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24 August 2007 @ 02:55 pm
dismantle. repair. {Dean/Jo}  
Title: dismantle. repair.
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Jo Harvelle
Word Count: 3484
Warnings: Blood.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Dean and Jo would be going at it like bunnies. They're not mine.
Prompt: North Dakota (spn_50states)
Summary: It's silly to miss something you never knew you had.
Notes: Quite possibly the longest fic I've written in years. The idea started out with one scene and sort of grew from there, but there was still no plot. So when I signed up for the spn_50states challenge, I jumped on this. Only half beta'd, so any mistakes left are my fault.


----------


Dean liked the girl, really, he did. But it was times like this that he hated Jo Harvelle.

"You're not coming."

"The hell I'm not! And since when did you start taking what my mom says to heart, anyway?" Jo spat.

"Since she threatened to cut down the Little General with some spare wire," Dean shot back, resisting the urge to cover his crotch in fear of Ellen overhearing their argument. "And I'm pretty sure that wouldn't go over well with you, either." He raised an eyebrow, stating his victory.

Jo moved around the car and stood face-to-face with him. "Leave me behind again, and you won't have to worry about sending him into active duty again anytime soon." Dean might've been more intimidated if she weren't a full head shorter than him. It didn't stop her from stepping into him and pressing her body against his. "And since when did he become the little general?" she asked with a slight squeeze of his crotch.

Dean groaned with defeat. "Fine. Get in."

Jo's face lit up with her I win! grin. Something Dean was getting sick of seeing. She hopped into the backseat and Dean and Sam took their usual positions; Dean behind the wheel and Sam riding shotgun. The Impala's engine purred to life and the countryside started to blur past them.

"What do we got?"

Sam flipped through some papers as Foreigner poured through the car's speakers. "Wishek, North Dakota. Twenty years ago a woman was hung by her husband in the backyard. Since then she's been raising hell on any guy lucky enough to cross her path. There've been several cases of people who've sighted an apparition."

"So she got screwed over by a sonuvabitch and now she's taking it out on all men? Typical," Dean scoffed. A hand smacked him upside the head. "Ow, what was that for?" He glared at Jo in the mirror.

She smirked. "Let's just get out there and put this bitch to rest, alright?"

Dean's foot fell heavier on the accelerator.

***

"You son of a bitch!" Jo stood, looking more than a little pissed off, one hand on her hip and the other pointed in Dean's face.

"Hey, you said you wanted to come. You're here. Now you're staying here," Dean said, backing towards the door.

"You could use my help and you know it. In case you haven't noticed, you're sort of her type."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Dean!" Jo screamed as he pulled the door shut behind him.

"That was cruel," Sam said as Dean approached him.

"What am I supposed to do, Sam? You saw what happened last time."

"Yeah, and I also saw how proud she was of the scar she got as a souvenir," Sam countered.

"I'm not putting her in danger again. I just won't." Dean opened the driver's side door and crawled inside. He waited for Sam to join him and then took off. Wolf House wasn't far from the motel. He hoped Jo wouldn't be stupid enough to follow them.

***

Either their reputations preceded them, or this was just one truly pissed off spirit. Dean was already sporting claw marks across his right bicep from when she took a swing at him. Sam was in a corner of the basement with a shovel uncovering her remains while Dean played decoy.

Their plan was working. Until she disappeared.

Things remained quiet for a good five minutes; Dean with his shotgun cocked and Sam still digging away. Something moved in the corner of his eye and when Dean turned, he saw the outline of a woman in the shadows. He opened fire. Shoot first, ask questions later. Something John had taught him, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Then why did he have that sick feeling in his gut the minute he pulled the trigger?

He knew something was wrong when he heard the body hit the floor. Locking eyes with Sam, he knew they shared the same concern. They sprinted across the room, Dean reaching the crumpled body first.

"Oh god," Dean mumbled, moving away dirty blonde hair to find an even dirtier face.

"Jo," Sam's voice was barely above a whisper.

He had told her to stay back at the motel, that they'd call if they needed her help. She had promised her mother that she wouldn't go on anymore hunts with the Winchesters (trust issues, pffft) so if Ellen found out she was here, hurt, possibly dying - no, that wasn't an option. Jo was a fighter. There was no way in hell she'd let a measly blast of rock salt end her days of glory.

Dean reached out to check her wounds, praying it wasn't serious. He knew firsthand what it was like to get shot with a round of rock salt. Stung like a bitch.

When she coughed, it had to be the happiest moment of Dean's life, despite the drops of blood that lined her lips. She blinked, pausing a minute before attempting to sit up. Dean held her down.

"Don't push it."

"I'm fine," Jo spat, but Dean didn't buy it. He'd seen her tough chick act too many times before.

Their argument over her well-being came to an abrupt stop when Sam was thrown across the room. Dean immediately jumped to his feet, big brother instincts taking hold and blinding him to anything - anyone - else.

Dean tried to aim for the angry bitch but couldn't get a clear shot without hitting Sam as well. As a last resort he attempted to divert the spirit's attention from Sam to himself, cursing at her, pissing her off until she let go of her hold on the younger Winchester and came after the elder.

He was ready for whatever she threw at him, or so he hoped. It wasn't like Dean Winchester to show a moment of weakness at a time like this. So when the blast rang out and the spirit went up in a cloud of smoke, it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

Jo lowered her shotgun, grinning from ear to ear at the look of shock on Dean's face. She looked a little worse for wear with the blood drying on her lips and the dirt and dust caked on her face, but she looked so proud, so confident. Dean loved that about her. She always found a way to pull through and brush the dirt off her shoulders.

"Told you I'm fine."

Dean grinned. That's his girl.

She tossed a box of matches to Sam who caught them with one hand while pouring salt into the grave with the other. Lighting up and tossing the burning match into the grave, his face was outlined by the orange light cast from the dancing flames.

The spirit appeared before them, screeching and melting into a pile of ashes. Jo walked to Dean's side and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her back and placed his hand on her hip. Feeling a little cocky from the adrenaline of a successful hunt, his hand dipped lower and squeezed her butt.

He was expecting her to slap it away, but when she didn't, when she just gave him that sly smirk of hers, he knew it was all going to be okay.

***

The hot water was a refreshing release from the dirt and grime of a long day's hunt. Jo leaned her head back, the water rushing over her face. Her chest, still sore from the blast of rock salt, trembled under the steady spray.

She pushed wet hair behind her ears and reached for the soap when it hit. A sharp pain ripped through her abdomen, throwing her off balance. She clutched at her stomach and blinked, urging her vision to pull itself back together. The first thing to come into focus was water, tinged red, rushing down the drain.

Panic settled in as she frantically tried to see where it was coming from. A hand slipped between her thighs; pulling out, it was stained red with blood. She breathed a faint oh god before the next wave of pain crashed over her. She doubled over, leaning against the back of the shower for support.

"Dean, help!"

Moments seemed like years before the door crashed open and the shower curtain was ripped aside. Strong arms wrapped around her trembling frame, but it wasn't Dean. Sam tried to comfort her as she sat, arms wrapped around stomach and knees brought up close to her chest.

Dean dropped the bag of takeout in the doorway and rushed over, turning off the shower and noticing the excess red.

"What happened?" His eyes flashed between Jo and Sam, trying to make sense of the mess.

Jo gritted her teeth and pressed her forehead into her knees. The pain seared under her skin. Her only thought was that this must be the end. She heard Dean mutter something to his brother and then Sam left her side, only to be replaced by Dean.

He lifted her up, supporting her full weight as her legs threatened to crumble beneath her. He helped her into his jacket; it always hung off her shoulders, the bottom falling just above her knees, and tonight was no exception. Sweeping her into his arms, he rushed her out to the Impala where Sam was waiting, the engine already rumbling and ready to go.

Dean helped Jo into the backseat and scooted in next to her, slamming the door shut and ordering Sam to get the hell moving. Jo saw the terror in Sam's reflection in the rearview mirror just before the Impala sped off, and the world started spinning before her eyes. She leaned her head back, eyes closed, trying to keep down her dinner. Dean's hand wrapped around hers and everything started to calm.

She looked at him. The concern he was showing was something she'd rarely seen him show anyone. Except Sam, of course. And Sam was number one in Dean's life.

She could settle for number two.

The weak smile on her face disappeared when another shot tore through her stomach. She doubled over and squeezed Dean's hand until she was sure it would break. The whispers of comfort and assurance were only dull murmurings before everything went black.

***

Dean sat at Jo's side while Sam was briefed by the doctor on Jo's condition.

"She's going to be fine. She will, however, need to return for a D&C."

Sam scrunched up his face. "D&C?"

"Dilation and curettage. It's a follow-up procedure where we go in and clean up what's left of the embryo and placenta. It's a safe and routine procedure," Dr. Fitzroy explained.

Sam nodded, throwing a concerned look at his brother hovering over a sleeping Jo. "So she can come home tonight?"

"I'll have her cleared and ready to go as soon as you're ready."

"Great. Thanks," Sam flashed a forced smile and brushed past the doctor to explain things to Dean in words he could understand.

Sam motioned for Dean to join him across the room. His brother took one fleeting glance at Jo before sidling over.

"Well?" Dean asked.

"She's gonna be okay." Sam noticed some of the tension fall from Dean's shoulders. "She just needs to come back and have what's left of the embryo cleaned up."

Dean looked confused. "Wait a minute. Embryo?" He scratched his head and looked back at the bed. Turning back to Sam, he whispered, "Jo was pregnant?"

"Yeah." Sam paused. "I thought you knew."

"No, man, I had no idea!"

Sam knew Dean and Jo's relationship had some quirks, as did any relationship that started with sex first, emotions later, but he knew Jo. And he knew she wouldn't have been able to keep something like this to herself.

"Maybe she didn't know, either."

"You guys talking about me?"

Dean and Sam turned simultaneously to see Jo trying to sit up. Dean rushed to her side and immediately made her sit back down.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked.

"Like Ash slipped me some of his special recipe brownies again," Jo answered groggily. "What happened?" Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "Tell me, or neither of you are having children."

Sam's stomach twisted. Oh, the irony.

Dean remained silent. Sam knew he wasn't sure how to go about breaking the news to Jo. He was never very good at that sort of thing, always left it up to Sam.

"Jo..." Sam paused, thinking of the best way to state it. He took a seat next to the bed, across from Dean, so he could be closer, more intimate. "Was there something you wanted to tell us?"

Jo's eyebrows scrunched together. "Like what? That I used Dean's razor to shave my legs last week?"

Dean opened his mouth to speak but Sam cut him off. "You really didn't know."

"Know what?" Jo glanced between the two brothers. "Sam, tell me," she pleaded. He could tell she was worried.

Sam leaned forward in his chair. "The baby."

Jo sat in awe for a moment. Sam wished she would say something. The silence hanging in the air was unbearable.

"Baby?" She stared hard at Sam. "I'm... pregnant?"

"Was," Dean finally spoke up.

Jo's head snapped towards him on the other side of the bed. "You mean...?" she trailed off.

"I'm sorry, Jo," Sam comforted. Her glistening eyes locked onto his and he felt his insides turn upside down.

Jo bit her bottom lip. No one spoke. No one moved. Sam felt a cough tickle at the back of his throat and swallowed it because letting it out would be too awkward.

Dean's eyes never left Jo's. Sam could sense his worry.

"You feel like getting out of here? All these sterilized walls are makin' me sick," Dean said.

Sam knew this technique well. Avoid the problem. Though they both knew a change of location would do nothing to suppress what they all felt at that moment. But the lightened atmosphere at the return of sound, of breathing, told Sam it would work at least until they got to the car.

"But-" Jo started; Sam lifted up a duffel bag. "Nevermind. Thanks, Sam. Although Dean might've liked it better if I had to walk out of here nekkid."

Sam blushed. He didn't know why. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd seen her without clothes. At least this time he wouldn't have gotten an eyeful of his brother underneath her.

Dean helped Jo out of bed and carried the bag of clothes to the bathroom for her. Sam wouldn't have been surprised if Dean had tried to help her get dressed. Wouldn't have been the first time.

Jo finished changing and came back out, seemingly as anxious as Dean to get out of the hospital. Sam couldn't help but notice something different about her. Paler skin. The half-smile. The way her feet dragged as they walked down the hall.

She was going to act as if nothing happened because she was too damn stubborn to let weakness show. It was the same way with Dean. After spending years with his brother and weeks with Jo, Sam had developed an instinct for the two. He could tell it was going to be a long ride home.

***

They got back to the motel room just before dawn. Uncomfortable didn't even begin to cover the ride back from the hospital. Sam went ahead and Dean straggled behind, waiting for Jo. He bent down and looked in at her, hunched next to the door.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine," Jo answered, her voice shaky despite the confidence she tried to relay.

Dean paused, hesitating a moment before closing the door and going back to the motel room. He hated leaving her alone. Hated seeing her like that; so broken, so lost, so hurting. She wouldn't let it show, of course. She'd keep it locked inside until she was bursting at the seams.

She was more like him than she was willing to admit. Closed off from everyone and only a few pages available to those closest to her.

He wasn't settled into bed for long before he felt the mattress sink, just a little, under her light frame. Fingers itched to reach out and trace over her white skin, pull her close, protect her. Her pain channeled into his and the knot in his stomach was enough to make him sick.

Hearing the quiet sobs he was sure he was never meant to hear, Dean bridged the gap between them and rested a hand on her hip. A shudder. Hesitation. Tears wiped away. Jo rolled to face him, burying her face in the curve where his shoulder and neck connected.

They stayed that way for the rest of the night, Jo sobbing silently into his shirt and Dean doing the only thing he knew best at a time like this, hugging her close.

***

Staring down at the drain, the memory of blood mixing with water and spiraling into the dark abyss was so vivid she was sure it was happening all over again. But there was no pain, and after blinking back the tears she realized the water was crystal clear. It was all her imagination.

She leaned her forehead against the cold wall, feeling slightly queasy. All she wanted was to let it out, get it out of her system and move on. She was strong, capable. She felt as if she needed to stay that way around the Winchesters, prove she was worth her keep. This wasn't going to hold her back for long, she was going to make sure of it.

Until then all she needed was time to wrap her mind around what happened, what she had lost. How she felt about it.

Those familiar calloused fingers massaged her shoulders, thumbs digging in and kneading out the stress. She was so caught up that she never noticed him come in.

"I was wondering where you went." His voice was gruff and slightly groggy.

"I couldn't sleep," she answered, so quiet she wasn't sure he heard her over the noise of the water.

Dean wrapped his arms around her waist, one palm pressed flat against her stomach. Falling back into his body, a quiver of calm scattered over her. It felt good to know she wouldn't be alone.

"I know you're not really okay."

The words made her want to cry but the tears just weren't coming. She was all cried out.

"Just know that I'm here for you, if you need it," he whispered awkwardly. She nodded in response, knowing she could count on him. As ironic as it might've been, given the circumstances of their relationship (if they could even call it that) and the spontaneity of their meetings between hunts, he was her rock. The one steady thing in her life. She could always count on him at least for a night and know he'd be gone the next morning.

The hollowness in her heart throbbed less and less with each moment they stood there, a tangle of limbs, waves of protection, of comfort, transmitting between them.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Not sure what exactly she meant to say, she bit back her tongue.

"Nevermind."

There were so many things left unsaid. So many things broken up and colliding in her head that it was nearly impossible to put together a single train of thought.

It was a relief to know this was over before it had a chance to begin. She wasn't ready for a child. Not with this lifestyle. There were demons to chase down, graves to desecrate, bones to salt and burn. Lives that needed saving. That was her number one priority at this point in her life. A kid would only throw it askew, jump tracks, make her settle down in a life she dreaded.

Yet she somehow couldn't stop the ache in her stomach. Maybe it was guilt over the relief. Maybe she wasn't relieved at all. Maybe.

She was so damn confused.

"It's silly to miss something you never knew you had," she muttered.

Dean didn't speak, just held her tighter, and that was all she needed him to say.

***

Jo tossed her bag into the trunk and expected Dean to tell her they were headed back to the Roadhouse. Home.

"I hear there's a witch on some farm in Adams, Tennessee," Dean said, coming up behind her with his own belongings.

"When do we check it out?"

"As soon as Sam gets done prettying himself up in front of the mirror," Dean smirked.

Jo laughed. Her insides did a little dance when it hit her that he hadn't protested the we part. She was going, and he wasn't about to stop her. Maybe things were going to be okay afterall.

**
 
 
 
purenightshadepurenightshade on August 25th, 2007 05:47 pm (UTC)
Wow....that was well done.