Fields of Paper Flowers
Chapter: 2
Notes: The town Pleasant Plains is real.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Dean, sweetie, is that you?” Ellen Harvelle’s voice was scratchy, the line static-y.
“Ellen. Hey, what’s up?”
“You anywhere near Illinois?”
Dean glanced out the car window at the fields on either side of the road. This part of Illinois wasn’t nearly as flat and boring as northern Iowa scenery, but it was a close second. “Sure am. I’m on fifty five heading north, why?”
“Can I convince you to make a detour and come pick me up?”
He frowned. “Where’s Jo?”
“Oh, hell if I know. A couple of demons worked us, got us split up. I’m supposed to be heading for the rendezvous point we fixed, but there’s no way I’m getting out of here without help and Jo’s not answering her phone. It keeps skipping to voicemail. I think she’s in trouble herself and I can’t concentrate on finding her ass before I extract my own.”
He dragged the map across the seat towards him. “Yeah, I’ll swing by and get you. Where are you?”
“Pleasant Plains. It’s a little town west of Springfield. I’m holed up in the high school. You need to be careful coming in, Dean. The virus is here. Locals are out prowling.”
“That’s just great.”
“Ain’t it though?” She went quiet a moment. “Can you hold on for a sec, sweetie? Just heard something.”
Pulling over to the side of the road, Dean looked at the map. Ellen wasn’t far by his calculations. Maybe forty minutes at the speed limit, an hour if he hit traffic.
The silence at her end had a strange weight to it…. He cocked his head, listening carefully.
Ellen gasped.
“Ellen.” The voice was familiar and alien at the same time. Sam’s.
Dean’s gut clenched.
“I’m here to help you,” Sam’s voice continued.
“Sam?” Relief in her tone. “Well am I glad to see you, boy.”
“Ellen,” Dean yelled into the phone. “Get away from him! It’s not Sam! Ellen!”
The voice continued, grating in it’s menacing calm. “Jo sent me to you. Oh Ellen, you wouldn’t believe the things your little girl has done to ensure you go to a better place than this.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean.” she asked.
Dean closed his eyes for a brief second, then pulled back onto the road. He had to get there. Where was Cas with his ‘I Dream of Jeannie’ blink and get you there power when he needed him?
He still remembered the day he’d changed his mind about cutting Sam loose. The voicemail Sam had left. Simple and to the point with a location and a few words extra. ‘I’m tired, Dean. I can’t do this. I can’t fight him anymore. I can’t…. I’m sorry. ’ Just because he didn’t answer or return Sam’s calls didn’t mean he never listened to the messages or questioned his decision. Dean questioned it every day. He didn’t know what it was about the message that changed his mind and made him desire to run after Sam and save him.
He’d hurried to get there, dreading walking into the room and finding his brother’s lifeless body. What he found was worse. He found Sam’s belongings: clothes, laptop, iPod, phone. Lucifer had taken Sam and left them behind.
Dean was too late to save Sam.
“It means she’s desperate to save you.”
“You’ve seen Jo.” It wasn’t a question Ellen put forth, but rather a statement.
“In every way possible. She loves you very much to do what she did.”
“Ellen, run,” Dean told her, even though he didn’t think she was listening. “For God’s sake, Ellen, get out of there! Get away from him!”
“I’ve seen everything Jo has to offer,” the angel confirmed.
Dean could imagine Ellen there before Lucifer, seeing now it wasn’t Sam, worried for Jo and wondering how to save her daughter. More worried for Jo than herself.
“I promised her I’d take you to a better place. I keep my promises.”
Ellen cried out. Dean heard a scuffling and a sickening crunch that was followed by a thud. The call disconnected.
He stepped harder on the gas pedal, reaching the town, and school, in record time. There was no sign of demons or infected townspeople. All was quiet. Inside the building, in the large gym at one end, Dean found Ellen.
She was splayed out as though she’d been tossed like a rag doll, her neck at an unnatural angle, eyes wide open and staring. On her stomach, was her phone. Dean slipped the phone into his pocket and sat beside her, gathering her into his arms and holding her to him.
“Oh God, Ellen, I’m sorry.”
He cried for her, cradling her body, and when his tears had dried somewhat, Dean carried her to the car. In a field not too far away, he gave her a hunter’s send off, keeping an ear out for the infected.
Dean was too late to save Ellen.
Lucifer 2, Dean 0.
What, he wondered, had Lucifer meant by Jo having sent him? A lie, or something more? Was Jo with him, somehow snowed into thinking he was Sam? Or was there more to it? Could he find her and save her before she did something she’d regret?
~~~~~~~~~~
She woke in a strange room that was large and decorated in soothing pale blues and whites. There was a fireplace -- of white marble it looked like --, directly across from the bed, a mirror above it. Jo saw a white couch in the corner near the wide stretch of windows, placed with a low table and two straight chairs. Tasteful decorations. A few candles here, a painting there. The light blue curtains were open wide, letting in the bright light of the rising sun.
Jo stared at the cloudless sky, hearing three distinct voices. Two were female. The third was his. She sighed. Her throat hurt, probably from the screaming she’d done. The bed was big and soft beneath her naked body. Under different circumstances she would have enjoyed lying there, maybe stretching a little. Jo pushed to a sitting position, crying out from the pull of stiff muscles. The covers pooled about her hips. Looking down at herself, she saw dark bruises mingling with the red of both bite and scratch marks. Her head pounded, nausea rolling in her belly and it seemed that no inch of her body didn’t ache. When he’d said ‘anything’ he meant it.
She dragged the sheets up to cover those bruises, bites and scratches, then raised her left wrist and looked at it. The mark there looked inflamed and painful, yet was the only place on her body that didn’t hurt in some way. Though only two inches in diameter -- covering her wrist --, it was very detailed inside the circle boundary. A triangle with an X over it with two V’s at the tip that created a diamond shape. A sigil? Whatever it was, it was his sign upon her. Maybe she’d look it up later.
The bargain was met. The mark on her left wrist was proof of that.
Jo ran her fingers over it, appalled by some of the things she’d done with him and would continue to do. She felt weird, like a piece of her somewhere inside had been chipped away and stolen. No longer whole. Empty inside. Had she given away her soul? He’d never said it was her soul he wanted. He’d said companionship….
He came through the bedroom door, already dressed, striding straight to her with the sort of sleek reptilian grace that Sam had never had. “It’ll take a few days before you feel better. The link takes a physical toll at first.” He dropped a credit card onto the bedside table, then two keys. “You will feel better within the week.”
How long had she been out? Jo turned her gaze to the table and stared at the card and keys. Her pulse pounded in her temples.
“Buy what pleases you, no matter the cost. Treat yourself, Jo. This apartment you’re in,” he tapped the keys with one forefinger. “It’s yours now.”
She was going to be a kept woman if she took any of that. Her instinct was to refuse.
The angel -- she couldn’t bear to use either Lucifer or Sam for him -- raised his brows. “You can refuse, of course, but…you’ll eventually take it, so why don’t we save time and skip the moral outrage? You and I both know you don’t have a moral leg to stand on.” His smirk was unpleasant. “Especially after last night.”
Bile rose in her throat, sour and thick. Jo forced it back down.
The smirk disappeared. “Take the money and the apartment, Jo. Settle in. I’ll be back to set down a couple rules for this arrangement when you’re feeling better.”
He was gone before she could say a word.
A woman came into view, mid-forties Jo would guess. She came forward. “I’m Marta. I’m here to cook for you and to clean.” She offered her own left wrist. On it was a brand like Jo had, only smaller and not as neat, the design rough. “I will assist you as you wish, Ms. Harvelle. Do you wish anything at present?”
“No.”
“Are you hungry? Breakfast? I could make pancakes or whatever you desire.”
“I’m not hungry.” Not to mention she doubted she’d be able to keep anything down.
“Very well.” Marta nodded. “There is painkiller in the bathroom and fresh towels laid out.” She left the room.
When she was sure Marta wasn’t still standing in the hallway, Jo tossed back the covers and took a deep breath. Slowly, she made her way into the bathroom, stumbling twice and falling heavily to her bruised knees. By the time she reached it she was so exhausted that she was half afraid she wouldn’t be able to finish a shower before collapsing. Her body shook with tremors she couldn’t begin to stop and she had to sit on the edge of the whirlpool tub until they passed.
Her favorite products were waiting in the shower stall. Jo began with warm water, yet it wasn’t nearly enough, her shaking fingers twisting the lever until it went as far as it could go. Steam rolled about her body, skin turning red from the heat, and still she couldn’t get warm. Her teeth chattered. The soap she used stung the open wounds on her body, but Jo persisted through the discomfort. She’d scrub her skin raw if she thought it’d take the taint of him off of her.
She stepped from the shower only when the water went cold on her, wrapping herself in one luxurious robe hanging from a hook and brushing her teeth. Task quickly completed, Jo searched for the painkiller Marta had claimed was there, taking 1000 mg and not caring if it could be too much for her. After swallowing the pills, Jo took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself and frowned. Beneath the scents of her soap, shampoo, and deodorant was something else…. Another sniff. She raised her arm, sniffed once more, and realized what she was smelling.
Him. She smelled him, as though he was part of her now.
Her stomach lurched, Jo barely making it to the toilet. There was nothing but bile and pills to come up. Jo rode the waves of nausea until finally, blessedly, they ceased. More pills replaced the ones she’d thrown up and Jo crept back into bed, falling into a deep sleep that lasted until it was dark.
Not once had she looked into a mirror.
She woke the second time with Marta holding her head over a bucket and her skin burning with fever. For two days she was unable to keep any food or liquid in her stomach, throwing up everything with such force that she was sure her stomach would crawl out her throat with a rush of blood.
Those tremors she’d had the first day continued, accompanied by a pounding headache that blurred her vision, the pain a knife stabbing at her temples. Jo did not rest for three days, rolling in sweat soaked sheets, certain she was dying.
Dying would be an improvement.
The seventh day, she woke, well once more. The bruises, bites, and scratches were gone. Marta ran a bath for her and Jo soaked willingly, letting the heat of the water warm and soothe her. Her stomach growled with hunger and she could smell Marta cooking something that smelled delicious. What had happened, she wondered, to that other female voice she’d heard? Marta said it was only the two of them in the apartment.
Leaving the bath, Jo dried, dressed, and set about exploring the apartment Lucifer had procured for her. It was large, bigger than any place she’d ever lived. The bathroom alone was bigger than those motel rooms she’d stayed in. The layout was simple really. Main hallway at the front door with doors opening to either the living room, kitchen or coat closet. The dining room connected the kitchen and living room, a hallway off the living room leading to two bedrooms. Both bedrooms had a bathroom attached. Jo assumed there was another hallway off the kitchen that led to wherever Marta stayed, because it was obvious from the dust in the second bedroom that it wasn’t used.
She ate grilled chicken flavored with pepper and garlic, new potatoes with butter and green beans. Not the canned kind, but fresh. Jo ignored the milk Marta put on the table, drinking water and coffee instead. She’d rather drink her own piss than drink milk. Her mom had forced enough down her as she was growing up, citing the need for strong bones, to make her gag at the thought. Now that Jo was grown she rarely drank any at all. As Jo ate, she tried to get information from the woman.
“So, worked here long?”
Marta polished something on the side table. “Yes.”
“Who lives here?”
“You do.”
“Who before me? I mean there had to be someone before me. It’s not like this place has been sitting around empty of people and fully furnished for years, right?” She stirred her coffee.
Marta turned to face her. “There was none before you, Ms. Harvelle. We’ve been waiting a very long time for him and for any he would take for himself.”
Jo mulled that over, finishing her lunch. “You mean a bunch of you got together and have kept this apartment paid for just on the off-chance he’d decide to use it for someone whenever he got free from his prison in hell?”
“Yes.”
“Right.” She shook her head. “Are you a demon? Possessed by one?”
Marta smiled. “No. I am, however, honored to wear his mark, even if it isn’t of the sort you have.”
“You didn’t make a deal with him?”
“I offered my service in caring for you.” That smile was chilling. “I killed the other women vying for the position. They had no understanding of what you would be.”
“And what is that?”
She picked up Jo’s plate. “Like you don’t know. You tease me.” Whirling, she disappeared back into the kitchen, remaining out of Jo’s line of sight the rest of the afternoon. Even when Jo went looking for her, Marta was nowhere to be found.
Jo occupied herself with studying the apartment more closely than she had earlier: checking for ways to defend herself and points to make note of. She found a chute in the back hallway that was probably for laundry, but other than that, nothing interesting. Maybe the apartment had been picked because it was so simple in layout and features.
He appeared later that day, as Jo was trying to decide if she could get away with pouring salt at all the entrances, his voice startling her a fraction.
“Marta will just clean it up, Jo. Salt is messy. Besides, it wouldn’t be very nice of you to try to bar the apartment against me. I might take offense at that.”
She glanced over her shoulder and stood from studying the floor at the wide stretch of windows in the living room. “Looks like she already cleaned up salt once. There’s a little left she missed.” She held up her hands to show the residue, then dusted them off.
“They became anxious and took a woman. The woman had some knowledge and used it.”
“What happened to her?” Crossing her arms, she hugged herself.
“One of Marta’s…rivals killed her in an attempt to make it seem that Marta was incompetent. Marta then eliminated her own competition to prevent that happening again. Such devotion she has.”
“What was her name? The woman they took.” Jo watched him as he watched her. He was leaning against the doorway from the hall, not quite as casually dressed as Sam had usually been. She couldn’t recall Sam ever tucking in his shirts.
“Sarah. Her name was Sarah.”
“Who was she?”
“Someone that would never have worked as a choice like you do.”
Jo wondered if she could discover more on the unlucky Sarah from Marta. “Why?”
He shook his head, declining to answer the question. “You’re feeling better I see. Any lingering unpleasantness?”
Aside from the emptiness inside, not really. Jo crossed to the plush couch and sat down. “No.” She could feel the weight of his stare upon her, keeping her head turned to see him out of the corner of her eye. Sighing, he approached, crouching down in front of her. Jo shifted away on the cushions. He followed. Again she moved and the entire sequence was repeated, stopping when he had her trapped against the arm of the couch.
“A couple rules. When I wish a companion somewhere on the outside, you’ll be given time to dress in an appropriate fashion. Dress, heels, jewelry, make-up. Jeans are too casual, though you may wear them on your own time. Be prompt to greet me.” He took her hand, held it, thumb rubbing across the back in soft sweeps. “Use discretion online. Don’t broadcast your location or I’ll be forced to move you. Your next location might not be this pleasant.”
Jo found that while she looked at him, she wasn’t looking at him, her gaze moving from his hands to his chest to his arms…everywhere but his face. She didn’t want to look at him and see his eyes in Sam’s face. “Can I leave? I mean, can I go out and travel a bit if I want? Or do I have to stay here in this apartment?”
“You’re not a prisoner, Jo. You can leave the apartment as often as you like. Let Marta know and a car will be brought for you to drive. A driver as well should you want one.”
When he didn’t say anything more, she asked, “That’s it?” It seemed to her that there should be more rules than that. Those were nothing really.
“More could be added if needed, but yes. That’s it for now.”
Jo tugged her hand free from his, clasping hers together in her lap. “I heard another voice the other day. Who was that?”
He stood, looming over her. “One of my followers. You needn’t concern yourself with her.” His tone had an implied ‘yet’ to it. “Begin to enjoy this life you’ve chosen. Remember, it was your choice.”
A week went by without him appearing again and then another, until six weeks had gone by. For those weeks, he left Jo alone. Why did he do that? Why leave her to her own devices? Not that she was complaining. Jo remained in the apartment, waiting out each day, half afraid he’d return before she’d somewhat recovered from sealing their deal. Physically, she’d healed, but mentally? She flinched when she thought she heard him there with her, desperately trying to make her mind block out the details of their deal.
Alone in her fancy apartment (save Marta), Jo watched as the world began to slide further into hell. Natural disasters increased, animals started to die from new strains of illnesses and that disease being called the Croatoan Virus stopped being quite so isolated. More and more cases were being reported on the news. How could it go so quickly? It was as though time fast forwarded for her.
She grilled Marta about the woman, learning nothing more than that Sarah had done something with auctions, art, and antiques. No last name and certainly nothing that would give Jo a way to hunt down more information. She had a burning need to know the woman who’d been imprisoned here before her. What did she look like? What sorts of things did she like? Had she known Sam before he’d been taken over by Lucifer? If so, how did the angel’s followers know about her unless he told them? It bugged her that some woman had been kidnapped and killed in an attempt to please him.
Around the six week mark, she started feeling somewhat like herself again. The emptiness was still there, a gaping hole inside her, yet wrapped about it was a determination to cope with what she’d done to herself. The decision to give herself to him was hers and hers alone and she’d clean up her own mess. No one could do it for her.
At ten weeks, she took a roadtrip, heading towards the Roadhouse ashes, hoping to find her mom there while knowing she wouldn’t. She took the scenic route, wending her way there across lonely country roads. Somewhere around Sioux City, Iowa, she realized she was hoping she’d just happen to bump into Dean Winchester, which was a ridiculous hope considering the sheer land mass of the United States. What would she even say were she to find him by chance? ‘Hey Dean, how’ve you been? I sold myself to Lucifer to save your life and my mom’s. Any idea where she’s at these days? Oh, and do you know how to break a deal with Lucifer because I’m fresh out of ideas?’
The trip was a bust, doing nothing but dredge up memories best left behind with the state of the world as it was and prove that Lucifer had actually done a part of his portion of the deal: None of the infected she saw noticed her. In one frightening moment, she’d come face to face with three of them and they’d walked right by her without looking her way.
As Jo drove, she started to think of hunting again. Just because she’d made that deal didn’t mean she couldn’t hunt, right? He’d said nothing about it when he’d laid down those light rules. Besides, it’d make her feel close to her mom again while she didn’t know where Ellen was.
Jo set about her hunt, lucking out in finding a lone demon before she’d gone very far. In a different frame of mind, this would have made her suspicious. Finding it was too easy, too fast. She exorcised it, pleased with the familiar activity right up until the left side of her face exploded in pain and she hit the wall so hard her body left a dent in the drywall.
He stood over her, his cold eyes paralyzing her with fear. She could sense the anger coiling inside him. Anger wasn’t something she wanted from him. Anger meant pain and worse. She knew it did. Behind him was a female demon, eyes black in the human face. She was the one who’d hit Jo and enjoyed it if the pleased expression on her face was any indication.
Crouching down, Lucifer grabbed her left wrist, wrenching it, sliding her sleeve up. “Did you really think I didn’t know where you were or what you were up to? This mark links us. I expend no effort to find you.” There was a crack as her wrist popped in his hand.
Too late, she realized he’d been testing her by leaving her alone and that she’d failed his test to abysmal proportions. He’d given her room to hang herself and that she’d done. She coughed, blood speckling her jeans, tasting the metallic tang of it in her mouth.
Behind him, she saw the female demon smirk.
His fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him directly. Jo flinched. Those cold eyes in Sam’s face…. As his fingers tightened, it felt like something broke inside her chest. Her arms and legs wouldn’t work. A strangled scream left her, blood rushing up her throat and into her mouth. More cracking sensations along her ribs and then her back, each accompanied by blinding bursts of torturous pain. She couldn’t escape from it. He nudged her chin up, her head back as far as it would go, pressed to the wall. She couldn’t open her mouth. Jo tried to swallow, to breathe, but the blood kept coming, drowning her. She started to choke. He let go of her wrist only to embrace her. Black spots danced on the edge of her vision. She was going to die and he was the last thing she’d see….
It was gone. All of it. The blood drowning her, the excruciating pains inside of her. Jo dragged in a deep breath, her heart pounding like she’d been running a marathon.
He took them back to the apartment he’d put her in. In a rough jerk, he took her dad’s knife from the sheath at her belt, throwing it towards the wall across the room. It embedded with a thud. Much later, Jo would discover she didn’t have the strength to pull it out. “You’ll do no hunting of any kind or you’ll get a nice taste of hell. Do you understand me?”
She tried to nod.
“That you’d dare to strike one of my own after everything I’ve done for you is insulting, Jo. That you thought you could get away with it….” He released her. “That tells me you haven’t quite accepted our agreement and everything it entails. I’m disappointed in you.” Two fingers beckoned the demon over to join them. “This is Meg. It’s not her real name, but the one she likes best at the moment. She’s going to be your bodyguard.”
Jo wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, fingers shaking. His enforcer, he meant.
“I hate to restrict you, you know that, but after this…. Meg goes with you everywhere.”
He decreed it and so it would be.
“Get up.”
She got to her feet on legs that shook.
“We’re going out tonight. A party. Your dress is in the bedroom. Be ready at nine.”
Jo remained standing where she was long after he’d gone. When she finally looked up, the demon Meg was standing in front of her.
“Well, well, I never thought I’d see you in this position.” She crossed her arms. “Suck it up, sweetheart.”
“Do I know you?” There was something familiar in the way she spoke and the way she stood. Jo racked her brain trying to figure it out.
“I’m sad you don’t remember me. My run in Sam Winchester was short, but pretty fun. Didn’t we have fun together, Jo? I sure enjoyed tying you up.”
“You’re that demon from Duluth.”
With a wide grin, she nodded. “I am! We have lots of time to get reacquainted. I am so looking forward to it. We’re going to be good friends, Jo. I can tell.”
