Angel Wings and Demon Pitchforks

47. Standing By

Jo was sick of the drama. She was done with listening and watching her cousins stupidly throw away their lives because they couldn't communicate with themselves or anyone else. So after Michael and Lucifer's break up (which she had definitely eavesdropped on) she avoided both Dean and Michael. Sam was fine, because he was actually smart. 

She was on her bed, texting Charlie and Kevin, when someone knocked on her door. She sighed before saying "come in."

"Hey." Dean slowly opened the door, he seemed hesitant. "Can we talk?"

Jo was sick of the drama. But she loved her idiot cousins to death, and hated seeing them go through this. 

"Of course," Jo made room for Dean on the bed. He didn't sit down. "Whatcha wanna talk about?"

"Just stuff," Dean was staring at the floor now. Jo could feel the tension bleeding from him.

"Sure."  

"Have you ever..." Dean trailed off. Jo waited for him to speak, so there was a long pause.

"...Ever what?" She finally finished for him. 

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands curling around the sheets. This was very unlike him, so it confused Jo. She had been avoiding him, but now he came to her, tail between his legs, but he couldn't seem to make words happen. 

"You ever liked someone who you thought was your..."

"Your...?" Dean stayed silent looking anywhere but at Jo. "Dean if you wanna talk to me you actually have to do some talking."

"I know I just- I don't- I can't. I can't figure out how to say it."

"You use your mouth and make noises that form words." 

Dean paused, unpacking the sarcasm, before standing up again and beginning to pace.

"Have you ever liked someone and thought maybe they were your soulmate, but they can't be your soulmate, because they just can't, because it's not right and soulmates don't even exist and none of this makes sense and none of it is right and you'd get killed for even thinking this at home and now you can't stop thinking about it."

That was it. Jo stood up walking to the pacing boy and stopped him, firmly planting her hands on his shoulders. 

"This is your home now, Dean. We are your family. No one is going to kill or hurt you. Not anymore."

Dean looked at her, tears swelling in his eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. 

"Dean we all care about you here," she continued. "We accept you and we love you, no matter what. You can love whoever you want--" Dean shook his head and cut her off.

"No. That's not-- It doesn't matter. It's okay. I'm fine, I'm totally fine." He started to back away, walking towards the door.

"Dean-" Jo tried to grab his arm again.

"You know what? I'm running late. I have a date with Lisa, my girlfriend." And that was it, he walked away, closing the door behind him.

Jo sighed and sat on her bed, fiddling with a loose thread on her shirt. Her phone buzzed beside her, but she ignored it. Just like Dean was ignoring her help. 

When were her cousins going to accept her help? They pushed everyone away, but then blamed everyone for leaving them alone. She didn't want to watch them go through this anymore. She was sick of watching them push her away. 

The door opened slowly. 

"I thought you had a date," Jo snapped. 

"I-- I don't," Michael said. "I just needed to grab another shirt." His current one was covered in oil and grime. 

Jo nodded and shuffled back on her bed, curling her knees up to her chest. She watched as Michael shifted through his drawer of clothes, which Bobby had made for him so he could move his things from his suitcase. For weeks he had used his suitcase, as if he believed he'd have to leave at a moments notice. 

Michael pulled his dirty shirt over his shoulders, and Jo instinctively looked away from the scars over his back. She didn't know the story behind most of them. She knew the one on his shoulder wasn't from John, but from when he'd been playing around in the car shed when he was six. And the one on his hip was from when he and Dean had been roughhousing in the garden when he was twelve. But still it felt like she was seeing something she shouldn't when she saw his scars.

Jo lay her chin on her knees. "I'm sorry about Lucifer." She really wanted to talk to him about this, to tell him that it was okay that he didn't feel ready for a relationship, and that he wasn't a bad person for breaking it off. Every time she'd tried, it'd ended in an argument or the silent treatment. But she wanted to let Michael know that she was here for him - whenever he grew some and decided to talk about it. 

"Why?" Michael asked, throwing a new, baby blue, shirt over his head. 

"Because it's sad and I'm sorry that you're sad." 

"I'm not sad, Jo." Michael turned around. "And it's not your fault, so you shouldn't feel sorry. So stop bringing it up." 

"No." 

Michael rolled his eyes and went to leave. 

"Stop that," Jo said, uncurling and getting off her bed. "Stop pushing me away. Stop blocking me from your life." 

"I don't want to argue about this, Jo." 

"When will you guys ever listen to me? I want to help!" 

"Then leave me alone," Michael snapped, throwing his hands to the side. "That would help just fine." 

"You wake up in the middle of the night and cry!" Michael left the room, but Jo followed, chasing him through the hallway to the stairs. "You refuse to let anyone get close to you, and I mean literally - I feel you flinch every time I hug you, Michael. You refuse to believe that you deserve any happiness in your life which makes you push away every single person who cares about you!" 

As Michael descended the stairs, Jo clenched her fists. 

"When will you talk about it?" She yelled. 

"Leave it alone, Jo!" Michael yelled back. 

"Stop letting that abusive bastard control your life!" This was the breaking point, this was the reason behind everything her cousins were going through and why they wouldn't talk  to her. She just wanted them to talk to her. "He's dead!"