spn- Burn Your Life Down
Title: Burn Your Life Down
Author: Liv
darkmagic_luvr darkmagic-luvr
Characters: Joanna Winchester, Dean Winchester/Bela Talbot, Sam Winchester
Rating: T
Summery: In which Joanna realizes that the bullet in her dad’s chest was a form a foreplay and how much it sucked knowing the reason the color of her eyes were the same color blue that hers were…
Disclaimer: I don’t own the character you see before you, however any and all original characters are mine, please ask before you use them.
Warning: minor bashing of Twilight and the Jonas Brothers.
At seventeen years old Joanna had memorized a basic exorcism. She knew how to drive, seduce, pick locks, break out of a pair of handcuffs and twenty-two different ways to kill a man with a spoon. She’d been the good little soldier her dad never asked her to be and always ate her vegetables.
Figuratively, because she was still arguing that if he didn’t eat them then she didn’t have to either.
It took her seventeen years before she decided enough was enough and cornered her father, looking for answers. Up until then he’d managed to avoid the subject with hunting and stories of yore, when it was him, Sam, Uncle Bobby and Grandpa John saving people, hunting things, the family business.
And then he’d make some lame joke about how ‘one day, this will all be yours’ and Sam would laugh at him. At first she thought it was cute, how he never talked about her mother. She used to make up stories during the long drives from hunt to hunt. Like maybe her mother had been the love of Dean Winchester’s life and she’d died because something killed her. But when she was older and asked about her, both Sam and Dean would mutter curse words and tell her not to ask about her, so the girly, sissified, chick flick story line was out. Maybe Dean didn’t know who her mother was, but that couldn’t have been it because Sam had told her once that she was exactly like her mom, and it hadn’t been a compliment.
Up until her seventeenth birthday she had been patient and corporative with her father. Hell, for two years she’d dropped the subject completely and he’d seemed relieved. She’d asked Bobby (who told her that it wasn’t his business and she wouldn’t believe him if he told her anyways) and Sam (who had cringed at the tone in her voice and told her to ask her father), hell she’d come this close to asking Bela this one time when she’d blown through town thinking she’d known Dean well enough to dish out blackmail.
Now? Now she was getting tired of her dad avoiding the subject. She hated catching him looking at her like he wanted to punch a wall and go back in time to prevent himself from sleeping with whoever he did to conceive her. She hated feeling like there was a part of her missing. So she decided on her seventeenth birthday that she was going to confront her dad and not take no for an answer. He said he didn’t want to hurt her with the truth? Not knowing hurt more than whatever he could tell her. As long as she was all completely human she’d be able to deal with it.
It was gray and drizzling when she woke up, earlier than her usual five am. Sam and Dean were still asleep in the conjoining room, salt lining the windows, news paper clippings tacked up on the walls. Since she was too old to climb into bed with her dad she opted to going outside, shrugging on a dark red rain coat, tucking her sweatpants into bright yellow rain boots (because her heart had swelled with joy at the thought of having something so bright and happy in her wardrobe) and shutting the door quietly behind her.
Joanna sat down on a patch of dry concrete and watched the rain mist over the cars in the parking lot as the minutes passed and it started raining harder. It was cold for July. Like…really cold. If it hadn’t been raining Joanna would have thought something supernatural was going down. But the weather just sucked, especially in Forks, Washington. Dean had thought it was hilarious, that they were hunting vampires in Forks. Sam had rolled his eyes, muttering something about a book and how he had only read it to see if there was any creditable lore. Joanna had no idea what they were talking about. Twilight had gone out with spray tans and the Jonas Brothers before she was three.
After what felt like hours of sitting in the cold, water soaking into the legs of her sweatpants, the door behind her swung open. She heard Dean sigh and the sound of cotton scrapping against wood as he leaned against the door frame.
“You want ice cream?” his personal happy birthday.
“It’s too early for ice cream,” said Joanna softly.
“Never stopped you before,” she could heard the smile in Dean’s voice and she had to admit that it really hadn’t, but she didn’t smile back. Dean noticed. “What’s wrong?”
“Tell me who my mother is.”
“We’ve been over this, Jo,” he didn’t sound exasperated, he sounded annoyed. Joanna frowned.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asked, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. He looked serious and tired and older than she remembered. It was probably just her question, but he hadn’t looked so drained before. That look melted her anger away and her eyes softened, she repeated her question in a softer voice. But he shook his head, pushing himself off the doorframe and nudging her side with his bare foot.
“C’mon, kid, let’s grab some ice cream and when Sam get’s up we can convince him to pay for more.”
“No.” Dean gave her a funny look when she turned her head away.
“You’re not giving up on this, are you?”
“I want to know, Dad.”
“And I can’t tell you.” she perked up.
“Why can’t you?”
“We’re not talking about this anymore, Joanna,” his tone was serious and hard and it took Joanna by surprise, because he had never used that tone with her before. Sure, she’d heard him use it, but never with her. Her jaw snapped shut, teeth clenching painfully as she tried to work the tears out of her eyes.
“Fine,” she ground out, smacking her palms against the concrete as she pushed herself up onto her feet. Dean closed his eyes, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. She moved past him and into her own room, kicking off her shoes so hard they hit the wall on the other side of the room.
The movement caused the tears in her eyes to spill down her cheeks and as Joanna wiped them angrily away with the sleeve of her shirt she heard what sounded like Sam’s voice filter in though the door.
“Joanna? You okay?”
“Go away, Sam!” shouted Joanna, angry that her voice held proof of her tears, angry at her dad, angry at him because he knew who her mother was too.
What a great start to her birthday.
.
Sam managed to coax Joanna out of her room with the promise of a new hand gun for her birthday. He knew she was needing one ever since a run in with that kelpie a few weeks back. The stupid thing had chucked it into some sort of sludge after she had gotten too close. Bastard. Both Sam and the kelpie…
Sam made some excuse about dinner when he dropped her off at the hotel. She had a feeling that he didn’t want to be in a five mile radius when Joanna and Dean fell back into their argument, but she agreed. No need for other casualties.
But Sam kept looking warily at the car in front of their hotel room. Joanna didn’t think it was all that big a deal, the entire parking lot was practically full. She ignored Sam’s warning of being careful, waving off his concern and pulling the hood of her jacket over her head to stop the drizzle of rain from turning her hair all frizzy.
She didn’t feel like arguing with her dad though, she just felt like curling up next to him and watching some B horror movie. Maybe Sam could pick up Twilight so she could figure out what all Dean’s jokes where about.
However, all coherent thought was wiped from her brain the moment she opened Sam and Dean’s hotel door and stopped so suddenly she nearly tripped. Maybe a foot away from her were Bela and Dean, Dean pressing Bela against the wall, his hand under her shirt and his tongue down her throat, but Bela had unzipped his pants and her hand was somewhere inside, doing god knows what to elicit those noses out of the back of his throat.
Bela. Dean. Making out. Against a wall.
Joanna’s eyes were burning.
She spun away, blinking her eyes quickly, thinking maybe if she did it quick enough she’d have a seizure and hit her head on something and get amnesia and never, ever have to be reminded of that again.
Her self induced coma was cut short when she felt someone grab her by the arm and shove her into the coat closet behind the door. Joanna was stunned to do anything in protest until she was inside, then spinning around as the door was slammed in her face.
“Hey-!”
Joanna pounded the door with her shoulder, her hand turning the knob as far as it would go, putting all her weight into trying to get it open. In the back of her head she was insulted that her father had just locked her in the coat closet so he could make out with Bela. They didn’t even like each other, what the hell? With a grunt and one final shove she felt the bolt on the door give way and fly open. She stumbled slightly before she caught her footing and stood up straight, whirling on her father and Bela, her mouth opening to give them both a piece of her mind, only to watch Bela raise a gun to Dean’s chest and shoot him.
It was strange, sort of like slow motion. Dean’s shirt was still unbuttoned and Bela’s lipstick was smeared over his neck and it looked like Bela was shaking, her hair all knotted and falling out of the sad excuse of a ponytail it had become.
But then time sped up and Joanna couldn’t do anything other than stare open mouthed as Dean crashed to his knees. Neither he nor Bela seemed to have noticed that she was in the room, and maybe that was a good thing, because as soon as she could feel her legs again Joanna went back to the closet, shutting the door and closing her eyes. Waiting for Bela to leave.
“Fuck you, Bela.”
“You too, Dean.”
The door slammed shut almost immediately after that, and Joanna waited all of three seconds before she was out of the closet and on her knees in front of her dad, pressing one hand against his gun shot wound and plunging the other one into the pocket of her jacket. She fumbled with it, muttering things like ‘getting yourself shot’ and ‘what were you thinking?’ before she managed to dial Sam’s number.
“Sam.” and she couldn’t think of anything to say. Her throat wouldn’t work
“Joanna? You there?”
“It’s Dad.” Sam went silent on the other end, and Joanna heard glasses clinking and a door slamming shut.
“What happened?”
“B-Bela…Bela, s-she…”
“I’ll be right there, don’t go after her.”
“Okay,” said Joanna softly.
“I mean it, Jo. Don’t go after her. Stay with Dean.”
“Ok, Sam.” She hated the way her voice wavered, hated it even more because the only reason it was wavering was because her dad’s blood was on her hands. She watched his eyes roll into the back of his head from pain, and he grunted as she pressed down harder against his wound. She couldn’t think, no helpful words, no I love you’s, no I’m sorry’s, no anecdote to take his mind off the pain. Sam slamming the door open six minutes later would startle her, causing her to look up at the same time the tears decide to start falling. He glanced from her to Dean for a half second before rushing to them, saying things to her about ambulance’s and hospitals and why was he talking when she couldn’t remember her name?
There was a nice nurse who kept brining her hot chocolate and smiling and asking if she needed someone to sit with her. Joanna couldn’t hear her, just watched Sam pace in front of her, talking to her even though she couldn’t hear him. It was hours until someone came to talk to them. Sam said it felt like days, Joanna hadn’t really noticed.
“Blah blah, in stable condition….blah blah might have heart troubles….blah blah can’t see him yet…blah blah, woof woof.”
Time sped up when the doctor left, leaving Joanna to hyperventilate in the worn out plastic chair with Sam sitting next to her, rubbing the length of her arm and whispering things into her hair about how he was going to be fine.
They finally let them into the room he was recovering in and Sam mentioned something about real coffee and that he had his phone. Joanna nodded, suddenly thinking what a crappy birthday this was as she curled up into one of the chair near the bed Dean was lying in. She fell asleep to the beeping of the heart machine and her dad’s steady breathing.
.
With a groan Dean opened his eyes, confused about the color of the ceiling and why his chest hurt like a bitch, but oh right, Bela shot him. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the sucky lighting. He turned his head to the left, and then to the right, startled to see Joanna sleeping in a rather uncomfortable position on what looked like a really uncomfortable chair.
“Jo?” Joanna was startled out of her doze, jerking in her chair and nearly falling out of it. She blinked, looking around before her eyes settled on Dean. Awake.
“Daddy,” breathed Joanna, getting out of her chair and dragging it closer so she could sit next to him.
“You okay?” he asked, frowning as he looked her over. Joanna nodded and leaned her forearms against the bed.
“That bitch shot you,” Dean chuckled softly. Joanna scowled at him. “It’s not funny. You almost died.”
“Oh, I know,” said Dean, wincing as he tried to sit up. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Why the hell did she shot you?” asked Joanna, looking away in thought. Dean didn’t answer her.
“Is Sam here?”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” said Joanna, shaking her head and continuing on without hearing him. “She’s never been openly violent with you. I kind of remember a couple punches here and there, but never something like this- ”
“Joanna-”
“-I mean, she shot you. What kind of person just shoots someone out of the blue? And what the hell were you doing when I came in?”
“Joanna, stop it.”
Joanna frowned at him. “Why?”
Dean sighed, closing his eyes and lifting a hand to his face. He breathed deeply for a few moments under Joanna’s concerned stare, finally moving his hand away from his face and looking away from her, out the window. “It’s Bela.”
Joanna blinked at him and glanced out the window, like she’d see something her Dad had. “What’s Bela?”
“You’re mother,” said Dean softly. “Bela’s your mother.”
Time stopped. Joanna’s eyes jumped from the window to her father, her mouth falling open in shock. Shock that he just told her who her mother was. After seventeen years of begging to know who gave birth to her…it was Bela all along?
Joanna felt her face heating up, she was beyond angry, there were no words to describe….
She hit him.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?!”
“Not here,” growled Dean, moving his hand up to his shoulder to massage the place where she’d hit him. He was already irritable from the pain in his chest, that combined with his anger for the situation made him very close to just exploding.
“Why!”
“She asked me not to!” Dean shouted back. “Damn it, Jo, you not knowing was for us. We hate each other, you know that.”
“That doesn’t mean you can just…let me believe my mother was someone special. Someone you cared about,” Joanna groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. “God I’m so stupid! What am I, blind? It’s so fucking obvious now. What Sam said when I was fifteen, how uncomfortable Bobby always got when I asked. How you…” She stopped, moving her hands away from her face, her eyebrows drawn together, staring at Dean with hurt, tear filled eyes. “How you look at me like I’m a mistake.”
Dean opened his mouth to deny it. She wasn’t a mistake, he loved her and he knew a part of Bela loved her too, always would, but he couldn’t get his voice to work. Joanna wouldn’t listen anyways. She stood up suddenly, grabbing her coat off the back of her chair and moving quickly to the door.
“Jo.” she ignored him and pulled the door open. “Joanna!”
“What’s going on?” Dean glared at Sam as he walked in, his eyes trailing after Joanna as she practically ran down the hall. He turned back to Dean and stopped, seeing the expression on his face. “What happened?”
“She knows about Bela.”
“Shit.”
“Tell me about it. It’s her own damn fault. She wanted to know so badly-”
“Dean.”
“Damn it, I was protecting her!” shouted Dean. “We all were!”
“I know, Dean, you don’t have to tell me,” said Sam, looking a little offended. Dean deflated, sinking into the bed and closing his eyes.
“Go make sure she doesn’t hurt herself,” said Dean softly. Sam nodded, turning and reaching for the door handle before he paused, turning back.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. Just go.”
Sam shut the door behind him softly, shaking his head as he made his way out of the hospital and spotted Joanna sitting on the curb, her arms wrapped around her bent legs and her forehead pressed against her knees. She looked over at him with red rimmed eyes as he sat down next to her, telling him one thing. Worst birthday present ever.
Author: Liv
darkmagic_luvr darkmagic-luvr
Characters: Joanna Winchester, Dean Winchester/Bela Talbot, Sam Winchester
Rating: T
Summery: In which Joanna realizes that the bullet in her dad’s chest was a form a foreplay and how much it sucked knowing the reason the color of her eyes were the same color blue that hers were…
Disclaimer: I don’t own the character you see before you, however any and all original characters are mine, please ask before you use them.
Warning: minor bashing of Twilight and the Jonas Brothers.
At seventeen years old Joanna had memorized a basic exorcism. She knew how to drive, seduce, pick locks, break out of a pair of handcuffs and twenty-two different ways to kill a man with a spoon. She’d been the good little soldier her dad never asked her to be and always ate her vegetables.
Figuratively, because she was still arguing that if he didn’t eat them then she didn’t have to either.
It took her seventeen years before she decided enough was enough and cornered her father, looking for answers. Up until then he’d managed to avoid the subject with hunting and stories of yore, when it was him, Sam, Uncle Bobby and Grandpa John saving people, hunting things, the family business.
And then he’d make some lame joke about how ‘one day, this will all be yours’ and Sam would laugh at him. At first she thought it was cute, how he never talked about her mother. She used to make up stories during the long drives from hunt to hunt. Like maybe her mother had been the love of Dean Winchester’s life and she’d died because something killed her. But when she was older and asked about her, both Sam and Dean would mutter curse words and tell her not to ask about her, so the girly, sissified, chick flick story line was out. Maybe Dean didn’t know who her mother was, but that couldn’t have been it because Sam had told her once that she was exactly like her mom, and it hadn’t been a compliment.
Up until her seventeenth birthday she had been patient and corporative with her father. Hell, for two years she’d dropped the subject completely and he’d seemed relieved. She’d asked Bobby (who told her that it wasn’t his business and she wouldn’t believe him if he told her anyways) and Sam (who had cringed at the tone in her voice and told her to ask her father), hell she’d come this close to asking Bela this one time when she’d blown through town thinking she’d known Dean well enough to dish out blackmail.
Now? Now she was getting tired of her dad avoiding the subject. She hated catching him looking at her like he wanted to punch a wall and go back in time to prevent himself from sleeping with whoever he did to conceive her. She hated feeling like there was a part of her missing. So she decided on her seventeenth birthday that she was going to confront her dad and not take no for an answer. He said he didn’t want to hurt her with the truth? Not knowing hurt more than whatever he could tell her. As long as she was all completely human she’d be able to deal with it.
It was gray and drizzling when she woke up, earlier than her usual five am. Sam and Dean were still asleep in the conjoining room, salt lining the windows, news paper clippings tacked up on the walls. Since she was too old to climb into bed with her dad she opted to going outside, shrugging on a dark red rain coat, tucking her sweatpants into bright yellow rain boots (because her heart had swelled with joy at the thought of having something so bright and happy in her wardrobe) and shutting the door quietly behind her.
Joanna sat down on a patch of dry concrete and watched the rain mist over the cars in the parking lot as the minutes passed and it started raining harder. It was cold for July. Like…really cold. If it hadn’t been raining Joanna would have thought something supernatural was going down. But the weather just sucked, especially in Forks, Washington. Dean had thought it was hilarious, that they were hunting vampires in Forks. Sam had rolled his eyes, muttering something about a book and how he had only read it to see if there was any creditable lore. Joanna had no idea what they were talking about. Twilight had gone out with spray tans and the Jonas Brothers before she was three.
After what felt like hours of sitting in the cold, water soaking into the legs of her sweatpants, the door behind her swung open. She heard Dean sigh and the sound of cotton scrapping against wood as he leaned against the door frame.
“You want ice cream?” his personal happy birthday.
“It’s too early for ice cream,” said Joanna softly.
“Never stopped you before,” she could heard the smile in Dean’s voice and she had to admit that it really hadn’t, but she didn’t smile back. Dean noticed. “What’s wrong?”
“Tell me who my mother is.”
“We’ve been over this, Jo,” he didn’t sound exasperated, he sounded annoyed. Joanna frowned.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asked, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. He looked serious and tired and older than she remembered. It was probably just her question, but he hadn’t looked so drained before. That look melted her anger away and her eyes softened, she repeated her question in a softer voice. But he shook his head, pushing himself off the doorframe and nudging her side with his bare foot.
“C’mon, kid, let’s grab some ice cream and when Sam get’s up we can convince him to pay for more.”
“No.” Dean gave her a funny look when she turned her head away.
“You’re not giving up on this, are you?”
“I want to know, Dad.”
“And I can’t tell you.” she perked up.
“Why can’t you?”
“We’re not talking about this anymore, Joanna,” his tone was serious and hard and it took Joanna by surprise, because he had never used that tone with her before. Sure, she’d heard him use it, but never with her. Her jaw snapped shut, teeth clenching painfully as she tried to work the tears out of her eyes.
“Fine,” she ground out, smacking her palms against the concrete as she pushed herself up onto her feet. Dean closed his eyes, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. She moved past him and into her own room, kicking off her shoes so hard they hit the wall on the other side of the room.
The movement caused the tears in her eyes to spill down her cheeks and as Joanna wiped them angrily away with the sleeve of her shirt she heard what sounded like Sam’s voice filter in though the door.
“Joanna? You okay?”
“Go away, Sam!” shouted Joanna, angry that her voice held proof of her tears, angry at her dad, angry at him because he knew who her mother was too.
What a great start to her birthday.
.
Sam managed to coax Joanna out of her room with the promise of a new hand gun for her birthday. He knew she was needing one ever since a run in with that kelpie a few weeks back. The stupid thing had chucked it into some sort of sludge after she had gotten too close. Bastard. Both Sam and the kelpie…
Sam made some excuse about dinner when he dropped her off at the hotel. She had a feeling that he didn’t want to be in a five mile radius when Joanna and Dean fell back into their argument, but she agreed. No need for other casualties.
But Sam kept looking warily at the car in front of their hotel room. Joanna didn’t think it was all that big a deal, the entire parking lot was practically full. She ignored Sam’s warning of being careful, waving off his concern and pulling the hood of her jacket over her head to stop the drizzle of rain from turning her hair all frizzy.
She didn’t feel like arguing with her dad though, she just felt like curling up next to him and watching some B horror movie. Maybe Sam could pick up Twilight so she could figure out what all Dean’s jokes where about.
However, all coherent thought was wiped from her brain the moment she opened Sam and Dean’s hotel door and stopped so suddenly she nearly tripped. Maybe a foot away from her were Bela and Dean, Dean pressing Bela against the wall, his hand under her shirt and his tongue down her throat, but Bela had unzipped his pants and her hand was somewhere inside, doing god knows what to elicit those noses out of the back of his throat.
Bela. Dean. Making out. Against a wall.
Joanna’s eyes were burning.
She spun away, blinking her eyes quickly, thinking maybe if she did it quick enough she’d have a seizure and hit her head on something and get amnesia and never, ever have to be reminded of that again.
Her self induced coma was cut short when she felt someone grab her by the arm and shove her into the coat closet behind the door. Joanna was stunned to do anything in protest until she was inside, then spinning around as the door was slammed in her face.
“Hey-!”
Joanna pounded the door with her shoulder, her hand turning the knob as far as it would go, putting all her weight into trying to get it open. In the back of her head she was insulted that her father had just locked her in the coat closet so he could make out with Bela. They didn’t even like each other, what the hell? With a grunt and one final shove she felt the bolt on the door give way and fly open. She stumbled slightly before she caught her footing and stood up straight, whirling on her father and Bela, her mouth opening to give them both a piece of her mind, only to watch Bela raise a gun to Dean’s chest and shoot him.
It was strange, sort of like slow motion. Dean’s shirt was still unbuttoned and Bela’s lipstick was smeared over his neck and it looked like Bela was shaking, her hair all knotted and falling out of the sad excuse of a ponytail it had become.
But then time sped up and Joanna couldn’t do anything other than stare open mouthed as Dean crashed to his knees. Neither he nor Bela seemed to have noticed that she was in the room, and maybe that was a good thing, because as soon as she could feel her legs again Joanna went back to the closet, shutting the door and closing her eyes. Waiting for Bela to leave.
“Fuck you, Bela.”
“You too, Dean.”
The door slammed shut almost immediately after that, and Joanna waited all of three seconds before she was out of the closet and on her knees in front of her dad, pressing one hand against his gun shot wound and plunging the other one into the pocket of her jacket. She fumbled with it, muttering things like ‘getting yourself shot’ and ‘what were you thinking?’ before she managed to dial Sam’s number.
“Sam.” and she couldn’t think of anything to say. Her throat wouldn’t work
“Joanna? You there?”
“It’s Dad.” Sam went silent on the other end, and Joanna heard glasses clinking and a door slamming shut.
“What happened?”
“B-Bela…Bela, s-she…”
“I’ll be right there, don’t go after her.”
“Okay,” said Joanna softly.
“I mean it, Jo. Don’t go after her. Stay with Dean.”
“Ok, Sam.” She hated the way her voice wavered, hated it even more because the only reason it was wavering was because her dad’s blood was on her hands. She watched his eyes roll into the back of his head from pain, and he grunted as she pressed down harder against his wound. She couldn’t think, no helpful words, no I love you’s, no I’m sorry’s, no anecdote to take his mind off the pain. Sam slamming the door open six minutes later would startle her, causing her to look up at the same time the tears decide to start falling. He glanced from her to Dean for a half second before rushing to them, saying things to her about ambulance’s and hospitals and why was he talking when she couldn’t remember her name?
There was a nice nurse who kept brining her hot chocolate and smiling and asking if she needed someone to sit with her. Joanna couldn’t hear her, just watched Sam pace in front of her, talking to her even though she couldn’t hear him. It was hours until someone came to talk to them. Sam said it felt like days, Joanna hadn’t really noticed.
“Blah blah, in stable condition….blah blah might have heart troubles….blah blah can’t see him yet…blah blah, woof woof.”
Time sped up when the doctor left, leaving Joanna to hyperventilate in the worn out plastic chair with Sam sitting next to her, rubbing the length of her arm and whispering things into her hair about how he was going to be fine.
They finally let them into the room he was recovering in and Sam mentioned something about real coffee and that he had his phone. Joanna nodded, suddenly thinking what a crappy birthday this was as she curled up into one of the chair near the bed Dean was lying in. She fell asleep to the beeping of the heart machine and her dad’s steady breathing.
.
With a groan Dean opened his eyes, confused about the color of the ceiling and why his chest hurt like a bitch, but oh right, Bela shot him. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the sucky lighting. He turned his head to the left, and then to the right, startled to see Joanna sleeping in a rather uncomfortable position on what looked like a really uncomfortable chair.
“Jo?” Joanna was startled out of her doze, jerking in her chair and nearly falling out of it. She blinked, looking around before her eyes settled on Dean. Awake.
“Daddy,” breathed Joanna, getting out of her chair and dragging it closer so she could sit next to him.
“You okay?” he asked, frowning as he looked her over. Joanna nodded and leaned her forearms against the bed.
“That bitch shot you,” Dean chuckled softly. Joanna scowled at him. “It’s not funny. You almost died.”
“Oh, I know,” said Dean, wincing as he tried to sit up. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Why the hell did she shot you?” asked Joanna, looking away in thought. Dean didn’t answer her.
“Is Sam here?”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” said Joanna, shaking her head and continuing on without hearing him. “She’s never been openly violent with you. I kind of remember a couple punches here and there, but never something like this- ”
“Joanna-”
“-I mean, she shot you. What kind of person just shoots someone out of the blue? And what the hell were you doing when I came in?”
“Joanna, stop it.”
Joanna frowned at him. “Why?”
Dean sighed, closing his eyes and lifting a hand to his face. He breathed deeply for a few moments under Joanna’s concerned stare, finally moving his hand away from his face and looking away from her, out the window. “It’s Bela.”
Joanna blinked at him and glanced out the window, like she’d see something her Dad had. “What’s Bela?”
“You’re mother,” said Dean softly. “Bela’s your mother.”
Time stopped. Joanna’s eyes jumped from the window to her father, her mouth falling open in shock. Shock that he just told her who her mother was. After seventeen years of begging to know who gave birth to her…it was Bela all along?
Joanna felt her face heating up, she was beyond angry, there were no words to describe….
She hit him.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?!”
“Not here,” growled Dean, moving his hand up to his shoulder to massage the place where she’d hit him. He was already irritable from the pain in his chest, that combined with his anger for the situation made him very close to just exploding.
“Why!”
“She asked me not to!” Dean shouted back. “Damn it, Jo, you not knowing was for us. We hate each other, you know that.”
“That doesn’t mean you can just…let me believe my mother was someone special. Someone you cared about,” Joanna groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. “God I’m so stupid! What am I, blind? It’s so fucking obvious now. What Sam said when I was fifteen, how uncomfortable Bobby always got when I asked. How you…” She stopped, moving her hands away from her face, her eyebrows drawn together, staring at Dean with hurt, tear filled eyes. “How you look at me like I’m a mistake.”
Dean opened his mouth to deny it. She wasn’t a mistake, he loved her and he knew a part of Bela loved her too, always would, but he couldn’t get his voice to work. Joanna wouldn’t listen anyways. She stood up suddenly, grabbing her coat off the back of her chair and moving quickly to the door.
“Jo.” she ignored him and pulled the door open. “Joanna!”
“What’s going on?” Dean glared at Sam as he walked in, his eyes trailing after Joanna as she practically ran down the hall. He turned back to Dean and stopped, seeing the expression on his face. “What happened?”
“She knows about Bela.”
“Shit.”
“Tell me about it. It’s her own damn fault. She wanted to know so badly-”
“Dean.”
“Damn it, I was protecting her!” shouted Dean. “We all were!”
“I know, Dean, you don’t have to tell me,” said Sam, looking a little offended. Dean deflated, sinking into the bed and closing his eyes.
“Go make sure she doesn’t hurt herself,” said Dean softly. Sam nodded, turning and reaching for the door handle before he paused, turning back.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. Just go.”
Sam shut the door behind him softly, shaking his head as he made his way out of the hospital and spotted Joanna sitting on the curb, her arms wrapped around her bent legs and her forehead pressed against her knees. She looked over at him with red rimmed eyes as he sat down next to her, telling him one thing. Worst birthday present ever.