evilsam_spn | Samuel Winchester's Demonic Pleasure Palace (Part 5 B) (Reply)

Continued from Part A.

*****

Dean didn’t have a specific destination in mind when he started driving. He just knew he wanted to get Jo as far away as possible. They end up in Michigan and Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse. He drove around the building and saw large doors held by chains. He stepped out of the Impala and walked to the trunk, pulling out the crowbar. He snapped the rusted chain and pulled it off, opening the large doors. He drove the car into the warehouse and then got out to close the doors behind them, the headlights of the car illuminating the inside of the derelict building.

Dean used all of the hoodoo brick powder to lay out a circle around the car. He poured a circle of salt just beyond the brick power. He spray painted a devil’s trap inside the circle. He spray painted protection runes around the outside of the circle, whispering a Latin prayer that his dad taught him when he was a kid.

He cleaned his hands and went back to the car, opening the back door and slipping onto the seat as he held Jo in his arms, holding her up.

“Hey, kiddo, how you doing?”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she mumbled, weakly.

Dean let out a soft chuckle. “No one throws up inside my baby, Jo Harvelle.”

“God, your obsession for your car is a little creepy.” She said, giving him an exhausted, weak smile.

She was sweaty and clammy, whimpering softly. Her belly had grown in the four days that they were on the road, tight skin stretched to the limit. She looked like she was going to have a baby any day now. Her skin was like gray parchment, lined and cracked. What was left of her beauty was fading under the deluge of the demon growing inside of her, stealing away her life and spirit.

“You hungry? What do you need?”

Jo took his hand. “You have to kill me. Kill me before the baby is born.”

“No, I can’t—“

“You have to! The baby will be born soon, I can feel him! We can’t live, Dean!”

Dean shook his head, holding her closer. “Come on, Jo, just hang in there with me. Please!”

“This thing is evil! You can’t let this baby live. Please, Dean.”

“No!”

“Then give me my gun, damn it! I’ll fucking shoot myself in the head if you’re too goddamn chicken to do it!” Jo yelled at him, a burst of anger and adrenaline surged through her as she tightened her grip on his arm.

Dean covered his eyes with his hand. “I can’t—“

“I’m dying anyway.”

“No—“

“It’s feeding on me, Dean. I can feel how evil this thing is.”

“Please, Jo…” He whispered into her hair.

“I’ve seen what this demon will bring on the world and I’m glad that I’ll be dead so I don’t have to witness it!” Jo screamed at him. “You have to kill me. Kill me. Kill me, Dean!”

“No!”

“KILL ME!”

Dean pulled away from her and got out of the car. He paced within the circle, feeling trapped despite the fact that he could leave at any time. He turned back to the car and slammed his fists against the trunk of the car. He was hyperventilating and he bent over, trying to slow his breathing, the rush of blood to his head making him nauseous.

“Please, Dean.” Jo whispered, struggling to push her body up against the opened back door. “Please. You have to do it. You know you do.”

“There’s got to be another way.” He said, his forehead pressing against the metal.

Jo shook her head. “We both know that Castiel was right. We have to face the truth now. I have to die so that this demon child is never born. Don’t make me have this baby, Dean. Please. My soul won’t rest if I have this child.”

Dean wiped the tears from his face and turned to look at her. “Forgive me.”

“I do,” she said, nodding. “I already have.”

He knew she was right. There was no way that the child could live; no way was that Jo going to survive. He opened the trunk and pulled out his gun. He could give her a merciful death.

Jo tapped her forehead. “Right here. Make it quick.”

Dean checked the clip, sliding a bullet into the chamber. He took the safety off and pointed it at her forehead. His hand started to shake.

She gave him a smile and then closed her eyes, falling against the blankets, her body relaxing.

Dean swallowed thickly, keeping his finger on the trigger but not pulling.

“Dean, do it,” she whispered, her voice calm and kind. “Give me a little mercy.”

He wondered what Sam felt when he pulled the trigger on Madison. Did he look into her eyes as he pulled the trigger? He never asked Sam and Sam never told him what their last moments were like. It was better that way. Dean spent more than half of his life killing things, putting down the supernatural like rabid dogs, running a knife into the meat suit of a demon and not thinking twice that an innocent human being was dead. But this, this was something else. He couldn’t just take Jo’s life, not like this.

His hand shook again and he dropped his arm, his thumb putting the safety back on the trigger.

“Dean,” she wept, brokenly. “Please.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Dean—“

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I can’t do it. I can’t. I won’t.” Dean said, crying.

Jo slumped against the seat, her hands pressing over her eyes. She held out her hand, looking up at him. “Come here.”

Dean wiped his face, his throat feeling tight and raw, pressure behind his eyes. He took her hand and sat down on the back seat, holding her close.

“You know I always had such a crush on you. From the moment you stepped into the Roadhouse, I knew you were all wrong for me but I didn’t care,” she whispered into his ear, her hand petting his head.

“I can’t kill you, Jo.”

She snorted, wiping her face against his shirt. “Don’t be sorry that you’re still human.”

“There’s got to be another way.” He whispered, knowing that there wasn’t. “Can you forgive me for…not being able to do it?” He ran his hand over her head, cupping the back of her skull and looking into her blood shot eyes. “I’m sorry, Jo.”

She leaned up and pressed dry lips against him. “I understand. I don’t want you to hate yourself any more for the things that you can’t control. Okay?”

Dean nodded, looking away. He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, holding her close, feeling her heart fluttering against him.

“When this baby is born, you have to kill it.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I’ve seen what he will do to this world, to all the people still alive: a lifetime of slavery and pain and torture. Samuel’s son is going to flood the world with our blood, Dean. We’re all going to drown and there’s no peace after death. There’s nothing but more endless cruelty and fear. We can’t let the world end like this.” She said, moving up to place her hands on Dean’s cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “I don’t want to die knowing that you didn’t save the world. Please—“

“It’s too much. I’m not strong enough.”

“Shhhh…you are strong. You must be. We have no one else who can do this but you,” she said, coughing. She sounded like she was about to hack up a lung. She covered her mouth with her hand, coughing so hard that she rocked against Dean. She pulled her hand away and they both stared at the drops of blood and spit on her palm. “Oh God…”

“Jo—“

She lurched against him, flailing. Wetness covered his leg and Jo stared up at him with horror in her eyes. “I think my water just broke.”

“Shit,” Dean said, moving her gently so that she was leaning against the closed door. “Fuck. I’ve never done this before.”

Jo screamed, clutching the door handle and the back of the seat. “Well you better figure it out soon!”

Dean made a face, dropping the gun on the floor of the car. He opened the trunk and pulled out a jug of holy water. He rifled through his duffel bag to find something clean – his flannel shirt. He rushed back to Jo and stared at her, freezing in place.

“Damn it, Dean! You’re going to have to do this!” She screamed at him. “Help me!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered, his hands falling to her pants, pulling them down her legs. He tossed the wet mess out on the floor of the warehouse. “I’m not really looking at—“

“Just do it! I don’t fucking care, damn it!” She yelled, hitting him with her fist.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Dean growled, pulling down her underwear and covering her exposed body with a blanket. He propped up her legs. “Fuck. This is…God, this is…”

Jo let out another scream, panting heavily. “Ohh, it hurts!”

“Breathe with me,” Dean said, trying to help her with the breathing techniques that he taught Sammy to manage pain.

She gripped the door handle and twisted on the blankets, one of her feet coming up to brace against his shoulder. “Get it out! Get it out!”

Dean peaked under the blanket and watched as the head started crowning. “Oh Jesus.” He stared up at the roof of the car as he tucked his hands under the blanket, gingerly feeling around her opening to the soft crown slipping slowly through her. Jo screamed again, but Dean ignored it, staying focused on the feel of the baby’s head coming out of her channel.

“Okay, Jo, just hang in there. Keep pushing. The head is nearly out. I can see part of the baby’s ear and—“

“I don’t need a fucking commentary!” She yelled at her, her feet crashing against his shoulder blade. She yelled again, slamming her fist against the back of the seat. “Get it out!”

“Push, Jo! Damn it, you have to push!”

She screamed, pushing herself up and heaving mightily.

“Push!” Dean yelled at her, watching the baby’s head ease out from her. “Push again, Jo! This time, you need to use your muscles. Brace both of your feet against me if you have to. Push!”

She wailed, arching slightly. Dean closed his eyes to the smell of blood and shit. God, the Impala was never going to be same after this. He looked down to see the baby’s shoulder slide out.

“You’re doing great, Jo. Come on, I need for you to keep pushing. Breathe in and out. That’s right, girl, you got it. You got this!”

“Shut up! Fuck! Fuck!”

Dean grabbed the baby’s shoulder gently, one palm cupping the back of the baby’s head, and gently began to pull as Jo continued pushing and working the baby out of her body. Fucking amazing…Dean never saw anything like it before…and he didn’t ever want to see it again.

“Come on, Jo, you can do it. I need another push and you’re home free.”

She cried out and groaned, pushing one last time. Dean freed the baby’s legs and gently lifted him from between her legs, staring at them both in amazement. Jo fell back on the blankets, sweaty, messy, smelling of bodily fluids that Dean knew would stay with him for a long, long time. The baby’s hands and legs moved, the body squirmed in his palms. It was so small, so innocent. It opened his mouth and sucked in a deep breath and let out a terrifyingly loud cry.

“Jesus, Jo…you…”

“I don’t want to look at it!” She said, moving her face away and holding her hands over her eyes. “Please, I don’t want to see it.”

Dean wrapped the crying baby with his flannel shirt and stepped out of the Impala. He knew that this was a demon child – Sam’s son. How the hell was he supposed to kill a baby?

“Dean,” Jo called, weakly.

Dean walked to the front of the car and opened the side door, placing the baby on the front seat. He moved into the back seat to look at Jo. The amount of blood that was soaking the seat, blankets, and floor boards was too much to be normal post-birth blood.

“You’re bleeding out,” he said, taking off his shirt and bundling it to press between her legs. “Come on, Jo, stay with me. Please. Stay with me, Jo!”

“I’m dying…”

“I know,” he said, crying. “I know. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t let me die for nothing,” she said, raising her hand and holding it against his cheek. He cried again, pressing her face against her neck, holding her tightly.

He was a failure. He couldn’t protect Sammy. He couldn’t save his father. He couldn’t save his friends. What the fuck was left? He felt Jo melt against him and become limp. He held her tightly, rocking slightly as he rubbed his tears into her hair. He was a miserable failure. One by one, he always lost those that he loved.

***

He cleaned her best he could with holy water and spent a long time writing protection runes on her arms and legs with slow and precise movements, making sure that he got them right. He covered her with a blanket that wasn’t completely soiled and carried her body outside. Behind the warehouse, he built a low pyre from sticks and broken wooden crates. He set her down on the pyre and poured salt over her, then sprayed her with the small can of lighter fluid. Stepping back, he lit a book of matches and gently tossed it over her, jumping slightly as she caught fire, spreading quickly. Jo Harvelle was a damn good hunter and she would have a hunter’s funeral: alone in some unnamed field, her ashes blown by wind and the elements. Dean offered up a prayer to any God who was willing to listen. He could only hope that her soul was at peace. At least he would never have to fight her restless spirit on earth. At least he could offer her some kind of peace in death.

The baby let out a mournful cry and Dean thought of snapping his neck and putting him on the burning pyre with Jo. He placed his hand on his forehead, knowing that he couldn’t kill the baby. There was a part of him that hoped evil wasn’t blood, but a question of nature versus nurture. Maybe men created other evil men; that all babies were born with innocent souls, untainted – even the son of the Anti-Christ should have the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe.

It was that bit of doubt that drove Dean nuts. How could he know for certain that the baby would grow up to be nothing but a destroyer? He’d damn his own soul before he took an innocent baby’s life. Who the hell knew? Maybe his soul was already damned anyway.

The baby cried again, a tiny fist moving into the air, and Dean nodded to himself, making a decision. So be it. He would try to protect the baby; he’d give up his life for the child. He would take the baby and go so far underground that they’d exist in caves. He walked to the baby and picked him up, cradling him in his arms. The baby settled right away and Dean sighed, looking at the funeral pyre fire, murmuring every blessing that he knew for her.

He stood and watched her burn until there were only embers and then nothing to ash. He would stand witness for her life and death; for her beauty and courage; for her love and trust. These things he would carry in him for her. The baby slept in his arms and Dean wiped his face dry and looked at the quiet child in his arms, pressing against him instinctively. He walked back to the warehouse and set the baby on the front seat, gently pulling away the flannel to examine him.

The baby was formed perfectly, utterly human in its helplessness. Dean didn’t have any of the herbs that he needed, but he had a non-toxic pen and he began to draw the same runes that he drew on Jo and himself on the child. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that Sammy could find him at any time he wanted. The runes were to hide from the other hunters, demons, and Angels – they would all be gunning for him now. He found it ironic that Sam would be the only one who could offer them safety.

“Maybe that’s the plan,” Dean murmured to the sleeping baby. “Maybe your daddy wanted us to be alone so that he could come and get us whenever he felt like it.”

The baby puckered his lips and Dean realized that he’d have to hit the road and pick up baby stuff and some milk.

“Well, it’s just the two of us now, kiddo.” He said, feeling his throat tighten again. “What the hell do I name you anyway?”

Dean bundled the baby and tucked one of his sweatshirts around him to keep him from rolling off the front seat. He stood up and looked into the back seat of the Impala. It would never be the same again. He walked to the trunk and pulled out a cleaning solution and all the rags that he had. He pulled the crusted blankets from the seat and tossed them away. He wouldn’t be able to get all the stains out, but he could cover the seats to hide the worst of it.

After three hours, the car was as clean as he could get it with what he had. The smell of the cleaning solution made his eyes water or maybe he was still crying for Jo, crying for all of the ones that he lost. He closed the back door and leaned against it. He’d have to hit the road soon, get to a city that wasn’t already completely destroyed, where he could blend in and hide. But first, he had to call Bobby and Ellen.

He found his cell phone in his jacket and he picked it up from the trunk. He scrolled through his contacts and pressed the number to Bobby’s home. It rang only once and Bobby picked up, voice gruff and tense with worry.

“It’s me,” Dean said, softly. “She’s gone.”

“What about the baby? Did you…”

“No. I can’t kill him, Bobby. He’s a baby. What the hell kind of monster am I if I kill a baby?” Dean said, breaking down again. “God, I know I’m probably making the biggest mistake ever and I’ve damned us all to a hell on earth, but Bobby…I can’t do it.”

“Where are you, boy? Why don’t you just come on back here?”

“No,” Dean said, sniffing and wiping his face. “No. I’m off the grid. This number’s not gonna be mine after this call. I wanted to give you and Ellen the coordinates for where I…where I laid Jo to rest.”

“All right.”

Dean rattled off the map coordinates for his location. “Bobby…I…”

“I know, son,” he said, softly. “You take care of yourself, Dean.”

“You, too. You and Ellen stay alive, get out and hide, ride this out for as long as you two can,” Dean said, closing his eyes. “Tell her…tell her that Jo was so brave, to the end. I gave her peace.”

“She’ll not want to hear it right now, but I’ll let her know.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean said, feeling choked up again. “Bobby, you’re like a father to me; you were always there, all my life, especially when dad wasn’t. I’m grateful for that. I love you like a father.”

“I know. You were always my boy.”

Dean choked out a few words, not even knowing what he said. He ended the call and closed the phone, dropping it to the ground. He stomped on it, shattering the cell phone to pieces. He grabbed his jacket and slipped into it, closing the trunk with a firm thunk. Dean slipped behind the wheel and looked at the baby beside him. A little thumb was pushed into his mouth, sucking gently. Could a baby be born evil? Were they all defined by fate, puppets on the string of destiny?