Five words. Five words are all it takes. They land too easy, too fast. Slide between her ribs, strangle her lungs, stab into her heart. No lead-up. No warning. Not about Dean. About. It flickers before her eyes (too fast, too fast, her teeth start to tremble)—Dean's face above her. Rage and unswerving commitment to every punch. The continual impact, each harder, each deeper, each more painful than the last, her body unable to even rebound to a full reaction before it was happening again. And again.
Her teeth lock.
(It doesn't hurt, and that's nearly dizzying.)
Refusal. She won't. She absolutely will not. She's not fine, but she's fine. She has to be. For this. Everything closes in so fast. Hard. Her arms cross over her middle.
But his following words are too easy. Uncertain. Sympathy that she does feel, too, but suddenly everything is doubling, and too razor close, and maybe it's a little too sharp when it comes out. The wall twelve miles thick required between them, his words and her ability to breathe. The edge of near demand in her mouth. Maybe even almost rebuke, like it implies she has to do all this herself. "It could be any of us later today, Sam. Tomorrow. You need to start working on that right now."
They all do.
"No matter what I say to him, there's no way he's going to stay here. Not while Cas is still out there, and people are getting leads, and as long as he's caught up in that--" Even with them there. It's like feeding an addict. Desperation, anger, and the culminating violence brought on by both, by whoever or whatever has perpetrated all of this, on an endless cocktail. Which means they have to be there. Even though being there didn't stop this. Him. Today. Until the last second. "--everyone's fucked."
(The everyone that is her only so far.)
Jo prays to any god who's forsaken them Dean can't hear her. She shakes her head, and it goes back to what she said to Cas.
"We have to figure out how you all beat it the first time, and we have to do it now. We're out of time." One hand lifts, and she gestures to her face, making a circle with her fingers without letting her expression change. "This is not a get-out of jail-free card."
no subject
Her teeth lock.
(It doesn't hurt,
and that's nearly dizzying.)
Refusal. She won't. She absolutely will not.
She's not fine, but she's fine. She has to be. For this.
Everything closes in so fast. Hard. Her arms cross over her middle.
But his following words are too easy. Uncertain. Sympathy that she does feel, too, but suddenly everything is doubling, and too razor close, and maybe it's a little too sharp when it comes out. The wall twelve miles thick required between them, his words and her ability to breathe. The edge of near demand in her mouth. Maybe even almost rebuke, like it implies she has to do all this herself. "It could be any of us later today, Sam. Tomorrow. You need to start working on that right now."
They all do.
"No matter what I say to him, there's no way he's going to stay here. Not while Cas is still out there, and people are getting leads, and as long as he's caught up in that--" Even with them there. It's like feeding an addict. Desperation, anger, and the culminating violence brought on by both, by whoever or whatever has perpetrated all of this, on an endless cocktail. Which means they have to be there. Even though being there didn't stop this. Him. Today. Until the last second. "--everyone's fucked."
(The everyone that is her only so far.)
Jo prays to any god who's forsaken them Dean can't hear her.
She shakes her head, and it goes back to what she said to Cas.
"We have to figure out how you all beat it the first time, and we have to do it now. We're out of time." One hand lifts, and she gestures to her face, making a circle with her fingers without letting her expression change. "This is not a get-out of jail-free card."