5. Back to the Old Ways (Sort of)
"You sure you don't want me to drive?" I ask Sam as we're in the Impala.
Since I've come back, the one thing I've missed is my truck. I've missed it dearly. I forget what it looks like now, since I've been in Hell for way longer than I'd have liked. Since Sam decided to accept that I'm me again, I got the idea to go fetch my truck, that way, should my brothers be on a case and I catch wind of another, I can go without trouble. Dean opted to stay behind—probably his way of saying, Tell Sam the truth. He doesn't know.
Sam doesn't know I'm a demon, only Dean and Cas do. I guess Hannah too, and Franco. Sam hadn't heard me the last night Demon-Dean was around to play. Is he ready to know the truth?
"What do you think I'm gonna do, Jo?" Sam says playfully. We've got the windows rolled down a bit, letting a breeze kick around inside.
I bite down on my lip. "I don't know. I just thought, the last time we were in the Impala together..."
The playful atmosphere dies by the knife of tension. I realized when I got into the passenger seat that it was clean. How long it took Sam to scrub out my blood stain—because I was sure there was some the night Dean and I died—I couldn't begin to guess. It had to have been hard on him.
"Well, that, and I'm not sure I trust you driving with one arm." I try to get the teasing manner back into the car.
"I've been driving just fine with it."
"So, what? Is it broken?"
"Just a sprain." He clears his throat.
"How'd you get it?"
"Does it matter?"
"My little brother has his arm in a sling." I grimace. "Yes, Sam, it matters." We never touch on the subject again. I look down at my hands, hands that really don't belong to me. It lights up a light bulb in my head. "Hey, Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"I know I'm a little off my game with hunting, but, you got an explanation as to why I'm riding in this body and not my own?" He doesn't respond right away, which tells me something bad. He tries to act like he doesn't see me staring him down expectantly. I know he knows why. "Sam," I say firmly.
"I...I thought you weren't gonna come back," he says quietly. "I mean, you'd been so reluctant to get pulled back in. I just figured you wanted to be a one-and-out. Done deal. No second chances."
"I guess I proved us both wrong," I say weakly.
"You didn't want this, did you?"
"What?"
"Coming back, no matter what body you found yourself in."
I rest back in the seat, wishing the Impala's purr could melt away this tense conversation. "I'm sorry, Sammy."
"I knew it."
"Would you?" I ask a bit bitingly. "I mean, you had a new start. No hunting. No supernatural. No monsters. And then, by some ungodly chance, you're swept back into it and found yourself dead. Would you want to go through that pain of being resurrected only to be at risk for dying again, and repeating the cycle? I...I didn't."
"I was in your position once, Jo." Sam's hands tighten around the wheel. "I got out. I had a future going for me. And...and you know what? I got pulled back in, just like you. I died, just like you."
I snap my head towards him. "You what?"
"Are you really that surprised?" He chuckles apathetically.
"But you came back, you didn't stay dead."
"Believe me, if I had known what dying was going to do to Dean, I don't know...sometimes I think it was better if I wasn't brought back."
"What happened with Dean?"
"He, uh, sold his soul to bring me back."
"Uh-huh," I say slowly, feeling my mind reeling. So, it's bad enough one Winchester has spent time in Hell, but two? "Is it safe to assume that Dean has also died and then respawned?"
"Er, yeah." There's a haunted look in my little brother's eyes that tells me this occurrence is more than he's willing to admit. "We both have, a few times. And..." He sighs. "I made a trip to Hell too, a few times."
"Dear God, Sammy—"
"I didn't sell my soul, I did it to keep Lucifer from making the apocalypse destroy the world."
I swallow. "L-Lucifer?"
"Yeah, Lucifer. We could've definitely needed your help around then. We had a lot pitted against us."
"Well, we're Winchesters. It kind of comes with the name."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Hell related? No thank you." I look away. Just hearing "Hell" is making me see red and black, smell the rotting, burning flesh. The thought makes me want to gag. "I'm sure you don't like talking about your tour, and neither does Dean. By the way, nice try in taking us on a detour. You still didn't answer my question."
"It never left," Sam murmurs.
I look ahead, and I'm tempted to jump out of the Impala and run the rest of the way to my truck. I wait until the car is parked before I get out. I feel nostalgia creep up on me. I hear Sam shut his door.
"God, I missed you," I whisper to the truck.
"Think fast, Jo!"
I spin around and catch my truck keys just before they can hit the ground. I almost feel like myself again. But I know I don't have my mom's blonde hair, or my dad's brown eyes. I look nothing like my parents. I look like someone's child, but definitely not John and Mary Winchester's only daughter. "Let's see if she still works." I look to my truck eagerly. "Thanks for this, Sammy."
"I wanted to bring it back before this, but..."
I smile somberly. "I get it. Come on, race ya back home?"
"If I crash, Dean's gonna kill me."
I climb into my truck. "No, Dean's gonna kill me first, then bring you back to kill you."
* * *
"So you didn't tell him?"
Dean and I are sparring with my batons in the bunker library. My previous set has never left the bunker, so when we decided to do the match, Dean had brought them out of retirement.
Since we're in a downtime period, I figure I'd put my new strength to the test. Without my demonic powers of course. Got to keep it fair for Dean since he's not a demon anymore.
"He never asked." I shrug, poking at Dean. I dance back as he moves on me, trying to knock my weapon out of my hand.
"If you don't tell him, he'll find out. And then you'll have some explaining to do."
"Hey, let me ask you something." I pause our session, lightly panting. "How come you and Cas were so quick to accept that I'm me? You didn't think that maybe I was one of Crowley's bitches?" I smirk.
Dean's cheeks redden a bit. "I know, it was pretty out there. But I think how you fought kind of proved it."
I shake my head. "Cas said he figured I was me when he saw me with the batons too. I can't believe my weapon preference is how you identify me. I'm not sure whether that's insulting or not." I purse my lips.
"Well, they saved your life. Cas might've smited you, or I would've done away with you."
"Wanna up the ante a bit?" I ask my brother. "Two per person?"
"I'm game."
We both take another baton each from one of the tables. I don't let Dean get the chance to set himself, I go straight for him. He fumbles in his parry, but he recovers quickly. My older brother has always been a quick fighter, a damn good one too. Even though he's human and I'm not, he gives me a run for my money. He tempts me a few times to get the batons out of his hand with some of my powers.
Dean hits me hard across the face, sending me stumbling to the right, into the library table. I jump backwards, up onto the table, knocking the books of research off. I beckon to Dean, stepping further away from him. He climbs onto the table, briefly looking at his weapons.
"These ever connect or something?" he asks curiously.
"Those don't. These are more mobile, but they don't connect either." I jiggle the ones in my hands. "Easier to hide, easier to surprise people."
"Where'd you get those? Rob someone?"
"Nope, found them, actually." I get into a fight stance. "Come on, Dean. I'm not getting any younger here, and neither are you."
We're light on our feet as we continue our baton battle. I get a little dirty and kick out a Dean, who in turn catches onto my new game. We start going harder, more aggressive. Blows, when received, are a bit heavier now.
Despite my new strength as a demon, Dean bests me. I'm too good of a sport to play even dirtier. I just stare up at my brother, fuming, as he's got me straddled. It's too easy for you. I head-butt him, sending him flying onto his back, onto the table. I climb to my feet, twirling the batons.
"You knew this wasn't gonna be easy," I say.
"If it's easy, where's the fun in that?"
"Hey, Skywalker, Vader," calls Sam. I turn to see him, looking a bit tired. "Mind not trying to destroy the place?"
"Pft, I wish these were lightsabers." I swing my batons around loosely. "We got bored."
"I can see that." Sam starts picking up crumpled papers off the floor, closing strewn open books that got kicked off the table. "You know, for as old as you two are, you sure act like kids sometimes."
"Hey, we're not that much older than you. You're only two behind me, Sammy," I say. "Four behind Grandpa over here."
"Hey now," says Dean. "You're only two behind me, Jo-Jo."
I rest a hand on my hip, watching Sam pick up the strewn research. "Got a case?"
"No, I just heard the ruckus and got curious." He shrugs. "Seriously, guys. Off the table. We eat off there."
"Pretty sure we've eaten off of far dirtier tables."
"Doesn't matter. Come on. Get down."
Quirking my mouth, I hop off the table, Dean follows my lead. I tuck my set of batons under my armpit, holding my hand out for Dean's pair. He hands them back over, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
"We'll call that a draw," he says.
I snort. "Whatever you say, chief. Rematch sometime soon?"
"You got it."
**Hmm, so, Sammy doesn't know. Jo won't tell him.
I love writing Winchester sibling moments. They're just the best.**