Supernatural, Jo/Dean
Grave, or Visiting Ash
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for language and angst. Spoilers for end of season 2.
Summary: Sam had this impulse to coerce healing out of the people around him. Jo took this to mean, 'forcing her to visit graves.'
Disclaimer: It’s Kripke’s sandbox; I’m just playing in it :)
It wasn’t Jo’s idea to visit Ash, but Sam wouldn’t take no for an answer. Jo told Sam in no uncertain terms that she just wanted to drop in, say hello to her mother and speed out of Nebraska as fast as Dean and the Impala could take her, but Sam had this impulse to coerce healing out of the people around him. Jo took this to mean, “forcing her to visit graves.”
When Sam first suggested it Jo had sent a pleading look toward Dean, silently asking him to tell his brother to fuck off, that they didn’t want to see Ash, what was wrong with him? Unfortunately, Dean was busy cleaning his gun and he missed her unspoken message.
The problem was that Jo couldn’t tell Sam why she didn’t want to see Ash. How could she tell him that she still pretended that Ash was alive? She pretended that Ash was alive and the Roadhouse had never burned down and everyone was safe, happy and just out of her line of sight.
If Jo stood over Ash’s grave then she would have to come face to face with the realization that he was dead and she didn’t think she was strong enough for that. She thought that Dean would understand, but all he saw was a little girl who was being difficult for no reason.
“It won’t hurt to pay your respects,” Dean snapped at her as they were packing up the motel room. “Just go to Nebraska, leave some flowers or some PBR or whatever at Ash’s grave and go. You don’t even have to see your mom-that’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”
Jo rolled her eyes. “No, that is not what I’m worried about. I just… I can’t…” She swallowed, “You wouldn’t understand,” she finished lamely, forgetting how childish she sounded.
Dean shook his head and stashed his father’s journal in his coat. Glancing around the motel room, he ordered her to pack the salt before she left and disappeared into the bathroom to gather their drying laundry.
Jo bit her lip, shoved her clothes in her bag and stormed out to the car. It wasn’t about her mother. She could hardly bring herself to see the site where the Roadhouse had been. Seeing Ash’s grave was too final. If she saw where he was buried then she wouldn’t be able to play make-believe the way she had been. She thought that Dean, of all people, would understand that.
She didn’t realize that she’d forgotten the salt until Dean stomped out of the motel after her clutching the can. He bitched at her for her forgetfulness-accusing her of being careless-and she bitched back at him for not understanding why she wanted to avoid Ash’s grave.
By the time Sam joined the couple, Jo was hunched in the backseat and Dean was leaning against the side of the car. They were pointedly ignoring each other. “Finally,” Dean grumbled, “let’s hit the road.”
Dean and Jo ignored each other through Oklahoma and most of Kansas. Halfway through Kansas, Sam grew tired of the palpable tension that stretched between his brother and his brother’s on-again, off-again girl. He turned in his seat to look from Jo to Dean. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Jo’s voice was tight, like she was trying to swallow her words before they reached the surface. Dean snorted and turned up the volume on the stereo. AC/DC started wailing on the cassette, Jo crossed her arms and Sam wisely shut his mouth.
When they reached the border of Nebraska, Dean ejected the cassette with an annoyed jab. “What’s going on with you?” He craned his head to look at Jo for a moment before returning his attention to the road. “Don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I know that’s not true.”
Sam cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Jo flicked her eyes from one brother to the other. “I don’t want to see Ash’s grave,” she told Dean softly, wishing he had chosen a less awkward time to press her for answers.
Dean shrugged, “yeah, you mentioned that.” Dean caught Jo’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Why not?”
Jo opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again. Her throat was closing up and the skin on her arms started to prickle. “It would make his death too real,” she whispered, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes.
Dean was silent for a good mile or two. When he spoke, his voice was unusually quiet. “You don’t…” He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to see Ash if you don’t want to.”
Jo’s eyes stung with unexpected tears. She sighed with relief and returned to gazing out the window.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for language and angst. Spoilers for end of season 2.
Summary: Sam had this impulse to coerce healing out of the people around him. Jo took this to mean, 'forcing her to visit graves.'
Disclaimer: It’s Kripke’s sandbox; I’m just playing in it :)
It wasn’t Jo’s idea to visit Ash, but Sam wouldn’t take no for an answer. Jo told Sam in no uncertain terms that she just wanted to drop in, say hello to her mother and speed out of Nebraska as fast as Dean and the Impala could take her, but Sam had this impulse to coerce healing out of the people around him. Jo took this to mean, “forcing her to visit graves.”
When Sam first suggested it Jo had sent a pleading look toward Dean, silently asking him to tell his brother to fuck off, that they didn’t want to see Ash, what was wrong with him? Unfortunately, Dean was busy cleaning his gun and he missed her unspoken message.
The problem was that Jo couldn’t tell Sam why she didn’t want to see Ash. How could she tell him that she still pretended that Ash was alive? She pretended that Ash was alive and the Roadhouse had never burned down and everyone was safe, happy and just out of her line of sight.
If Jo stood over Ash’s grave then she would have to come face to face with the realization that he was dead and she didn’t think she was strong enough for that. She thought that Dean would understand, but all he saw was a little girl who was being difficult for no reason.
“It won’t hurt to pay your respects,” Dean snapped at her as they were packing up the motel room. “Just go to Nebraska, leave some flowers or some PBR or whatever at Ash’s grave and go. You don’t even have to see your mom-that’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”
Jo rolled her eyes. “No, that is not what I’m worried about. I just… I can’t…” She swallowed, “You wouldn’t understand,” she finished lamely, forgetting how childish she sounded.
Dean shook his head and stashed his father’s journal in his coat. Glancing around the motel room, he ordered her to pack the salt before she left and disappeared into the bathroom to gather their drying laundry.
Jo bit her lip, shoved her clothes in her bag and stormed out to the car. It wasn’t about her mother. She could hardly bring herself to see the site where the Roadhouse had been. Seeing Ash’s grave was too final. If she saw where he was buried then she wouldn’t be able to play make-believe the way she had been. She thought that Dean, of all people, would understand that.
She didn’t realize that she’d forgotten the salt until Dean stomped out of the motel after her clutching the can. He bitched at her for her forgetfulness-accusing her of being careless-and she bitched back at him for not understanding why she wanted to avoid Ash’s grave.
By the time Sam joined the couple, Jo was hunched in the backseat and Dean was leaning against the side of the car. They were pointedly ignoring each other. “Finally,” Dean grumbled, “let’s hit the road.”
Dean and Jo ignored each other through Oklahoma and most of Kansas. Halfway through Kansas, Sam grew tired of the palpable tension that stretched between his brother and his brother’s on-again, off-again girl. He turned in his seat to look from Jo to Dean. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Jo’s voice was tight, like she was trying to swallow her words before they reached the surface. Dean snorted and turned up the volume on the stereo. AC/DC started wailing on the cassette, Jo crossed her arms and Sam wisely shut his mouth.
When they reached the border of Nebraska, Dean ejected the cassette with an annoyed jab. “What’s going on with you?” He craned his head to look at Jo for a moment before returning his attention to the road. “Don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I know that’s not true.”
Sam cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Jo flicked her eyes from one brother to the other. “I don’t want to see Ash’s grave,” she told Dean softly, wishing he had chosen a less awkward time to press her for answers.
Dean shrugged, “yeah, you mentioned that.” Dean caught Jo’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Why not?”
Jo opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again. Her throat was closing up and the skin on her arms started to prickle. “It would make his death too real,” she whispered, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes.
Dean was silent for a good mile or two. When he spoke, his voice was unusually quiet. “You don’t…” He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to see Ash if you don’t want to.”
Jo’s eyes stung with unexpected tears. She sighed with relief and returned to gazing out the window.