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Chapter Thirteen
She was struggling to hold on; with every last fibre of her being she was battling to regain what she had lost.
Jo could only watch helplessly as her hand threatened the life of the man who had saved her own on countless occasions. A mirthful laugh that was not her own rose up from lips that were, and Jo's fury began to build by every passing second.
The thoughts of the demon were murderous and black, and Jo was privy to every single one of them. Over and over, the demon replayed an image to Jo as though hoping to taunt her into total submission; Dean, falling always to the left, with a crimson tide pulsing from an angry slash that cut his neck open from ear to ear. If Jo could have screamed, she would; but not in terror, instead in a demonstration of the immense anger that was bubbling up from the very pit of her stomach.
Jo had lost so much already in her twenty-five years; first her father, then the only home she had ever known along with the man she had thought of as a brother, and finally her mother. Jo was just plain through with losing. Her determination steely, Jo rattled at the bars of her mental cage with the fury of a wild animal.
As the false image of Dean's 'death' flashed once more through her mind, Jo's temper finally reached boiling point. Through the myriad of Leila's words, Jo heard herself screaming in rebellion and her mental refusal tore through her body with an almost blinding pain.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jo had registered Dean's final words and, though his voice had seemed far removed from her jumbled thoughts, it spurred on the natural defiance in her nature. Her mother had given her own life so that Jo might have one, and that was precisely what she intended to fight for. There was the possibility of a future now, to build something good that existed outside of the realms of the monsters and darkness that for so long had been all consuming in her life. Jo would be damned if she would allow a skanky demonic bitch to steal all that from her like Meg had stolen away her mother.
Jo's fury escalated, merging with the fear, love and hope she felt as she gazed down through a haze at the man before her. Dean's eyes were open still as he awaited his death and he hardly blinked as he surveyed Jo's face; determined that she would be the last thing he saw. Leila's taunting laughter became a howl of unbridled rage as she felt her dominance over Jo slowly slipping from her grasp.
Jo gasped for air, her grip on the sword in her hand suddenly failing, and as an unearthly wail emanated from her throat she sank to her knees on the ground. Her head was pounding viciously but Jo continued to grapple with the demon in her mind, refusing to succumb to the agony that promised to engulf her.
Sam had finally reached the couple and he grabbed hold of Dean by the shoulders as his brother attempted to run to Jo's aid. Reaching behind Dean's back with his hunting knife, Sam slashed the thick cord that bound Dean's hands. Gratefully, Dean pulled his arms around to the front of his body, ignoring the ache in his wrists that was a result of his restraints.
"We gotta do something Sam," Dean demanded, his desperation evident as he searched Sam's face for an answer. The brothers' attentions were drawn to Jo as she staggered somewhat and then slumped forward, an internal battle clearly raging within her body.
"No..." she hissed, lip curling, Leila still evidently winning out.
Sam thwarted Dean's attempt to run to her side with one arm flung out in haste, and he matched the angry glare Dean shot him with a pointed expression, "This has to be her fight, Dean."
Glowering furiously at his brother, Dean shook his head in disbelief, "What the hell's wrong with you?"
Shrugging off Sam's restraining hold on his arm, he marched purposefully toward Jo, who was now slumped on the ground, her eyelids fluttering as her body convulsed uncontrollably. Sinking to the ground beside her, Dean pulled her across his knee and wrapped both arms around her. Sam dutifully followed behind and crouched beside them, unsure of how to help save for performing an exorcism, which he doubted would prove effective against Satan's daughter. Only Jo could reclaim her body but Sam understood Dean's need to help, no matter how futile it may be. Sam knew he would have done anything within his power to save Jess and he could not deny his brother the right to at least try.
"Jo?" Dean called sharply, wincing as her tormented screams pierced the air and he held onto her tighter. He watched her eyes flash between demonic black and the deep brown he had grown to love.
"Dean..." she shrieked, her voice holding none of its usual composure. "I-I can't do... it..."
"Yes you can," Dean retorted, shaking Jo angrily now in an effort to ground her. "Don't you dare give up Harvelle or I'll never forgive you."
"She won't win..." the voice that left Jo's lips next was bass and drenched with scorn, but Dean ignored both his own panic and the demon's promise as best as he could.
"You can do this Jo," reiterated Dean, wincing as Jo's hand seized his wrist and her fingertips dug into his skin with such force that they would more than likely leave marks in their wake.
"Get... out... of... my... body..." Jo gasped, beginning to cough and wretch violently now as thick, black smog suddenly poured from her mouth and nostrils.
Dean glanced up helplessly at Sam, alarm radiating from his whole body.
"Leave her," Sam ordered. "She has to do this alone."
Dean watched, eyes widening, as the demon was ripped from Jo's body at an alarming speed. The dark shadow swirled in the atmosphere above their heads for a few moments, drawing the gazes of the surviving primal demons. In unison, the creatures released pitiful wails that to Dean signified their recognition of their own defeat. Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled and a thick crack appeared underfoot. With the last of the smoke exiting her body, Jo collapsed onto her stomach, breathing hard and still gagging as though the evil had left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Dean and Sam watched, unmoving and unblinking, as the smoky remnants of the demon began to swirl in a sort of whirlwind before being sucked into the newly opened crack with a hiss. The ground sealed up as the last of the smoke filtered into it, and Dean let out a heavy sigh of relief. He shot a glance at the woman who lay limp in his arms now with her eyes closed and her hair falling in a tangled mass across her face.
"Jo?" Dean attempted, smoothing one palm across Jo's cheek whilst simultaneously brushing her hair away to the side.
"Jo?" he tried again, gently tapping her cheek to wake her. Jo's eyes flickered open very slowly and she coughed as she tried to draw in a deep breath. Every muscle in her body simultaneously ached and throbbed furiously, and she groaned in disapproval as Dean hoisted her up into his arms in order to carry her over toward Castiel and Duke.
The older hunter looked at Jo with concern clouding his blue eyes as she spluttered in Dean's arms and rubbed at her forehead.
"Is she okay?" he directed his question at Dean.
Jo sighed and opened her eyes, nodding as she answered rather pointedly for herself.
"I'm fine," she assured him, quietly demanding that Dean let her stand. Finding her balance on shaky legs, Jo cursed under her breath as she stumbled, and Dean secured an arm around her waist.
"I've got you," he assured her, his heart gradually slowing to a regular rhythm. Jo glanced up and smiled at him intently and, although dark shadows beneath her eyes belayed her tiredness, Dean was relieved to see the familiar warmth and light shining back at him from within them.
"We must leave, now," Castiel stated hurriedly to Sam and Dean who nodded in hearty agreement.
"Fine by us, Cas," Dean replied, more than ready to return home from a dimension that if he ever saw it again it would only be too soon.
"What about these guys?" asked Jo, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the surviving hunters, of which now there were only seven. The few remaining primal demons were being cut down as they spoke whilst a trio of the hunters began burning down the buildings surrounding the landscape using the torches that had served as part of the ritualistic circle.
"I can't take them with us now," Cas said with a frown, "I only barely have enough power to return you, Dean and Sam home."
"We can't just leave them here," Sam interjected, ignoring the grumble of protest that emanated from Dean's vicinity.
"Of course not," Castiel hastened, arching an eyebrow at Sam as though he could not believe that the hunter thought he had considered that for a moment. "Other angels will be sent to retrieve them later on."
"And how do we know that will happen?" demanded Dean, his mistrust of the celestial beings more than apparent in both his tone and the curl of his lip.
"You have my word," said Cas, nodding once at Dean as though that gesture alone should seal his belief.
"You guys get going," Duke interrupted, suddenly seizing Castiel by the hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "I'll give Jo a call as soon as we touch down on planet Earth again."
He chuckled at his own humourless joke before wrapping Jo in his mighty arms and initiating the most gentle hug she had experienced for a while. She smiled at Duke, and he patted her affectionately on the head as he had done to his own girls for over two decades now.
"I was real sorry to hear about your Momma," murmured Duke.
Jo nodded, her bottom lip visibly trembling at the mere mention of her mother and the thoughts that Duke's condolences evoked. The events of the past couple of days and indeed the last week seemed finally to have caught up with Jo, and in her exhaustion she could no longer stem the steady stream of tears that began to fall.
Duke shook his head sadly, watching as Jo raised a trembling hand to cover her eyes and turned away, self conscious of her emotional display. Dean understood her reluctance to address her feelings perhaps better than most; he was never comfortable dealing with the events that had occurred in his own life and in that they were alike. But something inside of Jo had finally given way to her grief and so Dean did the only thing he could think of and held her close as she cried.
"We need to go... now," Castiel urged, laying one hand on Sam's shoulder and the other on Dean's arm. Dean pulled Jo closer into his embrace, laying his chin on the crown of her blonde head and rubbing soothing circles on her back.
"There's no place like home," Dean muttered sarcastically, shooting a glance at Castiel and Sam. It was locked in that very same pose that mere seconds later the trio found themselves transported back to Bobby's lounge.
Bobby glanced up from the newspaper he had been reading and grimaced as Castiel collapsed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, his strength clearly having been spent by the effort of the transportation.
"Well it's about time," Bobby drawled, his understanding gaze ticking to Jo whose face remained buried in Dean's chest as she sniffled quietly. With a brief nod at Sam, Bobby turned his attention to Dean and said with a sigh, "I'll go get the whiskey, and the medical kit."
Dean glanced down at himself and Jo, nodding as he lost count of the various cuts and superficial wounds that now littered their bodies. The wound on Jo's side would need to be cleaned and redressed. He frowned as he saw a trail of blood on her shirt where a suture had opened and caused her to bleed out. He wondered if when Castiel finally regained consciousness he would consider healing the wound permanently, if Jo was willing.
"Let's get you cleaned up..." Dean arched an eyebrow as Bobby slammed a large bottle of Jack Daniels on the table in preparation, "and... liquored up, apparently."
Jo managed a brief smile at his attempt at humour and she nodded wordlessly at his suggestion. The idea of a shower, clean clothes and a comfortable bed were all too appealing and she felt as if given the opportunity she could sleep for a week. The couple stepped over Castiel's body, leaving Sam alone to attempt to haul the angel onto the old couch.
"Here you go, kid," Bobby tossed Dean an ice-pack, which the young hunter instantly applied to his eye and cheekbone. He winced and hissed in discomfort as his blackened eye throbbed in response. Jo took a seat on one of the kitchen chairs and gratefully accepted the Kleenex Bobby offered her, wiping hastily at her eyes and cheeks in order to scrub the tear tracks from her skin.
"I was starting to get worried," Bobby remarked, glancing at each of his friends in turn and noting with relief that they all appeared essentially unharmed.
"You and me both," Sam stated, sitting down wearily in the chair next to Jo. Bobby gestured discretely to Jo and looked at Sam in questioning. However, the younger Winchester simply shook his head, evidently inferring that the time for questions had yet to arise.
"I'm gonna take a shower, if that's okay?" Jo asked, standing up and wincing at the numerous tiny aches that consumed her body. She hoped that the warm water would prove a soothing balm but was assured by the sight of Bobby's first aid kit that more pharmaceutical remedies were not far from hand.
Dean glanced up at her, concern clouding his features and Jo smiled at him in response, trying to allay his fears. Dean climbed to his feet and reached out a hand toward Jo, threading his fingers through hers as he bent to whisper in her ear. A second later, Jo seemed to visibly relax and a tired yet genuine smile briefly crossed her lips.
"Clean towels are in the linen closet," Bobby called after her, watching as she slipped her hand from Dean's and disappeared slowly up the stairs.
Dean sat back in the nearest chair with a loud groan and immediately reached for the bottle that Bobby helpfully slid across the table to him.
"You two looked mighty cosy," Bobby stated after a beat, and the sound of the shower being turned on had drifted down the stairs, signifying that Jo would not be reappearing any time soon. Dean whipped his head up and glared at the man, awaiting the lecture he felt sure was impending.
"What of it?" demanded Dean, his exhaustion overwhelming his better nature and causing his voice to come out as a gruff bark.
"Just sayin'," countered Bobby, holding both palms up in a placating gesture. As Dean began to unscrew the cap from the bottle, Bobby breathed in deeply and then pressed on, "But I warn you Dean, if you hurt that girl..."
"Why does everyone keep saying that to me?" interjected Dean, catching the tumbler that Sam slid across the table to him and beginning to pour a shot of whiskey. "I have no intention of hurting her. So just... shut up."
Bobby nodded, watching as Dean downed the entire contents of his glass before pausing to refill it with a slight wince as the amber whiskey burned the back of his throat.
"Get a couple more glasses, would ya Sammy?" said Bobby, shooting a glance at the youngest Winchester. Sam trotted off dutifully to oblige, and that was the end of the conversation.