let Karen start now. He wasn't worth it. "Don't know. I'll find somewhere to go."
"There's nothing wrong in finding somewhere to settle, you know."
Embittered, he averted his gaze, bringing his eyes back to hers as he muttered, "I settled once. I'm not gonna make that mistake again."
"Just know that you can always…," Karen began to say.
John was quick to interrupt her. "No, I can't. I won't. When I leave here I won't be returning. I'm not the kind of man that you make a home with. At one point I was, but I haven't been that man for many, many years." He stared at her for a long moment before murmuring, "You don't want me in your life."
"You don't know what I want."
"Maybe not, but I know what you need and it's not me."
The way the words slipped out of his mouth, she couldn't help but believe they were true and it angered her that he was so self-deprecating. "That decision isn't yours to make, John."
John took a step back toward the door. If they continued talking he was never going to leave. If there was one thing he had learned about Karen during the many months that he'd spent in Tree Hill, it was that the woman loved to argue her points.
"I know it's not, but one of has to walk away here and we both know that it's not gonna be you. Think of Lucas, Karen. You don't want him entangled with me. I mean, look how I treat my boys. I abandon them left and right."
"I'm sure somewhere beneath that stubborn veneer there's a good man."
He leaned back against the doorjamb, scoffing, "You said it yourself that you don't even really know me. How do you know if I'm good or not?"
"Until you show me differently I'm going to believe that you're good."
John looked at the floor, softly whispering, "You're much too good a woman to be tangled up with me. Believe me that it's better this way." John kicked open the screen door and waltzed out onto the porch.
He was a few yards away from his truck when he heard her say, "Better for who, John?"
He spun to face her, shaking his head as he spat, "What the hell are you doing? Get back in the house."
Karen crossed the space between them, folding her arms across her chest. "If you have to go, I understand." The thought of never seeing him again took hold of her, prompting her to launch herself into his arms. She breathed him in all sweat and outdoors and man just like she remembered.
John tightened his arms around her, stealing this one moment for himself. "I have to go." He unhooked her arms from his neck, pushing her away, but not forcefully. Never with her. "You'll find someone, Karen. Maybe you already have."
"There's only be you, John."
He licked his lips, disagreeing with a slow shake of his head. "No. There never was, Karen. You're forgetting that. I was never here. I never existed." Her tears were flowing freely by that point and John had the desire to kick his own self in the ass for the way that he was talking to her, for the way that he was treating her. He wanted her to forget about the months that they spent together and how easily she had become engrained in his life and wormed her way into his heart. The latter he would keep to himself, though. No need in damaging her any more than she already was.
Knowing that it was wrong and he'd probably regret it once he left, he grabbed her arms and pulled her into his arms. He sought out her lips, tasting the salt of her tears as their tongues collided. He held her tight against him, not yet ready to let go and walk away.
Images danced in his head of their first meeting, the first time they made love, mixing with the unhappy moments of him leaving eight months ago to this night when he came to give her a proper goodbye.
The kiss ended slowly, neither of them wanting to face the inevitable. But they both knew that they had to. He had to leave and she had to let him.
John slid out of Karen's arms and began the trek to his truck. He was reaching for the door handle when Karen called out, "John?" He looked at her questioning her motive as she asked, "Your last name? It doesn't mean much at this point, but I'd just like to know."
"Winchester."
Karen repeated the name aloud, almost doubting its validity. John Winchester. It definitely fit. She watched him climb into his monster of a truck, mouthing a thank you to him after he had settled behind the wheel.
John gunned the engine, shifted the car into gear and gave her one last smile before he took off, disappearing down the dark street and out of her life, this time for good.