Fic: This Layered World
Title: This Layered World
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Jo/Lucifer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 844
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Jo sees things she isn’t supposed to.
AN: Written for kijikun who I promised this to a while back. Sorry it took me so long. Also for the 'hallucination' square of hc_bingo
When Jo stumbles out of the warehouse into the cold night air she already knows that it's too late. She got a full-on look at the fairy thing for a second too long. Just before her knife caught it in the throat she'd had to open her eyes to judge the swing.
She'd done it as quickly as she could. But the damn thing had known, it'd been looking straight at her.
It doesn't matter that the thing's now dead. It doesn't matter that it's laying on the floor in there in a pool of its own pinkish blood, slowly dissolving into the concrete. Because she can already feel the itch at the back of her eyes. The dizzy, light-headed feeling. You don't look the damn creatures in the eye for one important reason.
Hallucinations.
Madness.
Death.
The world is already filled with painful, sparking angles of light. The buildings and trees twist and shudder like some great hand is wrenching at their foundations. She shuts her eyes but it doesn't help, it doesn't change anything. She can see it all behind them and it just makes the itching worse, turns it into biting pain and she has to open them again. She has to watch the world heave and contort.
Jo's down on her knees before she realises it, hands pushed into the wet grass. The cold of it seeps through her jeans, leaves them wet at the shins and knees. She tries to use it as an anchor, tries to force herself to believe that it's real. But the earth swells and opens up, hollows out and she knows she doesn't have much time before the hallucinations get worse. Before she's seeing things she shouldn't see, that human beings were never meant to see.
"Damn it, god damn it." She inhales, lets the air fill her lungs, cold and stabbing and she knows it won't help. She knows nothing is going to help. But she's a hunter and she's damned if she's going to lay down and die without a fight. Her phone's in her pocket but it won't do her any good. Her mom's at least thirty miles away and she'd never get here in time. She wouldn’t get here before Jo's brain gave up on her body. She's going to hallucinate until she goes mad. Jo doesn't - she doesn't want to make her mom listen to that, doesn’t want to put her through that.
Her fingers are going numb in the grass, and she's blinking frantically as if she can stop it.
The world tilts, suddenly and sickeningly and Jo gasps, tries to hang on when it's not really moving at all. The ground starts to fall away, leaving streaks of red and black and she can feel herself breathing too fast.
And then there's a hand over her eyes. A large, cold curl of blackness and pressure.
She struggles, immediately, all fear and instinct. She shoves back with an elbow and tries to twist away but there's no give at all in whoever's holding her, there's just weight and strength.
"Calm yourself, Joanna."
Jo has both hands wrapped around the wrist and forearm, fingers digging into the cold skin. She knows the voice in her ear, the deep, rough curl of it. She knows who's holding her, and everything inside her wants to rebel against it, wants to claw at it. Even though he's never done anything but save her. Never done anything but talk to her.
"Get off me," she says breathlessly. It comes out dizzy and panicked. Heartbeat too fast.
"I don't think you'll like what you see if I do that."
His free hand slides a long strand of hair behind her ear and she stiffens, tries to shake him off again.
"Always so ungrateful." He almost sounds amused.
She exhales, something angry that she can't quite turn into words.
"Didn't I tell you I would always be watching you?"
There's pressure against the curve of her ear and she makes a sound, something soft that she wants to be protest. She's afraid that it isn't - or that it won't be forever.
Because Jo thinks she understands how the devil can wear people down, make them his.
How people can fall, without even realising it.
And that's almost as terrifying as the world would be if she opened her eyes.
"Let me go," she says anyway.
Lucifer hums into her hair, like he's disappointed.
"Is that what you want?"
She tugs at his hand with her fingers. Takes a breath.
"Yes."
Lucifer's hand slips free.
Jo opens her eyes.
She's alone, and the world is cold and dark. It's exactly the way it should be.
The trees rustle once and then go still.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Jo/Lucifer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 844
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Jo sees things she isn’t supposed to.
AN: Written for kijikun who I promised this to a while back. Sorry it took me so long. Also for the 'hallucination' square of hc_bingo
When Jo stumbles out of the warehouse into the cold night air she already knows that it's too late. She got a full-on look at the fairy thing for a second too long. Just before her knife caught it in the throat she'd had to open her eyes to judge the swing.
She'd done it as quickly as she could. But the damn thing had known, it'd been looking straight at her.
It doesn't matter that the thing's now dead. It doesn't matter that it's laying on the floor in there in a pool of its own pinkish blood, slowly dissolving into the concrete. Because she can already feel the itch at the back of her eyes. The dizzy, light-headed feeling. You don't look the damn creatures in the eye for one important reason.
Hallucinations.
Madness.
Death.
The world is already filled with painful, sparking angles of light. The buildings and trees twist and shudder like some great hand is wrenching at their foundations. She shuts her eyes but it doesn't help, it doesn't change anything. She can see it all behind them and it just makes the itching worse, turns it into biting pain and she has to open them again. She has to watch the world heave and contort.
Jo's down on her knees before she realises it, hands pushed into the wet grass. The cold of it seeps through her jeans, leaves them wet at the shins and knees. She tries to use it as an anchor, tries to force herself to believe that it's real. But the earth swells and opens up, hollows out and she knows she doesn't have much time before the hallucinations get worse. Before she's seeing things she shouldn't see, that human beings were never meant to see.
"Damn it, god damn it." She inhales, lets the air fill her lungs, cold and stabbing and she knows it won't help. She knows nothing is going to help. But she's a hunter and she's damned if she's going to lay down and die without a fight. Her phone's in her pocket but it won't do her any good. Her mom's at least thirty miles away and she'd never get here in time. She wouldn’t get here before Jo's brain gave up on her body. She's going to hallucinate until she goes mad. Jo doesn't - she doesn't want to make her mom listen to that, doesn’t want to put her through that.
Her fingers are going numb in the grass, and she's blinking frantically as if she can stop it.
The world tilts, suddenly and sickeningly and Jo gasps, tries to hang on when it's not really moving at all. The ground starts to fall away, leaving streaks of red and black and she can feel herself breathing too fast.
And then there's a hand over her eyes. A large, cold curl of blackness and pressure.
She struggles, immediately, all fear and instinct. She shoves back with an elbow and tries to twist away but there's no give at all in whoever's holding her, there's just weight and strength.
"Calm yourself, Joanna."
Jo has both hands wrapped around the wrist and forearm, fingers digging into the cold skin. She knows the voice in her ear, the deep, rough curl of it. She knows who's holding her, and everything inside her wants to rebel against it, wants to claw at it. Even though he's never done anything but save her. Never done anything but talk to her.
"Get off me," she says breathlessly. It comes out dizzy and panicked. Heartbeat too fast.
"I don't think you'll like what you see if I do that."
His free hand slides a long strand of hair behind her ear and she stiffens, tries to shake him off again.
"Always so ungrateful." He almost sounds amused.
She exhales, something angry that she can't quite turn into words.
"Didn't I tell you I would always be watching you?"
There's pressure against the curve of her ear and she makes a sound, something soft that she wants to be protest. She's afraid that it isn't - or that it won't be forever.
Because Jo thinks she understands how the devil can wear people down, make them his.
How people can fall, without even realising it.
And that's almost as terrifying as the world would be if she opened her eyes.
"Let me go," she says anyway.
Lucifer hums into her hair, like he's disappointed.
"Is that what you want?"
She tugs at his hand with her fingers. Takes a breath.
"Yes."
Lucifer's hand slips free.
Jo opens her eyes.
She's alone, and the world is cold and dark. It's exactly the way it should be.
The trees rustle once and then go still.