Dean/Jo - Dignity in Death
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Dignity in Death
Author: iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester/Jo Harvelle , Tessa, Bobby Singer
Content Warning Spoilers through 510: Abandon All Hope, Character vegetation, angst.
Summary: By the time she actually did get around to seeing Dean, it wasn’t because she wanted to, or even because she felt compelled to. It was a matter of principle.
Author’s Note: Written for casper_san for the spn_het_love Christmas fic exchange. Not quite what the prompter was expecting, but Jo kind of took it and ran with it?
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
That afterlife sucked. Generally speaking.
They were just too complicated for her taste. Jo had always been a get-her-hands dirty kind of girl, and while Hell would have been chock full of ways to get her hands dirty, that wasn’t where she was sent. She’s not sure why, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She could see the way Hell haunted Dean’s eyes, every move he made, and that wasn’t a position she would have wished upon herself. It didn’t stop her confusion, however, when the dark haired reaper led her to purgatory, or some version of it. It seemed very ambivalent for a place that was in the middle of Heaven and Hell, but she supposed that part of her knew that that, in the end, was what purgatory was. Ambivalence. Not weighing things one way or the other, just working off what you have earned.
“I don’t understand.” Because that much was obvious. She didn’t understand why she was here and not Hell, as that was where everyone seemed to be heading these days-soldiers for the coming war, only she knew that they were just being used by Lucifer to get his dirty work done-but the reaper, Tessa, didn’t seem to have an answer for her on that one.
“Let’s just say we feel it’s not what you’ve earned.”
Jo considered that for a moment, crossing her arms in front of her chest to close herself off as she tried to consider the appropriate answer to that before turning back to her. “Why do I have a feeling there’s more to this than that?”
Tessa grit her teeth, looking over at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. “Let’s just say I owed someone a favor, and while I can’t help them directly, I can help the people they care about.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of that one. She knew on some level that Tessa meant Sam and Dean but she wasn’t sure how or why. She also knew, however, that if she pushed this issue she was only going to get told to not look a gift horse in the mouth. And she didn’t need to be told what she already knew. Taking a deep breath, she slid her hands in her pockets-metaphysical ones, of course-and glanced around at where she was being left with a sigh. “So what do I do now?”
“Well, you’ve got two choices,” Tessa replied. “You can sit and watch, see how everything goes, or we could find work for you. Though, the work will not be easy. And it certainly won’t be fun.”
“But it’ll be doing something, won’t it?” Jo looked over at her. “I won’t just be sitting on my ass pretending that those aren’t my friends and family.” Tessa nodded, and Jo considered that her decision made for her. “Then I’ll do it.”
“Okay,” Tessa nodded, before reaching for Jo’s hand again, pulling her away from what she was watching and waiting for Jo to follow her lead. “Then come with me.”
***
Jo was never existential. She had never been one to ponder the big questions or why she was there. She wasn’t the big picture girl. She just knew that there were some things she was good at, and hunting was one of them. When she hunted, she could do good, help people that wouldn’t be helped otherwise. That was all that mattered, in the end. Not the big picture. Just her little one. And maybe it wasn’t objective, and maybe it hadn’t kept her alive, but it was something that she could point to directly and say “I did that.” That, in the end, was what she mattered.
That was the hardest part for her about being a reaper. She needed to be existential. She needed to take this person, this soul who was dead or dying and ease them into the transition of death. Show them where in the big picture they had made their difference. Where they had impacted here on this slowly dying world, and that wasn’t always as obvious as she would have liked. It was easier with the obvious. When it was a hunter or a doctor or someone who had clearly done something good with their life. It became harder with those who had lived through the more mundane.
It was also easier, though, when it was someone we knew. And she got lucky with her first one.
“Hey, Bobby.”
She knew that this wasn’t the way he had envisioned getting back on his feet again, but in the end it seemed fitting. Because despite that wheelchair, he’d managed to take down a few of them with him. It proved that if nothing else, he wasn’t helpless, even if he didn’t have his legs. Even if he still went down in the fight. He turned back around to face her, a small smile crossing his face as he made his way over to her.
“Now there’s a face I thought I’d never see again.”
“C’mon now, Bobby. You should know better than that,” she smirked a bit, her hands sliding back into her pockets as she made her way closer. “You’re lucky I didn’t start hauntin’ your ass after I kicked.”
The smile widened, just slightly, and he moved closer to her. “So what’re you doin’ here now? I’m already dead, sweetheart.”
“I know,” she nodded, before extending a hand out to him. “My turn to have all the answers for a change.”
His eyebrow rose. “You’re a reaper?”
She nodded. “It was either do this or sit and do nothing. You know I’m not a do nothin’ kind of girl.”
“Yeah, I know.” He was quiet for a moment, sitting there and digesting that statement before looking back at her. “So is it gonna be the same for me? Sit and do nothin’ or get to do this?” A pause. “Or am I goin’ somewhere else?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. Not yet.” She gave him a soft look, before squeezing his hand when he finally placed it in hers. “That’s just the way the rules are, Bobby.”
“I know, Jo,” he said softly. “I know.”
She watched him quietly for a moment, before her head tilted back towards the door, a tense look crossing her face. She knew they both could hear the sound of gravel crunching under the Impala’s tires, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew it too. “Time to go, Bobby. You’re gonna want to get out of here before they get here.”
“I know,” he said softly, his eyes looking at the broken doorframe that surrounded the entrance to his study, and took a deep breath. “Just not sure if I’m ready yet.”
Her hand landed on his shoulder gently, and when he was looking at her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders pulling him closer. “Trust me. You’re ready.”
She felt his arms wrap around her tightly, taking the final hug she never got before she died, and felt him nod against her shoulder. “Alright. If you say so.”
There was that warm white light that came with the collecting of any soul, and soon she was standing in the room alone, with Bobby’s body and the familiar of feelings and scents of the room, but she didn’t linger long. She was gone before the two Winchesters even rounded the corner of the room, not wanting to partake in their grief, or more importantly just not wanting to see it-or not wanting to see them. She wasn’t ready to see the Winchesters again. Not yet.
She honestly wasn’t sure if she ever would be.
***
By the time she actually did get around to seeing Dean, it wasn’t because she wanted to, or even because she felt compelled to. It was a matter of principle.
It was one thing to have a soul not cross over because they chose to. In the end it was their choice that they had made themselves, and whatever madness or destruction that resulted of that was their own choice. It was another thing entirely when a soul couldn’t cross over, forced to stay on that mortal plane in spirit form for whatever reason-in this case, angelic decree-it was painful. The loneliness, and the pain and lashing out that resulted from it wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t their choice, and when Jo heard that that was Dean’s fate, she was heartbroken for him.
She understood the why. Dean was never going to recover from what Michael’s presence inside him had done to his body, but he couldn’t die either. He had given his body to Michael in order to save the world, but he said that once that was done, Michael had to get out, pending the world coming to an end again. He didn’t want to just be a vessel. In the end, he still wanted to be Dean. But in order to just be Dean, he wasn’t allowed to die.
A dead body couldn’t give consent, and that was what the angels needed more than anything else.
So Dean was stuck in that hospital room, unable to talk, unable to touch. Sam came by on his good days with an Ouija board to talk to him, but those days were few and far between, so it was mostly Dean alone, with himself. It was a personal hell that Jo couldn’t even imagine, especially with a guy like Dean-a guy who would crucify himself with his own self-blame rather than consider that some things were just beyond his control. It was that, in and of itself, that drew her back to him again-not because she was ready, or needed to see him, but because just this once, he needed her.
He was on the counter by the window today. His legs were dangling off the edge, kicking at the air that wasn’t really being effected, just there as his body moved through it. He moved through the various areas of the room, avoiding his own body but taking up space everywhere else. He had wandered the hospital a bit in the beginning, but got bored with that eventually-or possibly it only made things worse-so now he just kept to his room, letting the time waste away, and not able to do anything about it.
He knew the minute she entered the room, though. She could see it in his eyes and just the way he glanced over almost as soon as he was solid. And he knew what she was to boot, which only made things easier. She didn’t have to explain.
“Can’t take me, you know.” He shifted so that he was drawing one knee up to his chest and leaning back against the wall. “Apparently the angels are allowed to fuck up my life, even after I’m a deep-fried human vegetable.”
“I know,” she said softly. “And you know, I know that.”
“So, why do I bother saying it?” he finished for her with a smirk. “Dunno. Maybe I just like having someone to bitch to.”
“Alright, alright. I can see that,” she grinned a bit. “Gonna bitch at me the whole time I’m here, or are you gonna actually just talk?”
“Okay, you win. That’s the last you’ll hear me bitch.”
“Thank you.” She made her way over to him, pushing herself up on the counter next to him. “So how’re you doing?”
“Oh, you mean how’s slowly losing my mind going?” he said with a bit of a snap, and she glared at him, before smirking. “Last one, I promise. And -it’s slow. Long and slow and boring as hell. You know, when you get stuck in a situation like this, aren’t you supposed to leave the soul with a book or something?”
“Sorry. Gotta be corporeal to hold a book.”
“That’s bullshit,” Dean sighed. “What do you guys do for fun then? Or are people dying so quickly you don’t even have the time?”
She shrugged, before tilting her head to the side slightly. “You know, there’s a regular movie night in the pediatrics wing.”
“Yeah, but the movies suck.”
“Well, it’s something to do, Dean. Take it or leave it.”
Dean rolled his eyes before tilting his head back against the window. “I’ll leave it, thanks.”
“That’s your choice,” she said with a bit of a laugh, leaning back with him and letting her back rest against the column between the windows. There was silence for a moment, just the two of them sitting with each other and soaking in the presence of another person being there. There was just enough silence for it to not be uncomfortable before Dean spoke up again, shifting to look at her more.
“Can I ask you something?”
“If it’s dirty, you’re getting punched in the face.”
At that he laughed. The first genuine laugh he’d probably had since he’d died, and Jo couldn’t help but smile when she heard it. “No, not dirty,” he sighed. “Just-a question.”
“Alright. Go for it.”
“Do you have any regrets at all? For anything?”
She could tell in his tone that he meant him. Did she regret him. And she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of giving him something else to hang himself with. She inched closer to him, nudging him in the shoulder as she did. “There was never a choice, Dean. If I had to go back and do it again, it’d always be me and that hound over you. Every time.”
Dean’s eyes glanced back at her, before looking back over at his body. “Maybe this is what I deserve. I mean, all those people that died because of me, all those people who got hurt because I couldn’t handle things-maybe this, being stuck here alone being slowly driven out of my mind is what I’m supposed to get.”
“Dean, if you ever say that again, I’ll punch you for that too.”
He looked back at her. “Jo-”
“First of all, all the people that have died-they knew what they were getting into when they started this business. Death is a side-effect of the hunt. You know it, and I know it. Second of all, for all the people that have died, there are at least five that you’ve saved. And I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that counts for far more than you realize.”
Dean was quiet for a moment before responding. “Doesn’t feel like it when all the people you lose are people you care about.”
“I know,” she sighed softly, placing a hand on his leg lightly. She could feel him tense at the touch, more from surprise than anything else. It had been so long since anyone had touched him that he didn’t pull away. If anything, he moved closer. “Dean, the only regret I’ve got when it comes to you is that we didn’t have more time.”
He shifted so that he was more even with her, one hand coming up to brush the hair away from her face lightly, before leaning in to kiss her, soft and sweet, the kind of kiss that neither of them had had in a long time. It was so nice to just have that kind of contact again, that she leaned into it like a cat, moving one hand up to cup his face, pulling him in closer so that he’d hold the kiss. It lasted forever, it seemed like-longer than a normal kiss would because neither of them needed to breathe anymore-and when it finally broke, Dean didn’t let her pull away, one arm around her shoulders so that she’d stay close.
“Mind stayin’ with me for a while?”
He sounded so broken, desperate for any kind of human connection, that she couldn’t tell him no. Not that she could ever tell him no, not in the ways that mattered. She nodded as she curled into him, just draping an arm across his waist and staying close.
“Just until I get a call.”
“Good enough for me.”
Title: Dignity in Death
Author: iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester/Jo Harvelle , Tessa, Bobby Singer
Content Warning Spoilers through 510: Abandon All Hope, Character vegetation, angst.
Summary: By the time she actually did get around to seeing Dean, it wasn’t because she wanted to, or even because she felt compelled to. It was a matter of principle.
Author’s Note: Written for casper_san for the spn_het_love Christmas fic exchange. Not quite what the prompter was expecting, but Jo kind of took it and ran with it?
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
That afterlife sucked. Generally speaking.
They were just too complicated for her taste. Jo had always been a get-her-hands dirty kind of girl, and while Hell would have been chock full of ways to get her hands dirty, that wasn’t where she was sent. She’s not sure why, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She could see the way Hell haunted Dean’s eyes, every move he made, and that wasn’t a position she would have wished upon herself. It didn’t stop her confusion, however, when the dark haired reaper led her to purgatory, or some version of it. It seemed very ambivalent for a place that was in the middle of Heaven and Hell, but she supposed that part of her knew that that, in the end, was what purgatory was. Ambivalence. Not weighing things one way or the other, just working off what you have earned.
“I don’t understand.” Because that much was obvious. She didn’t understand why she was here and not Hell, as that was where everyone seemed to be heading these days-soldiers for the coming war, only she knew that they were just being used by Lucifer to get his dirty work done-but the reaper, Tessa, didn’t seem to have an answer for her on that one.
“Let’s just say we feel it’s not what you’ve earned.”
Jo considered that for a moment, crossing her arms in front of her chest to close herself off as she tried to consider the appropriate answer to that before turning back to her. “Why do I have a feeling there’s more to this than that?”
Tessa grit her teeth, looking over at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. “Let’s just say I owed someone a favor, and while I can’t help them directly, I can help the people they care about.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of that one. She knew on some level that Tessa meant Sam and Dean but she wasn’t sure how or why. She also knew, however, that if she pushed this issue she was only going to get told to not look a gift horse in the mouth. And she didn’t need to be told what she already knew. Taking a deep breath, she slid her hands in her pockets-metaphysical ones, of course-and glanced around at where she was being left with a sigh. “So what do I do now?”
“Well, you’ve got two choices,” Tessa replied. “You can sit and watch, see how everything goes, or we could find work for you. Though, the work will not be easy. And it certainly won’t be fun.”
“But it’ll be doing something, won’t it?” Jo looked over at her. “I won’t just be sitting on my ass pretending that those aren’t my friends and family.” Tessa nodded, and Jo considered that her decision made for her. “Then I’ll do it.”
“Okay,” Tessa nodded, before reaching for Jo’s hand again, pulling her away from what she was watching and waiting for Jo to follow her lead. “Then come with me.”
***
Jo was never existential. She had never been one to ponder the big questions or why she was there. She wasn’t the big picture girl. She just knew that there were some things she was good at, and hunting was one of them. When she hunted, she could do good, help people that wouldn’t be helped otherwise. That was all that mattered, in the end. Not the big picture. Just her little one. And maybe it wasn’t objective, and maybe it hadn’t kept her alive, but it was something that she could point to directly and say “I did that.” That, in the end, was what she mattered.
That was the hardest part for her about being a reaper. She needed to be existential. She needed to take this person, this soul who was dead or dying and ease them into the transition of death. Show them where in the big picture they had made their difference. Where they had impacted here on this slowly dying world, and that wasn’t always as obvious as she would have liked. It was easier with the obvious. When it was a hunter or a doctor or someone who had clearly done something good with their life. It became harder with those who had lived through the more mundane.
It was also easier, though, when it was someone we knew. And she got lucky with her first one.
“Hey, Bobby.”
She knew that this wasn’t the way he had envisioned getting back on his feet again, but in the end it seemed fitting. Because despite that wheelchair, he’d managed to take down a few of them with him. It proved that if nothing else, he wasn’t helpless, even if he didn’t have his legs. Even if he still went down in the fight. He turned back around to face her, a small smile crossing his face as he made his way over to her.
“Now there’s a face I thought I’d never see again.”
“C’mon now, Bobby. You should know better than that,” she smirked a bit, her hands sliding back into her pockets as she made her way closer. “You’re lucky I didn’t start hauntin’ your ass after I kicked.”
The smile widened, just slightly, and he moved closer to her. “So what’re you doin’ here now? I’m already dead, sweetheart.”
“I know,” she nodded, before extending a hand out to him. “My turn to have all the answers for a change.”
His eyebrow rose. “You’re a reaper?”
She nodded. “It was either do this or sit and do nothing. You know I’m not a do nothin’ kind of girl.”
“Yeah, I know.” He was quiet for a moment, sitting there and digesting that statement before looking back at her. “So is it gonna be the same for me? Sit and do nothin’ or get to do this?” A pause. “Or am I goin’ somewhere else?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. Not yet.” She gave him a soft look, before squeezing his hand when he finally placed it in hers. “That’s just the way the rules are, Bobby.”
“I know, Jo,” he said softly. “I know.”
She watched him quietly for a moment, before her head tilted back towards the door, a tense look crossing her face. She knew they both could hear the sound of gravel crunching under the Impala’s tires, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew it too. “Time to go, Bobby. You’re gonna want to get out of here before they get here.”
“I know,” he said softly, his eyes looking at the broken doorframe that surrounded the entrance to his study, and took a deep breath. “Just not sure if I’m ready yet.”
Her hand landed on his shoulder gently, and when he was looking at her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders pulling him closer. “Trust me. You’re ready.”
She felt his arms wrap around her tightly, taking the final hug she never got before she died, and felt him nod against her shoulder. “Alright. If you say so.”
There was that warm white light that came with the collecting of any soul, and soon she was standing in the room alone, with Bobby’s body and the familiar of feelings and scents of the room, but she didn’t linger long. She was gone before the two Winchesters even rounded the corner of the room, not wanting to partake in their grief, or more importantly just not wanting to see it-or not wanting to see them. She wasn’t ready to see the Winchesters again. Not yet.
She honestly wasn’t sure if she ever would be.
***
By the time she actually did get around to seeing Dean, it wasn’t because she wanted to, or even because she felt compelled to. It was a matter of principle.
It was one thing to have a soul not cross over because they chose to. In the end it was their choice that they had made themselves, and whatever madness or destruction that resulted of that was their own choice. It was another thing entirely when a soul couldn’t cross over, forced to stay on that mortal plane in spirit form for whatever reason-in this case, angelic decree-it was painful. The loneliness, and the pain and lashing out that resulted from it wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t their choice, and when Jo heard that that was Dean’s fate, she was heartbroken for him.
She understood the why. Dean was never going to recover from what Michael’s presence inside him had done to his body, but he couldn’t die either. He had given his body to Michael in order to save the world, but he said that once that was done, Michael had to get out, pending the world coming to an end again. He didn’t want to just be a vessel. In the end, he still wanted to be Dean. But in order to just be Dean, he wasn’t allowed to die.
A dead body couldn’t give consent, and that was what the angels needed more than anything else.
So Dean was stuck in that hospital room, unable to talk, unable to touch. Sam came by on his good days with an Ouija board to talk to him, but those days were few and far between, so it was mostly Dean alone, with himself. It was a personal hell that Jo couldn’t even imagine, especially with a guy like Dean-a guy who would crucify himself with his own self-blame rather than consider that some things were just beyond his control. It was that, in and of itself, that drew her back to him again-not because she was ready, or needed to see him, but because just this once, he needed her.
He was on the counter by the window today. His legs were dangling off the edge, kicking at the air that wasn’t really being effected, just there as his body moved through it. He moved through the various areas of the room, avoiding his own body but taking up space everywhere else. He had wandered the hospital a bit in the beginning, but got bored with that eventually-or possibly it only made things worse-so now he just kept to his room, letting the time waste away, and not able to do anything about it.
He knew the minute she entered the room, though. She could see it in his eyes and just the way he glanced over almost as soon as he was solid. And he knew what she was to boot, which only made things easier. She didn’t have to explain.
“Can’t take me, you know.” He shifted so that he was drawing one knee up to his chest and leaning back against the wall. “Apparently the angels are allowed to fuck up my life, even after I’m a deep-fried human vegetable.”
“I know,” she said softly. “And you know, I know that.”
“So, why do I bother saying it?” he finished for her with a smirk. “Dunno. Maybe I just like having someone to bitch to.”
“Alright, alright. I can see that,” she grinned a bit. “Gonna bitch at me the whole time I’m here, or are you gonna actually just talk?”
“Okay, you win. That’s the last you’ll hear me bitch.”
“Thank you.” She made her way over to him, pushing herself up on the counter next to him. “So how’re you doing?”
“Oh, you mean how’s slowly losing my mind going?” he said with a bit of a snap, and she glared at him, before smirking. “Last one, I promise. And -it’s slow. Long and slow and boring as hell. You know, when you get stuck in a situation like this, aren’t you supposed to leave the soul with a book or something?”
“Sorry. Gotta be corporeal to hold a book.”
“That’s bullshit,” Dean sighed. “What do you guys do for fun then? Or are people dying so quickly you don’t even have the time?”
She shrugged, before tilting her head to the side slightly. “You know, there’s a regular movie night in the pediatrics wing.”
“Yeah, but the movies suck.”
“Well, it’s something to do, Dean. Take it or leave it.”
Dean rolled his eyes before tilting his head back against the window. “I’ll leave it, thanks.”
“That’s your choice,” she said with a bit of a laugh, leaning back with him and letting her back rest against the column between the windows. There was silence for a moment, just the two of them sitting with each other and soaking in the presence of another person being there. There was just enough silence for it to not be uncomfortable before Dean spoke up again, shifting to look at her more.
“Can I ask you something?”
“If it’s dirty, you’re getting punched in the face.”
At that he laughed. The first genuine laugh he’d probably had since he’d died, and Jo couldn’t help but smile when she heard it. “No, not dirty,” he sighed. “Just-a question.”
“Alright. Go for it.”
“Do you have any regrets at all? For anything?”
She could tell in his tone that he meant him. Did she regret him. And she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of giving him something else to hang himself with. She inched closer to him, nudging him in the shoulder as she did. “There was never a choice, Dean. If I had to go back and do it again, it’d always be me and that hound over you. Every time.”
Dean’s eyes glanced back at her, before looking back over at his body. “Maybe this is what I deserve. I mean, all those people that died because of me, all those people who got hurt because I couldn’t handle things-maybe this, being stuck here alone being slowly driven out of my mind is what I’m supposed to get.”
“Dean, if you ever say that again, I’ll punch you for that too.”
He looked back at her. “Jo-”
“First of all, all the people that have died-they knew what they were getting into when they started this business. Death is a side-effect of the hunt. You know it, and I know it. Second of all, for all the people that have died, there are at least five that you’ve saved. And I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that counts for far more than you realize.”
Dean was quiet for a moment before responding. “Doesn’t feel like it when all the people you lose are people you care about.”
“I know,” she sighed softly, placing a hand on his leg lightly. She could feel him tense at the touch, more from surprise than anything else. It had been so long since anyone had touched him that he didn’t pull away. If anything, he moved closer. “Dean, the only regret I’ve got when it comes to you is that we didn’t have more time.”
He shifted so that he was more even with her, one hand coming up to brush the hair away from her face lightly, before leaning in to kiss her, soft and sweet, the kind of kiss that neither of them had had in a long time. It was so nice to just have that kind of contact again, that she leaned into it like a cat, moving one hand up to cup his face, pulling him in closer so that he’d hold the kiss. It lasted forever, it seemed like-longer than a normal kiss would because neither of them needed to breathe anymore-and when it finally broke, Dean didn’t let her pull away, one arm around her shoulders so that she’d stay close.
“Mind stayin’ with me for a while?”
He sounded so broken, desperate for any kind of human connection, that she couldn’t tell him no. Not that she could ever tell him no, not in the ways that mattered. She nodded as she curled into him, just draping an arm across his waist and staying close.
“Just until I get a call.”
“Good enough for me.”