Jo (_enihpesoj) wrote in papillonlogs, @ 2011-01-06 17:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | dean winchester (2), jo harvelle (2), sam winchester (2) |
Who? The B-Team
What? Jo finally gets on that whole "waking up" thing (after a self-indulgent dream scene, woo)
Where? The woods or something? Wherever Dean has dragged them.
When? Afternoon of today (the 6th)
Rating? TBC
She’d been walking for a long time. Only, that was wrong, it wasn’t just ‘ a long time,’ it was that she’d always been walking. She was going to find Rick, she had to find Rick, because he knew why she was walking, he knew where she was going. He knew how to stop.
“There’s something behind us,” Sam said from beside her. He was the Sam she lived with, the one with the tremors and the nightmares and the drinking problem, but he was nineteen and wearing the Stanford Law sweatshirt that she and Jess had pooled their money to buy him when she’d gone to visit them on a long weekend when she couldn’t take school any more and wanted to see how someone who loved it lived. It was the only time she’d spent with Jess without Sam there too, he’d been in class and they’d driven around in Jess’ car until they’d found a farmer’s market just outside of town and sat on the hood of the car with the radio playing eating oranges under a sun so hot their hair was warm to the touch even after they’d gotten back in the air conditioned car. Jess had peeled oranges with a knife Sam had given her, ostensibly for that purpose, that Jo recognized had protective sigils carved into the hilt and talked about the different perspectives on the organic food movement while pop music blared in the background. She’d been earnest and funny without having to be self-depreciating and clearly adored Sam without pretense or artifice. Jo hadn’t talked much and they hadn’t exactly had a heart to heart, couldn’t when Jo was lying about everything in her life except that her name was Jo Harvelle, she was like a cousin to Sam, she went to college in Colorado. Still, on the way back to the apartment they’d somehow felt enough camaraderie to buy Sam that sweatshirt and hang it up in his closet, joking about how long it would take him to even notice the gift. When Dean had called to tell her Jess was dead the funeral was already over but Jo had Rick take her to California and they broke into the cemetery to bury hex bags she’d researched on the drive over, protection from anything that desecrated graves, that used bodies. She hadn’t worried about Jess coming back as a vengeful spirit, couldn’t really have imagined it.
“There’s something behind us,” Sam said again and Jo nodded. “I know, but I can’t go back for it.” Sam looked at her reprovingly and stepped off the path. “Christ, Sam, don’t-“ she started but maybe the path was moving too because she’d sped up without changing her pace and he had already been left behind.
“I asked you to look out for him,” Dean said from just ahead of her. She knew he couldn’t look back at her or they’d never find their way out. But wasn’t I looking for Rick? No. That was before.
“I’m sorry-“ she started, reached out for him, but the smoke filled up her throat, choked her words off, and the woods were on fire.
Or maybe the fire was just behind her eyes. The heat was building impossibly, charring her from the inside out and the smoke was too thick in her throat for her to scream and then it was somehow in her eyes and all there was, was smoke and pain and a pressure that just kept building until she was certain that if she couldn’t die she’d just go crazy from being compounded inside it, just lose her--
The sun was in her eyes. That was how she realized they were open, that she was awake. She turned her head, felt bruises she most emphatically did not remember having scream protests at the movement and a swimming in her head that blurred her vision for a moment. When it resolved again she saw Sam sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala (Why’s he so high up? she thought before dimly registering that she was on the ground next to the car, head pillowed by something soft) staring at her with enough intensity to alarm her into trying to sit up despite the pounding in her head.
“What’s wrong? Where’s Dean?” she demanded, or tried to demand, words slurring with sleepy confusion and voice raspy from apparent disuse so that only a few syllables sounded out clear. There was a high-pitched whine from next to her and a moment later Animal was standing over her, tail wagging frantically, and looking like he was considering how best to meld himself to her side so as to leave as little distance between them as possible. She muttered a curse and closed her eyes again for a moment, as if she just needed to concentrate hard enough and this would somehow resolve itself into something that made some kind of sense. And hopefully doesn’t feel like I got run over by a fucking semi-truck