Fic: Never Say Die (5/16)

[briarwood]

I'm not yet home from Asylum (which was awesome!) so I'm going to be slow responding to comments. That said, it's time I posted a new chapter, so I'm co-opting a friend's PC to get this done!

Title: Never Say Die (5/16)
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Adults Only
Pairing: John/Ellen (see notes in Part 0)
Summary: After a hunt that went horribly wrong, John wakes up in a California hospital. It's thirteen years later, everyone he trusted seems to be dead, and he has no idea how to find his sons. Meanwhile, unknown to John, Dean's time is running out.
Warnings: Darkfic. Character death. Torture. (See notes in Part 0 for more details)
Spoilers: Up to Jus In Bello.
Previous chapters: archived here.

---

NEVER SAY DIE

Part Five

Jo balanced the tray on one hand and handed out drinks with the other. "Here you go. White wine..." she placed the glass carefully in front of the woman in the red dress, "double Jack on the rocks," he was a middle-aged man in a dirty sweater, "lite beer..." for the second woman at the table, "and Irish whiskey." She smiled at the last man, a younger man in jeans and leather.

Jack-on-the-rocks leered at her. "Thanks, darlin'." He tucked something into her pocket, squeezing her ass as he did so. "Have one on me, why don't you?"

She moved away from his grabby paws. "I will. Thanks." She tossed her long hair back and put a teasing wiggle in her walk as she headed back to the bar. He could look, but she wasn't going to touch. Not even if he'd slipped her a c-note. She was betting it was a dollar.

Mick took the tray from her. "He bothering you, Jo-chile?"

She shrugged. "He's a pig, but I can handle it. You should have seen the bar I grew up in. Jerks like that are nothing."

"Good for you, gal." Mick laughed. "Take a break, honey. It's gonna get busy later."

"Okay," Jo answered agreeably. She leaded into the back room, untied her apron and tossed it over a chair, then picked up her bag. She walked on through to the back door. She preferred to eat in the alley outside: despite the garbage, it smelled better than the back room of the bar. Jo strongly suspected several rats had died back there.

She drew a deep breath of the night air and unwrapped her sandwich. Mick's saloon was one of fifty she'd found work in since she started hunting. It was easy work. Bar owners like Mick operated with tight margins, so were always willing to hire someone like Jo, who was happy to be paid in cash and could be trusted not to raid the register or take the hand off a grabby customer.

The job fitted in well with hunting. A lot of people would spill their secrets to a pretty girl who served them drinks. Her days were free for research in libraries or for recon, and if she had a salt-and-burn she could go after the bar closed. She liked Mick: he was an honest scoundrel. She would be sorry to leave, but it was time to move on.

Jo heard footsteps and tensed, looking around. A woman was coming toward her. It was dark in the alley and the light was behind the woman, but Jo could make out high-heeled shoes, a short skirt and long, straight hair dyed some weird colour, maybe blue. Jo reached behind her and opened the door a crack, just in case, but she didn't expect trouble.

"Got a light?" the woman asked. Her features were still in shadow, but Jo could see the unlit cigarette dangling from her lips.

"I don't smoke," Jo answered.

"Not what I asked, cutie."

Jo shrugged, then remembered she did have a little book of matches with her. She nodded, searching through her bag. "I might have something..." she said. Her hand closed on the fold-over packet and she drew it out. There were three matches left in there. She tore one out, struck it, and held it out for the woman.

"Thanks, darlin'." The woman leaned forward to light her cigarette. In the flare of the match, Jo saw her face. The woman was younger than Jo had guessed from her voice, her face pale and heavily made up. Her makeup was Goth-style: dark red lips, black panda-eyes, silver piercings in her eyebrow and nose. She looked up, meeting Jo's eyes as she blew smoke out through her nose.

Her eyes were utterly black.

Jo gasped in fright. She backed off, groping for the small bottle of holy water she always carried.

The demon was too fast for her. She grabbed Jo's forearm with one hand and her bag with the other. She twisted Jo's arm behind her back. Jo cried out in pain but kicked back, and bent over, attempting to throw the demon off. Her boot connected with the demon-woman's knee. The demon gave no sign of having felt it. She shoved Jo into the wall, grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the bricks.

Jo felt pain. She felt herself begin to fall, but she was unconscious before she hit the ground.

---

Ellen looked around at each of the three men. David Hunter was frowning, his forehead creased above those incredibly blue eyes. Bobby looked worried, his eyes on John. John's expression was a familiar one of implacable determination.

It seemed the four of them had just become an army.

Hunter spoke first. "We need to be prepared for the demons to get in our way. It's a long way to Colorado and I'm afraid that by coming here I might have given too much away."

John's frown deepened. "We travel together. Strength in numbers. Demons, we can handle." He looked at the others. "Who has the best car? We need to drive fast, and non-stop."

Ellen spoke up. "My Jeep is fast. Reliable, too."

"Might be best," Hunter agreed. "They know my van."

John nodded. "Fine, we take the Jeep. We'll take turns driving so we can keep going all night. Bobby."

"John," Bobby acknowledged.

"Demons are your department. If we're expecting an attack, what do we need?"

"Devil's trap to seal the Jeep," Bobby answered gruffly. "Load her up with holy water - "

"Get started," John ordered. "Hunter, do you have weapons in your van?"

"Not much of an arsenal by your standards," Hunter answered. "I have a few things that might be useful."

"Load what you have into Ellen's Jeep. We'll need to talk before we leave."

Bobby stepped forward then. "John, there are some things you need to know."

"You'll tell me on the road."

The two men left John and Ellen alone. She walked up to him slowly. In the fading light, his eyes were dark, shadowed hollows.

In just a few minutes, John had changed. Ellen couldn't remember ever seeing him like this, so completely in command, never doubting they would follow his orders.

He clasped her shoulder firmly. "Ellen, are you sure you want in on this?"

"I'm in," she answered firmly. Just try and stop me! "John, the demons murdered my husband and my son. I have as much reason as you to be in this fight."

He shook his head. "This isn't about them. I'm going to save Dean."

Ellen reached for his hand. "I know how much you're willing to sacrifice for Dean. But you said it yourself, this morning. This is a war now. We all need to be in it." She squeezed his hand, briefly. "I'm with you, John."

He drew away from her. "I have things to do."

It hurt, though Ellen tried not to show it. "Sure. I'll go clean out the Jeep."

---

John headed into the house. He saw Bobby collecting the tools of the demon hunter's trade but walked past him, looking for Hunter. Hunter was outside at his camper van. The van was clearly meant to be lived in: the rear floor was padded with a foam mattress, pillows and blankets. Above the rear doors hung a shining lamp. There were storage spaces everywhere, but John couldn't see anything more dangerous than clothing. Hunter was good at hiding his true purpose.

As John approached, Hunter was stripping off his shirt.

"Hey," John called.

Hunter turned toward him. "John."

"How's the arm?" John asked.

Hunter silently stretched out his arm under the light. There was a round indentation in the flesh where the bullet penetrated, but the skin was healed. It looked like the wound was weeks old.

"How the hell...?" John stared at the wound, then looked up to meet Hunter's eyes. It just wasn't possible. No human healed so quickly.

Hunter said, his tone very careful, "It's the side effect of a curse."

"What kind of curse makes you heal like that?"

"Long story, John." Hunter reached for a fresh shirt and slipped it on. "I'm hard to hurt, and I heal quickly. It's useful, but it's not worth the price, believe me."

There was a story there, but John didn't press for it.

As he buttoned the shirt, Hunter asked, "Did you really come to chat about my healing?"

Point taken. "No. I want to hear everything you know about the deal Dean made."

Hunter finished buttoning the shirt. "Of course." He was wearing an amulet, John noticed. It was a tarnished copper plate etched with mystical symbols, riveted to a circle of rawhide and threaded onto a leather thong. It looked old.

"Bobby knows more than I do, I'm certain," Hunter began.

John nodded. "I'll get to Bobby. Right now I'm asking you."

---

"That's all of the holy water." Hunter hefted the box of bottles easily, balancing it against the side of the Jeep while he waited for Ellen to clear a space. She took the box from him and turned to load it into the trunk. She noticed he'd changed his shirt.

She fitted the box in, shifting a shotgun out of the way. "Hey, Hunter."

"David," he corrected.

"Whatever," Ellen said dismissively. "Something's bothering me."

"What's that?" he asked with a friendly smile.

"Well, 'David Hunter' is obviously an alias," Ellen told him. "So, why call attention to it by messaging Jo this morning?"

He leaned back against the open trunk. "Who's Jo?"

Ellen reached up to close the trunk. "My daughter. John and I asked her to check you out. I know she must have tripped some alarm, but - "

"Ellen, I haven't messaged anyone. You had this girl looking for me online?"

Ellen suddenly felt cold. "Yes."

"She's in danger," David said urgently. "Call her, tell her to get out of town, wherever she is."

Ellen didn't question it. She slammed the trunk closed and ran for the house. She didn't own a cell phone. Since they started building GPS chips into all of them, she thought they were a bad idea. Big Brother was watching closely enough. She would have to use Bobby's phone.

John and Bobby were sorting through books when Ellen burst in.

"Ellen, what is it?" Bobby asked.

"Phone. I need to call Jo."

Bobby didn't argue. He simply gestured, pointing out the phone.

Ellen snatched it up and dialled Jo's cell quickly.

John asked, "Ellen, what's wrong?"

"Tell him," Ellen snapped to David, tapping her fingers on the table as she waited for Jo to answer.

David said quietly, "Ellen asked Jo to look me up on the net. She might have been noticed."

"By who?" John demanded.

"Answer the damned phone!" Ellen muttered. And, finally, she heard:

"Hi, this is Jo."

Oh, thank God! "Jo, sweetheart, it's me."

"Oh! Mom." Jo sounded surprised. "I didn't think I'd hear from you so quickly."

"Honey, where are you?" Ellen asked.

"I'm at work. In a bar, I mean, not hunting. Mom, you sound worried."

She was worried. "Jo, listen. You're in danger. You have to get out of town tonight."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I can't explain, but demons could be looking for you."

"Demons! Mom, are you in trouble? Where are you? You're not calling from home."

She answered without thinking. "I'm with Bobby. We're heading for Colorado - "

"Ellen!" John shouted. "No!" He leapt toward Ellen, but it was too late. The words were out. John spoke urgently, "Ellen, the more she knows, the more vulnerable she is."

Shit. He was right. But Ellen couldn't take it back now. And whether John liked it or not, she wanted Jo with them. She would be safe with them. So she compromised, looking directly at John as she spoke. "Why don't you meet us in Denver? Can you do that?"

"Mom, please. What's going on? Are you hunting?"

"I'm looking for answers. Honey, I have to go. Will you come to Denver?"

There was a pause, then Jo answered. "Okay. I can fly out in the morning."

Ellen let out her breath. "Thank you. I'll call you tomorrow, then. And be careful. I love you, Jo."

"Mom, you're scaring me."

"Good. Be careful."

---

Not even an hour before Ellen called, Jo had been woken by light shining in her eyes. Bright light that hurt even through her closed lids. The light was hot, too, as if she were too close to a fire, but it wasn't firelight. It must be a heat lamp. Jo had a bitch of a headache, and the light wasn't helping one bit. She was also tied to a chair, her wrists and ankles bound with rope.

Jo squinted against the light, trying to see. She could make out two bright spotlights pointed at her. Beyond them she could see nothing: they were too bright. She looked down and realised she was naked. She hadn't noticed because it was so warm in here: the heat from those two lights. No...she wasn't completely naked: they had left her bra, panties and for some reason her boots in place. Nothing else. The chair she was tied to was solid wood. The floor beneath her feet was wood, old and dusty.

This was bad.

"About time you woke up, sleepyhead," a woman's voice said.

Jo shook her head, hoping to cover her eyes with her hair and get some relief from the painful light. The gesture sent pain spearing through Jo's head, and everything she saw suddenly had a red halo. She felt sick to her stomach.

"Where am I?" Jo asked. She didn't really care what the answer was; it was just something to say while she tried to figure out what was happening to her. She remembered the demon in the alley behind Mick's bar. It wasn't hard to make the connection to what was happening to her now. But why? What did the demon woman want?

"Hunters," the woman's voice said derisively. "Always so sure of themselves. Always so easy to fool."

The voice was moving. Jo heard the sound of high heels on the wooden floor.

"Tell me," the demon said, "what's a cute little schoolgirl like you doing in a dangerous game like this?"

"Go and fuck yourself," Jo retorted, stung. She tugged at the ropes around her wrists, testing the strength of them. There was a little slack in the rope. If she could manoeuvre the knot within reach, then she might have a chance.

Her captor was a demon, but as far as Jo could tell, only one of them. Demon meant exorcism. Jo had been working on memorising the Latin ritual but she strained to recall the opening words.

"Anatomically impossible, my sweet, at least with this body," the demon said smoothly.

"What do you want?" Jo asked. The heat from the spotlights was becoming uncomfortable. Sweat beaded on her forehead, on her chest, running between her breasts in ticklish rivulets. She began to turn her right wrist, slowly, letting sweat soak into the rope. It might help by acting as a lubricant. Just as long as the demon didn't see what she was doing.

The demon appeared between the two spotlights. It was the woman from the alley. Her hair was a deep shade of purple, with highlights of violent pink beneath the bright lights. She wore the same Goth make up, the same hooker-chic outfit.

"I want," she announced, "a great many things, cutie. And you are going to tell me everything I want to know." She stood in front of Jo's chair and bent down, laying her hands on Jo's forearms, her face so close that all Jo could see was her soulless black eyes. "If you're smart, my sweet, you already know that you're going to talk. The only choices you have are how much you want to suffer first, and whether or not I let you live when we're done."

Jo looked into those black eyes. "You really love to hear yourself talk, don't you?"

The demon slapped her, hard.

Jo's head exploded with pain and she felt her stomach rebel. Oh, God, I'm going to throw up! Bile filled her throat and she retched. It was all she could do to turn her head to one side as she vomited, so most of it didn't end up on her body. The side of her face stung from the slap, but that was a small pain compared to the pounding inside her skull. Jo had a concussion, a bad one. She knew the symptoms, and knew she needed medical attention.

"Who is David Hunter?" the demon demanded.

Jo answered truthfully. "I don't know."

Everything she saw was blurred and red-tinged. There was a knife in the demon's hand. As the demon raised it in front of Jo's eyes, Jo recognised the knife as her own. Her father's switchblade, the handle engraved with his initials, the blade made from pure iron.

"Wrong answer," the demon said. Slowly, she laid the blade against Jo's cheek, just beneath her eye.

Jo had only a moment to decide what to do. She was sure she could hold out for a while, but she also knew that no one can resist torture forever. She remembered being trapped in that awful basement in Philadelphia, but then she had known that rescue would come: the Winchester boys were looking for her and she'd been utterly certain they would save her. Now she was alone, with no backup. No one knew where she was. No one but Mick would even realise she was missing. She remembered when she was sixteen, one of the hunters who frequented the Roadhouse had shown her his hand which was missing two fingers. He'd told her, If you're tortured, little lady, the answer is to crack as soon as possible. Not too fast, 'cause they'll think you're lying. But soon. Everyone cracks in the end, and you've gotta make it stop while you're still in with a chance of getting out alive.

Jo didn't know much about David Hunter. What little she knew was harmless information: the demon could have it. Her dilemma lay in who asked her to look into the name. She couldn't say anything that would lead the demons to her mom.

Jo spoke, the panic in her voice not even a little fake. "I don't know him, I swear! I only heard the name today!" She felt the knife break her skin, felt the blood begin to flow. "Please! I'm telling you the truth."

The demon drew the knife slowly down Jo's cheek, cutting her open from eye to jaw. Jo moaned with pain. She stared at the demon with hatred, knowing that she would be scarred for life.

The demon straightened up, a joyous smile on her face. She flipped the knife from one hand to the other. "You can do better than that, cutie. Who gave you the name?"

"A hunter. A friend from the Roadhouse. He gave me the name and told me the man he was looking for is an ex-marine. That's all I know."

"You're lying!"

She slashed with the knife and Jo screamed again as a long cut opened across her breasts. Blood welled from the cut, pouring down her skin to soak into her white bra.

"Who gave you the name? Who is looking for Hunter?"

Jo pressed her lips together, stubbornly silent. She would not let this demon bitch go after Ellen. She turned her wrist inside the rope. Was it a little looser?

The demon leaned close again, this time laying the bloody knife against Jo's upper arm. The point of the blade slid into flesh and muscle.

Jo gritted her teeth to keep from screaming and seized her chance. She twisted her wrist within the bindings. She grabbed the demon's elbow. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus..."

The demon wrenched away from her grasp and plunged the knife into Jo's stomach. Jo felt it go in, felt the demon twist the blade. Odd that it didn't hurt so much. Blood gushed down her skin, hot and thick.

That was when Jo heard the music: the opening notes of Mad World. At first, she had no idea where it was coming from; then she remembered it was the ringtone on her cellphone.

The demon stood over her, Jo's blood on her hands. "Fine. We'll try this another way." The demon knelt on the ground before Jo and sliced quickly through the ropes at Jo's ankles and wrists. Jo knew this was her last chance. She knew she should move, fight, run, anything. But the pain held her to the chair. She clutched at the stomach wound and felt fresh blood pump over her fingers.

Black smoke billowed around her. The demon's body fell to the ground with a thud and the smoke whirled around Jo. She understood, then, but it was too late. The smoke was everywhere, choking into her lungs, stinging her eyes. She screamed, fighting it desperately, but how do you fight smoke?

The demon wearing Jo's body stood and reached for Jo's cell phone. It answered the call, using Jo's voice. "Hi, this is Jo... Oh, Mom. I didn't think I'd hear from you so quickly." She ran a hand across Jo's stomach, gathering Jo's blood onto her fingers as the wounds closed.

She smiled, licking blood from her fingers as she listened to Ellen spill everything she wanted to know.

Part Six