Summary:
An old ballroom. A soulless Sam. They both just needed a moment of reprieve.
AU Season 6: Let's pretend that 5x10 and Jo's death never happened for a moment...
Author's Note:
Just a quick one-shot that I had spinning around in my head today while I was meant to be working. Completely random but I enjoyed writing it.
Hope you enjoy to!
Murphy :)
The Gramophone
The majority of the patrons had filed out of the club as soon as the shots were fired. Very few remained. The waiters were still sweeping up broken glass. The smell of sweat and perfume hung over the smoke in the air and Jo stood patiently as Dean insistently apologised for the behaviour of his brother, still unable to feel a thing. A lack of soul tended to do that to a person. Jo felt a guilty sorrow for Dean, having to deal with his brother's mistakes and forever feeling it was though it were his fault Sam's life had taken so many treacherous paths. Whatever one Winchester brother got himself into, the other had a tendency to drag his sibling into it with him.
When he was done apologising, Dean turned around and gave her a forlorn smile. He seemed surprised to see her still there. They had been hunting the same high-end club-loving warlock when they had crossed paths, both of them shocked to have come across each other in an overwhelming scene of Sam tossing the aforementioned warlock across the room. Dean, exasperated with his brother, had simply let Sam return from the hotel room while he dealt with the mess that had been left behind.
"Thought you might have gone home," he said, coming to stand beside her and offering her his arm.
Jo shook her head.
"Fairly difficult to get rid of me, I think you'll find," Jo replied.
Dean nodded and lead her out of the club into the night. There were still a few officers hanging around and both Jo and Dean kept their eyes averted to avoid looking at them. Any attention drawn to them was unwelcome, particularly since Jo had a knife tucked into her garter underneath her dress and Dean had a shotgun tucked inside his suit jacket. Jo almost wished she had left, not thrilled to have spent the evening cleaning up an expensive club she would never again be allowed to visit. But, she reminded herself that she would have been like all the rest that abandoned Dean to clean up the messes that were left in their wake. They all left him behind.
"I've got something I think you'll like," Dean said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. Jo shook her head at the teasing glint in his eye. Jo concentrated on every step to keep her body from shaking as the warm of his breath against her ear catapulted through her senses. She couldn't stop the shiver that ran down her spine though. She wondered whether Dean could feel it from where his hand rested at the small of her back.
In the neighbouring street which was abandoned, with all of the houses boarded up and many with smashed windows, Dean ran ahead of her. Jo followed curiously, watching as he disappeared underneath a boarded up door and into the largest building on the street. It was an old casino. Jo glanced up, seeing what would probably have been a grand building in its day, but had, like so many others in the rural, previously booming mining town, been abandoned and forgotten like the rest of the houses and shops in that street, and the many others that mirrored it.
Jo felt a draft on her feet as she stood in front of the door.
"Dean?" she asked, whispering despite the lack of life on the street.
When there was no response, she kicked the lowest board.
"Dean?" she repeated, louder this time. "Dean Winchester?"
Again, no response. Rolling her eyes, Jo kicked the board again. Without response, she crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her coat tighter around her body. Then she felt something grasp her foot. She shrieked and jumped backwards, kicking until the offender let go of her ankle. Breathing deeply, her heart racing, and after she regained her composure, Jo looked down to see a grinning Dean Winchester looking up at her from where his head stuck out from underneath the lowest board that hid the casino's door.
"What the hell was that?" Jo grumbled. "You scared the life out of me. I thought you must have run off. Plus, now I'm pretty sure you just wanted to look up my skirt."
Dean smirked at her.
"I've run away from a lot of people, but you are not one of them, Jo Harvelle," Dean replied.
Jo scoffed, and watched Dean's head recede back inside the casino.
"Dean," Jo said, kneeling down onto the ground and peering underneath the wooden slat. "I'm not crawling in there. What are you doing in there, anyway? Haven't you had enough haunted buildings for one night?"
"Perfectly safe, old girl, come on," Dean replied, his voice sounding further away than it probably was. "Let's have a bit of fun, hey?"
Still unsure, but deciding it was best to follow for his own safety rather than hers, Jo slid down onto her back and used the lowest board to pull herself through the gaping hole into the darkness. She felt the dust and dirt from decades of abandonment cling to her beautiful red dress and wondered momentarily how she was ever going to explain to the woman she had hired it from why her lovely dress was now covered in all manner of haunted house dust.
Feeling around her, still coated in darkness, Jo got to her feet.
"Dean?" she whispered, concerned of being heard by no one. "Dean, please don't play games with me. I'm really not in the mood tonight. Dean Winchester, where are you?"
The light sparkling to life made Jo jump and she breathed a deep sigh of relief when she saw Dean smiling at her. He had removed his jacket and his white shirt shirt was cast with ghostly shadows from the cobwebs that hung above them on the chandelier. Wallpaper was slowly peeling away from the walls like skin that had been in the sun too long, and the staircase in front of her leading up to the mezzanine, Jo suspected, wouldn't hold her weight should she step on any step. The tiled floor had cracked and then been repaired more times than was probably reasonable and all portraits on the walls were hanging slightly askew.
"Come this way if you please, milady," Dean said, holding out his arm to her.
"You're in a weird mood, tonight," Jo commented.
Dean shrugged, "I can't deal with Sam right now. I just need a...break from it all."
Jo nodded, "I get ya. This place is kinda cool, anyway."
Animated by her apparent change in mood, Dean held out his hand to her. Jo examined the room, her eyes falling on an ancient candelabra of which only the centre remained as if untouched. The other four candles were nothing but stumps with long hanging masses of wax draping towards the floor.
Jo smiled and stepped towards him. She took his arm and he lead her past the staircase and down a labyrinth of hallways before finally coming to a grand ballroom. Decorated mostly in gold and sporting a crystal chandelier with minimal cobwebs, Jo imagined the architects of the space would be beyond disappointed to see that the only occupants of their once grand ballroom were now two hunters covered in the remnants of hunting supernatural beings.
Rich burgundy curtains hung around the four tall, stained-glass windows at the far end of the ballroom where the moonlight shone through creating a rainbow of beautiful colours. There was little to no furniture, only a few chairs in need of new coverings and oiling, and a simple paw-footed table on the far side of the room. Atop sat an old gramophone with a large gold head. Beside it sat a grand piano which looked newer than the rest of the building.
"What is this place?" Jo asked.
Dean smiled, watching her admire the ballroom. He replied, "Believe it or not, this used to be one the most popular places in town. It fell into disuse turn of the century after the owner died and no one wanted to buy it. It was closed and condemned, but no one ever did anything about it. Kinda just sat her collecting ghosts.."
"I think it's beautiful," Jo replied, moving away from Dean and spinning in her red dress, a girlish wonderment passing over her as she examined the ballroom. She was almost certain that she saw some of the expression on the painted faces hanging around the room turn to happiness as she turned on her heel, the skirt of her dress swinging around her.
Dean paced towards the gramophone. He was aware of Jo behind him, foxtrotting across the floor by herself. A tinny, admittedly quite out-of-tune, song filled the ballroom. Dean turned to see Jo grinning broadly at him - for the first time that evening, taking the stupid high-end hunt seemed to be worth it. Dean cautiously stepped towards her. She had removed her long coat and was only in her thin red dress now, her blonde hair curling around her shoulders.
"A dance, Jo?" Dean asked.
Jo nodded and held out her hand to him. He pulled her against him and Jo smiled. Dean felt a wave of relief and calm wash over him that he hadn't felt in a long time. They swayed slowly back and forth. Dean tried desperately to think of anything other than the way Jo felt in his arms. Maybe he might convince her to stay for another hunt.
"This is nice," Jo commented.
Dean grinned at her, "It is?"
"This your way of trying to get me into bed?" Jo teased.
Dean laughed, "Nah. This place is cool. I think I remember coming here with my folks when I was little. One of the earliest memories I have of Mom. The one time Mom actually agreed to go on a hunt with him after I was born. Think she liked the idea of running into a '20s ghost or something."
Jo smiled, "That's sweet. Weird family vacation though."
"Yeah, well. You're the only other person I know weird enough to like this," Dean replied.
She laughed. Dean knew instantly. Even with all the trouble that Sam was causing - all the having a soul and such - maybe tonight, just tonight, it had been worth it.