Title:You are not alone
Pairing/Characters:Jo, surprise character
Summary:Jo wakes up after Carthage, with no idea what’s going on
"All of my memories
Keep you near
In silent moments
Imagine you'd be here
All of my memories
Keep you near
The silent whispers, silent tears" –
"Memories" by Within Temptation
Spoilers:SPN up to 510
Disclaimer:I don’t own, so please don’t sue
Notes: Hope you don’t mind the surprise crossover
Betaed by the awesmoe scoopchick
When Jo woke in the rubble, she didn’t have a clue what had happened. All she remembered was the hellhounds ripping into her and then offering to sacrifice herself to save the others. To save her mother.
Her mother who’d died next to her, who hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, not even then. Jo sat there and touched her stomach. She was supposed to be dead. She should be, she’d died and yet . . .
She could feel the shreds of clothing still around her, not nearly enough to cover her up. She climbed out of what was left of the store, like a lamb escaping the slaughterhouse. The sun shone down on top of her and she shivered. She brushed her hair out of her eyes. There was a clothing store a few buildings further, the door damaged from the explosion and she got inside without as much as picking a lock. She didn’t even look at the clothes she grabbed. An easy pair of jeans, a shirt a few sizes too big and a sweater that made her look like a kid playing dress up.
She’d cleaned up in the restroom in the back of the store, wiping off some of the blood. But she still felt filthy. This wasn’t supposed to be what happened. Was this what Heaven looked like, what Hell looked like? An empty town? Was she a ghost meant to haunt this place for the rest of eternity, or until some hunter came in and salted and burned her remains?
She traced back her steps to see if she could find her own . . . remains. But there was nothing left to find, nothing but her mother’s blood. Jo pushed over the rubble until she found the body. Please God, if you exist, help me! If she survived, shouldn’t her mother have too? How could she have survived? She stepped on a piece of glass, her shoes were over half gone, she could feel the sting on her soles. She cringed, when she suddenly felt something tickling her. She sat down and stared at her feet, there was a small flash of lightening playing over her soles.
She froze. She had to have imagined that, right?
Jo carefully picked up the piece of jagged glass and hesitated for a moment before pushing it into the flesh of her arm. She winced even as the blood flushed forward. “If you prick me, do I not bleed?” she said hesitantly, relief hitting her for a moment before the lightening flash erupted once more, closing down the wound.
She was a monster, some supernatural thing, like the ones her parents had fought and destroyed. A creature, not something human. Jo remembered her mother telling her a bedtime story, of how her father had found her in the rubble after a hunt. He’d just shot a werewolf that had killed a family and he’d found her, the only survivor.
They’d considered handing her over to the authorities, but mom had looked at her and held her and then Jo had grabbed her mother’s hand with her own baby fingers and the both of them knew she was theirs. That she was a Harvelle.
But she wasn’t, was she? She cut herself again, hoping to disprove it. What would Dean think of her now? She’d been so proud of herself for resisting him the night before. But he’d kissed her before she died. A last reprieve for the dying. And she knew, she knew then that no matter how much she might love him, he wouldn’t . . . He cared, he cared a lot, but not like she loved him, like she wanted him to love her.
Would he love . . . something like whatever supernatural thing she was?
She didn’t know. All she did know was that there was a long big road ahead of her, and she had a long time to go before she hit a place where she could call Bobby. Or do whatever else it was she ended up deciding to do.
It wasn’t easy, staring up at the sun and leaving the town behind her. Carrying nothing with her, but the clothes on her back, and the money she’d stolen from the till in the clothing shop. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to come back for it. Not after the mass grave she’d seen while leaving town.
She didn’t know what she was. But she knew one thing. She was Jo Harvelle, and her mother would want her to live. And that’s what she’d do. She wasn’t sure what it was that led her in this direction, but she smiled a few miles out of town as a bike came closer to her and she lifted her finger, hoping for a ride, ignoring the headache building in her head as he came closer.
The rider stopped. He lifted the visor of his helmet and she noticed a young face. Blue eyes looking at her, slightly framed by red curls. He seemed weary. She hoped he didn’t smell the blood still on her.
“Richie Ryan, from Seacouver Washington.” He said, strangely formal.She wasn’t sure why, but it was almost like he was waiting for something, his hand moving slightly to his saddle bag.
“Jo, Jo Harvelle.” Her voice sounded shaky even to herself. Their eyes met and the headache disappeared.
“Need a ride?” he asked, his voice sounding kinder now and he offered her a hand. She said yes.
She just hoped her mother’s memory was smiling on her as she climbed on the back of the bike and held on for dear life.
“So Jo, you wouldn’t happen to have died, quite recently, did you?” Her mouth fell open, and though she knew he couldn’t see her, she knew he felt the way she almost let go at his words.
“How . . .”
“You died, and then you woke up. And you’re scared. I get that. But I promise, you’re not alone.”
She held on to the back of the rider and wished her mother were here.
In case it wasn't obvious ;-)
Surprise Character: Richie Ryan