Normality (Connor and Jo)
Connor woke shivering, bed sheets soaked through with sweat, heart racing. If he closed his eyes he could still see them clear as day - yellow eyes. Sulfuric yellow, glowing with power and rage, and yelling. He felt his feet touch the wood paneling of the bedroom floor. The cold grounded him, helped him sort out reality from dreams, and he welcomed the touch of his older sister as she slipped from her own bed over to his.
"Did you dream about him again?" Her voice was soft and smooth as she held him close. Connor could smell her shampoo, the soap on her skin, and shuddered. He could hear her heartbeat, the gentle rush of blood in her veins, and knew that if he so wished he could crush her throat before she had a chance to stop him.
"Yeah." He whispered.
Her scent changed. Butter smooth -caution- became spicy and sharp -angry determination. "He won't get you. He won't. The Winchesters are close to tracking him down. You don't have to do anything he says... Uncle Bobby sent over a few new anti-demon tomes."
"What if it isn't enough?" Connor asked, rubbing at his aching head. It always ached after one of those
dreams, but from what he had heard from Sam the pain was normal for a vision. Only he had to be the odd-man-out and get the headaches during his sleep. He felt like he had forgotten something, something important, but couldn't figure out what. "I've got demon blood in me... what if it is you
that needs protection from me?
Jo ran her fingers through his hair, long and messy like a certain Winchester's, and shook her head. "We're family. No matter what, family stays together. Get that through your thick skull little bro."
Connor ducked his head. "He says he's my father, in the dreams. And he's mad at me. Mad at himself, too. Thinks I'm... wrong..."
The blonde snorted. "So what? I heard he likes to call everyone he fucks with his kids. His demon kids. His psychic kids. Doesn't mean a thing, hear me?"
"I hear you." With effort, he brushed the morose thoughts aside. So what if he could bench a small car? So what if he could smell a demon or a vampire from a mile away? Even if they were gifts from a demon, Azazel or Angelus or whatever-the-fuck it was calling itself, they were his. They were a part of him and he would use them on his terms, for what he wanted.
"Come on." Jo grinned, punching him on the arm. "Bet you can't beat my high score."
She jumped up and ran for the door. Connor started after the girl, hissing as she tripped him at the stairs, before they tumbled into the Bar proper and over to the Arcade game. As he took aim at the computer generated animals, Jo a warm presence at his side, Connor wondered what it would be like in a few years when the two of them would be old enough to Hunt.
Their mother, Ellen, would hate it, he was sure.
But the part of him that preferred an axe or a machete to a pistol or shotgun would love it, and as he glanced at the smirk on Jo's face he knew she would too. He couldn't remember their father as well as his sister did, but the impressions of hands encrusted with dry blood floated in his memories. Of listening for the heavy footsteps of a warrior returning, and a cross necklace in his hands as he sat on a lap.
They could be like dad. Traveling. Saving people. Hunting.
Maybe he could convince mom to come? After all, family stuck together. No matter what.