I knew it, I know you
Gracie Abrams
0:14 —•———————————
𝑰 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐𝒅 𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕
𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 12 : 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 3
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒚
(𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕)

☆

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒉𝒖𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 filled the bunker's library, but honestly? Jovi could barely concentrate on it. The whole atmosphere was suffocating, like a bad perfume lingering in the air. She sat in one of the leather chairs, her phone pressed to her ear, trying to act like everything was totally fine. Spoiler alert: it was not fine. It was so not fine.

"Okay, so I know I've been completely MIA," Jovi said, her voice smooth, but there was a hint of something sharp beneath it, like she was carefully walking a tightrope. "But I swear I've got a good reason."

On the other end, Ares' voice cracked with a hint of panic. "You've been gone for days, Jovi! Kat and I literally thought you were dead or something!"

"Not dead," Jovi muttered, the sarcasm practically dripping from her words. She rolled her eyes, even though no one could see her. "But not far off."

"What does that even mean?" Kat jumped in, clearly annoyed now, but Jovi wasn't in the mood for this.

Jovi sighed dramatically, curling her legs underneath her like she was some kind of Instagram model and not a freaked-out teenager who'd just been tortured by a psycho British woman. "I got kidnapped. By some psycho British woman. She tortured me and Uncle Sam for two days. My Dad, newly resurrected grandmother Mary, and Cas saved us, but... yeah. It was rough."

There was a moment of absolute silence. She could practically feel the shock on the other end of the phone. Well, that went over well, she thought, tapping her nails against the armrest.

Ares broke the silence with a yell. "You what? Kidnapped? Resurrected grandmother? Are you serious right now?"

"Do I sound like I'm joking?" Jovi shot back, her tone dry as a martini and just as bitter. She ran a hand through her hair and leaned back in the chair, trying to pretend like she didn't feel like her entire world was falling apart. "Trust me, I wish I was. And it gets worse."

"How could it possibly get worse?" Kat asked cautiously, clearly trying to keep up with Jovi's rollercoaster of a life.

Jovi hesitated. She could feel the weight of the next words sitting like a rock in her throat. She didn't want to drag her friends into this anymore, but like, could she really keep this from them? No, she couldn't. They deserved the truth. Sort of.

"Remember Aria? From school?" Jovi said, biting her lip as she threw the bomb.

"Yeah," Ares replied, his tone slow, unsure of where this was going. "She's been MIA recently too, but why—"

"She's a witch," Jovi interrupted, her voice deadpan. "And not the cute, quirky kind. The backstabbing bitch was there helping the psycho torture me."

Both her friends exploded simultaneously.

"Wait, Aria? Like, Aria who's been nice to us recently?!" Kat shrieked.

"How does that even make sense?" Ares demanded, his voice on the edge of disbelief. "I mean, I know she's a bitch and all, but a witch too? That's... that's just... it can't be true."

Jovi sat up straight, clicking her tongue in annoyance. "Yeah, well, turns out she's a psycho who likes tying people up and hurting them. She got into my head, used my memories against me. But guess what? I scared her out of my head. Oh, and get this—"

Ares' voice was practically screeching now. "There's more?"

Jovi smirked, even though she didn't feel like smiling. This was the part that made her stomach twist with anger. "Guess who's mom's back in town."

The silence was almost palpable before Jovi heard their shocked gasps.

"No. Way." Kat's voice cracked.

"Yep. And she works with the Brits who tortured me, so that's just perfect." Jovi practically spat the words. This was her mother. The one who'd abandoned her, who she'd never wanted to deal with again, and now here she was—waltzing back into her life like a freakin' fairy godmother. A very psycho fairy godmother.

"Jovi..." Kat's voice softened, a tinge of concern making its way through. "Are you okay?"

Before Jovi could answer, the unmistakable sound of the bunker's heavy door creaked open, and immediately, her spine stiffened. Her head snapped toward the hallway.

"I—uh, I gotta go," she said quickly, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"Jovi—"

"Later, okay?" She hung up without waiting for a response, sliding her phone into her pocket.

The soft click of heels echoed through the hall, growing louder with each step. Jovi tensed as a figure emerged in the doorway.

Jennifer Harding stood there, the very picture of composure. Her tailored navy suit clung perfectly to her figure, and her heels clicked against the tile as she stepped further into the library. Her icy blue eyes locked on Jovi with a determination that made the teenager's stomach twist.

"Gonna have to get the locks changed—" Jovi muttered under her breath before calling out, "Dad!"

Moments later her dad, Sam, and Mary came charging into the room. The moment Dean laid eyes on Jennifer, his face went from zero to beyond pissed in about half a second. It was like watching a volcano about to erupt. "You've got to be kidding me," Dean growled, stepping in front of Jovi like a human shield, his body tense, his jaw clenched. "What the hell are you doing here? And how'd you get in?"

Jennifer didn't even flinch. Her gaze never wavered from Jovi. "I have a key that opens every Men of Letters bunker across the world, including this one. And I'm here to speak to Jovi."

Jovi shot a look between her dad and her mom — mom — and it felt like someone had just punched her in the chest. She had no idea where to look, what to say. She was suddenly so small, trapped between two people who couldn't stand each other. It was ridiculous. This was ridiculous.

Dean folded his arms, glaring at Jennifer. "We already told you no. You don't just get to show up here."

"I'm not leaving until I talk to her," Jennifer said firmly, a little too cool for Jovi's liking.

Sam stepped forward, crossing his arms, his expression filled with barely concealed disdain. "You've got some nerve showing up here after everything."

Jennifer didn't even glance at Sam. Her eyes were focused solely on Jovi. And of course, they were.

"Jovi," Jennifer said softly, the coolness in her voice betraying the slightest hint of pleading.

Jovi opened her mouth to snap something back, but of course, her dad beat her to it. "Well, too bad," Dean snapped, his voice rising. "She doesn't want to talk to you, and neither do I."

Jovi couldn't disagree with that, it wasn't like she wanted to talk to Jennifer but part of her was still curious and wanted to know why her mother left in the first place. But with the way this conversation was going she didn't think she'd ever get a chance to ask the questions that had been nagging at her since she was a child.

Jennifer didn't even seem phased by Dean's words. She simply raised an eyebrow. "Dean," she said, her voice a little sharper, "can we talk? Alone?"

Dean hesitated, his eyes practically slicing through her, but after a long, agonizing moment, he gave a sharp nod. "Fine. But if you try anything—"

"I won't," Jennifer interrupted, her voice cold and composed. She couldn't quite believe how coldly Dean spoke to her these days, she knows she doesn't exactly deserve a warm welcome but it hurt seeing as last time she'd seen him he'd spoken to her so softly and full of care but now that was gone.

Dean turned to Jovi, his face softening ever so slightly as he met her eyes. "Stay here. I'll handle this."

Jovi nodded, her hesitance evident as she watched her father lead Jennifer out of the library. Dean didn't miss the way his daughter's posture stiffened, or the flicker of fear that flashed across her face. It burned in his chest, the protective anger rising in him like wildfire.

Dean stopped short in the hallway, crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet firmly on the floor. His gaze locked with Jennifer's, his face a mask of cold indifference. "You've got five minutes. Talk."

Jennifer didn't flinch. Her chin tilted up, eyes steady and unwavering, like she'd won this fight before it even started. "I want a second chance," she said, her tone even but determined. "A chance to get to know my daughter."

Dean snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him as his head shook in disbelief. A second chance? The words felt like a slap in the face. "A second chance? What does that even mean? You gonna get weekend visits or something? Maybe a little supervised time?"

The sarcasm in his voice was thick, like venom dripping from every word. He was done with this—done with her,

Jennifer didn't bat an eye. She just mirrored him, arms crossing over her chest, staring him down like she had the upper hand. "Yeah, kind of."

He blinked, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "Seriously?" He couldn't even hide the disgust in his voice. Is she for real?

"Yeah," she said, her voice sharper now. "Unless you'd rather I take this to court."

The mention of court hit Dean like a punch to the gut. Court? His fists clenched, the muscles in his jaw tightening. The thought of some judge getting involved, dragging every little mistake he'd made through the mud? The thought of Jovi being in the middle of that? Hell no. He wasn't about to let her life get turned into some circus for Jennifer's benefit.

"She's my daughter, Jennifer," Dean bit out, his voice low, warning. He wasn't gonna let her twist this into something it wasn't.

Jennifer's eyes narrowed. The smile that tugged at her lips wasn't one of relief — it was a smile of challenge. "Actually, she's our daughter," she said, her voice dripping with arrogance. "And if you wanna get in the way, go ahead. But let's be real, Dean. Who do you think a judge is gonna side with? You?" Her laugh was cold, almost mocking. "The man with more criminal charges than anyone can count, who's been declared dead more times than you can remember? Or me—with a clean record, a stable job, and a life? The odds aren't exactly stacked in your favor, are they?"

The words hit him harder than he cared to admit. He knew his record was far from perfect. Hell, he'd spent his whole life messing up — doing things the wrong way. But none of that mattered when it came to Jovi. She was his responsibility. He was the one who'd raised her. And Jennifer? She'd left. She left.

Dean's fists clenched tighter, the rage building in him like a storm. His chest tightened, the anger and frustration threatening to break loose. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, under his breath, barely able to keep the venom from spilling out.

Jennifer leaned back slightly, almost smug, enjoying the tension she was creating. She let her words land, savoring the discomfort on Dean's face. "Listen," she shrugged, feigning indifference, "I'm not here to start a fight. All I want is to see my daughter. That's it."

Dean's mind was spinning. The nerve of this woman, coming back into their lives after all these years, like nothing had changed. Like she hadn't abandoned them when Jovi needed her the most — when he needed her the most. She had a clean record? Yeah, maybe. But Dean knew better than anyone that a clean record didn't mean you were fit to be a parent.

Still, he had to think about it. He had to consider it. Because he couldn't lose Jovi in this mess. He wouldn't.

Fine, he thought. I'll play along for now. But the terms had to be clear. There were rules, and if she thought she could waltz back in and pull her usual crap, she had another thing coming.

"Fine," he spat, the word bitter on his tongue. Jennifer raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at his compliance, but Dean wasn't going to let her get the satisfaction of gloating. "But there are conditions," he said, his voice hard and sharp, every word deliberate. He jabbed a finger in her direction. "You give us a heads-up before you drop by. No surprises. I want to know where you're taking her if you take her anywhere. And most important?" His voice dropped, just for a second, and there was something softer, a warning buried underneath the anger. "Don't let her down. Don't you dare let her down."

Jennifer's smirk faltered just a little, her eyes flickering for a second before she nodded. "I won't," she said quietly, her voice softer now. Dean wasn't sure if he believed her. Was she being genuine? Or was this just another round of manipulation? He wasn't convinced either way, but he had no choice but to let her try. For now.

He gave her a cold nod, but didn't give her the satisfaction of another word. "I'm sure you won't," he muttered sarcastically, turning on his heel and walking away before she had a chance to say anything else.

As he made his way back down the hallway, the weight of the conversation settled in his chest, heavy and suffocating. His mind churned with the implications, but there was no clarity — just a mess of thoughts that wouldn't settle. He hated the feeling of being powerless, of having to let someone like Jennifer back in, just because she was technically Jovi's mother. Hell, she had no right to claim any part of her, not after everything.

But he couldn't make it go away. He couldn't pretend this wasn't real.

He paused for a second as he reached the door to the library, hearing Jovi's voice through the walls. The sound of her talking to Mary made his chest tighten. She was his. He'd raised her, fought for her, kept her alive through more crap than any kid should've had to go through.

And now this. This was the mess he had to fix.

Jennifer says she won't let her down.

Dean didn't buy it. If Jennifer did let Jovi down, then there wouldn't be a court in the world that could stop him from making her regret it.

He'd kill her first.

☆

2000

The sun had just begun its descent on another hot march day in Dallas, Texas, when Dean Winchester walked into the dimly lit bar. The smell of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke filled his nostrils, but he hardly noticed as his tired eyes adjusted to the low lighting. He had been on a long and exhausting hunt, and now, finally, he could relax.

As he made his way further into the bar, his sharp green eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the familiar faces of the townsfolk and the occasional traveler. That's when he saw her. She was a vision of blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty. She sat at the bar, her slim figure perched elegantly on a stool, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in front of her. Their eyes met, and Dean felt a spark of electricity pass between them. A slow, seductive smile spread across her face, and Dean found himself drawn towards her like a moth to a flame.

He sauntered over, his tiredness momentarily forgotten, and slid smoothly onto the vacant barstool next to her. "Hey there," he said, his deep voice laced with a mixture of mischief and intrigue. "Buy you another drink?" he asked, nodding at her glass.

Jennifer turned to face him, her smile widening as she took in his handsome features: the brownish blonde cropped hair, the strong jawline, and the hint of a playful twinkle in his eyes. Dean slid into the seat beside her, he signalled the bartender. "Whiskey and whatever she's having"

She arched a perfectly shaped brow, looking him up and down before taking a sip of her drink. "You always buy drinks for strangers, or am I just special?" she purred, her British accent adding an exotic touch to her sultry tone.

Dean grinned resting his arm on the bar "oh, sweetheart, I'd love to say you're the first but I would be lying"

She snorted at that, shaking her head as she turned towards him properly. Up close she was even more stunning — blue eyes sharp, lips curved into a knowing smirk. She had the kind of face to make men dumb enough to fight over her, and Dean had a feeling she knew exactly how dangerous she was.

"You always this cocky?" She asked.

He shrugged lightheartedly. "Depends. You always this difficult?"

She hummed, tilting her head. "Only when men try to impress me"

Dean chuckled, tapping his fingers against his glass. "Well, how am I doing so far?"

She took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch between them before setting her drink down. "I'll let you know"

Dean laughed, genuinely entertained. He liked her already. "I'm Dean, Dean Winchester"

The blonde smiled warmly "Jennifer Harding"

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?" he asked, curious about the story behind her presence in this small Texas town.

Jennifer took a delicate sip from her freshly poured drink, savouring the burn as it slid down her throat, before answering. "Oh, I'm here on... business," she said, drawing out the word as if there were hidden depths to her reasons for being in Dallas. "And you? You don't strike me as a local."

There was something about her; her confidence, perhaps, or the way she carried herself with an air of hidden power, that intrigued Dean. "Just passing through," he replied, his gaze holding hers. "Taking in the sights, you know." He paused, leaning in slightly. "But I have to say, none of the sights compare to you."

A soft blush tinted Jennifer's cheeks, and she bit her lower lip, a subtle invitation that Dean didn't miss. "Why, Mr. Winchester, again with the charm?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement and desire.

"Guilty," he admitted with a boyish grin, pleasure spreading through him at the use of his name. "Second times the charm right?" Jennifer laughed.

They found a quiet booth in the back, where the soft yellow glow of the lamp above cast a warm light on their faces. As they talked and laughed over another round of drinks, the air between them hummed with an electric current of mutual attraction. Dean learned that Jennifer had grown up in London, and her stories of life across the pond fascinated him. She exuded an air of mystery and intrigue, and he felt himself falling under her spell.

As the night wore on, their bodies inched closer together, until their thighs were touching and their hands rested just inches apart on the table. Dean's pulse quickened as he felt the warmth of her skin, and he knew without a doubt that she wanted him as much as he desired her.

Leaning forward, Dean whispered in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "I don't know about you, but I'd