Title: Last Exit to Eden
Author: Vee017
Beta'd by: Munibunny
Genre: Apocalypse, angst, het, squinty wincest
Warnings: past off-screen character death mentioned, implied past attempted non-con
Setting: futurefic, AU
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Jo
Summary: They travelled in daylight. Or what was left of it.
Spoilers: Seasons 2 and 3
Word Count: 4,418
Status: Complete
Note: Written for vinylroad for LJ's spn_holidays 2007 round.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I'm just playing pretend.

They travelled in daylight. Or what was left of it. The sky remained a dull, dead grey that reflected the ruins of what the world had become. It was as if nature itself, had given up all hope that a once fruitful world could ever be salvaged.

Cities that had once been home to millions had been left abandoned. The buildings felt hollow, empty of all life, all movement. Broken down cars sat in the streets, unmoving; their doors wide open, windshields smashed in, and in some instances – crushed.

Papers fluttered in the cold wind, empty bottles rolled across the street. Pieces of clothes ripped from luggage cases, a small teddy bear lay alone on the sidewalk.

Blood coated the streets.

Smears of it, dried puddles, spatter across the sides of buildings, blood laid out across the road as if in offering.

But no bodies.

There were never any bodies.

"Scavengers?" asked the woman.

"Their hunger doesn't end," replied her companion.

Jo wrapped her jacket tighter around her body as the wind picked up again. It was a sharp, frosted chill. A warning that fall was ending, and winter fast approaching. They had to be further south before that happened; they were already too close to No Man's Land as it was.

Demonic populations were higher in the north. Jo always thought it was to offset the heat of Hell, that now with the option, the demons preferred the cold.

She watched Sam open the gas tank on one of the abandoned cars. It was a re-fuelling trip, and the lack of pumps in any of the small towns they passed – destroyed, fire, ash - forced them to pull into a city. She was already holding two cans of gas. Sam had two of his own and was busy filling a third. Most of the empty cars were good for it if they hadn't been raided yet.

She looked around at the broken glass littering the pavement, storefronts destroyed by human or monster she'd probably never know.

Not that she'd want to. It was dumb luck that she'd been in a small town the day the world ended. An absolute miracle when Sam had found her months later, or had it been a year? Time was meaningless now. They learned to look up at the sky, at the shadows, to determine what the day would bring, and how long until nightfall. It wasn't like there were working clocks around anymore either.

The world before the massacre, that world had broken with a resonating scream.

Panic and chaos had littered the streets of cities, panic quick and widespread as demons by the thousands, hundreds of thousands had raced towards freedom and through the populations - drove humanity to its knees.

Sam capped the gas can. They were ready to move.

He never knew what caused it. What demon brought on the apocalypse or if it was just something random; didn't know if this was humanity's trial, if anyone else was going to step in to help, if it was the End of Days and the Book of Revelation coming to pass. Would there be a Second Coming, or would demons purge the earth of humanity – owning it forever?

He carried three tanks of gas, two in his hands, one under his arm. They had left the truck a few blocks away. It had taken a while to fill up the cans, they'd burned daylight, and now they had to move. They were always moving.

The humans that had survived moved too, never staying in one place. Humanity had once again become nomadic, those who could handle the lifestyle. Some groups were friendlier than others, most were scared and hungry; they'd kill without thought, without mercy. There were those who had become animals.

Sam and Jo both tensed at a soft clatter. The shadows on their right lost their empty edge.

"Walk faster."

Jo had to take twice as many steps to keep up with Sam's long strides, but she did so willingly. The sound could have been nothing, the wind knocking something over that was precariously balanced, but they couldn't take the chance. There had been too many close calls before, even when they were careful. Speed and alertness were top priority.

Sam could feel the weight of the Colt against his back. The pack of weapons Jo carried on her back was half open for easy retrieval if they needed them.

But with full hands, and added weight it would be a challenge to leave with all they had come for. Some of the gas would have to be sacrificed to get out in one piece if it wasn't just the wind.

His hands were going numb in the chill. They had to get out. Out of the city limits and as far as possible before nightfall. Find someplace out of the way to hole up again until morning. Keep everything off their backs for one more night. To survive.

It's what Dean wanted him to do.

To live.

But Sam didn't think post-apocalypse was what his brother had in mind.

"I don't hear anything else."

He looked over at Jo as they moved. He could hear the shiver in her voice; the air was steadily getting colder.

"There's something here," said Sam. "It's getting too cold too fast for anything natural."

Their breath formed puffs of white air as they exhaled.


Glass cracked, pavement shifted.

"Run! Get to the truck!"

They ran as fast as they could, rounding out the last block as glass shattered over their heads, they ended up losing two of the gas cans in order to increase their speed. Office windows blew out high above them, the steel wells and joints groaned in tight protest, as metal bent and strained.

More glass exploded around them, much closer this time on the ground level. Pieces flew at all angles, cutting into skin. They ducked and kept running. This was one of the reasons Sam hated cities. The dead were angry. They were restless. And in a city of what was once half a million, you never knew how many stayed around. Vengeful spirits had never been more dangerous.

"Sam, get down!"

He ducked in time to have a slab of concrete sail passed his head. It shattered in smoky chunks as it hit the curb.

They hit the pavement running. Reaching the truck, they threw the cans into the flat bed and wrenched the doors open. Sam shifted the key hard in the ignition, threw the shift in gear, and tore out of ground zero as fast as he could.

Odd objects pelted the truck, leaving dents in the steel frame, and scraping off faded paint.

"Are they ever going to learn it's the demons they should attack?" railed Jo, breathing hard and clutching around her stomach.

Sam glanced at her doing a quick once over, like he used to do with John and Dean. She was a bit cut up, a little worse for wear, but not any worse than he was.

Looking forward again, his heart lurched, and he reacted.

Jo yelled in surprise when Sam grabbed her by the neck and forced her to duck into his lap. A metal rebar came crashing through the front window, impaling the seat where Jo's chest would have been.

She turned and watched it with wide eyes, hand gripping Sam's thigh tight.

Spider cracks fanned out across the windshield encompassing wide around the piece of broken off metal. With that last bit of spite, the air settled outside of them. The spirits once again roaming blindly in what was once their bustling metropolis.

"Well," Jo coughed. "That's another city to mark off the map."

"Yeah." Sam ran a hand through her hair, knocking out stray pieces of broken glass. "Are you okay?"

Sitting up carefully, Jo stayed pressed close to Sam. They sat thigh to shoulder, with Jo glancing over unsteadily at the piece of metal that nearly killed her.

"Fine," she said. "Nothing more than from the initial onslaught."

Her arms were bleeding, but it was drying to her skin just as quickly. She could feel the dull pounding of her heart as it beat in time with her cuts. Looking at Sam, he had a gash near his hairline, blood trailed down the side of his face. The rest of him was just as bad or good as she was, if she wanted to call them lucky.

His right arm stayed wrapped around her shoulders, as if he held her close enough they might merge into one and he could keep her protected. Jo rested her head on Sam's shoulder and watched the city slowly disappear around them. It eventually gave way to the long stretch of broken blacktop and stalled cars that had become the standard.

Sam's body was tense as he drove on the freeway out of Denver. There was no way that they would have the time to make it into New Mexico by nightfall, it was already coming too close, too fast. The days never seemed to have the same amount of daylight as they previously did. Or maybe it was just that the grey blanket glazed permanently across the sky let the dark come faster, not needing to wait anymore for the sun to truly set.

They made it as far south as Manitou Springs when the sky fault-lined red. Grey and red, fade to black. It'd been years since they'd seen blue sky.

They drove in silence, scanning the surrounding areas. A small place in the countryside was safer than inside any old urban area. Anything on the outskirts of a town or city would do just fine.

Sam turned his attention when Jo pointed towards a house a few miles before they hit the small city. It would be good enough. All they needed was one room, sigiled and protected, and they were good. The house would be empty as they all were, unless the occupants had been hunters. It had been at least a month since they'd seen another human anyway. It was disconcerting.

The gravel road he turned onto was dried and bumpy. Snow and rain had washed the gravel aside and left potholes that grated the tires. There was no doubt that they were going to need another vehicle. Maybe the original owners of the house they were driving towards had left another truck lying around.

An old ache started up in Sam's chest. He remembered the day he was forced to abandon the Impala; and fuck had that hurt. One of the last pieces of Dean he had left, and like him, she was gone too. Stuck somewhere under a mudslide in Mississippi; her tires had stuck and turned in her ruts, churning out mud and water - not moving. He'd barely had time to pull what he needed from the trunk before the Impala was half buried, the black dogs bearing down on his position.

The Impala hadn't been built for off road cross trekking, which in the beginning had been safer to use. Roads less travelled or even no roads at all were vacant of the terrified masses trying to run.

The next three vehicles after the Impala was lost had all been trucks. Higher off the ground, larger spans, 4-wheel drive; they got the job done. And now with the loss of another windshield, he'd be looking for another vehicle. Though it would be the first, he supposed, that he'd be picking one out with Jo. Not that she'd care, as long as it moved.

The gravel crunched under the tires as he eased off the gas and pressed the brakes. Jo put it in park, and turned off the ignition, keeping Sam's arm from moving off her shoulders. They sat there together, staring up at the two-story brick house.

Squeezing her shoulder, Sam opened the door and got out, keeping it wide for Jo so slide out behind him. Bag of weapons unzipped, shotguns and Colt at the ready, they made their way into the house for a perimeter safety check. If it all panned out they'd be staying the night. If they were sharing the house with something, then the salt lines and sigils would have to hold. The red sky started to blaze dark. There was no time to be picky.

They'd pulled everything from the truck into the house's living room. Weapons laid out for cleaning in the morning, bags of non-perishable food and what little clothes they had left sat nearby, and the sleeping pallets and sleeping bags were rolled out in front of the fire place, fire going strong inside keeping them warm for the night.

The doorway between the living room and hall had a sliding door attached. They had shut it tight and barricaded it with whatever furniture was left.

Sigils and protective symbols covered every wall representing north, east, south, and west. Salt lines lay in unbreakable tracts along every wall foundation, and a smaller circle of salt within those confines circling Sam and Jo.

"I didn't see any cars out there," said Jo. She dipped the cloth into more iodine and dabbed it over the cut on Sam's shoulder blade.

"Me neither. Whoever lived here probably tried to get away."

They'd found the back end of the house smashed up. Back door kicked in, ruined kitchen, there was more blood upstairs; bloodstained sheets and nail scratches in the headboard. It had made Jo shudder violently.

"Think the neighbours went crazy?"

"Could have been. Something happened here."

The EMF reader showed nothing. If anyone had died in this house, they hadn't stayed around.

"Family could have gone crazy," said Jo. "Body might have attracted scavengers."

"Yeah. I hate running into those things."

Jo nodded behind Sam, and started to apply the gauze, she hated them too. The scavengers had come after the end. Skinny, emaciated creatures that walked awkwardly on four legs; eyes - a soulless opaque, their faces boned and gnarled, teeth that shone like knives glinting in their permanently grinning faces. They ate everything they found, an appetite that would never be appeased; their skeletal bodies never filling out, cursed with an eternal hunger, eternal starvation.

"Do you think that's why we haven't seen anybody?"

"It could be," said Sam. "Those who haven't learned to escape and evade. We're pretty far north right now too."

Jo reached into the med kit for more gauze, and took a deep breath. "Do you think Bobby made it?"

The unspoken question hung in the air.

"The last time I talked to him, he was with your mom. If anyone could make it out, it's them."

Jo breathed deep. "Yeah."

As soon as the last piece of gauze was taped into place, Sam turned and pulled her onto his lap. Her arms laced automatically around his neck as they pressed tight to each other, Sam's arms strong and secure around her waist and back. He was mindful of her own taped up cuts as he held her.

It always surprised Sam how small Jo was. Tiny and compact, so much smaller than any of the women he'd been with in the past. It was like touching glass, afraid he might break her if he pressed too hard. But she was sturdy. So strong for such a little girl. A little woman. His hands were huge on her; they encompassed both sides of her waist as he trailed them up along her body. Touching the curve of her hip, his lips trailed along the dip and slope of her neck.

"They'll be fine." Whispered assurances always in the air.

"Why did the world have to break?"

Sam kissed her neck and buried his face in her hair.

Why did a lot of things happen?

Why did Azazel choose him?

Why did he destroy Sam's family?

Why did he lose his mother, Jess, his father… why did he lose Dean? His year hadn't even been up. It had been a demon. It had thrown him through a wall. He landed wrong. His last words to Sam were that he could see mom and dad.

Sam held Jo tighter.

Hell hadn't claimed Dean's soul. He was promised a year, but died as naturally as a hunter could before that year. His soul was fair game. Sam guessed mom and dad won, they'd never rest if they didn't. It was his lone consolation in the months that followed.

And then the world ended, and nothing mattered anymore.

Nothing until he found the woman in his arms again. Nothing until he found a reason.

His hands travelled across Jo's breast, and moved to find the clasp of her bra. It had taken them a long time to touch. To find comfort in each other against the world. He'd found her by accident, decided to follow the commotion. Breaking, swearing, and yelling. She had been fighting off two men.

Jo's hands were warm against his back, and she trailed them along his spine.

She'd been wary that day. Her attackers later disposed of between them, she'd been half naked and bruised, but still ready to fight with everything she had. The last time she had seen Sam, he had been possessed. Meg had used his body to overpower her easily. Jo was so small compared to him.

How she could let him touch her now, caress her…Sam was grateful she could see him, him and not Meg.

He pressed her close, so close, he needed to be close. To feel; she made him feel again after he'd been dead inside for so long. Since Dean.

Her lips sought his. In some ways, Jo reminded him of Dean. The shape of her eyebrows, shape of her face, the fullness of her lips, the spark inside her.

Sam's tongue met hers wetly, chasing it into her mouth, running over teeth and palate.

How had they come to this?

Two solitary hunters, crushed by the weight of a fallen world, torn from everyone they knew and loved.

They'd been alone. Alone for so long. How long had they been apart? How long had they been together? Days bled unto eternity.

Sam slid a hand up to cup a generous bare breast, his mouth and tongue sucking and nipping across her face, her collarbone. His thumb teased a nipple until it was taut and peaked under his ministrations, his mouth roaming down to capture it with his lips.

Jo's breasts were gorgeous. Full and beautifully rounded, in a few more months he imagined them spilling out of his hands. Her nipple fell from his lips as he ran the flat of his tongue over it. He could hear her gasps above him, the sweetest sounds in his life – his name from her lips sounded like prayer, like benediction. She'd given him back his faith.

Underwear awkwardly removed, they curled back up around each other. Jo on her knees above him; Sam's hands stroked the insides of her thighs, fingers parting her folds and testing the wetness between.

Jo sucked in a breath when Sam grazed her clit. She was swollen for him, wet and aching. She could feel her muscles contracting, wanting him inside of her, filling and stretching her far apart. He was so large, cock proportionate to the rest of him. The first time had hurt, she had bled. Her hymen stretched and ripped. Since then it could be slow and loving, or other times fast, hard, and frantic.


She jerked as one wide finger breached her, causing a new rush of moisture to pool around the intruding digit. Her hips rocked against his hand, as another finger joined the first and pushed hard against her centre.

It was about her tonight. Sam's mouth kissed across her breasts again, burying his face between them.

Jo wrapped a hand in his hair and pulled him close. So close. Their bodies offered comfort, offered sanctuary to each other. Safe inside, and together one more night.

Her palm slid down his neck across his broad chest and abdominals, pressing over them, feeling muscle and skin shift beneath her questing fingers. Sam's breath came out hot against her neck, his teeth sinking in as he groaned against her. Jo's hand cupping his balls, stroking them lightly before wrapping her fingers around his erection, hard and hot against her warm belly.

Sam grunted. She was ready enough, wet enough. And he was ready enough that if she kept touching him, it wasn't going to last very long.

Giving one last stroke inside her, he pulled his fingers back and licked them off. Jo's taste was all her, a short burst of heady, strong sweetness.

Sam guided Jo up higher on her knees so she could sink down over him. He loved entering her. He loved the heart pounding rush and grip of trying to fit somewhere he shouldn't be able to. She was so tight. So small around him, her vaginal walls squeezing his cock snug inside her.

They both breathed out hard, as he was seated fully inside her. Jo bit her bottom lip, as she squeezed around him adjusting to the intrusion. Their sweat mingled between them.

She felt Sam tilt her chin up.

"Open your eyes."

When did I close them? she thought. Blinking up at him, her brown eyes met stunning blue. He glowed when they were like this. The stress and tension he carried during the day melted away when he was with her. She could see him.

One of his arms wrapped tight around her waist, his other hand cupping her face.

"You're beautiful."

And she believed it. Jo leaned into him and captured his mouth hard with her own. Her moans echoed his grunts as she rose on her knees, his length dragging inside of her, and impaled herself back onto his cock. She could feel every inch of him, every crease, every vein. They moved, bodies slick and wanting against each other, arousal arching higher.

Sam's thumb joined where their bodies connected, thumb pressing on Jo's clit, sliding, pressing, stimulating. His hold on her back rocked her against him as she moved on top of him.

Her hips snapped forward, driving him in deeper. Close, she was so close.

Gasping out a sob, she felt her body release. Whole body tensing as orgasm washed over her in drowning waves, her world a centre point, Sam hard between her legs.

She constricted around him as he jerked. Panting out her name, he stilled and spilt himself inside her. Jo could feel his warmth spread deep, dick slowly softening.

They leaned on each other, as their breathing slowed, and sweat cooled.

They were lying on their backs next to each other, arms touching, always close when Jo breathed deep and turned to look at Sam.

She loved to watch him come down from orgasm, his body relaxed and limp, eyes closed and a small smile tugging on his lips.

He didn't look much like Dean. Jo thought they might have had the same chin, but the similarities pretty much ended there. They were two completely different people, but brothers nonetheless.

Jo remembered what Sam had been like when they met again. He'd been going through the motions since Dean died, and hadn't that just been yet another blow for her as well. She knew loss in her life, but the bond Sam and Dean had, she couldn't imagine what Sam lost that day.

Loss was all around them.

But it was in moments like these that it was easier to bear.

Sam's eyes were open, looking at her, watching. She was his sole focus.

Her mouth quirked. "What?"

He rolled on top of her, and pressed his lips to her. His hands trailed between her breasts and over her stomach, before his mouth followed them down.

Jo spread her legs as Sam settled between them and sighed. Sam's tongue licked up into her folds and circled her clit. The heated ache flared up again between her thighs as Sam's mouth worked lazily. He would bring her off slowly this time, make her gasp for it.

Yes, tonight was definitely about her.

Grey dawn filtered through faded curtains. The fireplace filled with nothing but dull, dying embers. It was another day, another trial. There were things to be done before they could get back on the road, keep heading south until they hit the Mexican border, where they'd start to see how far the demons reach went.

They dressed when they awoke, a quick breakfast, taking care of personal needs.

Weapons were cleaned and kept for the ready, the salt lines surrounding them were scooped up and placed back in the canisters; it had to be saved, as much as they could.

They left the sigils and protections on the walls. If any one else came to this place, it would offer some protection against the things on the outside. If it was another hunter that came across the symbols they'd know that at least one of their kind had been there and gone. It would let them know that there were still other hunters alive.

Like every other place they stayed at, Jo leant Sam her father's knife and he set to work carving into the wooden floor. A message that only other hunters could decipher, something that would only make sense to others like them.

But most of all, the messages were left in hope. The hope that Bobby and Ellen were still out there, still alive, together and surviving, hope that they had come across somewhere Sam and Jo had stayed, that Bobby had gotten the message.

Sam stood, finished. He handed Jo her knife, running his hands along her scarred knuckles as she took it from him.

He leant down and kissed her before gathering their bags and weapons to take out to the truck. They'd stop in Manitou Springs for a new vehicle and continue their journey south; they'd drive far away from here. There was nothing left.

She sighed and exited the house. Closing the door behind her, she stood at the top step and watched Sam throw their bags in the back.

Jo's hand moved to rest on the small, swollen bump of her belly.

If it was a boy, they were going to name him 'Dean'.


A/N: Originally posted January 13, 2008 on Live Journal.