Title: Fields of Paper Flowers
Summary: Jo has become separated from Ellen in the early days of a bleak future. Believing Ellen in danger, Jo makes a desperate deal with Lucifer-possessed-Sam. Too late, she realizes what his terms really mean: she's his. Always his. His to tease, his to torment, his to break.
Disclaimer: Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke. No disrespect is intended.
Notes: FYI, I tend to take characters I like and put them through hell.
She thought he was Sam at first: concerned about her, coaxing details from her, and gentle in tone and manner. He understood her worry about her mom. Sam always did understand about family.
Jo was terrified for her mom. She'd been waiting over a week at the rendezvous point they'd fixed in case they got separated and Ellen had yet to appear. Not only that, but her phone went straight to voicemail. Something had happened, Jo knew it. Sitting around waiting was driving her nuts, but what else could she do? She was exhausted from little sleep, the days blurring together.
It was a relief to have Sam knock at her door. She had no trouble sharing her worries and having someone besides herself worry for Ellen made her feel better. Sam understood everything she was going through emotionally, especially how much Ellen meant to Jo. He knew very well the sort of relationship Jo had with Ellen and sympathized.
They got all the way through dinner and were back in her motel room before he dropped the act. He'd lulled her into a false sense of safety, because really, what girl wouldn't feel safe with Sam looking out for her? When he wasn't possessed he was just that kind of guy.
"Do you ever wonder why that demon brought Sam to you?"
Not 'brought me', but rather 'brought Sam'.
Jo paused in the act of setting her jacket on the end of the bed. She turned to face him, eyes wide and heart racing fast in her chest. Warily, she studied him. He was relaxed in the chair by the table, legs stretched out. She couldn't detect any difference in him. His tone hadn't changed and he still watched her with that patient air. What the hell? This wasn't like Duluth. In Duluth, he'd been just different enough that she'd thought maybe he was drunk or high or something. Here there were no differences. Looked like Sam, sounded like Sam, acted like Sam. Apparently wasn't Sam. "You're not Sam."
"Technically, no. He's in here, Jo, but he sleeps most of the time. It's easier for him that way." He shrugged, an unconcerned lift of wide shoulders. "You can still call me Sam if you like. I don't mind. I know how disconcerting this is for you."
The bag with her demon hunting kit was on the table beside him. By sitting there, he blocked her from both it and the door. Jo had nowhere to go. Even the bathroom window was too small for her to get out. She took a step back from him, fear beginning to steadily rise inside her.
"You don't have to fear me," he said in a soothing tone. "I'm not a demon, so these little trappings you use," he indicated the bag in a languid movement of his left hand, "are useless. I'm not planning to hurt you. In fact, I came because once I heard you and Ellen had become separated I knew you were going to be in some distress about it. I came to help you, Jo."
"How did you hear about that?" She set her jacket down, glance turning about the room, looking for some sort of weapon to use against him. She supposed she could always try using her knife if it came right down to it.
"I keep my ear to the pulse of the world." He spoke in that same calm, gentle tone he'd been using since he'd arrived earlier that afternoon. It never wavered and somehow, that made this situation more frightening.
"What are you then, if you're not a demon?" She could taste her own terror as a metallic tang in the back of her throat and swallowed reflexively to try to make it go away. It stuck there at the base of her throat, like something she couldn't quite swallow past there to gag her.
"In general terms, I'm an angel. In specific terms, I'm Lucifer, a very powerful angel."
"An evil angel. Lucifer is evil." Her hands began to shake, Jo balling them into fists at her thighs. As they spoke, he didn't move from the chair, yet he appeared bigger, as though saying who he was made his physical presence more imposing. She took another step back.
His brows raised. "You'll hurt my feelings talking that way."
"It's my understanding that angels don't have feelings."
Sam…Lucifer shrugged. "Either sit down or leave. We have a couple matters to discuss."
"I can leave?"
"Of course you can leave, Jo. You're not physically restrained. I'll sit right here while you gather your belongings and walk out the door. I won't try to stop you. It's your choice." He cocked his head. "But you might want to hear the things I have to say."
"Not likely." She began to pack, keeping a covert watch upon him from the corner of her eye. He sat in the chair watching her, silent until she'd finished and was taking a last glance about the room for anything she may have missed.
"It sure will be a shame about your mother, though, if you do go before our talk."
She froze in the act of reaching for her jacket. "What's that supposed to mean?" His timing was impeccable.
"Just a comment."
"What do you know? Where is she?" Jo straightened, looking at him with a narrowed gaze.
He sat up, leaned towards her a little, like he was bowing, and indicated the end of the bed with one hand. "Sit. You might as well be comfortable while we chat."
Cautiously, she perched on the end of the bed by her jacket. Jo gripped the edge of the mattress. "Well? Aside from my mother, I can't think of one thing we have to talk about."
"We have Sam, for one. Why did she bring him to you do you think?"
"To use me as bait for Dean."
"Actually, it's deeper than that. Do you recall what she said to you about him? Think back for the exact words she used."
As if Jo could ever forget that demon. "She said 'I could be more to you', meaning he could I guess."
"It should have been 'I will be more to you', because he was programmed to find you. She tapped into that. He was programmed so that I could find you without effort when the time came. I simply chose to find you a bit earlier than I'd planned. To help you. To ease your distress."
Jo frowned, thinking that over. She could think of no reason for this evil angel to find her. None of it made sense. "The time for what? Why would you need to find me? Why would you want to find me? I'm nothing to you."
His expression shifted into one of such sincerity that Jo felt a sudden emotional pull towards him. "No, Jo, you're wrong. You're not nothing. That you should have no sense of your own worth is…well, it's a crime." He stood in one smooth movement and crossed to her, kneeling on the floor before her. One hand rested on her knee, his chest pressed against her legs. "You're a very loyal, loving woman. It's to your credit. You'll fight long and hard for those you love, but here's the thing, Jo. Your mother and Dean Winchester…. I know where they are and it's not looking good for them." He shook his head. "They're hunting together, but their hunt took them to a large pocket of the infected and those sick people are closing in on them."
Jo could see it in her mind. She could see Ellen trying to reach the rendezvous point, working towards it, and unable to call. Maybe her battery was dead or there wasn't a tower, or maybe something was wrong with the tower. It made sense that her mom would work with Dean if she ran across him and if they were both in a position to need help. They had before. Ellen liked Dean a lot. She trusted him to have her back. The scene this angel tossed to her was very likely considering where Jo and Ellen had ended up splitting apart. Small towns were going fast and they'd been in a small town. It was only a matter of time before it hit the cities and then there'd be chaos like nobody's business.
He squeezed her knee, then her thigh. "I can make it go away. I can promise you that they'll be safe, but I can't do it for nothing." A regretful turn to his brow. "There are rules you see. In fact, I would do it for nothing if not for those rules. I dislike having to ask you for anything in return."
"Why would you want to do that for me?" She should go running out the door, but what if he was telling the truth? What if….
"Do you not consider yourself worthy of a favor? Can't I do something for you?"
"In my experience, deals with demons are death." She shifted her weight, legs pinned by his body. No longer could she get up and walk out the door. She'd have to ask him to move back in order to stand.
"I'm an angel, Jo, not a demon."
"What would you want from me for this favor? I mean, I'm not naïve. You want something and it's something big. If you're who you say you are, then I don't see what I could even give…" If he wasn't a demon, then he wouldn't want her soul, right? Angels didn't want souls. Did that include bad angels as well? Jo couldn't think straight. Too many hours awake and too few hours of real deep sleep. Her head ached, temples throbbing with tension. She couldn't seem to bring her thoughts into any real clarity.
Both hands were on her knees, thumbs brushing. "You, of course. I want you."
"You want me to what? For what? Why would you want to find me?"
His smile was slow, warm, and very Sam. Except his eyes. His eyes remained cool, assessing. Sam's face was a mask he was wearing for her, wasn't it? "Even I desire companionship, with all of the perks a human vessel allows. You were chosen as a possibility."
Companionship. Perks. Jo looked away, squeezing her eyes shut. The way he said that…. He meant sex. Why would he want to do that? If he really was Lucifer, shouldn't he be bent on conquering the world and killing all of humanity? Or something like that? Why bother with her at all?
"I'm not a monster, Jo. Our conversations thus far this afternoon have been very civil, don't you agree? That wouldn't change. You've enjoyed my company these hours, at least admit that."
She nodded, a jerking motion, keeping her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to see him there. It was a grudging admission. Jo had enjoyed talking with him, despite now knowing he wasn't Sam.
"Now, about your mother and Dean. You love them both very much. I can see it on your face. You've an understandable closeness to your mother. After all, she was the one who raised you after your dad died. I also know you've had your disagreements and don't we all with our parents? Still you love her so much it hurts to think of losing her. Who will you talk to once she's gone? Who will hold you and understand everything you go through? What will you do knowing she's gone from you forever?" He slid his hands along her thighs, up to her hips and back down. "As for Dean Winchester --"
"He means nothing to me!"
His chuckle rumbled against her legs. "Of course. That's why you still think about him when you're alone and cry in your pillow because he never really noticed you there. Nothing, obviously."
She opened her eyes, trying to blink away the tears gathering.
"I noticed you, Jo. I still notice you," his right hand raised, fingers grazing her cheek, "and I'll treat you far better than Dean ever would. Not that he's ever done very well in that department anyway. Got you in trouble more than anything else. Me? I won't do that. Here's what I'll do for you. The infected will never see you. You'll stand in the midst of their disease and feel not a breath of it upon you. You'll bloom with health. You'll wont for nothing. Dean couldn't do any of that for you. I'll do all that and all you have to do is be my companion when I wish it. Dinner, conversation,…sex now and then."
Was it only her imagination or did his voice pause before saying 'sex'?
"You willing and participating throughout. I'm not asking much from you really. Your free time will be your own and you will have quite a bit of it. The tasks before me will take much of my time. Honestly, Jo, I see our…relationship…as being more friends with occasional benefits than anything else."
"And my mom? What about her?"
"She won't suffer the disease or it's effects on the world. She'll be…safe." A brow raised. "Unlike right this moment."
"Do you promise me she'll be safe?" Demons were bound by their promise. Was he as well?
"Yes. I will promise. I'll be bound by my promise," he assured her, "and I'll even throw in Dean, though you claim he means nothing."
It was to save two lives. Her mom and Dean. Two people who meant the most to her. Both had saved her in the past and now she'd save them. In her exhausted, worried state, everything else was periphery. Jo swallowed hard. She couldn't bear for them both to be gone when she had the means to save them. "Do it now. Save her, save them from them."
His eyes narrowed and he studied her. "You understand what companionship entails?"
"Yes." How hard could it be to turn off her mind during sex? It wasn't like she'd never done that before anyway. And how much could he possibly want? "Conversation, dinner, sex."
"And you agree with the terms as set forth by me?"
His lips twitched as though he was amused. "Sealing this bargain will take far more than a handshake or kiss. It's a tall order requiring a more intimate seal. Are you prepared to accept that seal and all it will take to administer it?"
"I get that. Save my mother. Please!"
He parted her legs, moving closer, hands raising to cup her face. "Tell me that you give yourself to me." The heat of his body washed up her inner thighs.
"I give myself to you."
Her mouth was traced by his left thumb. The touch tickled. "Mmm-mmm. Not quite, Jo. Your full name and my name in the 'I' and 'you' fields. Let's make it crystal clear who this transaction is between."
"You can still walk away," he told her. "Our bargain isn't complete until all the sealing is done." He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, lips parting. Urgency took his gaze when he returned it to hers. "Walking away won't help Ellen. Think fast. She's about to be discovered by those infected. Your window of opportunity to help her is slipping fast. She can hear them approaching…." His brows drew together, an expression she'd Sam use when he was troubled by something.
"I, Joanna Beth Harvelle…"
"Yes?" Anticipation was breathed into that one word, a sense of expectation in the air between them.
"Give myself to you…" Jo closed her eyes, a hot rush of tears bursting forth to slip down her cheeks and onto his fingers. Her lower lips trembled, tongue stumbling on the final part of her vow. "…Lucifer."
Her mother would kill her if she ever found out just what Jo had done to save her life.
He kissed her, a brief caress, his tongue stroking along the curve of her lower lip. "As a show of good faith, I'll take care of her now, before we've fully completed this transaction." He moved back from her. "It's how trust works, isn't it, Jo? I trust you'll complete this."
Jo nodded, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.
"I'll only be a few minutes. Occupy yourself with undressing. We'll finish when I return."
When she opened her eyes, he was gone. Slowly, Jo reached for the buttons on her blouse, popping them open and removing it. Her skin was goosebumped as though the room was chilly when in fact it was warm. She should be sweating from the heat and wasn't. Odd. Setting the blouse by her jacket, Jo stood to take off her shoes and jeans. She felt numb and a little drunk, her fingers fumbling on her belt. By the time she reached her underwear, he'd reappeared.
"She's safe," he told her, putting the chain on the door to the room and crossing to her.
"How do I know you're not lying?"
He reached out one hand, sliding it along her waist until he'd brought it around to her back and could draw her closer. "I won't lie to you. She's in a better locale than she was."
"He's far from them, Jo, almost as though he was never there in the first place."
She pressed her hands to his chest, stopping that steady pull towards him. Jo focused on the top button of his shirt. "What now?"
"You give me whatever I want. Or, I can put Ellen and Dean back where they were if you'd rather and they can die a horrible lingering death?"
The smile that curved his lips was pleased, while his gaze remained cool. "Then let's get started. Show me what those fumbling boys you've lain with have taught you. Then, we'll see what I can teach you."
She couldn't push him away or try to fight like she had in Duluth. This time she'd made a deal and if she didn't comply, he could declare it null and void. Her mother and Dean would be gone, killed by the infected. She wouldn't let that happen.
To her surprise, she wasn't completely repulsed by him, gaining some pleasure. Well, at first. Revulsion came later, as what was left of the day slid into night and he began to move her this way and that at whim. Hours passed. Some of the things he wanted from her made bile rise in her throat and caused involuntary screams she couldn't suppress.
He worked her body until she was a mass of exposed nerve endings, that pleasure from earlier become pain of too much, too fast and just plain pain that didn't end. Still, he continued and she had to participate. After all, she'd agreed to and he could nix their deal until it was fully sealed -- whenever that would be.
Sam woke. Conscious and blind.
First, he felt a warm, pliant female body against his. His hands glided over her skin -- breasts, belly, hips, thighs --, his lips tracing the contours of her face. Her skin was smooth, limbs sleek with muscle. Her belly contracted against his hand, quivering just a little.
Taste returned, the salt of her tears on his tongue. She was crying, cheeks wet. Why did she cry? Her mouth met his, tongue hot and quick, darting and tangling with his. He couldn't tell if she was trying to evade the kiss or deepen it further.
The scents of herbal shampoo and of a lightly musk, floral perfume teased his nostrils. Both together were familiar in a way he should know. Sam knew this woman, but how? He couldn't recall….
He heard the little noises she was making, almost protestations, though she seemed willing enough: her hands caressed him as she was caressed. When she turned her face aside after the kiss, her cheek to his, she sobbed, a great hitching of breath that shuddered her entire body.
Why couldn't he see? And why didn't he seem to be controlling his body?
His mind was fuzzy, nothing much beyond who he was and the immediate things he could feel, taste, smell, hear were clear. There was something major he'd forgotten, but what was it?
Sam covered her body with his. She was petite, slim. He ran a hand along one shapely thigh, hooking it beneath her knee and tugging so that her legs were spread a bit wider. Her back arched, breasts pressing to his chest and hips down away from him.
What am I doing, he thought. That's a refusal even if she's not saying it out loud.
With one hand, he dragged her hips up to meet his downward thrust.
He woke a bit more, vision lightening, the shape of her taking form. Sam could feel his heartbeat fast in his chest and an energy coiling inside him. Anticipation raised the hairs on his arms.
She was a hot, wet heat, body enveloping him as though he belonged there inside of her. Her features were almost discernable….
He saw his hand raise her left arm, place it on the pillow by her head, his fingers gripping tight. Her wrist felt fragile and he wondered if his grip would snap it in two.
And saw Jo Harvelle beneath him. Regret, pain, and terror danced in eyes that had the dark purple shadows of exhaustion beneath them. Her mouth looked bruised, lips swollen, her cheeks flushed. Jo's blond hair was dark with sweat. She was not enjoying this. Perhaps she had once, but not now.
Rode hard, he said to himself. Very hard. Did I do that to her? I must have.
He covered her mouth with his free hand.
Why was she allowing this if she was so afraid?
The last missing nugget of information was frustratingly there and yet out of reach at the same time.
With a final thrust, he spilled into her, the pleasure in that release rolling over him. His eyes closed, Sam still not in control. That weird energy intensified and his eyes opened.
"You're mine now, Joanna Beth Harvelle."
The energy rolled down his right arm, quick as a bowling ball shooting down a lane, dispersing into Jo's left wrist. A second before she started screaming, Sam remembered what it was he'd forgotten.
It wasn't Sam Jo had been having sex with, but rather Lucifer, and she'd apparently made some sort of deal with him.
Sam was forced back into sleep under the angel's will.
His weight pinned Jo to the mattress. One hand forced her left wrist onto the pillow beside her head, the other clamping across her mouth. His fingers squeezed on her arm, palm covering the pale blue trace of veins on her inner wrist.
"You're mine now, Joanna Beth Harvelle." Eyes devoid of human compassion stared into hers as a sharp pain lanced her wrist.
Jo tried to twist, to buck him off. His hold was so complete upon her that all she could do was shake with helpless tremors, attempting to scream. The pain in her wrist began to spread, hot and cold at the same time, a searing agony that slowly and surely engulfed her.
What have I done, she asked herself before her body rebelled from the pain and slid her sharply into oblivion.