"What Was Lost May Be Found"
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Supernatural characters featured here.
Summary: After returning from Carthage, Dean battles with the guilt deep inside his heart. Victory hangs in the balance and the loss of Jo consumes him. While Dean is determined to suffer, he receives some unexpected messages of hope to guide him. Takes place after Season 5's Abandon All Hope.
AN: Sorry for the long gap between updates. I write on a whim and decided to shorten this story, maybe only one more chapter after this. I hope you all enjoy it and thank you for hanging in there.
Chapter 3
Dean pulled into the motel's parking lot and Sam walked to the office to check them in. Dean grabbed their duffel bags and waited for Sam to return with their room key. A frigid wind blew with them into room's darkness. As soon as the light switch was flicked on, Dean threw the car keys onto the table and started stripping off his grime covered clothes. His whole body ached from digging through rubble and bricks. But it was his heart that weighted him down the most.
He left a trail of cotton and denim and headed into the bathroom to shower. Sam unpacked some clean t-shirts and jeans while he waited for the bathroom to be free. It's the first moment he's had to himself since this morning when it all went downhill. The weight of losing Ellen and Jo was on both their shoulders but Dean insisted on carrying it all. Dean wanted to build her a stretcher and get her and Ellen safely out of town.
But Sam had silently agreed to Jo's plan. The truth was, he didn't think of an alternative. Sam was still lost in that thought when he heard the faucets turn off and Dean emerged from a pillow of steam. All cleaned up but still focused and angry at the world. Sam decided that he had enough runaround and it was time to get on the same page. The best way he knew how, start slow and nonjudgmental.
"Shower's free." Dean commented as he walked by to his duffel on the extra bed.
"It can wait. We should talk, Dean. I know we're here to find Jo's knife. I think I know why. I'm just not sure why today." Sam began another round of questions.
As he dug through the bag for clean laundry, Dean refused to look at Sam. He knew he couldn't keep this locked inside anymore. The guilt was killing him, the dreams, and the torture of not knowing what to do next. He clenched the fabric in his fists, looked up at Sam, and sighed.
"Maybe if I hold something close to her, she'll come back. Maybe she'll stay…." Dean confessed.
"Maybe she'll stay? I don't understand. Dean, she's…"
"Don't you say that word, Sammy. I know that. I do. But I saw her. Here, right out there on the street. God, she was so beautiful. And before I knew it, she was ripped apart again and cut into ribbons. Then she was gone." Dean yelled, fighting the rage that bubbled inside him.
"Your dream." Sam put another puzzle piece in place.
"It felt so real, the sun was so warm. She looked beautiful. And the best part, I still couldn't save her."
"None of this is your fault." Sam tried telling him, not surprised hearing the gut wrenching guilt.
"Isn't it? The hard choices are always on me. The whole time we were trapped in that hardware store she looked me, right in the eye, and told me what she was thinking of doing. With barely a voice, she was trying to make me understand why it had to be that way. Not you, not Ellen. Me. I'm the one who put the damn detonator in her hand!" Dean stabbed a finger into his chest.
"It was brave. C'mon think about it. Wouldn't you want to go out on your own terms? To decide your own fate?" Sam tried to rationalize to him.
"It was a stupid plan that didn't even work. The Colt did nothing. "
"Jo gave us that shot and we had to take it." Sam reminded him.
"I didn't deserve it. And now what? We have no plan, nowhere to go."
"It's up to us to continue on, man, and try to avenge the people we lost. We lost Ellen too. She loved us like we were her own. Look, I'm trying to wrap my head around what's happened here but I need you to stick with me on this, okay. Together, right? We do this together."
Somehow, Dean managed to fall asleep and his mind was filled with serenity and comfort. He could feel the sunlight on his face as he was lying in the street. Dean looked up into Jo's brown eyes as she laughed and reached down to pull him onto his feet.
"There's my girl." Dean's strong arms automatically went to squeeze her waist, as close as he could get.
His hands fisted the soft white fabric of Jo's dress as she ran her fingers through his hair and tickled his earlobe. The slightest grace to that spot made Dean moan and take his hungry lips to hers. His kiss was needy and desperate but it joined them completely. He trailed his mouth to her neck and Jo face flushed and she sighed with anticipation.
His hands roamed up and down her back, feeling the need to search for her bare skin. All he wanted in this moment was to savor every goosebump, every freckle with his mouth. Jo dug her fingers into the material of his shirt, her hands spreading over the muscles of his arms as they enveloped her. Just when Dean pulled down a shoulder strap, he heard the sound of maniacal whistling from around the corner. Dean looked over Jo's shoulder and saw Meg balancing Jo's knife on the palm of her hand.
"Looking for something Dean-o." Meg laughed, her mouth twisted in a wicked smile.
"Meg." Dean moved Jo to stand behind him.
"You're not gonna find it. Try and try your little heart out. I warned you but you wouldn't give up. That's okay, we already caught this scrumptious little morsel." Meg easily pulled Jo away from his guard in an instant.
Dean felt helpless as Meg played with a fistful of Jo's blonde hair, pulling it roughly to make her scream out in pain. All he could do was watch as she struggled to free her arms but that only strengthened Meg's deadly hold on her. Jo's brown eyes watered and her lips began to tremble as she felt the cold blade of her own knife as the small cuts pinched down her face. It's sharp tip traced the curve of her jawline.
"He can't help you, blondie. No one can". Meg hissed as she slowly inched the razored edge down closer to Jo's neck and sliced the delicate skin wide open.
With a cry, Dean's body jumped out of the horrifying slumber and Sam was startled awake.
"Another dream?" Sam asked, his voice groggy and hoarse.
"Yeah, only this time Meg was there. Taunting me. She had the knife, Sam."
"All the more reason for us to go back and get it. So we can finish this."
"Yeah I know. This is all just messing with my head. I need some fresh air. " Dean put on his boots and grabbed his jacket, leaving a worried Sam behind.
Dean walked out into the parking lot, his mind spun out of control as he thought of Jo and their missed chances. Having a romantic relationship went against everything Dean believed in. He knew Jo was stubborn and hated being left behind and broken hearted. Dean swore that day he would stay away to protect her. They were never at the right place and the right time.
It took being separated to see the change in her. The experience she gained to the dangers they faced every day. It was like seeing her with new eyes. It knocked the wind out of him and hit him like a ton of bricks. Here was a woman he could have a future with, if he took that risk. It might not be a "normal" family but if anybody can understand his life, it's her. But he was robbed of the chance to tell her this, to make her smile, and love him back. Another missed chance.
Is that what these nightmares are? Guilt? I never acted on my feelings and pushed her away… I want this to be real.
The next morning, Dean drove the Impala back to the hardware store. Sam was right, the daylight definitely made a difference. The morning brought an eerie sense of quiet, the destruction in harsh light was devastating. The broken glass looked sharper, the rubble denser. Dean got out of the car and looked all around the street. Not a soul. No Castiel, no Meg, but his instincts told him that they weren't alone. Sam gave him a quick nod and motioned to where the hardware store once stood.
They split up and each took on a section. Dean mentally recounted the number of paces to the back of the store. Was it 50? 100?, Dean muttered to himself as he trudged through the shambles of bricks and charred plastic. Like a magnetic pull, Dean reached the near end, stopped, and fell to his knees. Gathering anything in his way, Dean started throwing planks of wood and burnt drywall over his head. At first his efforts came up with nothing but filth and ash. Suddenly in his sight, were green remnants of fabric splashed with dried blood. Jo's jacket.
"Sam, get over here! I found Jo's jacket. The knife has to be here."
His mind was racing, his heart pounded in his chest but Dean couldn't wait for Sam. Adrenaline fueled his veins so he kept on digging, searching until his hands were raw and his fingertips bloody with cuts. Refusing to give up, it didn't take long for his raging to find the object of his mission. Dean laughed as he unearthed William Anthony Harvelle's hunting knife. I found it, Jo.
He felt his eyes well up and brushed any tears off with the back of his hand. With his thumb, Dean traced the initials craved into the blade. Jo became a hunter in her father's memory and Dean was going to make them both proud. Now he was ready to find Lucifer and carve his essence right out of the vessel. And he had just the weapon to do it with.
"Now, let's go have some fun." Dean yelled and dusted off the knife so it glistened in the sunlight.
"Glad to hear you say that. I have a case for us. How fast can you get us to Oklahoma?"