Fic: Honey and the Hive Queen (2/2)
During the next few weeks, Madison’s life after death settles into a bizarre kind of routine. She spends most of her time in front of Ash’s computer, while he sits next to her and sketches complicated, code-laced diagrams on the back of napkins. While Madison and the other new recruits eat, he takes his laptop back and types up the code he’d been writing out by hand.
Corbett interviews Jimmy, Victor, and Pamela for some reason, taking obscenely neat notes in his little notebook. Five days after their arrival, he gets around to Madison.
“So, what did it feel like when you transformed?’
“It hurt, a lot, and I don’t remember much after that.” It’s an enormous lie. Madison remembers the transformation perfectly, and it was painful, yes, but it was also exhilarating. Madison remembers the sense of power thrumming through her body, remembers the new strength in her muscles, the sharpening of her vision and her sense of smell. Most of all, Madison remembers feeling - for the first time - absolutely free. Like no one - not her parents, not her boss, not her boyfriend - can tell her what to do. “Sorry I can’t be more help.”
“No, that’s okay,” Corbett reassures her. “Don’t feel like you need to force anything for me. I want this book to be a really honest account of our experiences.”
“Corbett,” Madison asks, “why are you even writing this? It’s not like you’ll be able to publish it.”
Corbett looks down at his notes. “I know,” he says, “but there’s someone I want to show it to. And he’s still alive, thank goodness, but in sixty years when he dies in his sleep of old age, he’ll come up here. And maybe by then we’ll have more of the heavens connected, and we’ll find him and bring him here.” Corbett speaks faster than Madison’s ever heard him speak before, and that’s saying something. He’s also blushing fiercely.
“He sounds like a very special friend,” Madison says.
“Yeah. He was my mentor and my boss and North America’s best ghost hunter. I want to collect as much information as I can; I think he’ll like to read it.”
“I’m sure he will,” Madison agrees.
“So can I ask you more questions now?”
“Oh yeah, of course.” Madison steels herself for more lies, especially guilty now that she’s aware of how much the project means to him. Corbett doesn’t get to ask the next question, though, because he’s interrupted by an urgent beeping from the laptop.
Madison is across the room before Ash, typing rapidly. “Incoming!” she screams. She clicks on the angel speech waves, watching the words “attack” “rebels” and - bizarrely - “Winchester” dance across the screen in red text.
“How many?’ Victor demands, already using a bottle opener to slice open his palm.
Madison counts rapidly, though there are so many speech bubbles moving rapidly across the screen she can’t be sure she isn’t counting any particular angel more than once. “Looks like five or six, maybe seven!”
“Shit,” Jo exclaims, stumbling down the stairs with her blouse only half-buttoned. “Fuck!”
Jimmy follows close behind her, pale and twitchy. He drops the bottle opener when Victor throws it to him, and has to stoop to retrieve it so he can slice his hand open. Jo takes it from him, and by the time her hand is bleeding, Victor has already drawn a sigil on the front door, and Pamela has hurried down the stairs.
Madison sits behind the computer and is soon joined by Corbett, who stays out of the way, but dutifully takes notes from the sidelines. The screen is a blur of white squiggles, as all the angels talk at once, both the ones involved in the battle, and the ones who aren’t. The loudest speech seems to come from one voice - the commander, Madison assumes - who continuously repeats the words meaning “attack” “rebels” “collapse” and “Winchester.” Every time his or her - its?- little speech wave makes a move, many other, smaller waves follow, as if in agreement.
“I think they’re getting closer,” Madison warns, as the waves increase in intensity. The others are already scattered about the room, drawing bright red sigils on the doors and walls. Their eyes are narrowed in concentration; it’s difficult to find the balance between speed and accuracy necessary for the perfect sigil.
The walls shake, and Madison takes her eyes from the screen. They’ve arrived, and there’s not much more Madison can do. The ground starts to shudder too, and Madison wonders if the angels can attack them from below, and if they’ve invaded a neighbouring cell - disrupted someone else’s heaven - in order to launch this attack.
A red word - “up” - appears over the commander’s speech wave. Ash has taught her that this is the particular sound which always precedes an attack from above, on the second floor. The change has come much sooner than she’d thought, much earlier than she’s prepared for.
“Upstairs!” Madison screams, straining her voice to be heard over the shuddering of the floorboards and the clanking of vibrating shot glasses. “They’re moving upstairs!”
But it’s too late.
There’s a loud crash from upstairs - the chest of drawers Jo left standing in front of their bedroom’s window falling over - and then a sound like standing in a wind tunnel, the roaring of air through a closed space.
“Hold on to something!” Ash yells, snatching the computer from under Madison’s wrists. He slams it closed and shoves it against her chest. “And hold on to this.”
Madison is all too happy to obey. She falls to her knees behind the bar, as the sound grows louder and louder and drowns out any other instructions she might be given. She sweeps a row of empty beer glasses off the shelf under the bar, and squeezes herself inside, lying flat against the cold wood and inhaling the smell of old pine and spilt beer.
It seems to take forever for the noise to stop. Madison’s nose starts to itch and her muscles cramp. She loses feeling in the arm wrapped tightly around the laptop. The beer glasses Madison had knocked free slide across the floor as the entire room tips. Several of them shatter where they strike the far wall. The wind whips the shards of glass into the air, and Madison ducks her head to shield her eyes.
Finally, the noise dies down to a low whistle, then fades completely. Madison lifts her head cautiously, blinking furiously because she has sawdust in her eyes. It hurts to move, but she climbs out from under the bar legs first, and struggles to her feet, laptop still cradled against her chest.
The only other person in the room is Corbett, who has wrapped his arms tightly around one of the wooden beams supporting the Roadhouse’s roof, and is still holding on for dear life. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and he’s bleeding from a small cut on his cheek.
“Corbett,” Madison says. He doesn’t seem to hear her. “Corbett, where’s everyone else?”
Corbett opens his eyes slowly, then blinks at Madison as if he doesn’t recognize her for a few moments. “What?” he asks. “Is it over?”
“I think so,” Madison says, flipping open the (thankfully unharmed) laptop and confirming that the angels’ speech has diminished to the usual background levels. “Do you know where everybody else is?”
“They told me to grab on to something before they all ran upstairs,” Corbett says. “Do you think they’re okay?”
Madison shrugs her shoulders. She knows Jo is strong, but she can’t imagine her slight frame surviving such high winds. Madison winces at the thought of Jo’s body smashing against walls and furniture.
She snaps out of her own mind at the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Victor enters first, followed closely by Jimmy, Pamela and yes, Jo. Madison’s body is still in shock, but she bursts out laughing anyway.
“What’s so funny?” Jo says, irritated. She picks up a bar rag from where it’s blown onto the floor and starts to tear it into strips, tying one roughly around her bleeding palm.
Madison snorts. “Your hair.” All four of them have windswept hair, layered in pale sawdust and bits of wood. They look absolutely ridiculous, and Madison laughs so hard her stomach hurts. At first Pamela, Victor and even Jimmy chuckle with her, but they stop after a few moments. Madison, though, can’t stop, even as she gasps for breath. She keeps laughing even as everyone else falls silent, staring at her, wide-eyed.
“Hey,” Jo says, putting her hand on Madison’s shoulder. “Hey. Let’s go upstairs.”
Madison follows Jo up the staircase and into their bedroom, stepping over the debris littering the floor. The moment the door closes behind them, her laughter turns to sobs.
Jo takes Madison’s hand and pulls her down to sit on the edge of the bed. Jo sits down next to her and wraps her thin, strong arms around Madison shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jo repeats. “Honey, it’s okay.”
Madison swallows the rest of her sobs, struggling to ignore the ache in her chest and the back of her throat. “I’m sorry,” she says, wiping ineffectually at where her tears have soaked into Jo’s blouse. “This whole thing is just ridiculous. I’ve already died once; I can’t do it again.” And, Madison adds mentally, I can’t watch you die.
Jo inhales sharply, and Madison wipes away her tears to see her. Jo chews absentmindedly on one of her perfect pink lips, and the sight of her mouth makes Madison blush. She ducks her head onto Jo’s shoulder again, to hide her face. They’d just barely held off an angelic assault, and for some reason Madison can’t stop focusing on Jo’s mouth.
“You wouldn’t die,” Jo says softly. “They can’t kill you again.”
“What? So why are we fighting, then?”
“Because they can make you forget,” Jo says. “Because if you go back to your heaven alone, you’ll forget.”
“I don’t understand,” Madison admits. “I really don’t understand any of this place.”
“It’s okay,” Jo says. “Neither did we at first, which is how we screwed up.” She settles back onto the bed, pulling Madison down with her and rubbing slow, soothing circles on Madison’s back. “Ash found Pamela first, and me shortly after. He brought us back here because…well, my heaven is kind of weird and a rock concert isn’t conducive to conversation. We just kind of, hung out for awhile. Ash explained the program to me and I started to think about finding more people…about finding my mom.”
Madison nods against Jo’s shoulder, and makes what she hopes is a sympathetic noise.
“And then Ash spilled beer on his shirt, and we didn’t exactly have a way to wash it here. So Pamela said she would go grab him a new shirt, from her heaven because people run around half-naked there. Ash programmed the door, she stepped through…and didn’t come back.”
“What? She’s right downstairs.”
“Yes and no,” Jo says. “Ash tried to find her, but the connection we had was broken. She had been gone too long, and her cell - on the screen - had reset, or moved away or something. It took us weeks to find her again. When I went in, she was rocking out to some metal band. Exactly where Ash had found her the first time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you go back alone, you forget. You get sucked back into your memory loop and suddenly you’re happy and brainwashed again. Unless there’s someone with you to remind you of what you’ve learned, it’s like nothing ever happened. Pamela thinks she got here weeks after me. She has no memory of the first time at all.”
“So when the angels break open the doors, they’re trying to suck us back into our own heavens?”
“Back to our rightful places,” Jo confirms. “We’re really lucky to have found Pamela again. We can’t guarantee we’d be able to track down anyone else again. And what if we lost Ash?”
“That’s terrible,” Madison agrees, though she’s more frightened by what would happen if they lost Jo.
“But we’re not gonna let them get to us,” Jo insists. “We held them off for this long on our own, and now we’ve got you at the computer, Jimmy on the sigils and Corbett…keeping records. You don’t need to be scared,” she says, wiping Madison’s sawdust and tear-streaked face with the sleeve of her blouse. “I won’t let them take you. And even if they did, I would find you again.”
***
Madison has no idea what to expect as she walks through the old wooden door. She figured Jo’s heaven would be something suitably badass: a bar fight, maybe, or a car chase or a rodeo. What she doesn’t expect is a nearly-deserted beach, bathed in warm sunlight.
Madison stumbles as she steps through the door, sinking into the sand. Jo’s steps are more confident, presumably because she’d known what was coming. Confidence is something Madison expects from Jo - the pink floral one-piece bathing suit is not.
Madison snorts and Jo smiles a tiny smile. “Hey, I’m six years old. Cut me a break.”
She walks through the sand without waiting for Madison to catch up, and Madison pulls off her shoes. She leaves them where their footsteps disappear, in the spot where Jo will be able to summon the door back when they’re ready to go back to headquarters.
Madison can’t tell which beach they’re standing on, or which ocean is lapping at the shore. The scene before her is the generic beach of a children’s picture book - all yellow sand and impossibly blue waves topped with white foam. There is a single couple on the beach, sitting on a large striped blanket under a red and white umbrella. Jo starts in their direction and Madison follows, trying not to stare at Jo’s bare legs.
The family looks as much out of picture book as the rest of the beach. The sandy-haired man busily digs a hole with a ridiculously small plastic shovel while the woman rubs sunscreen onto her forearms.
“Who are these -“ Madison asks, but she stops short at the closed, reverent look on Jo’s face. Somehow it seems like speaking might spoil the moment.
“Joanna Beth Harvelle,” the mother says sternly as Jo approaches, though there’s laughter underneath, “Come here before you get all red.”
Jo goes to her immediately, sitting on the beach towel. The woman - Ellen, Madison realizes - squeezes a line of white sunscreen onto Jo’s back, holding Jo’s pigtails out of the way. Madison holds her tongue and her breath, afraid to break the moment. After several minutes, and when Jo is thoroughly sunscreened, she looks up and makes eye contact with Madison.
“Mama,” Jo says, “can I go play?”
“Yes, but be careful.”
“Don’t you wander too far,” the man - Jo’s father - adds, and Jo nods.
Jo walks towards the water, and Madison follows. “They’re my parents,” she answers belatedly, confirming what Madison had already figured out. “They think I’m six. This is the last real family vacation we ever took together. Soon after this my Dad met Bobby Singer and they got to talking about ghosts.” Madison has never heard Jo sound so bitter, even when she talks about angels or how Sam and Dean Winchester shouldn’t have shot her.
“I’m sorry,” Madison says. She reaches for Jo’s hand on instinct and is surprised by how easily Jo lets her take it.
“It’s alright,” Jo answers, though her voice indicates just the opposite. “I mean, he saved a lot of people. My mom too. And me, for a little while. It’s a crap job, but somebody’s gotta do it. Why shouldn’t it have been us?” She squints into the distance at her parents as she speaks.
“But you were happiest like this.” Madison doesn’t mean for it to come out so much like a question.
“I guess so.” Jo answers. She glanced down at her parents again, now removing sandwiches and a bowl of sliced watermelon from a nearby cooler. “I wonder what their heavens are like. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t be in them at all, that their heavens will be fighting monsters and saving people and being heroes, and that they’d laugh at my subconscious for choosing a goddamn beach.”
Madison tugs at Jo’s arm, leading her farther down the beach. They travel at a diagonal so that shortly they are walking along the shoreline, letting the waves lap at their feet. The cold of the water contrasts with the warm sand, and it makes Madison shiver. Jo reaches over and rubs her back, seemingly without realizing she’s doing it, as if to warm Madison up. And though the gesture is probably ineffectual, somehow it makes Madison feel warmer anyway.
“I think,” Madison says, clearing her throat, “that you are most definitely in your parents’ heaven.” She pushes down her guilt, all too aware that her own heaven involves hunting things, just in the opposite of the heroic direction Jo imagines for her parents.
“You didn’t even know them,” Jo laughs, “how could you possibly know that?”
“But I know you,” Madison answers without hesitation. “How could anyone know you and not remember you as the best part of their life.”
It’s a cheap line, ridiculously cheesy, and they both know it, but Jo smiles anyway, and squeezes Madison’s hand. Jo squints off into the distance, like she’s looking for something, but all Madison can see is more beach, miles of it stretching off into the distance. She watches Jo more than she watches where they’re going, which is probably why she steps on the seashell.
“Ow,” Madison gasps, more startled than injured. She lifts her foot quickly, but not soon enough. The shell is crushed beneath her foot, and she can feel at least one piece embedded in her skin. Leaning on Jo perhaps more than is strictly necessary, she hobbles a few feet away from the water, then sits cross-legged in the sand, pulling her injured foot toward her face for inspection.
Jo takes a seat beside her, leaning over to look at Madison’s foot. He shadow completely ruins Madison’s light, but she doesn’t complain. Jo is so close Madison can smell the fresh, practical scent of the shampoo she must’ve used before she’d died. She isn’t sure if the rapid pulse she feels when Jo reaches out to gingerly hold her foot is her own or Jo’s travelling through her fingertips.
Madison’s foot is bleeding, though not a lot. Jo reaches forward and - so delicately it almost tickles - pulls a piece of shell from the flesh. It’s shiny and as thin as a sheet of paper, perfectly white where clean and stained pink on one side with Madison’s blood.
“It’s funny,” Madison says, desperate to break the heavy, intimate silence that had grown up between them, “how something that looks so fragile can be so strong.” She looks down at Jo - all blond hair and pale skin and perfect pink lips, like a fairy tale princess who would kick her would-be prince’s ass and then slay the dragon herself. Jo is beautiful and unexpectedly strong, and Madison can only hope she won’t be crushed underfoot.
“There,” Jo announces, but she doesn’t straighten up immediately. Instead she bends lower, pressing a barely-there kiss against the sandy sole of Madison’s injured foot. “All better.”
Then Jo releases Madison’s foot. She turns her face away and Madison notices a blush on her cheeks and thinks in disbelief I did that, that’s for me. The realization is a rush more powerful than the werewolf transformation.
“I don’t think I can walk just yet,” Madison lies. “Maybe we should sit for awhile.”
Jo still won’t meet Madison’s eyes. “If you think so,” she answers quietly, still gazing off into the distance. “Enjoy the view or whatever.”
“Yeah,” Madison answers, reaching over to cup Jo’s chin and turn her face gently towards her. She licks her lips, hesitating only a moment before pressing her lips to Jo’s, exhaling in relief even as she does so.
Jo’s mouth opens under Madison’s, warm and wet and soft. Madison leans forward eagerly, pushing further to taste more, and finds that Jo is leaning forward too, meeting her halfway. Jo reaches for Madison’s waist but misses, overbalancing them both so they tip forward into the sand, still kissing. They stay that way for a long time, letting the waves lap at their feet.
***
“Where the fuck have you been?” Victor snaps, when they return, sandy and a little out of breath after a footrace back to the door.
“My heaven,” Jo answers seriously, biting back a laugh Madison hopes only she notices. “Sorry, we lost track of time.”
Victor scowls. “What, you thought we needed some sand or something? Ash has been looking for you. He says it’s urgent.”
The laughter is gone from Jo’s face in a moment, replaced by a business-like mask Madison knows is there to cover up another emotion - hope. The program’s been running for weeks, and a new batch of recruits is due any day now. Jo rushes up the stairs with Madison at her heels, and bursts into Ash’s room. “Is it her?” she demands.
Ash looks up from his laptop, guiltily taking his cowboy boots off the bedspread. “No,” he says immediately. “I’m sorry. We’ve only got one on this run - a Jessica Moore.”
The name doesn’t mean anything to Madison, but Jo nods in recognition. “Good work,” she tells Ash flatly, unable to conceal the disappointment in her voice. “I’ll go get her.”
***
Jessica is very blond and very pretty and apparently Sam Winchester’s ex-girlfriend. She clings to Jo’s arm as they pass through the doorway into headquarters, and Madison’s stomach lurches. Jo is just as calm and careful with Jessica as she had been with Madison, steering her firmly towards a bar stool when it looks like her knees are about to go weak. Her eyes glaze over during introductions, and no one asks her to explain her connection to the supernatural. It is agreed that she will share Pamela’s bedroom, and Madison is relieved that she and Jo will still have a room to themselves. It still bothers her, though, how Jo stands so close and puts her hand on Jess’ knee as they speak in low, soft voices.
“Jess seems very sweet,” Madison says that night, as they lie together in bed.
“Too sweet,” Jo says. “She’s really freaking out. She knows Sam alright but he didn’t tell her shit, and her connection to the supernatural is basically her death. I’m not sure she can handle it.”
Madison brightens. “Really?”
Jo’s glance is coy. “Yes, really. Why? Were you feeling threatened?”
“No!” Madison says, so quickly she knows it must be suspicious. “I’m just surprised you didn’t say the same thing about me.”
Jo’s eyes twinkle in the dark. “Jess is a nice girl, but she’s a little soft for my taste. There’s something harder in you, something darker. We may make a hunter out of you yet.”
Madison is torn between pride and guilt. Could the something darker Jo senses be the monster within her, the part of her that considers turning into a werewolf one of her finest memories?
“Anyway,” Jo continues, “I’m not really into blondes.” She leans forward, and Madison forgets her worries in the scent of Jo’s hair.
“Oh,” she says. “I think I might be.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Madison breathes against Jo’s mouth.
Jo kisses her back, more urgently than had on the beach. There heat between them is more fire than sun-warmed laziness. Jo’s small hands move with purpose, tracing tantalizing lines up Madison’s back, underneath the baggy concert tee. Madison feels goosebumps forming under her touch.
Madison gasps when Jo slides her hands from Madison’s back to her stomach. “Can I?” she says, and Madison nods, lifting her arms so Jo can pull the shirt over her head. As she does so, Jo’s fingers graze one of Madison’s nipples through her lace bra, and she moans. Smiling that wicked smile, Jo touches her again, and this time it’s no accident.
“Yes,” Madison says decisively, as she reaches forward to tug off Jo’s shirt. “I’m definitely into blondes.”
***
They mark the days in a notepad file on Ash’s computer, because being in heaven seems to confuse the calendar function, which keeps resetting them to May 13, 2010 for some reason. It takes nine days for the program to work out another cell they can access. Madison’s manning the computer when it beeps, and when she reads the name she can’t help but yell. Jimmy, Pamela, Lily and Corbett, engrossed in a game of poker, look up in concern.
“I think everything’s okay,” Madison reassures them, wondering when it had become okay for her to speak like a leader, and why the others accepted her testimony so readily. “Can someone run upstairs and get Jo?”
***
“It’s my mom,” Jo declares when she comes into their bedroom late that night. “Ash is pretty sure. I made him check the data twelve times.” Jo’s voice is jubilant and, for the first time since Madison had met her, stress free. Sitting on the bed to take off her shoes, Jo is practically vibrating with excitement.
Jo crawls under the covers, though Madison knows she won’t be falling asleep anytime soon. “It’s my mom, Maddy. She’s so brilliant. I know we’ll be able to get rid of those fuckers, once I have her to work with.”
Madison’s stomach sinks. She becomes suddenly - painfully - aware that once Ellen Harvelle is reunited with her daughter Jo won’t need her anymore. Hell, she’ll probably want to share the bedroom with her mom, heavy petting aside.
“What’s wrong?” Jo asks, and Madison realizes she’s fallen uncharacteristically silent.
“Nothing,” she says hurriedly, “I’m just worried about how your mom will feel about me.”
“Oh,” Jo says thoughtfully. “I have no idea. The issue’s never really come up.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Jo laughs. “My mom is pretty terrifying, but I think she’ll like you.”
“I’m very likable,” Madison agrees, because she doesn’t know how to explain that she isn’t worried about Ellen approving of her nearly as much as she’s worried about Ellen replacing her.
***
First thing the next morning, Madison programs the door to Ellen’s heaven. Jo stands by the front door, practically shaking with excitement. She wears her blouse instead of a baggy concert t-shirt, and she’s done her hair in a French braid for the occasion.
“Okay,” Madison says, hitting the final keys with no outward sign of the reluctance she feels, “go for it.”
As Jo draws a sigil on the wooden door, it starts shaking.
“No,” Madison says, switching windows. They angels are definitely talking, and the commander is barking orders. “Fuck. Incoming!”
Corbett dives for cover behind the bar, taking Jess with him. The sound of shattering glass fills the air as they sweep glasses out of the shelves to make hiding spots for themselves.
“Heads up!” Jimmy calls, tossing a corkscrew across the room to Victor. There is already blood dripping from his palm.
Over the rising noise of break glass and the rattling of doors, windows and floorboards, Madison finds it difficult to hear Ash.
“Did you enter the code?’
“What?”
“Did you enter the code? Did you program the location already?”
“Yes,” Madison answers, over the wind rushing in through a shattered window. Then she realizes what that means, and turns to Jo in time to see realization dawn on her face.
“You have to go!” Ash yells. “If you don’t, we’ll have to find her again!”
Madison knows how long that could take, or that they might never find Ellen’s cell again, after they’ve all rearranged themselves. “Go!” she screams to Jo, “You’re good!”
Jo finishes drawing the sigil, bright red against the dark wood. Just as she connects the last two points, the side door bursts violently open, splintered wooden doors flying off of their hinges. Madison ducks behind the bar just as the suction starts, sucking broken glass and slivers of wood into the white space beyond the door.
Corbett yells, the tail end of his scream trailing off, drowned out by the sound. Madison turns to face him just in time to see Jess slide out from behind the bar as the room tilted sharply towards the open side door. Jess doesn’t even scream as she slips out the door, her eyes wide with shock. She simply disappears into the white, presumably reappearing in her own heaven, alone, where she’ll forget about them entirely.
Madison scrambles to open the computer and braces herself against the side of the bar at the same time. The timer on the screen says Jo has a full two minutes before the unused connection expires.
“Go!” she screams, just as the Roadhouse tilts further, and she loses her grip on the bar.
Unlike Jess, Madison screams bloody murder as she hurtles down the smooth floor, scrambling desperately to dig her fingernails into the floorboards. Corbett tries to grab her arm as she falls, but he misses and she can see the grief on his face as she slides past him.
There are no handholds once Madison clears the bar. The bar stools and tables have already been sucked out into the void. As Madison slides out the open door she catches sight of Jo, crouched low to the ground, arms wrapped around one of the roof supporting columns. Her eyes are wide with fear and indecision, her palm still bleeding from the - thank god, intact - sigil drawn on the closed front door just above her head.
“Go!” Madison screams, legs dangling over nothingness. “Go now!” She clutches the edge of the floor as long as she can, but her fingers ache and are slippery with sweat. Madison falls.
***
Madison is in the alley behind her San Francisco apartment building. It is dark and a little bit cold - Madison has forgotten her coat somewhere. She is looking for someone. That’s right, she is looking for Kurt. She has had enough of Kurt, she deserves better than Kurt, she wants to hurt Kurt like he’s hurt her. There is a pain in Madison’s jaw and in her fingernails. She crouches, ready to transform, ready to fight.
Then something falls on her head.
“Ow,” Madison groans.
“Fuck,” Jo mutters, rolling off of Madison. “Why are you so damn bony?”
“Jo,” Madison mutters, head foggy. “Jo! What are you doing here?”
Panting, Jo reaches over and grabs Madison’s hand with her bloody palm. “I jumped in, just as you let go. I was worried I’d end up in my heaven, but I guess I was close enough behind you.”
“But,” Madison says, “what about your mom? Oh my god, we lost your mom!” Madison scrambles to her feet, as if there was anything she could do about the long-expired connection now. Jo stands up too, but merely wraps her arms around Madison’s shoulders, pulling her into a close hug and kissing the side of her neck.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Jo says. “I’m so glad you didn’t forget about me.”
“But, your mom!”
“We’ll find my mom again, and I’ll go get her. But I’m not sure I could duplicate,” Jo gestures helplessly between them, “this, if I had to re-find you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Madison says, wracked with guilt. She’s sure that if Jo had only taken a moment longer to think she would have chosen Ellen instead.
“Don’t be. I’m not.” Jo releases Madison from the hug and looks around her for the first time. “This is a cheerful heaven you’ve got here.”
Madison’s stomach sinks. “Oh, yeah. I don’t really get it.”
Jo raises an eyebrow. “It’s your favourite memory ever, and you don’t recognize it?”
“No,” Madison says, resisting the urge to turn tail and run, “I recognize it alright. I just don’t know why it’s my heaven.”
“Why’s that?”
Madison opens her mouth to answer, but before she can speak she catches a whiff of stale Doritos on the air. Involuntarily, she takes a few running steps forward, toward the smell, toward her prey.
“Madison!” Jo’s voice sounds distant, her words getting lost somewhere between them, swept away in the chase already boiling in Madison’s blood. She feels the sharp pain in her fingernail beds and her jaw that means the transformation is beginning. Madison feels her legs grow longer and stronger, and Kurt’s scent gets more pungent as her senses sharpen. Madison turns down a side alley, following the trail of her prey.
“What the fuck?” Madison can barely hear Jo now - the wolf has almost taken over, narrowing her focus to Kurt and only Kurt, anticipating ripping into his heart with her fangs. “Madison, wait - Jesus!”
The part of Madison’s brain that’s still human - still her - recognizes that even in the dark Jo must realize what she’s turning into. And she knows, in that moment, that she’s lost her. The canine part of her brain couldn’t care less, and it overrules the last bit of her humanity. Madison feels her fangs break through the soft skin of her gums, and she drops to all fours.
Then she feels a sharp pain in the side of her head. “Ow,” she half-growls, half-screams. She straightens and touches the side of her face. Her fingers come away wet with bright red blood.
“Maddy?” Jo stands in the mouth of the dark alley, lit from behind by moonlight. She grips a large chunk of cement in one hand. A matching projectile lies by Madison’s feet, stained with her blood. “Madison, what is this?”
Madison swallows hard. The throbbing in her head clears her mind, and the claws and fangs recede. “It’s my heaven,” Madison says, carefully not to bite her own tongue. “Apparently.”
Jo steps forward hesitantly, though she doesn’t put down her improvised weapon. “This is your best memory?”
Madison nods, blinking back sudden tears not of sadness, but of frustration. “And it gets worse. I kill my ex-boyfriend.” Jo’s eyes go wide. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” Madison hurries on. “I don’t know why this is my heaven. I guess I really am a monster.”
“What does it feel like?” Jo asks.
“What?”
“What does it feel like when you transform?”
Madison closes her eyes, remembering. “I feel stronger,” she says, “and braver. Like I’m not scared of anything anymore. Like instead of people hurting me, I can hurt them for once.” Jo inhales sharply. “I sound like a terrible person, don’t I?”
“No,” Jo says, “You sound like a hunter.”
Madison wipes at the blood on her face self-consciously. “I spent almost my whole life making other people happy, even people who made me miserable or who hurt me,” Madison explains. “Like Kurt. And my boss. And I guess my best memory is finally being strong and free, all by myself.”
Jo steps up to Madison, and sets down the rock in her hand. She leans forward and very gently wipes the blood off Madison’s face with the sleeve of her blouse. “I’m sorry I had to throw a rock at you,” she apologizes.
“You don’t hate me?” Madison asks. “I would totally understand if you threw another rock.”
“I’m not Sam Winchester,” Jo says. “I’m not giving up on you. Besides, I’d be lying if I said killing assholes didn’t turn me on a little bit, too.”
Instinctively, Madison leans forward and kisses Jo firmly on the mouth. The taste of Jo’s lips makes her feel stronger and braver and more sure of herself than the scent of blood ever could.
“Come on,” she says to Jo as she breaks the kiss. “Let’s go home.”
***
They’re still sweeping up broken glass when the shaking starts again.
“No fucking way,” Pamela says, tiredly unwrapping the bandage from her palm, which hasn’t even stopped bleeding yet. “Places everyone!”
“I’ll head upstairs,” Henriksen calls, already in motion.
Then the rumbling stops, and the front door opens. Madison braces herself against one of the columns, gripping Jo’s hand tightly, but there’s no suction.
Instead, a man wearing a trenchcoat walks into the Roadhouse.
“Oh fuck no,” Jimmy groans, peeking above the edge of the bar, and Madison realizes he and the man could be twins.
“Hello,” the man says, as two other men stumble into the room behind him. When they straighten, Madison recognizes Sam and Dean Winchester. They both have longer hair and dark circles under their eyes, and they glare daggers at the Jimmy look-alike. “Did you just fucking kill us?” Dean snaps.
The man ignores him. “My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Jimmy snaps, coming out from behind the bar. “And you can get the fuck out.”
Castiel winces. “Hello Jimmy. I’m sorry we meet again under these circumstances.”
“I’m sorry we ever met at all.” The angel’s mouth twitches, like he finds Jimmy’s declaration mildly upsetting, but not so bad that he’s willing to actually do anything about it.
Dean takes a step further into the room, resting one hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Everyone calm down,” he orders, with the authority of any good hunter spewing bullshit. “We’re here to sort things out.”
“Oh yeah, Winchester?” Jo says, letting go of Madison’s hand. “Then you’ll be wanting to talk to me.”
Dean visibly starts when he sees her. “Jo,” he says, his voice gone soft. It makes Madison want to laugh.
“Dean,” she counters, her voice low, measured and not at all gentle. “You still working for the angels?”
Sam scoffs. “Which ones?” he asks. Then he squints over Jo’s shoulder. “Madison?” he says, voice disbelieving.
"Sam,” she answers. He’s still beautiful, but he looks far older than he should.
“Madison? Who’s Madi- oh, right,” Dean says. It hurts, just a little.
“We should’ve known it was you guys,” Sam says, glancing from Madison to Jo to Ash, Pamela and Henriksen coming back downstairs.
“You thought someone else could program like me?” Ash asks, cracking open a beer. “Of course it was us.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt this reunion,” Castiel says, irritably, “but we’re here to tell you to stop.”
“What?” Madison says, as Ash spits beer across the room. “We thought you were here to help us. You’re supposed to be the good guys!”
Dean winces, and Sam seems unable to meet her eyes.
“You are disrupting the natural balance of the universe,” Castiel continues. “You have been granted the eternal happiness you earned in your individual heavens. You need to return there.”
“Over your dead body, angel,” Pamela snaps. “You took my eyes, but you’re not taking this.”
“And I’m done taking orders from you,” Jimmy adds.
“What you are doing risks destabilizing the entire system,” Castiel insists. “It’s dangerous.”
“That’s what they always say when the hackers get a step ahead,” Ash says. “You want to stop me then improve your security. Until then, I’m gonna keep exploiting your loopholes, asshole.”
“Oh my god,” Jo says, “it’s been you commanding the angels the entire time. You’re the one we’ve been fighting. Screw you. Screw all three of you, if you’re working together.”
Over the din of the screaming that breaks out when Sam and Dean try to defend themselves, Madison hears an insistent “pssst!” from behind her. She turns to see Corbett crouched behind a nearby table, holding out a battered corkscrew. Madison grabs it from his outstretched hand and squeezes until she feels metal digging brutally into her palm, then drops the corkscrew. This time, Corbett makes the catch and it lands noiselessly in his waiting hand.
“I don’t believe you two,” Jo says, her voice terrifyingly calm. “After all we’ve been through together, you’re siding with him? With angels over human beings? What kind of hunters are you?”
“Now listen,” Dean says, but Madison knows there’s not much hope of Jo doing that. Not with the fire in her eyes now.
“No, you listen, Dean Winchester. You two are directly or indirectly responsible for the deaths of every single person in this room -”
“We were trying to help!” Sam interrupts. He looks desperately in Madison’s direction, and she keeps her arm behind her, drawing blind on the column behind her back. “You shot me through the heart,” she says.
“I didn’t have a choice. Madison, I loved you -”
Jo laughs sharply. ‘Oh please, save it. You gave up on her like you’ve never given up on each other. And that’s fine. Family comes first, I get that. But don’t go around saying you love people you don’t. If you really love someone they become family.”
Madison wonders, as she finishes up her work, if Jo’s choice of Madison over her own mother was really that impulsive after all.
“You can’t say that,” Dean says. “You know you’re family, Jo.”
“Prove it.” Jo takes a few slow steps across the room, so that she and Dean stand barely a foot apart. “Choose a side. Put family first.”
Dean hesitates, and his eyes slide to his left and meet briefly with the angel’s.
“This is ridiculous,” Castiel says, and steps quickly towards Jo, two fingers outstretched.
“Stop!” Madison screams, stepping away from the column. “Or I’ll banish you!” The sigil she’s painted on the column isn’t exactly neat, but it’s serviceable. Corbett gives a whoop from under the table.
Castiel stops, but only briefly. “If you banish me I will return. Jo Harvelle will not, not the way she is now. Your loss is greater than mine.” He takes another step towards Jo.
“But will you leave them here?” Madison asks, trying to keep her voice as steely cool as Jo’s and nodding at Sam and Dean with her chin. “If I banish you, are you sure you’ll be able to get them back? There are an awful lot of places we could hide two people up here. And who knows what they’ll forget if they go back to their heaven and reset.”
That gets through to him. Castiel frowns and his eyes twitch nervously to Dean. Dean looks steadfastly away.
“Do you have family, Castiel?” Madison asks, softening her voice.
Castiel cocks his head, but the look he gives Dean is almost tender. Dean’s cheeks go the slightest bit pink.
“Ew,” Jimmy says.
Castiel ignores him. “I will not leave them here,” he says. “If that is the answer you are looking for.”
“Good,” Jo says, “so maybe we’re starting to understand one another.” She steps backwards and holds Madison’s un-bloodied hand. “You don’t want to lose the people you care about, and we don’t want to lose the people we care about.”
Seeing Sam’s eyes nearly pop out of his head is extremely gratifying, Madison has to admit.
Castiel is nonplussed. “Fine,” he says with some reluctance. “If you allow me to leave with the Winchesters in tow, I promise to cease attacks on your cell, provided you halt your attempts to expand. The structure seems stable at the moment, but any further shifting increases the risk of collapse.”
Madison is about to refuse the offer when Jo jumps in. “Agreed,” she says. “You keep your little family and we’ll keep ours.”
Dean Winchester looks profoundly relieved. “Listen Jo, I’m so sorry that we lost you.”
“No biggie,” Jo says with her best shit-eating grin. “I like it better up here anyway.”
“Can we leave now?’ Castiel says, eyes fixed on the spot where Madison’s hand still hovers above the banishing sigil. He shamelessly reaches out and takes Dean’s hand. Dean stares about defiantly, as if daring someone to say anything about it.
Castiel puts his other hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You may banish us now,” he says cordially.
“Listen, Madison -” Sam begins.
“Fuck you,” she answers, as she slams her bloody palm down onto the sigil. There is a flash of white light, and when Madison’s vision clears all three figures are gone and the room is eerily quiet.
“That was totally badass,” Corbett announces to the world at large, pulling a notebook and pencil from his back pocket.
“Not bad for a secretary,” Henriksen agrees.
“Personal assistant,” Madison corrects, before pulling Jo towards her for a kiss. The room erupts in wolf calls and whistles.
“So I guess that’s it,” Ash says as they pull apart, hugging his battered computer to his chest. “No more secret army. No more taking down heaven from the inside.”
Jo laughs. “Oh honey, you didn’t think I was telling the truth, did you? Start that baby up. We’ve got work to do.”
Illustrations by tringic
Fanmix by lookturtles
Notes and Acknowledgments
The Boys and the Boss Man (Deleted Scene)
Master Post