make it later.

                      ❛    trust me, i know. i’m SHOCKED you didn’t                             slam the door shut on my foot. that would’ve                             been the JOJO i remember. y’know, from when                             we were married. or did you completely erase                             that from your memory ?    ❜

in the years since a NOT TOO CLEAN split, his substance habits had spiraled straight out of his ‘ control ‘ and to hell. even before ( having a servant ) drive him over here, he’d popped more than several pills from an unmarked bottle. they all did the same thing to him anyways, what was the point in the difference between ?

at least they made his hands stop shaking. and curve his need for cigarettes. SLIGHTLY. just enough that he didn’t CURRENTLY stink of tobacco and ashes. perhaps this new habit would be subtle enough to go unnoticed, and he’d be able to convince her that behavioral rehab had been as efficient as she always yelled about.

he’d never even gone.

       jo has to fight the need to roll her eyes && instead opts to break eye contact, focusing in on the fern sitting by the door. the split itself was bad enough, but now he has to make it worse by showing up? what does he hope to accomplish? she has an idea, it’s always something that would benefit him, leave her wanting again, yearning for something they can never have. he’s done this time & time again with the same results. why does he expect anything different?

     “ you got a lotta nerve coming here. did i not make it clear enough that i never wanted to see you again? “

    ‘ motel six. lincoln park. y’know, couple o’       miles from the roadhouse. i was goin’ to       stop by and visit, but ━━━━ somethin’       came up. ‘

the news had been hard enough to break to HIMSELF, he hadn’t been able to muster up the courage to let the words tumble out. not to ellen, not to jo. it still didn’t feel REAL to dean. before she had a chance to speak again, the phone was clicked shut and tossed across the minuscule, dusty motel room. if she were coming, she’d get here eventually. until then, IF there was a then, he was to be buried in a grave of BLANKETS and PILLOWS.

                    “ is every- “

   she knows he’s gone when she’s greeted with the dial tone instead of his voice. with how he was acting lately towards things, that wasn’t surprising. bringing a slender hand up to her face, she rubs her eyes, only stopping when stars begin to dot her vision. jo slides out of her chair and grabs her jacket, the leather sleeves cool against her arms when she slips it on.

   she calls out to her mother, saying she doesn’t know when she’ll be back and snatches the keys off the hook behind the bar. dean’s been distant and she’s been worried. that wasn’t really anything new, but she’s noticed it’s gotten worse lately.

   the old station wagon sputters to life with the turn of a key and jolts forward with a step on the gas. jo’s familiar with the motel. she would go there whenever she and her mother had a particularly nasty argument just to cool off for the night. she’d been lost in thought throughout most of the drive and when she finally notices the old motel six sign on the side of the road she pulls into the parking lot.

  one hasty parking job and a slammed door later, she’s in front of his room, knuckles rapping on the wooden door.

   ‘ alright, alright. a real MAN never goes back      on his word, right ? yeah ? ‘ his eyebrows      were raised in a humorous fashion. or at      it was funny to him. hilarious, even. it took      several moments for him to collect himself      back into SERIOUSNESS. and then a careless      arm knocked his milkshake over ( or whatever      minuscule mixture of oreo crumbles and liquidy      milk was remaining ) onto his t shirt.

    ‘ shit. ‘ eyeballs are rolled nearly back into the       skull before he removes a card from his beat       leather wallet and tosses it onto the table toward       her. ‘ pay, would ya? ‘nd if anybody asks, you’re       mrs. faber. i gotta go wash this off. alright ? ‘

    “ sure thing, sweetheart. “

     { the ROUGHEST year in a man’s life was the      first year without someone he’d never expected      to live WITHOUT. now, everyone handles their own      grief in a different way. dean’s method of choice was      to simply shut down, to turn off. he would go to a dark,      empty place where the world couldn’t find him, and where      he couldn’t find the world. he was raised with a shotgun      under his bed, and one specific instruction above all else:         PROTECT SAMMY.      how the hell was he supposed to face his father now ? what      could he even say ? their family was already broken up enough,      and yet he’d divided it nearly double. it all HAPPENED when the      impala was SIDE SLAMMED by the truck. dean had already been      pretty bashed up from their hunt, and that added insult to injury:      literally. he was supposed to DIE in that hospital, and everyone had      been shocked when he woke up, unscathed.               sam had made a deal.       he knew he was taking this out on jo. he’d barely said a word to her in       a week, and whenever she’d gotten close he shrugged her away. it wasn’t       right. and deep down, dean knew that; but he felt shattered. a cell phone -       the cheapest one that a gas station could offer him - was clutched tight       and shoved against his ear. after several rings, a soft & familiar voice lit      up the line. }

        ‘ could you come here ? please ? ‘

   the familiar buzz of her phone against the table takes her away from her current task of putting together research for a hunt she’s about to take. without taking any time to read who it is, she flips it open and brings it up to her ear.

         “ this is jo. “

               ( could you come here ? please ? )

   he doesn’t even have to say who it is. she already knows. she exhales through her nose, leaving a moment of silence between them & glancing at her work one more time before finally speaking. a part of her hates that she’s so willing to go to him even after the way he’s treated her lately. but her BLEEDING heart always gets the better of her.

    ‘ i know, right ? what would they EVER do       without us ? it’d be a mess. and to believe       people are still telling their kids that there’s       stupidity behind being afraid of the dark !       sure, be afraid that there’s something in your       closet. i mean, there probably is. ‘

his MILKSHAKE is slurped down as fast as he had inhaled his pie, and he clutches his temples with two stiff fingers. dean clearly didn’t have such a great plan, as he was now DYING from a brainfreeze.

    ‘ you got the bill or should i ? ‘

she takes her time drinking her own, most likely not even going to get to finish it at the rate dean was going with his. the blonde keeps her smile to herself once she sees her partner faced with the one and only true downside of drinking a milkshake.

   he was quiet for a long time, and a ragged heartbeat was    leaving a sickening echo within his own eardrums. the very    corner edges of his lips turned downwards, and then back to    a neutral expression. scarred palms moved to rub roughly at    his face before it was turned to face jo’s.

   ‘ i know, i know. yeah. i’m sorry. jus’ forget about it, alrigh? ‘

    words were slurred through the cacophony of liquor he’d downed     nearly an hour prior. and at this point, he just wanted to sleep. dean     could hardly hold his eyes open, and they stared sleepily at those of     his girlfriend.

   ‘ hey, we’ll be jus’ fine. ‘

                 “ i know... “

  she can tell he’s not in the most sober state of mind right now, most likely due to the empty bottle of whiskey lying on the floor. the best option for them right now is to SLEEP this off. after a gentle peck to his lips, the hand on his face drops to her side, and then eventually takes his hand again.

                   “ let’s go to bed. “

    his voice raised enough to be filled with annoyance,     and a pang of HURT, but not RAGE. he tried his best     to never get angry with her, and the furthest he ever     got was mildly annoyed. still, he was monotone and     LOUD.

‘ maybe that’s just HOW I AM, jo. ever even  considered that ? I CAN’T let people in. not  living the way i do. there’s demons, and lucifer,  and god KNOWS what other crap on my ass  every hour of every day. it’s better if i just KEEP  IT TO MY DAMN SELF. i’m sorry that BOTHERS  you, but i have to. OKAY ? i’m sorry. i figured if  anyone could understand, it’d be you.     JUST SHUT UP.       please.‘ and with that, his voice fell small.

  her jaw clenches so tightly her teeth start to ACHE. she’s tired of having the same argument again & again. jo wishes he could see himself the way she sees him, as a kind & NOBLE man whose done nothing but good things for the world around him.

  she knows arguing with him isn’t going to get them anywhere good, but she also knows herself too well and knows this won’t be the last time she brings it up. once again, she rises from her seat to be near him, setting herself down on the couch thigh to thigh. jo brings a hand up to his stubbly face & tries to express as much LOVE as she can in one simple touch.

    ‘ oh, it was GREAT. some kid saw his neighbor       vanish. thought it was some kinda reaper or       somethin’, but it was really just a crazy bunch       of hillbillies that’d take polaroids of the people       they hunted. weirdos. ‘

when the waitress returned yet again, he ordered two milkshakes. one for each of them. the predictable dean move would’ve been to order one and share it, but he REALLY wanted that oreo ice cream.

     ‘ there sure are some freaky sons of bitches there. ‘

  ghosts, demons, vampires, sure. she can handle that. but people hunting people? she’d rather leave that to the police. or the FBI. doesn’t really fit her job description,

           “ jesus... good thing there’r people like us, huh?                                    savin’ everyone’s sorry asses. “

    ‘ if you want to talk so bad, then let’s talk.       say whatever you have to say, okay ?? ‘

his voice was more hesitant and withdrawn than usual, and just a smidgen away from hostile. dean hated feeling backed into a corner, especially when he knew that there were SO MANY THINGS they had swept under the rug in the last several months. but, it was bound to creep out at some point. this was inevitable. dreary, tired eyes lifted themselves to glare at her from the beat sofa. the hunter was very visibly tense at the discomfort of waiting for her words.

           “ you refuse to let anyone help you. ever. you carry so much shit you don’t have to. “

  whenever she brings this up he always shuts her down so quickly. not this time though. she’s tired of watching him HATE himself over something he can’t CHANGE. in her book, dean winchester is the definition of self loathing. his harsh gaze doesn’t faze her, she’s undeterred when it comes to this.

  “ you blame yourself for every bad thing to ever happen to     anyone you care about. none of it’s on you. every shred of     JOY you’ve ever gotten you’ve SABOTAGED. you’re so keen     on believing you don’t deserve to be happy! “

      ‘ whatever. forget about it. it’s not important.         i’m not goin’ to fight about us tonight, jo. ‘

there he goes again. CLOSING OFF emotionally. dean began to notice his hands shaking, and collapsed onto the couch with a heaving sigh. his head was lowered to be supported by rough hands.

        ‘ i just wish my life could’ve been different,           sometimes. it’s so difficult to get up every           single day and fight the world. but at least           we help other people, i guess. ‘

  a clenched jaw brings a SHARPNESS to an otherwise soft face. she understands why he feels the need to stay emotionally VOID, but it still bothers her. brown eyes stay on their joined hands until he pulls away. then they find their way to the ceiling, head hanging over the back of the chair. jo hears him settle on the couch, only bringing herself to look when she hears him speak.

                  “ i don’t want to fight either dean. but i do want to talk. “

    ‘ hey, i’m a dude. it happens.  y’know,       usually it’s sammy that’s tellin’ me that. ‘

a fork wastes no time before being dug deep into the steaming slice of godlike delicacy. once he takes the first bite, the whole thing is gone within a minute or two. with that, he neatly folds his hands upon the table in front of him, like a GOOD little boy in FIRST GRADE.

     ‘ i hope we’re up against another family of those       rednecks that hunt people like they’re deer. it’s       twice as fun as a demon, because they really       are just crazy. you ever seen one of those ? ‘

  it’s pretty impressive how fast the food in front of him is GONE. jo, on the other hand, spends time pushing her eggs around with her fork, taking a slice of bacon between her fingers and crunching it between WHITE teeth. her eyebrows raise at his statement, a light chuckle leaving her mouth. she seems to be laughing a lot more since being around him. she likes that.

     his throat was still RAW and BURNING from the empty      bottle of jack daniels that was now on its side on the floor.      compared to other people when they were drunk, he never      really went wild: he was a mellow alcoholic. all it ever made      him was reminiscent.

‘ is it, jo ? is it, really ? we’re never  gonna be able to just be NORMAL. ‘

         “ you think i came into this expecting things to be normal? we hunt                 MONSTERS, dean. we are the farthest thing from NORMAL. “

  it’s never been smooth sailing for them anyway. they bicker constantly, always trying to one up the other or just give each other the SILENT treatment over the stupidest reasons. but that’s what makes them GOOD. she doesn’t care if they don’t fit the normal “couple status”, she just cares about HIM.

        his GRUMPINESS aside, dean was actually         excited. he refused to speak at the present         moment, due to previously mentioned grump,         and thus he jerked the menu from the table.         it covered his face, but emerald eyes peeked         just over the top every few moments to glance         at her from across the booth.

        a brunette waitress ( who happened to be dressed         in a rather skimpy uniform ) stepped up to their table.         a familiar warm smile was relit upon the hunter’s face,         and a thick porcelain plate with a thick slice of apple         pie was set down before him. a friendly thank you was         nodded towards the worker before he handed her the         menu.

‘ you’re right. i mean, yeah, it ROYALLY SUCKS that  my baby got a flat, but it’s not the end of the world.  you sure that tow truck dude will be here soon ? we  don’t have forever to get to this case. ‘

deep brown eyes skim across the menu, taking in the names of breakfast dishes. she figured she’d go for the CLASSIC today. no stress eggs ’n bacon. just liked they’d discussed earlier. she flags down the waitress and quickly puts her order in. she can feel his EYES on her every few seconds, just peeking over the top of his laminated menu.

                    “ somethin’ on my face, winchester? “

  a shit eating grin spreads to the corners of her mouth accompanied by a LIGHT chuckle from the back of her throat. when greeted with a plate of food, her smile turns to the waitress, who she thanks. she also doesn’t MISS the glance dean gives her as she walks back towards her post at the counter. something between a snort and a laugh leaves her body at that.

   OF COURSE dean wanted to be what    jo wanted. what she needed. he’d walk    to every end of the earth if it meant that    he could benefit her greater good. but it    wasn’t realistic, at least SO FAR. with a job    like his, being raised as he was, dean felt    more like a WARRIOR than a HUMAN. he    would never let himself be vulnerable, in    any way: emotionally, or physically. and this    was what had kept him alive, thus far. when    it came to his relationships, though, he never    quite cut it. it was his relation to a circus lion,    too clumsy and missing every hoop he’d been    trained to jump through. if he couldn’t do it,    why could all the other lions do it ? why was it    so IMPOSSIBLE for him to let his heart be loved ?    deep down, he knew why. he was damaged goods.

‘ i’m sorry. i am. for everything. you don’t DESERVE this. ‘

                 “ stop it. “

  every now & then he goes down this same spiral, drowning himself in his own personal cocktail of of WHISKEY and self loathing. with an inhale, she settles down next to him at the round wooden table in the middle of the room, taking his hands, ROUGH and calloused from years of wear and tear. her eyes settle on where they touch, trying to think of a good way to help him out of this mind set.