sing with me

Boys and girls feel good together

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 06:18:57 GMT

So, has the SPN fandom imploded yet?

I admit, I looked at the some of the comments. Some were hilarious. Some were just mean. And all this time, we thought it was Jared/Gen :) I'm just cringing at the thought of how the Chicago SPN con is going to go this weekend. More security? Hehe. Anyway, I'm staying away from the wank. Lately, I've been distancing myself from the show and the fandom. It's not so new and shiny anymore.

I received some good news today. I was invited to join the Southern Orange County Writers Critique Group. I don't know if I ever told the story here, but I met a woman at work who was a member and we exchanged e-mails. She contacted me and told me more about the group and how to get in touch with the group's moderator. Imagine my surprise when I found out the mod was also an Odyssey graduate! I didn't feel as nervous about joining the group, so, I sent in a writing sample last week and heard back tonight that the group accepted me. They call it a small, elite group. I'm kind of wary of the word "elite," but if the mod is an Odyssey grad, then I'll give it a try. My first meeting is next month (they meet monthly).

Other than that, I've been feeling kind of meh. I guess it doesn't matter where you are (sunny weather, snowy weather), you still experience the seasonal blues. I guess I'm missing my family and it's my first time away from my parents during Thanksgiving. I doubt I'll be able to see them during Christmas either, so, I probably won't get to see them until next year. Damn, retail...unless I get a new non-retail job within the next month.

Next week, my cousin and I are going to see Spring Awakening. Yes, you can blame Lea for that. NEW GLEE THIS WEEK! Anyone else loving the CD too?

I need a haircut.

SPN Fic: My Heart, Your Hands 2/2

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 08:11:33 GMT

I am not a gentle shepherd
like the ones in fairy tales,
but a good woodsman who shares with you
earth, wind, and mountain thorns.
“The Well”
Pablo Neruda

Part II: To the Edge Again

Nine

The demon's taunts grew louder each time Jo shouted in Latin.

“Fresh meat! Fresh meat!” The demon cackled like a deranged mental patient. The meat suit was a middle-aged redhead. No make-up. Gray sweatpants and black T-shirt. It made Jo think housewife, but she had to remind herself that this wasn't a woman anymore. This was a demon.

Jo continued the exorcism spell, pushing each piece of Latin out with her tongue.

“Come on, baby.” The demon struggled in the chair. Her hands were bound in rope and her feet planted on the Devils Trap on the floor of the warehouse. “Is that all you got?”

Jo held John's journal tightly and read the words scrawled in his handwriting. She could do this. She knew she could do this.

“Your daddy could do better!”

Jo's chanting faltered. She looked up at the demon, mouth frozen open.

“That's right! Your dead daddy could do better than you!” The demon's high-pitched laughter filled the air.

Then, a slap cracked through the jeering.

Jo flinched as Dean lowered his hand and stepped away from the now-silent demon. A pink handprint appeared on the demon's right cheek.

“Keep going, Jo,” Dean said, his hard gaze locked on the demon’s smirking face.

She cleared her throat and fought to keep her voice from shaking. Just a couple more lines. A heavy presence joined her side. Like a wolf pack member, she caught John’s familiar scent--wild summer air right before a violent thunderstorm. It warmed her insides.

Dean circled the demon like a predator ready to pounce.

She realized she wasn’t alone in this. Jo licked her lips and finished the spell.

The three of them grinned as the demon began to scream.

**

Jo had learned a lot from the Winchesters after spending two months on the road with them. They didn’t like to talk especially to each other. To Jo’s surprise, John prayed. Dean had nightmares that kept him from getting a full night’s sleep. And no one was allowed to bring up Sam. Early on, she had mentioned his name once at breakfast. John got up from the table and left the diner. He never returned to finish his coffee.

But it wasn’t always about exorcism spells or the latest monster they had to kill.

She was learning a lot more about herself too.

Like how she missed her mom every now and then, even though leaving the Roadhouse was the best thing to ever happen to her. She began to understand the importance of her father’s switchblade and why he had put his initials on the handle. He had wanted to be remembered and never forgotten. It had worked.

Every demon she put back in the Pit, every creature she stopped, every pile of bones she burned--it brought her closer to her father.

And to Dean and John.

So close that she could tell the difference now when they touched her. Dean’s possessive grip on her wrist. John’s coarse hands on her bare stomach.

She loved it both.

**

Jo heard the motel door open and close as she changed in the bathroom from her sweatshirt and blue jeans to a white tank top and green pajama shorts. She ran a brush through her long hair and waited a moment.

Whoever was in the other room was also waiting.

When she opened the bathroom door, John sat on one of the twin-sized beds. His glazed expression said it all.

“Where did Dean go?” Jo asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Don’t worry about him.” He moved to her, slow like a slithering snake. He placed his large hand on the crook of her neck and her pulse quickened.

“You did good last night.” John’s compliment burned in her ear. He lowered his hand to her stomach and replaced his mouth on her neck. “Nothing scares you, does it?”

You do, she wanted to say, but she didn’t.

“So fearless.” He lifted her tank top and his hands cupped her breasts. “So brave.”

Her eyes fluttered as he stroked her nipples until they became hard.

“I taught you well, didn’t I?” He nibbled on her ear.

She nodded. “Aren’t you glad you took me with you?”

“Should have taken you a long time ago.” He pushed her against the wall and took her left nipple into his mouth. She moaned as he suckled her, biting her gently before soothing her with his warm tongue. He moved to her other breast. She ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to continue.

With a frustrated growl, he slid her shirt over her head and pressed his body on hers. He kissed her hard until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“John,” she gasped.

His eyes darkened. His hand vanished into the front of her shorts. She was already wet for him. He smiled at the discovery.

“Look at you,” he said. “You gonna beg me to fuck you?”

She nodded again. “Please…”

“Please what?”

She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest. “Fuck me, John, please, fuck me.”

She recognized the glint in his eyes. She had seen the same in Dean’s many times before.

John pushed her shorts down her legs and unbuckled his jeans. She swallowed at the sight of his erect cock. She should make him beg as well.

Greedily, she wrapped her hand around his cock.

“No.” He shoved her hand away. Instead, he stepped out of his pants and sat back on the bed. “Come here.”

She walked to him and he grabbed her waist. He kissed her belly button, his tongue drawing lazy circles on her skin. She smiled. Sometimes he could be tender.

And sometimes…

She gasped as he spun her around. He lowered her ass down to his cock. With a hard thrust, he filled her up. She groaned, throwing her head back. She loved it when John fucked her from behind. His mouth returned to her neck, biting down.

Vampire, she thought. Sucking her being, her soul, everything---he was taking everything.

With his hands still on her waist, he moved her up and down on his lap until they found a rhythm they could agree on.

Jo was so wrapped up in her song with John that she didn’t hear the motel door open until it closed. Her eyes snapped open. Dean stood at the door, a newspaper under his arm. She expected him to lash out at his father, at her, at both of them. He knew she had been fucking his father from time to time on the road, but this made it a reality.

“Dean,” she sighed. She tried to stand and remove herself from John, but his hands remained planted on her waist and his cock deep in her ass. She couldn’t deny how good this felt.

Dean put down the newspaper and stood there, watching. His gaze moved from Jo to John, and that was when she realized this was why didn’t talk. They communicated another way, in a silent language only they could understand.

John’s stubble scratched her cheek as he leaned in to whisper to her. “We’re gonna take care of you, all right, Jo? You hear me?”

She nodded and curled an arm behind her around John’s neck. John lowered his hands to her legs and spread them wide. Dean stared at her exposed slit. She became wetter at the thought of what was to come next.

“Is that mine?” Dean asked in a hushed voice.

With John still moving inside her from behind, Jo could barely answer Dean.

“Is that mine?” Dean asked louder.

She whimpered. “Yes, it’s yours.”

“Don’t forget that.” He took off his jeans and boxers. Jo’s breathing hitched as John stood, still clinging to her, and leaned his back against the wall.

Dean stood in front of her and nudged her thighs open with his knee. Their eyes locked. She began to understand this secret language. Talking without talking.

So, she told Dean with her eyes, “Do it.”

And he heard her.

He pushed his cock into her wet pussy.

She gasped at the sensation. With John behind her and Dean in front, she thought she was going to explode from the pleasure. Not only that, she felt safe and wanted standing in between them, and in some perverse way, she thought maybe they felt the same. They were connected through her.

Dean withdrew, only to plunge deeper inside her. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

“Fuck.” She bit on her bottom lip.

John’s large hands covered her breasts, squeezing them in his calloused palms. “That’s it, darling. Let go. Let me and Dean take care of you. You can handle us, can’t you?”

“Is this all you’ve got?” she said with a chuckle.

With that challenge, the two men synched up their movements, withdrawing and thrusting at the same time. She wailed in defeat as the orgasm shook her body.

John shuddered behind her, his grasp on her relaxing. Dean pumped into her furiously until he also came. He leaned into her, kissing her and stroking her face.

Jo clutched the collar of his flannel shirt as her breathing slowed. Having Dean here made this moment complete.

John released her and moved aside. He tugged on his jeans, grabbed the newspaper Dean had brought back, and left the motel room without saying a word.

Jo thought she would be used to his cold behavior by now, but she had to admit watching him leave after sharing an experience like that hurt her.

“Hey.” Dean’s soft voice brought her back to where she was, in his arms. He brushed the hair from her eyes and studied her face. “You with me?”

She snuggled into his solid frame and told him the truth. “Yes.”

With that answer, Dean hoisted her off her feet and carried her to the bed.

Ten

It was nearing month three with Jo, and there were still days where John wanted to bend her over the hood of the Impala and fuck her hard and days where he wanted to leave her standing on the side of the road.

But she was doing what she had sought out to do--become a good hunter. She found her own leads, helped him solve a couple cases, and showed no mercy when confronted with the supernatural.

Bill would be proud.

And that’s what made him sick.

There was no way Bill would have wanted this life for his little girl. Stuck in some car with two Winchesters, traveling from town to town, fucking from town to town. He had uprooted her, and now she was dying.

Eleven

Jo never felt as alive as she did right now. She had just taken out a nest of vampires--by herself.

By the time Dean arrived on the scene, she stood among the headless corpses, bloody and grinning like a maniac.

“Damn,” he said in awe. “Looks like I need to buy you a drink.”

“Make it two.” She tossed him the heavy ax. “And you get to clean up.”

Later, as they sat in the back booth of some dive, she told him she loved him. Just like that. Plain and simple.

But nothing was ever plain and simple when it came to Dean Winchester.

He sipped his beer after hearing her declaration. She hadn’t expected him to respond right away, but after five minutes of silence passed, he asked, “Do you mean it?”

She blinked. “Of course I mean it.”

“So, when you fuck my dad, what does that mean?” Even though his voice was calm, Jo could hear the venom in his words. The high from the vampire hunt was sucked out of her body and she landed flat on her back.

“You’ve never objected to me sleeping with him before," she said.

His eyes widened. “What could I say? My dad knew I was with you and he didn’t give a damn. He still went after you. And you, you just went along with it. Does that sound like love to you?”

Her heart clenched. A part of her knew Dean was right. She couldn’t love him entirely, not if she was still fucking John. But a bigger part of her knew it was possible to love Dean and only Dean.

She reached for his hand, but he pulled away. She curled her fingers in as heaviness set in her heart.

“I care about John,” she said. “But I love you, Dean. Do you hear me? I love you.”

His face remained stoic.

“You’re only here because my dad feels guilty,” he said.

Jo frowned. “About what?”

Dean turned his head from her. “Nothing, never mind.”

“What? About my dad?”

“Forget it.”

“You brought it up, Dean,” she said.

He only picked up his beer and finished drinking it.

She slouched in the booth and crossed her arms. This night went from being the best in her life to the worst.

She jumped when Dean placed his hand on her knee. His face twisted as he struggled to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

It wasn’t a confession of love, but it was still as strong. She covered his hand with hers and accepted it.

**

When they returned to the motel room, John was missing. It wasn’t anything new to them. He’d be home by dawn. Jo fell asleep in the same bed as Dean, his legs wrapped around her and his mouth warm against her forehead.

She dreamed about Dean standing in the rain, holding an umbrella, waiting to give her shelter. Next to him, John laughed, soaking wet, not caring at all about the storm.

“You don’t need that,” he told her. “You can do just fine without it.”

In the horizon, she saw the sun peeking through the dark clouds. If only she could get there…

A loud thud awoke her. She stared at the ceiling, her heart pounding in her chest. Dean was curled up on the other side of the bed. She heard the thud again and saw the dark figure stumbling in the room.

“John?” she whispered.

On command, he stepped closer to her. He swayed on his feet and he reeked of alcohol. She got out of bed and helped him to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, she sat him on the covered toilet seat and ran a hand towel under the warm faucet.

“You’re drunk off your ass,” she said.

He burped. “Was thinking about you.”

She sighed and put the warm towel against his pale face. His bloodshot eyes looked back at her. It scared her how much of Dean she saw in John. They were both damaged people that shared the same tragic history and made the same mistakes that had led them to this very moment. She had been wrong before. She wasn’t something that connected the father and son; she was just another broken piece that didn’t fit.

John grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers. There was still some dirt and blood under her nails.

“I got rid of that vampire nest,” she said. “All by myself.”

He tossed her hand away in disgust. For the second time tonight, a Winchester had rejected her.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He sounded aware and sober now. “What are you doing with your life, Jo?”

She stood and set the wet towel next to the sink. “Don’t try to talk me out of this. You can’t make me walk away from what I want to do.”

“But that’s it. Is this what you really want to do? Live out of car? No home, no family, no future?”

“I have Dean.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “And I have you.”

He made a noise like he had just swallowed something bitter.

“Look at Sam,” John said. “My own damn blood left me high and dry. What makes you think you want to stick around when he didn’t?”

“I am not Sam.” She could be as cruel as John Winchester if she wanted to.

He rose and stood face to face with him. Her temporary courage dissipated.

His nostrils flared. “Don’t talk about my son like you know him.” He grabbed her shoulders. “You don’t know anything about Sam, and you don’t know anything about Dean.”

She thought he might hit her, but instead he gathered her into his arms and held her tight.

“I don’t know anything about them either, Jo,” he mumbled into her hair. “I’m their own damn father and I have no fucking clue who they are. Sam’s gone, and sooner or later, Dean’s gonna leave me too. What kind of father fucks around with his son’s girl, huh?”

Sobs broke out of the man. This scared Jo more than anything.

“I’m so sorry, Jo.” John squeezed her so hard she felt the air get knocked out of her. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could go back and change things. I wish I could have saved him. It was my fault. My stupid ass fault.”

She was frozen in John’s arms, unable to move, but also unable to ignore his words.

“Your father--I let him die--I couldn’t do anything to save him, Jo, you have to understand, it was the only thing I could do.” His teary confession echoed in her ears. “I let him die. I fucked up and got him killed. It’s my fault. My fault.”

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but it felt like years before she could pull herself out of John’s arms. When she did, he fell to his knees and pulled her back to him.

“I am such a fuck up.” He pressed his face into her stomach. “Everything I do is wrong. Everything I touch leaves or dies.” He lifted his gaze to her. “But you can make it better. I know you can. I just need you to forgive me. Please say you forgive me.”

Jo shook her head. Now she was the one disgusted.

“You pathetic old man.” She wrestled herself free and raced out of the bathroom.

She wasn’t surprised to find Dean awake, sitting at the foot of the bed with his back hunched and his elbows propped on his knees. She met his gaze in the darkened room and knew he had heard everything. Judging by his non-reaction, she realized Dean had known the truth about their fathers.

“Jo.” He jumped to his feet.

She recoiled. “Don’t.” With her arms up, she backed to the motel door and stepped into her tennis shoes, grabbing her backpack. “I don’t want anything to do with either of you.”

It wasn’t until she was outside, alone in the cool autumn night that she broke down and cried.

Twelve

The next morning, Jo still hadn’t returned, and Dean was left behind to clean up after his father.

John slept in the next bed, not stirring until late afternoon. By then, Dean had already called Jo’s cell phone a dozen times. Each ring went unanswered.

“What time is it?” John lifted his head and groaned. He fell back on the pillow and shut his eyes. “Get me some water, will you?”

Dean didn’t move from the other bed. He tightened his hold on his cell as though that would make Jo call him.

“Did you hear me?” John asked.

“Jo’s gone,” Dean said, his voice hollow.

At the mention of Jo’s name, John sat up, his eyes wide and alert. “Where is she?”

“She took off.”

John’s forehead wrinkled. “Took off where?”

“How should I know? Do you remember anything from last night, Dad? Like your drunken confessions of guilt on the bathroom floor?”

The wrinkles on John’s forehead deepened. Then, his shoulders sagged as realization filled his face.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“That’s right.” Dean stood. “Shit.”

John rubbed his head. “Listen, she couldn’t have gone far. She doesn’t have a car or much cash. We’ll find her.”

“What if she doesn’t want to come back?”

Like Sam.

His father’s eyes darkened as though he also shared Dean’s fear.

Anger seeped through Dean, but mostly at himself. He was at fault for Jo’s departure as much as his father. He had been selfish and kept the truth from her.

Now they had lost Jo.

“She told me she loved me,” he said softly. “Last night.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing.” His eyes became misty.

“What did you want to tell her?”

He lifted his gaze to John. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was looking at his father. Not an authority figure or a haunting reminder of his past, but a real father.

But Dean didn’t have an answer for his father’s question. His heart wasn’t ready to give one yet.

**

Dean’s cell phone rang later that evening. The unlisted number appeared on his cell phone’s screen. Alone in the motel room, he answered the call.

“Dean, it’s me.” It was Jo.

He sank into the foot of the bed. “Where are you?”

“I’m okay.” She paused. “Is John there?”

He clenched his jaw. “He’s out. Looking for you.”

“Well, tell him to stop,” she said. “I don’t want to be found.”

His fear was coming true.

“Jo, listen--”

“No, you listen, Dean. I understand. We were using each other. I needed a way to leave my mom, get into hunting. You needed someone to take care of and to take care of you. John needed forgiveness and by taking me on the road with you guys, he thought he was the doing the right thing, making up for getting my dad killed.”

“No, it’s not like that at all.”

“You’re still not listening, Dean.” She sighed. “Next time we see each other, I hope it’s for the right reasons.”

“What does that mean?” A lump formed in his throat.

“It means I want to see you again. Just not now. Now’s not good.”

“Then, when is it gonna be a good time?”

There was a shrug in her voice. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

He could accept that answer.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Dean thought Jo had hung up until he said her name. “Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“What you told me last night…”

“I said it, all right? When you say something like that, you can’t take it back.”

“Right.”

She waited, but he couldn’t give her what she wanted to hear.

“Now’s not good,” he said.

She was quiet.

“Good bye, Jo.”

“Good bye, Dean.”

He let her hang up first before doing the same. John walked in the door a few minutes later. His father looked at the cell, then at Dean’s face.

“You talked to her?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Dean sniffed. “She’s gone.”

John stared at him. “What are you talking about?” He reached for Dean’s phone, but Dean pulled back. “Give me that phone, boy.”

“No,” Dean said calmly.

John didn’t listen. He grabbed the phone. Dean shoved him against the wall and wrestled the phone from his hand. John pushed back.

Dean staggered, but didn’t fall. He kept his gaze locked on his father’s twisted expression.

“Let her go,” Dean said. “Let it go.”

The sins of their past. Their need to self-destruct.

“That’s what I’m going to do.” Dean pocketed the phone. John slumped against the wall and slid down to a sitting position. He left his father in the room without saying another word.

Thirteen

California was different. It was too sunny, too warm, too perfect. Maybe that was why Sam Winchester had chosen to escape here.

Jo tracked down the youngest Winchester a few weeks after leaving the other two. She had to admit, she was curious. How did Sam leave Dean and John? Could she be as strong as him?

Before coming to California, she had returned home. Her mother yelled at her for a whole minute, then gathered her in her arms and made her promise to never do anything that stupid again. She couldn’t make that promise. Her visit home was short. She had received a taste of the road, of hunting, and she wanted more.

With her mother’s sour face still fresh in her memory, Jo headed west. She did a few jobs on the way, but she had an appointment to keep.

Meeting Sam Winchester.

And she found him on an unusually cold day in Stanford’s campus library. He was holed up in a back cubicle, his head buried in a textbook.

Jo didn’t approach him right away. He was big and tall like John, probably all muscles under his sweatshirt and jeans. But there was something in his eyes that reminded her of Dean. That quiet determination, a sharpness that you didn’t expect, but should have. That was Dean.

She wondered about Sam though. Where was Sam in all of this?

She finally went up to him. “Hi.”

He lifted his head. “Hi.” A moment of confusion filled his face as though he was trying to figure out if he knew her, maybe they had a class together.

“I’m Jo,” she said. “Jo Harvelle.” She decided no aliases. She was here for the truth.

The confusion on his face turned to surprise as he raised his brows.

“Oh.” He gestured to a nearby chair. “Do you want to sit?”

She pulled up the chair and sat. Her gaze fell on his textbook. Something about law. She still found it ironic a former demon hunter was studying to become a lawyer.

“You’re not like them at all,” she said, mostly to herself.

“What?”

She looked at him. Dark eyes looked back under his shaggy bangs.

“Dean and John,” she said. “You’re not like them at all.”

“How do you know that? You don’t even know me.”

He was right.

Sam leaned back in his wooden chair. It looked tiny under him. “Dean was here a few days ago. He dropped by my place for a beer and to catch up like the last four years never happened.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of Dean’s name.

“What did you guys talk about?” she asked.

He leaned forward like he wanted to share a secret. “You know you were fucking the same guy, right? Dean and my dad. They’re the same person.”

Jo let out a dry chuckle. “Wanna fuck me too? Apparently, I have a thing for Winchester men.”

Sam didn’t laugh, didn’t even crack a smile.

She lowered her head, heat spreading to her face from embarrassment.

“I was only hunting with them for a couple of months, but everything changed. I’m not the same person anymore.” She stared at her hands. They were dry, and her fingernails were getting too long. “That’s what I wanted more than anything. To change, to become this completely different person, but I let it go too far. I lost myself. Now, I’m trying to find myself again.” She lifted her gaze to Sam. He watched her silently. “I just wanted to see if that was possible.”

He put his hand on her knee. The touch burned through her jeans, but she didn’t move.

“It’s possible,” he told her.

She smiled. That was all she needed to hear.

**

The sun was shining as Jo exited the library. She didn’t mind the warm glow caressing her cheek. For a second, she thought about Dean, and her heart ached.

Then, through the crowd of college students, she spotted him.

John.

Or Dean. According to Sam, they were the same person.

John was making his way toward the library building. He wore a heavy brown jacket that looked ridiculous under the California sun, but he never cared about that sort of thing.

Jo kept walking in the other direction. Her gaze darted back to John. This time, he met it. In that brief moment of eye contact, they spoke. They spoke in that silent language she had learned from the Winchesters.

And they continued in their opposite ways and let go.

Fourteen

John found his youngest son in the back of the library. He used to find Sam in the same position often, whether if it was to read up on the latest comic book or the latest research book. He was a smart kid; he left hunting behind him.

Sam was packing up when John approached him. Sam went rigid at the sight of him. His back and lips straightened. His gaze drifted to his shoes.

Relax, John wanted to tell him. Just relax.

It hit him the kind of effect he had on his sons. They could never relax, never be themselves, never be free. Unless they made it happen.

“Hello, Sam,” he said.

Sam didn’t respond, didn’t move.

It didn’t stop John from embracing him. When Sam hugged him back, tears stung his eyes.

Now, they could both relax. Now, they could be free.

Fifteen

For a moment, the afternoon sun blinded Dean. He raised his left hand to shield his eyes, and that was when he saw her.

Jo.

She carried three plastic grocery bags in her left hand while her right held a set of keys. He pushed himself from the hood of the Impala and walked to her.

“Hey, Jo,” he said.

She tilted her head, no surprise at all on her face. “Dean.”

“Need a hand?” He gestured to her groceries.

“Sure.”

He grabbed the bags from her and she unlocked the front door to her apartment building. She was living in Wisconsin now, close enough to Lake Michigan to feel a cool breeze. She checked her mailbox and muttered, “Damn bills” before leading the way upstairs.

They climbed four flights without saying a word. Jo opened the door to number 406 and dumped the keys and bills on the small dining table.

The entire apartment was small. Cozy, but small. A red sofa. White carpet. A small TV with crooked antennae ears. Newspapers were scattered on the kitchen island. A few dirty dishes in the sink. A hallway to his left that probably led to the bathroom and bathroom. It was perfect for Jo.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

She started to put away the groceries. “I’m fine. You?”

“A little hungry actually.” He patted his stomach.

“Wanna stay for dinner?”

She didn’t have to ask twice.

Jo made them spaghetti with garlic toast. They made small talk in between bites. She asked about John (“Hunting a werewolf in Seattle”). She asked about Sam (“Getting ready for law school”). She asked about him. He didn’t have much to say there.

A year had passed since Jo’s phone call, since he told her good bye. Now, here he was, back in her life. For the right reasons.

After they finished eating, he helped her with the dishes, drying and stacking them in the drainer. She grabbed two bottles of Bud Light from the fridge and escorted them to the living room. He noticed the only picture on display was of her parents. A young Ellen with a bright smile and a young Bill Harvelle squinting at the camera.

“I found that picture in a shoebox when I was sixteen,” Jo said. “I almost forgot I had it. It’s kind of funny. I wasn’t even looking for it, but it’s like it found me.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He took a drink of his beer. His stomach turned. Not from the alcohol, but because he knew Jo was waiting. Waiting to hear the reasons.

The thing was they sounded fine in his head, but he had no idea what they would sound like once he opened his mouth. He was never good with words.

Instead, he put his bottle down on the coffee table and moved to where Jo stood. He took her bottle from her, set that down too, then put his hands on her waist. Held her there. Just held her.

She dropped her head and whispered, “Dean.”

He cupped her face in between his palms and lifted her head so that she had to look at him. Look him straight in the eye.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, Jo, but I think now’s a good time,” he said.

She grinned, laughing and nodding. “It is. It finally is.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought their mouths together.

He kissed her smile and brought their hands together, interlacing their fingers. They moved down the hallway. Dean leading. Jo following. Jo leading. Dean following. They danced that way until they both tumbled into her bed.

He rolled her on her back and lay on top of her. He lifted their entwined hands over her head. Her brown eyes looked up at him. He knew those eyes, but then again, they weren’t the same pair he had looked into a year ago. He hoped she felt the same about him.

A lot had changed.

“Jo, I need to tell you something.”

She sprinkled light kisses along the pulse of his neck. “I know…I know…”

“Just let me say it.” He lowered his head so he could whisper in her ear. “I love you.” When he lifted his head, she was looking at him with a small smile on her face. She pulled her right hand free and cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes at the soft touch.

That hadn’t changed.

**

The next morning, Dean made them scrambled eggs with toast and orange juice. Jo stumbled into the kitchen, still half-asleep, dressed only in his T-shirt. She rubbed her eyes and smiled at the food already set on the table.

“Okay, where’s the real Dean Winchester?” she asked, sitting.

“Right here, baby.” He kissed the top of her head and poured juice into her glass.

She took a sip and crossed her legs. “So.”

He took his seat slowly. It was a heavy-handed “so.”

“When are you leaving?” she asked.

“You see, I was thinking about that.” He stabbed his fork into the fluffy yellow eggs and took a big bite. “Why should I be leaving?”

Jo tilted her head. “Then, how long are you staying?”

“Does it matter?” he said with a shrug.

“Well, kinda.”

Dean scooted his chair closer to hers and put a hand on her bare leg. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

“Well,” she lifted her leg and rested it on his lap, “I hope you packed a lot of undies. You’re staying for awhile.”

He grinned and reached for a piece of toast. “I was hoping so.”

I can feel the pain of the sun as it lights up the air,
I can taste the hope, it’s everywhere.
“This is Home”
I Am Ghost

Part Three: Safety Net

Sixteen

“Can I come in?”

Jo turned at the sound of the gruff voice. John waited at the door.

“Please,” she told him.

He wore pressed black slacks and a light blue button down shirt. His hair was combed and he had shaved. She had never seen him without the usual stubble on his jaw. Dean looked so much like him.

“So, how do I look?” She raised her arms to show off her long white dress. It was a simple silk dress her mother had bought for her. Her hair was up in a loose bun with a few strands framing her face. She decided to go bare feet for this occasion.

John looked her over and smiled. “You look beautiful.” He moved to her and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. A hint of sadness filled his dark eyes, but it was just a moment. His smile returned. “I’m happy for you, Jo, for the both of you.”

She leaned into him. “Thank you.”

Their foreheads touched.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

He kissed her cheek and lingered there. She let him. She let him because she knew they still cared for each other, but things could never go back to the way they were.

She loved Dean. She was going to marry Dean, spend the rest of her life with Dean, and maybe have kids with Dean. They had a future together.

With John, it would always be about the past.

He pulled away and held out his arm. “Are you ready to become a Winchester?”

She looped her arm through his. “I think I was born ready.”

He patted her hand and led her outside the back door of the church. A dozen people occupied the seats in the small garden. Her mother. Ash. A few people from her job at the grocery store. Sam and his fiancé, Jessica; their own wedding was to take place next month.

Dean stood up front next to the pastor. He wore a white button down shirt, black tie, and black slacks. And a smile.

Jo smiled back as John walked her down the aisle. The green grass was wet under her feet. It felt like the sun was shining for her and only for her.

“Who presents this bride in marriage?” the pastor asked.

“Her mother and I do,” John said.

He stepped aside to let Dean stand next to her. Where he belonged.

Together, they turned to face the pastor. Dean’s fingers skimmed hers. She latched on to them and held on tight.

THE END

********
Author's Note: If you guys know me, I love Dean/Jo. Time after time, fic after fic, I've always enjoyed putting them in new situations and seeing what happens. I admit, they still surprise me. When I signed up for polybigbang, I knew right away I wanted to write Dean/Jo/John because I have always wanted to write and explore the character of John Winchester. Dean and Jo, I get. I've written many fics for them and over time, I was able to get inside their heads and understand them, but John? That was a totally different story. Let's face it, John's hella intimidating. In fact, I tapped valiant to beta for me because I enjoyed how she wrote John in her 2009 SPN Big Bang fic "Heart Toward the Highway" (and I was lucky enough to make the art for the fic).

As viewers, we didn't get much of John on screen, so as fanfic writers, we were left with very little to work with. Even when I finished the fic, I honestly felt like we were never meant to understand him. He's a mysterious man, and I think I like not knowing what makes him tick. It will make it much more interesting for me if I ever choose to write the character again.

SPN Fic: My Heart, Your Hands 1/2

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 08:10:28 GMT

My Heart, Your Hands
SPN
Dean/Jo/John
NC-17
AU/Sam has successfully left the hunting world behind him and is a student at Stanford. Meanwhile, Dean and John still live as hunters. One day, they stop at the Harvelle Roadhouse and meet Jo, who desires the open road as much as they do.
Word count: 13,500
For polybigbang, thanks to valiant for the beta and irishbunnie for the artwork
Title from the song "My Heart, Your Hands" by Dommin, please see under the cut to listen to the fic's playlist

By irishbunnie

I hurl my heart to halt his pace,
To quench his thirst I squander blood;
He eats, and still his need seeks food,
Compels a total sacrifice.
“Pursuit”
Sylvia Plath

Part I: Empty Spaces

One

For a moment, the hot afternoon sun blinded Dean Winchester. He raised his left hand to shield his eyes and that was when he saw her.

Jo Harvelle.

The petite blonde stood on the horizon with the yellow sun on her back. It cast a giant shadow over Dean. With Jo blocking the sun, he lowered his hand and looked the girl up and down.

She put her weight on her right side and jutted out her hip. A soft breeze ruffled her shoulder-length hair. She wore a white tank-top, no bra. Her skinny arms were deceiving because she had to have strong arms to work as a waitress in a roadhouse. He knew how much hunters liked to drink. Those arms probably had carried many trays full of empty beer bottles to the back, hell, maybe she had even carried some of those drunks out of the bar.

Jo kicked at the dirt in front of her mother's roadhouse and approached Dean. She hooked her fingers in the belt loops of her blue jeans and cocked her head.

“Dean Winchester?” she asked.

He nodded, liking the way his name sounded on her lips.

Her mouth have him a hint a smile. “I figured.” She waved him forward. “My mom's waiting for you.”

He moved from the parked Impala and followed Jo inside the Harvelle Roadhouse.

Dean was surprised to see that the bar was bigger than it looked from outside. It was dimly lit, casting even more shadows than the setting sun. Faint cigarette smoke still lingered in the air. Pool tables sat at one end of the place while arcade games like the Big Buck Hunter lined up the other side.

“You play?” Jo pointed to the game with her chin.

“Not really.” He removed the green plastic rifle attached to the camouflage-colored machine. “I prefer the real thing.”

Jo crossed her arms, clearly not impressed. Dean put the rifle back and paced the room. The wooden floorboards creaked under his boots.

“So, your mom?”

“Right here.” Ellen Harvelle entered the room from a swinging back door. Everything his father had told him about her was right. Her dark eyes didn't blink as she studied Dean. Unlike Jo's bare arms, Ellen was covered in a red flannel shirt and jeans. Wavy brown hair framed her stern face. This lady meant business. It was a good thing that was what he was here for.

“Can I get you something to drink? A beer?” Ellen moved behind the bar counter and gestured to the stools.

“Sure.” Dean took a seat and watched as Jo joined her mother. Playing bartender, Jo removed a bottle of Budweiser from the cooler, cracked it open, and placed it with a coaster in front of him. She'd probably done this a million times for other hunters. “Thanks.” He took a long drink, not realizing how thirsty he was.

“How was your trip?” Ellen asked.

“Fine.” He wrapped his fingers around the cold bottle. Liquid beads collected on his skin. “I've never been in this part of Nebraska before.”

“You ain't missing much,” Jo said. “Nothing but cornfields and manure.”

“Jo,” Ellen said with an exasperated sigh.

Dean recognized that tone. He heard his father use it many times with Sam.

Sam.

His heart ached at the thought of his brother. He forced the feeling away and returned his attention to the women.

“My dad and I were hoping you could help us with a case,” Dean said. “You did talk to him, right?”

“I did.” Ellen put a hand on her hip. “John must be desperate if he's looking at me for help. We haven't talked in years.”

That would explain why she looked so annoyed at him. Dean dismissed her attitude and continued.

“We've been tracking a group of vampires through the Midwest,” he said. “We think it's a nest, maybe six, maybe more.”

“And what would I know about any nest?” Ellen said.

“Not you.” Dean paused to take another drink. “Gordon Walker.”

Ellen knitted her brows. “What do you want with that son of a bitch?”

“What do you think? He's good at killing vampires.”

“Yeah, and I'm good at poker, but you don't see me in Vegas now, do you?”

His father had warned him about Ellen's stubbornness too. No wonder he had sent Dean out here alone. He shifted in his seat and glanced at Jo, who stood quietly next to her mother. It didn't look like she had inherited her mother's mouth.

“Gordon hasn't come through here in at least three months,” Ellen said. “Last I heard, he was down in Texas.”

Dean knew the vampire hunter wasn't in Texas any longer. Gordon was supposed to be the best, and that meant he was probably already tracking the same nest Dean and his father were hunting.

Dean took out his wallet and slapped a five next to his beer. “Well, thanks, anyway.” He waltzed through the front door, letting it slam behind him on his way out.

As he walked back to the Impala, he reached into his jacket for his cell phone. He was sure his father would love to hear how much this visit had been a fucking waste of time. Before he could dial the number, he heard gravel crunch and turned.

Jo stood there, her brown eyes wide, her chest rising quickly as though she had raced after him, hoping to catch him before he left.

“My mom was right,” Jo said. “She hasn't seen Gordon in three months, but I have.”

Dean leaned closer. “You have?”

“Yeah. He stopped by two weeks ago, but my mom was out of town. I never told her. She doesn't like Gordon very much.”

“Did he say anything about where he was heading?”

Jo lifted her gaze to the sky as she thought about the question. “Chicago. He said he was going to a visit a contact, maybe stay there for a couple of days.”

“Thanks.” Dean opened the car door. When he looked back at Jo, the sun blinded him again with yellow and orange. He ducked into his seat and the colors vanished. Only Jo remained.

“I should get back before my mom realizes I ran after you.” She gave him a timid wave and hurried toward the roadhouse.

Even after Jo slipped back inside, Dean sat there for a moment. Sure, he hadn't gotten any action in awhile--too busy chasing vampires without Sam--but there was something about the way Jo looked at him that set his nerves on edge. Like she wanted to crawl into the empty seat next to him and just take off, even though they just met.

And the crazy part was he probably would have let her.

Two

John Winchester took a slow drag of his cigarette and looked up at the moon. The silver circle hung low in the black sky and the stars twinkled just like in the song Mary used to sing to the boys.

He couldn't believe how small the boys had been back then. Sam cradled in Mary's arms and Dean hugging his father's leg.

Now.

Now, Sam had gone away to school, and Dean, he was just a shell without his brother. And John was trying. He was fucking trying to make things work, but the only way he could do that was do what he did best, and that was hunt.

John took another drag as he sat on the curb outside his motel room. Dean had called an hour ago and told him he was on his way back from seeing Ellen. Dean said Ellen had given him a hard time, but John wasn't surprised. What did surprise him was that Dean had received his information from Jo.

Little Jo. Not so little anymore. The last time he had seen her was a few years after Bill had died. She must have been at least fourteen, but she looked so much like her father, from the blond hair to the way she stood with her shoulders held high despite the sadness in her life. John had to admit he wondered what she looked like now. Without Bill around as a calming force, had Jo turned into a spitfire like Ellen?

A pair of headlights passed over his face. The Impala parked in front of John and the lights faded as Dean turned off the engine.

With the cigarette dangling from his mouth, John rose to greet his son. Dean stepped out from behind the driver's seat. He tossed the car keys into the air and John caught them with one hand.

“Those things can kill you, you know,” Dean said.

“What? This?” John removed the cigarette and handed it to him.

Dean took a drag, inhaling the smoke slowly before exhaling a cloud. He dropped it to the ground, then snuffed it out with his boot. He stalked into their motel room, shedding his jacket.

“You didn't tell me Ellen was such a bitch,” Dean said, sitting on his bed.

John closed the door behind him. “I told you she was hard-headed.”

“No, Dad, there's a difference.” He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “I ain't going back there.”

“We don't have to,” John said. “We got our info, right? Tomorrow we'll head out to Chicago. I'll call some people, see if they've seen Gordon.” He gestured to the paper bag on the small table next to the window. “Did you eat? I got some fried chicken.”

“Not hungry,” Dean muttered.

Dean, not hungry? That was like a cop turning down a doughnut.

“Suit yourself.” John picked up his duffel bag and started to head to the bathroom when his curiously won out. “Did you see Ellen's girl?”

“Jo? Yeah, I saw her.”

“How she doing?” John asked. “I mean, did she look okay? It's been awhile since I seen her.”

“She looked fine.” Dean narrowed his eyes. “What's with all the questions?”

John shrugged. “I told you. Been awhile since I seen her.”

“But you haven't seen Sam for awhile either. I don't hear you asking questions about him.”

“Damn it, Dean, how many times do we have to do this? Sam left us, all right? He chose Stanford over us. When are you going to understand that?”

“That's the problem, Dad.” Dean's shoulders sagged. “I'm never going to understand.”

A part of John wanted to go over to his son, put a hand on Dean's back, and tell him everything was going to all right. Instead, he headed into the bathroom and shut the door. He started the shower and as he waited for the hot water, he stared at the man in the mirror.

“You're a joke,” he told the man.

Three

It was raining when Jo saw Dean a week later. Thunder clapped, and he appeared at the front of the roadhouse, shaking droplets of rain from the sleeves of his leather jacket. Behind him, a taller man entered. Dark features from his shaggy hair and eyes to the gray peppering his beard. It had to be John Winchester. Jo focused on his eyes again. They were sad like Dean's.

The two men lingered near the front. Their gazes moved from table to table as the other hunters in the bar looked up at the newest patrons. The electricity in the air intensified as though a fight was brewing.

Jo moved from behind the bar counter. “Hey.” When Dean caught her gaze, the tension in the room seem to deflate. “I didn't expect you back here.”

“Me neither.” He glanced at his father before walking away.

Jo watched him go, frowning. She hadn't expected that response. Maybe the vampire nest job hadn't gone over well. Maybe they hadn't found Gordon after all and Dean was pissed that her information had been wrong. Maybe--

“Don't worry about him.” John's gravely voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned back to John, surprised to see the warm kindness in his eyes.

“Is it about Chicago?” Jo asked. “I swear that's what Gordon told me he was going.”

“No, it's not that. You were right about Gordon. We found him and we were able to find the vampire nest.”

“Good.” She waited for the “but.”

Instead, John smiled and said, “So, can I get a beer?”

Jo pursed her lips together, but nodded and led him to the counter. Dean was already there.

“Where's your mom?” Dean asked.

“Visiting my great-aunt in Omaha,” Jo said.

Dean raised a brow. “She lets you run the bar all by yourself?”

“It's just one night.” Jo flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Besides, I can take care of a few hunters. All I have to do is get them their drinks, laugh at their jokes, and refill the peanut bowls.”

“That's all?” Dean said with a smirk.

That son of a bitch.

“Dean.” John cleared this throat and Dean turned away. “I'll have a Miller Light, Jo.”

She glared at Dean, but he refused to return her look. She grabbed two bottles from the cooler and set them in front of the Winchesters.

“Thanks,” John said. He took a drink and looked around the bar. “This place hasn't changed.”

“Not much does around here,” she said, wiping down the wooden counter with a rag.

“You did.”

Her cheeks warmed at John's words. She remembered how her fourteen-year-old self used to have the biggest crush on him. Despite the fact he was old enough to be her father, having him around had been nice. She felt safe, protected--all the things her own father used to make her feel. Then, one day, John just stopped visiting. She had a feeling her mother had something to do with it. Didn't matter now. He was back.

Four

As soon as his father pulled into the motel's parking lot, Dean jumped out of the Impala and slammed the door shut. He reached into his coat pocket for the room key.

“Dean.” John barked his name. It echoed in the night air.

Dean ignored him and entered the motel room. He tossed the room key and his jacket on the nearby table before grabbing a can of Budweiser from the small refrigerator.

“What's wrong with you?” John asked once he got into the room.

“I'm sorry, Dad, but I had better things to do tonight that watch you try to pick up Ellen Harvelle's daughter.”

John's lips straightened into a thin line, but he remained quiet.

Dean pulled the tab on the beer can and guzzled the cold booze. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Everything inside him shook. It wouldn't take long before those feelings made their way out. He set the beer down and balled his hands into fists.

“Why did we come back here?” he asked.

John sighed and sat in the tattered yellow chair in the corner. Dean was used to seeing his father cower when forced to confront something he didn't want to, never a straight back unless holding a weapon. Right now, Dean's question was his only ammunition and John had no protection from it.

“I knew Jo's father,” John said. “I was with him when he died.”

Dean felt the wind get knocked out of him.

“We were on a job, setting a trap for a Hell spawn.” John paused. Was he fucking getting choked up? “I was the one who messed up, Dean. I got him killed.” He rubbed the back his neck. “That's why there's bad blood between me and Ellen.”

Dean widened his eyes. “Does Jo know any of this?”

“No, I don't think so. She knows Bill died on a job, but Ellen never told her about me. Jo was still a kid. She didn't need to know all the details.”

But Jo wasn't some little kid who needed the adults to keep her in the dark anymore. It didn't seem fair.

“You can't tell her either, Dean.” John's voice was hollow. “Give me your word you'll keep your mouth shut.”

He crossed his arms. “You never answered my question. Why did we come back here?”

John lowered his gaze to the carpet. “I told you. I knew Jo's father.”

So, he wanted to make amends. Maybe hear the words “I forgive you” come from Ellen or Jo. No way in hell was that going to happen.

Dean picked up his jacket and room key again.

John rose from the chair. “Where are you going?”

“I don't know. I don't care.” He left the room. And like he expected, his father didn't come after him.

Five

Another night had come to an end.

Jo finished mopping the floors inside the roadhouse and picked up the stuffed trashbag full of used napkins and discarded cigarette boxes. Normally, Ash would have been here to take it out, but he was spending a week in Vegas with some old MIT buddies. That asshole.

She lugged the plastic bag outside to the trashcan behind the bar. The cool air made the hair on her arms stand. She shivered without her jacket. Once she tossed the bag in the trashcan, she hurried back to the door.

But the moving shadow halted her steps.

She drew in a sharp breath, watching the shadow come closer. Her gaze darted to the baseball bat she kept propped against the building. She could get to it.

The shadow's footsteps quickened. Jo lunged for the bat, grabbing it with one motion. She spun around with the weapon raised high.

“It's me.” The figure lifted his arms to protect himself. Dean Winchester stepped into the dim overhead light. His startled face stared at her.

“Fuck.” She lowered the bat. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“I scared you? Another second and you would have bashed my head in.”

“You deserve it. What are you doing here anyway?” She looked over his shoulder. “Is your dad with you?”

Dean's lip curled. “Jesus, what is it with you two?” His attitude wasn't helping slow down her hammering heart.

“What did I do?” She put a hand on her hip. “Seriously, what did I do to make you hate me so much?”

“You're still holding the bat.”

That only made her tighten her hold on it.

Dean shuffled his feet. “I don't hate you. I don't even know you.”

“Damn right.”

“Let me finish.”

She gestured with the bat for him to continue.

“I'm just trying to figure you out.” The harshness in his voice diminished into something softer. “It's just that I get it. I know what it's like to have everything change around you and realize you haven't changed with it.” He bowed his head, giving it a shake. “Never mind. Forget I said that.”

Now her heartbeat slowed into a dull ache.

Jo put the bat away and opened the back door for them. He lifted his head to meet her gaze. With a silent invitation, she invited him inside. He accepted.

Back behind the bar, Jo opened two bottles of Miller Light and joined Dean at the stools. She rubbed her hand on her jeans and raised her bottle.

“Let's make a toast,” she said.

Dean let out a dry chuckle. “What exactly are we toasting to?”

She thought about it for a moment, then said, “To change.”

He smiled. “To change.”

They clicked their bottles together and drank to their toast. Right in front of Jo's eyes, Dean did change. In that moment, the bitter Dean vanished and a more relaxed Dean emerged. He rolled his shoulders back and he tucked his chin in as though he was shy. She didn't want to make it a big deal, but what he said earlier about changing and not changing was nothing to be embarrassed about. She felt the exact same way.

Jo cradled the bottle in between her thighs and swung her legs. “You could have waited until morning to come see me again.”

Dean gave her another smile, dimples popping out from both cheeks. “And miss this?”

Her face grew warm like with John earlier, but this--this was different.

It was a change.

“So.” She took a drink from her bottle and smacked her lips. “My mom told me your brother, Sam, goes to school at Stanford. Is he really studying law?”

Dean's smile faded, and she knew she had hit a wrong button.

“I mean, I bet Stanford needs a hunter on campus,” she said, setting the beer on the counter. It would probably leave a wet circle, but she had already put away the coasters. “Nothing's scarier than finals and drunk frat guys.”

When Dean cracked a smile, Jo let out a sigh of relief. She scooted closer to him until their knees touched. “How long has he been gone?”

He picked at the hem of his black utility jacket. “Almost four years.”

“That long, huh?” She put her hand over his. He flinched at the touch, but she kept her hand in place. She slid closer to him again, stepping down from the stool until she stood in between his legs. With her other hand, she cupped his cheek. The stubble scratched the inside of her palm. Her breathing quickened as she leaned forward to press her lips against his. She planted a soft, gentle kiss on his warm mouth.

When she pulled away, he asked, “Was that a pity kiss?” His hazel eyes searched her face.

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “But this one isn't.”

She kissed him again, harder this time. He deepened the kiss until she could taste traces of nicotine, beer, and mint inside him. She tugged on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him to her. Their teeth clang as their kisses became more desperate.

“Jo--” He pulled back. “I just want you to know I didn't--” She planted more kisses on his face while a wildfire burned deep in her. “--I didn't come here thinking this would happen--”

She stopped kissing him and tilted her head. “Don't you like how things change?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I do.” He hoisted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his torso and his erection pressed against her thigh. The feeling of it made her want to explode.

“Where's your bedroom?” he asked.

“Down the hall, to your right.” She rubbed herself against him, grabbing his spiky hair and nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. Forget the bedroom. If Dean wanted to, she would let him fuck her right there against the wall.

But Dean finally made it to her bed, dropping her on the small twin-sized mattress with light blue sheets. He didn't seem to notice how bare the room was with only a mirror, dresser, and a poster of Steve McQueen on her closet door.

He was more focused on her. Her breathing hitched as he pulled her boots off, then her socks. He raised a brow at the sight of her pink toenail polish.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

He chuckled and he moved his fingers to the buttons on her jeans, then he slowly lowered the zipper. Her back arched as the cold metal of his silver rings pressed into her naked legs. He ran his hands over the smooth skin, opening her thighs. Warm liquid pooled in her gut.

“Black panties,” he said, voice hoarse. “You are just full of surprises.”

Jo smiled and smacked the side of his leg with her foot. “There's more to come.”

“Oh, yeah?” He leaned over her, his heavy body pressing against hers. Her eyelids fluttered at the weight. It had been far too long since she felt a man on top of her like this. It felt safe, warm, solid, real. He gave her a quick kiss, but it still burned her lips. His right hand settled in between her legs and he pushed aside the black lace.

She moaned once the metal on his rings brushed against her already-sensitive area.

“Hey.” Dean's deep voice made her open her eyes wide.

She kept her steady gaze on him, biting down on her lip and digging her nails into his shoulders. He plunged a finger inside her. The warm liquid spread from her gut like spilled ink to her legs. She gasped when he pushed another finger in, stretching her a bit more.

Her eyes started to close when Dean called her name.

“Not yet,” he said again.

She forced her eyes to stay open and clung to his shoulders as he stroked her, teasing her until her climax neared.

Dean's other hand reached under shirt, cupping her left breast. He pinched her nipple through the thin silk fabric of her bra. That plus the magic his fingers were doing in between her legs drove her crazy.

“You close, baby?” Dean asked the question with his mouth pressed against her hot cheek.

“Yeah...so close...” she panted.

He covered her mouth with his, jamming his tongue inside. Normally, she would have hated this kind of roughness, but damn, she was close--so close--

Jo cried out as the orgasm shook her core. Her body went limp and it took her a moment to realize that Dean had stepped away from her. He rose from the bed to remove his clothing. She licked her lips at the sight of his muscled chest, flat stomach, and hipbones. When he unbuckled his belt, she held up her hand.

“Let me.” She slid her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the ground. Dean moved back to the bed as she got on her knees. Dressed in only her bar and panties, Jo pushed his jeans down to his knees. His cock bulged under his white boxers. She looked up at him, slow smile spreading on her face, and pushed the boxers down as well. It was time to return the favor.

She took Dean into her mouth, sucking and stroking his length. He groaned and ran his hands through her hair, guiding her as she bobbed her head back and forth.

“Shit, that feels good.” He grabbed fistfuls of her hair.

She swirled her tongue up and down, over and under, taking him all the way in until she almost gagged.

With a ragged “Fuck,” Dean came in her mouth. She swallowed in a frantic gulp and he pulled out. She wanted that fuck now.

She rose herself up on his knees until they were face to face.

“I like your mouth.” Dean's tongue flicked out to the corner and licked. He wrapped his arms around her, unhooking her black bra with ease. It made her wonder how many times he had done this sort of thing and how regularly he did this sort of thing. Didn't matter. He was doing it to her now. That was all that mattered.

When she was topless, he lowered his head to take an erect nipple into his mouth. He ran his tongue over it, biting down, then soothing it with this tongue again. She moaned, pulling on the back of Dean's short hair. He moved his mouth to the next breast, paying the same close attention to it. His mouth journeyed up to her neck, kissing her racing pulse.

“I like your mouth too,” she said, smiling.

He pulled back and returned her smile. “You are so damn sexy, you know that, right?”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Maybe a little.”

“Try a lot.” He stepped out of his jeans and boxers and took off his blue checkered flannel shirt. It fell next to her shirt and bra. “You on the pill?”

She nodded. “You got a condom?”

He found his wallet in the pile of clothing and revealed the square package. “Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.” Jo reclined in bed, propping herself up on her elbows. She licked her lips again as Dean put the condom on his hard cock. She could already feel him pumping, thrusting, driving himself into her--over and over and over--

She yelped when he grabbed her ankles and pulled her down the bed to where he stood at the edge.

“As much as I like the panties, they have to go.” He slid the garment down her legs. Silver moonlight washed over her nakedness, and Dean's gaze followed it until his eyes met hers.

Something changed in the room when that happened. Maybe it was the fact they were both fully-naked now, vulnerable and out in the open for the other. Maybe it was the amazing orgasms. Maybe it was knowing they were going to cross a line they couldn't undo. Whatever it was, the electricity in the air became more intense. Her stomach clenched with anticipation.

He stroked himself a few times before moving in between her legs. With a slight nudge to spread her thighs out more, he eased his cock into her. She gasped as he continued to push into her.

“Relax, baby.” Dean wrapped her legs around him, her ankles locking around her knees. He thrust forward and she felt the sensation ride up into her head. He pulled out slowly, only to thrust into her again; the next one harder than the next.

Her back arched and her hands traveled over her body. She squeezed her breasts to relieve the mounting tension.

“Oh, damn,” she gasped. “Oh, fuck.”

Dean grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. He leaned over her again, but this time with the amulet around his neck pressing against her chest, the contact of skin and skin made Jo groan.

He drove into her over and over, just like she had imagined. But this was better; this was the real thing.

So fucking real.

With one more thrust, groans and wails escaped their lips. Jo shuddered from the orgasm and when she blinked, she found her eyes were wet. Dean collapsed on top of her, breathless. His slick body felt like a piece of hot coal. He released her hands, and she didn't hesitate to embrace him.

“Hey.” She traced a line down his spine. He lifted his head, a smile already forming on his face. She kissed him, soft and gentle, to let him know she could do that too.

When they parted, Dean kept his head up. He kept looking at her.

Her cheeks warmed and she had the urge to pull the sheets over her body. “What?”

He tilted his head and said, “Nothing.”

Right. Nothing.

But Jo didn't press for anything more.

The room became quiet, and Jo found she liked sharing the silence with Dean.

Six

John had already taken a shower and grabbed breakfast when the motel door opened. Dean waltzed in like he hadn't been gone for the entire evening.

“Where the hell did you go?” John asked.

“Had to clear my head.” Dean turned his back, shuffling through the newspaper spread out on the table.

John narrowed his eyes. “You fucked her, didn't you?”

Dean still wouldn't face him.

“Answer me, dammit.” John charged Dean and spun him around by grabbing his shoulder. “You went back and saw Jo, didn't you?”

His son's eyes darkened. “So, what if I did? You pissed I fucked her first?”

John's right hand folded into a fist, ready to strike Dean, when his mind told him to stop. He took in a deep breath and unclenched his fist.

“That ain't right, Dean, and you know it,” he said. “You can't lead her on like she's some random girl you picked up from the bar.”

“She waits tables. Her mom freaking owns a bar. How is that any different?”

Because there's history.

And John had known Jo's father, had been there when Bill died. Had been the one to--

He forced the memory away and returned his attention to his son. “You can't see her again, Dean.”

He didn't blink at John's request.

“You hear me?” John said. His right hand twitched.

“I'll stop seeing her when you do,” Dean said.

John could only frown and stand still as Dean grabbed his duffel bag and headed into the bathroom. It wasn't until he heard the shower come on that he finally moved his feet.

**

John had to duck when he entered Harvelle's Roadhouse. The tin can bounced off the front door and clattered on the wooden floorboards.

“Get out.” Ellen stood behind the counter, her eyes turned into slits and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Hey, Ellen.” John raised his hands to show he had come in peace. He scanned the empty bar. Still too early in the afternoon for customers to be playing pool and sliding quarters into the jukebox. His gaze moved to the back hallway that led to the bedrooms. He wondered if Jo was here.

“It's been almost ten years, John.” Ellen's voice made him shift his gaze back to her. She put a hand on her hip. “I'd think I'd deserve more than a 'Hey, Ellen.'”

He approached her with caution. “You were the one who told me to stay away.”

“But yet here you are.” Her dark eyes glared at him. It made him stop in his steps. That Harvelle icy fire still burned.

“It's like what you said,” he said. “It's been almost ten years. Can't I come by and see how you and Jo are doing?”

Ellen's lips tightened. “You must think I'm stupid. You think I don't know what day is coming up?”

John lowered his head. Of course, he didn't think she would forget. It was something he always remembered as well. Why else did he drive all this way?

Ellen sighed. “Okay, now that you've seen how me and Jo are doing, it's probably best that you take Dean and go.”

“Ellen--”

“Go.” Her voice cracked. “There ain't no reason for you to be here. Not anymore.”

John nodded, knowing it was time to admit defeat. He shuffled to the door.

Outside, he slumped behind the steering wheel of the Impala and stared at the Roadhouse. He imagined a different scenario. One where he and Bill were speeding down the dirt road to get Bill home, anxious to tell the girls and the other hunters about their victory in California, how they had killed that Hell spawn. Bill would pull Ellen into his arms and swing Jo around and shout, “Next round is on me!” And there would be laughter and smiles and relief that they had made it home safely.

Instead, John sat alone in front of the Roadhouse, with nothing but his memories of what really happened.

Seven

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the motel room.

Dean gripped Jo's waist as she rocked back and forth on top of him. Her breasts bounced with each movement. He grabbed them, squeezing them in his palms and rolling her erect nipples with his fingers. He thrust up into her and she gasped. She sank further down on him and he groaned. They pushed, pulled, drove each other closer to the edge until they both fell over.

Jo cried out and went limp. He turned her over on her back, pushing her down on the mattress and thrusting into her several more times until he came hard into her. He buried his face into her damp neck. Breathless, he laid there for a moment without moving.

Jo curled her leg around his, holding him in place, and let out a small chuckle. “My mom is gonna be so pissed.”

He jerked his head up. “That you sneaked out or that you just had awesome sex with someone with the last name Winchester?”

“Both,” she said, grinning.

An image of Ellen chasing after Dean with a shotgun appeared in his head. After spending the afternoon fucking Jo against the motel wall and now in bed, it would be worth it.

“So.” He rested his head beside hers. “Is that why you risked your mom's wrath?”

Her grin stayed in place. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?” He grinned back at her.

“I wanted to ask you something.” She softened her voice. “Can I come with you?”

“Oh, darling, I think you already did.”

She smacked his arm. “You're gross.”

He laughed and pulled her back to him. She didn't protest.

“I mean it, Dean, “she said. “Take me with you.”

Dean's body tensed at her request. In the back of his head, he knew this would come up sooner or later. He just rather not have to deal with it at all.

He kept his arms around her. “You know I can't.”

“You can't or you won't?”

“Jo, do you know anything about hunting?”

She removed herself from his hold and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. “What do you think? My dad was a good hunter and I grew up surrounded by them.”

“Yeah, but do you know how to kill a vampire? Or what to use on shapeshifters? Or how to speak Latin? Experiencing the hunt ain't the same as hearing about the hunt.”

“I get it. I'm not good enough.” She started to pick up her clothes. “I don't know why I even bothered to ask. I should just stick to waitressing tables, right? That's all I know, and that's never going to change.”

Dean swallowed hard. Jo wanted change. She wanted to change. For the first time, he understood why Sam had left for school.

Jo slipped into her jeans and pulled her blouse over her head. She smoothed down her hair. “I thought you were different, Dean.” She picked up her tennis shoes and headed to the door.

“Wait,” he said.

She halfway turned back to him as though she was unsure if she could keep going or actually listen. He decided to not waste anymore time.

“I can't let you walk out that door.” A knot formed in his chest. “The last person I let walk away was my brother, and I've regretted it ever since. I don't want that to happen again.”

Jo finally faced him. Her eyes watered as she dropped her shoes to the ground.

“But Jo, my dad--”

“Forget your dad--”

“He would never agree to this,” Dean finished.

Jo tossed her head back. “I'll take care of him.” She crawled across the bed until she straddled Dean. “All that matters is that you want me with you.”

He looked into her deep brown eyes. “I want you with me.” The knot in his chest unraveled.

Eight

John was halfway back to the motel when his cell phone rang. He didn't recognize the number on the screen, but answered the call anyway.

“John?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Jo?”

“Hey, Dean gave me your number.”

He tightened his hold on the steering wheel. “Damn it. Are you with him right now?”

“I just left the motel.” She paused. “Can you meet me somewhere? We need to talk.”

“Listen, Jo, I just tried to talk to your mom,” he said. “I'm taking her advice and getting the hell out of town.”

“You can't leave yet. Please.”

Please.

A lump formed in his throat.

“Fine.” He pushed down on the gas pedal. “Where do you want to meet?”

Ten minutes later, he parked outside of Marge's Diner off I-80. He scanned the sea of truckers and rigs for Jo, but came up empty.

“John.”

He turned at his name. Jo stood behind him, dressed in form-fitting jeans and a green blouse. The sun bounced off her golden hair. She reminded him of Mary back when they were teenagers. It made his heart ache.

“Thanks for coming,” she said.

He gestured to the diner's door. “Buy you a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks.” She folded her hands together. “I'll make this quick.” With a deep breath, she continued. “I want to come with you and Dean. Take me with you.” She looked up at him like a child waiting for a parent's approval. But, Jo was no child. He could tell by the way the blouse clung to her breasts, the long legs under her jeans, and her porcelain skin.

Breasts that Dean had touched. Legs that Dean had wrapped around him. Skin that Dean had kissed.

He closed his eyes, thankful for the temporary darkness.

“John?”

He opened his eyes. Jo was still waiting for an answer.

“Did Dean put you up to this?” he asked.

“No.”

“He wants to take his new fuckbuddy on the road with him?”

John's head snapped back as Jo's hand collided with his left cheek. It stung for a moment before he rubbed the sensitive area.

“I deserved that,” he said softly. “I'm sorry.”

She sniffled. “I won't let you talk to me like that.”

He inhaled deeply and looked around the parking lot, anywhere but at Jo. Eventually, his gaze returned to her. Could he really take someone else from Ellen? If Bill had lived, would he have taken Jo on a hunt a long time ago? The questions buzzed in his head.

“You owe me.” Jo's voice was cold.

John snickered. “I owe you shit.”

She sauntered closer to him. It turned out Joanna Beth had the same icy fire as her parents.

“The anniversary of my dad's death is coming up,” she said. “Every year, I say a prayer, ask God to watch over my mom and me, hoping that it will help ease the pain just a little bit. It doesn't. Every year, the pain just gets worse.”

John understood that pain. It had been the same after Mary died. Every second that passed was worse than the next. It felt like a dull knife cutting his soul, layer by layer, until nothing was left.

“You're going to take me on the road, John.” She was no longer asking; she was demanding.

If he was going to do that, he had to make one thing clear. He was in charge.

He stood toe-to-toe to her. She didn't blink. Fuck, that turned him on.

He grabbed the back of her head and forced her mouth to his. She smelled like vanilla and sandalwood and tasted like peppermint.

When they pulled away, both were out of breath. John's heart hammed beneath his chest. He ran his tongue over his teeth; he could still taste mint.

Jo touched her swollen lips and stumbled back. Her wide eyes stared at him; her face mixed with fear and confusion.

Good.

He tilted his head back and said, “We're even now.”

Continue here

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 21:58:44 GMT

Yes, I'm alive. Just not in the posting mood.

Apparently, I go back into repayment this month for my undergraduate loans. Need to apply for deferment ASAP.

Need to finish revising my polybigbang fic and post it tonight, then that will be the end of my writing obligations for awhile.

Watching My Best Friend's Wedding right now isn't helping me. *sigh* And they're about to start the boat scene.

Well, at least Glee returns next week! And I have this to look forward to (warning: SPN spoilers!)

Anyway, I've been outlining my romantic comedy story idea and I think I love it a lot. And guess what? No one dies in it. But there will be angst. There is always angst ;)

hello november

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 08:45:13 GMT

Dude. Another week just passed without me posting to LJ. That sucks. It just means I've been working way too much. Anyway, I'm here now!

Happy belated Halloween. Hope you guys had a lot of fun. Met up with some friends and we went out to a club. Danced with a hot dog (as in it was a guy in a hot dog suit). And I was a cowgirl :) Look for the pic in a FO post.

Aside from working, I was also busy revising my novella, which I submitted just in time for the contest. It was due today and I sent it yesterday around noon. I don't think it's going to be selected, but hey, at least I tried. FYI: It's really uncomfortable writing sex scenes on your laptop when you're in a public library.

I post my polybigbang fic on Friday. That also needs some revision. It never ends. But irishbunnie made me an AWESOME poster for it. She never lets me down :D

I thought SPN was on hiatus so I missed it last week. That makes it three weeks in a row now. Judging from what I've read, it doesn't sound like I've missed much. I'm definitely tuning in Nov. 19 though ;)

Anyone else watching the original V series on Sci-Fi/Sy-Fy? Oh, 80s TV, gotta love it.

So, yeah, I've missed you guys (and having free time!), but tell me what's up. I promise I'll read the comments, but I think I'm going to crawl into bed soon. My body hasn't adjusted to daylight savings time yet.

And GOOD LUCK to everyone doing NaNo!!

Is is too early to yell BOO?

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 07:03:30 GMT

Dude. Where is my life? Yes, I've been MIA. Still working these 1-10 shifts that eat up my whole day. Received my first paycheck this Friday. Finally!

Now, I have two days off, but they will be spent revising/editing the novella. It's due Nov. 1 for the contest deadline. At this point, I don't think it's going to win or anything, but I want to at least submit it. Maybe the editors will be intrigued with the idea and invite me to submit the story as a longer piece. You never know.

Urban fantasy writer Justine Musk's latest blog entry here talks about "practice novels." It got me thinking about my own writing. What if my thesis for school--my market-ready manuscript--is a practice novel? What if I'm still practicing? She brings up the point that the reason why some writers aren't published yet is because they haven't failed enough. I wonder if I fall into that category. I've had my fair share of rejections so far, but maybe I haven't earned my writing scars yet. That article scares and inspires me at the same time.

In that case, the latest story idea to pop in my head is a romantic-comedy. Isn't that crazy? I think I want something light and fluffy to write. I've already cast Ryan Reynolds and Rashida Jones as my models, and they're so just pretty together that I have to make their characters fall in love. Even though I said no on NaNo this year, I'm debating if this will work.

I still have my cough.

And here, have a video of the Dead by Sunrise concert I went to last week at the Roxy.

I had a total blast! Chester was practically sweating on me (yes, I was in the front row!) I doubt I can ever stand that close to him again since LP plays stadiums and stuff. And I don't know why, but at this concert, I noticed all the cameras and people recording/taking pictures, which is cool and all, but I stopped bringing my camera to live concerts for a reason--so I could be in that moment, and it forces me to pay more attention and to remember things. Aside from the security issues, having a camera creates a filter, you know? Why watch a live concert through a screen when the actual show is right there in front of your eyes? *shrugs* That's just me. Anyway, they played all the songs I wanted to hear from the album. Hmmm...if I sang along with all the songs, does it count as me singing a duet with Chester? Hehe. Because, dude, that's something I've always wanted to do. Yeah, it totally counts.

Today's random, deep, obscure thought: Sometimes boys do stupid things. Sometimes they make you smile when they do stupid things. Sometimes you feel stupid when boys make you smile when they're doing those stupid things. If you understood any of that, here--have a virtual cookie.

P.S. I missed SPN for two weeks and I don't feel guilty about it at all. I still LOVE, LOVE Glee and Sons of Anarchy. And I'm sad no one wants to go see Paranormal Activity with me :( All my horror movie buddies are back in Michigan, I guess.

P.P.S. I'm new to the state of California and all, but I'm still sad both the Dodgers and/or the Angels aren't going to the World Series. I guess it's gonna be the East Coast representing!

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 20:09:45 GMT

Day off! FINALLY!

Dinner with halfdutch, then it's the Dead by Sunrise concert at the Roxy tonight! Whoot!

Found out one of my cousins back in Michigan had her baby today. A girl named Morgan :D

I'm on a biography kick. I just finished reading Captain Sullenberger's memoir (the pilot who landed the plane in the Hudson). Good, uplifting read. He talked a lot about how his past and his early love for flying helped prepare him for landing the plane safely. The past really does shape us, you know? At least that's what I took from it.

On Wednesday, I'm going to a social, where there will be media people there from newspapers/magazines. I plan to network my butt off.

Anyway, I have three days off, and I love it.

is it glee day yet?

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 00:10:27 GMT

It's kind of amusing that Southern California is freaking out over some rainy weather. I get that it might cause mudslides and stuff like that, but seriously, rain? I, on the other hand, cannot wait for it. I've been missing it. It's perfect weather to stay in bed and I actually don't mind the clouds. Conan brought up the impending storm last night too and I loved his little skit on "the breaking news." Haha. We both came out West at about the same time, so, everything he says I can basically relate to.

Bought my ticket to Dead by Sunrise today. Yea! In less than a week, me and Chester Bennington in the same room! I'm gonna buy the CD tomorrow since it just came out, but from what I've heard on youtube, I like all the songs. Have a listen.

**Guh. I love his voice.

Oh, did I mention I was going to be a cowboy(girl?) for Halloween? I debated on being Rachel Berry since I do own skirts and argyle, but I figured maybe not everyone would know who I was. Then, I saw the "Last Name" number on Glee and decided a cowboy would be cool. I pretty much have the entire outfit picked out from the hat to the belt buckle. I even have my little sheriff's deputy pin from when I graduated from the Citizen's Policy Academy :)

I'm brainstorming what my next writing project should be. Everything from romance to my YA to fanfic. I know I just finished my novella, but my fingers need to be on the keyboard, you know? I get jittery if I'm not writing. I doubt I can do NaNo though. With this job and the evening hours, I don't think my writing schedule can work. Or maybe I should stick with a smaller project until the next idea comes along, like querying agents again. I even thought about applying for the Clarion workshop since it's right here in San Diego, but then I had to remind myself I had to apply for the right reasons and I couldn't think of any. I think when my mindset is at the right place, I will apply. Who knows? Maybe in a few months when the applications are due, I will be.

It just sucks going through the motions. Ha. Maybe having the rainy weather around is a big deal after all. At least my cough is going away.

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 00:44:48 GMT

Whoo! Day off! I slept in! Read in bed! Currently reading Kathy Griffin's memoir and I love it. I uploaded some new icons including this gorgeous and sexy Finn/Rachel one by gigglemonster. Seriously, I'm in love with it. Makes me want to write fic becca_radcgg ;) And I made a new layout featuring my new OTP. Like I said in an earlier post, shiny!

Gonna head out now to buy some cough medicine, but yeah, so, what's up, people?

i should be in bed

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 08:36:31 GMT

Haven't posted in five days, but that's what happens when I work crazy 1-10 shifts. Anyway, the job is going well. I just have sore feet every night, but it's a good feeling to help customers find books and to see the smile on their faces when you hand them that particular book they were searching for. Yea! books!

Anyway, my body picked a good time to get sick :( I've had a bad cough for a few days now, like hacking cough. Not fun.

I really want to go see Paranormal Activity! It's playing in my area! Now I just have to convince some people to go see it with me. All my horror film buddies are back in Michigan :(

I also really want to see Dead by Sunrise on the 19th at the Roxy. It's Chester Bennington's (Linkin Park singer) side project. Any Cali folks interested?

Anyway, I still love my TV shows esp. Glee and Sons of Anarchy, and Nip/Tuck returns soon! I'm debating on signing up for apocabigbang because I really want to write SPN/Zombieland crossover fic :D And then there's also NaNo...oh, decisions, decisions...

the end?

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 05:35:03 GMT

I finished my angels/demons novella today! Whoo! 150 pages, 26K words. It's pretty much crap at this point, but I'm proud of it! I love the feeling of finishing a story esp. something new and original.

In the back of my mind, I hope the contest thing doesn't work out so I can spend more time with these characters and expand the story. I did a lot of research on angels/demons and there is some cool stuff I wish I could have put in, but it would have turned it into a full-fledged novel. Then again, if it doesn't work out, I think this novella could make a good prequel. I did leave the ending sort of open-ended. I guess we'll see.

devilwrites, I'm going to e-mail it to you by Wednesday.

*sigh* One more day of freedom before I start working a full-time job again.

Get your drabbles!

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 21:00:17 GMT

For jenab

It used to be the sound of his footsteps--heavy, quiet, light--all at the same time.

Sometimes he would use his fingers, run them through her hair, or skim her jaw before kissing her lips.

Maybe his voice in her ear. “I’m back.” His whispers made her body tingle like the electricity in the air minutes before gray storm clouds moved into the sky.

Lately, she would wake up before he even made it to the bedroom. She would watch his shadow return, a giant silhouette against the wall before it shrank into the man she loved. And instead of him surprising her, she would surprise him with an outstretched hand and a soft, “I missed you.”

For gigglemonster

Jo started smoking cigarettes the day she found out the Roadhouse had been burned to the ground. She didn’t find it ironic, more like fitting. She would feel smoke in her lungs and imagine the same for Ash and the others who had died in that fire.

If she didn’t have a cigarette in her mouth, her left leg jingled--a new tick to add to her collection.

Cigarettes also were a nice reward after a big hunt or a great fuck. No difference.

She thought she should feel guiltier about her bad habit, but one day while ordering a drink at a bar, she slipped a Marlboro in her mouth and a hand flicked open a Zippo in front of her. She stared at the cerulean flame before lifting her gaze to Dean. Without saying a word, she ignited her cigarette and took a long, satisfying puff. She wasn’t surprised when Dean lit up his own cigarette. They smoked side by side in a comfortable silence.

Jo guessed it was true. Bad habits did die hard.

For joans23

If Sookie had knocked, Eric hadn’t notice. He sat on the hotel couch, his face still stained with his bloody tears.

Sookie slowly approached him holding a white shirt. Godric’s white shirt. She handed it to him silently. He held the shirt to his face and smelled the sunlight on the fabric, the death of his maker.

“Thank you,” he said. If he still had a working heart, it would have given out already.

For demoninmypocket

Before Ruby even saw Sam, she had already forgiven him. She knew if Dean hadn’t shown up at the church, he wouldn’t have resisted. Everything would have worked out perfectly. Everything.

It just took a little bit longer to get to where it could be perfect again.

Ruby stepped out into the December snowfall. Her boots sank into the cold ground. She did not shiver.

“It’s a beautiful world, isn’t it, Ruby?” His voice was warmer than any summer day.

She turned to Sam. He looked angelic in his white suit. “Very beautiful.”

For lisek16

Rambaldi.

Sydney never thought she would have to hear that name again, but it was back. She suddenly felt like she was sitting in a secluded office, surrounded by her father and other agents. Instead, she sat in her living room, surrounded by Isabelle’s coloring books and Jack’s race cars.

She flipped through the dossier Dixon had mailed to her. There were copies of e-mails, phone numbers, and black and white photographs including one of Sark, which didn’t surprise her.

Laughter made her look outside the window. Her little boy tossed the football into the air for Vaughn to catch. Sydney smiled at the sight. This was her life now, but when she looked back at Dixon’s package, a familiar excitement started to spread in her bones.

“Mom?” Isabelle held out an orange crayon. “Wanna color with me?”

Sydney’s smile grew along with her excitement. She took the crayon from her daughter. This was her life now. Rambaldi’s secrets would have to stay lost for a little while longer.

For roseredathena

Dean likes to watch Ruby bleed too, but he isn’t like his brother. He doesn’t become intoxicated with the coppery scent; he doesn’t lick his lips in anticipation. He just tilts his head and watches the scarlet flow down Ruby’s smooth skin. He studies the pathways it makes, how unique each design is, and he smiles at the art he has created.

“More.” Ruby’s ragged whisper catches his attention. He tightens his hold on the knife and moves to the bed again. The orange light from the fireplace flickers across Ruby’s glazed expression. She arches her back, twisting her wrists in the ropes that bind her to the headboard. Sweat mixes with blood.

Dean leans over, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. She whimpers when he pulls away. He presses the blade across her flat stomach, a little harder, harder, until another design appears. Ruby moans in his ear.

And he thinks maybe one day, he can dig deeper, push harder, and then his masterpiece will be complete.

For becca_radcgg

“You look like an eggplant.” Puck’s gaze moves up and down Rachel’s body with his usual smirk plastered on his smug face.

Rachel lowers her head and smoothes down the front of her new sweater. She doesn’t want anyone else in practice room to see her fluster. “For your information, it’s aubergine.”

“What?”

“Aubergine,” she says. “It’s another shade of violet along with lavender, lilac, and wisteria.”

“Whatever.” Puck sits in his seat and starts up a conversation with Mike.

Rachel breathes a sigh of relief and moves to the piano, where Finn is playing a terrible rendition of “Chopsticks,” and she wonders how she can have feelings for someone who can’t even perform something as simple as “Chopsticks.”

Then, he looks up and smiles at her. She doesn’t wonder anymore.

“May I?” She gestures to the space next to him on the bench.

“Sure.” He moves over to make room. “Nice sweater.”

She smiles as her cheeks grow warmer. “Thank you.”

He starts “Chopsticks” again, and this time, she joins in. Their fingers glide across the black and white keys effortlessly.

“It sounds better.” Finn tucks his chin, like he’s suddenly shy. “With you.”

Rachel’s heart pounds underneath her aubergine sweater. If Puck was looking at her right now, he’d probably call her a beet.

Fri, 02 Oct 2009 21:34:31 GMT

Taking a writing break today to go watch "Zombieland." Should be fun!

And I cannot stop listening to the new AFI CD! Go buy a copy!

oh, shiny!

Thu, 01 Oct 2009 07:32:22 GMT

Bigger caps here by rinslet

Uh. I may be OTPing them on the show and in real-life.

psst...

Thu, 01 Oct 2009 02:53:58 GMT

I reached my word count, so, leave me some drabble prompts, okay?

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 21:07:26 GMT

If I reach my word count today, I'm gonna play around with these later :)

Borrowed from crickets

~~Fic~~ Drabble Prompts!

Leave me a prompt with the following:

a.) fandom + pairing + color + title of an album
or
b.) fandom + pairing + color + title of a movie
or
c.) fandom + pairing + color + title of a book

Fandoms: SPN, Lost, Alias, True Blood, crossovers are welcome if they are in those fandoms

new music day

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 21:27:27 GMT

Just returned from Best Buy with the new AFI, Paramore, and Alice in Chains CD. I'm only on AFI's second track and I can already tell I'm going to love the entire album. Funny story: At the store, I was basically following this sort-of cute guy through the music aisles picking up the CDS. When we got to Paramore, he held up his stack and said, "Looks like we're looking for the same music." I just laughed and said, "Yeah." My skillz, yo...I love it.

I also picked up a DVD/VCR combo that can record my TV shows. It was expensive, but that's what a credit card is for, I suppose.

My cousin is planning a night out for me with some friends to celebrate my new job. Haha. It's just a job at Borders, but any reason to have fun is fine by me! We're thinking dinner at Olive Garden, then who knows?

That means I should get some writing in while I can. Still loving the story, and even though it's for a novella contest, I can totally see it as a novel. That's usually a bad thing, but if the contest doesn't work out, at least I have some decent material for a new novel.

sooner or later

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 04:30:09 GMT

Ask me a fandom, and I will tell you:

+ OTP
+ Runner-up
+ Honorable mention(s)
+ Crack pairing(s)
+ Ship everyone else seems to like, but I don't

woke up this morning...

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 19:22:14 GMT

Got myself a job!

I had a job interview at Borders on Friday and the manager wanted me to come back for a second interview, so, imagine my surprise when he called me today and offered me the position right away. Whoo! I'll take it. A job is a job. I've been looking since I moved out here and I was getting a little worried there because I couldn't live on my savings forever. Yea, income!

An interesting thing I learned at the interview is that Borders is going through a new hiring policy, where they want the employees to know more than one genre. Most of the current employees read just one genre and like to stick in that genre when making recommendations and helping customers. I guess my background/education really did help because I totally played up the fact that I have connections to my writing and school message boards so I can get book recs from children's books to romance.

Anyway, this is a good thing! And if anyone comes into the store asking about Twilight, I can kindly point them to the good vampire books instead! Just doing my part in society :D

Well, it's another writing day for me. I don't have a start date yet for the new job, but I want to get as much writing in as I can before I enter the workplace again.

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 05:14:34 GMT

Today was a good writing day. I reached my goal of 15K, and I wrote something that made me shiver. It was only a few lines of dialogue, but it gave me chills (in a good way). It's been a long since I shivered at something I wrote. Even my cousin could tell I was in a good mood and I had to tell her why. When I told her the lines, she liked it too. She says she can't wait for the movie to come out. Haha. Anyway, the novella is picking up. I've reached the middle/climax and now everything is moving faster. Lets hope the writing does the same ;)

SPN Fic: "Sober"

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 20:37:34 GMT

Sober
Supernatural
Sam/5x03 female character
5x03 spoilers
PG-13
Summary:

The demon blood was still on Sam’s face when he returned to the motel. Lindsay followed, quietly shutting the door behind her. She didn’t say anything. He didn’t either.

His hand shook as he dropped the set of keys on the nightstand. His gaze fell on the bed, where he had spent the last few nights talking to Jess. He needed her now more than ever.

“Sam.”

He was startled to hear his name--his real name--come from Lindsay’s mouth. He had always been Keith to her, but that was before tonight.

She twisted her hands together, and he waited for the questions to begin: Who are you? Who were those men? Why did they make you drink blood? Was it really demon blood?

Who are you?

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He blinked. He hadn’t expected that.

“Yeah.” His voice shook along with his hands. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

Lindsay nodded and said, “We should you clean you up.” She went to the bathroom and returned with a damp washcloth. She lifted her hands to his face and hesitated.

Sam turned his head. He must look like a monster, a freak.

Lindsay touched his cheek and turned his head back to her. There was something in her eyes that reminded him of Jess. She cared about him too, but the difference was she was real. She was standing right in front of him. He could close his eyes, and when he opened them, she would be there.

She wouldn’t disappear.

Lindsay wiped the towel on his chin, over his mouth, and then his cheek. She did it carefully, tenderly, like she was sprinkling kisses on his face.

He grabbed her wrist and lowered her hand to his chest. His heart hammered. The last person who did that to him was Ruby. He clenched his jaw, angry at himself for even thinking of her.

“Sam.” Lindsay’s voice jarred him again. “You had a knife to another man’s throat, and instead of hurting him, you let him go.” She kept her eyes locked with his. “I don’t know what’s going on, but tonight could have ended very differently.”

He swallowed hard. “I tried, Lindsay, I tried--”

“I understand.” She laid her palm flat on his chest, right over his tattoo. “Actually, no, I don’t understand, not all of it, but the addiction thing, whatever you think you need, it’s all in your head. It’s a big mind game.”

Like cat and mouse, and he was the piece of cheese right in the center of it all.

“You must be tired.” He stepped away from her. “I’ll make sure you get home safely in the morning.”

“What about you?” Lindsay asked. “Are you taking off? New town? New job? New name?”

His shoulders tensed. “Maybe.”

“I actually liked Keith.” The small smile on her face showed she wasn’t just talking about his name.

Sam’s throat went dry as she moved to him again. She ran her fingertips through his hair before resting her hand on the nape his neck. He shivered.

“Lindsay…”

She dropped her hand, frowning. “You’re right. I am tired.”

He hadn’t meant to reject her, but he told himself it was better this way. No more attachments. No more feeling or emotions.

No more anything.

That was wrong. If he shut down now, that would truly make him a freak.

She turned from him and before she could take another step, he took her wrist again. He pulled her back to him and cupped her face with his hands. This time when he looked into her eyes, he saw Lindsay, his co-worker at the bar who had bought him dinner, the only friend he had right now.

He kissed her, grabbing handfuls of her blond hair. Their waists connected. She responded by deepening the kiss. He tasted strawberries on her lips.

She moaned softly as she pulled his T-shirt over his head. Her hands traveled down his chest, to his stomach, his belt buckle.

He maneuvered them to the bed. Laying over her, he paused. He was breathless; his heart wouldn’t stop pounding; and his skin prickled with electricity. This wasn’t from any high or any dosage of demon blood.

This was real life, living in a moment where it wasn’t all in his head.

To make sure, Sam closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. What if he had drank that blood? What if he had slit that hunter’s throat? What if Lindsay hadn’t come back to the motel with him?

What if he never saw Dean again?

Warm fingertips caressed his cheek. He opened his eyes. Lindsay was still there. She smiled and reached for him.

THE END

****

I was going to write this fic anyway, but apparently, it DID happen. We just never got to see it. You suck, Kripke.

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 23:21:38 GMT

Hey, folks. Well, I've been kind of all over the place lately. Running around applying for jobs. I'm going into retail now since none of the magazines/newspapers are biting. I do have an interview with Borders on Friday, so, wish me luck!

I bought a bed this week. No more sleeping on the floor.

I have two weeks to write 10K if I want time to revise/edit my angels/demons novella. devilwrites, I hope you can still look it over. I'm on my way to the library now to put some words on paper.

So, it's officially autumn, but it's 90 degrees outside. I'm definitely in California.

i love the angst

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 02:31:48 GMT

SPN vidders! Make a Sam and Dean video to this song! PLEASE! It just screams brotherly angst esp. after what we saw in 5x02.

"Roadside" by Rise Against

Tell me what I'm supposed to do
With all these left over feelings of you
'Cause I don't know

And tell me how I'm supposed to feel
When all these nightmares become real
'Cause I don't know

And I don't think you see the places inside me that I find you
And I don't know how we separate the lies here from the truth
And I don't know how we woke up one day and somehow thought we knew
Exactly what we're supposed to do

So leave me at the roadside
And hang me up and out to dry
So leave me at the roadside
And hang me up and out to dry

And I don't think you see the places inside me that I find you
And I don't know how we woke up one day and somehow thought we knew
Exactly what we're supposed to do

So leave me at the roadside
And hang me up and out to dry
So leave me at the roadside
And hang me up and out to dry

'Cause I don't think you see the places inside me that I find you
And I don't know how we woke up one day and somehow thought we knew
Exactly what we're supposed to do
Exactly what to do

i'm six years old

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 00:34:48 GMT

Just watched the season premiere for The Office. LOVED IT! :D <---That was me the entire time. Hehe. LOVED, LOVED that Andy, Michael, and Dwight were doing Parkour in the intro--haha! So funny and unexpected because I love Parkour and to see it on The Office? I wonder what was going on in the writers room. And I loved how they addressed gossip because office gossip is like wildfire. And interns! Reminds me so much about my old office workplace :(

Speaking of my old job, my friend/former co-worker had her baby on Thursday! A healthy baby boy named Patrick! I was there when she found out about the pregnancy; now I can't believe he's finally here!

**JOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

**I really hope it's the writers intention to bring Rufus and/or the Harvelles back in the future. Well, first of all, they didn't die. And Ellen had the line about putting her number on speed dial. With Bobby out of commission for a bit, maybe the boys will turn to Ellen for intel again like they used to back in season two.

**Not enough Jo, but like I said, I think this episode was a way to introduce the Harvelles back into the show. And if there is going to be a big war in the end with Lucifer, then hell yeah, they better return. Gah. I know I should be more upset that after two years that's all we get of the Harvelles, but I'll take what I can get. And I'm hanging out to that fact they'll be back. Plus, would Samantha Ferris and Alona Tal return for that small of airtime, not unless they were told they might be returning? And it's not a secret the gals like their characters and the show.

**Okay, it kind of sucks that the guys Sam killed were not demons, but humans. And hunters! Remember Steve Wandell, Sammy? I wish we could have had some sort of reaction moment when he found that out esp. when he saw the blood on the knife. Because ew.

**And I hate the story structure of this show. Every freaking episode ends with a talking scene and once again, the boys are near the Impala spouting off some exposition.

**I don't think the boys will be broken up for long. Just enough for some Castiel and Dean hijinks and Sammy soul-searching.

Missed my last day with this meme because I spent the day in LA yesterday. It all works out though because...

day 01 | a song
day 02 | a picture
day 03 | a book/ebook/fanfic
day 04 | a site
day 05 | a youtube clip
day 06 | a quote
day 07 | whatever tickles your fancy

Today is my sixth LJ anniversary!!

Anything from my list at the Fall Fandom Free-For-All would make me a very happy birthday girl :)

| Here is my thread

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 06:18:15 GMT

day 01 | a song
day 02 | a picture
day 03 | a book/ebook/fanfic
day 04 | a site
day 05 | a youtube clip
day 06 | a quote
day 07 | whatever tickles your fancy

"Most hunters come through that door think they can get in my pants with some... pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV."--Jo Harvelle, "Everybody Loves a Clown," SPN 2.02

**

Hmm...will post SPN thoughts in the morning, but does anyone have a copy of Foreigner's "Long, Long Way From Home" (the song in the "On the Road So Far" intro) they wanna share? Thank you!