Authors :WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon
A.N. –Thank you all for your continued patience in waiting for an update. We hope you enjoy . The following chapter is rated M... You have been warned!
Angels and Personal Demons
One month later...
The hand he extended trembled violently as he accepted the glass of water offered to him. With fear-widened eyes, Dean slurped noisily at the liquid, hardly caring when a generous amount splashed over the lip of the glass and onto the front of his t-shirt.
Jo offered her boyfriend a reassuring smile before she settled at his side on the double bed, her bare legs curling beneath her body in order to protect them from the chill in the air of the motel room, which lacked a working heater. She pressed closer to Dean, frowning as she felt the frantic pounding of his heart against her.
Dean had always suffered nightmares, the contents of which were varied. In his childhood, they had revolved around the death of his mother and his subsequent fear that his father may one day fail to return from hunting; as he had grown, and most of those who loved him had been lost to the cause, Dean's nightmares had begun to focus upon the monsters he faced on a daily basis; and, following his condemnation to Hell, Dean had been plagued with perhaps the worst nightmares that he had ever endured. Throughout it all, Sam had been his one constant – the one unchanging part of his life that had seemed so indestructible. Now though, in the wake of his brother's disappearance, Dean's nightmares had begun to force him to face the possibility that he would never again see his little brother alive. The very idea ate him up from the inside out.
Kneeling up beside him, Jo pressed her lips to his temple and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. Her hand fluttered up against his cheek and she rocked him against her body as she uttered words of reassurance. Dean closed his eyes, leaning into her touch and taking a deep, steadying breath as he tried to regulate his thumping heart. Jo continued to sweep her thumb over his cheek, tracing the edge of his ear as she brushed tiny kisses across his jaw, eventually landing on his lips.
Dean held onto her, hauling Jo across his knee so his arms could encircle her body.
They remained that way for several, long minutes, neither wanting to be the first to break the eerie silence that had settled upon them. A beam of light from a passing car on the street outside suddenly sliced across the wall, and Jo's heart broke at the tears illuminated upon Dean's cheek.
He wiped at them self-consciously, pressing his face into the side of her neck before he took one final, calming breath.
"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, drawing back to hold her gaze.
"Shhh," Jo chided, shaking her head and smiling despite her concern, "you've got nothing to be sorry for."
Falling into routine, Jo gently untangled herself from his arms and reached for the TV remote from the night stand. After the nightmares had initially begun, Dean had attempted to find solace at the bottom of a liquor bottle, as he done many times in his past. However, Jo had refused to watch him drown his sorrows for long, and had forcefully initiated a new plan of action. Now, whenever Dean awoke from a nightmare, as he was prone to do in Sam's absence, Jo enforced a regime of late night TV viewing and mindless conversation, until sleep came to claim him once again. The result of this was that both were surviving on very little rest, but Jo could not bear to see Dean suffer alone.
"You want me to find a movie?" she asked even as she stifled a yawn, scooting back against the pillows to begin flicking through the TV stations. Commercial after commercial flashed up across the screen, garish colours and junk food intermingling into an indistinguishable blur due to the speed at which Jo continued to peruse the channels.
"I guess," Dean agreed without much enthusiasm, rubbing at his bleary eyes in defeat as he accepted the fact that he would not be able to banish the images of his dream alone.
"You wanna talk about it?" inquired Jo, brown eyes never once wavering from the screen.
"No," Dean stated, hasty and firm. He had begun to realise that talking over the current situation was something that brought him little comfort or assurance, and so he preferred to maintain silence on the matter.
Jo seemed to accept Dean's answer willingly, and thus continued to jab at the remote control until settling on an episode of a familiar sitcom. She crossed her legs and pulled the somewhat musty smelling duvet up around her. Dean's eyes flickered to the screen but did not settle there, moving instead to Jo's face. He watched her intently, finding himself soothed a little by the curve of her lips as they drew into a warm smile.
"Bobby wants to know when we're next planning on stopping by," said Jo, shooting Dean a brief glance as she nestled into his side. She had spoken to the retired hunter earlier that day during a short rest stop the couple had taken on their way back from their latest hunt. Bobby had been full of concern and questions regarding Dean's state of mind, none of which Jo had been able to assuage without the promise of an imminent visit.
However, Dean appeared to have developed somewhat of an aversion to the Singer property, which they had not returned to since almost a week after Sam's disappearance. Both Bobby and Jo presumed that this was Dean's attempt to stave off the painful memories that would doubtlessly be evoked by their presence at the house, but neither planned to indulge such thinking for long. It was important to Jo that Dean be surrounded by those who loved him during his greatest time of need, and it had become evident from her twice weekly conversations with Bobby that the old man was beginning to miss their company. Jo could hardly blame him, since he spent the majority of his days rattling around the house and impound lot, alone save for the presence of his newest guard dog.
Dean blanched, swallowing against the churning dread in the pit of his stomach.
"End of the month maybe. Unless you wanna go back sooner?" he asked, desperately hoping she would refrain from taking him up on the offer.
Jo shook her head, wordlessly clambering behind him and easing his head back against her chest. She began to comb her fingers slowly through his hair, pleased by the smile that her ministrations coaxed from him. A weary sigh soon left Dean's body, and he reached back to capture her free hand, then clasped it over his heart.
"When I was a kid, my Mom used to let me stay up late and watch this show," Jo revealed, smiling somewhat sadly at the memory of her late mother. "She'd make cocoa and we'd curl up on the couch together. I'd be asleep pretty much before the first commercial..."
"The plot is a little lacking," Dean quipped, although his tone was devoid of its usual humorous edge. Jo grinned anyway, spurred on by even his faint attempts at normality.
"I thought it was kind of cool," she confessed, half hoping to encourage Dean into a characteristic bout of teasing. When he simply smiled and nodded, Jo's heart sank. Deciding upon a change of tactic, she seized the controls and quickly muted the screen. Dean shot her a questioning look but awaited an explanation rather than demanding one.
"You wanna play a game?" she inquired, her nose wrinkling at the bridge as she affixed a somewhat mischievous gaze upon Dean. He let out a sigh, uncertainty colouring his features.
"I'm not really in the mood to... y'know..." he began, averting his eyes to the carpet. Jo giggled and shook her head, slapping Dean in the centre of his chest as an afterthought.
"Not that kind of game," she chided, still amused by his presumptions.
Dean appeared perplexed and shook his head in response, "I don't know any other kinds of games."
"Why am I not surprised?" She rolled her eyes good naturedly at the smirk that Dean's obvious line of thought elicited.
"You're not usually complaining, sweetheart," he reminded her. "Okay, so... what are we playing?"
"You ever play the movie star game?" she asked, not awaiting a response before she launched into an explanation. "So, I name a movie star, like... Paul Newman..."
"Paul Newman?" Dean repeated, amused by the retro turn the game was taking.
"What? My Mom liked old movies," Jo shrugged, continuing on unperturbed, "so then you've gotta think of an actor whose first name starts with 'N'."
Dean frowned, absently tracing his fingertips up and down her arm as he mulled over the game. "Okay, and the point of this is...?"
Jo sighed irritably and craned her neck to shoot him a testy glare. "There doesn't have to be a point to everything, Dean."
"Sorry," he replied, finding himself distracted with trailing his lips down her cheek. Jo felt his lips rapidly approaching her neck and she patted his hand as it rested over her abdomen.
"Hey, a little concentration here, Winchester!" she scolded, snuggling into his arms despite her protests.
"Uh... alright... so..." He peered up thoughtfully at the ceiling, sighing aloud as he tried to force his mind to cooperate. It was a little late for thinking, and his sleep addled brain was not really in the mood for games.
"What's that hot chick called?" he mused with a wince, willing the actress' name to appear on the tip of his tongue, "the one in the movie about the dancing swans."
"Dancing swans?" Jo queried, her expression vacant as she regarded Dean, who simply shrugged.
"Hunters don't have a lot of time for movies," he defended, unapologetic and even somewhat defiant as he peered back at his girlfriend.
Jo shook her head, a sarcastic smile slipping in place as she retorted, "You have plenty of time for 'Dr. Sexy MD'."
"That's different," Dean defended, his cheeks beginning to colour at the mention of one of his infinitely more guilty pleasures, "it's like... educational."
"Educational?" Jo challenged, crossing her arms and continuing to stare, everything in her gaze challenging Dean to wheedle his way out of the corner he had backed himself into.
"Yeah... like..." Dean paused, his mind now racing, before he continued triumphantly, "if you got shot or something... then..."
"Never mind, Dean," Jo sighed, flopping back against the headboard in defeat. "I guess a game wasn't the best idea."
The couple fell back into a silence that was not strictly comfortable, and Dean found himself entertaining just a degree of remorse for not having tried a little harder. He knew that Jo was putting herself through the ringer for him, and he was not always demonstrating his gratitude as well as he should. Sidling closer to his girlfriend, Dean wrapped one arm around her waist and pressed an apologetic kiss to the golden crown of her head.
"I'm sorry," he lamented, "I know I'm no picnic to be around lately."
"I understand, Dean," Jo replied softly, releasing a long breath before she added, "I just wish you'd let me and Bobby help you. I'm doing the best I can here, but it never seems good enough."
Dean sat forwards, running his hands through his hair as he exhaled slowly and realised the truth behind Jo's accusation.
"I know," he replied simply.
Plunged into silence once again, the couple simply sat side by side, neither daring to look at the other as the tension became palpable.
Jo busied herself with staring down at the patterned comforter, "Do you want me to go?"
"What?" Dean's head snapped up, and he simply stared at her, wondering not for the first time if cutting her free from his destructive path would be the most humane thing to do. Taking his lack of an answer as an affirmative, Jo nodded, caught between fury and heartbreak as she threw back the covers.
"I see." She blinked furiously, feeling a tell-tale burn in the recesses of her throat as her eyes began to water.
Dean swept his hands over his face, watching in the darkness as Jo began to gather her clothes from the back of a chair. Her hands shook as she dropped her shirt, and she cursed under her breath whilst she fumbled to retrieve it from the floor.
"I don't want you to leave," Dean stated, his voice husky and raw. "Please, Jo."
Swallowing hard, Jo replaced her clothing onto the chair, but did not return to the bed. She merely stood in the centre of the darkened motel room, staring at Dean as though she were almost uncertain of the truth behind his words.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," Dean murmured, his eyes imploring as they swept Jo's hunched figure. She nibbled at her bottom lip, refusing to be swayed by his pleas.
"We can't carry on like this, Dean," Jo said, her voice quiet but unwaveringly firm. She averted her gaze, however, certain that she would be unable to maintain such conviction as soon as her eyes befell the utterly crestfallen look spread across Dean's features. Sam's disappearance had afforded him a new vulnerability but, not one to easily admit his need for help, Dean was resisting everything that both Jo and Bobby had to offer, resolved instead to plough on with his endless and potentially damning quest to find his brother.
"I know," Dean finally conceded, extending one arm to Jo and beckoning her over to the side of the bed. She came slowly but willingly, her arms still hugging her middle as though to comfort herself.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, easing her into his arms, "I'm so sorry."
Dean repeated the sentiment and wrapped his arms around her waist as he rested his head lightly against hers. He was relieved that Jo didn't attempt to resist, but she refused to meet his gaze and simply stared down at her hands, not entirely forgiving.
"I just... I couldn't stand hurting you, Jo... not again, not after..." he swallowed hard, finding all the guilt that he had buried within him about Carthage once again resurfacing.
"But you are," Jo interrupted sadly, finally lifting her gaze to focus upon his eyes, "you hurt me when you push me away, Dean. I don't know how to help you. I know I can't fix things, I know I can't make you hurt any less, but I'm here because I want to be. Because... because I love you. But if you want me to go, I will. I won't watch you self-destruct, Dean- I won't - and I'm not gonna stay around where I'm not wanted."
Jo closed her eyes as she felt his fingers tangle in the ends of her hair, and Dean eased her head back against his chest in order to envelope her in his arms, so tightly she almost couldn't breathe.
"I want you, Jo," he murmured, pressing his lips with desperation against the crown of her head. "And I'm sorry... for everything."
"We have to start moving forward," Jo stated, wincing as the words passed her lips. However, rather than recoil from her as she had feared, Dean simply nodded, something within his eyes resigned.
"I think you're right," he admitted, his voice almost breaking in the middle of the sentence.
Although he did not want to entertain the idea that his search for Sammy was self-destructive, Dean knew that viewing it as anything else was simply naive. He had poured every last part of his sanity into the quest, and Dean was beginning to feel hopelessly weary under the weight of it all. The strain was showing clearly upon Jo too, who seemed to be doing nothing other than following in Dean's wake to ensure that his next stunt was not as stupid as the last. Whilst Dean would never give up looking when even a tiny part of him believed his brother to still be alive, he knew that the time had come to ease up on them both. Otherwise, he did not doubt that he would succeed only in getting both Jo and himself killed - again.
"We'll hit the road in the morning, head back to Sioux Falls," Dean promised, running the tips of his fingers across the length of Jo's arm, and smiling as she nestled into his chest. "We got enough gas to make it, I think."
"I think Bobby would like that," murmured Jo, her eyes sweeping Dean's features in earnest as she attempted to decipher his mood, which seemed oddly pensive.
Dean studied her closely and she felt her heart flutter at the intensity of his gaze. Reaching a hand out, he grazed his knuckles down her cheek and swept the pad of his thumb over her lips. He appeared to hesitate before finally managing to speak, and he licked his lips nervously as he lowered his gaze.
"You deserve so much more than this, Jo..." he began, finding himself instantly silenced as Jo swept his hand somewhat irritably from her cheek.
"Dean, are we really going to..." she began, blinking rapidly as Dean shook his head and pressed his fingertip against her lips to silence her.
"But I don't want to do this without you," he said earnestly, his eyes boring into hers as he knew he had finally secured her silence, "and as selfish as that makes me... I need you, Jo."
"Dean..." Jo began, leaning into his touch as his hand settled against her cheek.
"Don't leave me," he pleaded, leaning closer and pressing a kiss to her cheek, his lips lingering against her skin longer than was necessary. "Stay with me."
Jo simply nodded, allowing him to fold her into his arms as she settled her head against his chest and they lay in the darkness.
"I promise I'll work at being less of a pain in the ass," he vowed, attempting to lighten the moment with humour. Jo smiled and rolled her eyes, sliding her hand over his chest as he drew her as close to his body as he could, and swept the covers over them.
Dean felt her breathing slowly even out, and exhaustion easily swept her away into slumber with a whispered affirmation of love in her ear. But the fear of his dreams, of his mind conjuring up a reality even worse than the one he lived, kept Dean from following her.
Instead, he lay awake, listening to the sound of the cars and the street outside, as he held onto the woman in his arms and willed the morning to break the sky.
Jo awoke to an empty bed and the sound of shower water accompanied by tuneless singing. Her lips formed an easy smile, most of the previous night's happenings already forgiven, and she rolled onto her back to continue listening as Dean butchered what was apparently his guilty pleasure song choice.
Moments after the water stopped running, the bathroom door swung open, and Dean stood on the threshold with a motel issue towel wrapped around his waist. Spying Jo reclining back against the pillows, Dean offered her a somewhat tentative smile.
"Michael Jackson, Dean-o?" Jo queried, cocking her head to one side as she gazed up at Dean, who immediately blushed.
"Thriller's a classic," defended Dean, waggling his eyebrows at Jo before taking a running leap at the bed. Squealing, Jo flung her arms out in front of her body as Dean landed at her side and instantly reached for her, mischief alive in his eyes.
"Dean!" Jo protested, her giggles manic as Dean pealed the covers away from her and mercilessly began to tickle her. "Dean... you're wet!"
"That'll make two of us," Dean growled, a grin breaking out across his features as he straddled Jo, his towel beginning to work loose. Jo rolled her eyes but smiled at his buoyant mood, wrapping her arms around his neck and arching an eyebrow.
"Pretty sure of yourself there," she teased, turning her head as Dean busied himself with dragging kisses down her neck.
Jo felt his smile against her skin, and her hands threaded in his hair as he lifted his head only long enough to waggle his eyebrows in a thoroughly suggestive manner.
"You know... I was just thinking about you..." he drawled, pausing to brush the tip of his nose against hers before he leaned closer as if to kiss her.
"Whilst you were singing 'Thriller'?" Jo smirked, suddenly giggling manically as his fingers dug mercilessly into her sides and he began to tickle her once again. Her high pitched shrieks prompted a hearty laugh from her attacker, and Jo swatted at Dean as his hands wandered under her tank top and he pinched at her waist.
"Dean, stop!" she protested through her giggles, twisting and struggling to remove herself from his grasp. Suddenly seizing the upper hand, Jo rolled their entwined bodies over across the mattress, grinning down at Dean smugly as she now sat astride him. She planted her hands firmly on his chest, securing him to the mattress with surprising strength.
The grin never fading from his face, Dean reached up and slid his hand around the back of her neck, wordlessly drawing her down to him as he lifted his head from the pillow and kissed her hungrily.
Jo fell forward against his chest, her own heartbeat picking up in response to the rhythm of his. Dean stared up at Jo, licking his lips as their eyes locked, and as she lowered her mouth once more to him, he ground his hips against her groin, smirking at her gasp in response to his evident arousal.
"Still want me to stop?" he queried, one eyebrow arched somewhat arrogantly. Her eyes narrowing, Jo slid her hand underneath the top of Dean's towel, cupping him in her hand and enjoying his own responsive gasp of pleasure.
"Want me to?" she demanded as she slid her curled fingers up and down the length of him.
"Hell... no..." Dean managed to choke out, his eyes rolling as Jo brushed aside his towel. He groaned in frustration as Jo released her hold on him in order to lift her tank top over her head and discard it. Dean let out a hiss as Jo shook her hair out, causing her breasts to sway alluringly above him. Her nipples hardened quickly in response to the cool air, and Dean could not resist reaching up in order to toy with one of the pert, pink buds.
Jo grinned and slid her hand down Dean's cheek, her fingertips proceeding at speed once they had reached his chest. With the tip of her index finger, Jo playfully circled Dean's navel, relishing the impatience that flashed across his features. His eyes darkened, and Dean wasted no time in pulling Jo flush against him. Obediently, she enclosed him in her hand once again, stroking him in a slow but steady rhythm that found him hardening even more.
Dean claimed her lips in another searing kiss before he rolled her beneath him, unable to resist the temptation of thrusting into her hand as she continued her delicious torment.
Hoping to halt her actions momentarily, and save himself a world of embarrassment, Dean slid his hands down her sides and tucked his thumbs in the waist band of her pyjama shorts. In one swift, well-practised move, he dragged the garment down her hips and legs, tossing them over his shoulder as he rocked against her.
Jo grasped at his shoulders, her head falling back as a hiss of surprise escaped her lips and her nails dug into his skin. Dean grinned and nuzzled her cheek to find her gaze, watching her intently as his hand traced the length of her inner thigh. Dragging a haphazard line of kisses down her neck, he moved his other hand up to cup her breast, directing it's peak to his eager mouth.
Jo writhed beneath him, grasping at his hair in encouragement, as she briefly pondered whether to continue their playful battle for control or to simply lose herself in the moment. Her musings were short lived, as Dean's mouth lavished the same attention on her other breast and his fingers finally made contact with her core.
Dean closed his eyes as he slid one finger inside her body, and a groan reverberated from his chest as her muscles clamped down on him, tight and deliciously wet.
"I win," he declared, smirking as Jo murmured a half-heartedly indignant reply that he could not quite decipher. With his eyelids fluttering closed, Dean finally nestled himself between Jo's thighs, gasping as she began to rock against him almost immediately. They moved together hard and fast, gaining momentum with every passing second on a rhythm that was already frenzied. Feeling his control slipping, and realising that Jo was nowhere near ready, Dean attempted to still their movement somewhat. However, as he moved to withdraw ever so slightly, both of Jo's hands fastened on the base of his back, holding him fast. Her smile was wicked as she began to grind harder into Dean, feeling the length of him tense inside of her and shudder as hanging on became quickly impossible. Releasing a guttural moan, Dean accepted defeat, spilling into Jo over again as she bucked her hips in encouragement. Momentarily, she favoured the sensation of warmth rising inside of her, before Dean cried out again, finally spending himself.
"I win," Jo whispered, her grin teasing as she peered up into Dean's face. His expression was chagrined – complete embarrassment at having ruined the moment colouring his features for a while. Without a word, he leaned into Jo and brushed his lips against hers in a gentle, chaste kiss. He withdrew from her quickly, settling his head between her thighs before she could utter a protest. As she attempted to sit up, Dean rested a hand on her abdomen and forced her firmly back against the mattress.
His mouth closed around her still moist folds and his tongue began to search in earnest for the spot that he knew would prove to be her undoing. He found it quickly, and sucked in the tiny, round bud with a delighted moan. Jo's hands pressed flat against the mattress and her fingertips dug into the rumpled undersheet as she struggled to find purchase on them.
Allowing his tongue to flick teasingly over the spot again and again, Dean carefully slid two fingers inside Jo, pleased by the responding squirms he elicited. Her hands tangled in his short hair and she choked out his name as his fingers built up a steady rhythm in between the continual lapping of his tongue.
Grinning against her sensitive flesh, Dean sucked hungrily, causing Jo's hips to arch up in response each time. A muffled groan left his lips as he felt her muscles begin to tighten around his fingers, and he curled them upwards in search of the one spot he knew would have her all but screaming out his name.
"Oh...God," Jo gasped, her cries possibly a little louder than their motel room neighbours would have appreciated. Dean redoubled his efforts, continuing to splay his flattened palm against her hip to hold her to him, as she writhed against his mouth and pushed down further against his thrusting fingers.
Delighting in the noises spilling from her lips, and the firm fluttering of her body as it clamped down around his fingers, Dean continued to lap at her folds as the final delicious tingles of an orgasm washed over her.
Waiting until her eyes had opened once again, Dean held her gaze and withdrew his fingers, murmuring gruffly in approval as he licked them one by one. His eyes darkening with lust, he kissed his way up her body, pausing to swirl his tongue around her navel and then lick teasingly at her nipple, before finally claiming her lips.
Jo murmured unintelligibly into their kisses, sliding her hands down Dean's body and extracting a moan from him as his arousal built once again. Jo sighed contentedly as she felt him hardening against her thigh.
Drawing back to hold her gaze, Dean smiled as she peered up at him, skin flushed and brown eyes wide. Staring down at her kiss swollen lips, he settled himself once more in the cradle of her hips, before seeking out an eager yet achingly tender kiss.
"I love you, Jo," he whispered solemnly, moving into her touch as her thumb swept over his cheek and brushed lightly across his lips.
Their kisses escalated, their bodies aching to give way to need once again, and Jo whimpered as their hips rocked wantonly against each other. Seconds later she rolled them over across the mattress, her hands pinning Dean's arms above his head as she positioned herself over him before sinking down and taking him back inside her.
The groans of evident ecstasy and strangled gasps that were emanating from the television screen affixed to the wall left Sam Winchester under no illusions as to what was transpiring between the objects of Michael's obsession. Uncomfortable, Sam averted his gaze, struggling to block out the sounds of escalating passion that threatened to scar him for life, when he considered that he was being forced to spy on his own brother in the throes of a primal and very personal act.
However, the angel continued to stare up at the screen, his expression neutral as he watched the moment draw to its inevitable conclusion, and Dean and Jo were seen to collapse into each others' arms, thoroughly spent.
"Sex has always confused me," Michael spoke suddenly, startling Sam from his own maudlin reverie. The youngest Winchester brother affixed narrowed eyes upon the angel, and his jaw instantly tensed as he anticipated another heated and unfriendly exchange. For the last several months now, Sam had been held captive by Michael, who had somehow managed to clamber out of the cage more insane than previously.
Choosing to ignore the statement, Sam glared up at Michael, watching as he stood transfixed by the image on the screen. The angel wore a beaming smile; a smile that seemed to grow impossibly wider as he watched Dean and Jo, wrapped in each other's arms as they exchanged whispered conversation.
"What do you want with them?" Sam demanded, knowing all too well by now that Michael would feign selective deafness as soon as his prisoner began to question his motives. Sometimes he would answer cryptically, a goading smirk in place, but for the most part, a simple shrug of the shoulders was all he would commit to. After almost two months, Sam was none the wiser to the plans that he was most definitely a part of.
"With her?" Michael appeared to ponder this briefly, "nothing."
He inhaled slowly, chuckling to himself as he cast a final glance at the screen.
"Your brother's in love," he stated, folding his arms across his chest as he paced absently around the space.
Sam's eyes remained fixed on the being; he knew it would be unwise to either deny or affirm the claim, and so he remained quiet.
"Oh, that's not a question," Michael informed him, detracting his attention from Sam only long enough to wave his hand across the screen. Instantly the image disappeared, and the young couple were finally freed from the eyes of their celestial voyeur.
"You must eat," the angel directed, gesturing down to a large platter of uneaten food that Sam had stubbornly refused to touch.
"Not hungry," Sam growled in response, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair he occupied. He knew he had lost weight in weeks gone by, but he simply could not bring himself to trust anything within the illusion that Michael offered him. And so Sam ate only when the act became necessary, and slept only when exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. Food, drink, a comfortable bed and clean clothing had been provided to Sam in abundance, and yet he knew that Michael was only assuring his well-being until such a time that he would prove useful. The angel gave little of his motives or thoughts away, and sometimes would leave Sam in the solitude of the waiting room for days on end without dropping by for a social call. Of late, Sam had begun to favour the isolation to the overbearing and smothering presence of the arrogant angel. He had not forgotten their time in the cage together, when Michael had proven himself to be as cruel and calculating as Lucifer, and equally as hateful of the Winchesters, who had thwarted his plans.
Michael shrugged once again before wandering over to an oak doorway that suddenly appeared in the wall in the midst of the cranberry coloured paintwork. He paused on the threshold, one hand poised on the doorknob, and turned to affix familiar eyes upon Sam's face. He wore the countenance of Adam Milligan still, a fact which not only irked Sam, but served as a constant and painful reminder of the many betrayals of family.
"The time will be right soon, Sam," Michael offered in a tone that may have been construed as consolatory.
"Right for what?" demanded Sam, aware that his query would, as always, go unanswered. Michael laughed, traces of genuine amusement playing across his features.
"Don't worry, it's all just as I planned..."
Sam stared down at his hands, his jaw clenched in anger. But as realisation slowly dawned, a sickening dread descended over him along with it.
"You... brought Jo back?"
Michael dug his hands in his pockets and nodded off-handedly, "To be honest, Sammy... I can call you that, right? To be brutally honest with you, Jo Harvelle's of no consequence to me, alive or dead. But... Dean? Well, Dean loves her. Always did."
He gestured to the now blank screen behind him before continuing, "Of course, it took a little extra work to bring her back, but I think you'll agree that the finished product... is going to be spectacular."
Sam swallowed hard, both intrigued and concerned by the nature of the plan the angel was about to inflict upon his sibling. With the scenes of despair and grief he had watched play out on the screen after his own abduction, Sam knew that losing Jo too would be too much for Dean to bear; because Michael was right, and Jo was different.
Fidgeting on the balls of his feet, Michael waved his hand over the screen and sighed airily at the scene that flickered into being. His buoyant enthusiasm was terrifying, and left his captive in no doubt of the angel's evil intent.
The images of Dean and Jo filled the screen again, and Sam's heart hammered in his chest as he watched the couple - content in each other's arms, and undoubtedly oblivious to the presence that had been spying upon them.
Sam had always known that their happiness would not be allowed to last.