Comfort [Jo/John, table 01: Elemental]
Title: Comfort
Author: highlandemma
Character(s)/Pairing: Jo/John
Theme: Prompt Table Theme 1: Elemental
Prompt: #18: sight
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.
A clock somewhere in the house chimed seven times; John heard and counted every one, staring into his orange juice like he was trying to see every atom in the glass. Jo stood up smoothly, taking their empty plates to the sink. John broke out of his reverie and swallowed the juice quickly, standing up and reaching for more dishes to help with the cleanup.
Jo waved him off. "Later, John--leave them. I'm exhausted, you're exhausted... Time to sleep."
John yawned just after Jo did and realized she was right. "Second door on the left."
"Yup," she confirmed, turning him toward the stairs firmly and following behind him. "I'm at the end of the hall if you need anything--anything you didn't find when you searched the place while I was gone, anyway. Make yourself at home."
John kept moving, but the word "home" unsettled something deep in the pit of his stomach. "Home" meant Mary, four year old Dean, six month old Sammy, Lawrence, Kansas. "Home" was something he hadn't had for so long that he wasn't sure what the word meant--not without his family.
Jo left her hand on his back as they climbed the stairs, and she felt something shift within him when she told him to make himself at home. Probably a memory, something to do with a long time ago...from his first life, with his family. she winced a little, but kept walking behind him, keeping her hand where it was.
They both paused at the first door on the left. John turned and glanced toward Jo, avoiding her eyes.
"Thanks, Jo."
Jo let her hand smooth down his back and over to his arm,squeezing gently. "No problem, John. See you later." She let her hand fall away and made her way down the hall to her room. She felt his eyes on her every step of the way, but she didn't turn.
Some time later, something woke Jo out of the first real sleep she'd had in what felt like months. She lay still for a few seconds, waiting for whatever it was to repeat itself so she could assess the situation.
It sounded like a muffled shout, like someone yelling into a pillow to keep from being heard. Problem was, in a house this small and a neighborhood this quiet, Jo could hear almost everything. She slid from her bed and threw her robe around her shoulders, then padded softly down the hall to John's room. The sound repeated, and she opened his door without knocking or hesitation.
John lay on his stomach on the bed, covers thrown haphazardly from his body, his face buried in one of the thick pillows. His whole body trembled violently, caught in the throes of a dream.
The sight propelled Jo across the room quickly and she climbed onto the bed, putting a hand on John's back. He started violently up from the pillow, slapping Jo's hand away and shooting a hand out to grab her neck. Jo moved just as quickly; she grabbed his wrist and hit the pressure point she knew would make his hand go numb and let her go. It worked almost instantly, before John's fingers had time to bruise their prints into her neck.
They stared at each other, frozen, neither of them knowing what to say. But when tears slipped out of the corners of John's eyes, Jo reached out to wipe them away with her fingers.
"It never goes away, Jo," John rasped, his body still shaking from the dream. "Hell...burning...pain...God, please...make it stop!"
Jo felt tears sting her eyes, and she was glad there wasn't enough light for John to be able to see her reaction. He needed comfort, not commiseration. Besides, Jo didn't know what Hell as really like, other than the little she'd heard from various places in the hunting community. And she knew most of that was bullshit anyway. Dean didn't talk about it.
John took a shuddering breath, grasped Jo's wrist with his good hand, and pulled her to him until she lay beside him. He put his head on her shoulder tentatively, as though afraid she would push him away. Jo smoothed her hand through his hair and whispered things like "I'm here" and "you're okay, John" when he started to sob quietly.
John finally fell asleep with his head pillowed on Jo's stomach, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and his legs curled and tangled with hers. Jo fell asleep just after he did, her hand still in his hair.