Title: Fields of Paper Flowers

Chapter: 5

~~~~~~~~~~

She shinnied down the fire escape at dawn when Meg wasn’t paying attention, making sure the door to the master bedroom was locked. Jo had dressed carefully for her escape, in worn jeans, tennis shoes, and a thick sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Luckily, temperatures were still warm enough that she didn’t need a jacket. Jumping down into an alley that was filled with refuse and the stink of decomposition, her nose wrinkled from the stench. Graffiti covered the brick of the buildings. Several of the lower windows to the buildings were broken, glass shining on the pavement.

Not quite what the stretch of buildings had been like when he’d first brought her here. Then, there was still normalcy. Now, decay was setting in. Soon, the sickness would invade and rot the place completely.

Jo walked to the mouth of the alley and peered into the street. It was practically deserted, the couple people she saw walking looking about with hyper-vigilance. She watched a lone cab pass by, the driver not even glancing her way. Continuing panic made people stay inside. That and the government issued directive that anyone not needing to be outside should stay indoors. Most businesses were closed out of fear. It was unfortunate Jo couldn’t simply disappear into the crowd. She’d have to be careful if she wanted to elude Meg.

She hurried down the block and took off running, taking the first turn that came upon her, sprinting across streets, continuing to move until she felt sick to her stomach. Jo paused to gulp in breath and take in her location. She was in a park and could see the lake if she craned her neck. Strange to see downtown Chicago so empty. Jo hadn’t looked long enough to notice that in a very long time. Once there’d been people all over, running in this very park or reading on blankets. Now, there were none. Once there’d been traffic. Now there were wreckages and evidence of looting wherever she looked.

And the virus hadn’t even hit the city yet. It was coming though. Los Angeles and New York were in the news constantly, sections being fenced off in an attempt to corral infection. It made sense to her that those two cities would be the first.

Where could she go when she had no other destination in mind than to flee?

Navy Pier. At least she could look at the water and wonder…if she jumped in and let herself drown, would she wake up right back where she’d started?

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo was taking an unusual amount of time getting her ass out of bed. Meg poured a healthy amount of whiskey into the cup of coffee Marta had given her and lit up a cigarette in direct violation of Marta’s no smoking in the kitchen rule. She tapped the ashes into the sink, admiring Jo’s work on the cabinets. She’d heard Jo wrecking the place a few nights earlier, but hadn’t gone into the kitchen to see her progress redecorating until now. Three doors were missing and one had a crack reaching nearly from one corner to the next. Several tiles in the backsplash were smashed. All in all, Jo had done a great job in deconstruction.

Meg was thoroughly enjoying this assignment. Sometimes she couldn’t believe he’d actually noticed her out of all the demons. Her job was one the most important ones a demon could have. Gulping down the hot drink, she finished the cigarette, and pushed through the kitchen door into the hallway towards the master bedroom.

“Jo!” She pounded on the door. “Let’s go already! Get your ass in gear!”

There was silence one the other side. Meg tapped her foot, impatient to be out moving. She had plans for their day out. They were going to break in to a movie theater and watch whatever was there. Meg had a craving for movie popcorn and Twizzlers.

“Come on! If you don’t come out in five minutes, I’m picking the movie this time.”

When Jo wouldn’t answer, Meg picked the lock on the door, expecting to see her reading and deliberately keep her waiting. Jo wasn’t in the bedroom. Meg pursed her lips. Usually, this assignment was easy and gave her the opportunity to be close to Lucifer, but sometimes, Jo Harvelle could be as much of a pain in the ass as Dean Winchester. Like now. She strode into the bathroom and found the window open.

“Bitch,” she whispered before turning on her heel and stalking past Marta. There’d be more than hell to pay if she didn’t find Jo before Lucifer arrived later that afternoon.

~~~~~~~~~~

Drawing out her cell phone, fully charged, Jo found a place with a relatively strong signal. These things were becoming spotty at best in recent days. Even the satellite tv was out more often than it worked. Jo could no longer taunt Meg with Project Runway and America’s Next Top Model re-runs unless she took DVDs from a store. Thumbing through the numbers, she chose one and pressed send.

It was picked up after four rings, but all she heard was static. Jo talked anyway, in the hope that some of what she had to say would go through. “Dean, it’s Jo. He’s got me in Chicago, so if you’re anywhere near there…I’ll be at Navy Pier waiting. I’ll stay as long as I can.”

Hanging up, she searched for a place to wait that would give her a somewhat clear line of sight should Dean be able to come for her.

~~~~~~~~~~

In an abandoned house in the suburbs of St. Louis, Castiel set Dean’s phone aside. Did he tell Dean where Jo Harvelle was? Despite the hissing on the line, he’d heard her quite clearly. Chicago. Navy Pier.

The question nagged at him as he sat and waited for Dean to come back with some food. Part of him said that he should tell him. Dean would want to know. He’d been keeping them as close to Illinois as he could on the off-chance he could find her. An irrational, emotional, utterly human response to the potential danger Jo could be in. The other part of him, however, said no. Jo would slow them down. They’d no understanding of her circumstances. What, exactly had she been sorry for in that brief conversation Dean had had with her?

Lucifer had her. They both knew it. What they didn’t know was what he’d wanted with Jo Harvelle.

If he still had his powers, he’d go in, ascertain those circumstances, grab her if feasible, and bring her out. He’d even make her invisible from angels and demons like he had Dean and Sam many months earlier, if that was what Dean really wanted for her. He’d do that for Dean. He’d do just about anything for Dean Winchester. But he didn’t have his powers and no angel answered his pleas for information. Castiel had thought that Anna at least might come to tell him what was happening, yet even she was silent.

Dean entered the room. “I still don’t like taking Bobby back there, Cas.” He set a bag down and started to unpack it. A few canned goods, boxed goods and the like made a little pile on the floor. “What’s he going to do if they storm his house? Tell them hold on while he wheels to the basement door, throws himself down the stairs, and crawls to the safe room?”

“It was his decision to make, not yours. He wanted to be home, so we took him home.”

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it any easier. ” A sigh escaped him. “Phone charged yet? Any calls while I was gone?”

Now was the time to mention the call. Should he? Or should he remain silent? If Dean checked his missed calls listing he’d find her number right there. Staring at Dean’s weary features, Castiel made his own decision regarding Jo Harvelle. It wasn’t as difficult to flip that coin as he’d thought it would be.

~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps Jo should have thought about the sort of people who’d be out in the city besides herself. The reckless. The despondent. The delusional. The weirdos. The hunters. She’d waited for nearly four and a half hours, alternately pacing the area she’d chosen to wait in and sitting still, imagining that conversation she was going to have with Dean about what she’d done. In her mind, none of the scenarios went well: Dean annoyed at having to run and rescue her yet again; Dean angry she’d sold herself; Dean annoyed and angry with her at the same time.

While she wanted to imagine a happy reunion with him in the most desperate of ways, she knew any reunion between them would hardly be happy. Not with the world as it was and her deal hanging over her head.

Jo closed her eyes and leaned her head back, not hearing the man coming up behind her until it was too late. Rough hands grabbed her, dragging her backwards, tipping her chair to the ground. Pain exploded along Jo’s jaw seconds before he punched her in the stomach. Trying to breathe, she watched him set the chair upright, and then he was lifting her, putting her back in the chair and tying her to it. Her legs, her torso, her right wrist were all tied while she forced her aching midsection to expand with breath. Jo spat blood onto his shoes. “What do you want,” she gasped.

The man before her was lean and dark haired, with an unkempt beard and the fervent eyes of a fanatic.

Her free wrist felt like it needed to pop. Raising that hand, she touched the spot on her jaw where he’d hit her. It was already tender.

“I know you. I know who you are…Jo Harvelle. Been watching you for awhile now, girl. I’ve seen you rubbing shoulders with demons, getting it on with that thing in Sam Winchester’s body…and rubbing more than shoulders with him. The things I’ve seen you do with him…. You sure like riding him from what I saw.” His leering glance drifted down her, as though he could see through her thick sweatshirt and jeans.

Nice, Jo thought. A pervert. Don’t I have all the luck?

“I thought I saw a pervert with binoculars in the building across the street. Guess I was right. Did you jerk off as you watched, or tape it and save it for later?”

He backhanded her so hard that her vision swam for long seconds. “Your mama’d be ashamed of you for what you done. Traitorous whore. Ellen Harvelle may have been a hardass bitch, but she was classy under it all. You though? How many of us have you sold out to him? Hmm? You been whispering names to him as he slips it to you?” Vaguely, Jo remembered his name was possibly Tyler and that her mom had once physically thrown him from the Roadhouse. He jerked her left arm out, shoving up the sleeve of her sweatshirt, and twisted her arm. Touching his knife to the sigil, he slid it across the mark in a shallow, stinging cut, drawing a thin line of blood. “What did he promise you?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Must have been something good.” When she didn’t reply, he grinned. “I’ll just have to torture it out of you.”

Jo laughed, genuine mirth of the sort she usually only had at Jim Carrey comedies. The look on his face only spurred her on. She hadn’t had such a decent laugh in months. It hurt her abdomen to laugh that hard, but it felt good. After Lucifer himself working her over for months now, this guy thought he was hot shit in that department? “Torture? Really? You dumb-ass, inbred son-of-a bitch. What kind of drugs are you on? There is absolutely nothing you can do to me that he hasn’t already done.”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that.” Now he tied her left wrist as well.

“Sure. Do it already. Do your worst. Torture me, kill me.” Jo twisted her wrists about in their bonds. He’d tied the rope tight. “Carve up my skin, open me up, pull out some internal organs. Blind me with a cigarette. Cut out my tongue. Break my bones one by one. Do it. You think there’s something he’s missed? Go for it.” She leaned forward as far as she could, wiggling her shoulders in challenge, voice taunting. “Bullet in the brain, through the heart. It doesn’t matter. Keep shooting until my heart stops beating, but whatever you’re going to do…be quick about it. He always knows where I am.”

“You want me to, Jo?”

She leaned back as though unconcerned. “It’s up to you. He won’t be too happy with you though, so be ready for that. You break his toy, you pay the price.”

“You say he always knows where you are?” He snorted. “Course he does. You’ve been here for four hours by yourself. Where’s your demon bodyguard?”

With great skill in the art of melodrama, Meg chose that moment to step from the shadows. She crossed towards them. “Wow. Such a fun game of hide and seek and now a hunter to kill? Bonus!” The smile she favored upon them would not have been out of place at a charity bake sale. “You’re so sweet, Jo. You didn’t have to get me a present. It’s not my birthday. And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “How did you find me?”

“He has his spies, I have mine. I’ve known where you were for about three hours now, but…you obviously wanted some alone time, so I obliged. ” Her attention fixed on the hunter. “I am so out of practice at this, I hope you don’t mind if I toy with you for awhile before killing you? It’s been a long few weeks for me. I should ease back into it. Wouldn’t want to strain myself.” Her smile became anticipatory and cruel, eyes going black.

The hunter ran. Jo guessed he wasn’t prepared to actually deal with the demons he’d seen her with. She waited while Meg took off after him, listening to the sounds of the chase and, ultimately, the drawn out sounds of his slow, lingering death. When Meg returned, she had blood on her clothes and a satisfied grin on her face, cutting Jo’s bonds with quick jerks.

“We should be getting back,” Meg remarked. “He’s coming to see you this afternoon and I know you want to be well rested.”

Standing, she looked to her right. There was a trail of blood leading off into the shadows of the darkened building. From somewhere inside, she heard movement. Someone was coming from somewhere in the stretch of buildings. More hunters? Human crazies looking for someone to play with? Or had the infected found the city at last?

Turning, she followed Meg back towards the apartment building. At five hours and ten minutes after she’d left the apartment, Jo walked back in to her prison. Five minutes later, she realized she’d lost her phone.

~~~~~~~~~~

They found a man’s mangled body, trails of blood leading to one of the doors to the outside, and two sets of footprints. By a lone chair was a bit of cut rope. They didn’t, however, find Jo.

“Damn it!” Dean lowered his gun, seized by the urge to scream out his frustration. “You’re sure she said Navy Pier?”

“Positive. She said she’d wait as long as she could.”

Taking out his phone, he dialed her number, listening for the ring. If she was near, wouldn’t they hear it? There. Nearby. It had to be hers. “Follow that,” he told Cas. Together, they searched, ever alert to attack.

Jo’s phone was on the ground outside. Crouching, Dean picked it up. “Where the hell are you, Jo,” he whispered, glancing at Cas. “This place is giving me the creeps. It’s too empty, too quiet.”

Dean stood, slipping the phone in his pocket just like he had with Ellen’s months earlier, and contemplated their surroundings with suspicion. Chicago was far more devastated by rioting, looting, and vandalism than he’d thought it would be. Other cities weren’t this bad. Kansas City, St. Louis, Indianapolis. None of them were like this. Weird. It was like the entire downtown area was devoid of human life. Where were the people in denial, trying to go about their days? He looked at the buildings in the distance and wondered which one of them Jo was being kept in. It would be somewhere near, wouldn’t it? Had to be. There was only so far a body could run before needing to rest and he knew very well how terror could zap a person’s energy. So, how far could Jo have run before deciding to wait at Navy Pier?

If he walked along the Miracle Mile screaming her name over and over…would she hear him? Was she even now on the move, trying to get herself to safety? Or was she caught once more, returned to captivity and Lucifer?

All the way here he’d imagined finding her waiting. He’d imagined enfolding her in a hug, kissing her like he’d never gotten around to doing before. He’d hold her tight and not let go.

“Should we continue searching?” Castiel’s voice was soft, uncertain.

“No.” Dean shook his head. “She’s not here.”

The sounds of birds echoed in the deserted area.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“So am I, Cas.” He was going to have to say goodbye to Jo and move on. They’d tried every avenue they could think of to find her, reaching this same end every time. He hated letting go of his quest to find her. It tore at him to do it, very real pains in his chest. “Let’s go.”

With a final look about them, Dean headed for the car.

~~~~~~~~~~

The dress Jo found waiting was a pale pink sundress that had a vague Forties feel to the design. A sundress? He must be taking her somewhere hot. She showered before putting it on. After her run through the streets, she felt grimy. What, she wondered, did he have planned for today that required a sundress? A jaunt to some sunny isle to watch it drown in the sea? Or a trip to watch a volcano erupt and hot lava coat several villages of terrified people? She checked her makeup. There was barely a hint of swelling on her jaw from where the hunter had hit her, but creative use of concealer, foundation, and powder disguised the tender spot.

When they’d reached the apartment, Meg had tended to her jaw and the cut on her arm, doing so in the master bathroom with both the bedroom door and bathroom door shut and locked to keep Marta out. Meg said it wasn’t Marta’s business and for a few seconds, Jo had felt something of a camaraderie with her.

Slipping on a pair of sandals, she went out to the living room. Lucifer was already there.

“Marta says you went out today.” His brows raised, waiting for Meg’s report.

There was silence for a few seconds and Jo expected Meg to tell him she’d run off and nearly gotten filleted by a hunter. Instead, Meg shrugged. “It was just a girl’s day out. Target practice, shopping, the usual.” She wasn’t lying exactly. She’d certainly had target practice killing that hunter.

“Really.” One brow quirked upwards. “Marta told me Jo locked the bedroom door against you and went down the fire escape.”

Meg shook her head, as though she couldn’t understand why Marta would tell him that. “No, no, that’s not what happened. I sent Jo on down to get the car while I went back for the apartment keys. The bedroom door had gotten locked by accident. I picked it open, retrieved the keys, and joined Jo at the car. We had an uneventful day.”

His eyes narrowed. “There was nothing I should be aware of?”

In that second, Jo realized he wasn’t as all knowing as he had tried to make her think. He really did need Marta and Meg for information.

He didn’t know Jo had tried to leave.

She touched the mark on her wrist, let her thumb ring around it. How much did he really know and how much was a combination of lies and illusion?

“Not a thing. It was quiet.”

“Marta implied otherwise.”

“Marta was lying.” Meg looked at Jo. “Isn’t that right, Jo?”

If Jo ever wanted to get rid of Meg, now was the time, so why did she find herself nodding, agreeing to the story Meg had put forth? I’m keeping secrets with a demon, she thought. Fabulous. If I wasn’t already going to hell, I would be so going to hell right now. “Absolutely.”

“Mmm.” Turning on his heel, he strode through the dining room and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Why doesn’t he know,” she hissed at Meg.

She shook her head. “Because he wasn’t focused on either of us until he arrived here. If he’d been focused on us, he would have known.”

“He wasn’t watching,” she said to herself in a whisper.

“We got lucky, sweetie. Next time we won’t.” She crossed her arms. “I suggest you give up on your ideas of running away. Next time…. Next time, I won’t wait before retrieving you and I’ll give you some hurts despite what you are to him. A few bruises won’t get me kicked off this detail.”

Jo nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~

He thought of where he was now and how he’d gotten there.

Those dream talks he and Lucifer had engaged in. The angel had taken the form of every person he trusted as months had passed, trying to get Sam’s permission, manipulating his emotions. The more Sam tried to dig in and refuse, Lucifer redoubled his efforts and the wider the aching emotional hole in Sam became.

Dean wasn’t there to help.

Who did Sam have to talk to, to tell him he could resist when he already knew he craved the power being offered? Alluring, enticing. Anything and everything he’d ever wanted. Seductive promises.

Demonic events increased, the earth shaking from natural disasters. And Sam? During that time, Sam began to wish once more that he had that power to pull demons from their host, the power to change things. He started to consider Lucifer’s offer.

Dean wouldn’t return his calls.

Lucifer though…. He was always willing to talk.

Sam’s decline into willingness hadn’t actually taken that long in the scheme of things, certainly no more than a tick in Lucifer’s timetable. As the angel had reminded him many times, time was on Lucifer’s side, not Sam’s.

With flawless timing, Lucifer had physically walked into Sam’s motel room just as he reached his breaking point. He was at his lowest emotionally, having just left his final message for Dean, sunk in a funk of depression so deep that all he’d been able to do was look up and stare at the angel.

“Oh, Sam. Look at yourself. What are you doing here like this?” He’d crouched, shaking his head. “You should be a king on this earth, not cowering in some rundown roach infested dive. You were born for so much more than this! Let me in. Let me give you the world. Most people would have jumped at my offer, but not you. I admire your strength, but isn’t it awfully tiring being strong every minute of every day?”

Strength? He wasn’t strong. He was so far from strong it seemed like an alien concept.

Sensing Sam’s weakness and that the ever widening crack inside him was finally giving way, Lucifer had pounced.

“What are you fighting for really? This world? The people? The same ones who would call you a freak for your gifts?” He shook his head. “Your call is nobler than that, than them. You were born for privilege and power and you know that. You’ve always known you were different. It’s not a bad thing.” He held out his hand. “Take my hand and you’ll finally have your inheritance. The world on a plate. Power to change those things that really need it. You can shape this world, Sam. All you have to do is say yes.”

With a choking cry, Sam broke, reaching for Lucifer’s hand. For months he’d had a hole inside him that Dean’s refusal to talk to him had made. Each time Dean hadn’t returned his calls had felt like physical blows reigning down upon him, slowly beating him to his knees. He’d felt helpless and alone.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“It is,” he’s said in a voice gruff from speaking very little in days.

Lucifer smiled a gentle smile. “I knew you’d see things my way. I did tell you that you would. Thank you, Sam. I mean that.”

Being taken over had felt like being filled up with rage, hate, and heat. He supposed he’d screamed as it happened, though honestly all he remembered was that sensation of his body stretching and of the essence of himself -- his soul -- shrinking until he was a prisoner in his own body, unable to act or do anything save observe. He’d wondered if the angel had burned away the tether between his body and soul, leaving him bouncing about inside himself. It sure felt that way.

And then? Sleep.

Until Jo.

~~~~~~~~~~

Meg was good. Lucifer watched her with Jo and reflected that she had been the right choice for Jo. Meg had all of the qualities needed, especially the most important one, in spades: she was nearly as schooled in manipulation as Ruby had been. Whereas Ruby had manipulated Sam, Meg worked on Jo. He observed her skillfully form those love-hate friendship bonds with Jo, taking the chance of Jo’s spontaneous escape attempt to keep it a ‘secret’ from him. Something they shared that strengthened their bond.

He let her do that, since it worked to his advantage and she was doing what he’d ordered of her.

Oh, he’d known Jo was going to try to escape. It was inevitable she would at some point. The only question was when she would choose to try it. She knew it was futile, that the mark made her a neon sign flashing out to him wherever she was, but at the same time, she needed to think he wasn’t always aware of her. She needed to feel she could keep anything from him if she chose the right time.

Soon, she would depend on Meg more and when the culmination of his plans for Jo arrived, Meg would be the integral part of pulling it all together. She was just as important as Jo in her own way. Both were…ideal.