Summary:
ONE-SHOT AU Season 4: Dean is back from Hell, but is it too late for he and Jo to find each other?
Sequel to previous piece, 'Right Where You Left Me'. Final story of this series.
Author's Note:
Hi Everyone!
Me again with another one-shot. This piece is sequential to my previous one-shot 'Right Where You Left Me' and is the final of this little series of stories.
I hope you enjoy it and wherever you are, you're safe and smiling! Reviews are always appreciated!
More stories and writings to come!
Thanks again, lovely readers!
Haunted Hope
"Jo, the guy is dead and you're still hung up on him," Trey stated. Jo rolled her eyes, unwilling to have this same conversation again. She had just returned to her apartment, remnants of a decapitated vampire in her hair, and was not in the mood to give in to Trey's unrelenting need for justification of his feelings.
"I've told you before, if you're not happy, just leave," Jo sighed, shrugging her jacket off her shoulders and tossing it with little regard to the floor.
Trey sat across her couch, his shoes resting on her cushions. Unimpressed, she declined to comment, hoping that in exchange he would not wish to continue interrogating her about the nature of their relationship. Instead, before he could continue to harp on about Dean, Jo excused herself to the bathroom of the small Duluth apartment she rented, determined to get the gunk out of her hair.
It had been four months since Dean's death. They had been unable to find any solution to his deal. She had not heard from Sam, but she was aware that the younger Winchester had fallen into a dangerous cycle of grief and self-loathing. She had intentionally kept her distance, and told her mother, despite the older woman's reassurances that she could handle the young man, that she should avoid Sam considering his state was, at the very least, quite unstable.
Jo had met Trey in Minneapolis, both of them hunting down a shapeshifter that liked to hop between bars searching for unwilling conquests and then robbing them blind. Trey had been fun and charming, arrogant even. But, he had been a good distraction from her obsessing over all of the 'what-could-have-beens' if Dean had lived. Trey was handsome, not like Dean in the roguish, rugged sense; more in the Ivy League, trust-fund, blonde pain-in-the-ass sense. He had been easy enough to convince to come home with her and seem willing enough to stick around despite Jo's general tendency to push away anyone that showed interest in her in a romantic sense or got to know her on any level that was other than superficial.
Trey did not allow her so easily to escape their conversation when she emerged from the bathroom, apparently determined to have his heart broken by her. He had feelings that Jo simply did not reciprocate. She had told him on several occasions that if he was unhappy, he could leave. He had not done so. For some reason, her refusal to love him as he did her (apparently) seemed to only strengthen his determination to convince her that he could be the man for her.
"JoJo, I can't compete with a dead guy when you won't let him go," Trey insisted, coming to stand behind Jo as she unwrapped a pre-made dinner that looked as entirely unappealing as the conversation they were currently having. Jo stiffened as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "You're not ready to let him go, I get that. But you will be some day."
Jo frowned, "Then why do you keep pushing? If anything, it's just going to take me longer then by that logic. All you're succeeding in doing is pissing me off."
Trey sighed, but did not release her or move away. He groaned, "I don't need to be lectured about my feelings, Jo. Especially not by you."
Jo rolled her eyes, dipping down and underneath the arm that was wrapped around her waist. She chucked the meal into the microwave before turning around, leaning against the bench and crossing her arms defensively over her chest.
"Fine," she stated. "You brought it up - so let's talk about it. Then we are never, ever going to speak of it again."
Trey raised his eyebrows, but nodded. He swallowed, "Might as well get right to it then, hey?"
Jo nodded, "Yep, I suppose."
Trey bit his lip, "Fine. If Dean was alive, and if he came here and asked you to go, you would, wouldn't you? You go with him over me?"
Jo scowled, "He's dead, Trey. He's not going to suddenly reappear and sweep me off my feet. Besides, I don't get swept off my feet."
Trey shook his head, "That doesn't answer my question, JoJo."
"You know I hate that nickname," Jo deflected.
The bleeting of the microwave provided Jo with a momentary reprieve from Trey's unwavering stare. She could see the pain in his eyes, but was too overwhelmed by her own grief to attempt to empathise with his position. She had tried to love him, really, but she could not. Her heart was elsewhere. Actually, it was six feet underground in a body torn apart by hellhounds, and the soul of that body was somewhere even further below that.
"Jo," Trey began. "Just tell me - do you love me or not? Cos I can't hang around for you to decide you might someday want me."
Jo paused. She glared down at the plastic container holding a depressing mush of mashed potatoes, peas and what had been advertised as chicken. She steeled herself for Trey's reaction, but answered with conviction, "I'm sorry, but I can't love you. I tried...but I don't."
Jo stood glared at her meal as she listened to Trey moving around her apartment. He said nothing as he slammed the door behind him, walking briskly and permanently out of her foreseeable future.
X - X - X - X - X
Jo thought she should have mourned Trey's departure more than she did. If nothing else, it proved that she had not loved him. She knew that she had been cruel allowing him to become her distraction, knowing full-well that she was not in any place to put her heart out to caring for someone else, but did not dwell for too long on the past months with him as there was nothing she could do to change what she had already broken. She had sent him a single text, apologising, simply saying, 'I'm sorry'. She did not receive a response and the relationship - if it could even be called such - was done.
It was about eleven at night and Jo was sitting through a regularly schedule re-run of Friday The 13th when her phone buzzed and Bobby's name lit up the small screen. Shifting the popcorn which balanced precariously on her chest, Jo slapped the couch until she grasped the phone, lifting it to her ear as she took a large clutch of popcorn to her mouth.
"Hi Bobby," Jo greeted, smiling while thinking of the grouchy old man. "It's a bit late for an old fella like you to be up."
"Oh, shut up, girl," Bobby grumbled.
Jo laughed, "Sorry. How are you?"
"Girl, you would not believe me if I told you," Bobby bristled.
Jo's brow furrowed. She sat up straighter, causing her popcorn to go tumbling onto the apartment floor.
"Shit," she muttered.
"Everything alright, darlin'?" Bobby asked.
Jo nodded despite him not being able to see the gesture, "Yep, just spilt my popcorn. Was about to ask you the same question though. Everything alright? What's going on?"
"Now, you've got to believe me when I tell you this. You know I would never pull your chain about something as serious as what I'm about to tell you," Bobby insisted.
Jo frowned, "Of course, Bobby. This is real serious then, hey?"
The old man took a deep breath into the phone, his breath a rattle, "Jo, it's Dean."
Jo's heart stuttered, "What about him?"
"He's back, Jo," Bobby explained. "He's busted out of Hell."
Jo said nothing. She swallowed the bile in her throat, "Come on, Bobby-"
"Jo, I'm serious. We're just leaving Pontiac in Illinois. We've got Sam. All three of us-"
Jo heard a muffle complaint and grumbling, following by the familiar hum of the Impala and grizzling as the phone was again lifted to an ear. Jo's heart stopped when she heard the deep, husky voice on the other end of the line, "Hi Jo."
Again, Jo felt herself unable to speak. Despite her sudden anticipation, she was overwhelmed at the familiarity of his voice. He sounded exactly the same, despite the slight life in his tone that Jo might have mistaken for hope if she didn't know him as well as she did.
"Jo, look, it's me, alright-" Dean began.
"Dean?" she interrupted, still not quite believing him. She balled her empty hand into a fist, crushing the popcorn kernels between her fingers.
"Yeah, it's me sweetheart! Live and in the flesh! I look fantastic by the way!"
Jo's hand came to her mouth to keep her from screaming. Her heart pounded in her ears and her face was blushed without him being there to witness it.
"Jo, I promise-"
She heard another muffled groan and a few choice curse words as a third voice greeted her at the other end of the phone, apparently the device beind snatched from Dean's hands. The decidely more calm, more brooding owner of the voice said, "Hey Jo, it's Sam."
"Sam," Jo breathed, her heart thumping dangerously fast against her chest. She hoped to channel his composure. "Sam, what's going on?"
"It is Dean, Jo. I swear to you. I didn't believe it either-"
"He tried to stab me!" Jo heard Dean shout. Jo thought he sounded far to thrilled about the apparent confrontation with his younger brother than he should have been.
Sam groaned, "Yeah, but it is him, Jo. Anyways, we're just leaving Pontiac. We're heading back to Sioux Falls. Come meet us at Bobby's, alright?"
"O-Okay," Jo answered, unable to think of anything more coherent to say. She would seen Dean again. She would look into those beautiful green eyes. This time, though, she might just punch him in the face for breaking her heart.
"Awesome! See you soon, Jo," Sam replied. "It'll be great to see you."
She dropped her phone to her lap, running her shaking hands over her face and through her hair, feeling sweat and hot tears on her skin. All Jo could think about was the last text message that she had received from Dean the night before his deadline arrived. It had haunted her since receiving it, playing over and over again in her head.
'I love you. I'll never forget you. I'm sorry.'
X - X - X - X - X
Jo awoke at five in the morning and could not get back to sleep. Instead, she packed her things and abandoned her apartment, unsure of when she would return. She climbed into the old Jeep that she had bought with her savings from waitressing and barrelled down the highway towards Sioux Falls. Her mind turned over several times, running through all of the things that she wanted to say to Dean, Sam and Bobby when she finally saw them all again. Since Dean's death, she had not seen Sam, and wondered how much the death of his older brother had really burned him. Returning to Bobby's hand been to painful; to many painful, beautiful memories. As for Dean, she wouldn't believe that he was alive until she felt his arms around hers or saw the light in his beautiful green eyes.
It was still mid-morning when Jo arrived in Sioux Falls and pulled into Singer's Scrapyard. Her heartrate tripled and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She saw the glistening Impala situated close to the front door of the house. Pulling her Jeep beside it, Jo brushed her curls out of her face and quickly examined her appearance in the mirror. She noted the dark circles under her eyes, and the shining tears that sat unshed. She could see Bobby standing in the window looking at her. She could no longer avoid the inevitable. The door to the small, ramshackle house swung open. Bobby greeted Jo with a strange, concerned smile that she didn't know how to respond to. Sam appeared into the hallway and wrapped her in his arms.
"Hey Jo," he smiled, his hands rubbing her back. "Good to see you. I'm sorry I haven't...kept in touch."
Jo shook her head, "Don't worry about it. All water under the bridge."
Sam nodded, giving her a smile that signalled he didn't quite believe her.
Dean heard Jo as soon as she arrived, having noted the sound of an approaching vehicle and peering down from the bedroom window in the upper storey of the house. He watched her sitting in the front seat of the car, examining her appearance. He came down the stairs with a pit in his stomach, aware that neither of them had prepared themselves for the interaction that was about to take place, thinking that they would never get the opportunity. He reached the bottom of the stairs that faced the doorway to Bobby's house as Sam pulled away. Jo's eyes met his and she couldn't stop her mouth from falling open. He gave her a warm smile, overwhelmed at the sight of her. He had pictured her many times, the rack unable to make him forget her. It had been Sam's and Jo's names that had helped him keep his resolve for those first thirty years. She looked at him now with the same adoration that she had prior to his death and he dreaded having to tell her what he had done in his servitude of Alastair.
"Hey Jo," Dean grinned at her.
She crossed the room in a matter of strides, her arms thrown tightly around his neck. He heard the gasp leave her body as his own grasp ensconced her, lifting her off her feet. Her hair was longing, tickling the bare skin on his forearms. He ran his hands over her back and then down to the curve of her waist where it met her hips. She felt entirely human, perfect even. As her feet touched the ground, Jo kept her forehead pressed against Dean's chest, breathing in the scent of him. She had no reason to believe that this wasn't Dean. Her Dean. Both Sam and Bobby had tested him and neither would have allowed any mimic of the older Winchester to pester them for the sake of seeing him again, even for a short period of time. This was Dean, alive and well. She felt his hands running through the length of her hair, tangling in the blonde curls, and bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from weeping when she felt him press a single, chaste kiss to the crown of her head.
"We'll give you two a minute," Bobby offered.
Dean swallowed, looking at Sam over the top of Jo's head.
"Take all the time you need," Sam added.
X - X - X - X - X
"I feel like shit," Dean laughed as Jo came into his room.
She shut the door behind her, ensuring that she heard it click before taking small steps towards him. Downstairs, she heard the muffled voices of Sam and Bobby in the kitchen.
She looked Dean over, thinking he appeared everything other than shit. He looked like he had always been, and she decided that her memory had not recalled him as well as she had hoped. Instead of her honest opinion which would have indicated how much she had truly missed him, she decided to go with a suitably snarky, teasing response, "You look the part, sweetheart."
Dean smirked, turning to face her, "Shut up, blondie."
Jo bit her lip. She swallowed, and took the last few steps to close the distance between them. Dean wrapped his arms around her so tightly she felt momentarily constricted in breath. Her eyes stung with the familiar feeling of having him so close. Her hand went to the back of his neck to pull him closer, her other hand feeling the firmness of his skin, confirming that he was indeed standing in front of her, holding her. She clutched his shirt in her fingers as he spoke into her ear, "I missed you...a lot."
She pulled away from him, unable to look him in the eye. He was there, but her heart was still broken. Jo had become resigned to his death and she had begun the process of mourning him, and the life they could have had as a consequence, having compartmentalised their contentious pre-Hell relationship to a past that she would remember fondly but not dwell in for fear of it overwhelming her. Even as he stood holding her, Dean could sense her hesitation. She was glad to see him, had missed him, that he was certain of; but she was also changed. She had lived the past four months with the belief that he was dead, processed it and begun to move on, begun to heal, even if she hadn't realised it as such. Now she was conflicted, just as he was. His feelings for her were unchanged; the unfortunate part was that their timing, even after a death and resurrection coming into their story, remained dubious. Whatever was on the horizon could not be good and he would never forgive himself if Jo were to come to harm for a short-lived painful affair.
She pulled back from him, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, biting her lip. She looked effortlessly beautiful.
"Wrong place, wrong time?" Dean asked tentatively.
Jo gave him a weak, sad smile. He wished to crush the gaping hole of loneliness that existed between them.
"I want to love you so much it hurts," Jo admitted. "And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't, I do, Dean. I do. But Dean...these last few months have been…"
"Hell," Dean finished for her, a surprising level of understanding in his eyes. "You're right, I should have walked away a long time ago."
"Dean, I didn't say that," Jo said, shaking her head.
He gave her a weak smile, "I know. That's not what I meant. I meant from that deal."
Her lips pursed.
"Jo, you didn't deserve that, me telling you something like that and then just, disappearing," he sighed. "You deserved much better, so much better. And I'm sorry."
Jo felt her eyes stinging with tears again. They had reached an impass, both having too much to heal before they could ever attempt to unravel the deep wounds that had festered inside both of them, before they could ever contemplate exploring what was between them. Dean endured what he was about to say, "I'll never be that 'me' I was before Hell again, Jo. You wouldn't want me if you knew-"
Jo shook her head, "You don't have to tell me. You're alive. That's all that I care about. Even if we're not together, knowing that you're out there, that's enough for me. Hell can't change the fact that you always have been, and still are a good man, Dean."
"I'm not so sure," Dean admitted. "I don't know what's coming, but it can't be good."
"We'll figure it out. Tomorrow will be better," Jo agreed, willing herself to believe in the truth of the statement. "Just don't be a stranger, okay? I would actually like to see you more than a couple of times every year."
Dean winked at her, "I'm not going anywhere. Especially not tonight."
He tilted his head in the direction of the bed. Jo nodded, her early-morning wake-up finally catching up with her. For the first time in months, Jo felt hereslf drifting off to sleep without the fear of nightmares overwhelming her. She sensed Dean's arm sliding around her waist, pulling her back against his chest as she finally succumbed to months of heartbreak.