Title: Trouble in a Push-up Bra
Chapter: One
Summary: AU. Meg decides to relieve her boredom by playing with Jo, Sam, and Dean.
Rating: M
Disclaimer: 'Supernatural' was created by Eric Kripke. No disrespect is meant with this work of fan fiction.
Notes: Trying my hand at writing something a little longer.

The woman in the mirror was petite and blond. Pretty. Innocent looking, if there was such a thing really. Inconspicuous. Unthreatening. The list could go on and on.

Meg was counting on the boys thinking of her as all those things like they did already. They wouldn't see her coming just like Jo hadn't seen her. She wondered how long she could keep them all distracted.

Meg wasn't her name, not really, but she'd grown rather attached to it. That girl had served her purposes well. She raised a brow, ran her hosts's fingers through the long hair, shook her head. It had been awhile since she'd inhabited a human with really long hair like this. If she recalled correctly, she liked having long hair, but short was ever more practical. This woman though, she had a pretty good body, too. Always a plus. She planned to take advantage of that.

"I know you're awake in there, sweetie. Remember me?" She leaned close to the mirror. "My daddy shot your daddy in the head," she sing-songed, with a tiny little satisfied smile and a giddy giggle. "Oh, good times! Did you think I wouldn't come find you after I got kicked out of Sammy-boy? I liked you, Joanna Beth Harvelle. You showed gumption, trying to brain us with a beer bottle. I couldn't forget that. I couldn't not notice how useful you could be to me."

There wasn't a single thing this woman could do to dislodge her. The boys could though. Dean would probably remember to break the binding link Meg had put on Jo Harvelle like that annoying Bobby had with Sam, but would he even think to look for one? After all, he knew Jo and he was the naughty, naughty horny one of the two brothers, always humping some girl at the blink of an eye, like a dog in heat. What woman didn't want Dean Winchester, sex god in his own mind? Jo had already indicated her willingness to get physical with him.

Meg had gotten a bit smarter on where she put the link this time. No visible spot on the forearm. It was on Jo's hip, covered like a fresh wound. She didn't plan on letting Dean take off that bandage. Tease in a breathless voice about what it was perhaps. Tell him it was a souvenir of a job recently finished -- which in a way it was. She could tell him that what was under the bandage was the precipitator of a fresh outlook on life. But take that bandage off for full disclosure? Nope. She was confident in her ability to distract him if he did focus on the bandage.

And when she was done playing with Dean…. There was more fun to be had with Sam. Meg had learned a few things from and about Sammy-boy in that week inside him. He really did like and care for Jo as more than a friend; thought she was the sort of girl a guy could settle down with and the knowledge that she was infatuated with Dean annoyed him. Why Dean and not him? Why was it always Dean? Seriously, always? Shouldn't there be some sort of odds against that?

As for Dean, he didn't consider Jo a school-girl, not like Meg had said in Duluth. He wanted her. He'd admitted it. It was a true fact and everything.

Both of them wanted to protect her.

There was a reason Meg had gone to Jo when inhabiting Sam. More than one, actually. Both of the boys wanted her, Dean blatantly, Sam secretly. Both wanted to protect her, keep her safe from this life. They'd yet to realize that there was no such thing as safety. It was all an illusion. Hunters liked to think that they had an exclusive ear to the big bad happenings of the world, but anyone at anytime could be made aware of…things.

Sam and Dean could be made to become jealous of the other. Meg was sure of it. Jealousy could be made to turn violent and violence was very good for Meg's morale. Jealousy was such an amusing thing to work with. A glance at a certain time, a touch at another, pointed conversation. It was a skill to bring on jealousy and she wanted to try out her skills, maybe sharpen them up. Even if they didn't come to blows or anything, feelings could fester rather nicely. In the end, it was all good. Well…depending on one's point of view.

As for Jo, there was still work to be done with her. Meg looked forward to completing that work begun weeks earlier. She'd been plotting the moves to make for quite some time now and if everything went to plan, she'd be beyond pleased.

Meg was out for entertainment of her own making now. Screw plans for winning the war, she just wanted to have some fun until time ran out and the final countdown to the apocalypse began. Her run in Sam had been enjoyable until Bobby and Dean had ousted her. Now, Meg was looking forward to amusing herself by toying with Jo, Sam, and Dean all at once.

"We're going to have such fun. You need to have some fun in your life. For a single woman in her twenties, you're damn dull, Jo. But, you know what? I think Sam likes you. Didn't you notice? He's such a quiet boy though. I'm not surprised you never looked at him twice. Dean's the easy one. He's got some potent pheromones. Women like those bad boys and Dean.… Well, let's just say he's not the most discriminate guy. He'll screw any woman with decent tits and ass. Speaking of which…" She peeled off the two shirts Jo had put on before Meg had found her, snorted at the underwear Jo wore. "White? Snooze fest. Where's your sense of sexy, Jo? Please tell me that everything you own isn't Hanes Her Way. We'll have to be doing some shopping if it is." Striding to Jo's bag, Meg rifled through it, finally pulling out a bright red bra and matching panties. The fabric was silky, the bra slightly padded. She uttered a pleased exclamation. "This is more like it. I think they'll like us in red, don't you?"

If something physical happened with either or both, the more the better. Best to dress to please on the outset, right? How far could she push them? At what point would suspicion collide with desire and create rash action that would end in a culmination of her plan for all three of them?

Meg changed underwear and dressed, humming as she did so. She pulled on the low-rise jeans that Jo had set out, drew on a blouse that she left unbuttoned right to the bra, and donned Jo's boots. Carefully, she took every item from Jo's bag, studied them and put them back except one. She held up the pink plastic birth control packet, "Standard clinic issue, I see," tossed it into the trash can. "It's so inconvenient taking a pill every day. I don't think I will." Let Jo stew about that inside. Whatever did her new-found roommate Meg have planned for her? Oh, no…surely not the obvious! She zipped the bag closed. Who cared if Jo got pregnant? Meg would simply haul ass out of her and leave her that way. It'd cause plenty of anguish, especially if Jo was unaware of just which Winchester she'd been screwing around with. Very appealing. "Do you think they're safety boys? I should hope Dean is the way he screws around, but you never know. Could be some amusing surprises in store for you later."

She checked the room for missed items, put her hands on Jo's hips -- hers now.

"You see, sweetie, I've been studying you, watching, waiting, learning. I've decided to be you for awhile." She returned to the mirror. "You're going to thank me, Jo-Jo. Really, you are. You're about to have the time of your life. Sit back and enjoy the ride."

Scooping up the car keys, Meg shouldered Jo's bag and left the motel room, not bothering to check out. On the way to the car, she took out Jo's phone, thumbed through the contacts listed, found the one she wanted and dialed. It didn't take long to set up a meeting.

As terrifying as it was to see the black smoke coming at her, it was far more so to realize it had taken over her body. Jo struggled against the demon's hold, cringing inside her own body at the dirty feeling she now had. She felt like she'd swallowed sewage, leaving a nasty taste and foul residue throughout her body.

Soiled. Unclean.

The link seared onto her hip made the sensation worse.

A wave of exhaustion swept over her.

It was the weirdest sensation to be in her body and not in control. She could feel everything, just not direct movement or speak. If Jo could have screamed in frustration she would have, but nary a sound slipped from her lips by her volition. All she could do was watch and listen.

My daddy shot your daddy in the head.

Oh crap.

It hadn't occurred to her that that demon would come after her and not after time had passed.

Jo shook off as much of the increasing lethargy as she was able, listening to the demon's plans with a growing sense of violation. If she understood it correctly, it intended to seduce both Sam and Dean if it could. Right. Like that was going to work. Good luck, Chuck. The demon had to be lying. They were good at that, mixing lies and truth when they wanted and spouting lies the rest of the time.

So what was truth this time? Anything?

It wasn't going to work. Sam and Dean were going to see right through her in seconds. At least Jo prayed they would.

A haze began to cover her vision and Jo ceased to be aware of what was happening.

Sam dug his phone out, glanced at the number, and frowned as he answered it. Why was Jo Harvelle calling him? She'd never indicated wanting contact before, leaving his calls to see how she was after Duluth unanswered.

"Sam? Hi, it's Jo."

"Yeah, I know. How are you?" 'Jo', he mouthed to Dean, who sat up on his bed with a surprised expression.

"I'm good. Where are you guys?" His reply elicited a pleased murmur. "I'm only a couple hours away. How fortuitous!"

Fortuitous? That didn't sound like a word Jo would use. Sam held the phone from his ear, blinked, shook his head and put it back. She was asking if they'd meet her. "You want to meet us," he asked, partly to have her affirm it and partly for Dean's reaction.

Dean, eyes wide, got up from the bed, holding his hand out and waving his fingers. "Gimme the phone. Let me talk to her." He snapped his fingers impatiently. "Hand it over."

Ignoring Dean, Sam told her their exact location.

"I'll be there in a couple hours. Should I come to your motel then, or do you have some other place in mind?"

"We'll be at the 'Kill 'em and Grill 'em' Diner."

Their was silence for a second and then Jo started laughing. "You're kidding, right? The 'Kill 'em and Grill 'em' Diner?"

"The area is a little…rural," he explained. "A lot of game hunters come through here."

She was still laughing when he hung up. "Jo's on her way."

"You didn't let me talk to her."

"You've got her number. Call her back on your phone." He removed his laptop from it's bag and set it on the table.

Dean looked at him like he was an idiot. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I have to pretend I lost her number." This was said in the sort of tone one used to explain something to a very small child.

Sam lifted the lid of his laptop and booted it up. "Why do you have to pretend you lost her number?" Did he really want to know the answer to that? Knowing Dean, there could be multiple reasons for it.

"There's a slight chance I promised to call her and may have forgotten to after Duluth. She's probably still pissed with me."

"You promised to call her and didn't? Dean…." Sam shrugged. "She didn't sound pissed."

"They never do until you're within throwing range." His gaze shifted a little to the right. "Or shooting range."

"Right." Sam processed that a moment, then turned his attention to the research he was working on. Might as well get some research done while they waited for time to meet her.

Jo was coming on to him. Wasn't she? Sam didn't think he was imagining it.

Her fingers stroked up and down his right forearm, a light touch that could in no way be mistaken for anything but flirtatious.

Sam glanced at Dean, whose brows were raised nearly to his hairline. Jo's playful gestures hadn't been lost on him. Upon entering the diner, she'd completely ignored Dean and greeted Sam with a smile, as though Duluth had never happened and Dean wasn't sitting right there.

"When did I become the Invisible Man," Dean had muttered. "Nice to see you, too Jo."

Jo hadn't even blinked, turning her full attention onto Sam. Maybe she really was mad at Dean, giving him the silent treatment like that.

He'd been expecting a wary reception, maybe some speech about how she wasn't sure she could trust him again, or perhaps a stilted conversation that completely bypassed the elephant in the room. That was not at all the case. She was…talkative.

Dean's brows lowered into a puzzled frown.

No kidding, bro, he thought. I'm a little puzzled by this myself.

Jo flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Look, I know you'd never have attacked me of your own volition. I don't know what I was thinking even entertaining thoughts of you as a violent rapist. I should have realized in seconds you were possessed. Can you forgive me for that assumption?" Her smile was pretty and gaze pleading. "See, I'm not mad at you. I'm not scared of you, because it wasn't you."

"I tried calling. You never answered or called back. I assumed you didn't want to talk about it, at least not with me. I decided not to push it. If you wanted to call, you'd call."

"I did call. Here I am now, ready to talk…and mend our friendship. We're friends, right Sam?"

"Yeah, I thought we were."

Dean tapped a foot in rapid staccato beats on the floor. A quick glance showed him probably a minute away from some sort of sarcastic quip.

Jo glanced at the table and back at Sam. "I had to think it all through. For awhile I was scared. And hurt and confused, but now…I'm not. It's all in the past, right?" Her teeth grazed her lower lip. "Forgive me?"

Forgive her? Sam glanced down now at the hand on his arm. She seemed sincere, but shouldn't he be apologizing to her? "I guess we're good, Jo," he told her.

"Great!" She slid her fingers along his arm one last time before taking his hand in hers. "I really hate being at odds with you both." Her thumb swept across the back of his hand.

At last, a mention of Dean at least. Sort of.

Jo tilted her head a little, eyes widening a fraction.

It wasn't his imagination, he decided. Jo really was coming on to him, which was weird because it was Dean she had the hots for and all three of them knew it. Maybe this was an attempt to get some rise of jealousy from Dean or something? He supposed it was possible, though he hadn't thought Jo the sort of girl to try that tactic.


"Tell me what you've been up to," she said, still ignoring Dean's presence.

"Um…we opened a gate into hell," Sam offered with a shrug.

She nodded. "Yeah, I heard about that one. What else?"

"That's not big enough for you on the activity scale," Dean asked. "You thinkin' maybe we've done something to top that?"

Jo released Sam's hand and sat back in her chair. She turned her head, looking at Dean with raised brows, acknowledging him. "Oh, it's big, but I've already heard about it."

"From who?"

"Oh, just, I don't know, everybody. It's huge news, like epic. Set a lot of things free, didn't you?" There was a little bit of ice in her smirk.

"We had help," he bit out.

Now she touched Dean's arm. "All I'm saying is that I knew about it and what else has there been, okay, Mr. Touchy-pants?"

"Touchy pants?"

Jo grinned.

Sam smothered a smile.

She turned back to him, still grinning. "I'm dying for news, here. Regale me with tales of your adventures."

"Regale you?" Across the table, Dean shifted slightly towards her, made a noisy sniff, shook his head and crossed his arms. "You lookin' for bedtime stories?"

"It's not bedtime, Dean."

"It is somewhere."

Jo leaned towards him. "Does that mean you want to tell me a bedtime story, or just skip the story and go straight to bedtime?"

Sam cleared his throat. Going right to it, wasn't she? Now she appeared be starting to hit on Dean. For a second he thought she was going to say something more, but then she backed down, returning her attention back to him.

"Okay, we'll talk about something else, I suppose."

While she hadn't thought they'd be stupid enough to keep running around without some kind of protection against possession, Meg had hoped they hadn't gotten this smart about it. She could feel the power of the charm flowing across Sam's skin, and Dean's too when she grazed her fingers against his arm.

Tattoos. Had to be. The charm was too integrated in them to be a separate thing. Damn. She'd been thinking how nice it'd be to ride in Dean for awhile, give him something to think about.

A girl could have a lot of fun with these two boys, regardless. Maybe she could flay the skin with the tattoo away and jump inside?

"Is she drunk," Sam asked as Jo disappeared into the women's restroom. "High maybe?"

"You smell anything on her? Booze? Pot?" Dean crossed his arms on the table edge.

"Why are you asking me? You were the one with your nose down her cleavage."

"I was looking at her necklace. She was showing it to me."

"She was showing you something all right," Sam quirked a brow.

Dean's own brows lifted and fell in a shrug. "Jealous?"

He made a scoffing noise, shifted in his chair, glanced around the room and shook his head in denial, "No."

A grin split Dean's features. "Dude, you are so jealous."

Sam scowled. "I am not. It's Jo we're talking about here. Jo."

"Red and lacy, Sammy. Red and lacy."

It was Dean's turn to scowl as Jo got up to go look at the dessert case. "Tell me that was a thong I saw," he demanded, watching the sway of Jo's hips and trying to decide if he could see panty lines or not.

Sam gave him a smug smirk. "Gentleman never tell."

"Oh please. Save the gentleman crap for women. Was that a 't' riding up or what? Come on, Sam I told you about her lacy red bra. The least you can do is tell me about her underwear after she had you groping her ass--"

Sam shook his head. "She hadn't put her belt through that loop," he protested. "I was fixing it for her."

"She could've done that herself. She was asking to be groped. It's gotta be a t-back," he speculated. "Nothing else would fit under those jeans. God bless ultra low-rise. " He thought about that a second. "T-back or nothing. Hmm. Now that raises some --"

"Dean," Sam interrupted his vocal assumption.


"It matches the bra."

"Yeah?' He paused. "But is it a thong or not? These are the sort of important questions that need to be answered."

Sam watched Jo chatting with the cashier a second, then glanced at Dean. "I think I could have done without the tongue piercing discussion."

Dean stared at him. "Dude, you ever been blown by a girl with a tongue piercing?"

"Um…let me think. No."

"It's not an experience you should miss out on. Trust me on this. You'll thank me."

Sam blinked. "Right." He pondered the discussion and Jo. "But why would Jo want to do that?"

"Do what? Blow you or get a tongue piercing?"

He made a face at Dean, who snickered.

"I don't know." Dean shrugged. "She's in an experimentation phase?"

"You wish," Sam snorted.

Dean didn't dispute the charge.

"Come on, Dean. This is Jo we're talking about." Sam looked back at Jo, wondering what was going on. "Granted it's been a long time since we saw her last, but I don't think she'd change this much."

"Maybe she has. Ellen didn't exactly let her run wild, you know."

"Yeah, I guess." Still, something felt off.

"You feeling okay, Jo?" Dean completely gave up trying for subtlety.

"Never better, Dean. You could say I've got a new perspective on life." Her grin was mischievous.

A new perspective? What the hell did that mean? Dean gave his head a little shake. Jo had to be riding some kind of high. The way she was behaving? Wild. Sam was right. Not like her usual self as they knew her.

He watched Sam suddenly sit up really straight, surprise, discomfort, and a hint of need sliding across his features in rapid succession as he glanced down at his lap. His reply to whatever Jo had said was strained, his expression almost…hunted. Dean smirked, resisted the urge to laugh. Jo was groping Sam under the table, her laugh throaty and amused. Way to go, Sammy, he thought. Good thing they were in a dark corner of this dive. A light snicker burst free, Sam shooting an irritated 'I'm glad you're finding amusement at my expense' glare his way.

Jo turned her head to look at him. "So, Dean," she began before her other hand began doing some interesting things under the table in his direction.

"Yeah," he managed, wondering if his expression had just frozen into a deer in the headlights manner like he thought it had.

Very, very interesting things were happening and all the while she had that innocent gleam in her eyes.

"Whatcha been up to? You've been quiet, letting Sam do all the talking. Here I thought Sam was the big, strong, quiet one."

He had to really concentrate on her words. She seemed to know just what she was doing….

Dean started sweating.

Meg couldn't resist making them a little uncomfortable.

Then ramped it up a notch.

"Ice cream?" Jo gestured at the storefront. "My treat." Her voice was coaxing.

Sam was about to refuse, but Dean, with ever the sweet tooth, shrugged.

"Sure. You're buying, Jo, I'm there."

"You can have anything you want," she assured him, touched her tongue briefly to the side of her mouth, then turned her attention to Sam. "Both of you can. Anything at all."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Sam shook his head. "It's twenty-six degrees out. I think I'll pass on the ice cream."

"Your loss," Jo remarked, entering the shop.

Dean hit his arm. "What's wrong with you? Free food."

"It's not free, Dean. Jo's paying."

"Same difference." He snorted. "I don't have to shell out for it, means it's free."

It was warm and fragrant in the shop, the air redolent of vanilla, chocolate, and butterscotch. Sam almost regretted his refusal, but the sight of the monstrous concoction Dean was having the guy behind the counter construct turned his stomach. It'd probably taste good, yet looked like it had been regurgitated. Chocolate sauce, caramel and butterscotch sauce, strawberry sauce, nuts, chocolate chips, all kinds of sprinkles, and more completely covered several scoops of unidentifiable ice cream. Sam bet himself that Dean would have a stomachache later, along with a huge dose of denial as to the cause of that ache.

Jo's eyes widened and she swept her glance down Dean and back up. "Hell on a stick, Dean, where do you put all that food you scarf down?"

"I have a gift," he replied, taking the dish and carrying it to a table.

She looked a little dazed, recovering as Sam watched, and smiling. "Sure you won't have something?"

"Nah, I'm good." Sam turned to join Dean.

"I'll bet you are, honeybunch," Jo murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, yet when he looked back, she was giving her order.


This just kept getting stranger and stranger. It looked like Jo, sounded like Jo, for the most part talked like Jo…yet Sam had the feeling that this wasn't Jo. Her behavior was off. He supposed a new outlook on life could account for that. Or not. He watched her a bit closer when she joined them at the table, working out in his mind what could be causing this change.

The way Jo was licking that ice cream cone was making things a might tight below the belt area. Dean didn't believe for one second that she was oblivious to the reaction he was having -- and Sam and the guy behind the counter too by their enraptured expressions.

Geez, he thought, lowering his gaze to briefly study the remains of his sundae. You'd think Sam had never watched a woman eat an ice cream cone in a suggestive manner before. His mouth was open and Dean would swear he saw a string of drool starting to hang out.

Reaching for a napkin, he wiped his own mouth and chin.

Jo was focused on that cone, enjoying it a little too much for plain ice cream. It was chocolate, but still….

There was a gentle pop, a little slurp, and Jo was done with the cone. She'd managed to suck the ice cream out of the unbroken sugar cone and now showed off that empty cone with a little smirk.

"Now that's an awesome power," he remarked.

"I can tie knots in cherry stems with my tongue, too."

"Huh. How about that?"

Standing, Jo moved to the door, pausing before she stepped out. "You guys coming?"

Nice choice of words, Dean drawled to himself. Intentional? He mulled over her behavior. She was playing games. Nothing wrong with games, just that Jo didn't play games like this. She'd flirt a little, yeah, but nothing like this.

Mentally, he went over possible reasons for this change in established behavior.

PMS? While some women he'd known had claimed to get really horny around that time, he didn't believe that affected anything. Course, he wasn't a doctor, he just played one with women whenever he got a chance.

Drugs? Alcohol? He didn't think either was her thing. Not to excess anyway and certainly not the sort that'd put her in this kind of…what?…mood?

Was she maybe bat-shit crazy? He'd never seen any evidence of that. She was stubborn, determined, sassy…but not crazy.

What else was there? He went down a list of possibilities. Maybe he was getting paranoid, because all he could think about now was one thing and not what she was intending: possession. If she was possessed, this was going to be a bitch to take care of.

"We'll…uh…" Sam cleared his throat. "We'll be right there."

The door closed and they watched her cross the street to their cars.

"Now I'm sure she's messing with us." Sam pointed in Jo's direction.

"Of course she's messing with us. She's a woman. That's what they do."

"No, I mean messing with us. That's not Jo out there, Dean. I think she's possessed."

He picked up his bowl, stood and dumped it in the trashcan on his way toward the door. "You just now figuring that out? A little slow today, aren't you Sammy?"