Chapter 7 She Is Not A Damsel In Distress But He Is Her Knight
She could hear rain poring on the car's roof, feel accidental bumps on the passing road and lights of the cars.
She was ready to interrupt the brother's talk saying that she was awake, but on hearing her name she pressed the vocal breaks.
"So, what's the deal with this Jo-girl?" asked Sam.
"Huh, what do you mean? She twisted her ankle," said Dean.
"Dean, what I want to know is how my playboy-womanizer -badass of a brother became a married man?" he paused. "Is she pregnant?"
Jo wanted to kick Sam.
"What?! No! It's not like this," rushed out of Dean with indignation.
"And if I remember correctly you were never against a marriage."
Sam's face twisted.
"Sorry." said Dean. "But I want to make it clear Sam, Jo is a family now. And you better treat her right little brother."
His words made Jo feel like she was wrapped in a soft warm blanket.
"I'm sorry, Dean. It's just such a... such a change from what I remember. But if you are happy I am happy for you."
"It's.. "
"What?" thought Jo, "It's not like that..it's not what you think...it's.."
"It's more than that," finished Dean.
Silence.
"I am sorry Sam for not finding you sooner, I would never give up."
Silence.
"I know."
Jo, felt like an intruder. She could already see that Dean was a closed up man.
"You know, I am kind of happy not knowing what I did while being possessed, but the rational part of me is terrified of what I might have done."
"No, Sam. It done! Not you! And you better come in terms with this shit."
They stayed at a slightly better place. Jo was totally agree that they should stick together and share.
They all went out for dinner to have some kind of welcome to the family party.
Sam was actually a nice guy, but still Jo couldn't forget the feeling of his (she knew technically it were not his but still) fingers on her neck and wicked gleam in the eyes.
Boys were drinking beer and talking. She put her two pennies in the conversation too. Even made the brothers laugh. But she couldn't help the feeling of being an outside observer of the brother's bond. The reason told her she was their hunting partner. The soul was feeling cold. She missed the soft blanket of his care.
Somehow the group of three became the group of two and one.
Brothers were playing pool. She suspected that Dean wanted to make some money.
She was not in the script of this affair though.
She spotted darts in the end of the bar. She enjoyed darts. She had a good eye and it helped her to relax. Her ankle was fine, honestly she had worse. The bruises were quite professionally concealed.
There was a company of college brats obviously celebrating some stuff. Navigating through the tables and people to the bar her mind was already forming a plan to gamble and win some money too. She slipped her wedding band on the other hand. There was no sign left yet. She would have to think it over later.
She smiled flirtatiously when she was passing the company's table.
She already had the bottle of bear in her hand.
Once she started throwing darts, she noticed a couple of college boys had separated from their flock and drifted in her direction. They flirted, she played along.
She wasn't Jo the hunter, she was a carefree girl, a bait, a prize.
When she missed the fourth time in a raw they asked if she wanted them to show her the ropes.
She swallowed hard when she felt the hand on her thigh, and a body pressing beside hers. It was the sleaziest part of the gamble and she once again mentally reminded herself to elaborate the deceit, in order to erase this part. She suppressed the urge to shove off the guy.
Well, she would just treat it as the drawbacks of the job.
Instead, she giggled and accepted.
No matter how skillfully she tried to avoid the dreadful violating touch every now and then she felt it. But she still got everything under her control. After a couple of shooting lessons, small talk and four bile-suppress-in time groupings they were having a bet: 500 bucks for five straight bull eyes versus a make out session.
The company of gathered men was laughing and drinking in anticipation of the victory. But the atmosphere got cooler with every dart hitting the target. After she succeeded in the fifth time, she turned to her competitor and said gleefully in the frozen silence around her, "Guess, a newbie won!"
"What the fuck!?"
"Hey, we played, I won. Don't kill the fun!" Jo tried to stay in the mode of tipsy, silly and easy girl. She could literary feel how the circle of observers grew tighter around her.
"I won't pay to a swindler."
"What!? We made a bet and I won. All is fair and square."
"You wish skank," snarled her adversary. Now, he was openly advancing her demonstrating his physical advantage.
But Jo only smirked, struck her hand and grabbed the cash from the nearest table (it was her own saying: you see the price and I want to see mine!) She made exactly two steps (for that she also had a rule: the more steps, the less punches you'll have to throw), a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, "I don't think so," a faceless voice growled.
'Neither do I," said Jo.
She turned around dramatically: gone was the silly girl, a warrior was staring them down.
Jo knew that they were just drunken boys who might not even tasted blood. She took the knife out of her boot and shoot it straight into the bull's eye, effectively destroying the darts that were occupying the central space.
Now she had more time to take more steps.
She was out of the tight circle of her enemies then out of the bar moving towards the Impala when she started texting Dean to come out and bring her her jacket.
She felt really naked without her gun that she always carried. And mostly she really was getting cold too. As she predicted no one followed her after seeing the knife hitting the target.
She heard steps after a few minutes and looked in the direction of the sound.
"Hell, no! Why am I so lucky?" thought Jo.
"Want some company, baby?" the slurred "baby" made her cringe. The guy was a total drunk. Jo decided to try and handle it peacefully, that's why as politely as possible she replied, "Not. Interested. Sorry."
She braced herself for the worst mentally kicking Dean too hurry up.
"Such a pretty thing, and all alone," the drunken pushed without a pause.
Jo was ready to hit the hitter and was mentally picturing the better way to do so, when she heard: "I believe she is ok, but thank you for the trouble."
Dean's voice was even like a steel, barely masking a desire to throw a punch. The drunken finely got a hint: "Ah, why all the good ones are taken." He said rather good naturally and left the parking lot.
Jo felt like a creepy chill ran through her. She finely exhaled.
Dean opened the front door of the Impala, the seat next to him.
She took it silently. He started the engine.
Silence.
They were waiting for Sam. She turned to face him and her words died on her lips. On the parking lot there was no moon. It was hidden by the clouds like blankets. Street lamps were meek.
But Impala's light disclosed the blooded knuckles.
Dean wasn't watching her, though he didn't have to in order to know what her eyes caught.
Any talk was smothered by Sam's opening the back door.
Silent Impala left the parking lot.
It was not silence that made this ride unusual but the fact that Jo was occupying the shot gun place. And not Sam. Jo was mentally and physically close to exhausted. But, God knows, how often she had to function on such level of strength.
If he wanted silence, she had no reason not to give him any. Though, she was more than ready to call this day a night.
This quiet and serious side of Dean was still new to her. No, she was not afraid of him. Never. She was unnerved and …
Dean's words froze her hand on the door handle when the Impala reached their motel.
"Sam, make sure that all the traps and salt lines are intact. We'll be back in a few." His voice was quiet, controlled, tired and old.
She ordered her body to relax and act cool. The mask of unfazed hunter slipped over her features. She was in the game, ready to play and fight to win.
She didn't hear Sam's reply, but as soon as the door after him closed, the car roared out of the parking lot leaving tire prints.
Just to be sure, she said "Cristo." He heard her and it was the first time his greenish eyes met hers. He didn't need to watch the road to drive, still staring in her smoldering eyes, he said, "You're a magnet for shit, aren't you?"
"Excuse me?"
"By the way, you are really good at darts," he choked out. She didn't blink.
Silence.
He parked the car.
Silence.
Now the silence got pretty overestimated. She hated it.
She wanted to be a screaming bitch and if he didn't start talking she would.
"That's a pretty thing to get lost, he said giving her the knife that she left in the bar's bull's eye."
She took it. The warm metal cooled her close to frustration desire to scream.
"Jo, I know that I have no right to be angry with you."
She was surprised by this admission.
"But damn, if I am not right now!"
"I am a big girl, I am not gonna stop doing anything even if you say so."
"I know, Jo. I know."
His mask of a collected player was slipping.
He left the car.
After only a moment she followed.
"I guess, I was just not ready to see you around some college assholes who thought it was ok to …hit on you so hard."
He wasn't looking at her and she greedily drank his expression, mimic and gestures.
He chuckled suddenly, a light cocky smirk played on his lips.
"You were amazing, it was a real show."
She was very pleased with his praise.
"I still get to work on the avoid-the-touches part, though", Jo admitted begrudgingly.
He reached her left hand. She was a little surprised. She liked the feel of his warm hand.
"Definitely, I don't think I can watch the rerun of this show no matter how fascinating it was."
His tone returned to serious one. Now, it was her turn to break the silence with a chuckle.
Silence.
But it was the calm one, warm one, and not buzzing with nervous tension silence.
Jo squeezed Dean's hand, "Thank you Dean. I think, I owe it to you, as well as... I am sorry."
He watched her carefully.
Oh, he would not let her go so easily. She thought.
His sharp eyes demanded the full explanation.
"I am not used to this caring Dean. I was on my own for far too long." She couldn't hold his gaze.
"And I'm getting used to you caring so fast," thought Jo.
He squeezed her hand, letting her know that it was ok. He got it. He really did.
Yes, John died only last year, but with Mary being taken away from him when he was only four. Oh, he could relate very well. Though, he still got his little brother.
"And you are right," she said out of nowhere. "I am a total shit magnet."
"But, now you have me and Sam to watch your back." Dean declared simply.
And not only on the hunts was hanging in the air.
