2

I WANT ANSWERS

Jo stood in front of the fireplace next to the couch as Dean's eyes examined her. She'd never seen him look at her that way while she was alive, and didn't know the meaning behind it. He was still dressed in a black shirt and jeans, and looked the same as he did the last time she'd seen him in Carthage.
"Dean? What's going on?" she whispered carefully. Her old hunter skills kicked in, and she scanned the room on instinct. Besides the couch and fireplace, there was an extravagant table off to the side with dining chairs. Next to that was a 1920's style bar that spanned longer than the dining table. "What is this place? Where are we?" she continued to question when he didn't respond. With his classic Winchester smirk, he took a step towards her. It was the way he presented himself that told her something changed within him.

"Hell, Jo. We're in Hell," his gruff voice commented, and he took the nearby fire poker to play with the wood aflame. With a relatively calm demeanor, he glanced at her and waited for her response.

"I know I'm in Hell. Why are you here? Did you die? Are you a demon?" she couldn't hold back the questions. His eyes were cast lower than her face, and she knew he was admiring the outfit. A flash of red appeared on her cheeks, and she couldn't believe he was seeing her in this outfit. Of course, over the years they'd had their moments and flirting. Yet, he never acted on it.

"So many questions…" he drawled. "You'll get your answers in time," he added.

"Get my answers in time? Now you sound like Cas," she said. Dean, or the demon that Jo thought was possessing him, threw his head back and smiled.

"Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time," he pondered, casting her a sideways glance.

"Why are you being so cryptic?" she flat out questioned.

"You want the truth Jo? Sweet Joanna Beth…" he brought a hand to her face, and saw her brown eyes flash to his green ones.

"Y-yes," she anxiously replied.

"I'm not a demon. I'm much more than a lowly demon. I'm the King," he said with pride and an evil grin.

Joanna backed up a few steps, running into the couch. Her frantic eyes looked for the nearest exit, and she was trying to register what Dean just said. Narrowing his eyes, Dean paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"You see, I made a deal. In order to save dear little Sammy, I signed over my soul to Death," he began to explain. Jo gasped and looked up at his pacing form from the couch.

"The Death? As in the horseman?"

"Yes, that Death," he answered impatiently. "Anyways, instead of putting me back on the rack, he sentenced me to fill the vacant position in Hell. The Devil."

"Wait…you're…?"

"The Devil. Satan, antichrist, evil, King of Hell, temptation, the wicked one…Take your pick."

"But…why?" she whispered, tears pricking her eyes and threatening to fall.

"Why? Why? Well for starters…I'm pretty damn good at it. Second, I had to save Sammy…" his eyes cast downwards and Jo saw recognition of hurt in his emerald orbs. "And truthfully, I've been given an opportunity."

"Opportunity?"

"Yes. An opportunity to do things my way. The way all of us hunters wished things worked back when we were topside. Granted, I have a bit of a twisted outlook on things now, but the concept is still the same." Jo stared up at him, and her vision blurred from her tears. He ignored the moisture falling from her eyes and leaned against the mantle of the fireplace.

"What do you want with me?!" she spat out in rage.

"I'm getting there," he said, holding up his hand. "When I made the deal with Death, there were a few strings attached. I had certain…requirements... to fulfill. I've completed everything except for one." He held up his index finger for emphasis. "Hell requires a Queen." Jo's breath hitched in her throat, and suddenly the crazy, red corset felt like it was a giant vice grip compressing her lungs. She could feel her pulse bounding through her body, her heart beat audible in her head. "You, my dear Jo, are the lucky winner," he said in a smooth tone.

"W-what?" she whispered. She watched as that familiar smirk formed on Dean's face, and she was unable to tear herself away from his gaze.

Jo was still speechless as she sat on the couch, and stared into the wide fireplace before her. Dean was silent as he took a seat next to her. Tensing up at his closeness, Jo kept very still. He sighed and turned to face her.

"There's no reason to be afraid of me. You've known me for years," Dean commented in a relaxed voice.

"Not like this. I don't want anything to do with you if you're a part of Hell, much less the new Devil."

"I don't think you've got much of a choice sweetheart," he drawled and looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You're more than welcome to return to the rack," he said louder with an arm outstretched. His eyes flashed red and Jo jumped in surprise at the change. "I picked you. I want you."

"How can you expect me to want you in return when you went from a hunter who saved people to the Devil who tortures for a living?" she asked in exasperation.

"That's not true," his eyes flashed back to their regular green. "Do I torture? Yes. But only to those who really deserve it. I cannot interfere with sentences that were made before I was King, but new arrivals are my decision. I'm not the same person Jo, I know that. It was part of the deal. But I'm not Lucifer, and I never will be," he said with a definitive tone.

"Sir?" Harvey interrupted at the entrance to the grand room.

"What?" Dean mumbled in reply.

"You're needed in the thr-….you're office," the assistant corrected himself and used Dean's new terminology for what Lucifer termed the throne room.

"In a minute," Dean answered, not leaving Jo's eyes. Harvey quickly backed out of the room and shut the door quietly.

"Dean Winchester, what happened to you?" Jo said in a sad voice as she hesitantly touched her hand to his cheek.

"Life," he whispered in reply before abruptly standing to leave.


A/N: I hope y'all like it. I'm glad I gained a few followers! Thinking about changing the title of the story...any suggestions?