Nu (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} quiet_rebel) wrote,@ 2007-09-06 00:13:00 |
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SPN Fics: "Invited" and "One Thousand Apologies"
I wrote the first story in July, but it was begging for a sequel so I held off on posting it until I finished part two. Guess what? I just did. They're both pretty dark. It deals with stuff after season two, basically on what Dean, Sam, and Jo have to give up in order to stay together. You've been warned. Also, forgive me if my mythology doesn't match with the TV show. I tried looking up stuff online, but didn't find anything that helpful.
Anyway, enjoy! I'm a little nervous about this one.
“Invited”
Supernatural
Dean/Jo
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
When the fireflies appeared in Jo’s backyard, so did Dean.
Dozens of golden flecks sparkled around his dark figure. He seemed taller in the night. His board shoulders carried the sky behind him. Dark blond hair brushed against the collar of his black utility jacket, the one with too many pockets.
He stood in front of Jo’s porch, tilted his head, and said, “Hi, Jo.”
She leaned against the doorway with the screen open. “Hi, Dean.”
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“You know you’re invited,” she said. “You don’t have to ask everytime you visit.”
But, she knew he was trying to do the right thing by being polite. It was just that she wasn’t used to Dean and manners.
He nodded and walked up the steps to her. His hands casually brushed her hips as he moved past her and entered her kitchen.
She followed, shutting the screen behind her. She left the wooden door open to let air come in and out of the humid house.
The kitchen was small and tidy. It served its purpose. She could make eggs in the morning and settle in for tea at night. Dean lingered at the island counter with his hands in his coat pockets.
“Have you talked to Sam lately?” Dean asked.
“This morning,” she said. “He’s heading to Knoxville tonight.”
“Knoxville?”
“Hospital patients reported seeing a custodian after hours.”
“Isn’t that his job?”
“Not if that custodian died six months ago.”
“Oh.” Dean lowered his gaze. “He hasn’t said anything about wanting to see me?”
Jo softened her voice. “Not yet. I don’t think he’s ready.”
Dean was silent.
As much as Jo hated playing messenger between the two brothers, at least they were communicating. They hadn’t exactly cut all ties even after what Dean had done.
“How are you, Dean?” Jo asked, her voice still soft. “I mean, how are you, really?”
“Really?” He put his hands on top of the counter and pushed himself back. “I think the real question is where do I start? How about how I gave up my soul for my brother and he turned his back on me?”
Jo flinched at his harsh words.
Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. The air coming through the screen was now cooler, but she didn’t close the door.
“It’s only been a few weeks, Dean,” she said. “Sam isn’t used to it yet.”
“I don’t think he ever will.” He let out a dry chuckle. “Hell, I don’t blame him. If it was Sammy in this position, I’d have a very hard time understanding it too.”
“But, you would understand.” She dropped her arms and stepped towards him. “You’d see why that choice had to be made.”
Dean’s shoulders sagged. “Face it, Jo, no one understands.”
Jo grabbed his arms, digging her nails into the fabric of his coat. “How can you say that?” She gestured to the open door. “Why do you think I keep that open for you every night?” She moved her hands to his chest. It was too quiet there. “Why do you think I let you in at all?”
Dean kissed her forehead. She tried to imagine his lips warm and soft against her skin.
“This is fucked up,” he murmured into her hair.
“I know,” she looked up at him, “and I don’t care.”
He knotted his fingers in her long hair. “I hate this. I fucking this.”
Jo tried to comfort him by rubbing her hand down his back. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine. You and Sam will be fine.” She placed her hands on his shoulders as he lowered his to her waist. “He’ll see, Dean. This is the way things have to be now.”
Dean’s frown only deepened.
“You did it to protect Sam,” she continued. “You saved his life when you made that deal, and now you have the chance to keep on saving him, Dean, because that’s what you do.”
He pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m just so tired.”
“Don’t be.” Her hand curled under his cheek. “You’re not alone in this. You have me.”
He shut his eyes.
“You have me.” Jo stepped away. Her heartbeat accelerated. Sweat formed at her temple. She knew Dean could sense it all--the drumming of her heart, the salty sweat on her skin--and she prepared herself.
“Dean--”
His eyes flew open as his hands shot out and slammed her against a wall. Jo didn’t recoil. Dean’s face tightened as he fought against the demon that wanted to come out. She wanted to touch him again, sooth him, comfort him, but now was not the time.
He stared hard at her, then his expression softened as though he was looking for forgiveness. He didn’t have to ask. Just like with the invitation, he didn’t have to wait for permission. She knew. She understood.
Dean’s grip loosened on her. He buried his head in the crook of her neck. Her fingers threaded through his hair as her body sank into his arms.
It’s okay...it’s okay...it’s okay...
Dean opened his mouth over her beating pulse. His tongue lapped at her sweat. She sighed and fell back against the wall. Dean’s arms wrapped around her torso and connected them at the waist. His knee lodged itself in between her legs. She was trapped, made immobile by his taller, stronger frame. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have tried to escape anyway.
Jo hugged him; her arms locked around Dean. He pushed the hair from her neck, exposing the white skin. He punched a fist into the wall. After all this time, he was still fighting, still resisting, when he knew she had given in long ago.
She touched his face. It was cool under her warm fingers. She brought his head up to look him in the eye. The hazel was darker as though his pupils had dilated. He tried to dip his chin, hide his face, but Jo kept her hand on his cheek so they had to keep looking at each other.
That was when she saw it. The flash of white under his lips. The reminder of what Dean had given up for Sam. A reminder he was going to live with forever.
The first time Jo had seen Dean like this, it was a night like tonight. He had appeared on her back porch after the sun had gone down. His face was weathered, beaten. He shuffled to her like a lost traveler in search of directions.
Jo knew right away something was wrong. Something was different.
“I wanted to kill you that night.” She said the words out loud. Dean kept still, showing her he was listening, and even though he didn’t ask, she answered his unspoken question. “But, I didn’t because you gave me this look.” Her gaze met his. “The same look that’s on your face right now. You didn’t come here to hurt me. You came here for help.” She grabbed onto the lapel of his coat and nudged his head towards hers. “You’re still Dean Winchester, hunter, you got that? And as long as you stay that way, I’ll keep helping you.” She kissed him, deep and hard, her tongue sliding over the sharpened edges inside his mouth.
When they pulled away, Jo lowered her hands to his elbows. She met his gaze one more time and turned her head away. A moment later, Dean’s mouth returned to her neck. She watched flashes of gold light up her yard.
Dean bit down on her skin. Razorsharp teeth sank into her flesh. Jo hissed and stiffened against him. Just a few more seconds. She reminded herself he wasn’t going to hurt her. Dean only took as much as he needed.
Jo began to feel lightheaded. She closed her eyes as Dean continued to feed from her. This was the only way. She had told Dean that, and now she was telling herself those same words. Since that first night, that first invitation, this was the only way. It was better than having Dean out there, where he was a risk, where he could attack anyone if he couldn’t control himself. This way he was safe. Everyone was safe.
Dean had given up his soul. Sam had given up his brother. This was Jo’s sacrifice.
Jo felt her body sway as Dean spun her around. She opened her eyes to find Dean against the wall. His eyes were wide, startled as though he just woke up unexpectingly from a nap, but the normal hazy shade of gold and brown had returned. He raised his hand. His mouthful of sharp teeth had receded. He swallowed and frowned. Blood still lingered at the corner of his mouth. With a quick wipe, it was gone. And so was the monster inside him.
Relief overcame Jo. Her knees gave out from under her and she collapsed into Dean’s arms.
“Jo.” His voice was urgent as he hoisted her up into his arms and placed her on top of the kitchen counter. She could feel her warm sticky blood trickle down her neck. The routine began.
Dean rushed under the sink to retrieve the first aid kit. He poured antiseptic on the wound. Jo grimaced as it burned. Dean quickly covered it with white gauze. He held it down and applied pressure to her neck. As he stood over her, Jo thought the fluorescent light on the ceiling made him glow.
“Are you all right?” Jo’s voice was just a whisper.
His free hand stroked her cheek. He didn’t say anything.
She tried to sit up, but Dean’s hand stopped her. She pushed it away and swung her legs over the counter. He kept the gauze on her neck.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, and she supposed that was Dean’s answer too.
Jo lifted her hand to her neck and placed it over Dean’s. He released his hold and let her take over on tending her wound. The wound he had caused.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “By tomorrow, it’ll be just another scar.”
And there would be more to come. Every evening he walked through her door, the collection would grow.
Jo looked Dean over. Color had returned to his face. She realized it wasn’t the kitchen light that made him glow; he really was glowing. For a second, he looked like himself again. Human. Alive. Dean with a soul. Not the Dean who had slipped through the cracks with the deal he had made with crossroads demon and had managed to live forever instead.
She almost wanted to cry at that fact, but she didn’t.
This was the way things were now. This was the only way.
Dean’s gaze shifted to the open door.
“I’ll be fine,” she said again.
He touched her face again. She leaned into his palm.
“Thank you,” he said.
And Jo knew he meant it.
When he lowered his hand, she asked, “Is there anything you want me to tell Sam?”
Dean took a moment to reply. “Tell him I’ll be here when he’s ready.”
“I will.”
His lips found her forehead once more, and this time, Jo didn’t have to imagine--his lips were warm and soft. Her eyes fluttered shut and she let out a small sigh.
Dean’s touch faded, but it wasn’t until the screen door bang that Jo opened her eyes. She jumped down from the counter and went to the door to watch Dean disappear into the night. Tiny gold flashes followed him out.
When he was gone from her sight, Jo finally moved from the screen. A gust of wind blew in through the open door reminding her she needed to shut it.
She didn’t.
THE END
“One Thousand Apologies”
Supernatural
Sam, Dean, Jo
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
Sam never bothered to ask Jo about the turtlenecks she wore in the middle of July. He never questioned why her muscles strained every time they chased and hunted. He only waited patiently for to catch her breath before they continued.
But, when she collapsed in the forest, rifle in hand and sweat trickling down the side of her head, he finally had to ask: "When was the last time you saw Dean?"
She laid there in the dirt for a moment. He didn’t try to help her up.
Sam crouched down next to her. “How long has this been going on, Jo?”
She turned her head, avoiding his glare.
“Tell me,” he said.
Jo sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. “You don’t understand.”
Not understand?
Sam held back the angry words that wanted to spew out his mouth. Instead, he rose and rubbed his jaw. A heavy feeling set inside the pit of his stomach. He dropped the rifle he held and grabbed Jo instead. He hauled her up to her feet and pulled down the turtleneck. A fresh scar was still healing where the bite marks had been.
Jo shoved him away. “Fuck you, Sam.” She touched her neck as though his touch had somehow tarnished the mark.
Sam stared at her. “Every time he feeds from you, he's getting stronger, not you.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” she said softly.
Sam wanted to tell her he understood. All he wanted was for Dean to be Dean again. He wanted the Impala speeding down the highway with Metallica playing from the tape deck. He wanted stupid jokes, greasy cheeseburgers, and lame pick-up lines.
Most of all, he wanted to see another morning with Dean.
Sam could never have those things again. Not with this Dean.
He picked up his rifle. “Go back to the car. I’ll take care of this.”
Jo didn’t argue as he turned his back and walked away.
**
When Sam returned to the car, Jo was just a shadow slumped in the passenger’s seat. He tossed the rifle into the trunk and went up front. As he settled in behind the wheel, he heard the sniffling coming from beside him.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this, Jo.”
She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for him.” His jaw clenched. “Don’t take responsibility for his actions.”
“He never asked,” she said. “It was me. I offered.” She turned to look at him. “It’s the only way I know he’ll be safe.”
“He’s a monster.” The words were hollow.
Jo leaned over. “No, he isn’t. If you’d only just see him once, Sam, you’d know it was Dean.”
“I can’t. I’m not ready,” he said, shaking his head.
“You keep putting this off then you’ll never get to see him.”
Sam let out a dry laugh. “I don’t see how that’s going to be a problem. He’s going to live forever. Traded his soul to become a bloodsucker.”
Jo’s palm smacked his cheek. His head whipped back. Dazed and his cheek stinging, he looked at her, eyes wide.
She pointed her index finger at her. “He did it for you.”
Gave up his soul twice in order to save his baby brother.
Sam’s eyes welled up with tears. He had never felt so helpless before.
Jo touched his face again, this time gently. She cupped his chin and lifted his head until their eyes met. They were both dark pools.
“I’m scared for him,” Sam said, his voice trembling.
A tear slid down Jo’s cheek. “I know.”
“I don’t want to do it.”
I don’t want to kill him.
Whether or not Jo understood, she said the words again, “I know,” and wrapped her arms around him. He fell forward into her. Her body was warm, soft, alive. No wonder Dean craved her.
Sam nuzzled his face into her covered neck, buried his nose into her pulse. It made him ache.
He wasn’t any better than Dean.
“Sam…”
He rose up and placed his lips against Jo’s mouth. Her body went rigid. It wasn’t until his hands reached under her shirt that she finally relaxed.
Sam pressed her against the window, legs open, and mouths connected.
Jo gave in to him. She gave in to him like she did with his brother.
**
When it was over, it was over.
Sam zipped up his pants and moved back to the driver’s side of the car. Jo pulled her shirt over her head and tucked her hair behind her ears.
“I need you, Jo.” He didn’t look at her.
“That's all I want.” Her voice was like sandpaper. “Another Winchester who needs me.”
**
The first thing Sam noticed in Jo’s backyard were the tiny golden orbs flying in circles around the darkness. Jo walked through them as though they weren’t there.
At her screen door, Sam paused.
Jo turned to him. “He does that too. Waits for me to invite him in.” She tilted her head. “Do you want to come in, Sam?”
He tried not to think about Dean walking into Jo’s home, tried not to think about how much Jo loved Dean--enough to bleed for him over and over again.
“I should go,” Sam said, turning.
“He’s going to be here tomorrow night,” Jo said.
He looked back at her. A part of him was startled at the news; a bigger part of him had expected it.
Jo chewed on her bottom lip. “You should be here too.”
Sam didn’t accept or refuse the invitation. He just stepped into her yard and made a pathway through the fireflies as he left.
**
The next night there were more fireflies gathered in Jo’s yard. Sam watched the cloud of lights flash on and off. His gaze followed them as they moved to Jo’s screen door.
It was open.
Sam saw two figures move inside the house. Jo came into view. Her eyes were focused on something in front of her. Someone in front of her. She took a step back until she hit the island counter in the middle of her kitchen.
Her mouth moved.
“Dean.”
A flash of dark blond hair and a long jacket crept into Sam’s vision. It was Dean. Not Dean.
His lean hands reached for Jo. She didn’t move, didn’t run; her face softened as she exposed her neck.
She wore no turtleneck tonight.
Sam knew this was wrong. He couldn’t stand there and watch Dean feed from Jo, but at the same time, his curiosity took control like a slow fever. He had to watch in order to understand. This was how Dean lived now. This was his brother. This was the choice Dean made.
“He did it for you.”
Jo’s words came back to him like her slap to the face.
This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come here tonight.
Sam staggered backwards, but his gaze never left Dean’s face locked in the curve of Jo’s neck. How Jo’s arms were wrapped around Dean. Her eyes shut. Her face pinched. Did it hurt? She bit down on her lip. Did she enjoy this?
Sam moved closer until he was on the other side of the screen door. Neither Dean nor Jo noticed him.
“Dean,” Jo whispered.
Dean’s arms around Jo’s waist tightened. He growled.
Sam flinched at the noise.
“Dean.” Jo’s voice rose with urgency. Her eyes flew open. “Dean.” She tried to push him away, but Dean’s hold on her never loosened.
Sam charged at him. Jo cried out as he knocked Dean to the other side of the kitchen. Dean slumped to the ground.
With a sneer, Dean looked up at Sam. His eyes were dark, angry, hungry. He licked his crimson lips.
“Sam.” Dean hissed his name. His lips were still curled, enough to show Sam his mouthful of teeth.
Sharp, sharp teeth.
Sam grabbed the butcher knife from the wooden block on the counter. His fingers wrapped around the black handle. He waved the blade at Dean.
"Go ahead. Do it." Dean's dark eyes challenged him.
He could do this. Kill his brother. Cain did it, so could Sam.
A memory hurdled towards the front of Sam’s mind. A hazy image of Dean pointing a gun at Sam. Another knife in Sam’s hand. Jo bound and gagged against a pole.
No matter how much Sam--no, that wasn’t me--no matter how much he wanted Dean to fire that gun, he never did. All Dean wanted was for Sam to come home, to save him.
Even though he was a monster.
No, that wasn’t me.
Sam lowered the knife.
Dean’s face twisted. He groaned as he clutched his stomach.
“Dean.” Sam fell beside him. The hazel returned to Dean’s eyes. His mouth was no longer filled with jagged teeth. The sneer on his face was gone.
Dean looked up at him, a little tired-looking, a little bit like his former self. “Sammy.”
This wasn’t a monster looking at him. This was his brother.
Dean’s eyes widened. “Jo.”
Both of them turned to find Jo laying on her side on the tiled floor. A pool of blood spilled from her neck, turning her blond hair scarlet.
Dean had taken too much. Let the monster loose for a minute too long.
As Sam cradled Jo in his lap, Dean searched under the kitchen sink. He returned with a first aid kit. He moved like he had done this many times. There was gauze, antiseptic, and bandages.
Jo murmured something.
Sam brushed the hair from her hot forehead. “It’s gonna be okay, Jo, gonna be okay.”
She arched her back and pushed herself more into Sam. “I can’t--I can’t feel--”
Sam could feel herself weakening. There was so much blood. Her blood. He glared at Dean. “Do something.”
With gauze in his hands, Dean applied pressure to Jo’s neck. The material still seeped red.
“Do something,” Sam said again, but this time, he wasn’t talking about the first aid kit.
Dean dropped his hand from Jo, understanding. His gaze met Jo’s. They both understood. Sam handed Jo’s limp body to Dean. Jo’s small hand grabbed a fistful of Sam’s shirt. She held on as Dean placed her on his lap.
“I’m sorry.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry…so sorry, Jo…sorry…”
One thousand apologies escaped his lips.
Sam turned away as Dean lowered his head back to Jo’s bleeding neck. Jo’s hand tightened on Sam’s shirt. Five fingers round in a fist. Sam grabbed onto it, interlaced their fingers. She held on strong. It was just for a moment.
And then, the moment passed.
**
When it was over, it was over.
Sam felt Jo squeeze his hand. He lifted his head and saw that Jo was awake in bed, a sleepy look in her eyes, but she was awake.
She was still here.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” Her voice was hoarse.
“How do you feel?”
She cracked a smile. “Like I just came back from the dead.”
Sam frowned at her joke.
“Come on, Sam.” She squeezed his hand again. “It’s still me.”
Sam didn’t know whether to be scared or relived.
“Why did you do it?” she asked, looking at their conjoined hands.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I don’t know. I just--knew we couldn’t lose you.” His gaze darted from his hands to her eyes. She was looking at him now. “I couldn’t lose you.”
She gave him a genuine smile. “Sam…”
“You should get some rest.” He cut in before she could continue. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Not now when it was too late.
He rose from the chair. From the corner of his eye, he saw another figure move. Dean stood in the doorway. A shadow of himself.
“It’s okay,” Sam said, stepping aside.
Dean still hesitated.
“You can come in,” Jo said.
That’s right. He needed to hear that invitation.
Dean entered. He glanced from Sam to Jo. His face was clouded with shame, guilt. He didn’t say anything as he walked to the bed. He held out his hand. Jo took a hold of his fingers and guided him down to lay them beside her. He tucked one arm around Jo, the other around her waist.
They held each other as one.
They would walk this world as one.
Forever.
Mates for life.
Something inside Sam shattered.
He walked out of the room, his hand on the knob. He turned back once more to look at Dean and Jo in bed together. They looked so content, settled, like they had been doing this for a long time now.
He left the door open.
Back in the kitchen, Sam saw the blood on the white tiles. He found a towel, wet it under the faucet, got down on his knees and began to scrub. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his hands were raw and the stain was gone. Like it had never happened.
He closed his eyes, but he could still see Dean’s mouth covered in Jo’s blood as he drank. The small gasp from her lips before terror took over.
It had happened.
Sam got on his feet, washed his hands, and looked out the window. The tiny golden orbs that had lit up the black sky were now a diminishing glow in the early morning. A hard knot formed in his chest. It was a sob he wouldn’t release.
Instead, he sighed and went back to the bedroom. The door was still open. Dean’s hand was on Jo’s face. She had her eyes closed, but she smiled when his fingers brushed her cheek.
Sam found himself moving to the bed. He climbed in behind Jo. Her back molded into his chest. The knot inside uncoiled.
“Sam,” Jo whispered with her eyes still closed.
He lifted his gaze and met Dean’s stern expression. Sam didn’t know if that was his brother’s silent challenge, but he accepted it anyway. Anything he had to do to keep her safe--to keep the both of them safe.
Sam draped his arm around Jo on top of Dean’s already-placed arm. In between them, Jo finally opened her eyes. They were color of dark chocolate. Her faced turned pale.
“Dean.” Large incisors appeared in her mouth. Her body shook. “Dean.”
His eyes narrowed with concern. “Shh…” He brushed his hand through her hair. “Shh…” He looked up at Sam. “What do you want to do?”
Jo moaned. She was changing, turning, hungry and thirsty.
“It’s still me.”
“I want to help her,” Sam said.
Dean sat up. He took a hold of Jo’s head and gently turned it, angling it into the right position. Sam ignored his racing heartbeat and the thoughts flooding his head.
You can still turn this around. End it right now. For everyone.
But, he couldn’t. No, this was only the beginning.
With Dean’s hand guiding her, Jo’s wet mouth found Sam’s neck. She pressed her lips below his pulse. Her hands clutched the back of his head. At first, it was just a prick like a needle inserting itself into his finger. Then, Jo began to feed. His toes curled inside his boots. His lips tightened.
“Fuck,” he gasped.
“Take it easy, Jo,” Dean said, his finger running through her hair.
Jo followed his instructions. Her tongue was warm lapping on Sam’s neck. His toes uncurled and he sighed. A tingling sensation went up and down his body. He felt like he was floating on a cloud. Now, he knew how Jo had felt like when Dean had fed from her--and why she had allowed him to do so.
“That’s enough.” Dean pulled Jo away. She whimpered and clawed at Sam. Dean held her hands down. “I said enough.”
Disoriented, Sam fell back on the pillows. He touched the wound on his neck. It wasn’t too deep. A little messy, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a few days.
He would need a turtleneck to cover up the scar.
Dean stood on Sam’s side of the bed with a towel in hand. “Here.”
Sam placed it on his neck. Next to him, Jo laid on her back, her gaze on the ceiling. Her new teeth had retracted and her eyes were now a warm honey brown.
“I’m so sorry, Sam.” She blurted the words out before she covered her mouth with her hands. Tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry.”
He sank down next to her. “Look at me.”
She turned her gaze to him.
“It’s okay,” he said.
She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and repeating his words. “It’s okay.”
Sam rested his head on her shoulder. She smelled like the ground after a rainfall, where new life could spring again.
The mattress sagged as Dean returned to his place on the other side of Jo. Sam met his gaze again.
Thank you, they both said silently.
Dean brushed his lips against Jo’s before settling in beside her. He closed his eyes.
Jo looked at Sam again. Her eyes were dry now, but that didn’t matter. The room was still heavy with their sorrow, their despair.
Sam nodded his head. I know.
Jo closed her eyes.
Sam watched the two of them. Jo and Dean. Dean and Jo.
How was he going to fit into this?
Jo grabbed his hand and brought it up to her chest. Dean’s hand was already there.
That was when Sam realized he did fit; he was the piece that had started it all.
Jo and Dean. Dean and Jo.
Jo and Dean and Sam.
They held each other as one.
They would walk this world as one.
Forever.
Mates for life.
Sam closed his eyes.
THE END
I wrote the first story in July, but it was begging for a sequel so I held off on posting it until I finished part two. Guess what? I just did. They're both pretty dark. It deals with stuff after season two, basically on what Dean, Sam, and Jo have to give up in order to stay together. You've been warned. Also, forgive me if my mythology doesn't match with the TV show. I tried looking up stuff online, but didn't find anything that helpful.
Anyway, enjoy! I'm a little nervous about this one.
“Invited”
Supernatural
Dean/Jo
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
When the fireflies appeared in Jo’s backyard, so did Dean.
Dozens of golden flecks sparkled around his dark figure. He seemed taller in the night. His board shoulders carried the sky behind him. Dark blond hair brushed against the collar of his black utility jacket, the one with too many pockets.
He stood in front of Jo’s porch, tilted his head, and said, “Hi, Jo.”
She leaned against the doorway with the screen open. “Hi, Dean.”
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“You know you’re invited,” she said. “You don’t have to ask everytime you visit.”
But, she knew he was trying to do the right thing by being polite. It was just that she wasn’t used to Dean and manners.
He nodded and walked up the steps to her. His hands casually brushed her hips as he moved past her and entered her kitchen.
She followed, shutting the screen behind her. She left the wooden door open to let air come in and out of the humid house.
The kitchen was small and tidy. It served its purpose. She could make eggs in the morning and settle in for tea at night. Dean lingered at the island counter with his hands in his coat pockets.
“Have you talked to Sam lately?” Dean asked.
“This morning,” she said. “He’s heading to Knoxville tonight.”
“Knoxville?”
“Hospital patients reported seeing a custodian after hours.”
“Isn’t that his job?”
“Not if that custodian died six months ago.”
“Oh.” Dean lowered his gaze. “He hasn’t said anything about wanting to see me?”
Jo softened her voice. “Not yet. I don’t think he’s ready.”
Dean was silent.
As much as Jo hated playing messenger between the two brothers, at least they were communicating. They hadn’t exactly cut all ties even after what Dean had done.
“How are you, Dean?” Jo asked, her voice still soft. “I mean, how are you, really?”
“Really?” He put his hands on top of the counter and pushed himself back. “I think the real question is where do I start? How about how I gave up my soul for my brother and he turned his back on me?”
Jo flinched at his harsh words.
Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. The air coming through the screen was now cooler, but she didn’t close the door.
“It’s only been a few weeks, Dean,” she said. “Sam isn’t used to it yet.”
“I don’t think he ever will.” He let out a dry chuckle. “Hell, I don’t blame him. If it was Sammy in this position, I’d have a very hard time understanding it too.”
“But, you would understand.” She dropped her arms and stepped towards him. “You’d see why that choice had to be made.”
Dean’s shoulders sagged. “Face it, Jo, no one understands.”
Jo grabbed his arms, digging her nails into the fabric of his coat. “How can you say that?” She gestured to the open door. “Why do you think I keep that open for you every night?” She moved her hands to his chest. It was too quiet there. “Why do you think I let you in at all?”
Dean kissed her forehead. She tried to imagine his lips warm and soft against her skin.
“This is fucked up,” he murmured into her hair.
“I know,” she looked up at him, “and I don’t care.”
He knotted his fingers in her long hair. “I hate this. I fucking this.”
Jo tried to comfort him by rubbing her hand down his back. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine. You and Sam will be fine.” She placed her hands on his shoulders as he lowered his to her waist. “He’ll see, Dean. This is the way things have to be now.”
Dean’s frown only deepened.
“You did it to protect Sam,” she continued. “You saved his life when you made that deal, and now you have the chance to keep on saving him, Dean, because that’s what you do.”
He pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m just so tired.”
“Don’t be.” Her hand curled under his cheek. “You’re not alone in this. You have me.”
He shut his eyes.
“You have me.” Jo stepped away. Her heartbeat accelerated. Sweat formed at her temple. She knew Dean could sense it all--the drumming of her heart, the salty sweat on her skin--and she prepared herself.
“Dean--”
His eyes flew open as his hands shot out and slammed her against a wall. Jo didn’t recoil. Dean’s face tightened as he fought against the demon that wanted to come out. She wanted to touch him again, sooth him, comfort him, but now was not the time.
He stared hard at her, then his expression softened as though he was looking for forgiveness. He didn’t have to ask. Just like with the invitation, he didn’t have to wait for permission. She knew. She understood.
Dean’s grip loosened on her. He buried his head in the crook of her neck. Her fingers threaded through his hair as her body sank into his arms.
It’s okay...it’s okay...it’s okay...
Dean opened his mouth over her beating pulse. His tongue lapped at her sweat. She sighed and fell back against the wall. Dean’s arms wrapped around her torso and connected them at the waist. His knee lodged itself in between her legs. She was trapped, made immobile by his taller, stronger frame. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have tried to escape anyway.
Jo hugged him; her arms locked around Dean. He pushed the hair from her neck, exposing the white skin. He punched a fist into the wall. After all this time, he was still fighting, still resisting, when he knew she had given in long ago.
She touched his face. It was cool under her warm fingers. She brought his head up to look him in the eye. The hazel was darker as though his pupils had dilated. He tried to dip his chin, hide his face, but Jo kept her hand on his cheek so they had to keep looking at each other.
That was when she saw it. The flash of white under his lips. The reminder of what Dean had given up for Sam. A reminder he was going to live with forever.
The first time Jo had seen Dean like this, it was a night like tonight. He had appeared on her back porch after the sun had gone down. His face was weathered, beaten. He shuffled to her like a lost traveler in search of directions.
Jo knew right away something was wrong. Something was different.
“I wanted to kill you that night.” She said the words out loud. Dean kept still, showing her he was listening, and even though he didn’t ask, she answered his unspoken question. “But, I didn’t because you gave me this look.” Her gaze met his. “The same look that’s on your face right now. You didn’t come here to hurt me. You came here for help.” She grabbed onto the lapel of his coat and nudged his head towards hers. “You’re still Dean Winchester, hunter, you got that? And as long as you stay that way, I’ll keep helping you.” She kissed him, deep and hard, her tongue sliding over the sharpened edges inside his mouth.
When they pulled away, Jo lowered her hands to his elbows. She met his gaze one more time and turned her head away. A moment later, Dean’s mouth returned to her neck. She watched flashes of gold light up her yard.
Dean bit down on her skin. Razorsharp teeth sank into her flesh. Jo hissed and stiffened against him. Just a few more seconds. She reminded herself he wasn’t going to hurt her. Dean only took as much as he needed.
Jo began to feel lightheaded. She closed her eyes as Dean continued to feed from her. This was the only way. She had told Dean that, and now she was telling herself those same words. Since that first night, that first invitation, this was the only way. It was better than having Dean out there, where he was a risk, where he could attack anyone if he couldn’t control himself. This way he was safe. Everyone was safe.
Dean had given up his soul. Sam had given up his brother. This was Jo’s sacrifice.
Jo felt her body sway as Dean spun her around. She opened her eyes to find Dean against the wall. His eyes were wide, startled as though he just woke up unexpectingly from a nap, but the normal hazy shade of gold and brown had returned. He raised his hand. His mouthful of sharp teeth had receded. He swallowed and frowned. Blood still lingered at the corner of his mouth. With a quick wipe, it was gone. And so was the monster inside him.
Relief overcame Jo. Her knees gave out from under her and she collapsed into Dean’s arms.
“Jo.” His voice was urgent as he hoisted her up into his arms and placed her on top of the kitchen counter. She could feel her warm sticky blood trickle down her neck. The routine began.
Dean rushed under the sink to retrieve the first aid kit. He poured antiseptic on the wound. Jo grimaced as it burned. Dean quickly covered it with white gauze. He held it down and applied pressure to her neck. As he stood over her, Jo thought the fluorescent light on the ceiling made him glow.
“Are you all right?” Jo’s voice was just a whisper.
His free hand stroked her cheek. He didn’t say anything.
She tried to sit up, but Dean’s hand stopped her. She pushed it away and swung her legs over the counter. He kept the gauze on her neck.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, and she supposed that was Dean’s answer too.
Jo lifted her hand to her neck and placed it over Dean’s. He released his hold and let her take over on tending her wound. The wound he had caused.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “By tomorrow, it’ll be just another scar.”
And there would be more to come. Every evening he walked through her door, the collection would grow.
Jo looked Dean over. Color had returned to his face. She realized it wasn’t the kitchen light that made him glow; he really was glowing. For a second, he looked like himself again. Human. Alive. Dean with a soul. Not the Dean who had slipped through the cracks with the deal he had made with crossroads demon and had managed to live forever instead.
She almost wanted to cry at that fact, but she didn’t.
This was the way things were now. This was the only way.
Dean’s gaze shifted to the open door.
“I’ll be fine,” she said again.
He touched her face again. She leaned into his palm.
“Thank you,” he said.
And Jo knew he meant it.
When he lowered his hand, she asked, “Is there anything you want me to tell Sam?”
Dean took a moment to reply. “Tell him I’ll be here when he’s ready.”
“I will.”
His lips found her forehead once more, and this time, Jo didn’t have to imagine--his lips were warm and soft. Her eyes fluttered shut and she let out a small sigh.
Dean’s touch faded, but it wasn’t until the screen door bang that Jo opened her eyes. She jumped down from the counter and went to the door to watch Dean disappear into the night. Tiny gold flashes followed him out.
When he was gone from her sight, Jo finally moved from the screen. A gust of wind blew in through the open door reminding her she needed to shut it.
She didn’t.
THE END
“One Thousand Apologies”
Supernatural
Sam, Dean, Jo
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
Sam never bothered to ask Jo about the turtlenecks she wore in the middle of July. He never questioned why her muscles strained every time they chased and hunted. He only waited patiently for to catch her breath before they continued.
But, when she collapsed in the forest, rifle in hand and sweat trickling down the side of her head, he finally had to ask: "When was the last time you saw Dean?"
She laid there in the dirt for a moment. He didn’t try to help her up.
Sam crouched down next to her. “How long has this been going on, Jo?”
She turned her head, avoiding his glare.
“Tell me,” he said.
Jo sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. “You don’t understand.”
Not understand?
Sam held back the angry words that wanted to spew out his mouth. Instead, he rose and rubbed his jaw. A heavy feeling set inside the pit of his stomach. He dropped the rifle he held and grabbed Jo instead. He hauled her up to her feet and pulled down the turtleneck. A fresh scar was still healing where the bite marks had been.
Jo shoved him away. “Fuck you, Sam.” She touched her neck as though his touch had somehow tarnished the mark.
Sam stared at her. “Every time he feeds from you, he's getting stronger, not you.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” she said softly.
Sam wanted to tell her he understood. All he wanted was for Dean to be Dean again. He wanted the Impala speeding down the highway with Metallica playing from the tape deck. He wanted stupid jokes, greasy cheeseburgers, and lame pick-up lines.
Most of all, he wanted to see another morning with Dean.
Sam could never have those things again. Not with this Dean.
He picked up his rifle. “Go back to the car. I’ll take care of this.”
Jo didn’t argue as he turned his back and walked away.
**
When Sam returned to the car, Jo was just a shadow slumped in the passenger’s seat. He tossed the rifle into the trunk and went up front. As he settled in behind the wheel, he heard the sniffling coming from beside him.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this, Jo.”
She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for him.” His jaw clenched. “Don’t take responsibility for his actions.”
“He never asked,” she said. “It was me. I offered.” She turned to look at him. “It’s the only way I know he’ll be safe.”
“He’s a monster.” The words were hollow.
Jo leaned over. “No, he isn’t. If you’d only just see him once, Sam, you’d know it was Dean.”
“I can’t. I’m not ready,” he said, shaking his head.
“You keep putting this off then you’ll never get to see him.”
Sam let out a dry laugh. “I don’t see how that’s going to be a problem. He’s going to live forever. Traded his soul to become a bloodsucker.”
Jo’s palm smacked his cheek. His head whipped back. Dazed and his cheek stinging, he looked at her, eyes wide.
She pointed her index finger at her. “He did it for you.”
Gave up his soul twice in order to save his baby brother.
Sam’s eyes welled up with tears. He had never felt so helpless before.
Jo touched his face again, this time gently. She cupped his chin and lifted his head until their eyes met. They were both dark pools.
“I’m scared for him,” Sam said, his voice trembling.
A tear slid down Jo’s cheek. “I know.”
“I don’t want to do it.”
I don’t want to kill him.
Whether or not Jo understood, she said the words again, “I know,” and wrapped her arms around him. He fell forward into her. Her body was warm, soft, alive. No wonder Dean craved her.
Sam nuzzled his face into her covered neck, buried his nose into her pulse. It made him ache.
He wasn’t any better than Dean.
“Sam…”
He rose up and placed his lips against Jo’s mouth. Her body went rigid. It wasn’t until his hands reached under her shirt that she finally relaxed.
Sam pressed her against the window, legs open, and mouths connected.
Jo gave in to him. She gave in to him like she did with his brother.
**
When it was over, it was over.
Sam zipped up his pants and moved back to the driver’s side of the car. Jo pulled her shirt over her head and tucked her hair behind her ears.
“I need you, Jo.” He didn’t look at her.
“That's all I want.” Her voice was like sandpaper. “Another Winchester who needs me.”
**
The first thing Sam noticed in Jo’s backyard were the tiny golden orbs flying in circles around the darkness. Jo walked through them as though they weren’t there.
At her screen door, Sam paused.
Jo turned to him. “He does that too. Waits for me to invite him in.” She tilted her head. “Do you want to come in, Sam?”
He tried not to think about Dean walking into Jo’s home, tried not to think about how much Jo loved Dean--enough to bleed for him over and over again.
“I should go,” Sam said, turning.
“He’s going to be here tomorrow night,” Jo said.
He looked back at her. A part of him was startled at the news; a bigger part of him had expected it.
Jo chewed on her bottom lip. “You should be here too.”
Sam didn’t accept or refuse the invitation. He just stepped into her yard and made a pathway through the fireflies as he left.
**
The next night there were more fireflies gathered in Jo’s yard. Sam watched the cloud of lights flash on and off. His gaze followed them as they moved to Jo’s screen door.
It was open.
Sam saw two figures move inside the house. Jo came into view. Her eyes were focused on something in front of her. Someone in front of her. She took a step back until she hit the island counter in the middle of her kitchen.
Her mouth moved.
“Dean.”
A flash of dark blond hair and a long jacket crept into Sam’s vision. It was Dean. Not Dean.
His lean hands reached for Jo. She didn’t move, didn’t run; her face softened as she exposed her neck.
She wore no turtleneck tonight.
Sam knew this was wrong. He couldn’t stand there and watch Dean feed from Jo, but at the same time, his curiosity took control like a slow fever. He had to watch in order to understand. This was how Dean lived now. This was his brother. This was the choice Dean made.
“He did it for you.”
Jo’s words came back to him like her slap to the face.
This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come here tonight.
Sam staggered backwards, but his gaze never left Dean’s face locked in the curve of Jo’s neck. How Jo’s arms were wrapped around Dean. Her eyes shut. Her face pinched. Did it hurt? She bit down on her lip. Did she enjoy this?
Sam moved closer until he was on the other side of the screen door. Neither Dean nor Jo noticed him.
“Dean,” Jo whispered.
Dean’s arms around Jo’s waist tightened. He growled.
Sam flinched at the noise.
“Dean.” Jo’s voice rose with urgency. Her eyes flew open. “Dean.” She tried to push him away, but Dean’s hold on her never loosened.
Sam charged at him. Jo cried out as he knocked Dean to the other side of the kitchen. Dean slumped to the ground.
With a sneer, Dean looked up at Sam. His eyes were dark, angry, hungry. He licked his crimson lips.
“Sam.” Dean hissed his name. His lips were still curled, enough to show Sam his mouthful of teeth.
Sharp, sharp teeth.
Sam grabbed the butcher knife from the wooden block on the counter. His fingers wrapped around the black handle. He waved the blade at Dean.
"Go ahead. Do it." Dean's dark eyes challenged him.
He could do this. Kill his brother. Cain did it, so could Sam.
A memory hurdled towards the front of Sam’s mind. A hazy image of Dean pointing a gun at Sam. Another knife in Sam’s hand. Jo bound and gagged against a pole.
No matter how much Sam--no, that wasn’t me--no matter how much he wanted Dean to fire that gun, he never did. All Dean wanted was for Sam to come home, to save him.
Even though he was a monster.
No, that wasn’t me.
Sam lowered the knife.
Dean’s face twisted. He groaned as he clutched his stomach.
“Dean.” Sam fell beside him. The hazel returned to Dean’s eyes. His mouth was no longer filled with jagged teeth. The sneer on his face was gone.
Dean looked up at him, a little tired-looking, a little bit like his former self. “Sammy.”
This wasn’t a monster looking at him. This was his brother.
Dean’s eyes widened. “Jo.”
Both of them turned to find Jo laying on her side on the tiled floor. A pool of blood spilled from her neck, turning her blond hair scarlet.
Dean had taken too much. Let the monster loose for a minute too long.
As Sam cradled Jo in his lap, Dean searched under the kitchen sink. He returned with a first aid kit. He moved like he had done this many times. There was gauze, antiseptic, and bandages.
Jo murmured something.
Sam brushed the hair from her hot forehead. “It’s gonna be okay, Jo, gonna be okay.”
She arched her back and pushed herself more into Sam. “I can’t--I can’t feel--”
Sam could feel herself weakening. There was so much blood. Her blood. He glared at Dean. “Do something.”
With gauze in his hands, Dean applied pressure to Jo’s neck. The material still seeped red.
“Do something,” Sam said again, but this time, he wasn’t talking about the first aid kit.
Dean dropped his hand from Jo, understanding. His gaze met Jo’s. They both understood. Sam handed Jo’s limp body to Dean. Jo’s small hand grabbed a fistful of Sam’s shirt. She held on as Dean placed her on his lap.
“I’m sorry.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry…so sorry, Jo…sorry…”
One thousand apologies escaped his lips.
Sam turned away as Dean lowered his head back to Jo’s bleeding neck. Jo’s hand tightened on Sam’s shirt. Five fingers round in a fist. Sam grabbed onto it, interlaced their fingers. She held on strong. It was just for a moment.
And then, the moment passed.
**
When it was over, it was over.
Sam felt Jo squeeze his hand. He lifted his head and saw that Jo was awake in bed, a sleepy look in her eyes, but she was awake.
She was still here.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” Her voice was hoarse.
“How do you feel?”
She cracked a smile. “Like I just came back from the dead.”
Sam frowned at her joke.
“Come on, Sam.” She squeezed his hand again. “It’s still me.”
Sam didn’t know whether to be scared or relived.
“Why did you do it?” she asked, looking at their conjoined hands.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I don’t know. I just--knew we couldn’t lose you.” His gaze darted from his hands to her eyes. She was looking at him now. “I couldn’t lose you.”
She gave him a genuine smile. “Sam…”
“You should get some rest.” He cut in before she could continue. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Not now when it was too late.
He rose from the chair. From the corner of his eye, he saw another figure move. Dean stood in the doorway. A shadow of himself.
“It’s okay,” Sam said, stepping aside.
Dean still hesitated.
“You can come in,” Jo said.
That’s right. He needed to hear that invitation.
Dean entered. He glanced from Sam to Jo. His face was clouded with shame, guilt. He didn’t say anything as he walked to the bed. He held out his hand. Jo took a hold of his fingers and guided him down to lay them beside her. He tucked one arm around Jo, the other around her waist.
They held each other as one.
They would walk this world as one.
Forever.
Mates for life.
Something inside Sam shattered.
He walked out of the room, his hand on the knob. He turned back once more to look at Dean and Jo in bed together. They looked so content, settled, like they had been doing this for a long time now.
He left the door open.
Back in the kitchen, Sam saw the blood on the white tiles. He found a towel, wet it under the faucet, got down on his knees and began to scrub. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his hands were raw and the stain was gone. Like it had never happened.
He closed his eyes, but he could still see Dean’s mouth covered in Jo’s blood as he drank. The small gasp from her lips before terror took over.
It had happened.
Sam got on his feet, washed his hands, and looked out the window. The tiny golden orbs that had lit up the black sky were now a diminishing glow in the early morning. A hard knot formed in his chest. It was a sob he wouldn’t release.
Instead, he sighed and went back to the bedroom. The door was still open. Dean’s hand was on Jo’s face. She had her eyes closed, but she smiled when his fingers brushed her cheek.
Sam found himself moving to the bed. He climbed in behind Jo. Her back molded into his chest. The knot inside uncoiled.
“Sam,” Jo whispered with her eyes still closed.
He lifted his gaze and met Dean’s stern expression. Sam didn’t know if that was his brother’s silent challenge, but he accepted it anyway. Anything he had to do to keep her safe--to keep the both of them safe.
Sam draped his arm around Jo on top of Dean’s already-placed arm. In between them, Jo finally opened her eyes. They were color of dark chocolate. Her faced turned pale.
“Dean.” Large incisors appeared in her mouth. Her body shook. “Dean.”
His eyes narrowed with concern. “Shh…” He brushed his hand through her hair. “Shh…” He looked up at Sam. “What do you want to do?”
Jo moaned. She was changing, turning, hungry and thirsty.
“It’s still me.”
“I want to help her,” Sam said.
Dean sat up. He took a hold of Jo’s head and gently turned it, angling it into the right position. Sam ignored his racing heartbeat and the thoughts flooding his head.
You can still turn this around. End it right now. For everyone.
But, he couldn’t. No, this was only the beginning.
With Dean’s hand guiding her, Jo’s wet mouth found Sam’s neck. She pressed her lips below his pulse. Her hands clutched the back of his head. At first, it was just a prick like a needle inserting itself into his finger. Then, Jo began to feed. His toes curled inside his boots. His lips tightened.
“Fuck,” he gasped.
“Take it easy, Jo,” Dean said, his finger running through her hair.
Jo followed his instructions. Her tongue was warm lapping on Sam’s neck. His toes uncurled and he sighed. A tingling sensation went up and down his body. He felt like he was floating on a cloud. Now, he knew how Jo had felt like when Dean had fed from her--and why she had allowed him to do so.
“That’s enough.” Dean pulled Jo away. She whimpered and clawed at Sam. Dean held her hands down. “I said enough.”
Disoriented, Sam fell back on the pillows. He touched the wound on his neck. It wasn’t too deep. A little messy, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a few days.
He would need a turtleneck to cover up the scar.
Dean stood on Sam’s side of the bed with a towel in hand. “Here.”
Sam placed it on his neck. Next to him, Jo laid on her back, her gaze on the ceiling. Her new teeth had retracted and her eyes were now a warm honey brown.
“I’m so sorry, Sam.” She blurted the words out before she covered her mouth with her hands. Tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry.”
He sank down next to her. “Look at me.”
She turned her gaze to him.
“It’s okay,” he said.
She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and repeating his words. “It’s okay.”
Sam rested his head on her shoulder. She smelled like the ground after a rainfall, where new life could spring again.
The mattress sagged as Dean returned to his place on the other side of Jo. Sam met his gaze again.
Thank you, they both said silently.
Dean brushed his lips against Jo’s before settling in beside her. He closed his eyes.
Jo looked at Sam again. Her eyes were dry now, but that didn’t matter. The room was still heavy with their sorrow, their despair.
Sam nodded his head. I know.
Jo closed her eyes.
Sam watched the two of them. Jo and Dean. Dean and Jo.
How was he going to fit into this?
Jo grabbed his hand and brought it up to her chest. Dean’s hand was already there.
That was when Sam realized he did fit; he was the piece that had started it all.
Jo and Dean. Dean and Jo.
Jo and Dean and Sam.
They held each other as one.
They would walk this world as one.
Forever.
Mates for life.
Sam closed his eyes.
THE END
