Title: Lost and Found

Chapter: Three

Notes: Castiel’s quote is from S5 ‘Abandon All Hope’.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting there on her couch, Jo became uncomfortably aware that terror did make a person have to pee. She contemplated that fact with disgust and realized she had to let them know before she was desperate. Jo cleared her throat, gaining Sam and Dean’s attention. “Bathroom,” she asked them through the gag.

“Right.” Sam helped her up. “No funny business.”

What funny business could she possibly get into? The only window in there was too small for anything but a cat to get through. She may be somewhat petite in stature but she wasn’t that small. It would be impossible for a grown woman to use it to flee and she didn’t have anything useful as a weapon in there that she could think of. At least not with two men, both very much larger than she was, to contend with.

“Window?” Dean took a few steps towards the bathroom door.

“Really small one. No way she can get out.”

“Okay then.” Dean tossed Sam the keys to the handcuffs and pulled out his phone.

Would he really have denied her the use of the bathroom if it had a window she could have gotten out of? Jo blinked. No, more likely he would have gone in with her, resulting in a very awkward moment for her.

At the bathroom door, Sam undid the cuffs. “Take your time,” he told her. “It’s okay.”

Jo lowered the gag. Okay? Okay? She was so far from okay that she wasn’t sure she’d ever see that again. Jo didn’t comment, going inside and closing the door. She took care of pressing matters first, then washed her face. The cool water felt good, that normal evening act helped to calm her racing pulse. She drew in deep breaths.

Jo gripped the sides of the sink and stared at her reflection, wondering what was wrong with Dean. Aside from tying her up and gagging her, he wasn’t behaving like the man she’d known for years. He was acting like some stranger she’d never met. Holding her gently? Talking in such a kind voice? The only time he’d ever done any of that had been when he’d pretended he was the normal, average guy in order to reel her in. Was he drunk, high, something? The emotion in his eyes even seemed genuine, like he really cared about her in a personal way instead of the way a man cared about a possession. Was he trying to reel her in again and if so, why? He had to know she wouldn’t forget everything that had happened.

And why was it she still wanted to sink against him and let herself rest in his arms? What the hell was up with that? It was like her body was disconnected from her mind, going gaga at the faint scent of his aftershave. None of that made sense and she hated things not making sense. Jo despised this feeling that things were off somehow and that she was one who didn’t understand the reason for it.

Dean and Sam kept exchanging a look of concern that for all the world reminded her of the look her parents had exchanged when Jo had told them she was moving out and going to live with Dean. The look had indicated they’d known something she hadn’t. Her folks had known Dean was bad news and she hadn’t listened. She’d been so set on getting out from under their thumb and living her own life that she hadn’t stopped to think that maybe he’d shown them a face she hadn’t yet seen. Maybe they’d really known what was best. If she hadn’t left with Dean that day, maybe none of this would be happening now. Maybe her life would have been very different if she’d listened.

That look…. Strange to see it on Dean and Sam’s faces. As if they, like her parents, knew what was best.

What did Dean and Sam know that she didn’t? The thought bothered her and she was once again hit with a sharp sense that there was something she’d forgotten about her relationship with Dean, something crucial that utterly defined how they were together; that explained that urge to run to him. It was like the name thing, frustratingly there but something she couldn’t access.

Jo rubbed her wrists with a long sigh. Dean had put those handcuffs tight enough that she couldn’t slip free, yet loose enough they hadn’t chafed. Still, with them on too long, she would develop bruises from the press of metal to her skin. Dean should know that and remember how long it had taken those bruises the last time to fade. He did care about putting bruises where anyone would see them.

They were going to make her go with them, weren’t they? There really wasn’t anything she could do about it right now. The only thing she could do was watch them and look for some weakness she could use to get free. There always was a weakness eventually. She’d found it those times she’d left Dean previously. It’d be harder with two people to watch, however, and she suspected they were going to be watching her in return, scrutinizing everything to make sure she wasn’t thinking of trying to get away. Of course she would be. They’d know that. It was circular really, watching each other and knowing what to expect, yet still hoping it’d be different.

When she could stall no longer, she reached for the doorknob.

Dean was still on the phone when she emerged, pacing her living room. She wondered who he was talking to. He didn’t appear to be very happy with whomever it was, that was for sure.

Sam put the cuffs and gag back on her, his hands gentle as he steered her towards her bedroom. Jo sat on her bed, keeping a wary eye on him.

He slid the overnight bag towards her and sat as well. “Okay, I’m going to hold up everything I packed so far and if you’re okay with it, nod. If not, shake your head and we’ll exchange it.”

They were behaving like she would be able to come back here later, confusing her even more. They made this seem like an impromptu vacation, a road trip with two old friends. Again, the gag and handcuffs spoiled that image.

Dean came back into view, leaning against the doorframe, icepack back on his face. He stood there silent, watching the process.

She drew out the packing as long as possible, knowing what would happen when they were done. Sam would take the bag and leave her alone with Dean, who’d decide they needed some ‘together time’ before they took her away from her safe life. He’d make her stand, undo the cuffs long enough to have her undress, then cuff her to the headboard and make very sure she understood that she was his. He’d ask her if she’d been with any other men since him and if she answered yes, there’d be hell to pay.

She tasted bile in the back of her throat, thick and sour and licked her lips, barely breathing until that sick taste went away.

All too soon the packing was done, including the toiletries. Sam had found that zippered case in the bathroom and filled it. Maybe it should have reassured her that he took the sample sizes she kept in a basket under the sink, but it didn’t. Sample sizes, in her state of mind, meant she wasn’t going to be alive long.

Jo began to cry, unable to hold back that fresh welling of tears. As she’d predicted, Dean told Sam to take the bag to the car and give them a few minutes. She watched Sam leave with a little knot of dread in her belly. With him there, she’d felt sure Dean wouldn’t do anything, but with him gone…. How soon until Dean became the man she remembered? One minute? Two? She wanted to plead with Sam not to leave, to stay there. “Please don’t do this,” she begged Dean around the gag, trying to prepare herself for the feel of his hands gliding along her skin and his mouth on hers. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Dean sighed, set the icepack down on her dresser, and brought the straight chair from the corner to the bedside. He didn’t touch her, sitting in that chair instead of beside her. Clasping his hands together, he leaned over in a casual pose, forearms on his knees. Jo flinched, but he didn’t lean any closer. He stared at her, gaze searching, as though he was looking for something and couldn’t seem to find it. “I won’t hurt you, Jo. So whatever you’re thinking I’m going to do to you, forget it. Not gonna happen. I never have hurt you, nor will I ever. Some part of you somewhere in there knows that; knows all those things you think happened never did happen. That part trusts me, and Sam too. That part has no hesitation about leaving with us. None at all.”

She sniffed, sliding away from him. How did he know about that weird gut feeling she was having? How? He couldn’t know about it. It wasn’t possible.

“If we show you we’ve no intention of harming you, will you promise not to yell? You can have that gag off real soon. I’d rather you have the gag off. If you promise to go with us and do this, I’ll take those cuffs off too. Cooperate and this will go smooth for all of us. I don’t like having to keep you under lock and key.”

If they showed they’d no intention of harming her? Didn’t he understand that they’d already shown intent? They were kidnapping her, for God’s sake! Jo stared at him like she thought he was nuts, which she did.

“You can trust me. You can trust Sam. We won’t hit you, rape you, or anything like that. All I want, Jo, is for you to remember who you really are and once you do, you can bust my balls for this if you still want. I promise I’ll lay there on the ground and let you.”

Who she really was? She knew who she was. She was the one who was going to swallow her fears and take him down once and for all. She was the one who was finally going to beat Dean Winchester at his own game.

“You can tear me a new one and high-tail it back here, but until you’re you again, you’re stuck with us and staying right at my side. I can’t let you go. I can’t let this stand. It’s all wrong. Twisted. This life isn’t yours, Jo. Never was. I intend to prove that to you.”

How was he going to do that?

“We’re going to do a little home tour, hit the highlights and the lows both and then we’ll go to a safe place for awhile. See if it all doesn’t come back to you.” He raised a hand, pointing at the door. “After you.”

Slowly, Jo stood. The choices were clear. She could walk out or be carried out. If she walked, it might begin to lull them, make them careless, and she could make a run for it. Actually doing that scared her. It meant he’d think she was conceding, bending once more to his will.

Jo walked to her front door, waiting there for Dean to open it for her. He turned off the lights, used her keys to lock up, and followed her down the stairs. Aside from when he’d held her a short while earlier, he hadn’t touched her again, another confusing thing. The Dean she remembered had liked to touch her constantly in a display of ownership. An arm around her, hand on her arm, caress to her cheek. He didn’t do that now.

What sort of bizarre game was he playing? She didn’t understand it, or these new rules he was operating under.

Sam slammed the trunk and moved to the back passenger door, opening it. He settled her in, asking if she was comfortable, putting the seatbelt on her, and closing the door. She sniffed and wiped her cheek awkwardly with a shoulder, glancing out of the car at Dean. He still bore that worried expression, talking to Sam in a low voice. She heard a few words, but nothing that gave her any idea what they were discussing.

Dean got in the car, started it, and drove away from her apartment.

She wasn’t going to be safe until Dean was dead. That was clear. But how to accomplish that goal? He had Sam to get his back and Jo had no weapons. She pondered that, growing sleepy as the adrenaline left her system in a rush of fatigue. She fought it as long as she could, not wanting to be asleep and helpless. Well…more helpless than she already was. Her nights with little restful sleep didn’t help. It grew harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

The rhythm of the tires on the road and the car in motion eased her into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

She went willingly enough out the door, but Dean had seen a flare of calculation in her eyes. This acquiescent attitude was brief and wasn’t going to last long. In fact, he thought it was a good bet that it would last just until she got the gag and cuffs off and had a clear shot away from them. He knew better than to underestimate her.

He turned off the lights in the apartment and locked the door behind him using her keys, then pocketed those keys. He’d slip them into her bag later. Outside, Sam had her bag in the trunk with theirs and was leaning in to fasten the seatbelt around her. That position wasn’t going to be the most comfortable with her arms back behind her. Maybe they could undo the cuffs once they got on the road?

Dean glanced at the houses and buildings around them. It didn’t look like anyone had noticed them. Before Sam could get in the car, he took him aside. “She seem a little too suddenly submissive to you?”

Sam shrugged his brows, his contemplative frown lasting only seconds. “She’s obviously biding her time, trying to figure out how to get away, and maybe hurt one or the both of us in the process.”

“What I thought. Think it’s a sign of former Jo?”

“Honestly? No. I think it’s just her cornered and hunkering down to protect herself on some level, trying to keep some dignity maybe by walking out instead of being carried? Did Cas tell you anything about those memories she thinks are real? Something that might explain some of this?”

He looked around Sam at the car. Jo was watching them with her head cocked, leaning against the door trying to eavesdrop. He nodded. “He did, but I’ll fill you in later. Let’s head out before anyone sees our passenger is wearing a gag.”

They headed west, Dean keeping an eye on Jo in the backseat as he drove. She fought sleep. Her head would dip, then jerk back up, and when it dipped and stayed that way, he slowed, pulled to the side of the road, and stopped. “Drive for awhile, okay?” Getting out, he went around the car, but he didn’t immediately take Sam’s place in the passenger seat. Instead, he opened the back door and looked at Jo’s sleeping form. That half-tilted, slumped posture couldn’t be comfortable. Reaching over the seat, he snagged Sam’s jacket, rolled it up, and leaned over Jo to set it on the seat.

Being careful so as not to wake her, he undid the seat belt and gag. Dean maneuvered her against him, taking the handcuffs off her and bringing her hands around to the front of her body. He chafed a hand along one arm. Her skin was cool, but not cold.

She made a noise in the back of her throat.

Gently, he laid her down on the seat with her head on the jacket and brought her legs up before covering her with his own jacket. Jo snuggled down with a sigh, body going limp once more. He brushed her hair back from her face.

While he’d been trying to project a vibe of confidence about taking her with them, he had to wonder if it was the right thing to do. What if they couldn’t trigger a return of old, real memories? What if the Jo who thought he was a psycho ex-boyfriend was here to stay? What would he…they do then? He didn’t want Jo to stay lost when he’d only just found her.

Dean got in the car beside Sam in the front.

He watched Jo sleep, his body turned in the passenger seat. Hours passed. He wanted to sleep himself, yet had a tiny fear that if he did, he’d wake and discover this was a cruel dream; that Jo was still dead. In a way, he guessed it was like she still was because without her memories, she wasn’t the same person.

“You okay?” Sam’s voice was quiet in the pre-dawn gloom.

“Okay with what? With tying her up or with seeing her broken like this?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Either. Both.”

“How do you think I feel about it? Neither sits right.” Dean shifted in the seat. “Zachariah. Man, there’s a douche bag angel who’d deserved everything he got in the end and then some. I’ve been thinking that he knew just how to get to us. Even now he’s getting to us and he’s been dead for a long time. I’d like to kill him all over again. What if this isn’t reversible, Sam? What if this Jo is all we’ve got left?”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I guess we do what we can and if it doesn’t work…we let her go back to her life.”

“Helluva life it is, too. Pain, pain, and more pain, with a dose of fear thrown in to ooze between all those broken, shattered pieces and glue them into something halfway functioning.” He snorted. “God, she’s me.” Dean shook his head. “I don’t want to think about letting her go. Not yet, anyway. It’d suck to lose her again and know that while she’s out there, she’s not out there. If she was herself and had been hunting, it’d be one thing, but this? This reeks of wrongness. Cas said that the connection to her memories is shredded.”

“When something is shredded, there’s still threads attaching the pieces. To me, that implies we have a chance at getting her back and eventually in one piece. Shredded pieces can be put back together like a puzzle, taped up and whole again. Maybe with a few quirks from it. I know something about that.”

They both knew something about being broken and put back together.

Sam’s hands slid along the wheel, changing his grip. “It should be a case of just finding the right key to unlock the memories.”

The words were optimistic, the tone wasn’t. Dean grimaced. “Yeah, that’s gonna be easy.”

“Maybe it will be. Maybe it’ll be as simple as taking her to her dad’s grave or letting her walk through that house.”

He hoped so.

The sky steadily lightened, Dean taking over driving again. “I hate this,” he told Sam in a low voice, taking a long glance in the rearview mirror at Jo. She was still asleep, sprawled on the seat. “I hate tying her up. Feels wrong. Shouldn’t have to do that to her.”

“I know. Especially if she starts remembering Duluth from it. I’d like to not get hit or kicked.”

“You mean like I’ve been?”

“She does seem to have a lot of…anger towards you.”

“You think? I haven’t done squat to cause it ‘cept in her false memories.”

“What did Cas find?”

He explained.

Sam was quiet a long while and when he spoke, it was with an odd authority. “You need to sit and talk to her, get her to talk about her memories and analyze them, look at all the details, even the little ones. Any one of those details could be the one that gets her questioning what’s there in her mind and lets us start putting her back together.” He stretched. “Why would Zachariah shred her memories in the first place? I mean, was he afraid she’d remember on her own if he didn’t and ruin whatever plan he had for her?”

“Sounds like that dick.”

“You think Jo was too stubborn for him?”

Dean glanced at him to find Sam grinning. “Too stubborn for him?”

“Yeah. Come on, Dean, Jo has a stubborn streak a mile wide. You think she gave him hell and he did this to her out of exasperation for her, yet again, breaking through his lies in her head?”

He smiled a little to imagine it. “Damn I hope so. I’d hate to think he zapped her before she had a chance to fight him on it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She dreamed of that honey-haired woman again. In that dream, the woman hugged her, looked her over with a relieved, yet angry stare, and announced she’d never forgive them all. They’d been in this car then, Jo in the back with Sam and Dean with the woman in the front. The trip was tense, the woman remaining angry, Dean speeding and making awkward jokes in an effort to dispel tension, and Jo and Sam quiet. The place changed. She, the woman, and the man in the suit from the diner were at a table. Jo drank a beer while the two did shots.

‘I think I’m starting to feel something,’ he said with an anticipatory, faintly pleased expression.

Jo woke with a gasp. The gag and handcuffs were gone. She was lying down in the backseat, Dean’s jacket over her. She sat up, shoving Dean’s jacket off of her and onto the floor as Dean held a cup over the front seat.

“Here. Coffee. Black and strong. It’s even pretty decent.” He sipped at the cup in his other hand.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Out of all the creepy things he could do, that topped the list.

“Sort of. Do we need to truss you back up?”

She rubbed her wrists. “No. I’ll be good. Where am I going to go? I’ve no money, no i.d.”

His stare indicated he knew very well she was biding her time, looking for a weakness. “Good. Have your coffee. I sent Sam to get some breakfast. Maybe in a couple days we can actually go in to a restaurant -- provided you behave.”

Jo took the cup, opened the top and took a cautious sniff. It smelled like coffee. She took a sip, then another one, tasting a slight sweetness on her tongue. “Is there sugar in this?”

“Two sugars, just how you like it.”

She moved on the seat, careful not to spill the coffee because he’d go ballistic if she spilled on the seats, and settled cattycorner from him. It was easier to see him there and harder for him to reach her unless he lunged. She didn’t recall him ever paying attention to how she liked her coffee. What she did remember was him never giving her coffee how she liked it before. Ever. This was a first.

Jo drank the hot brew and wondered if she’d stepped into the Twilight Zone or something. Dean was hardly behaving like himself. He hadn’t slapped her once for not doing what he wanted her to. Nor had he played any of the emotional games he’d excelled at before. It was confusing and she had to assume this was all just another ploy to get her to think he’d changed.

The coffee was gone by the time Sam got back. He carried three large McDonald’s bags, explaining to her that he hadn’t been sure what she’d want exactly so he’d gotten a few things. She accepted the yogurt fruit parfait and one of the sandwiches, eating slowly while Dean and Sam worked their way through the rest of the food, and wondering why Dean hadn’t told Sam what she’d prefer. He should know. They’d eaten breakfast together many times.

Weird, and the day was only beginning.

She was on her best behavior all morning and into afternoon, coming right out of the rest stop bathrooms, not yelling or screaming. She thought she saw the set of their shoulders relax. A vague plan formed in her mind as Dean actually used the interstates. Usually he avoided them. They’d reached the Illinois, the land of little towns and cornfields, when Jo began to pay close attention to the signs. Portions of Illinois she knew. If she remembered correctly, they should be coming up to a lovely area with plenty of fields.

Jo waited until they’d passed the rest stop and were coming up on an exit with the sign ‘no services’ before putting her plan into action. “I’ve got to pee,” she told them in a matter-of-fact tone.

Dean glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Hold it.”

“I can’t.”

“We just passed a rest stop. I asked if you had to pee. You couldn’t have said something?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t have to go then.”

“Hold it,” he repeated.

Fine.” Jo crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “I’ll pee on the seat.”

“You will not.”

“Sure I will.”

“Jo.”

“Stop me.” She shook her head. “Two choices, Dean. Let me out to pee or get a mess on your seat -- which I’m not cleaning up, by the way.”

Dean took the exit and headed down the road a ways, turning onto a side road. “Fine.” He gestured at the passenger side. “There’s a field.”

She studied the area. No one would see her from the interstate if she’d really had to pee. “I’m not peeing in an open field. You are so not seeing my naked ass again.”

“Again? I’ve never seen your naked ass, Jo, though not without trying.”

She snorted. The more annoyed she made them, the more she thought they really wouldn’t look, thus giving her time to run. This Dean seemed to respect privacy more than the one she’d dealt with before. “I want a bush or tree or something.”

“You want to pee, you do it right there.” He pointed a finger this time.

“You’re such a jerk. Just because you’re a guy and have a urinary targeting device, which means you can pee without dropping trou --”

Sam’s sigh was irritated and loud. “We won’t look. Just go…pee, okay?”

“Fine. But if I catch either one of you watching I’ll be seriously ticked.” Jo eased from the car, acting like she had to pee really badly. She made her way into the field and a little beyond where the fencerows should be, turning and backing up, making sure they weren’t looking. With a smirk, she took off running.

Behind her was the sound of cursing, car doors slamming, and pursuit.