End of the Road [Jo/John, table #1: elemental]
Title: End of the Road
Author: highlandemma
Character(s)/Pairing: Jo/John
Theme: Prompt Table Theme 1: Elemental
Prompt: #14: memory
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, nor will I ever (most likely) own anything that is related to Supernatural. The storyline is mine, but that's it. Even this computer isn't mine. *sigh*
Summary: John Winchester comes back from the dead. Jo doesn't know what to make of that.
Warnings/Author Notes: None for this chapter. This would be set sometime before S5 (since I haven't seen any of it) so there may be spoilers up to the end of S4.
John was a lot more comfortable without one arm cuffed over his head, and he slept very soundly. He wasn't surprised, given how exhausted his body had been since he'd appeared in those woods. The last time John woke, Jo tossed an apple, a granola bar, and some spicy beef jerky at him and told him to eat.
"We've got another piece of road to travel before we get there, and I didn't really bring enough food for two," Jo explained when John was looking at the food he was holding. He was quick to reassure her.
"Considering how hungry I am, Jo, I have nothing bad to say about your lack of planning." The jerky disappeared quickly, the granola bar was almost eaten through the wrapper, and the apple was gone quickly after that, seeds, core and all. John lay back on his bed and waited for Jo to finish before they got back on the road.
John frowned at the cuffs attaching him to the car door frame once again. "When this is done and we get where we're going, Jo, we're gonna have words about this handcuff thing."
He turned to glower at Jo just in time to watch that same flush creeping up her neck. "That's fine, John. we can discuss it then."
John fell asleep again quickly, lulled by the sound of truck tires rolling over the highway. Just before he was out again, he had a flash of memory: in the Impala with Dean and Sam, driving who knew where, singing along with a Doors song on the radio. One of those moments when (almost) everything was good, no one (and nothing) was chasing them, and sun was streaming through the front windshield.
Jo saw a smile creeping over John's face as he fell asleep; she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with her, but it was nice to see. She shook herself a little and got back to driving.
The next time John woke up, they were in a town, or possibly a city. Jo turned into the driveway of a nondescript house with an attached garage set about half a mile off the highway. She hit the garage door opener hooked on John's sun visor, and pulled in expertly, hitting the button again to close the door behind them.
She pulled John's door open when she crossed to that side of the truck, quick to relock the cuffs behind him when she detached him from the doorframe. John's knees almost buckled when his feet his the concrete floor, but he managed to lean into the side of the dusty truck to keep standing. He tried to look at Jo in the dimness of the garage, but she avoided his eyes. She used gentle shoves to turn him toward the door leading to the house, and John didn't really have a choice but to go where she directed.
The kitchen was sparse, but clean. The attached living room was the same; John was betting that the whole house was that way. Jo closed the door to the garage and locked it, then wrapped that odd yellow ribbon on the doorknob and ran a salt line in front of it from a container right next to the door. Once that was done, she walked up behind John again, putting her hands on the cuffs and pushing him forward again, toward the stairs on the far side of the shade-darkened living room this time.
"Up."
John flashed back very briefly to the sweet tones Jo's voice had held when she was a child. Evidently those tones had been replaced by the biting authoritative tones she'd been using on him since she'd found him in the woods. But he allowed her to tell him where to walk; he didn't know where he was or what was going on, so he was still willing to follow her directions.
The handcuffs clicked open and fell from John's wrists, and Jo directed him toward one of the open bedroom doors.
"That'll be yours while we're here. Bathroom's here, clean towels and such under the sink."
John stopped and turned, looking at Jo and carefully keeping his face blank of reaction. "How long are we going to be here, Jo? This sure ain't a motel."
Jo shook her head, her hair falling in front of one eye. "No, this is my place. I don't know how long we're going to be here, so...well, make yourself comfortable, I guess. I'm going to go make a supply run, but I'll be back in twenty minutes or so."
She turned and walked back toward the steps.
"What if you don't come back?" John asked quietly, leaning against the doorjam to his room. "What do I do then?"
Jo hesitated for a second, then kept walking. "Get used to the silence, I guess."