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rhapsody of armageddon's Significant Otter

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    Sammy - Boy With the Demon Blood
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                                  What the hell was it with him and STDs lately? It made him feel like the Trickster had been watching this whole time, and that was creepy. At least that one was brief. The next one was worse; a sitcom with all the most terrible jokes. Jo and Sawyer were dressed like any pervs fantasy, but the fact that he knew the one who was getting his rocks off on this made Sam's blood boil even more. At least Sawyer was more covered than Jo, for even the sex demon was blushing with what she had covering her. The hoots didn't make her feel any easier.

                                  Cas appeared, and almost helped them escape until the sick b*****d himself strolled in like the hero. When his leer fell on Jo, she shifted behind Dean, fingers clutching his shoulders as she glared right back... behind the safety of her boyfriend. The trickster was mad though, annoyed they were only getting half the message. He wanted to boys to play their role in the real world. "Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael. Your celebrity death match. Play your roles."

                                  "Why the hell would you care about those douche bags?!" Sam snapped, and the glare he got in return was vicious enough to level cities.

                                  "You watch your mouth," he snarled before Sawyer asked her question. Then they were zapped to another twisted reality. This one was a douchey cop show. Sam stared around, and Jo huffed, rubbing over the clothes covering her body in a thank god kind of motion (although she briefly peaked beneath the suit to notice the erotically lacy bra she had on, causing her to scowl again). Sam spotted someone that might actually be the trickster, as evident by the lollipop he put in his mouth. He told the others to follow his lead, and arrogantly put the sunglasses on before he wandered over to the forensics team. Yeah, he'd seen an episode or two; he knew how this went. After several horrible puns that had the idiot laughing, and a very skilled diversion of poking a stick into the dead body, Sam distracted the Trickster while Dean stabbed him with the stick.

                                  The man fell over, and nothing happened until another started laughing. He revealed himself, gloating that they got the wrong guy until Jo snuck up behind him, and mimicked Dean's movements, stabbing him right in the heart. Sure enough, the mirage faded of the man to the monster, and in a flash, everything changed again. Only.... Sam had no idea where he was. He couldn't really... see anything. And he felt weird, even weirder when he could hear his friends talking. And then... they were opening him? What?

                                  "Guys?" he muttered, and his voice echoed. They asked where he was, and then he realized... "Oh crap," was his annoyed response, the car's console lighting up in red flashes along with the sound of his voice. "I don't get it. Every time we try to take him out, it fails!"

                                  "Cas mentioned maybe he wasn't a trickster?" Jo piped in helpfully, and that got Sam thinking.

                                  "He did seem like he knew Cas, didn't he?" Sam said, trying not to be weirded out that he was somehow inside the freaking Impala. Dean also brought up how mad he'd gotten when Sam bad mouthed Michael and Lucifer, and edged on actually knowing what they were dealing with. They set a trap, pulling over on the side of the road so Dean could rummage in the trunk. "Um.... that... that feels uncomfortable," Sam mumbled, and he was certain if cars could blush, the Impala would be tinged pink right now. He didn't want to delve deeper into that thought process while Dean laid the holy oil out and they all stood back. Dean did the calling card, saying they gave up and they wanted out. They'd do it.

rhapsody of armageddon's Significant Otter

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XXXXDon't be aroused by my confession ¯`·.·• ☪ ☪ ☪ •·.·´¯ unless you don't give a good god damn about redemption

XXXXI know Christ is coming, so am I `•·.·´ ☪ ☪ ☪ `·.·•´ and you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye





                                      Sam was made whole again, and walked over to the others with a chagrined expression on his face. They played nice for a whole of two seconds more, then it was time to go, according to So the Trickster was incredibly surprised when he found himself standing in a ring of Holy Fire. Jo didn't try to stop gloating over that fact, watching him trapped and helpless as he put up a bravado. He called them out, but they called his bluff and suddenly, the illusion flickered away. They were all still standing in the warehouse.

                                      "How'd you figure me out?"

                                      "You're not as tricky as you think you are!" Jo snapped, irate. Gabriel leered at her, and she had the decency to shrink back under his livid golden eyes. He'd distorted her before, but now trapped as he was, she could feel it. Her powers were free again, and she could feel all the energy reverberating off of him, barely contained by the thin veil of fire. She realized, terrifyingly, that she knew this source of power. She'd felt it before, and it caused her heart to stutter, her breath to quicken, and her eyes to go wide with fear.

                                      "No one gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family," Sam explained before Dean asked which one they were dealing with.

                                      "Gabriel, okay? Name's Gabriel."

                                      "Like the Archangel?!" Sam gaped, and Jo involuntarily drew closer to Dean. Great. That's just what she wanted to deal with. Another Arch angel. She grabbed onto Dean's T-shirt, shrinking into his side while Gabriel told them he'd had his own witness protection program until the Winchesters came along and mucked it up. He left home because he wanted to fighting to stop; he just couldn't deal with his family tearing each other apart, so he left. And now he wanted Dean and Sam to finally end it. For good. Sam asked for his help again, but Gabriel said there was no way to stop it. Jo watched as Sam tore for any answer he could get, anything that could help them pull the plug on this.

                                      "You do not know my family. What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. You'd think you'd be able to relate." They all tensed up at that one.

                                      "What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked, chagrined. For a moment, Gabriel looked utterly appalled, and rather shocked. Then he sneered, whistling as he shook his head a little.

                                      "You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan," Gabriel mapped it out for them, pointing from one brother to the next. He was irate now, as if he blamed the Winchesters for the state of everything, and maybe deep down he was right. But in reality, it really wasn't their fault, as Gabriel explained when he went on to say, "You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other. Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always."

                                      Jo shifted on her feet, glancing warily to Dean and Sam's pensive faces. It all made so much sense now, and Jo felt slightly sick to her stomach knowing that the boys never had a chance. They'd been set up for some stupid ethereal game. Gabriel had simply tuned them into it, showed them what had always been there. The game was rigged, and they were always meant to be pawns in it.

ScorpionsApprentice's Significant Otter

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#732727
#416D6E
                                    ❝xxPrior to Sam’s return to manhood, Dean made a joke (of course he made a joke) while they were driving along… In Sam. All of them. “Hey, Sammy… How’s it feel to have your girlfriend inside you?” Sawyer lunged forward from her spot in the back seat, fist pounding harshly against Dean’s arm. The instant numbness was not expected and Dean yelped in surprise. Regardless, the plan hatched and everything was back to normal. Except, it wasn’t. It wasn’t normal at all. His fingers wrapped around Jo’s waist when she curled into him and his hardened stare met with Gabriel as he spewed promises of fate and destiny, making sure they knew thoroughly that there was no stopping this. There never was. It was clean and fresh, pressed out in front of them, like Sunday linens. The evidence was plastered every which way, but how were they supposed to sit back and simply accept the truths being snarled by the vicious archangel?

                                    “Yeah, well, ‘least we’re not going up in flames,” Dean stated, waving a hand abrasively as he rotated away from Gabriel. The words still flickered through his mind as he led Jo back outside and tried to stomach their newfound information. He hated these ******** revelations, prone to them or not. Dean was tired of “oh, hey, guess what, you’re ********. Destiny says so.” Destiny was an evil skank b***h. He hated her and Fate and their combined little children of Déjà and Vu. Amazingly, he was in a less poor mood than anticipated when they arrived back at their housing, but that was greatly in thanks to the call of alcohol. It was there, close in his grasp, and all he had to do was reach out and take it.

                                    Jo could not complain, in fact, if she didn’t join in the moping festivities, Dean would be shocked. He slammed the Impala’s door and dug for his key. They weren’t stupidly going to stay here, they would hit the next town where Gabriel couldn’t locate them thanks to the spiffy engravings in their ribcages. Dean didn’t bother trying to lighten the atmosphere, it was abysmal and intending to stay that way. Instead, he shouldered his belongings and helped Jo with hers, guiding them all to the car before driving three towns away with only his classic rock filling the silent gap. Abruptly, he pulled over outside of a run down bar and nodded his head. “We need drinks,” was all the explanation his group earned as he pulled out of the vehicle and marched the distance to the bar’s entry. Holding it for Jo, and Jo alone, he stepped inside and guided her by way of a hand on her hip over to the table of his choosing.

                                    Packed, the place was not. A few patrons roamed, casual conversation between them. Others played pool, and a duo tossed darts at a board just a few feet away from them. All in all, it was nothing special. The music was lowbrow country, suiting the place entirely with its hardy language and tones. Dean ordered for each of them, knowing what they would order before bothering to ask at this point. Two beers for him and Sam (to start, anyway), two fingers of Fireball whiskey – neat – for Jo, a Long Island for Sawyer.

                                    The brunette glanced at Dean, nearly astounded by his ability. He glanced back, one simple shrug of a single shoulder being his only offering to the knowledge he retained. “Anybody want to talk about that?” he asked, obviously not the talking about the drinks he’d just ordered. “Or can we just move on and accept that it’s ******** bullshit?”

                                    “Is it?” Sawyer asked, surprisingly. She was optimistic so often, but suddenly she was on the “destiny could win” boat? What the hell had changed?

                                    Dean’s gaze narrowed as he focused on her momentarily, brows creasing deeper together before he affirmed, “Yeah, it’s friggin’ bullshit. You think every damn thing in our lives can be mapped out for us?” Team Free Will was still going strong, he wasn’t letting that fade away just yet. He glanced at Jo, questioningly. He didn’t want to ask what had changed Sawyer’s opinion so quickly, but she could. She could do it without looking like an idiot, she was the girl’s best friend, after all. His lips brushed the side of Jo’s head affectionately, but that was only to offer him leeway to whisper, “We gotta get you one of those bikinis.” He was suddenly… Looking forward to something. Summer. Vehemently.

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#416D6E
#732727
                          ❧xxNegativity hardly suited Sawyer, nor did animosity. Still, ever since Patrick, she’d felt both stewing harshly in the pit of her stomach. Negativity toward the possibility of running your own fate, something about the bemused look in Patrick’s eye sponsored that one. Animosity against witches. In general. Lauren, Patrick, all of them. She hated them, and she hated that one had cursed her, too. She didn’t know what it meant, or what was intended to come of it, but it wasn’t a good thing. Dean hauled them all to a bar, claiming a need for drinks. Sawyer wasn’t about to disagree, she was looking forward to downing a bottle. Two, maybe. She had kept herself fairly under wraps as far as negative influences, until the moment Dean asked about ‘moving on’. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut, and two words slid out before she had a second to even think.

                          She pulled her sweater, a new article of clothing after the lack of it all day, closer around her shoulders and let one hand reach back to massage idly at the terse muscles in her neck. The waitress returned with drinks and Sawyer smothered her lips with a smile for the woman in thanks before sipping. Sipping turned to guzzling, and by the time she set the drink down, it was half empty. She cleared her throat, rolling her head around in a loose circle. Her eyes caught Dean’s momentarily concerned stare, but hers only replied with a placid smile. Prim, proper, perfect. Habits.

                          Quietly, she returned to her drink and sipped the rest of it back down the straw, stretching her hand up to beckon the waitress for another. The waitress came, took her glass and returned a few minutes later with a new drink. Sawyer repeated the process of silence smothered in alcohol. She wanted another, and with a sigh, she decided to skip the sugary drink part altogether. Catching the waitress as she passed, Sawyer smiled. “Two shots… Your choice,” she smiled. The woman lifted her brows but nodded and took off to get Sawyer her drinks. ******** it, she was drinking to get drunk all of a sudden.

                          The waitress returned, only… Not. Sawyer’s brows knitted as she looked up at the much darker silhouette clouding their view. Dean didn’t seem to appreciate the newcomer’s appearance, his gaze lingering on the man for several long seconds, “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for, pal,” he stated, huffily. Then, all of a sudden, it appeared a light bulb clicked in his head and he refocused, leaning forward with one arm still securely wrapped around Jo. Dean, as a member of the hunting community since birth, knew a lot of them. As it appeared, he recognized this man, and Sawyer had seen him in photos. She leaned back, folding her arms as she glared up at the man with all her furious animosity allowed an outlet.

                          “Jo Harvelle,” he said, fondly. “Been a long time.” He forgot to mention that was his fault. Surely Jo wouldn’t, right?

                          Son of a b***h. Sawyer felt her skin prickling, her eyes switching from Rick to Jo and back. She didn’t like this, not a single bit. It twisted her stomach and made her Spidey Senses go absolutely nuts. Obviously that had a great deal to do with the fact that he was a lowlife, abandoning, douchebag and she was ridiculously protective of Jo. Beside the point, she was not happy with this turn of events, and the fact shone clearly on her expression now that she’d let her smile falter. There was no point in smiling at a jackwad of an ex-boyfriend like him. Best friends weren’t supposed to be friendly with their friend’s exes. Not even during a first introduction.

rhapsody of armageddon's Significant Otter

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    Sammy - Boy With the Demon Blood
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                                  Sam didn't protest the drinks; he knew they all needed them, including himself. They'd just gone up against a heavy hitter, and while they physically made out of it unscathed, their minds weren't so lucky. He caught the door behind Dean as he strolled in with his girlfriend, and held it open for his own. Not even Sam wanted to talk about what had occurred in that warehouse, and he said as much by shaking his head while his fingers wrapped around his beer. He was also caught off guard by Sawyer's retort, and looked at her with a considerably wounded expression. Had she given up on him so quickly? He didn't know what was stewing in her head while she chugged down half her drink; they hadn't had a chance to talk about it. Forlorn, he turned his head away from her and took a sip of his beer, trying not to notice how snuggled up Jo and Dean were. When the Hell had they flipped?

                                  Jo huffed at Dean's salacious comment, trying and failing not to smile in spite of herself. She shook her head at his antics, but didn't fight off sinking into his side. They sat in silence for awhile, everyone simply mulling over their own drinks while Dean and Jo were oblivious to how lovey dovey they seemed. Idiots. Sam couldn't believe they still had yet to say they loved each other, and he watched them curiously while he sipped on his beer. Jo had ordered two more shots along with Sawyer's drink orders before Sam even finished his first beer, but he got himself a second one all the same to join in on the festivities. They'd started to pick up on short conversations, and while they weren't forced, they weren't really enthusiastic either. No one seemed to mind though; they were all pulling themselves back to being okay again.

                                  It wasn't until a larger shadow loomed over them that they all realized they simply weren't meant to be okay that night. Sam was confused, looking up at the stranger who addressed Jo, and Jo alone blankly. He had no idea who this guy was; Sam knew a lot of people in the hunting community, but not as many as his brother did. This guy gave him a vague sense of familiarity, but he couldn't place a name or even the instance he'd seen the guy before. He didn't fail to notice however, how Dean's arm wound tighter around Jo, or how Jo's face fell slack as she gaped up at the man smiling down at her. She was literally stunned, wide chocolate eyes and a hanging mouth faced with the nameless man. She collected herself after a moment, mouth snapping shut as she blinked.

                                  "Wow.... so you are alive," Jo said sardonically, fingers curling around her shot glass and knocking it back rapidly. The guy had the decency to look sheepish for a moment, taking his ball cap off and rubbing the scruff of his messy black locks in abashment. Sam's curiosity was peaking, eyes flickering from one person to the next. They all seemed to know something he didn't.

                                  "I know, I know. Wasn't the kindest way I left ya, but you were so young and I wasn't... well, you know how it is," Rick tried in an apologetic tone. Jo snorted.

                                  "Do I?"

                                  "Look at you though. You certainly... grew up," Rick murmured, her voice conflicted between appraising and... something else. Something not even Jo could really pinpoint, but she felt like it was something akin to suspicion. That wasn't something she could understand, and she almost believed it was her own suspicion. Setting her glass down, she twisted in her seat and pulled her legs up. They fluidly coiled over Dean, and she pulled herself up to sit across his lap, arms winding around his neck.

                                  "Yeah, I did," Jo said icily. Rick watched Dean now, taking note of how the hunter tightened his grip on his ex, the scowl on his face. He was genuinely protective of her, borderline possessive. A curious smile spread over Rick's lips as he set his cap back on his head and held his arms up.

                                  "Relax. I didn't mean nothin' by it, Joey."

                                  "Don't call me that," Jo snapped, glowering up at the man, whom had the common sense to take a small step back. "Like you said, I'm not a kid anymore."

                                  "I'm sorry, but who are you?" Sam finally interjected, brows raised as he looked up at the man inquiringly. As if he'd finally just noticed them, Rick's gaze swiveled down to the younger Winchester. Something flickered through his eyes, but he smiled easily and held a hand out for Sam to shake, which having better manners than everyone else, took it companionably.

                                  "Rick Bannerman," he said amicably, "Jo and I.... go way back. Back when she was just a cute little country girl from Nebraska."

                                  "We go way back as in we dated, and then you ditched. So why don't you do what you're good at in this scenario," Jo sneered, and Rick frowned at her before releasing Sam's hand and stepping back again to regard Sawyer. His brows furrowed and he tilted his head, debating asking what her name was since he'd never seen her before. The look he got told him to do otherwise though, and he briefly glanced at the hand Sam had around Sawyer's shoulders.

                                  "What is this, like a double dating hunting party?" he quipped.

                                  "Yup. And the party's all full, so... byeeeee," Jo sang, before she widened her eyes and shook her head. She grabbed for Dean's beer and chugged down a few sips while Rick stiffened. He should have expected the hostility, but judging by Jo's venom, he wasn't going to be able to get her alone to talk. Not only that, but the way all three other hunters were leering at him now... they likely wouldn't let her anyway. He was astounded by their loyalty to her, and he knew when to back down from a loosing battle. Bereft slightly, he stepped back from the table.

                                  "Alright, alright. I get it. You be careful now ya'll. Never know what's lurking around dark corners these days. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was end days," Rick bid them adieu, tipping his hat before he nodded his head toward the back. Two men got up from their stools and approached him, the three walking out in a pack. Sam watched them go, curiosity and an odd sense of foreboding still clinging to his heart, before he turned around to stare blankly at the others.

                                  "Is it just me, or was that weird?"

rhapsody of armageddon's Significant Otter

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XXXXDon't be aroused by my confession ¯`·.·• ☪ ☪ ☪ •·.·´¯ unless you don't give a good god damn about redemption

XXXXI know Christ is coming, so am I `•·.·´ ☪ ☪ ☪ `·.·•´ and you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye





                                      It was early June, and the summer was coming early. Already it was warm enough to say goodbye to their jackets until fall came again, save for the rare night it dropped a little cooler. Still, Jo didn't need her leather anymore, a light hoodie doing enough to shield her after the sun set. It had been days since they'd run into Rick, and still, she was unnerved. She felt exposed and angry. Seeing him had dug up issues she didn't even know she had still, old wounds that were scraped open by his presence. Oddly enough, she felt how she had walking out of the rest stop gas station. Watched, vulnerable. After 6 years, why the ******** had he popped up out of the blue? There was something off about it, something she couldn't place and couldn't figure out. It drove her crazy, made her irritable for days, but it was slowly starting to fade again. It didn't matter.

                                      They'd gone home for a few days, visited their folks to say hello and spend the weekend. They all needed it after what Gabriel dragged them through. Even after, Jo was reluctant to go back into a case. She felt like they needed a break, and with the weather getting warmer? It seemed like an excellent idea. She convinced them to go out, just for one night. One night of no bullshit. All they had to do was have drinks and have a good time. Nothing extravagant. With a little bit of conceding, they relented, and Jo squealed with a bit of delight before she dragged Sawyer off to get ready. Jo wasn't usually one to dress up at will, but... well, she wanted to watch Dean's eyes ogle her. It was something she'd grown rather fond of, and she didn't have excuses to make it happen as often anymore.

                                      "Do you like it?" she asked Sawyer, holding up the sleek sweater-like slip of a strapless dress she'd bought. It was white, hugged her curves like a glove, and despite the almost scandalous nature of it, it gave her an air of innocence with the girly little floral pattern than ran along the horizontal lines of the cotton. She bit the corner of her lip as she waited for Sawyer to yay or nay it, and was pleased when she was given the go ahead. She fluffed her hair out, and even applied a little makeup to highlight her features before she tied the whole thing together with the silver heels she wore with her gown.

                                      By the time the girls rejoined the boys all dolled up, both Winchesters were gaping at their woman. Jo smirked at Dean and winked before they walked their way to a nearby dive bar. Yeah, Jo had gotten dressed up to go to one of their usual locations (usual as in style, not particular joint), but it didn't matter. She felt sexy, and a little dangerous, and was a little giddy with the prospect that they were going to have fun for a change. No burdens, no obligations. Just drinking and friends and laughter. Yes. The night started with shots, and even Sam partook in the drinking, wincing horribly against the liquor he wasn't used to. They all laughed at his sour puss, and even he laughed as he bit into a lime. Yes, they were drinking tequila upon Jo's insistence.

                                      Quarters somehow started, the fully grown adults making their drinking endeavors a game that all were considerably skilled in. Shot after shot was knocked back, but no one was sloppily wasted either. There was actual pacing involved, water and appetizers mixed in to keep them all at a happy buzz. Jo didn't even know what they were laughing at anymore, but even Sam was a little red-faced with the chuckles he was trying to hide by dropping his forehead to his forearms. It was about this time that Jo noticed something that had her blood boiling for something different. Looking up, she caught sight of the culprit and a wry smile graced her lips. She could feel it's bloodlust growing stronger, and now that she was honed in on it, she knew there was a monster in their midst. Her eyes turned cat-like for a moment, a slightly more sober smile gracing her lips as she eyed him.

                                      She kept eye contact until he noticed her, and then she tilted her head a little to feign interest. He quirked a brow at her, and her smirk easily turned a little slyer in nature. His own smirk quirked in response, a subtle exchange of body language sealing the deal. He thought he had an easy meal ticket in the bag, and Jo knew she did. She glanced over at Dean, and then winked. "I have dinner to catch, be right back," she purred in his ear, placing a gentle kiss against his lobe to assure him she'd be okay. The fact that she'd said dinner instead of a snack was code enough to indicate there was a monster she was about to drain, and one vampire couldn't take her. He looked like he wanted to follow, but Jo placed her hand over his to keep him seated. Her eyes said what she needed him to understand. I'll be okay, and if I'm not back in a few minutes, you can come out and find me.

                                      Smirking her friend's way, she slid up from her seat and let her gaze track back to the vampire. Her hips swayed purposefully, drawing predatory eyes down her figure as she walked for the door. It was a warm night, leaving the need for a jacket obsolete. She strolled out in front of the building, and walked toward the side. One glance was thrown over her shoulder to see the vampire walking out behind her, and she smirked a little as she continued to walk down the sidewalk, toward the small alleyway that ran between this street and the next. She felt the vampire's fingers curl around her waist, and in an unanticipated motion, she whipped around, throwing off his balance and slamming him into a wall. He was obviously surprised by his expression, fangs poking out and horror widening his eyes even more when Jo's began to glow an unearthly green. She smiled at him, drawing close before she pulled his breath into her lungs. In desperation, his hands came up, but he was quickly put under her spell, one hand curling limply around the necklace that always sat upon her neck, the other lightly holding her arm. He was going to die, and he'd be happy to go with how elated he felt by having his soul sucked down dry.

                                      Jo didn't get to finish though... in fact, she barely got to feed before something thick and unbreathable was covering her mouth. It smelled pungent too, and Jo freaked out a little when she failed to pull a breath in either her mouth or nose. A muffled scream left her, her body wrenching against the binding arm that had wrapped around the entirety of her torso, pinning her effectively against what she now registered to be a body. She was yanked backward, the vampire heaving in a breath as he blinked, coming to. He still had a hold of her necklace though, which snapped with a heartbreaking ping, even through her screaming and thrashing. She kicked out, but there were more hands, grabbing onto her legs and immobilizing her in the air. And god, she couldn't breathe. Her healing ability had helped to keep it at bay, but the chloroform was seeping into her brain. Everything grew foggy, her limbs heavy, and she couldn't struggle anymore. Her eyes slipped closed, body completely limp, and the cloth finally left her mouth as the two men adjusted their hold on her to carry her more efficiently through the alleyway to the street it connected to behind the bar.

                                      "Thanks," the vampire heaved naively, before Rick himself brought his machete up and chopped straight through the bloodsucker's neck until his blade hit the wall. Wide eyes hollowed out as blood seeped over pale flesh and steel. Rick glanced at him apathetically before he pulled his blade out and let the body tumble to the ground. The two left of his men who were otherwise unoccupied went to pick up the corpse and get rid of it, but Rick quickly barked at them.

                                      "No! We don't have the time. Just leave it and get back to the truck," Rick snapped, urging them all forward. They ran after the others, all climbing into a blue pickup truck before they sped off, Jo's unconscious form in the flatbed with the two men who'd grabbed her. The beheaded vampire was left behind, blood pooling into the streets, and Jo's necklace still cupped in his limp hand.

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#732727
#416D6E
                                    ❝xxIt wasn’t the drinks they drank, the jokes they chimed or the words spoken that would run through Sawyer’s head for days to come. It was the questioning look in Jo’s eyes as she requested an opinion on her dress while Sawyer was curling the last of her lengthy locks. That moment, such a normal fraction in time, would reverberate through her skull. Dean would think about those hesitant moments where his intuition screamed to follow, but her eyes held such promise. I’ll be okay, they swore. For a few minutes, he believed it. A few minutes turned to nearly forty five in their tipsy time lapse, and Dean was the first to notice. Sawyer looked at him, concern etching her brow closer together. She lifted, smoothing a hand over the skirt of her simple, black sleeveless dress made of clinging material as she pulled to her feet. Leaning to Sam, she pressed a kiss to his temple and followed Dean out, her instincts telling her the same as Dean’s.

                                    Something was wrong, Jo wouldn’t just take off like this. They split up, Sawyer taking one direction and Dean the other. It was the brunette who found the body. She shouted conspicuously and Dean felt his heart sink so deep into his chest he thought he would lose it for an eternity. He ran, full tilt, until the corpse lay decapitated before him. For a second, he was grateful. It wasn’t Jo, just some average-ordinary vamp that wasn’t going to give them a whole hell of a lot in the way of info. Still, his brow narrowed as he leaned down to examine the corpse. “It’s the blood sucker from the bar,” he stated, and Sawyer nodded, her hand lifting instinctively to her lips as she choked down fear.

                                    “Dean,” she whispered, directing his attention to the splayed, white palm. Dean lifted from his crouch, coming to a standstill next to Sawyer. Every fear that had seeped away came back in a blur and he dropped down, picking the chain from between the vampire’s blood stained fingers. His thumb smoothed across the tiny pendant and he glanced back up at Sawyer. She stared down at him, turning and running back to the bar in her heels. Sliding inside, she grabbed their belongings and gripped Sam’s forearm, turning and running back out without a word to explain what was happening. Panicked, she grabbed her phone from her purse and hesitated. Jo’s phone was in her bag. Here. She stared at it, the anxiety building as her head flicked left and right, searching for the blonde.

                                    Dean directed them to the Impala without as much as a sentence. Pulling the car around to where the vampire’s body had been abandoned, he flung the trunk wide and dug deep beneath their bags to tear a tarp from beneath them all, winding the bloody mess up inside of it and throwing it into the back.

                                    Without a trace. Dean had run into this before, having to start from the bottom up. The problem with it was the fact that they literally had no direction, nothing but the body in the back and the broken necklace tucked in Dean’s breast pocket. They didn’t have any inkling as to a direction, not a moment’s notice. Sawyer stopped Dean abruptly, her finger pointing toward the place obviously fresh treads had peeled away from the tarmac. They jumped into the car, scavenging streets for hours. Sawyer sat forefront with Dean for perhaps the first time ever, her gaze flicking down one road and the next, her body poised and prepared to leap out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. They all felt it, pressing, digging. After hours of searching fruitlessly, Dean drove them to a stop beneath a streetlight on the edge of town. Sawyer was lookout, Sam and Dean were the ones to examine and dispose of the desecrated corpse.

                                    “You seein’ what I’m seein’?” Dean asked, his stoic gaze focused on the clean line through the vampire’s throat. “Jo’s strong, but she can’t do this kind of clean cut.” Not that it would make sense as to why she had a massive blade in the first place. If anything, she’d have sneaked the blade Dean had given her beneath her skirt and that seemed unlikely. There was no way this was Jo, and most innocent passersby didn’t haul around massive blades with them. The body was discarded down the ravine, let some coroner explain that one to his boss. They gathered everything useable from it before reconvening inside the Impala. Sawyer’s ashen face mirrored Dean’s, and she was eager to learn what information he’d compiled. He didn’t have much. There was the hope, slim but there, that Jo would be back at the motel with some story of grandure awaiting them. Anything. Even if she’d clawed her way back on her hands and knees, he would take anything.

                                    She wasn’t there.

                                    Dean listened to Sawyer break in the bathroom as she shed her dress, he choked on guilt and horror until he couldn’t take being in the same peremeter as her anymore. Abruptly, he lifted and grabbed his keys. He was going back out to look. Sitting here, doing nothing, listening to Sawyer sob. It wasn’t going to help him any more than it was going to help Jo. At least on the streets, there might be a clue. Something. Anything.

                                    The clean line was still running through his mind, the thought that this could have been…

                                    His hand hovered on the handle to the Impala, darkened eyes widening as his chest hauled angry breaths. It could’ve been a hunter. No, not could, had to have been. Dean was sure of it, and there was only one that they’d had a run-in with lately who maybe, just maybe, Jo wouldn’t expect. Why her, though? Had she gone willingly with them? Was she hurt and in the hospital? That didn’t make sense, unless she was trying to shield her capabilities from someone. Dean didn’t know which way to go or where to start, not this time. If they were looking at hunters, there was any number of directions they could have gone.

                                    Suddenly, the most horrific thought of all crossed Dean’s mind. It wouldn’t go away, it couldn’t go away. It riled him until his fist curled and slammed against the hood of the Impala, his heart heavy with all the worrisome weight riding inside of it. Call it intuition, call it whatever, but Dean knew he was right. In his heart of hearts, there was no possible way he could have been wrong. Jo would have called if there was any humanly possible way she could, she would have contacted them and told them she was alright. It didn’t even cross Dean’s mind that she would have taken off, like before. She wasn’t that person anymore, she didn’t fear them. Had no reason to fear them. The fact that Sawyer was in the dark, too, meant he was right. He hated himself for being right in this horrifying situation. He’d been around hunters long before, and any that came across an anomaly like Jo, that somehow recognized her for what she was…. They wouldn’t leave it be. Dean wouldn’t have left it be. These hunters had been on the hunt. For their monster of monsters.

ScorpionsApprentice's Significant Otter

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#416D6E
#732727
                          ❧xxDay Two

                          Belongings were thrust into a bag, which was quickly shouldered. Hazel eyes shifted across the room to meet Dean’s. “I’ll call if I find anything,” she promised, pausing next to Sam with a heavy heart. The decision for her to part from the brothers for the time being had been a swift one. She hadn’t had much time to think about it, nor was she going to. Dean had given her a list of places she could go to, looking for anybody who may have known Rick, who had become their decided target. He was the last hunter to have seen Jo, and Sam's feeling of weird combined with Sawyer and Dean's admitted animosity toward the man made him the perfect choice. It helped that none of Dean's phone contacts would ******** say where he was, excluding Bobby with good reason. Jo was missing, Ellen was being kept out of it for the time being. Sawyer was taking the west, Dean and Sam were taking East. She was flying out that afternoon. Her fingers wrapped around Sam’s hand, eyes lifting to meet his as she pulled his knuckles up and kissed them. Tears glistened in the brunette’s eyes, just as they had nearly all day every day. That was part of the decision. Dean needed to focus, Sawyer needed to not feel like a tag along so she could focus, too. Her lips pressed against Sam’s palm, and finally she pulled up to kiss him. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips. Out of all of them, she was the safest roaming the countryside. Nobody in the hunting community knew her, she was barely a face in the crowd.

                          Pulling away from him with one last squeeze, she slid out the door and paused in the doorway. “I’ll call you when I land,” she promised Sam, nodding her head briefly. Nothing else had been located in that ******** town, and with two days of emptiness, the bastards who had taken her best friend could have gone damn near anywhere. She glanced at Dean, their shared concern flashing from one to the other before she closed the door behind her. The emotional side was torturing Dean, it was better that she get away. So she did. A taxi and an airplane later, she was on the west coast with her single bag and list of hideouts.

                          Back East, Dean was preparing his brother to head out. There was somber recognition shared between them, like this was just another case. Neither spoke of how it wasn’t, neither mentioned how empty the car felt without both women resting in one place or another. Dean still had Jo’s necklace in his pocket, never once stopping to think about taking it out or abandoning it. They spent the remainder of the day scavenging locations, talking to hunters that they knew in each one. Traveling so much meant they would be sleeping in the Impala, it was easier that way. Dean could hardly rest, Sam didn’t care. Sawyer called, as promised, to confirm she was safe in LA and heading out that evening for her first checkpoint.

                          Day Three

                          The full moon cast eerie light down on their tepid excuse for a campsite. Dean’s eyes didn’t flick from the project at hand, the only thing he could do at five o’clock in the morning when sleep wouldn’t come to him. It was either this or drinking, but if there was the chance that Sawyer could call… Dean wasn’t even willing to take that leap of faith. He fumbled with metal, clicking and pinching with a small set of pliers and links he’d commandeered. It was almost done. Across the country, a brunette sat at a table with two men much larger than her, both eyeing the slender curve of her waist beneath her form fitting tank top and the ample perk of her breasts. Neither were whom she wanted to be speaking with, but they were a step closer. They knew the name, that was what she needed.

                          Day Five

                          Restless didn’t begin to describe Dean Winchester’s state of mind. With each person they met, he was getting more and more inclined to throw them against a wall and pummel them for information. One, he nearly had. If it weren’t for Sam, he would have thrust the man back in a heartbeat and slammed his face into the cocky pulp it so righteously deserved to be. Jo’s necklace now clung where his used to, a constant reminder of what he had to lose in the event that she didn’t return. Everything, anything, Dean could lose it all. It was a phone call that tore him from his near-rampage through the hunter’s den, one from Sawyer, directed to him. Most of her calls had been for Sam. In the soggy streets of St. Louis, he got the first good news he’d had in days, and it made his blood boil.

                          “Where are you?” Sawyer asked, rapidly.

                          “St. Louis,” was Dean’s gruff reply. “You found something?” It wasn’t like him to be hopeful, but Sawyer sounded out of breath. He heard her car door slam and an engine revved to life in the background.

                          “Meet me in Albuquerque.”

                          Day Six

                          Speed had never been a problem for Dean. He reached Albuquerque at a pace that would have flustered a cheetah, his focus sharp and attentive. Sawyer had given them a motel name and room, and Dean pulled to a stop outside of it. Marching up, he knocked on the door and the brunette took a moment to answer, an ominous click sounding from inside the room. Immediately, he looked up to Sam with widened, concerned eyes before slamming his fist to the door. “Rhodes!” barked Dean, moving in for another sequence of fist hammerings when the door swung wide and the brunette stood before them in a pair of shorts and a tank top, her hair twisted into a ponytail and the piece de résistance draped by her side: a 9mm handgun. She eyed them both warily, pulling aside to allow them in as she set the gun on the bedside table and thoroughly locked the door.

                          “Jesus, Rhodes, what the hell?” Dean snapped, “You suddenly running from the Mafia?” Sawyer noticed the humorless tone in his voice, she wasn’t much in the mood for jokes, either. She examined him and shook her head.

                          “They’re not as stupid as I thought,” she stated, turning around to gather a computer that was sitting on her bed. She’d gotten a laptop. Clever girl. Dean knit his brow as his eyes scaled the abrasions lingering on her skin. Bruises, and a long cut draping down to hide beneath her tank top. He glanced at Sam, questioning visually whether or not she’d mentioned any of that part to her boyfriend. Sawyer looked back at Dean, beckoning him and Sam forward with her hand. Immediately upon Sam’s perching on the bed, she curled partially back into him, groaning subtly from the ache in her bones. There were about forty pages open on her web searches, but the one she was showing had to do with the location of some kind of outbuilding in the middle of nowhere.

                          Literally, the middle of nowhere.

                          “You think that’s where she is?” Dean asked, nearly lurching upward to go and storm the castle right that second.

                          “That’s one of three places I think she is,” Sawyer responded, tipping her head back to look at Sam before turning to examine Dean once more. “I wasn’t able to get anything better than this. I tried, I did. But goony one was eavesdropping on me when I called you one night,” she said, pressing her head back against Sam’s chest. “They figured out pretty quick that I wasn’t just a hunter buddy trying to find Rick.”

                          Dean paused, pulling back and regarding Sawyer. “The hell were you thinking?” he accused. “You thought you were talking to one of his goons and you still friggin’ went in for the kill on that one?”

                          “Half the ******** people I’ve been talking to know him, Dean! He’s not exactly a nobody in the community! He’s about four steps down from you two on the fame tiers, and with good ******** reason!”

                          Dean backed off, but only because the bickering wasn’t getting him any closer to Jo. “So what makes you think this place?” Sawyer didn’t want to say. She closed her mouth and looked at Dean sidelong. “Rhodes! Come on! You’ve gotta be ******** kidding me, this is complete bullshit, that’s the kind of reason you need a ******** babysitter half the time—”

                          “I wasn’t stupid about it. I walked in, saw it’s guarded. It’s guarded. It’s one of five possibilities, but seriously? I’ve never seen a place so hunkered down before, they’re waiting for something, Dean.”

                          Dean glanced at the clock, a stammering breath running through his lips. “Anybody see you?” he asked, gruffly.

                          “No. It was last night when I called you, I was heading back here.”

                          Dean stifled a sigh, but gradually nodded his head. “Come on,” he urged Sam, lifting from his spot. Sawyer pulled to her feet, but Dean was quick to try and back her down. His lips had parted to say it when she lunged for him, fingers curling around his jacket in a vicious, animalistic stance.

                          “So help me god if you tell me to stay here I will stab you,” she snarled up at him. “You’re not the only one who loves her, so grow up and back the ******** off.”

                          The abrasive tone in her voice backed him down, but only because he heard something unexpected shrouded behind it. Sawyer hadn’t left because Dean couldn’t handle it. She’d left because she could. She knew she was good at this part, at tracking people down. She knew that her assets were useful, that she was outgoing, sweet and had a tongue spun of gold. Somewhere along the line, innocent little Sawyer Rhodes had become a hunter and her best friend was in trouble. Dean watched the passion blaze in her eyes as she came to the conclusion he wasn’t her enemy. She stepped back, hands lowering as she spun around and collected her belongings. Every movement was clipped, terse and pointed, he felt like he was watching himself through a gender-bending mirror. She spent time around him, Sam and Jo. Her actions were similar to theirs when there was something pressing at hand.

                          Nothing in the world was more pressing than this very moment. Dean guided them out the door and into the Impala, preparing to lay siege to the sons of bitches that had taken his girlfriend away from him.

rhapsody of armageddon's Significant Otter

Desirable Lunatic

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XXXXDon't be aroused by my confession ¯`·.·• ☪ ☪ ☪ •·.·´¯ unless you don't give a good god damn about redemption

XXXXI know Christ is coming, so am I `•·.·´ ☪ ☪ ☪ `·.·•´ and you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye





                                      Jo's head was aching. A minor hangover combined with the metallic taste in her mouth... she felt like she'd had a roll of quarters shoved down her throat. Chloroform could do that to someone. That wasn't the sensation that woke her though. Nor was the morning light streaming in through a broken window what woke her. She only became aware of the pain splitting her skull and the fact that it was morning after. No, the thing that woke her was her thigh... something was gripping the underside of her thigh. Brows furrowing in confusion, she forced her eyes open and glanced over, spotting the redhead she'd seen in River Pass crouched beside her, one of his grimy hands working its way up her leg to where the hem of her dress laid. Immediately alert, Jo pulled her other leg up, grateful that her heels were still on, and slammed the ball of her foot right into the b*****d's face.

                                      A howl followed the loud crunch that split through the silence. Blood instantly started spurting from Miles' nose, and he fell back onto his a**, cupping his face with one hand. The other that had slid over her leg left grease stains in their wake, marking her flesh with his disgusting touch. Another man stood beside her, and upon her movement he stepped forward, bringing the butt of his rifle up before he slammed it into the side of her face. Yeah, her head ******** hurt. There were two kinds of hits people used guns for; ones to stun, and ones to kill - this one was somewhere in between. Her head cracked to the side with the hit, eyes wrenching closed as the pain split through her face. She could feel it, beneath the surface, her cheekbone cracking under the skin down the side of her jaw, and across into the tender spot between her nose and eye socket. Jo groaned, wincing as the pain throbbed up with swelling.

                                      "I told you not to touch her," Rick chided unsympathetically, though he wasn't facing the group. When Jo was finally was able to see through the blurriness in her eyes, she blinked up at his back (her one eye starting to have trouble working as the area continued to swell, and blood trickled down from the cut now on the crown of her cheek). Rick was at a work station, though Jo didn't know what the hell he was doing at the rickety table he was standing in front of. She began to notice little things, like how the wood beneath her was grayed with age, and parts were littered with old paper. They were obviously squatting, likely in an old farmhouse or something...

                                      She opened her mouth to speak, but instead she had the uncomfortable sensation of something tugging at her lips. It was sticky, and a muffled moan left her when it started to hurt, forcing her to stop the movement. Tears were still squeezing out of her eyes from the lingering pain of her broken cheek bone, but she was now certain she had duct tape plastered over her mouth. When she tried to move, she became aware of why her arms felt so numb, and twisted her head to drunkly look at her wrist. Thick rope was secured around her wrist tight enough to dig into her flesh if she moved too much, and the knotting was professional. The other wrist was bound the same way, the same height as the other, and spread far enough away that they wouldn't be much use unless she could wriggle free, which had been made impossible. It looked like she was tied to a metal headboard for a bed, though she was seated on the dusty floor.

                                      Footsteps reverberated, bringing her attention back to Rick, whom finally turned around to face her. There was a sharpened hunting knife in his hand, though he held it at his side unthreateningly at first. "Hey, Joey," he said smoothly, offering a small smile as if he didn't have her tied up on the floor in front of him. He walked over to her, kneeling a little ways out of her reach and glanced at the ropes she was warily glancing toward. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but... I've found it's much harder for someone to pull the slip over you when they're tied with their hands too far apart to work together.

                                      He smiled at her then, as if he were damn proud of himself. Her glare would have been more terrifying if it weren't glistening with tears, but Jo thought she did a pretty good job of wishing him death through the look all the same. He moved forward then, too quickly for her aching body and stiff limbs to really keep up with, and pressed his knee over both her thighs, effectively pinning her and allowing him free reign to hove over her. His eyes flickered over her form appraisingly while he said, "You really did grow into quite a woman, Jo. If I had known..." he stopped himself, pausing as he let out a breath. For a moment, he looked conflicted, like he was struggling with something. He felt as troubled too, though Jo didn't feel much sympathy for him. He glared into her eyes then, his cap gone, allowing his eyes to be fully visible and the crossed scar that rested on his forehead to be visible. He hadn't had that when she'd dated him... not that she cared now.

                                      "See, thing I can't wrap my head around..." he went on, finally bringing his blade up to jiggle cavalierly in his hand before he pointed it at her accusingly. "How'd a gal like you end up a soul-sucking whore? It ain't in your blood. I know... I would have known then. See, I'm intimate with your kind. My dad taught me all about your breed, and I know your mom ain't one. Last I checked, succubi don't just pop up after puberty. So what the hell are you?" Rick grunted, obviously frustrated by the turn of events. Jo's nostrils were flaring now, panic setting in as tears freely flowed from the stress of the situation. Rick rested the tip of the blade against her lips, and even through the thick material of the tape, she could feel how sharp it was. A small bit of pressure from his wrist, and he could split her lips open in a way they didn't go.

                                      "I'd love to ask... but I don't trust that mouth of yours," he muttered darkly, the violent anger of a hunter surfacing as he threateningly poked the tip of the knife to her lips. "I know what it's capable of," he snarled, shoving off her and standing up. Jo cried out a little when it put unnecessary pressure on her legs, and that in turn hurt her cheek. "Now... we have important plans to discuss. The big boys have to talk... put her under," Rick snapped, nodding at one of his comrades who immediately stepped forward. Jo jolted slightly, but it was easy enough for him to lean over her and shove a needle into her vein. The injection took over quickly, and Jo found herself submerged in the dark just a few moments later.

                                      ~*~


                                      Jo felt woozy, like she was bobbing in rather uneven waters. It caused her to stir, and she glanced up to see someone carrying her, but she couldn't make out their face through the blurriness. She couldn't really make out any details at all, and the only thought running through her head was Dean. But the smell was wrong... and it didn't feel right. She was hardly aware of the realization as her hands were tied again, her brief time of relief from the bindings over now that the sedative was wearing off. She was in and out of consciousness for awhile, but just when she felt like she was about to break out of the fog, she was pulled down under again.

                                      ~*~


                                      Jo's breathing was labored as she looked around. She was so disoriented, not a clue as to what was going on. There were more smudges on her arms and legs, the only indication she had that someone had been touching her. Her shoes were gone, and her wrists were reddened from the ropes, but she hardly felt it. It was only when she sucked in a particularly large breath through her mouth that she realized the first significant difference. The duct tape was gone. Commotion was around her, one man on the bed behind where she was strung up; she wasn't really aware of it, but he had a belt wrapped around her throat, pulled through the gapes in the headboard. Another was settled over her legs, his knees pressing her down as his hands firmly held her arms against the cold metal she was slotted up against. A third was at her side, and there was a canteen in his hands that he was tipping toward her lips. It wasn't until the cool water splashed over her drying lips that she realized how thirsty she was.

                                      Lips parting in a gasp, she opened her mouth and inclined her head toward the stream, gulping down as much as she possibly could. The amateur leaned a little too close to her though, alerting her of something else she was thirsty for. Abandoning the water in a heartbeat, Jo twisted her face even more, the water spilling over her chin as she inhaled. The man's soul involuntarily pulled upward, just grazing through her lips when the belt around her throat suddenly tightened into a noose. Startled, she screamed, thrashing as a panic built up around her; they were all struggling against one another, trying to rein the monster back long enough to shove a needle in her arm again, then once more, her lights went out.

                                      ~*~


                                      When Jo came to next, something was different. It had nothing to do with her surroundings; they were all the same. She woke up immediately, no fog left to cloud her brain. It was like a switch had been flipped, and when her vivid eyes looked around the room, the hunters stared back at her a bit warily. Her eyes were glowing a vivid green, the supernatural color not even seeping away when she blinked slowly at them. She breathed hard, eyes boring into them the way a tiger stared down a doe that knew it was near... somewhere.

                                      "What's happening to her?"

                                      "She's going rabid. It won't be long now..." Rick muttered, arms crossed and a pensive look on his face as he stared at the monstrous glare of his ex. That time, it took three injections to finally put Jo to sleep.

                                      ~*~


                                      There was a flash of light that lit up behind her eyelids, though she had no idea what it was for. People were talking, but she realized she didn't really understand what they were saying. "Maybe they need a little more incentive," Rick said, before another flash went off.

                                      "I don't get it, man. Why don't we just kill her already?! What's the point of this." Rick's head snapped toward his friend, a venomous glare in his stare.

                                      "You have any idea what she's capable of? Succubus don't just feed on your soul... they consume it. I mean completely. There's nothing left of you to be remembered for Heaven or Hell. You think they guy who started the Apocalypse deserves anything less than that? Another day or two and she won't even remember her own name. She'll kill them all without a single thought, and once she's made sure Sam is gone for good, we'll take her out too," Rick snapped aggravated that he had to explain his plan once again. A snarl, low but growing in volume is what broke up their conversation. Jo's head tilted toward them. The black hole inside her had grown, now so massive all she could see was the blinding light of their souls. Beacons in the dark that she needed. They looked at her, cold eyes watching with muted curiosity as he feet slid over the ground.

                                      She moved with the grace of a snake, coiling her feet beneath her, dragging more dirt and stray splinters onto her bare legs to add to the dirt they'd caked onto her from their fingers moving her about for however long she'd been here. She didn't care, didn't need to know anything but how she could move forward and consume the lights swirling before her. Pulling herself up, she leaned forward, tugging against her restraints past the point where she was bleeding; she didn't even notice. And when she realized she couldn't move forward anymore, she screamed. It was a roar if they'd ever heard one, completely inhuman, a feral sound that didn't stop; it only grew worse when she started to thrash, yanking against the bindings until she'd tore through her own skin, crimson blood staining her arms and the fraying ropes. The metal behind her whined under the strain, and another hunter finally had enough.

                                      He walked over and pulled back on steel-toed shoe before he slammed a kick into her ribs. Once. Twice. The right side of her torso finally flared after several cracks were heard, the pain momentarily breaking through her frenzy. She fell silent immediately, slumping back as she choked on her own breath. Her lungs couldn't pull in enough oxygen before they collapsed under the pain, and the lack of oxygen was what finally caused her to lose herself again

                                      Not that there was much of her left to remember.

                                      ~*~


                                      The bindings wouldn't hold her anymore, nor would the pain stop her. She was gone, nothing but a feral animal that acted upon instinct. And the only instinct she had was to feed. She snarled, screamed, thrashing out against the men wrapping their arms around her, trying to wrestle her back. She twisted, trying to press her mouth close enough to steal their souls. Anything. Her nails lashed out, clawing at flesh so viciously she drew blood, and maybe even skimmed bone. They were shouting, their peaceful means of tranquilization not working on her anymore. It took four men to finally restrain her enough that they could effectively shove her into another room, and smack into metal bars lining the wall. More bars shut in front of her, effectively caging her in a small cell that was no bigger than 5x5 feet. Once, twice, she slammed against the bars, shoving her forehead through them and screaming for all of Heaven and Hell to hear her cries.

                                      The men had plenty of cuts and bruises to show for their efforts, heaving chest as they slowly backed away from the growling monster who used to be a girl. She wasn't anymore, didn't even resemble a person with how bright her eyes were glowing, the black marks and dried blood making her look ungodly evil. Half her face was still swollen with bruising from her fractured cheek, and there was a dark band around her neck from where a belt had choked her too tightly. Puncture holes littered the insides of her elbows from how many times she'd been injected, and she'd lost one fingernail by digging too deeply into someone's skin. It was obvious she had trouble breathing, judging by how each time she took a breath, it stuttered out of her just as quickly, and she favored the side that had three broken ribs. The white dress she wore had completely grayed, and was ripped after the scuffle, the smooth flesh showing beneath provocative even in spite of the monstrosity she'd become. And she positioned herself as if she were proposition them, trying to trick them forward so she could steal their very souls. No one dared go near her though, and eventually Jo began to loose too much of her energy.

                                      She lowered herself to the bottom of the cage, laying out so she was resting on her good ribs, even in spite of the fact that it pressed her broken cheek up against the bars. She blinked hazily, her unfocused green eyes staring at the empty room she was in, waiting for something to wander too closer to her. Her hands laid outside her cage, as if trying to reach for anything but lacking the strength to do so anymore. She breathed shallowly, chapped and cracked lips parted. She was so far down the rabbit hole that not a single thought passed through her brain without the light of a soul around the beckon her.

rhapsody of armageddon's Significant Otter

Desirable Lunatic

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    Sammy - Boy With the Demon Blood
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                                  They weren't meant to have fun, and they weren't meant to be happy. He'd said it before; they were cursed. The first night had been stressful, but that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. Sam was torn between the two people he loved most in the world, and he didn't know how to help either of them. Sawyer was breaking down, and Dean was lost. After Dean left, Sam went to go help Sawyer. He pulled her out of the bathroom and let her cry in his arms, the same worried thought running through his brain that hadn't left since they found the vampire.

                                  That was a hunters work, and now hunters had Jo. It didn't bode well for the woman; she was likely already dead. He couldn't voice that though. He couldn't break either of his companions like that, not when he had to be the one to keep them together. It had been hard; he didn't know what to do either, but Sawyer was the one who decided they should split up. He was reluctant to let her go. With Jo missing, Sam was worried about Sawyer disappearing on him too. He couldn't handle that, and he didn't know how Dean was handling himself. He let her go though, trusting she knew how to handle herself by now, and under the promise that she would call or text him often to let him know she was okay. "I love you too."

                                  That had only been day two.

                                  Sam remembered his conversation with Miles, and the genius brain he had thought back on that day. Miles had seemed spooked after they caught him, and at the time he spent with the other, he assumed Miles questioning had to do with his interest in Jo. But now that interest was painted in another light, and it seemed so obvious he couldn't understand how he hadn't seen it before. He'd skirted over those details though, not wanting his brother's rage to turn on him and distract them from the case. A few solo questions with a hunter, and Sam found out that Miles did in fact run with Rick, amongst a group of other guys. It was a stag group, strong, able men working together hunting in these trying days. There were several of them, like Tim's, and all knew each other. They had common hanging grounds, like the Roadhouse used to be for their kind of folk.

                                  So they started east and hit up as many as they could think of. People were dodgy though, Rick likely having beaten them to the punch and warning the others he needed to lay low for awhile. b*****d. At one point, Sam had called Castiel for help, but the angel wasn't answering. He was probably on the other side of the universe, fruitlessly searching for his father. Even Sam couldn't sleep much with how little they had to go on. It didn't bode well for Jo's chances, and Sam knew from law school the longer someone was missing, the less likely they were to ever be found. They'd found Jo before, he reminded himself. Hunters had an uncanny ability to find missing's persons cases because they knew what to look for. The problem was, they were up against other hunters who knew the same things they did. They knew what to look for and they knew what the Winchesters were looking for. It was a battle of wits, and from what Sam gathered speaking to other hunters, Rick was one of the best.

                                  His dad was one of the reasons succubi were extinct. The news made them a little more frantic to find her, but each lead brought them in circles. They couldn't ask any of their trusted contacts, because any one could leak back to Ellen what had happened, and they couldn't deal with a sobbing mother right now... no matter how fierce that mother was. Even Rufus was off limits to them, since even though he had a rocky relationship with Bobby, he was still too close to their father figure. It was on the fourth day that Sam realized Dean was wearing Jo's necklace. His hazel eyes caught on it for a moment, staring at the little black pendant pensively. His brother had fixed it, and now it adorned the place where his used to sit comfortably. It tore Sam up in ways he couldn't comprehend, because he knew what it would do to Dean if they didn't find Jo at the end of this witch hunt. He couldn't let that happen to his brother.

                                  It was on the fifth day that things got really bad. Sam received an email from someone he didn't recognize. He should have deleted it, but the title caught his attention. Lose something? Wary eyes, furrowed brows, Sam clicked on the email, only for a picture to pop up. His face paled, expression falling into one of shock as he quietly gasped Oh my God before he could fully stop himself. He tried to delete the picture before Dean came over, but it was too late. There was a single photograph of a blonde, her white dress dirtied to an ashen gray. There was bruising on the half of her face they could see through her mess of curls hiding the rest of her face, her eye slightly swollen from the puffed up area. A dark, solid band of bruising lined her neck like a collar. The bit of skin peaking beneath the ropes around her wrists was pink and raw, and she had obvious finger marks smeared against her thigh, left behind by grease. If it weren't for the dress he recognized from the night she'd been taken... and the fact that hooded eyes were a familiar lime green, Sam wouldn't have even recognized the battered woman in the photograph.

                                  At first, it didn't make sense why they'd do such a thing, but somehow through the frenzy of trying to calm down his brother, he realized. He knew what they were doing. They were provoking them. It was a war tactic designed to make them grow more frantic and crazed. They were pushing them, hoping they'd become desperately reckless. And it was working. Needless to say, Dean almost killed a man that night, and Sam had barely been able to reel him back without getting a fist in the face. The clock was ticking, and it wasn't in their favor. The question was why? It was starting to feel like this trap was for them, but Sam couldn't figure out why until he thought about the last time he'd run into a group of stag hunters.

                                  That thought dropped a gruesome pit in his stomach.

                                  Dean was ready to go throw himself at another hunter after the one he'd nearly bashed into a wall having run off, leaving Sam little time to really dwell on it. Luckily though, Dean's phone rang. Sam actually let out a breath, momentarily dropping his fighting stance. While Sawyer had his attention, at least he wouldn't have to engage a raging bull. She told them to meet her, and it felt like in the blink of an eye they were there. Sam didn't usually care about Dean's speeding, and he didn't say anything this time, but he was actually a little afraid his brother was going to break the Impala with how fast he was pushing her to fly. They arrived in one piece (by the grace of God), and Sawyer let them in only after they'd hollered.

                                  His girlfriend seemed harder after her week away, and Sam instantly took note of the cuts and bruises marring her beautiful flesh. Worry creased his brow, and he immediately wanted to ask, but Dean and Sawyer were already breaking out into an argument. Sam let out a heavy breath, watching helplessly as they duked out their pools of information. Sam kept quiet, hanging back and forfeiting this round as referee. He knew there was no use. He looked at the computer with his brother, and continued to stare at it while they argued. The place fit. It was abandoned, easily guarded, and in the middle of nowhere. If men were watching it too, that only strengthened the prospect this was the place.

                                  "It's a trap," Sam muttered finally, voicing his opinion for the first time in days. His pensive eyes flickered from the computer up to his loved ones, who were already packing themselves for war. "They didn't just want Jo... this is a trap for all of us. Maybe they think we're tainted working with a monster, or maybe-" he couldn't say it, but his expression said it all. Maybe they know about the Apocalypse. Sam stared down, lips pursing before he finally rose to get himself ready. "We should make a plan.... and prepare for everything."

                                  They locked and loaded, changing into clothes that could easily conceal them in the dark, and choosing the most efficient weapons that could engage a large group of people... and a fortified prison. When they finally arrived, parking the car a few miles away and walking the rest to more properly sneak in, Sam glanced over the perimeter. The place looked like a death trap, an ominous gray tomb of bricks and efficiently placed windows. Great. He knew his comrades were gnawing at the bit to rush in; they were practically rabid with their anger, and Sam could only be grateful Sawyer hadn't seen the picture he swiftly deleted from his computer. "I'll distract as many as I can... you guys get in and find Jo."

                                  Sam whispered it to them before he stalked away from them, crouched in the long grass that covered the area around the property. They were more like stalks of wheat, but the point was they were high enough to conceal an adult if they crouched long enough. Sam set himself up beneath the shadow of a tree. With a rifle in hand, he set himself up and scoped out one of the second story windows. A man was walking around, a high powered rifle of his own in hand. He was on the lookout, but it looked like his attention was straying, which was just perfect for Sam. Bringing the gun up, he took a deep breath and lined his shot up. Then, the shot thundered through the air, simultaneously alerting every member in the outbuilding that they were there while it also sent one man to the ground in a heap, a bloody hole through his head. Sam knew it was only a matter of seconds before a blood bath began, so he shouldered his rifle and swiftly moved through the grass as flashlights began to search the grounds for movement. He leaped across a small creak, sprinting his way for another angle on the house, and every so often, he fired off a random shot to the house just to keep their focus on him. He wouldn't be able to keep it for long, for as soon as Dean and Sawyer were in the rouse would be up. And the moment that came, Sam made a beeline for the building's side entrance.

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#416D6E
#732727
                          ❧xxDean knew what they were walking in to. He didn’t even half expect to find Jo alive, and if she was… He knew what to prepare for. Sawyer didn’t, and he hadn’t stopped to tell her even the half of it. All he told her was, “When we get in there, you let me handle Jo.” It wasn’t a question. It was a direct order, as if coming from a superior officer as opposed to a friend. Sawyer looked at him, but something shrouded in his darkened stare backed her off from any bickering words and she nodded, clipped and short. She pulled out of the car, waiting on the go-ahead from Dean. The blond looked at his brother for only the briefest of moments before tipping his head in a nod and jerking it for Sawyer to follow. The duo jogged closer to the house’s perimeter, twisting themselves into a curl near the doorway. A hollow, echoing, gunshot rang clear through the forest. Dean’s body lurched up from his hiding place and he charged the door, not bothering with side or rear entrances. Sawyer followed, leaning back to the wall as Dean’s body rammed against the wooden entryway. It gave way with a crack, the tensed hunters all prepared for war.

                          Six on two. Sam’s distraction wasn’t as fruitful as they had hoped. The snake was the epicenter, his vicious eyes honing in on Dean, himself. Dean didn’t even notice that the tiny brunette wasn’t creeping in beside him but had sneaked off to the opposing side of the building. “You two are like trained monkeys,” snarled Rick. Dean took a step forward, and six guns lifted to direct at him. “Hold right there, a*****e. Where’s your demon brother?” Rick stepped a pace out, but backed away before Sam could even hope to get a lucky shot off. “Y’know, you’re not much of a hunter, are ya? I mean, demon brother… Demon slut.” Dean’s hands didn’t even tremble as he lifted a near-black rage-filled stare to examine Rick across the room. “You set up a plan to let the devil out, call him to y’all? He your buddy?”

                          Now, Dean knew where Sawyer was. Her slender frame moved in near silence, approaching until she wrapped her hand with the knife around one hunter’s neck from behind, pulling him back to her chest and shielding her face behind his shoulder. His strangled cry was enough to let the rest know what was happening as a thin trail of blood slicked down from where Sawyer’s razor knife just touched skin.

                          “Here she is, gentlemen. The one who’s ******** the bringer of Lucifer. What’s that make yo—”

                          Dean charged, fists connecting with the nearest hunter as he ripped him back up and delved a knee directly into his ribcage. He pounded a fist to his head and kicked him once in the cheek when he was down, for good measure. The second got similar treatment, his nose connecting with an elbow and a quick boot in the jewels. Guns were lifting toward Dean, but Sawyer, one hand still wrapped around the man’s neck and her knife still thoroughly in place, lifted her gun and ripped the hammer back, pointing it across at the smallest of all the hunters. That left two unaccounted for, one of which had vanished nearly entirely. Dean spun, blood slicked on his knuckles after a sickening crack echoed in the room from bones of one hunter giving way. The one on the ground howled in pain and Dean shifted his stare up to the man.

                          Sawyer, on the other hand, was focused elsewhere. In a moment of horror, she stared at the macabre picture of her best friend and felt her arm slack. The hunter wrapped in her arm took advantage, lifting his hand to shove the knife away and ducking out of her grasp, weaving his hand in her hair as he twisted her down to her knees. Sawyer groaned as his hand caught first the one that had the knife, releasing her hair as he bent her wrist at an ungodly angle. “You,” hissed the man. Sawyer’s vicious stare lingered up at him and he sneered, curling his fist as Dean circled Rick and searched visually for the two missing hunters. The smallest was nothing more than a pipsqueak, and as Dean’s body passed by him, he gripped him from behind and pulled him into a hold that left him breathless. Incapacitation was easy as the idiot collapsed to the ground. Then, there was only the snake to face off against. Two were gone, and Sam could handle those.

                          Sawyer made a ghastly noise from across the room followed by a clatter. Dean spared a glance her way, watching as her face whipped to the side from a secondary blow. “You think you would’ve learned the first time,” snarled the hunter down at the brunette. Sawyer looked up at him, unwavering as she spit a saliva and blood concoction up at him. He groaned in disgust as it mixed into his eyes and she lifted, her wrist pushed at a painful angle as she swung her leg out and cracked it against his chest. She didn’t want to think about the pain that spiked up through her arm, or the hollow crack she heard in her hand, or how suddenly she felt ready to vomit. She just watched as the man hit against the cage and collapsed to the ground. Rick made a motion to save his friend, but Dean lunged forward and grabbed the man by his shirt collar, whipping him around and sliding his blade from its hold at his hip. The level of rage inside the man, hatred beyond the shadow of a doubt, marred every thought and second as he dragged the blade in a thin line across the man’s throat. There was no pressure, nothing more than a sting.

                          From there, he was forced to watch as Jo sucked in a breath, greedy fingers groping for the man at Sawyer’s feet while she pulled in everything she could. Sawyer watched, counting to three in her head before kicking the man back and away from Jo with everything she had. She averted carnal hands and kicked again, once more. He was out of danger from Jo, but not Sawyer.

                          Three sets of boots trumped through the doorway, one shuffling more than the others and Sawyer glanced up, just as Dean did, while Sam was dragged in. Sawyer felt a hand wrap around her boot, and she wasted no time kicking at the man’s jawline with her other foot, watching his head snap back and fall slack as she spun on the others. Her damaged wrist was hanging limp at her side and blood slicked her lips as she panted and stared at the men, her gaze flicking down to meet her knife only once.

                          “Now!” Rick ordered, his snake-smile resting on Dean.

                          Sam was drawn a pace closer to the cage walls, then another. Abruptly, Dean and Sawyer both knew what was about to happen and Sawyer rushed forward, one heavy fist thwacking her away and off to the side. She cried out when her arm hit the floor, the pain blinding her for several lengthy seconds. It was almost a second too long. She focused and attentively caught hold of her knife, the stronger of the weapons she could use. In two long strides, she reached the hunters from behind and buried the blade into the first one’s back, a panicked attempt to rescue Sam. He screamed in pain, and Sawyer pushed it deeper in, watching as his knees began to buckle. It was the first man she killed. Of course, stabbing a man in the back meant there was excess time before he bled out and died. As he dropped, she kicked him toward the cage in a frenzied motion and hauled back a pace to keep from Jo’s clawing hands while Sam was able to incapacitate the other hunter.

                          Now, there was only one left. Dean’s eyes flicked to the duo over his shoulder, his blade still pressed to Rick’s throat and his knee effectively pinning his legs from twists and turns that could fend Dean, himself, off. “Get out,” he growled, not to Rick, but to the others.

                          Sawyer’s gaze shifted to where the dying man had finally fallen limp, his stream of green vanquished and Jo’s supernatural green eyes faded ever so slightly. Sawyer felt ill as she looked at Jo’s bloodied and bruised face, but Dean simply snarled the statement again. He was going to do something that, for weeks to come, he would not forgive himself for. Sawyer stepped toward the door, pausing as livid hazel eyes met with the man Dean had pinned. Then, she glanced at Dean. “Don’t let her kill him,” she snarled. “She’s been through enough.”

                          Dean didn’t say anything, but his jaw tightened into a rigid line as his eyes died off completely. He understood, Sawyer recognized it in his eyes, but would he accept? He was far from himself right now. Sawyer moved for the door, only after one last glance in Jo’s direction. Blood, bruising, it was worse than a horror show. She didn’t once say she didn’t want Dean to kill Rick. With good reason. Outside, she curled her arm up to brace against her body, her gun still strewn inside could be collected later. She was shaking, but she barely noticed. All she saw in her mind’s eye was the broken frame of her best friend, the desolation caused by that was a wasteland quick to try and swallow her whole. Her stomach churned, bile building and it worsened only when the first scream echoed from the house.

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#732727
#416D6E
                                    ❝xxWhen the door snapped ominously shut, Dean’s eyes never once wavered from the man dug into the wall. His knee pressed harder as the knife skimmed across his throat once more, and abruptly lowered. He tore it through the flesh of Rick’s chest, pulling back and listening to the grunt pain. Dean stared, jaw still rigid, mouth still thin, eyes still dead. If Jo didn’t come back from this unscathed, it would be worse. Mossy green had blackened to a fading ember of what they once were. The gore inside of Jo’s cell and blackout of emotion forced upon him by the rage swollen in his chest made them the way he was. Guilt hadn’t kicked in, not yet. He didn’t have time to fester on it, cope with it. Later, he could resent himself. For now? He resented one human being, and Dean didn’t have a problem killing him. Humans were crazy, demons he understood.

                                    Not even demons were this evil. They tortured, marred, raped. Rick made him more sick than every single smoke b***h on the planet, and what he wouldn’t give to shove one of them down his murderous throat and stab the life out of both at the same time right now. Instead, he peeled the frayed shirt away from the bleeding gape in Rick’s chest and examined it. Rick attempted to struggle, earning a brutish forearm to the nose. Blood spurted down his face, smearing down his lips and peppering Dean’s jacket. He didn’t pause at the groaning whine, he simply lured the knife in once more. The same line, the same place that would have scarred Jo had she not the ability to heal herself. This time, Rick didn’t keep so quiet. There was a strangled, echoing holler as he clawed for Dean’s face. Dean pulled the blade back, digging it through a third time. The flow of crimson marred by the screams from his victim and the gory, brick infested room was more than a vivid memory.

                                    Suddenly, it was like he was back. Reveling in the screams, enjoying the cleave of broken flesh beneath his cherry stained knife. The inhuman aspects of Dean had made another thorough comeback, the broken side that left him so desolate to return to humanity clawed and screeched their way up from the pit all around him. He lifted blackened, dead eyes to meet Rick’s teary ones, the man choking on the pain. Pain he deserved, Dean didn’t doubt it for a single moment in time. “I get it,” Rick growled. “Somethin’ inside you snapped—”

                                    Dean plunged the blade into the line, feeling the squirm, nails digging into the side of his neck as blood sprayed up toward his stony expression and coated his cheeks until Rick’s hand went limp against his side. Collapsing into darkness, Dean rolled his head back and watched. Waiting. Silent. It was eerily silent, aside from meager, gasping breaths from Jo behind him and Rick in his arms. Minutes passed, how many, Dean couldn’t say. He just stood there, his head lolling back as he closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nostrils. It wasn’t over yet. Though, Rick surely wanted it to be. If he knew what was coming next, he may have begged Dean to plunge the knife in, finish him altogether. Dean wasn’t willing to do that, not even for a moment. He wanted him to suffer for the pain he caused.

                                    There was a moment of humanity, angelic words slipping in through his thoughts. Righteous. This was how he’d started the apocalypse, by being unable to do the right thing. He’d initiated all of it, Sam was just the trigger that the demons pulled at exactly the right moment. Sam made his choices, sure, but they were worked through a thousand silver tongues before he got to the spot necessary. What had Dean done? He’d been a coward; given in to the pain and suffering to make his own fade away for a time. It didn’t help him then, it wasn’t going to help him now. He was almost willing to end it for Rick, snap his neck and walk away. Then, the man stirred. He groaned in agony, pulling his head forward as he choked a breath and spluttered through bruised, bloodied lips. Rick’s eyes shifted open, their hardened stare a threat. A warning. He saw it, deep inside. Dean and Sam weren’t getting away from this any more than Jo would be, Rick would make sure of it. The moment of humanity slid away and Dean wrapped his hand around the man’s neck, dropping the knife with a clatter as he batted the askew baseball cap from his head and wove his hand into his hair. Tearing him away from the wall, Dean drew him toward the center of the room.

                                    Foggy eyes flicked toward Dean’s face, trying to find reason for what he was doing. Dean didn’t look down as he dragged the stumbling man further, his kicking legs barely helpful. Muscles strained as he jerked him another pace, and then Rick seemed to get the gist of what was about to happen to him. “No,” he breathed, drawing his damaged arm up to grab Dean’s collar as he stumbled half near the ground and kicked his flailing limbs once more. “No!” howled Rick as Dean jerked him another step and wrapped his hand into his hair tighter, forcing his head back and up to incline his lips toward the starving victim inside of the tiny crate.

                                    In those subtle, slow motion moments, Dean stared across at the woman curled against the bars. He examined her beautiful, broken face and vibrant, scarred green eyes. She was lost, he worried forever. Matted blonde hair; ashen expression. When was the last time they’d fed her? Not just souls, food. Bruises lined her throat, like a plum collar. The dress she’d worn that night, so flamboyant and elegant in the same fell swoop, was grimy, torn, a ghostly echo of what it had once been. Just like Jo. His fingers tightened, the snarling expression returning as he watched Jo hunger for the man before her. Relentlessly, he reached down and shielded himself from Jo’s carnal instincts behind Rick’s shoulder as his hand cinched around the man’s clenched jaw and reefed it open. When he pulled back up, Jo’s lips were parted and a silky stream of green life force was peeling from between Rick’s own lips. Dean watched, counting, waiting. He had a tolerance, not everybody did. As soon as Rick began to fall slack, he tore him away, Sawyer’s words ringing clear. Dean had seen the ‘snacks’ Sawyer left for the blonde, he wasn’t that inebriated by rage. Did he care? Not remotely. He wanted Rick to suffer in every way possible. The man’s translucent eyes flicked up to Dean, begging for an end.

                                    Finally, Dean was willing to give it to him. He left the carcass to gather his knife. When he returned, Rick was muttering something. Over, and over, he whispered it. Dean didn’t want to listen, but he couldn’t help it. The man’s dying words had to be worth something, if not much. Dean dropped as he readied himself to plunge the blade into the man’s chest. “What’d you do to her…” Rick whispered. Dean felt the rage spike again, lips twitching vehemently.

                                    “[******** you, you scum sucking waste of breath son of a b***h,” Dean snapped. The knife wasn’t necessary, Rick’s eyes had closed finally, but Dean dug the knife beneath his sternum regardless. Jo had killed him, that didn’t mean she would ever have to know it was her. For all she, or any of the others, would know, Dean had done it. In a lot of ways, he had. He lifted his arm, wiping his face on the blood splattered over his cheeks and swiped the crimson away from the silvery blade before sliding it back into its house on his hip.

rhapsody of armageddon's Significant Otter

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XXXXDon't be aroused by my confession ¯`·.·• ☪ ☪ ☪ •·.·´¯ unless you don't give a good god damn about redemption

XXXXI know Christ is coming, so am I `•·.·´ ☪ ☪ ☪ `·.·•´ and you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye





                                      Commotion caught Jo's attention, perking the blonde's head up with an unnaturally feral grace. A raspy breath pulled into her lungs. Noise meant people, and people meant souls. She used what bare strength she had to prop herself up a little, bloodied fingers curling around the edges of the bars as she intensely stared through the gaps. They came into view eventually, and she didn't register friend of foe. All she saw were the captivating luminescence of their life forces. What they were in their cores. It was breathtakingly beautiful, surreal and mystical, and completely captivating. They looked as though they were almost liquid, malleable and swimming through darkened silhouettes. Though each was bright with the same golden-white glow and a metallic sheen, they each had subtleties that were different than others - influenced by their strength of will and emotions. Some had more color, others less; there were faded spots, and cooler gleams of whitish-blues as they rapidly moved about one another.

                                      The faster they moved, the larger their anger, the more chaotic they looked. They swirled about themselves while they collided with the bright gleam of others. It was all she could see; everything else was a black as the pit her consciousness was stuck in. She wouldn't remember this, not clearly; it was too inexplicable. There were so many of them, and some were beginning to fall into the room she was in. Mesmerized, starving, she pulled herself up into a slouched sitting position, clinging to the bars to keep her eyes focused on the movement. One clattered near her, and without thought she lunged. Her face pressed into the bars, claws scraping over flesh until she had an angle. Desperately, she sucked in, a breath of pure elation pulling into her lungs. It was gone too quickly though, too feeble an excuse to really do anything for her. All it did was give her more energy to scream in rage at being denied again. Her teeth grit together, broken body slamming into the bars as she lashed out to pull her source of life back.

                                      Livid, she thrashed against the bars, causing the metal to clang along with the brawl around her. Sam was pulled in, chagrined and a little dazed. He'd busted in the side door, calling attention to himself. Miles and another man had gone after him, and while he applied a crippling pressure to Miles' busted nose, the other had snuck up behind him and got a lucky shot off with a bat. He was lucky it only hit him in the shoulder though, sending him to the ground but not unconscious. His stomach had been met with a few boots though, momentarily incapacitating him... enough so they could drag him here. His dazed hazel eyes fell on the cage, and his mouth fell slightly slack at the sight he saw. Jo's attention pulled wherever the closest soul came from, and right now her predatory eyes were settled on him. Her breathing was ragged, and the poor girl was a macabre mess, pulling herself toward him and reaching out with desperate fingers.

                                      Sam struggled, pulling back against the men tugging him forward, and his large form bought him some time, enough for Sawyer to come up and even the fight out. Putting Miles down after that was easy. He twisted around, slamming him face first into the bars before he yanked the unconscious man back to fall out of harm's way. The other man wasn't so lucky, falling within Jo's range. Her nails dug into his throat as she dragged him smack into the bars, sucking down all she could. This time she didn't take the luxury to savor it; this time she didn't hesitate. She yanked it out, ripping what was left of the dying energy out with a vacuum's force. His eyes widened, and he choked on his own last breath, trying to scream in agony and failing. It wasn't enough; the energy had already been fading, but the puncture holes in her arms faded, and the lighter bruises of fingertips from when she'd been wrestled into this cell disappeared.

                                      She needed more; wanted more. She could move easier, pulling herself up onto her knees, fingers wrapping back around the bars as she stared with vibrant eyes at those who were left. Her mouth was parted, lungs still struggling on the air she couldn't quite keep down past her cracked ribs. Sam hesitated, looking from Jo to his brother, and back again. He hadn't seen Dean look this dead since... ever. It worried him, and he wasn't really willing to leave until Dean barked at them again. He waited until Sawyer was willing to walk out, and brought a hand up to brace the back of her shoulders until they were out the door, both shut out from whatever was about to happen next.

                                      Two left. Jo's slightly wide eyes were fixated on them, a sense of wonder in her eerie, glowing stare. Her hands crawled over one another, reaching from bar to bar as she slyly moved herself closer. They were beautiful, though one was far brighter than the other. Both were tinged with fiery hues, swirling chaotically against one another. She didn't hear the screams; she saw the pain and the anger and elation. Finally, their dance with one another was done, and they both edged closer to her. Her gaze, slitted eyes focused on the brighter of the two, transfixed by his luminescence until it was hidden behind the other. It flared, keeping her attention, and she reached out with slow, gentle fingers. "Shhh," she whispered, the sound of it as deadly as her looks. She inclined her head forward, tilting to where she knew she belonged. Her fingers wrapped around it, but fingers were already there - fingers she didn't recognize at first.

                                      The pull turned from teasing to excruciating in two seconds flat, and an agonized scream tore from Rick's throat as she finally pulled all she wanted and more. It was already too late by the time it was wrenched away, the flicker of light dying out even as the man struggled for breath. With her first real gasp of air, Jo tilted back and sunk into the corner of the bars. Her cheek lost it's swelling, the bruising faded as the cracks beneath her the skin mended together. The band around her neck became several shades lighter, a pale pink ring instead of solid purple. The rings around her wrists grew new skin, only the stains of blood left behind. One rib healed, then two. The blackness faded, grayer shades coming to light and foggy details replacing the vibrancy of the light she'd seen before.

                                      Her eyes still gleamed, but they lost their deadly look; now, they just looked fatigued, as if she'd wasted all the energy she just took to mend her body. It was accurate. She felt less frenzied though, and when she moved next, still oblivious to the events outside her cage, her movements were calmer, slower. She sat up, gripping to the bars to help her hold her own weight. She tried to stand, and got half way up. The moment she tried to straighten her torso though, Jo cried out in pain. One hand shot up to grab around her fractured ribs, and she collapsed back to her knees. She couldn't breathe again, and her breath stuttered as she tried to get ahold of the pain. Now that she wasn't completely submerged in her instincts, the pain had returned, and she couldn't shut it out. Involuntary tears were slipping down her cheeks, and she didn't hear the cage door swing open, or the voice next to her.

                                      She could barely feel the fingers pressing into her cheeks, but she felt the lips brush against her own. She could feel the aura of another soul even with her eyes closed, and she leaned forward with her inhale, dragging it closer to her. This time was different. This time the breath extended past her feeding, a small gasp accompanying the first burst of life that passed through her lips. Her fingers came up to dig into the warm body, and yes she could feel it was a body. Soft and strong all at once, Jo pulled a little more, her chest swelling with an elation she didn't quite understand yet, but she felt like she was going to burst with it. If perfection had a taste, this would likely be it. It was the taste of sin, and divine wrath all in one. Sweet, bitter, unearthly, and more refreshing than spring rain; it was more than just a taste, but a feeling - feelings that coursed through her that diminished the hole she felt trying to consume her own soul. She realized, with painful clarity, that she knew this soul.

                                      "Dean," the whispered syllable choked from her in her exhale, a shaky breath filled with tears marring the sound. She sunk forward, pressing her forehead against his as the tears started to well uncontrollably. With the next gasp of breath, she realized she could breath easily, her ribs expanding at the will of her lungs. Her fingers clamped around his face, and she pressed her lips to his without thought before she exhaled some of what she took back to him. Anything she could spare, until she felt the pain in her ribs threatening to come back. She didn't realized she'd climbed into his lap, and she couldn't stop her fingers from clawing at him, groping everything she could, just to make sure he was real.

                                      "You came for me.... you came for me," she babbled, choking out heavy sobs, flooding tears smudging the dirt on her face as she fisted the material of his shirt. She was shivering, a violent tremor in her limbs as she grew frantic in a completely different manner. She couldn't stop repeating the words, as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded in the insanity threatening to crush her. "I-" she hiccuped, the words getting stuck in her throat. She wanted to say it, to shove it out of her chest like she so desperately needed to. She loved, god damn it she loved him. It felt like the only thing she had to cling to, to keep her here because otherwise... she was afraid she was going to slip into the darkness again.

                                      She couldn't, though. Watery, dark eyes lifted to finally look him in the eyes, and she became breathless. "Thank you..." she whispered, the weight of the last week finally catching up to her now that she was... somewhat stable. She hadn't eaten; she'd barely drank, and though she'd slept... it wasn't real. "Thank you," she repeated, though it was harder to hear as she curled herself into his chest, resting one cheek against his shoulder. Exhausted, Jo fell completely unconscious, once again pulled into darkness. At least this time, she was warm.

rhapsody of armageddon's Significant Otter

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    Sammy - Boy With the Demon Blood
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                                  There were a lot of screams, and all had Sam's gut churning. Eventually, it grew quiet, and Sam debated going back in the room. What if something happened? What if something went wrong? Of course he was worried about Jo, but he was also worried about his brother. Dean wasn't in a good place, and Sam didn't entirely trust what his brother would do seeing his girlfriend like that. Sam didn't trust what he would do if their roles had been reversed. Finally, he couldn't bear it anymore, and he opened the door. He and Sawyer peaked in to see Dean pulling himself up, an unconscious Jo curled in his arms. Sam looked down at her still form, for a moment his brain short-circuiting.

                                  "Is she-?" Alive, yes. But was she still Jo? He watched his brother pensively as he walked by, the dark look still marring Dean's face, though his shoulders seemed less set with the blonde safely in his arms. Sam glanced back to see the carnage left behind. Rick was dead, blood seeping from his chest in thick pools. At least two of the men were still alive, though unconscious... and there may have been a third somewhere in there. For a moment, Sam had a decision to make. Did they kill the others, or leave the carnage be? On one hand, the survivors would probably think twice about coming after them again. On the other... they could spread the word to other hunters, and did any of them need to deal with another round of this? Tim already knew his secret, and now these ******** knew Jo's.

                                  The world was getting smaller on them. No hunter would dare work with them again if those left living decided to spread these dark tales. No one would listen to their side of it either. Sam's shoulders slumped. In these times though, could they really afford to be hacking away at their own? Even in the name of self preservation. His moral center (what was left of it) struggled with it; he was completely torn. In the end though, he left after the others. The decision might come back to haunt him, but at least he'd have a clear conscious for now.

                                  Then again... it was because he'd been oblivious to Miles in the first place that all this had happened.

                                  They left the establishment in tact. Let the real monsters inside deal with the carnage when they came to. They didn't stop either until they reached Bobby's house. For a moment, they contemplated stopping at a motel, but just the thought felt unsafe after what they'd all witnessed. They needed their haven. Jo needed to go home to her mother. That was a heavy burden riding on all their shoulders, and after that realization, they actually did stop at a motel, but only for an hour. Sam stood guard at the door, diligently keeping watch while Dean and Sawyer did what they had to do. She was changed out of the grimy dress, and the blood and smudges of dirt and greased gently sponged away. Jo didn't wake either, which was mildly frightening. She'd probably be rightly pissed if she knew, especially after everything, but they couldn't return her to her mother looking like the roadkill version of Dracula's bride.

                                  It was during that time that Sam noticed how bad it was. Jo wasn't a beefy girl; she was lean, too skinny for his tastes but not because she was unhealthy. She just had a petite build, though she filled out her frame exceptionally well, as Dean would tell anyone. Supple curves of healthy fat and strong muscle made the bulk of her body. But now? She'd dropped weight, the bones of her hips and cheeks showing a little more than before, an obvious sign that they'd starved her. Her fat had been eaten away, and the muscles in her arms asphyxiated by the restraints for too long. She was pale, frighteningly so, and there were dark circles under her eyes even in spite of her sleeping. The color was even tinged to show just how malnourished she was.

                                  They reached Bobby's by morning, and still Jo hadn't woken. If it weren't for her steady breathing, they all would have been a hell of a lot more worried. It did little to quell their fear, especially when Ellen opened the door and her eyes landed on the pallid sight of her daughter in Dean's arms. Horrified, Ellen stepped back enough to allow them all to shuffle into the house before she was barking for answers. What happened was a good question, and unfortunately none of them knew. They didn't know. Sam was left to explain, being that he was the least emotionally compromised and the most eloquent.

                                  "She was..." Even he didn't know how to approach this topic delicately, and he let out a ragged puff of air before he just said it. "Hunters found her. They... we took care of it. Brought her home," Sam said pathetically. Ellen looked two seconds away from a melt down.

                                  "How long?" The question was mutilated with emotions, and Sam hesitated, visibly fidgeting under wide chocolate eyes. He'd just told Jo's mother she'd been kidnapped.... by hunters, and now she wanted to know for how long. "How long?!"

                                  "A week." Ellen's eyes welled with tears, her hand shooting to her mouth as her head started to shake uncontrollably. Bobby paled, deathly silent from where he was stationed in the corner of the room. In the blink of an eye, Ellen turned venomous. Her hand flew away from her face and cracked across Sam's cheek so hard his head snapped around. The burn was instantaneous, and he winced horribly as the area reddened. Yeah... he deserved that. He deserved worse.

                                  "A week?! And you ******** ungrateful invalid's didn't tell me."

                                  "We didn't want you to worry-" Sam said, and instantly regretted it. That was not the way to go, as Ellen's anger rightfully spiked.

                                  "It's my ******** JOB to worry!" she shouted at him. Sam took the blow gracefully, clenching his jaws together in shame before a terse breath blew out his nose. He nodded once, before he looked at her seriously.

                                  "I know... but that's why we couldn't tell you. We had to get her back, and we couldn't-"

                                  "Don't you say another ******** word Samuel Winchester or I'll yank your tongue out of your a**," Ellen seethed, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You ******** youngin's. You think because I'm an old mare I'm useless? I dealt with hunter scum before the lot of you were [******** born!" she bellowed, and Sam turned his face away, chagrined. She twisted around storming over toward the couch where her daughter was, and practically shoved through Sawyer and Dean. "I ought to ring all yer ******** necks. You should have picked up the phone the second she went missing. I should kick you all out-"

                                  "Ellen-"

                                  "Don't!" Ellen snapped, but her voice wavered. She was kneeling next to the couch, eyes fixated on her daughter's ghostly face, and she cracked. Her shoulders shook as she hunched over the withered form of the most important person in the world to her, and the quivers grew until she was hysterically crying into her daughter's sternum, old fingers wrapping protectively around her flesh and blood.

                                  A few hours later, Ellen had calmed down. She'd stopped threatening them all with bodily harm, and had relinquished her hold on her daughter. While she let them near Jo again, she refused to speak to any of them. Bobby managed to get her into the kitchen to have a cup of tea, and convinced her to make something Jo would be able to stomach. Sam had hinted that it should be something light and easily digestible, though he didn't elaborate why. Jo was moved to the bedroom Dean and her often shared. More hours ticked by and the afternoon waned. Sam finally managed to convince Sawyer to go to bed. She needed sleep just as much as Jo did, and he promised to wake her the moment the blonde stirred. Convincing Dean that he needed to step away to shower was even harder, but somehow, Sam managed that too.

                                  The door to the room was left open, partly so everyone could keep an eye on Jo - as if she'd magically disappear again if they couldn't always see her, and partly because Sam had a suspicious hunch. He was the first one to walk by, and noticed the sharp movement from inside of the room. Jo flew up, gasping for air. Beady eyes looked around, and her hands flew up to claw at her own wrists for a good few seconds before she realized she could actually move her hands. Sam's lips thinned into a tight line as he watched Jo's wiry eyes glare at the bedspread behind her, mind trying to catch up to where she was.

                                  "Hey," Sam said to break her from her trance. Jo startled violently, jerking in the bed enough to cause it to bounce under her diminished weight slightly. She stared up at him, wide eyed and horrified, blinking as if she couldn't actually see him. "It's alright, Jo... you're safe. We're... we're at Bobby's," Sam said, hesitantly stepping toward the door. Jo stiffened for a moment, making Sam hesitate to grow closer. Reluctantly, she began to relax though, and he felt like he was watching a cat slowly lower its hackles. Glancing around the room, Jo noticed a tall glass of water left on the end table. Frantically, her hand snapped out, fingers ungracefully gripping around it. It jostled the water as she pulled it up.

                                  "Drink it slowly!" Sam hurriedly said, jerking forward slightly as if to stop her. He thought better of it though, catching himself before he moved too quickly toward her. Jo had leaned away from him, beady eyes warily watching him as he eased back, a terse breath deflating his chest. "I know you wanna chug it, but just... take small sips. You don't want to make yourself sick," Sam worded carefully, avoiding spilling out the real reason why she shouldn't drink too fast. Her stomach wasn't used to it anymore. She looked at him as if he were trying to trick her, before she considered his advice and choose to listen. He watched her struggle to keep herself restrained enough to take a tiny sip of the water. The sound of her swallow sounded painful, even to his own ears, and she slowly lowered the glass into her lap. Her eyes darted around again the same way they had before; she was searching for something. Or someone.

                                  "Sawyer's upstairs, asleep," Sam continued to speak with her, rubbing one hand against the back of his head sheepishly. Truth be told, now that she was awake, Sam was afraid to leave her alone... only because he knew how inner demons could torment someone when they were left to their own devices. "I, uh... finally got her to go to sleep. I told her I'd wake her up once you came around... And Dean's in the shower. He should be back soon. Your mom's making you something. D'you wanna eat something?"

                                  Jo didn't answer. She just continued to stare at him mistrustfully for another moment before she took another small sip of the water. She winced a little as it went down, for the cool liquid dragged at her raw throat. Her eyes kept focused on Sam though, guarded, but... calm. She looked as though she were trying to wrap her head around something, and he honestly couldn't blame her. He was babbling, but it was just to provide a distraction. He didn't know what to say anymore than Jo did, and he didn't hold it against her that she didn't want to talk to him. All he could do was keep her focused on the present for the mean time, until someone more emotionally sound with her could come and pick up the slack.

ScorpionsApprentice's Significant Otter

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#732727
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                                    ❝xxLimp; she just fell limp. Dean’s arms remained steady around her body as he watched her sallow cheeks and parted, ashen lips pull small breaths in and lift her gaunt chest and abdomen in one. She looked like it had been more than a week, a month, maybe. Dean smoothed his finger over her cheek, his deadened gaze earning life again only after her first, true words to him, but even so… They had lost the frivolity held before. His fingers tightened around her as he pulled to his feet, refusing to relinquish his hold as he stoically passed through the doors and ignored Sam’s question or Sawyer’s pleading look. The brunettes kept pace as well as they could until Dean arrived at the brim of the hill and steadied back down it. The Impala was still waiting, quiet and cool as he approached and Sawyer skidded up next to him. Her fingers caught his arm, and instinctively he jerked her away. Soft, pleading eyes met his and she wrapped her hand around Jo, pulling the blonde’s weight against her as she popped the door open with the other arm. Jo wrapped against her body, Sawyer lowered cautiously and pulled all their limbs inside. Dean’s eyes locked on Sawyer, but he didn’t question her decision, no matter the tremble of one arm under the lessened weight of Jo. Sawyer wasn’t complaining, and they knew Dean was the best out of all to drive. He couldn’t even complain at that. Cautiously, he closed the door and Sawyer moved her body along the seat, bracing Jo’s head up until she could sit beneath her.

                                    As Dean pulled into the front seat, he glanced in the rear view and watched the brunette stare down, tears finally leaking down her cheeks as she smoothed fingers through Joanna’s mussed hair and over her tattered shoulders. Dean didn’t know, but Sawyer was making sure this wasn’t a dream. She’d had this dream in the past week and woke feeling cold and alone.

                                    They stopped only after making the decision to go to Bobby’s. Dean couldn’t speak, he didn’t trust his voice. The most indication anybody got for the first few hours were grunts, subtly slowing into ‘yesses’ and ‘no’s’. Sawyer was helped with Jo’s body when they slid out of the car at the motel to change Jo and get her ready for the returning to her mother. Sam remained outside the door while Sawyer and Dean were inside. Sawyer propped behind Jo, helping to remove the dress and bringing a soft cloth to her gaunt cheeks, gently wiping away dirt, blood and grime. A bandage was wrapped around the nail-less finger and Sawyer even took the time to brush most of the mats and caked grime from Jo’s hair while Dean focused on cleansing her body and reclothed her in a simple, blue shirtdress Sawyer had offered in lieu of Jo not toting the most convenient of loose, easy to slip on clothing. The buttons up the front made Dean’s life easier and eventually, Jo looked like she was simply incapacitated. Starving, skinny, but unconscious and not half-dead.

                                    Dean braced Jo’s weight to him as they returned to the Impala and initiated the same turn of events as before: Sawyer took Jo’s weight against her chest and crawled in backwards while, this time, Dean helped to curl the woman’s limbs in upon noticing the favor Sawyer had for her wrist. He didn’t have the time, nor effort, to focus on any damages Sawyer had incurred during their escapade, but that simple assistance was enough. Sawyer curled her arm around Jo’s head and they set off once more, not stopping until they arrived at Bobby’s. Dean carried Jo up the stairs and they were assaulted by Ellen, earning a choked stare from Sawyer and one less emotional from Dean. He already felt guilty, dead, lost, there was nothing Ellen could say to make him feel worse.

                                    Where was Jo to utter forgiveness for what he’d done? For letting her get so far away without him? She was lost in an unconscious dreamland. Once Ellen had allowed them access to her once more, Dean sat next to Jo and gazed forward while Sawyer curled behind the blonde’s head again, stroking her cheeks as if she were memorizing every detail. She wasn’t crying, but she didn’t look like she was going to stay strong for much longer. Shut down; the two of them combined couldn’t even make a single person. Dean was lost in remorse while Sawyer in her abysmal despair. They didn’t speak to one another, or anybody else. Sam approached, suddenly. He convinced Sawyer she needed rest, and the woman robotically agreed after a lengthy convincing. She leaned down and kissed Jo’s head before relinquishing her place. Dean didn’t move, even when Sam came to him. A harsh, dark glare was directed at his brother before a growling, stubborn, “No.”

                                    He had demons to fight through, things he’d almost come to terms with until today. Sam tried again, and Dean exhaled a gravelly noise. “Damn it, Sam! I said no!” his first two sentences in hours. Finally, Sam managed to convince him. A shower, just a shower. He didn’t have to sleep, didn’t even have to stray far. Dean glanced at Jo, drinking in her unconscious, slack jawed expression and leered back at his brother as he finally hauled to his feet. “She wakes up, you come get me,” he warned, lowly. It didn’t matter that he was going to shower, that could be cut short. He left the room and lingered in silence as he moved down the hall, hesitating only as he listened to a pot bang harshly in the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway that could change his direction, Dean decided better than to try and converse with the livid, terrified maternal figure. He lowered his head, moving silently into the bathroom and stripping down.

                                    They didn’t make water hot enough to seethe his pain away, not even in Hell. Dean tried to forget the images, tried to sink them into the depths and swallow every ounce of remorse flooding his system more freely. The scalding temperature pinked his skin where it touched, but he didn’t touch the temperature gauge. Finally, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself, drying off and hesitating upon the stark realization that fresh clothes hadn’t been on his docket. Dean breathed out, rubbing his hand over his soaked cheek before shoving his legs carelessly back into old briefs and jeans. He could fix it later. The t-shirt was his last addition, not bothering with the bloodstained overclothes cast carelessly aside. The towel was hung and Dean stared at the fogged mirror for several moments. Alcohol.

                                    He propped the door open, wandering down the hall forlornly until he heard it. D’you wanna eat something?

                                    Dean rotated so fast, it was an amazement that he stayed on his feet. He slid against the door and propped his hand to the wall as he examined the blonde in the room. She was curled up, a cup pulled close to her mouth as her eyes flicked up to him. Dean felt his lungs choke the air around him, gratitude splitting through the darkest of thoughts for just a moment. In that moment, the light in his eyes returned and faded off again, concern replacing it as he carefully stepped across the room and came to settle upon the bed, one hand lifted gently toward her as he gulped anxious words away. “Hey Angel,” he stated, not fully comprehending in that moment the word he’d spoken, nor did it register that angel wasn’t going to fly. She looked nothing like any of the angels they’d met, nor did she act like one, but for that second in time? It was the closest thing he could think to label her as. The stereotype fit who she was to him, how he felt about her being awake now, everything.

                                    Sam lifted a moment later, surely to go and stir Sawyer. Dean didn’t look at him, his broken stare focused thoroughly on Jo until the footsteps faded into the distance. “I didn’t… ********]” he muttered, clearing his throat as emotion swelled frighteningly strong and he was forced to look down. “Didn’t really know if you were gonna wake up or not. Been out a while.” It was a lame statement, but true. Every word rang true and fear clung to the syllables themselves. He was afraid of what she would say to him now, what she could taste in the air. Who she would be.
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