Disclaimer: I am a devoted servant of the Great Kripke and would never, ever steal anything he's ever created. I'm just having a little bit of fun.
(Author's Note): Old timer when it comes to the show and reading the fics, but I've never really wanted to write one before now. If I do another one or not depends on the reception, I guess. Not really sure what else I'd write about.
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Seeing Him Again
She's staring at him for the first time in two-and-a-half years, and he looks almost the same.
Jo's got her forearm held in a viselike grip, courtesy of her mother. She always knew her mom could take down a linebacker if she was gunning for it, but it's a good reminder. They share a quick look of mutual apology; Ellen's feeling sorry she had to slap Jo 'round the head, and Jo's upset she thought her mom was a demon when she wasn't. Nobody likes to call their mom a "black-eyed bitch," even on a bad day.
But, like most jobs, "I'm sorry" takes a backseat to saving the world, so it's just a quick look and then Rufus comes in and… there he is.
Obviously he would be here if Sam was here, and she'd just been shoving salt down his throat and slapping him around with Rufus. There's a twinge of regret as Jo puts two and two together to realize that, unlike the last time they crossed paths, the younger brother was not possessed.
Seeing him here, though, it brings back everything she's been trying to forget. Jo has met a lot of hunters, especially before she hit the road, but none of them were quite like Dean Winchester. Perhaps it's because she couldn't imagine someone who could pull off anguished and über-cocky simultaneously before she met him.
"Are we all on the same page?" he asks, looking directly at Ellen.
Jo wishes she could say something snappish, give him something to remember her by, but she's still reeling from the double whammy of Apocalypse Now and his presence.
"Yeah," is Ellen's no-nonsense reply.
"Good," says Dean. "Hi, Jo."
Really? Just… two syllables spared for her as an afterthought, and out of the two one's her name and the other's a greeting. Jo feels a bit disgusted with him, but forces herself to remember that he is, after all, a douche bag.
Hell, it's always easier hating the first guy you fall in love with (only guy) than admitting said douche bag stomped on your heart.
Dean rushes upstairs, because Sam is and always will be his number one priority.
Jo doesn't blame him; she'd punch his lights out if it meant helping her mother in a second. But, you know, some things are irrepressibly predictable.
"Here, guard the back," Rufus says gruffly, thrusting a rifle into her hands.
She takes it, holds it across her chest, and heads to the back door. Funny how the first time she met Dean it was with a rifle in her hands, and now… well, maybe it is the last time. Or maybe not. Life's funny that way.
There's a boy standing at the door already, name of Lance. He's a good-looking guy, twenty-one, brown hair and dimples.
He's been eyeing her while Rufus was looking the other way, and Jo's been ogling right back.
"Hey, there," he drawls. "Ready to get those demons sent back to hell?"
"They aren't demons," she says firmly, deftly lifting all the bullets from the rifle's chamber. "They're just people."
"That's not what the big guy's been saying," Lance says, confused. "I mean, look at their eyes, goddammit –"
"It's not demons," she repeats. Before he knows what's happening, she grabs his pistol and unloads the clip. "It's something a hell of a lot worse, and it's messing with our heads so we all kill each other."
Lance looks scandalized as she returns the gun to his hand, which she taught him how to use just last night. "What the hell kind of thing could do that?"
She gives him the Ellen look – or, don't-mess-with-me-you-dumbass. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He pouts slightly but doesn't argue.
It doesn't escape her notice that he's got the most sensuous lips she's ever seen. Well, second-most, but Dean shouldn't count anyway.
Perhaps it's wrong that she's eyeing a guy while doing a job, especially one who's younger than her and doesn't even know the difference between a pistol and a revolver. Jo just knows that the shock of seeing Dean again, after all this time, is gonna do her a number unless she finds a distraction.
"They think we're the demons," she informs him, all business. "So, they're gonna come tryin' to shoot us dead. If they come in, whack 'em with the butt of your pistol near the temple. Don't hit too hard, though; we don't wanna hurt 'em permanently."
Lance is looking at her like she's crazy.
"What?" she asks him, snappish.
"It's just…" he shuffles uncomfortably. "You're really intense."
"Just think of me as your own, private, grown-up Buffy," says Jo, because it's the hunter pick-up line she gets the most.
Say, you're something like the hunters' very own Buffy. D'you play nice with other vampire hunters?
You're a hunter? But you're so pretty and little! You remind me of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Damn, she was fine, too. And she hooked up nice on the show.
Buffy stakes her vampires, but how about you and me get a room so I can stake you instead?
"Right," Lance nods, looking completely thrown. "Buffy. Are there vampires, too?"
She's going to answer that later.
The gunfire goes off, but it's on the other end of the house. Lance seems like he's about to shit himself, and then maybe piss as a second thought.
Jo, though, she's feeling it. There's that rush of adrenaline she gets every time, and it feels like she's about to jump her skin. She needs to do some serious ass-kicking and knock out any idiot who's likely to come her way.
But sadly, the only thing that comes her way is Sam and Dean, tearing through the door like their asses are on fire and out to catch the bad guy.
Jo's breath catches in her throat, and she feels like a pathetic excuse for a woman of twenty-seven. He shouldn't have this effect on her after all the months she spent going through his list of faults one by one and forcing herself to hate his guts.
Good thing Lance doesn't suspect a thing. She's hoping to get laid tonight.
Another five minutes, and all that's happened is a couple of idiots running through the back door like kids pretending to be cops. Jo took them out with a whack to the head each, and Lance is still staring at her like she's Supergirl. Or Buffy. Bit of a toss-up really.
"Jo, honey," her mom says from behind her. "It's over now."
She turns and smiles at Ellen. "And I didn't even get to do my own exorcism."
Her mother looks affronted. "Come out front and help me pull a bullet out," she demands, and turns on her heel.
"My cue," Jo says apologetically to Lance. "Unless field med doesn't make you vomit."
"I'm down with it," he says, looking boyishly eager.
"Right. You can watch if you're up for it," she tells him, and moves purposefully to the front lawn of the house. Halfway through the place and it's obvious there was a trigger-happy battle. Broken glass, china, holes in weird places.
She hasn't really seen something on this grand a scale.
Ellen's holding up a priest, and it's vaguely ironic that a priest got shoot in a "war" featuring demons. Take one for the heavenly team, and all that.
Jo's in her element. The last time she saw Dean, there was a shoulder-wound patch-up job, and she couldn't bring herself to be surprised it'd happened again. She's half-expecting H. H. Holmes to show up somewhere for a little reunion.
"Bite down on this," says Ellen, holding out a piece of leather.
Together, the two women take the sleeve and tear it off, and Ellen goes one step further by splitting up the shoulder seam.
"Lance, go grab some whiskey and a couple towels," orders Jo, bending down and examining the entry wound. The bullet's still hanging out, so she's gonna have to fish it out with some tweezers and a hook.
She's so immune to the smell of hot blood that it takes a minute for her to notice the gagging young woman on her right.
"Er, I need water, a needle and some thread," she tells the woman. Best if she's hurling it be somewhere else.
Lance is back, and Jo grabs the whiskey, pouring it directly onto the oozing hole.
The priest yelps, and she remembers that he's probably never gone through this sort of thing before.
"Sorry," she says awkwardly.
Rufus appears at her shoulder and hands her those tweezers she wanted. Now comes the tricky part. Jo fishes around inside this guy's shoulder as carefully as she can, and it's good to know that the sucker didn't get too deep when she does find it.
She's saying things like, "okay now," and "hang on," because it's habit for her to reassure whatever person is in her care.
Her hand is totally still, and Jo's completely focused on pulling the bastard out. The poor priest is biting down on that leather and sweat's pouring off his face, and he's whimpering. Finally, she's got it into open air, and drops it into a small towel.
The other one she drenches with more whiskey and starts cleaning around the wound.
"Worst part's over," she whispers.
Jo catches Ellen's eye and is surprised to find her mom looking proud. Usually Ellen's got a face of aggravation and "damn-it-all" whenever they're doing something related to a hunt. But it must be good watching your daughter practice the skills she started acquiring at college when she still wanted to be a doctor.
"How're things here, Ellen?"
That damned voice. Jo's hand shakes for a fraction of a second, but she doesn't let on anything. Hopefully Lance is busy looking at the tough new hunters in town.
"Well enough. Jo's takin' care of the injured, and I think that's just the priest."
"I hope so," says Sam, and his voice is full of emotion and regret and it's really soft.
Lance pokes Jo in the back. "Isn't that the guy you kept upstairs?" he whispers.
Jo nods, not taking her eye off the priest's bullet wound.
She feels someone crouch beside her, and knows it isn't Dean. She'd know if it was because she can always feel him, like she's got a Dean-radar under her skin. Instead, it's Sam, and she knows this because no one else is as much of a giant.
"Do you need help sewing him up?" he asks kindly. Unless he's possessed by a psychotic demon, Sam always does things kindly.
"I'm good," she tells him. "But if you can explain to Lance what I'm doing, I'm sure he'd like that."
"We're gonna go soon, Ellen," says Dean, his voice deep.
Jo notices that the way he talks is different. He sounds like he's lived a lifetime of pain, and there's a broken note that even daddy Winchester's death hadn't procured before. She wonders exactly what he's gone through, because it kills her a little just hearing it.
"Already?" her mom asks in a scandalized voice. "You boys just got here! It's been two years since that Devil's Gate in Wyoming now."
"Sorry," mumbles Dean, and Sam and Jo share a glance. Jo has to look away or she's gonna burst out laughing. Poor Dean, scared of Ellen Harvelle.
"Don't you be saying sorry to me, boy," snaps Ellen. "You're gonna tell me what you've been doing."
Sam tenses beside her, and Dean doesn't say anything. Jo looks back at Sam and he's wearing a face of self-hatred.
Jo is still a bit resentful of how the demon inside Sam treated her, but she's aware it wasn't him. So she steps in and says, "Thread me that needle, Sam. Shouldn't be more than ten stitches, I think."
"Yeah, sure," he says, sounding grateful at her change of subject.
"Look, Ellen, I'd love to stay," Dean starts again, "But my car – I left her all by her lonesome, and I'd hate anything to happen to my baby –"
"You care more about your car than your family?" her mom asks indignantly. "Don't make me slap you again."
"We really do have to go," the older brother insists.
Jo expected it, she just didn't expect it so soon. She looks again at Sam, who's wearing an apologetic face as he hands her the needle.
Ellen sighs. "Fine. But don't you boys be strangers. I won't be having that, not again."
"Yes, ma'am," says Dean. "I'll call you."
Before she can stop it, before she can think about stopping it, Jo starts laughing derisively, hysterically. Dean Winchester, saying "I'll call you" to a Harvelle. It was so pathetically transparent the second go 'round, too. For some reason she can't stop giggling.
Sam's eyeing her like he knows what happened. He's probably seen it a thousand times – only problem is, Jo wasn't and will never be a one night-stand for Dean. She's just the girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
In a brotherly, "I'm sorry he's a dick" fashion, Sam puts a hand on her back and rubs.
Lance clears his throat. Jo turns her head to wink at him and says, "You heard the woman, he's family." Funny that he'd get jealous of Sam Winchester.
"Oh," he says, sounding mollified. "That's alright then."
"Let's go, Sam," says Dean, and his voice sounds strained. Jo's hoping (ridiculously) that he's upset by Lance's obvious interest in her, but it's unlikely.
"I hope we see you again, Jo," Sam tells her, and gives her an awkward one-armed hug.
She likes the way that hug feels, and could get behind him as a brother. Maybe she'd steal him from Dean from time to time and they could hang out and watch football. God knows Ellen always tries to turn off the TV when Jo wants to watch the Steelers.
"It was good to see you, Sam," she says, and returns the hug.
The priest is watching patiently, and Jo takes the bottle of whiskey and dumps some over the wound again, pulling away from Sam with a grin.
She preps the needle and cautiously makes the first stitch, pulling the thread out the other side with two inches to spare at the end. She repeats this twice more in the same spot, once again making her reassuring statements.
There's a pregnant pause as she feels Dean trying to say something. Jo's not sure how she feels it but she does.
"Good to see you again Jo," he blurts out, with an attempt at macho.
Most likely Jo's starting to seem more like Ellen, and thus scares the crap out of Dean now.
Sam's getting up but doesn't let out a snicker, which she would have expected from him. Then again, the air does feel a little colder between them. Being on the road with someone for a long time can do that to you; hell, Jo and her mom sometimes do screaming matches.
Then again, they are women and Jo still gets her period regularly. Transition into bitch-hood is almost expected.
She's deliberately not saying anything back, wanting to hurt Dean even just a little bit. She'd never admit it but Jo's still bitter that he wouldn't call her. She knew he wouldn't, but…
"Jo, honey, aren't you gonna say goodbye?" asks Ellen.
Her mom knows what Dean meant (means) to her.
"Sure," she says, finishing up the row of stitches and pressing a whiskey-soaked towel on the closed wound. "Bye Sam."
"Bye, Jo," Sam says, sounding incredibly awkward. "Alright if I call you?"
"I'd love to hear from you, Sam," she says deliberately.
They say goodbye to Ellen and leave. Jo doesn't watch their backs as they vanish; she wouldn't stoop that low.
In a few days, she thinks absently, she'll regret brushing him off when she had the chance to connect with him again. For now, though, Jo's enjoying that vindictive pleasure one gets after serving up revenge. It feels incredibly satisfying.
For once, her mom doesn't point out how rude she was. She probably knows what it's like for Jo right now.
"Was that your… boyfriend?" Lance asks hesitantly.
Jo turns to look at him, completely serious. "Not even close," she tells him.
Because it's always the wrong place, wrong time with Dean. Maybe she'll run into him again, and it'll be nice for once, but it doesn't seem like it'll ever happen.
She smiles to herself as she thinks about how improbable anything between them could happen, slowly realizing that despite all the shit she tried to dump on him, she still loves Dean. It's not like she wants to, but love's not meant to be easy. It's meant to suck.
That's why it always had to be Dean.
And sadly, that's why Jo comes to the conclusion that she'll be working out tonight instead of having sex with Lance.
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(Author's Note): I started this out in the thought of a missing scene in "Good God, Y'all," with a major confession and a bit of romance. I don't think Jo or Dean would do that, however. Sigh. Jo's too awesome a character to be given some trashy lines.
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