Love tonight

Request: Do you think you could do a lion king sort of thing... like Sam and the reader were friends when they were young and everyone thought they’d end up together but then he goes to Stanford and then they meet again after all the shit (all the things he blames himself for) and they have a can you feel the love tonight moment but the reason she had run into Sam was that she needed help as someone who knows of all the things Sam had done and Sam didn’t tell her about what he’d done.

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker, Ellen Harvelle, Bobby Singer

Warnings: angst, threats, mentions of blood addiction, fluff, protective Sam, scared reader

A/N: We are in season five for my story. Gordon is still alive, just like Ellen and Jo. I didn’t make the reader a hunter, rather a shop owner providing weapons, books and ingredients for hunters.

“Listen, I don’t know what you are talking about, Sir. I haven’t seen Sam Winchester for like seven years. The last thing I heard him say was he wanted to leave for Stanford.”

Stepping backward, grasping for anything to fend the angry hunter off you try to calm Gordon.

“I know you were high school sweethearts and all.” Smirking Gordon steps closer. “Do you know what a monster your lover became?”

“I told you I haven’t seen Sam for years!” Panicked you glance at the door of your store. If you can make a run for it you could reach your car. “How can I know about anything he did?”

“He is not a man, he’s a monster drinking demons’ blood.” Gordon steps closer, searching your face as you take another step backward.

“Blood? This is…” Shuddering you try to buy time. “I didn’t know…” Your hands are shaking as you touch the knife in your jacket. “I swear I have no contact.”

“I don’t care, Sweetie. Sam still has a thing for you. Some time ago…” Now he smiles devilish. “I got hold of him, checked his wallet and there was a picture of you and him in it.”

Your heart flutters at Gordon’s words but right now is not the time to remember your feelings for Sam. If you want to make it unharmed out of this situation you need to play along till you can use the momentum and run.

“What else did he do?” Playing your role you clear your throat. “I need to know, Mr. Walker. If a skilled hunter like you is after Sam, he must be a monster.” Your voice is trembling, but you try to give Gordon your best poker face.

“He started the apocalypse, Y/N. Sam Winchester was best buddies with a demon, drank her blood and is one of those ‘gifted’ children.” Gordon smirks as he can see the doubts creep into your thoughts.

“So, he changed a lot…” Whimpering the words you glance at Gordon who secures his gun and that’s the moment you go for a run.

Dashing toward the door you grasp for the door handle; not caring Gordon is closely behind.

When you are out of the door you zigzag to make sure he can’t shoot you. Your breath comes out in heavy pants, but you make it to your car right before Gordon can get hold of you.

All you can think about is to find Sam to warn your friend that a crazy hunter is after him. There is no way Sam would ever do such a thing…no way…

“Ellen, thanks a lot. That guy is a lunatic for sure. He aimed a gun to my head and threatened to kill me if I do not tell him where to find Sam Winchester.” Downing the offered drink in one go you try to calm your nerves.

“Gordon Walker. He won’t give up for sure.” Bobby grumbles as he paces around his living room. “Bastard!”

“Is…is anything true that he said?” Glancing at Bobby you can see the struggle all over his face. “He drank blood and started the apocalypse?”

“Not willingly, Y/N. A demon tricked him, killed his brother and Sam, he went after her. He killed Lilith and…” Bobby nervously rubs his neck.

“I get it. He broke the last seal by killing Lilith…” Smirking you give the elder hunter a wink. “I am no hunter, but I know the Bible and lore like my left hand. So, he is not evil?”

“Who is evil?” When Dean enters the room, you recognize two things. He’s still a handsome bastard and his eyes are sadder now. You assume he went through a lot of shit over the last years.

“Dean Winchester. My secret love…” Teasing the elder brother you hug him tightly. “I heard you are dead, Winchester. Did you play Lazarus?”

“Long story, short. Angel dragged me out of hell. Name’s Castiel and he’s member of team free will now.” Dean smirks, pecking your cheek.

“Missed you, Kiddo. How have you been except for Gordon Walker trying to kill you?”

“Good. Awful. Then good again until that lunatic entered my shop and burned it down after I escaped. I hate that guy for sure.” Glancing over Dean’s shoulder you smile, letting go of the elder brother to run toward Sam.

For a moment you just look at each other. Sam and you never needed many words to understand your friend’s needs. Both of your life’s influenced by your dominant fathers, you gave each other shelter.

Sam holds your hands, gently rubbing his thumb over your skin. He breathes heavily, just like you and then Sam finally places one hand onto your cheek to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

Dean chuckles slightly, while Ellen and Bobby leave the room to give you privacy.

Despite the reason, you found each other again no one can take the moment of your reunion away from you.

“I am sorry Gordon was after you because of me. I did awful things and…” Placing two fingers onto Sam’s lips you shake your head.

“Sam, this wasn’t your fault. That guy is crazy. I know you did a few things you are not proud of, but we all have a past. We need to move on and stop Gordon.” Looking up at Sam, grasping for his hand you stand there in silence.

“Y/N…I am not the young man you used to know. I changed a lot.” Sam’s voice sounds broken, his eyes are sad, so you try to lighten his mood.

“I can see that…” Squeezing his biceps you smirk. “You grow some muscles.” Sam laughs at your words, knowing you want to help him relax.

“Y/N, we need to talk about Gordon and what we want to do now but first…” Wrapping his arms around you Sam sighs as you rest your head against his chest. “I’ve missed you, Y/N. All those years I wondered if you forgot about me.”

“Never, Sam. I never forgot about my best friend, my first love.” Mumbling the words, you close your eyes, just enjoying Sam’s closeness. “I already have an idea on how to take Gordon down…”

“Hmm…my smart girl…”

Watching Gordon fight the cops you smirk. He’s yelling something about the son of the devil, cursing their incompetence.

The cops are unimpressed. They are more interested in the content of Gordon’s trunk. Guns, knives and occult symbols catch their interest and will make sure you won’t hear from Gordon Walker anytime soon.

“Great idea, Kiddo. This way we get rid of him and don’t need to kill him.” Dean whispers as Sam worriedly watches the scene.

“What if he gets out, Dean? What if he goes after Y/N again?” While you look up at Sam his elder brother smirks behind your back.

“I guess you need to make sure your girl stays with us in that case.” Shrugging Dean gives his brother a wink. “Only to make sure she’s safe…”

Nodding Sam takes your hand in his, kissing the knuckles softly. “Dean is right. I think you are safer with us around.”

“If you insist.” Smiling you squeezes Sam’s hand, following the tall hunter toward his brother’s car.

“Well, come on Sammy. You can celebrate your reunion later…”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx​, @screechingartisancashbailiff​, @fallen-wolf22​, @sister-winchesters99​, @mogaruke​, @the-is13​, @helloitsmeamie203​, @sandlee44​, @strayrosesbloom​, @notyourtypicalrose​, @thewinchesterco​, @marvelfansworld​ @hobby27​, @gh0stgurl​, @flamencodiva​, @jay-and-dean​, @voltage-my2dlove​, @spnhollis​, @chonisberonica​, @wittysunflower​, @supernaturalenchanted​, @shikshinkwon​, @yolobloggers​, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space​, @ilovefanfic86​, @linki-locks11​, @eggingamazinglove​, @trumpettay​, @fandom-imagines1​, @thenamelesschibi​, @waywardbaby​, @straycuties9​, @drakelover78​, @stuckys-whore​, @zxph-yr​, @i-love-superhero​, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt​, @deepmuffinspymaker​, @katsav17, @heyitscam99​, @fandom-princess-forevermore​, @neii3n​, @exo-nova​, @cocklesbelli​, @echoesofpassion​, @lauravic​, @shatteredabby​, @deanmonandnegansbitch​, @sea040561​, @lemondropirwin​, @lonewolf471​, @wronglanemendes​, @juniorhuntersam​, @helpmeluci​, @goodgodimaweirdperson​, @shadowkat-83​, @alltimesamantha​, @officialmarvelwhore​, @meganywinchester​, @miraclesoflove​, @maniacproffesor​, @hollymac79​, @kayla-2000​, @gracefultrenchcoat494​, @babygirls-fav​, @spnwoman​, @amiquette​, @alexoloughlinlover32​, @geekofmanyforms​, @jessica-marsh09​, @spnficgirl​, @shut-themoonscone​, @thequeenreaders​, @countrygal17a​, @atomicfandombomb​, @kteelou​, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @defenderrosetyler​, @shortwinchester​, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life​, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @cassiopeia-barrow, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters, @mscarter213, @jo-like-josette, @mep6811, @prettydeaneyes, @rvgrsbrns, @deanwanddamons, @tearsforhan, @skittlebittz, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

Sam/Jared Forever Tags

@moosekateer13, @thevelvetseries, @train-wrecc

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence • Major Character Death

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Supernatural

Relationship:

Dean Winchester!Izzy Hlton

Characters:

Dean Winchester • Izzy Hilton • Sam Winchester • Asmodeus • Dagon • Demons • Hellhound • Ellen Harvelle • Jo Harvelle • Hunters • Crowley • Charlie Bradbury • Bobby Singer • Ruby • Death • Pestilence • Famine • War • Castiel • Angels • Cain

Additional Tags:

Demon Dean Winchester • Demon Sex • Kidnapping • Gay Sex • Blood • Blood Kink • Hate Sex • Love/Hate • Major Character Injury • Major Original Character(s) • Character Death • Past Child Abuse • Past Rape/Non-con • Past Sexual Abuse • Past Torture • Past Violence • Canon-Typical Violence • Violence • Protective Dean Winchester • Bisexual Dean Winchester • Top Dean Winchester • Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings • Izzy is too • Emotional Hurt/Comfort • Emotional/Psychological Abuse

Summary: After being pulled out of hell Dean realizes quickly that the four months he had been gone made way for a lot of changes in the lives of everyone he knows, including the life he had known for himself before he died. Nobody was treating him the same, and there was seriously something going on with his brother that he could not figure out. He was spending most of his time alone nowadays, not really hunting anymore since Bobby and Sam were against it for him, and spending most of his time drinking instead to try and forget. He was angry, pretty much all the time. That anger really worked in his favour though when walking back to the impala he came across a freaking hoard of demons getting ready to attack some blond chick. He didn't know who she was or what the hell all the demons wanted with her, but there was no way he could just walk away. Maybe if he had any idea what trying to save this person was going to lead too he would have just walked away, maybe if he had actually given any thought to the situation before him he wouldn't have put himself in the middle of it, but even before hell he made impulsive and rash decisions... so maybe not.

Previous Chapters:

• Chapter One • Chapter Two: Part One •

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two: Welcome to the Batcave

Part Two

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Izzy watched the other actually curious for a moment to see if he would finally catch what he said. Aaaand, there it was! He had to give the hunter some props, he was taking the fact that he mistaked Izzy for a girl better than he could remember anyone else had. Demons especially hated him for it. Not for the same reasons that humans seemed too, most demons really didn't care what your fucking gender was as they body hopped so often, what they didn't like was that someone so small, sweet, and innocent looking was actually a deadly assassin sent by a prince of hell. And worse, he was good at it. Izzy looked away from him again and back at the book he was holding when Dean started to talk, crossing one leg over the other as he started to look through the book. "If the idiots would just abandon their stupid plans of trying to break Lucifer from the cage I would just leave them alone," Izzy muttered as most of his attention was back to the book in his hands, not realizing he even said it out loud or knowing if Dean had heard about what this specific group of hellions were planning. "I wouldn't count too much on actually finding one, I've only ever found info on one and I can't find that fucker for the life of me. I've never not found a mark before him, it was actually really frustrating…" he said, talking more naturally and easily than he had before with most of his attention focused on something else. He could feel his heart racing as he read through the pages. The first few were just about Cain. How he had become a demon. That was actually interesting even if none of what he was learning would help him track the mother fucker. Cain was the only demon specifically named though. After the chapter on him, the book went on to explain how because of him it had become possible for a human to turn. And what had to happen to said human for something like that to happen and Izzy found that for the first time that he could remember, he was grateful for something. He was really fucking grateful that he couldn't remember being human. Because this shit sucked. 

Dean relaxed his shoulders when the other didn’t point out how obviously awkward his mistake was. It must have happened quite a bit and it was obvious as to why. Though he didn’t dwell on it for too long after catching Izzy mutter under his breath. So Izzy knew about Lucifer and over half of Hell’s plans to free him. Not too many hunters really knew what was going on, just that demons had been kicking up a shit storm lately. He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the table Izzy was sitting on. He raised a brow when Izzy said he’d only found one and he couldn’t track him. “A mark?” He asked, not following him. “Do you think they could make more demons like that? I have a feeling they’d be a bitch in a fight.”

"Not a mark, my marks. Whatever demon I'm hunting at the time," Dean really did get kind of lucky that Izzy had found this book if he wanted to ask questions. The lithe demon was only half paying attention to whatever he was saying, basically only enough to make sure he didn't let the fact that he was one of these demons slip out. "Though he does actually have a mark that turned him in the first place. Didn't know that." Izzy nodded without hesitation at the other males next question though, "Definitely. Seriously time consuming and difficult, but not impossible. Looks like when it does happen, it's usually an accident. And they are definitely totally awesome in a fight. Stronger than a knight of hell but not quite as strong as a prince. And not easy to kill. Our knives won't kill one of them." The book didn't actually tell him that last part, he knew it from experience back when Asmodues was first training him. He had kinda lost his temper at the pretty little blond and actually fucking stabbed him with the same knife he now had hidden in his boot. All it did to the blond was piss him off though. It ruined the dress he was wearing and had left a nasty little scar in his side where he had been stabbed. "So unless you’re Cain with his first blade or have that Colt and bullets that you killed Azazel with, or yanno, a crazy person like me, I would avoid looking for one of them." He took in a deep breath as he slammed the book shut, trying to not let it be seen how incredibly fucking furious he was right now. Well, at least he knew why Asmodues was so keen on him not knowing how he turned. "So uh, yeah. Thanks for the info. Great fucking room ya got here. But I gotta go find a certain prince and tear his fucking head off somehow," Izzy said, his voice showing he obviously was not happy with what he just read if his words didn't give that part away. He was caring less and less about whatever fucking cover he was supposed to be playing here. He couldn't fully remember right now what he had let on that he knew about the man in the room with him but he no longer really cared. He pushed himself down from the table and went to move past Dean, "Nice to meet ya and all that shit and like, thanks for the help…" he paused for a moment to look at the hunter again, fuck it. Dean gave him access to the information he so desperately wanted, he figured he could return the favour with some info that Dean probably actually needed, "By the way, you really should probably get your brother away from Ruby because bitch has him all fucked up, pretty sure that people shouldn't actually be drinking demon blood the way he is. Pretty fucked up. So yeah. Gotta go." 

“Oh they sound great,” Dean said when Izzy confirmed that more could be made this way. “Oh yea, awesome,” He shot back when Izzy went on about them and described them that way and mentioned that the knives were worthless against them. The only good thing that was mentioned was that apparently they were only ever made on accident and there were no rumored army’s full of them. He had noticed the others snapping of the book and the anger rolling off of him, clearly having read something he didn’t like. “Oh yea that sounds like a feasible plan, how do you plan on getting in Hel-?” He was cut off by the other male thanking him for the help. “Wait.” He said, not wanting the other to run off and get killed while half cocked. He didn’t get a chance to say anything else because what Izzy said after that shut him right up. “Wait, what the hell are you talking about?” He asked, his voice showing his own rising anger. “And how the hell do you know who he’s with?” He asked him. This ment Izzy knew who they were before he ran into him tonight. He started reaching for his pistol in a back holster without thinking much about it. “Who are you?” He asked, taking a step back and raising the fire arm.

Izzy rolled his eyes as Dean called after him when he turned and started to walk to the bunkers exit. If he did leave here right now, he really would go straight to the youngest prince and try and kill the fucker somehow. "Oh come on Dean, you're pretty and reckless but I didn't peg you for being stupid. I hunt demons. Ruby is a fucking demon. And your brother is running around with her. Do I really need to connect all the dots for you?" He stopped for a moment when he heard the click of the firearm and rolled his eyes again. Really? First time he ever tried to actually help someone else out and they pulled a gun on him. Not that Dean's pistol would actually hurt him, but he had been serious when he mentioned he liked this jacket. He didn't feel like throwing it out because of a bullet hole after he managed to actually keep it through the ambush.

He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. "I was after her. I really can't fucking stand her. Unfortunately for me, your junkie brother was in the way and I couldn't get close enough without having to kill him first, and since I don't kill humans that wasn't exactly an option." He waved his hand at the pistole pointed at him, looking more annoyed that Dean was pointing it at him than anything else, "But I swear to fuck if you pull that trigger that'll change real fucking fast as I will slit your fucking throat." He wasn't reaching for the knife though, he wasn't scared of the gun and wouldn't pull it unless Dean actually did attack him first. After all, he didn't know the bullet wouldn't hurt him, he would definitely be trying to kill him and Izzy didn't take well to that happening. Threats were usually whatever, a dime a dozen when you did what he did, but actually trying to do it was another thing completely. "Now do you wanna play this game with me too or do you mind if I go now?"

Dean narrowed his eyes when Izzy said he hunted demons. He didn’t say anything for a minute after Izzy said all that and threatened retaliation by cutting his throat. His jaw was tense but he eased the hammer back and lowered his gun. He didn’t like anything he had said. He just knew Izzy was keeping something from him but… he was telling the truth about his brother and Dean hated it. He kept his hard eyes on the blond as he put his gun back in his holster and he pulled out a small piece of paper from his back pocket and grabbed a forgotten pen on the table. He didn't say anything as he quickly jotted something down, folded it and handed it to him. “In case you do something stupid like take on a prince of hell and want back up,” he said, his voice was quiet and calm. His reboiling rage wasn’t aimed at the blond any more so he tried to keep it from exploding on him. He had seen what he could do with that knife of his.

The anger at the hunter seemed to dissipate when he withdrew his weapon and put it back in the holster. Smart move, because the little demon had been deadly fucking serious about retaliation if he tried to shoot him. When Dean handed him that paper and said that, Izzy couldn't stop the confused look that crossed his face. Seriously? We both just threatened to kill the other and Dean was offering to back him up again a second later? What the fuck went on in human fucking heads? He really didn't understand them at all. Especially this one. And this happened to be the first one he spent any length of time with. "Right. Not gonna happen, but thanks? The backup thing. The prince thing is totally happening." After nearly sixty years around Asmodeus, Izzy didn't hold any fear of him. The prince needed Izzy and they both knew it. Besides, that was a long time to spend with anyone, and since the prince had wanted Izzy a secret until he was ready he had been the one Izzy trained with most often before he started throwing demon chum his way to practice with. Izzy knew that mans every fucking move.

Summary: Dean remembers promises and pictures in his mind. And he remembers her.

Characters: Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle

Words: 1K

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, songfic, angst, dream/afterlife sequences, purple prose, I’m sorry

Author’s notes: based on the song Between The Bars by Elliott Smith. Each section begins with a verse from the song.

Dean always imagined she’d taste like cherry pie straight off the windowsill, hot and sticky and sugared. Instead, she tastes like fresh-picked cherries, supple and warm and tart as she is sweet, spilling into his mouth.

“Jo,” he whispers, sliding up slowly, savoring every nuanced shift in her heat, flavor, and breath. “Where’ve you been?”

He settles over her, between her slick, bare thighs, pushes inside her. She’s tight but welcoming – soft, deep and winding. She holds truths left untold, things he wants to hear her voice whisper in delight. He wants to tell her things, too.

She doesn’t answer right away, she just smiles, cups his jaw and lifts her knees aside his languorously thrusting hips. “I never left, Dean,” she finally speaks, and her voice is like a distant bell.

“No,” he insists, tucking his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deep. “No, you died…” He lifts his head, frantic, searching the depths of her lush earth eyes. “You- you came back, but you were dead.”

“Shh,” she quiets him, places a fingertip over his lips. “I’m here now, Dean, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean lets go a sigh and drops his forehead to hers, recalibrates his drive into her warm, willing center. She takes him, all of him, inside where so many secrets lie.

She’s breathing his name and God’s as they come together, flying and grounded and one.

“Dean,” she laughs and twirls away from him, toward the Impala. “Come on!”

Her laugh – he can’t get enough of it. She’s full of joy in this place. She’s sunshine and honey-sweet.

There are no knives here. There are no demons and no monsters.

She’s swaying in blissful silence under the bright summer rays, her dress, gossamer and flowing just below her knees. The light shimmers around her, beckoning his gaze, drawing him in.

But he can’t move – doesn’t want to move.

“Dean, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now,” she says.

She isn’t angry, though, and she isn’t scolding. She’s all warmth and life under the beams of color as the energy of the world clings to her bodice and kisses her lips gold and green.

“I don’t wanna go,” he says, reaching for her from the shaded recess. “I just wanna be with you.”

Jo’s smile stretches wide as she dances toward him, slides across his lap, cool and delicate. Her cheeks are pink, and she smells like crisp, sun-dried cotton, warm and fresh.

He could stay right here forever – with her. He wants for nothing but her when he’s here.

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” she mutters, looping her slim, pale arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Then let’s stay,” he says, wrapping his arms around her tight so she has to stay. “I’ll sing you a song.”

“Mmm…” Jo presses her lips to his throat, and Dean begins to hum her favorite tune.

The night sky is jet shot with diamonds, but Jo isn’t the kind of girl you give diamonds. Jo’s the kind of girl you give the universe. You give her immeasurable colors and shapes, swirling into infinity.

“You’re on the edge,” he says, sipping his beer and watching her wander.

He doesn’t like to let her out of his sight, hates seeing her go, but he loves just watching her. She won’t leave him; she promised, and he believes her.

“The edge of what?” she asks, her voice quiet and small.

“Are you tired, Jo?” Dean asks. “C’mere. Let me hold you.”

She turns and faces him. Her smile is as small as her voice, burgeoning into sadness. “The edge of what, Dean?”

Dean shakes his head.

“The edge of… here,” he answers, and she frowns.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, Dean,” she says, pushing herself up to sit on the hood of the Impala as it glows deep and bright under the stars and the moon.

Dean discards his bottle and stands from where he’s sat on the cooler. He slots himself between her open knees and pulls her to the lip of the hood.

“Lay back,” he says, and she sighs, her small smile chasing away the frown as she sprawls backward, stretches her arms up over her head, fanning her hair around her face.

“Come inside me, Dean,” she whispers, reaching for him from where she lays.

He blankets her body with his own to keep them hidden from the rest.

He’ll never know how to make her come when he needs her, but she’s imminent – always. He doesn’t tell Sam or Cas about Jo’s visits, about her breath, how alive she is, how she keeps him right.

“It’s OK, ya know,” she says. “You don’t have to tell them about me.”

“I know, I just…” Dean shakes his head, and she sinks down over him, takes every inch of his soul and body.

“No one needs to know,” she affirms.

Heaven and earth and Hell move as she moves over him. She squeezes on the up and kisses him on the down. She holds his eyes then, rides him deftly, fully – her hands in his hair.

Dean grips her hips, presses his fingers tight until he leaves marks. He always leaves marks on her, marks what’s his, what will never belong to anyone or anywhere else.

Jo leans forward, hovers her lips, warm and moist next to his ear as she tightens around him and he swells inside her.

“Don’t forget me,” she whispers as they both come undone.

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If you like what you’ve read, please let me know and/or buy me a coffee!

FIC COMP: The Kidverse Arcs

#1 - And Baby Makes Three: The Arrival Of William Dean Harvelle

He had come early. Jo didn’t expect him to come for another three weeks and while she was glad to know the torture of having to stay at home, off of her feet, and waddle around with some parasitic creature growing inside of her, she couldn’t help but be worried at the distance between now and the due date. She’d thought it was just normal pains to begin with, not bothering to move off the couch from where she was watching a documentary on censorship in the media for lack of anything else. It wasn’t until they had continued for almost an hour on and off that she realised what was happening and had called Grey to grab her overnight bag and get her to the hospital as soon as possible.

The entire process had been over before she really realised what was happening, doctors throwing around words like ‘low heart beat’, 'not breathing’ and 'substance abuse’ as she lay on the bed in the aftermath, not really hearing what was going on until she realised that when in all the films and Lamaze class videos they should be handing her the baby, the doctors were instead crowded around the small crib that would be his bed. Grey was the only thing keeping her calm as she realised it, his uncrushed hand brushed across her cheek and rested against her neck carefully, catching her gaze and he spoke soothingly to her until the nurses came to get her to clean up as her son was wheeled out of the room without her even seeing him.

It wasn’t until two days later that Jo was shown to the premature ward, where she could look through the glass at all the other babies and her own, tiny, pale haired boy with the name plate 'Harvelle’ for the first time. Once again Grey had been the one there with her, hand tightly wrapped around her waist and was the only thing that kept her from crashing to the ground when the doctors came around to talk about the boy’s chances being higher than the days before but still worrying. That she’d sat through months of carrying the little thing inside of her safe and sound, and then the second he was out in the real world he was already in danger was hard for her to take as she got a final glimpse of his closed eyes and blond hair before she’d passed out.

During her first chance to feed her son, still not named as Jo wasn’t sure she’d be able to take it if he didn’t pull through, it was also the first time she’d gotten to hold him. The feeling was something completely different to what she expected, not the overwhelming joy she thought would happen as his bright green eyes had looked back at her during his first feed, but she was still happy as she brushed his small tuft of hair back from his forehead. When the nurse went to take him off of her and back to the ward, Jo had stopped her and asked Grey to hold him as well - the completely uncertain grasp he had on the boy was soon gone as she watched her friend get more comfortable with her son in his arms. She wouldn’t tell anyone else, but she’s certain the smile on his face was even wider than her own, even as the different eye and hair colour both scream out that there was no way he was the boy’s father.

The first visitors she had arrived four days after she’d come in, not having gotten the message out until that morning when the doctors finally told her that the baby was in the clear and that they could take him home in a month - just to check for any other issues. Her surrogate-father had been the first to show up, is new partner in tow, and the pair carried in a slew of toys - including a blanket Bobby had refused to let Jody see the underside of which had a Devil’s Trap sewn into it. The older woman had looked confused when she’d come into the room to find Grey holding the baby and wandering about the room as Jo sat on her bed, surrounded by papers she’d been unable to look at for a few younger hunters.

It was on her last morning in the hospital that she as sat, fully dressed and waiting, on the end of her bed with the birth certificate in front of her that she brought the topic up to Grey. He’d come in with her discharge papers and a nurse trailed behind him to come for the certificate, and as Jo’d turned the papers around - child’s name filled in as 'William Dean Harvelle’ and her name and signature under mother - it was obvious he didn’t understand for a brief second before the grin split across his face. She hadn’t mentioned it, she hadn’t even thought about having to mention it, and when she watched him quickly sign his first and borrowed last name, alongside a signature, under the position of father she hadn’t even worried about him saying no.

#2 - Back In Black: The Return Of A Father

The first place he turned his old, slightly beaten bike towards after waking up in the Washington storage-hole was towards the last place he knew the loves of his life were - a little rest stop, just off the highway through Nebraska. What he found when he got there was enough to make his blood run cold; nothing, just the darkened dirt where Harvelle’s Roadhouse used to stand.

He had no idea how he’d gotten back to the hide-out, or how long he’d been out - obviously long enough for a thick, clogging layer of dust to settle on everything he owned and for his only home to disappear from the face of the earth. Too long given the last thing William remembered was the barrel of his friend’s gun pointed at his head as he begged to for help as the burning, clawing feeling of both his wrecked body and the demon infesting his mind ran through him. To him, it was barely a week since he kissed his wife goodbye and put his knife in his daughter’s hand with the promise of being home to see just how long an apple peel she could get this time.

Tires turned towards South Dakota, he fled straight to the next safest place he knew Ellen would go, hoping against hope as he got closer and closer that she would be there and safe with their little girl. The changes in the roads, the cities and towns, and cars he passed didn’t register at all, nothing but how good it felt to have his hair held down by the helmet and the terror that had flooded him first seeing the empty patch of land disappearing with each mile.

The blond hunter arrived out front of the dishevelled looking salvage yard, expecting to see the aging dark bitch and her newest puppy litter outside on the porch as he kicked the park out, once again being disappointed by the lack of familiarity. Bill knocked loudly on the front door, knuckles rapped on the wood in a quick rhythm as he waited for the usually prompt hunter to get to the door. To say it was a shock when he was faced with a much older man, obviously related to the other hunter if the facial growth and penchant for baseball caps was any indication, was an understatement.

“I didn’t know old Bobster had any family. Or that he let them into ‘is house! Can you get him for me?” If the startled look the older man had gotten when he opened the door was shocked, it was a very mild shock compared to the reaction to Bill’s words and question. Obviously the older Singer wasn’t used to people showing up, understandable, Bill thought, given how unwelcoming the man, just over ten years his senior, Bobby could be. Deciding to be delicate about it, he unclipped his helmet and swung it off between his hands as he tried for a bumbling young man with his first pair of two wheels. “Urgent business needs attending to.”

All the act got him was a huge wave in the face and the end of a gun barrel pointed right between his eyes as both men looked at one another, one face unreadable and the other with the look of a very angry, wet cat. “Not. A. Demon.” Bill took a step back and to the side as he spoke, careful to keep his eyes on the other as he wiped what he assumed to be holy water from his face, and reached quickly for the silver cross around his neck before he waved it before the other, fingers touching. “Not a shifter either. I guess you know what kind of business I’m after Bobby for, so I’ll just come in and-”

“Iron.” The gruff response, alongside the almost furious twist to the old man’s face made Bill frown and cock an eyebrow, not quite sure how that could be relevant. “Bill, you need to touch some iron before I let you step foot in my house.”

“Your hou- /Bobby?!/” The blond’s eyes widened as he stared at the other, noting the family features could really easily be the one and the same features of the grumpy hunter he’d been introduced to by Rufus eight years earlier. “Bobby what the fuck happened to you, man?”

“I said iron, Bill. I’ll explain…whatever I can when I know you’re human.” Bobby was surprisingly unreceptive or friendly, given he’d seen the man only four months ago in a stop in on the way home from Miami. Bill thought that the last time the other had forgiven him for accidentally bleeding on his kitchen table, but maybe not if the cool reception was anything to go by.

He waved his hand for a second before he just dropped his helmet, fished out one of the knives he’d picked up from the locker to replace the one he’d given his little Jo and pressed the iron blade against the side of his wrist before holding it out. “Human, through and through. Now lemme in old..er man.”

Bobby stepped back, not quite lowering the gun until Bill had made his way through the Devil’s Trap above the door and into the main lounge-turned-study. The second he spotted the worn old sofa in the same spot as always, the young man felt less and less like a stranger in a strange land at the first familiar thing since he woke up and found his spare bike hidden in the bushes around the back of his store space. The clunks and groans of wood behind him as he settled down on the couch cushion, more worn than when he was there some month’s back, let him know that the much-older-than-last-they-met Bobby Singer had entered behind him, and if the doors on both sides of the room being shut meant anything, it was that there was something seriously wrong going on. And the only thing Bill could attribute that to was the other’s sudden aging.

“So, what happened Singer? You were a much fresher daisy back when I swung past for that patch up back in June.” The teasing tone was easy to hold right up until his hazel eyes met the other’s, Bobby’s mouth twitched in a way that said there was very bad news about to spill from his lips and that he needed to stop playing around. “Seriously, Bobby, what’s happened?”

“Harvelle..” Bobby sounded as worn down as the cap over his brow as he let out a sigh, hand running over his short trimmed beard for a second in contemplation before he looked at the other and asked seriously. “What is the last thing you remember? The very last thing.”

“John’s gun, he was going to kill the thing that jumped me, but I guess he subdued it somehow instead. I just remember that, and then coming to over in Washington. Everything else is null time.” It was hard to think about that moment, and he rested his hand over his stomach where he remembers holding himself together behind the chokes of blood, the pain simmering again in his mind as his thumb rubbed across the area as though holding in the phantom problems again. “Why? What’s what I remember have to do with you getting old?”

“This…is not my lucky day is it. You’re going to need a drink for this.” Without actually waiting for the answer, the older hunter was up and back with two, slightly grimy, glasses and a bottle of whiskey. As Bill raised his glass to his lips, Bobby let out a quiet exclamation before speaking to him again normally, a slightly bitter tone to his voice. “Try not to spill that, but John did kill you. Going on seventeen years ago now.”

“Sev- seventeen /what?/” There was a second where William thought he would loose his glass as he choked and spluttered on the drink he’d taken, eyes wet around the edges as he gasped yet stared at the other in disbelief. “Fuck, pull the other one you bastard. What kind of-”

“I’m not joking, Harvelle. It’s the gods honest truth.” Bobby’s tone was sharp, laced with a slight anger at not having his word believed, but the blond hunter remembers when the man in front of him was greener than that boy Ash’s face was his first night when his first step into the Roadhouse was to a screaming, flying mass of Bill’s little girl threatening him to stay away from her daddy or she’d cut off the tackle her Mama always said boys liked playing with so much while he slept. It was hard to believe much of what he said off the bat like that, even with the visible age difference having grown even wider. “You’ve been dead since that hunt in '95.”

“But… what happened to the Roadhouse then?” Bill’s eyes fixated on the other’s face, still watering but blinking quickly as the fear from before and of not seeing any sign of either of his girls’ around settled back into the soon to be frantic hunter. “What happened to Ellen? Did..when did it burn down? Where is she? What’s happened to her? And J- …Singer, where is my daughter?”

The older man’s look hardened at the other’s questions inexplicably to the other, an almost possessive element to his response quickly quietened the questions and near accusing tone Bill had. “Ellen is... Well... The Roadhouse got destroyed by demons six years ago… Ash didn’t make it out. As for Jo…” Bobby’s voice got tight as he explained about Ash, though it staying as he spoke about Jo complimented the way he paused to down his whiskey before leaning back in his chair, arms folded tightly across his chest and rubbed at his beard for a second considering how to continue.

The news on Ash hit harder than Bill expected it to, the boy had barely been in his life for a year, most of that lost to months on the road only to return to find just how close the genius was to being family each time he came back home. He’d been the one to baby sit Jo at night when Ellen was short staffed from what his wife would tell him, he’d practice identifying leaves and monsters and patterns with his little girl only to find out she had a better system all taught to her by 'Miles’. Ash had made his way into the Harvelle family, and it had been barely a week to the hunter since he’d seen the slightly grubby faced boy-man pretending to lose at poker with Joanna before actually finding it hard to come back from the first loss. But he barely had time to think about that as his heart sank at the way Bobby moved and spoke, not acknowledging hearing any of it other than to stare at the other, awaiting whatever horrible fate had befallen his daughter because he wasn’t there to protect her.

“She’s good, Bill, I believe. Keeps in contact calling for information on this hunt or that, or reporting something through her own knowledge base that might be useful.  Seems happy enough, all things considered.” Bobby’s jaw clenched after he spoke, unwilling to speak further on the matter. Not that Bill really cared, all he heard was that she was doing okay, that she was happy - everything else was a blur as he sank back in relief, until the word /hunt/ stuck out in his mind.

“Did you just say someone is letting my little girl hunt? She’s just a child, Bobby!” The passing of time didn’t connect at all to the young man as he envisioned his little girl, pigtails and awkwardly, knobbly knees and all, running out into one of the many hunt situations that he’d found himself in before. Unable to reconcile it in such a way that could make the idea anything near alright. “What do you mean all things considered? Is she injured? Hurt? Did something get her? Where is she? And her mother, Bobby? /Where are they/.” His voice got more and more aggressive as he spoke, the worry and things the other said getting to him as Bill stood in a flash, hands bunched in the other’s shirt front to lift him - as though it would make the answer come out quicker, like his intimidation could make his family reappear safe and sound at his elbow if he just tried hard enough.

It wasn’t something Bobby was unused to from the other hunter, the infamous Harvelle temper coming not only from Ellen’s side but William’s too, though it had been a long, long time for the older man since anyone had attempted to intimidate, threaten and possibly brutalise the truth out of him. His large hands wrapped around the other’s, a short twist and he had freed himself from the now whimpering, worried grip of the Harvelle man. “You can take up her hunting with anyone you like, but Jo isn’t a little girl any more. She’s.. as old as you were when you died now, Bill. As for the rest - your daughter is fine, she’s in Minnesota, and it’s her story to tell her /father/, not mine.” The bitter tone was re-emerging, though Bill was perceptive enough this time as he scanned the other’s face to realise it was addressed internally rather than at him or anyone else.

“And Ellen?” Bill’s voice wavered slightly, not that the worry about his only daughter was gone the focussed turned to the woman he’d met in high school, who was the first girl to sit on the back of his bike and scream to go faster not to stop, and who was the mother of his child. Bobby’d been evasive when discussing her, even more so than the obvious aversion to sharing whatever secrets his little girl must have. “Where is she, Bobby?”

“She’s gone… Ran off to Mexico a long while ago, and she...she turned her back on Jo and us all, Bill,” The hesitance to explain was clear as day, as the older hunter dipped his head forward, obscuring his face with the bill of his cap. It took a moment for the words to sink in and the delicate way he spoke them was like ice over the boiling rage that flashed up at their meaning. Bobby added calmly and rationally, in the same gruff, almost possessive tone as he’d used earlier - it now making much more sense to the twitching, blond man, “You’ve been dead, Harvelle. For almost twenty years. Things have changed. /People/ change. It’s been a long time, and there are almost none of us left of our generation, Bill, and those of us that /are/ left can’t keep living in the past.”

Bill’s teeth ground together as he looked the few inches down at the other man, never having felt the distinct differences in their ages as pronounced as now - the now even older hunter, maturity and rational arguments soothing over the rash desire of the younger to beat down the other. “It’s not in the past for me, though. It was last week. Tell me, Singer, what am I supposed to do now? Am I even going to recognise my /wife/ when she walks through the door, or am I going to meet a stranger?” He at least had the decency to look ashamed after the words left his mouth, the anger at the idea of having died, of not remembering, of how much things must have changed but without him knowing or being there for it making him react even worse than his temper would usually bring about. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Bill.. This wasn’t easy, it’s never goddamn easy, and we’ve all had to do this too. The reliving thing. The waking up and forgetting it’s not three years ago, that the president is black and that M.A.S.H isn’t even on re-runs any more. It’s hard, but you start with the places you’re missed the most..” Bobby, to his credit, didn’t back down from the glares the other sent him, despite the differences in physical strength and the obvious anger, confusion and distrust coursing though the other man. Right up until Bill seemed to be listening, at which point the older turned back to his desk, scribbled an address onto the back of his newspaper and held it towards the other - the intent of it easy to tell as his eyes flickered to the clock above the fire place. “Go see her, Bill. Ellen… She’s not her any more. But Jo on the other hand.”

The sentence trailed off, as Bill’s fingers snatched the piece of paper from the other like a mad man, the lump Bobby’s words made feeling thick and hard in his throat with all the things, the accusations, the worries, the confusion, that he wanted to bring up but couldn’t. There was a truth to it, and as much as the idea sounded wrong to him - that the life he had barely a week ago was completely gone - he couldn’t fight it when the date of the paper read out a date he never got to see. He never got to see a lot of things, but if the black ink address on the flip side, a place somewhere not to far from here, was any indication (or the way Bobby seemed to be leaving it in his hands what he did, stay for one or go to the other, as he left the room) he didn’t have to miss seeing even more.

He didn’t bother to call out a goodbye, knowing he’d be back and probably sooner than this visit was from his last - though maybe not, depending what his wife had to say about it; Bill scrunched the paper in his hand tightly as he stepped out the front door. His other hand picked up his helmet, settling it upon his head as he tucked the address inside his jacket above his heart where it would be safe, before the young hunter mounted his bike and peeled out of the dirt roadway, headed away from the junk yard and one half of his old life and towards the closest way to the other half of his old home.

#3 - Baby Love: Reunions Of A Special Kind

The house that resided at the address scribbled down on the fold-worn paper was not what Bill was expecting, especially not when his last house visit had suggested the owner was in the life. A thigh high chain link fence wrapped the front yard and as far as he could see around the sides of the small house, the gate was made out of something that appeared to be very rusted but not iron and had more locks than the hunter expected such a non-defensive fence to have. As he kicked the foot stand out from the side of his bike and parked upon the small strip of grass on the other side of the footpath, he shook his hair out of its dark helmet as he surreptitiously took in the outside of where he was told his daughter lived.

Locks locked, the hunter opted to just jump the fence, the grind of salt on his hands when he let go made him smile. Obviously his little girl was even more creative than her mother had ever been. The flowers and bushes growing around the front yard would have given him pause in any one else’s house, the number of items required for hex bags and spells visible across the small distance was enough to make him think maybe she was more out of the life like the other hunter he visited was than in. More protections were visible under scrutiny as he got to the front door, the shadows of certain paint work and the faint edge of a symbol carved under the doormat made the smile widen as he reached out to ring the doorbell before running his hand through his hair and straightening his shirt. This could be just as hard as the reintroduction to Bobby had been, maybe even harder, he mused to himself.

There were noises from inside before the unmistakable sound of a child’s voice reached him through the thick ashwood  “Me get! Me get, please pleaseplease!” Bill blinked in surprise at the sound, stepping back to try and see if he could see any other appropriate houses as obviously he had the wrong one, before the door jerked open to a shock of blond hair.

Whoever he was couldn’t have been more than three years if the still slightly wobbly balance was any indicator, and the older hunter couldn’t work out where to start as he stared down into the suspicious eyes of the little kid. The boy’s green eyes reminded him of someone’s though he couldn’t put his finger on it, and the uncertain grasp on a very large glass of water was all he could see before the beverages contents were thrown into his face. Or rather, they were intended to, instead splashing all over his shirt and leather jacket.

“Um, ‘cuse me. You smoke?” The boy peered up at him earnestly, both hands now grasped tightly around the glass as he stared at him and Bill tried to work out if he was being offered a cigarette by a preschooler for a second before shaking his head. Either way, there was no way the answer was going to be yes in front of this child.

“No, no smoke here.” After a beat, Bill knelt down to the other’s eye level, a sincere smile on his face as the child let out an authoritative nod and stepped back to set his glass on the floor behind him. “Any chance there’s a woman called Joa-”

“'ife time!” The older man was cut off in the middle of his question as the little blond span around again holding a shiny butter knife in his hand, the blunt tip pointed right at Bill’s nose as the child smiled gleefully at him. “No shifties here, or walkies.. or wolfmen.. or…or deejinnie, or 'rain-suckers or /braaaains/ies!”

As the boy spoke he waved the hand holding the kitchen utensil just shy of the hunter’s face, though the blade didn’t worry Bill at all as a smile of his own broke out at the terms and knowledge being displayed. To make things easier and stop the kid from possibly hitting himself with the butter knife, he reached out and wrapped his hand around the flat edge and pulled the piece out of the boy’s grasp gently, twirling it over his own fingers as he spoke. “Don’t worry, son. I’m not here to eat or destroy anyone. I’m just looking for my daughter.” Bill moved to stand and move inside, before the boy shook off his wonder at the hunter’s dexterity and put a hand up to stop him, the other wrapped tightly around the door.

“Wait! Have to touch the door knockknock.” A small, chubby finger pointed up to the iron knocker in the middle of the door, the first piece of the metal that Bill had seen on what had to obviously be a hunter hotspot or child centre much in the way the bar used to be for the little Winchester boys and the few other children who were on the road. This idea was reinforced as the boy added in a downright depressed tone, “Daddy’d know without, but he’s not here right now. He’s at work. Wish he weren’t though.”

“Well, we all wish he weren’t, but he’s doing something important right now.” Bill reached out and ran his hand over the metal before holding it out for the little boy’s inspection. As the kid turned his hand as though expecting it to change, the hunter couldn’t help but smile remembering the few times his daughter would hand out shots of holy water while her mother poured the after whiskey turn. “Isn’t that right?”

The boy nodded as his hand was released before he was ushered inside, the click of the door shutting as Bill looked around the thin, long hallway. There were a few coats of different lengths hanging by the door, the unmistakable outline of a shot gun hidden behind one and light streaming in from the staircase to the side and the door towards what seemed to be the kitchen at the back of the house. “So, do you know wher-”

“Need to go in the kitchen. All the visitors go straight to the kitchen.” Bill let out a laugh as the boy tugged at his hand and guided him down the hall, past two other doors (one which was obviously the lounge room if the sound of what he thought was Bugs Bunny was any indication) and a rather dark oil painting into the bright kitchen. “You, stay, Mr…?”

The boy’s question made the blond man realise he hadn’t asked the young child his own name yet as he took in the boy’s appearance; the rumpled dark blue t-shirt with the words 'vworp vworp' blazoned across the front over faded and torn jeans alongside the dishevelled mop of hair just added to the man’s opinion that this boy was obviously another hunter’s child. “Well, my name’s Bill. What would yours be, son?”

He didn’t expect the reaction he got at that, the happy sound of the child’s laughter hit home the way his own daughter’s always did. “Me too! Though Mommy makes 'eryone call me Billy, because she don’t like the name Bill.” Billy’s smile was a little too wide for his face, though the hunter couldn’t help but smile back at the cheerful look and sheer amusement at such a similar name, before the boy added in a loud whisper, “She always says naughty words to whoever calls me that.”

The almost conspiratorial look on the little boy’s face as he spoke of the words his mother used was so familiar that Bill could have almost sworn it was like looking down at a sharper cheeked version of his daughter at that age when she’d try to talk him into letting her hold onto his 'special ghostie knife’. “Well then, we’ll make sure to point out how your name and mine are the same, won’t we /Bill/?” He reached out a finger instinctively to tap against the boy’s nose as he joked with him, smile widening as Billy laughed loudly again.

It was then, as the pair sat sharing an unexpected joke with matching grins, that the sound of heavy footsteps down the staircase caught both of the blond’s attention. Bill wasn’t sure what to think as he realised this must be Jo, it had to be Jo coming now. He deserved to see his little girl after such a long time, and as he jerked to his feet, he almost forgot all about the little boy in front of him as he stared in anticipation as the movement got closer and a warm call came from the hallway, “Did you do everythin’ I taught you, Billyboy? 'Cause I’ll have to tell your Daddy all 'bout it when he gets back if you did.”

Bill swallowed thickly hearing for the first time in ages - well, he wasn’t technically sure how long but it had to have been a long while - the sound of his daughter’s voice. Deeper and more mature than the high pitched, gleeful child’s voice he remembered, though it still held the same happy tone through it as he savoured every second of it. He didn’t even hear the boy before him’s response, other than the vague mouth movements he saw out of the corner of his eye as the toddler waddled towards the door with a proud smile on his face, until a word stuck out to him. “Wait.. What do you mean mommy..?!”

His question was answered the second the words left his mouth as a woman around his own age who resembled so thoroughly his own little Joanna appeared around the door to scoop up Billy into her arms with the same wide, proud smile on her face that he’s sure used to appear on his when he would do the same to her. The familiarity of the little boy, the way he talked about his mommy and daddy, the lack of other children, the comment about his name; they all suddenly made sense as Bill stared in shock into the wide, almost terrified eyes of his now adult daughter.

“J..Jo?” Bill could barely recognise his own voice as he struggled to say the name aloud as he gazed at her, jaw dropped open in uncertainty as he shifted a foot closer. The woman before him looked every bit what he expected his daughter to when she was older, right down to the messy pony tail, the faintly visible scarring over her toned tan arms, the faint dark circles under her eyes that all hunter’s eventually get; all except the petrified look on her face or the squirming armful of child in her arms. “Is that really you..?”

“I.. /Daddy/?” Her voice cracked on the words as her face twisted into something much more heartbreaking than the terror from before that Bill could barely stand to look back at her as she set Billy, her /son/, down on the kitchen bench closest to her without looking. “Bob..Bobby said..”

Bill didn’t give her a chance to finish her thought, not caring what the other hunter must have tried to tell her at all, as he strode the few feet between them to wrap his daughter up in his arms unable to wait a second longer. It was nothing like the last time they’d embraced, not even a fortnight ago for him but over two decades for his child, when he’d lifted her off the ground with ease and pressed a kiss to her forehead and he promised to be home before bedtime on Sunday. She was too big to lift any more, even if she wasn’t even as high as his shoulders. Her hair was pulled back in one section rather than split in two on either side of her face. She was shaking and clinging onto him like she’d never let go again, rather than the warm but unable to fully reach grasp of the last time.

“Mommy? Mommy?! //Mommy!//" It wasn’t until the demanding sound of a child’s voice, not the almost constant sing-song tone his little daughter always had, washed over the pair of them that they were able to untangle themselves again. "What the hell, Mommy? You shouldn’t be hugging so hard now. Aunty Shady says you 'ave be careful with the babymuffins.” Billy stared at the pair of them in the dead serious way children have, the reprimand not making sense to him while it brought a watery smile and choked up laugh out of the woman who was now his daughter.

“The babymuffins are okay, Billy, I promise.” Jo’s hand slipped slowly from his fore arm as she moved to scoop her child up again, as she raised her other hand to wipe the tear tracks from her cheeks as she looked back at Bill with a mixture of joy and uncertainty that hit right through him. “Though I thought… I thought your Daddy said not to say that word.”

“You say all the time, though. Only Daddy doesn’t like it.” The boy’s rebuttal made Bill smile as he focussed on the open amusement and curiousity on his, he guesses, grandson’s face rather than the complex emotions on his little Joanna’s he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to ever understand or fix; though as he caught Billy’s attention it gained an accusing quality so reminiscent of Jo’s when she didn’t believe the bar flies stories fully. “Mr. Bill… why did you hug Mommy like that?”

“Because I haven’t in far too long a time.” The response was out of his mouth without a second thought as Bill’s own hazel eyes caught his grandson’s green for one long, drawn out moment. It was like looking into the face of a cat, unable to blink or give way first lest he be found a liar before a small jiggle on Jo’s grip broke the staring contest and both Harvelle men smiled at one another. His eyes drifted back automatically to his daughter’s face, her watery eyes dry now and the complex storm of emotions almost perfectly concealed behind a peaceful look as she smiled back at him and his choice of words. “/Far/ too long.”

“Billy, sport.. I want you to meet your grandfather. Not like Grandpa Bobby, but.. but my dad.” Jo dropped her gaze first, her free hand now brushed Billy’s hair back until it was somewhat tamed as she approached, the slight waddle of her steps making him stare at her curiously as Billy reached his hands out to be held by the once stranger now his mother had seemingly given the green light. “William Anthony Harvelle, meet William Dean Harvelle. He.. he turned three five months ago.” The weight of the small boy was unexpected but so familiar to the hunter as he situated the other on his hip like a professional and shared a hand shake with him before smiles. Though Bill’s dropped the second his daughter added quietly and avoided his eyes as she pressed a hand to her unexpectedly rounded stomach, “..and I turned thirty-two four months ago.”

“Thir..thirty-two.” Bill struggled to get the number out as he stared at her, trying to reconcile that he’d lost the last twenty-two years of his daughter’s life and yet the older hunter had said this was where he was missed the most. It was hard enough to comprehend that without adding in the wiggling child in his arms, and the slightly rounded shape of his daughter’s stomach as she now stood upright without anything else in the way. “And.. four months..?”

Jo nodded her head, an uncertain smile on her face as she frowned back at him, another undecipherable look on her face. Bill was suddenly regretting not sticking around Singer’s to see his wife as he realised how hard it was for him to understand his daughter, no long a child but a full grown woman almost overnight to him. Though as Billy tugged at one of the pockets at the front of his leather jacket, he couldn’t stop the wide, happy smile at seeing any form of his daughter again. “I’m..so proud of you, sweetheart.” It was all he could think to say as Billy kicked to be set down and Bill conceded reluctantly, eyes not moving from his daughter’s until her smile softened to its natural state.

There was an almost deafening silence as both hunter’s smiled back at one another for a long moment, before Billy broke it with a simple request for a drink and it somehow sparked the pair into an unexpectedly choreographed move through the kitchen - the tradition of making Jo’s favourite drink seeming to be the same as her blond haired son. It was so familiar, so the same and so natural that as the young boy drank from the red and blue webbed sippy-cup, both Jo and Bill shifted to sit across the table from one another in a happy discussion about the last time they performed the very same actions.

As the little blond boy finished his drink and set his cup down, Bill finally asked the question that was nagging at him. Though he didn’t expect the answer to arrive the very second he asked. "So… Billy and..the baby’s father is a… hunter?“ As the final word left his mouth there was the sound of a key in the front door that left Jo wide eyed and her son to squeal and launch himself through the open kitchen door with a shout.

#4 - Sad Eyes: Or How Water And Oil Don’t Mix Unless Shaken Up

It was days like this, as the shadow headed home after his last class just after the lunch break, that he was thankful they hadn’t moved from the once dilapidated house that Jo’d found for him all those years ago. There was barely a five minute walk from his office in the art building to their front door, and as Grey jiggled the keys in the lock when the door didn’t immediately swing open - a simple code Jo’d made for if there were visitors in the house - he could feel the stress of the overly excited classes that morning vanish the moment his foot was over the threshold.

Grey’d often find himself in a day sneaking away home over lunch, if he wasn’t already finishing early, to not only avoid the prying and slightly worrisome questions he’d get on occasion from the other staff members at the high school but just to help out with the inevitable fight over eating greens at lunch or settling /everyone/ down for an afternoon nap regardless of the objections. Or the days like today when he’d have no afternoon classes or after-hours meetings that he could leave early and possibly come home to the twisted take on Jody’s advice about encouraging reading that would be mother and son curled up on the couch reading over her hunters journal, or an old tome from one of the other hunters. Though recently it had been a, in his opinion, premature introduction to some novels that he couldn’t help but think Jo was just after an excuse to read again.

Shrugging out of his blazer, the one attempt he’d make half-heartedly at the start of every semester to look more professional than a possibly starving-artist type, Grey heard the murmur of voices from the kitchen before the little boy came sprinting out of the kitchen with a shriek.

“You’re home! Mommy said that you wouldn’t-“ The little blond boy cheered as he flung himself forwards around the monster’s legs. Grey knew exactly what the boy’s mother would have said, and reaching down he ruffles the top of the other’s head, effectively cutting him off.

The voices in the other room seemed to have stopped, that they were coming from the kitchen rather than upstairs in the study-slash-storage room as they moved things around to prepare for the new baby was confusing. Most hunters wanted to be behind the thin chain of iron that Jo’d place across the door - only for the hunters sakes, though it was still a sore point every time it happened and there had been fights over the allowance for hunters to come by the first time the blonde was too heavily pregnant to expose herself to the bars or to want to move around so much. "Yeah, I know, Billy. I wasn’t supposed to be home until dinner time. But the meeting I had to stay for got cancelled and I got to come home.”

“Goodgood, ‘cause Mommy was crying before but Mr. Bill was comforting her.” Billy looks perplexed as he speaks, the same crease in his brow as his mother evident as he shares a look with the other - one small arm wrapped tightly around Grey’s leg.

“What?” What the boy was saying confused the hell out of the shadow, that Jo was crying was strange enough even factoring in the pregnancy hormones and the comment about some man with the name Grey’d swiftly begun to associate with not only Jo’s father but her son and the boy’s biological father. There’d been communication between his partner and their son’s father over the last few years, to the point they’d exchanged a few photographs and agreed for them to meet 'some day’; though the idea made him feel sick and possessive every time it was discussed, regardless how often Jo said it was a mistake other than Billy. “Whose here?”

“Mr. Bill.” Billy was far too young to understand sarcasm but Grey couldn’t hide the small smile at the almost exasperated look his son gave him. The boy smiles back quickly, reaching out for the other before directing them both towards the kitchen once he’d been picked up like an admiral directing his troops to move forward. “Mommy said he was like Gran'pa Bobby.”

The words sound all wrong to the shadow - if it was who he thought it was, he doubted Jo would try to introduce the gargantuan man she described to him during the few rocky months of her first pregnancy as being like the much older hunter and almost surrogate father. (He was honestly confused why the grouchy old man hadn’t made an 'honest woman’ out of the older Harvelle, but Grey figured he didn’t have room to speak after his, painfully, unsuccessful attempt to do just that with his own Harvelle a few years ago.) Shaking his head to loosen the scowl that was building just thinking that, he lets out a tight laugh as small fingers push at his forehead while he walks the pair of them into the kitchen.

Only to freeze as he becomes the target of both people sitting on either side of the kitchen table’s gazes; Jo’s eyes wide and unreadable alongside the pleased flush on her cheeks, while the bearded man across from her squinted at him appraisingly. There was something definitely off about the hunter across from his partner, the choice of clothes, bitten down nails, dark rings of shadow under his eyes and the way he shifted his relaxed posture at Grey’s entrance - in an almost protective way of Jo, it seemed - screamed hunter as did the hint of a  holster under the leather jacket swamping him.

“I’m goin’ to guess this here is baby-daddy himself, then?” The gruff tone and way he rose from his seat did not help with Grey’s first impression of him. He was obviously trying to puff himself up, mark his territory or force the smaller shadow to heel if the steely stare was anything to go by. Something that was not going to happen, at least not from Grey where his family was concerned as he shifted his hold on Billy despite the boy’s attempts to be let go of. “Bit scrawnier than I thought you’d be interested in, sweetheart.”

“Don’t let looks fool you.” The shadow snaps back at the thiny veiled insult, keeping a tight hold of Billy and angling him away as he steps closer to the other warningly. After a second, Grey takes the two steps towards where Jo was still sitting to lean down and deliver a quick peck of a kiss as he ignores the larger man’s presence. “The meeting tonight got cancelled, so I figured I’d take the rest of the afternoon off.”

Jo seemed to be happy, smiling widely when he says he’s back for the afternoon - though the grip she takes on his wrist has more force behind it than he thought there should be. “Well that’s good, don’t think, uh, /this/ is exactly somethin’ we could cover in your lunch break.” She jerks her head between the hunter looking purposefully in the opposite direction as she speaks, the grin on her face and eyes filling with a look Grey wasn’t familiar with as she gazed at the other before looking back at him. The ugly twist of jealousy and possessiveness he thought he’d gotten over years ago reared its head again, growing larger when Jo spoke again though the gentle rubbing of her thumb against the inside of his wrist did a bit to help slow it. “Hun, maybe you should take Billy upstairs for his nap and then I’ll… I’ll introduce you properly.”

The shadow’s glance flickers between Jo’s reassuringly pleased look and the speculative study from the other hunter, uncertain if he trusted himself to leave the pair though the yawn from the small boy still in his arms confirmed what he should do. “I’ll be right back down, Jo. I’m just upstairs if…”

“It’s fine, Grey, nothings going to happen.” He would usually object more, never quite comfortable with Jo’s trust of the others in her profession - her comfort with those she saw like herself was something he couldn’t quite understand. Though the warm smile on her face and the relative distance the other hunter was giving her was a little more comforting.

The shadow nods as he gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze and frowning at the unconfirmed man wiggling his fingers and shaking hands in a mockery of seriousness with the little boy in his arms to say good 'night’. Jerking away with a quiet, inhuman hiss - not caring right now if it unsettled the man or caused problems - Grey takes Billy upstairs, ignoring his pleas to be allowed to stay downstairs. “No, sport, you’ve got to get your nap otherwise you’ll fall asleep during cartoons this afternoon.”

“But I wanna play with Mommy’s daddy…” He wasn’t sure how to take the boy’s sleepy mumbling, though the threat of missing out on his few favourite hours of TV a night worked to silence him. The quiet triumph Grey got over the boy preferring his favourites to Jo’s at the moment was always a bright moment when the three would sit and watch a few episodes, Billy’s eyes glued to the screen even if he’d seen the episode before while Jo would pout and pull at his own hair as they relaxed on the couch like the old days for an hour or so.

Settling the boy in, almost asleep before his head touched the pillow, Grey waits a moment before smoking downstairs to the shadows just out of sight of the kitchen door, hanging back to listen as he tries to work out if his son meant what he’d said or not.

“So that’s the guy, then?” The gruff tone seemed to have doubled, the man’s voice clearly displaying his uncertainty. “He seems… different.”

“Well he is certainly that. Grey’s a good guy, takes good care of me and Billy, and the baby.” Jo sounded uncertain, almost worried, and that didn’t endear the stranger any better to Grey than the vague disapproval was. “He’s not a hunter, so please, /please/, don’t make a thing about that.”

“Guess that makes sense, what with the picket-fence dream outside, huh sweetheart?”

“You can hardly expect that I was on the road, eight months pregnant and trying to hunt things, could you? I’m still a hunter, even if there’s a home that’s not got four wheels..”

“And Mr. Civilian is part of it. Does he even /know/ about what you do, Jo? Or are you a travelling sales woman, flying here and there every other week?”

Peeking through the part of the doorway not blocked at the harsh accusation, Grey could see the man’s back and Jo’s hand resting over his forearm, a move that she’d do with anyone she felt was getting out of hand or might need to calm down. Mr. Bill, as Billy called him, didn’t move for a second before he moves a large hand to cover Jo’s in a way Grey thought was far too tender for someone who’d just appeared in their lives.

Feeling that twisted possessiveness flare up again and not able to stop himself this time, Grey pushes into the kitchen and shuts the door just in case things got louder, announcing his return. “I’m a teacher, but I know all about hunting. What is it to you what I do or who I am?” The harsh tone covers the words, the only thing stopping his powers from slipping into the question by accident, as the shadow moves to Jo’s side, slips an arm around her waist and stares defiantly up the few inches at the other man.

“Grey..” Jo hisses quietly, though she covers his fingers with her free arm as she glances worriedly between both men, silently sizing one another up. After a long moment, during which the shadow refused to back down like his partner was suggesting and seemingly the hunter was unwilling to do the same, she adds quietly, “Hun, you might want to make a good impression rather than… what you’re doing.”

“You might want to listen to her, /Grey/,” The man cut in, shifting his weight onto his heels and dropping a shoulder, the undone buckles of his jacket chiming quietly together with the movement. There was something far too familiar between the looks both blond’s were giving him - the same quirk of their eyebrows and the sharp awareness that something was going to happen, either good or bad, just drove home what Grey was starting to suspect was the truth. “Wouldn’t do well for you to try and tangle with me over this.”

“Oh, I’d love to you arrog-” Grey gets cut off sharply with an elbow to the ribs from the woman beside him, both exchanging a look that neither seemed to be winning. That the other man seemed to think it was okay to try and boss him around in his own home did not sit well with the monster, regardless of if the man was a hunter and he something which unknowingly the other would prefer at the end of a gun than wrapped around a fellow fighter like he was. But Jo’s reaction and poking shuts up up from doing more as he bites back a growl, though pulls her closer instead. Speaking softly against her ear, he keeps an eye on the other man as he tries to work out if what he thinks is now more likely is true, “You want to explain who this… guy is, Jo? Billy said he was like Bobby.”

The man chuckling as though he could tell exactly what was running through Grey’s mind was not comforting, even as the woman in his arms let out a quiet sigh. It took everything in him not to growl at the stranger’s amusement, even as Jo answered him; her voice tinged with something between awe and shock. “Yeah, he is. Um, Grey.. I’d like you to meet William Harvelle. My father. ..Dad, this is my partner Jack Grey.” Lifting her hands and those underneath and above them, she moves to attempt to make the pair shake hands, eyes darting between the stoic look on the shadows face to the amused smirk on her father’s.

The confirmation of what Billy had suggested from Jo’s own mouth helped smooth down some of his raw feelings; the dread that it might have been the other hunter coming to meet /Grey’s/ son was a little more than he’d ever expected it would be.  He’d almost worried Jo had concocted a lie for their son given he wasn’t even old enough to understand his dad wasn’t human let along that he wasn’t really his biological father. The tantrum which had ensued after they tried explaining that 'Dad’s side of the family are just /special/’ to explain the inhuman actions had only stopped when Jo’d comforted Billy with the idea that she and him were special in their own way by being the only non-special ones. That he’d reacted so defensively to the idea and the currently smug looking hunter worries him, but as Jo looks up at him so hopefully Grey swallows that down to think about later as he shifts to offer his hand on his own free will.

Staring one another down, it is a full thirty seconds before Grey lowers his hand, the waves of disapproval still coming off of the other man and the tense seconds when Bill made no move to shake his said it all. The hunter didn’t approve and he was making it clear.

“He’s wrong for you, sweetheart.” The man doesn’t take his eyes off of Grey, squinting faintly at him as thought trying to discern something from him that wasn’t visible unless really focussed on. He wasn’t used to such heavy speculation, and even as Jo unconciously grips onto his lowered hand, he can’t help but shift backwards to refrain from lashing out at such a declaration.

Grey couldn’t tell if it was him shaking or Jo, the rage flushing through him from such a suggestion was hard to see through even as his fingers were almost crushed in her vice like grip. “Dad, what on earth are you on about? You don’t even know him! I like him, Mom likes him, Bobby li-”

“I don’t give a fuck what Bobby likes, Jo; that’s something I’m trying to come to terms with. But this… guy?” The other hunter waves a hand as he speaks to gesture at the pair of them, the cut off making both Jo and Grey wince as they could imagine where he must have gotten their address from now. “There is something /wrong/ about him, can’t you sense that? I don’t think you or my grandchildren should be around him, sweetheart.”

His comments bring out another wince in the monster, the sharp hunter’s intuition seemingly not at all rusted from the time spent beyond the veil. If the sharp inhale of breath from beside him was any indication, Jo was picturing all the ways this conversation could go wrong and it was only her hand in his stopping Grey from showing the hunter just what was 'wrong’ about him.

Grey was not expecting the hunter to move like he did when no one answered him for a full minute, the sharp push back against the kitchen door jerking the shadow’s hand from Jo’s as a forearm presses forcefully against his windpipe. “Tell me, /Grey/, what the fuck you are and what the fuck you’re doing with my daughter or I will gut your inhuman body where you stand.” It’s a barely audible hiss as the older Harvelle twists his arm up, forcing Grey to lift his head back of suffer a crushed oesophagus.

“Dad! Let him go!” Out of the corner of his eye, Grey can see Jo pulling at her father’s other arm, staring wide-eyed at the pair of them as though she doesn’t want to think about what could happen if Bill went through with his threat. It takes everything in him not to just shove the hunter off, or to let him break a few bones in order to get himself free; though when he can see his partner swaying on her feet the way she would during some of the more stressful times of her first pregnancy, that control goes out the window. Shoving the other back with unnatural force, Grey reaches out to catch her arm, even as Jo sends him a dirty look. “God damn, I’m okay. It’s you I’m worried about…”

While she trails off, turning to look for her father, Grey can feel the knot starting in his stomach again - though this time not from jealousy but anxiousness as the hunter in question pushes himself up off the floor and stares at him with the same look other hunters would get when faced with a twist of case and find themselves face to face with an unexpected monster. The small twitch of his hand from under the end of his jacket sleeve would usually make him feel bad to see, but Grey couldn’t help but think the hunter brought it on himself as Jo steps between the both of them to reach out for his arm.

“Joanna Beth, you better explain what just happened right no-” Bill’s voice drops considerably, and in an abstract way Grey could see another similarity between father and daughter when they got angry. The clipped tone, deeper register and way his eyes didn’t move from the focus of his conversation were all strikingly alike to the way Jo’s would.

Jo cuts in, stepping closer towards her seething father, not able to stop the quip from boiling up the same way it used to when arguing with her mother for the better half of her life. “You just threatened my partner! I don’t think I owe you any sort of explanation until you’re not going to try and kill someone in here for what you hear.”

“If that’s the kind of reaction you think you’d get then you better spill right now, sweetheart.” Bill was still focussed on Grey as he spoke, making the shadow feel like squirming inside though he remained cool on the outside. There was a direct challenge in the hunter’s gaze, and he refused to back down to it. “What the fuck is he, Jo?”

He couldn’t see Jo’s face though he could see the faint shake to her hands as she holds out a hand, Grey staying back but alert. All of the times that he’d been part of one of 'those’ conversations over the years couldn’t compare to what this one would be like, or the amount of nerves he could feel radiating off of the small blonde between him and the other hunter. “Well, Dad, you.. have it right. He’s not actually a huma-" She cuts off with a hiss as Bill’s hand shifts to the holster under his jacket before freezing as Grey acts quickly, stretching his shadow to join the other man’s and holding him trapped. Stepping up behind Jo carefully, the shadow rests a hand against the small of her back as he tries to pull her back away from the other. ”-n.“

"What is /it/ doing?” Grey flinches sharply at the word, his fingers tightening for a second against Jo’s back as she too draws back at the look her father was sending him. Keeping a careful lock on the other man’s movements, the shadow tries to lead Jo back to a chair to sit down as she almost looked white staring back at Bill. The fact he could feel Bill struggling against his powers just as strongly as the monsters and demons he would track and feed was more than a little disconcerting, feeling the desire to drain rear up on habit before squashing it down.

“Dad..” Jo sounds weary as she lets him guide her, the hold she has on his arm tightening for a moment as she stares back in the familiar face before sinking into the seat and not removing her hands from around his forearm. The colour in her cheeks was lighter than Grey had seen it in a while, and while he could see her reaction was making the other hunter calm down slightly he made a quick decision of his own.

Rubbing at the top of her shoulder and brushing her hair back from her face, Grey leans in regardless of the hiss from behind him to press a brief kiss to her lips as he holds her face in her hands before speaking as quietly and calmly as he can. “Jo, I want you to go upstairs for a bath. I know it’s probably run and cooling upstairs already, so you go relax and I’m going to talk to your father for a moment.” As Jo blinks up at him in confusion and opens her mouth to argue, he kisses her again before pinning her with a sharp look. “It will be okay, we’ll be home soon, okay?”

“What do you mean 'we’ll be home soon’, you… thing?!” The other man growls out, eyes flashing from anger at the approaching monster to concern at his grown daughter’s face. There was something in the look which made Grey’s heart skip, recognising it in Jo’s own face whenever Billy would get sick or hurt himself and she had no idea what to do about it. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looks back over at Jo where she’s still fixated on watching the both of them worriedly before he steps next to the struggling hunter and reaches out before smoking the both of them away.

Setting down several miles away in an empty field, Grey keeps his hand on the other’s shoulders until he’s caught his feet before stepping a few feet back. Releasing the other, he tries to keep his voice as calm as possible as he speaks, “Mr. Harvelle, I get this is all very shocking to you, but you need to calm down and I’m not letting you back near Jo or my son unti-”

Cut off with a groan, Grey stumbles back another two steps as he raises his hand to his mouth, the slick feel of blood against his fingers and teeth bringing out another groan. Bill stares back at him, fist raised still as though trying to determine where to hit next; before sending an uppercut under the chin, teeth slamming together as his head jerks upwards. Falling back away again, the shadow keeps the other man, rubbing his knuckles with his other hand carefully, with the same watchful and alert eye as the hunter was surveying him.

Its a long, tense moment before Grey sees the other tensing as though he’s about to spring forth, reaching out as soon as the other moves to catch a hold of the punch aimed at his stomach and keep the hunter from hitting or moving back. Bill grunts through heavy breaths harshly, glaring back him with a twist of his mouth. “What are you? Why is my daughter with you? /Why aren’t you dead?/”

As the blond tugs back on his hands, Grey releases them reluctantly though keeps himself alert. When the hunter makes no direct moves or shifts to attack, the shadow speaks as clearly as he can even as his jaw aches and the numb feeling of his lips flickers in and out as he heals. “I am a shadow, a monster. Not a demon like I would assume you believe..” Bill’s face twists up at that comment, one hand dropping unconsciously to press against his chest as though holding something in, before Grey continues to speak quickly. “But I swear to you, I’m not a threat to your family. I swear it.”

Staring off like those strange western movies Jo would watch sometimes (or more like the third Back To The Future movie, Grey considers as he shifts), the hunter slowly steps back before starting to circle the stationary monster. Twisting his head to watch, the second he has to shift the other man launches again, driving the knife from his ankle into the monster’s side and twisting sharply as his large, muscled arm holds him in place. He was preparing himself for the sharp burn of iron but can’t help the relief alongside pain when it’s just the pain of the knife itself without any iron.

The blond man jerks the knife out, spinning away and preparing for another lunge before pulling himself up short as the monster merely presses a hand to the wound and looks mostly undisturbed aside from a small grimace of pain. Grey waits a few moments for the wound to heal before dropping his hand and turning to face Bill. “I swear, Mr. Harvelle, I’m not here to harm your daughter or our children." His hand stretches out in a sign of peace, though he can see the remnants of his bleeding side coating the edges of his fingers red and doesn’t need to imagine to know it looks much less peaceful from the hunter’s perspective. Dropping his hand and wiping it off, he shifts his weight back as the beefier man jumps him again, knocking them both to the ground.

Tumbling and fighting for control, Grey can’t help but imagine that if he ever has another daughter (his mind and focus slipping for a second giving the other man the upper hand as he struggles to force the thoughts that topic brings up down again) that he could completely understand the other man’s focussed aggression and protectiveness. Pulling his legs up and kicking the larger man off him slightly, the shadow rolls to the side and jumps up, muttering an apology as he does so - already mentally counting just how mad Jo might get for that move. He turns, looking around for Jo’s father to spring up from somewhere before he realises the other is still on the ground.

Approaching tentatively, Grey wipes his hand off again on his tshirt, glad for once that most of the shirts in the house were now dark colored, before offering it down to the other. The proverbial olive branch between the pair as blue eyes lock with green. There’s a moment when the monster worries that the other will try to stab him again - or worse - before the blond pushes himself up without the assistance and Grey lets his hand drop back to his side awkwardly.

"I asked another two questions, /thing/.” Bill growls the words out as he doesn’t back down from his proximity to the other, unconsciously attempting to intimidate through size and voice. Grey brushes his hands and shirt off, cringing painfully as his mouth throbs when he twitches at the choice of word.

Taking off his glasses as he considers, the shadow wipes the glass clean before resettling them and looking unashamedly and confidently back at the other. “Jo and I have been friends, and more, for years now. She was open minded enough to give me a shot after I helped her out on the tail end of a few cases and proved myself not to be a danger /any longer/ to humans.” He speaks calmly, the words slurring together slightly as his mouth aches, eyes not leaving the other’s face as he watches for any sign of movement or a negative reaction. “I’m not dead for the same reason. I’ve been able to prove myself to Jo, our son, and other hunters alike. And.. I’d like to be able to prove myself to you.”

Bill’s jaw tics at that comment, the tightening in his shoulders and the quick spin of his knife in his hands once again seeming all too familiar, as he seems to consider whats being said and just how ineffective his attacks have been. “I’d like to go back to my daughter now, /monster/.” There is no recognition of anything Grey had said in his words, but the way his eyes are more speculatively focussed rather than  hostile, Grey hopes that means he has gotten a little bit through to him. Enough that maybe he won’t find himself with another silver dagger stabbed through his gut.

“The name is Grey. Or Jack.. whatever you’re most comfortable with.” He speaks quietly, already mentally storing away that he’ll have to be extra careful around this hunter than other’s. Not that he expected any more, as he knows any red blooded male would be reaching for the iron bullets at the thought of a human man touching their daughter’s let alone something they perceive as worth dying for the crime of existing. “I’m hoping I can show you, one day Mr. Harvelle, just how much your daughter and our children mean. And I’m willing to give you as much time to get to know them and speak to them as you want, but you’re not going to make me leave - no matter how much you hate me or how hostile and threatening. Your friend… Bobby has tried it already and come to accept m-”

“/Monster/, we’re /done/ here.” The words are hissed out, sharper than anything else, and if the awkward way the hunter drew back at the mention of the woman who had once been his wife was any indication, Grey could tell someone had brought him up to speed so far as his wife was concerned. “Take me back there.” It’s not a request, or a suggestion, but an order; and while the shadow’s teeth grit painfully together and the idea of being ordered to so something, he knows the best idea would be to listen to this man’s wishes.

Reaching a hand out, there's a blink before the pair are standing back in the brightly lit kitchen of the house that has become the monster’s family home. Not releasing his hold on the hunter’s shoulder, Grey tightens his grasp when the man makes a move to head into the hallway. “If you could stay in here, make yourself comfortable; then your daughter and grandson will be down after their afternoon rests.” This time it’s his voice that’s laced with the harsh tone that says there will be no discussion and that what he says will happen goes. When the other looks like he’s about to object, Grey hold up his hand, still slightly pinkish, to stop him. “Jo may be your daughter and Billy may be your namesake, but they are /my/ family too - and I will be making sure /their/ well-being is taken care of first and foremost.”

It’s like neither will back down for a long sharp moment before Grey can see the calculation of how strong he’s proven himself and just how unknown he is occur inside the hunter’s mind before the tension is released only slightly from his shoulders. Releasing the other from his grip, Grey turns sharply - still on edge and prepared for an attack - and heads out of the door, shutting the thin wood behind him as he heads upstairs to fish his Jo out of the bath and into bed for a while. Fully prepared to stand guard on the stairs until the required time for resting is done with. Just in case.

#5 - To Sir With Love: A Teacher’s Tale

There was something deeply unsettling about being the newest teacher in a well-established school, especially considering his actual situation. He was always jumping for the first few weeks that he spoke to one of the older staff members or the principal or her assistant, expecting any moment the fallacy of his credentials to be exposed. But after that didn’t happen, in fact most of the other staff found him to be quite charming and knowledgeable in the ‘self-taught’ manner which suited the fluidity of the subject Jo had asked for her older hunter contacts to give him for specialisation.

Of course, once the fear of being outed by the staff began to recede - his quick thinking answers and the slight flexing of his powers for answers or distraction when he couldn’t get around it - came a new brand of uncomfortable for the dark haired monster. All spawned from the first time he heard, five weeks into his employment signalling the first week of the school year, the tell-tale sign of giggling and whispers from his first class ever. Grey wasn’t sure what it was, but as he wrote out his name on the white board behind him and turned about to stand and wait, he could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the hungry and almost desiring eyes on him from most of the females and some of the males in the class. That first class signalled just the beginning of the interest and his change of status among the students from 'fresh meat teacher’ to 'that teacher’, even if he wasn’t quite sure if it was a change for the better.

Three weeks into term and the arrival of the end of his senior year class’ preliminary 'refresher’ course is when things changed up again - with a slightly foolish idea that came from his hunt-exhausted partner one night when he was keeping her from sleeping by worrying about what to do next. “Just get them all to sit about and talk about themselves for a week. Gives you some time to come up with something and maybe spark an idea for you.” Which is what he very quickly decided would be his next class when the blonde turned over with her front to him and an unmistakably deviant smirk.

“Okay everyone, I know we’re a while into the year to be doing introductions and get-to-know you games, but now that we all know some of the basics and not so basic things, I figure before we start on our first big assignment it’d be good to understand what each of us can and can’t do, what we like and that sort of thing, right?” Grey’s - or Mr. Grey or Jack Grey, depending on who in the school was talking to him - voice started out strong as the class finally settled down in their early morning slot, outside of the quiet whispers he was sure were never going to go away, but quickly trailed off into an uncertain ramble as he looked out at his students. There was something deeply unsettling for him that he could catch that many people’s attention at once, not particularly fond of being in the spot light. “So, if everyone can grab a chair and move the tables and stuff so we’re kind of.. less formal?”

It took a few moments for the teenagers to click that they needed to move but it was pretty quick when they did, or from what Grey could assume given how often the other teachers complained about the lack of speed from the students. When everyone was settled down, forming something like a semi-circle in the room with his desk and whiteboard being the straight section with just enough space for all of them, the dark haired man moved around to the front of his desk and pushed a few pens and papers aside to sit atop it himself.

“Okay, how about we do a quick round of names and a bit about your family and then we’ll, I don’t know, let a free for all questions where you can ask anyone anything appropriate if you’re holding, um, this.” Grey reached behind him and tossed a small Spiderman action figure towards one of the geekier looking males in the class directly to his right. “One question per time you hold it though, so, yeah. We’ll start with you Josh?”

The boy, Josh, quickly said his name and talked about his pet rat for a few seconds before he handed on the figurine which quickly made its way around the circle to end on Elizabeth who has four older brothers. Grey then indicated for her to ask her question of someone and the game started, quickly revealing to him just how hilarious teenagers could be if left to almost unsupervised fun. That was until a bleach-blonde called Mary decided to turn the tables on him. “Mr. Grey,” her tone made him cringe internally, knowing what that meant from years of hearing it before something he’d usually deem 'inappropriate’ for most people, “what about you? Do you have any family?”

Grey caught the figurine when she tossed it across to him, as per the amended rules, and rolled it about in his hand before he answered. “I’ve got a lot of brothers and sisters. More than any of you at least, though I only really see three of them often - two brothers and a sister - and our parents are dead.” He passed the toy back to Josh, asking him a question about the cartoon style drawings he’d noticed the boy drawing regularly before the game continued.

Tracey, a rather plain girl Josh asked for her favourite hobby, then turned the attention back to their teacher with the same yearning eyes as the first girl but lacking the same potentially troublesome tone. “Is there a Mrs. Grey, Mr. Grey?”

“No, I don’t actually have a wife.” Grey stumbled over the response a little and all at once was bombarded with the sudden perk in interest and joy within the class’ feelings that he threw up a hand. “Okay, okay, I think we’ve asked Mr. Grey enough questions - back to one another guys until the bell goes.” He tossed the Spiderman across to a boy called Brad before moving around his desk again, trying to ignore the dramatic sweep downwards in emotions as he pretended to fiddle with some of the papers in front of him until the bell went. Not knowing that he’d just sparked a school-wide interest in finding out about the private life of the new art teacher.

It wasn’t until six weeks later when the teaching staff and students were back from the Thanksgiving weekend that he picked up on just what was going on. Grey had noted an influx in interest from students and teachers alike about what his plans were on a weekend or what he was planning to do on Friday night - but hadn’t thought anything peculiar about the slight disinterest and annoyance at his vague answers about 'having a night in’ or 'I don’t know quite yet’. Though he hadn’t noticed the slight increase in whispers and eyes on his back, having adjusted to it and chalked it up to the general distrust and observance by students of their teachers to remain vigilant, nor the number of invitations for family or 'get to know you’ dinners from the other staff members.

What sparked off his awareness of what was happening was the innocent answer to 'What did you do for Thanksgiving, Jack?’ as he walked with the slightly aging maths teacher Donald Kelly that he spent it mostly with the kids and the almost deathly silence which followed. Grey looked about curiously as the older man shot him a confused look at the revelation that he had children. “It was Fiona’s first Thanksgiving with us, actually - or at least the first she’ll remember.” Grey added hesitantly, not sure how to take the incredulous look of the way his words seemed to be echoed through the halls by other voices to one another before the moment passed.

He shrugged it off for the next few weeks, answering the staff questions a little more freely about his family - or at least the children - and even retelling a few funny stories about his oldest child’s first day of school that year with some of his art classes as Grey began to feel more comfortable as time wore on. Still there was something strange about the way the questions were phrased - not asking about the children’s mother once. The dark haired man particularly found the questions or comments, most from that early morning senior art class, to be interestingly spanned with little reference or comment about whoever his partner was other than that they must have won the lottery if there was one. On occasion Grey wanted to set the record straight, but when he’d first talked to Jo about starting teaching she had warned him to give as little away about his real life as possible - and given the role of her within it, he was even more reluctant than talking about the kids now the cat was out of the bag about them.

It wasn’t until the next Monday morning lesson that he worked out what the true interest, other than what had been affectionately termed 'teacher crush’ by his lover, in his personal life was - when the middle of his class was interrupted by the sound of a young child crying and the unmistakable whining voice of a six year old.

“Mom, I don’t get it. I’m big, I can come with you! Uncle Dean used to go with his dad and not get left at home when he was my age.” The shock of blond hair peeking through the doorway before the whining tone changed to excitement as the light haired boy turned back to whoever he was with before entering. “I found him! Dad, Dad, tell Mom I can come along with her and not stay home this time. /Puh-lease!/”

The entire class stopped as the small boy, extremely small for his current age, barrelled into the room and jumped atop Grey’s back, clinging and practically begging him with bright green eyes. The dark haired man, shook his back, catching the boy around the waist before he sat him down again - hand firmly gripped in the other’s hair at the top of his head to stop any mischief. “What do you mean this time? She’s not supposed- Jo, you said you didn’t have any cases this week.” Grey’s, along with the stunned and quiet teenagers, attention went to the blonde who entered after the boy.

She juggled with the rather large baby bag over one shoulder and the crying dark haired baby, barely over a year old, in her arms as she looked back at him with a small frown. “Well I didn’t, but then something came up - close enough I’ll be back by the weekend. No one else is near enough to take care of it this time, Hun, I’ve got to go.” Jo shrugged her shoulder, baby bag dropped to the floor before Grey’s desk as she wrestled her hair out of the little girl’s grip and approached Grey.

“D-does Principal Evans knows about this, the kids I mean?” The dark haired man instinctively reached out both hands, letting the younger boy go to go start inquiring and talking to the stunned and smiling students, to take the baby from her, hoisted onto one hip as he added quietly, “You’re going to be okay with this by yourself? You’ll call in to-”

“-night and leave the numbers to contact and where I am, yes I know the drill, /Dad/, don’t worry.” Her voice mimicked both him and the young blond boy as well as she lent in to brush her lips against his in a farewell. “Everything is cleared with your boss, Grey, and I’ll call when I know you’ll be home. I’ll see you on Friday hopefully, /and be good for your dad, dammit Billy!/” Jo’s voice rose into a firm, yet still amused, tone as she caught the boy’s eye and headed out the room with another round of goodbyes - not even acknowledging the students as she left again like a storm, there one second and gone the next. Leaving in her wake a very energetic young boy, a now sleeping little girl, a slightly concerned but happy teacher and a shell-shocked classroom.

Right up until Mary, now with shockingly pink hair, shouted happily from her seat as Billy approached and began to stroke her hair in a typically curious child’s way, “I knew he’d be with a blonde girlfriend! Someone text Dylan for the betting to be closed!”

Bunker Pack Chapter Two

Dean knew that the apocalypse world was just like their own, but it came as a surprise every time he was confronted with a long lost friend he'd thought he'd never see again. Bobby, Kevin, Charlie, and now Jo? But this wasn't the Jo Harvelle he had known so many years ago. This woman, like Charlie, had been changed by the hardships that she'd endured in her world. The way she looked, the way she carried herself, told him that she'd seen some unspeakable horrors in her lifetime. Charlie had brought Sam and her team up to speed on Michael's plans. Clearly, she was the leader of the four women, and they looked to her as a source of strength. As the large group of them sat together around the conference table, Charlie sat at the head of the table. "I think we should break up into teams," she was saying as Jo sat to her right and Dean sat to her left. "Jo here is the expert on weapons, specifically, angel killing weapons." "What sort of angel killing weapons?" Castiel asked, glancing over at Jo with slight concern. "All sorts," Jo replied with a smirk. Dean watched her as she stood up. She wore khaki green trousers and a black tank top; her wavy blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Dean remained silent, but he couldn't help letting his eyes roam over her bare shoulders and pale skin. She was skinny, alarmingly skinny, her skin hugged her bones, and Dean could make out a few old scars on her upper arms. Dean must have let his eyes linger too long because she fixed him with a sharp glare before turning to retrieve a duffel bag that had been resting on the floor behind her. She placed the bag on the table and started unloading its contents. Dean's eyes widened as she began unloading what seemed like an endless array of assault rifles, bullets, handguns, knives of almost every shape and size, large bottles of holy oil, and piles of grenades. "Damn," Dean muttered as he glossed over the pile of weapons. He glanced at Sam who seemed equally disturbed by the stockpile. "So uh, these all kill angels?" Sam asked as he grabbed a knife, looking it over carefully. "Because we've found that the usual thing doesn't really affect angels." "These will," Hannah pointed out. "I assisted in their creation." Castiel glanced at her, no doubt disturbed by the enthusiasm she seemed to harbor towards killing her own kind. "Every bullet and every knife is coated with a special poison," Jo explained. "Holy oil mixed with a special blend of frankincense and myrrh blend which we discovered angels don't have much of a tolerance for." "Well in this world, you won't necessarily be killing angels," Sam pointed out. "A lot of them we've met have been dicks, sure, but not all of them." "I don't usually stop to ask questions," Jo pointed out with a sneer. "If it has wings I kill it." Dean winced at the hatred etched in her expression as she said that. It was clear that the women at the table, even the angel woman, seemed to harbor nothing but hatred for angels. Dean felt more than a little uncomfortable for Castiel, who looked equally disturbed by this. "I have not heard of myrrh and frankincense having any effect on angels," Castiel pointed out as he examined the arsenal. "Fine then, go ahead and test it on yourself," Jo said hotly, sneering at Castiel with pure venom in her eyes. Castiel shrunk back a little, holding up his hands. "Alright house rules," Dean began. "No one ganks angels unless you are sure they are working for Michael, got it? And no one ganks that angel," he gestured to Castiel. Hannah only looked away, not saying anything, while Jo merely rolled her eyes and sat back down. "Okay everyone, calm down," Charlie's confident voice brought everyone's attention back to her. "We're supposed to be planning, right? Dean, we don't know about your world, and you don't know about ours, so we're all going to have to fill one another in." Dean glanced at the brunette sitting in between Jo and Hannah who hadn't spoken at all yet. Dean remembered Eileen from a year ago when she'd worked with them, and he knew Sam had kept in touch with her up until her death, but he never really got to know her that well, and he had no idea what to make of this Eileen, other than she seemed to be the more reserved of the bunch. "So what's your specialty, sweetheart?" Dean asked, talking slowly as he remembered that although Eileen was deaf, she could read lips. "I fix things," she explained. "And I'm good with technology. And I'm probably the only hunter left on our earth that actually hunts monsters." "She rigged a few computers and cell phones for us since the angels destroyed Earth's wifi capabilities," Charlie explained. "She figured out how to hack into the abandoned satellites in orbit." "What do you mean actual monsters?" Sam asked curiously. Eileen shrugged. "You know, ghosts, vamps, things like that," she explained as if Sam should have known. "With everyone focused on angels, they forget that those things still exist. Ghosts especially considering they sort of out number humans these days." "Good point," Sam said with a slight grin. "Eileen was solitary before hooking up with us," Charlie explained. "She was orphaned long before the apocalypse broke out." "Alright," Dean said, slapping his hands together purposefully as he glanced around the table. He felt like he was at some kind of office board meeting and he was starting to get a little bored. "Who's ready for some action?" He eyed a few of Jo's weapons, spotting a few blades and an assault rifle. "This is serious, Dean," Sam warned. He turned to Charlie. "What do you need from us, Charlie?" "Well I think we should work in groups," Charlie responded. "Eileen, I think you should help Sam find all the bunkers." "I already tracked down a few," Sam said. "But it would be hard because they are scattered all over the world. I mean it's not like we can go check out each one of them." "Well we have bunkers in our world," Eileen explained, signing with her hands as she spoke. "Men of letters bunkers. They're all abandoned since there aren't any more men of letters, but I was exploring an old one, and I discovered they all have a little trick." "Trick?" Dean raised a brow. "What sort of trick?" "In the garage, a few of the car stalls are rigged with some kind of teleportation device. It's inside the concrete floor." Eileen spoke slowly. "It's linked to all the other men of letters bunkers in the world." "Our own teleporter," Dean looked at Sam and grinned. "Who knew? See Sam; I told you I was Batman." "How do these transporters work?" Sam asked, focusing on Eileen. Dean recognized his interest; Sam was apparently impressed with Eileen's men of letters knowledge, even if it was just in her world. "I haven't managed to figure it out yet," Eileen explained. "I haven't been in many bunkers, but I read about them. I think it has something to do with a demon and an angel's ability to teleport." "Anyway, I want you two to find all the bunkers and set of defenses in each of them, they'll be our bases," Charlie explained. "Oh and rig them up the best you can, I want to know the minute Michael is in this world." "I have a few tricks," Eileen said confidently. Castiel spoke up. "I would like to find Gabriel," he offered. "Cas, Gabriel doesn't want to be found," Sam explained. "If he did, he never would have left." "I believe his captivity has… what's the word… spoked him. I believe I can convince him and I think I know of some places I can look for him." "Hannah, go with him," Charlie instructed, and Hannah visibly tensed, looking at Charlie with alarm and fear in her eyes. Dean frowned. The angel woman seemed mortified at the prospect of going anywhere with Castiel. "Sorry, Hannah, but we all have to do this," Charlie said, sympathetically. Castiel seemed upset at Hannah's reaction to working with him but said nothing for it. Both angels seemed uncomfortable with one another. Dean wondered what might have happened to Hannah to make her so terrified. "I cannot fly," Hannah said softly, looking at Castiel for only a second before quickly turning away. "My wings are broken." "I have a vehicle," Castiel pointed out. "We will find him." Hannah only nodded, carefully avoiding eye contact with him. Dean glanced at Jo and gave her a wink. "Guess I'm working with you, baby," he said with a teasing smirk. She raised a brow at him for his boldness. "Call me baby again, and I'll show you work," she warned before looking at Charlie. "What do you have for me?" "Rig some weapons and get some supplies," Charlie ordered. "We'll need lots of it. Take charge of the defenses of every bunker. Teach Dean some of those angel killing moves." "I've ganked a few angels in my time," Dean pointed out. "This isn't my first dance." "Yeah well my weapons are special," Jo pointed out. "I know how to rig them up." "Okay I think everyone should coordinate with each other," Charlie said. "Sam and Eileen with the bunkers, Dean and Jo on weapons, Castiel and Hannah on finding the archangel, and me on raising an army. Let's focus on the mission and win this war." That was the one thing they could all agree with. Dean shuddered at the thought of this world turning into the desolate wasteland that he had seen when he was in their world. He felt conflicted about working with Jo. Although he couldn't help a little flirtatious teasing, he fully intended to take her seriously. He owed her that much, after all. He still blamed himself for her death at the hands of hellhounds, and he also knew that he was partly to blame for the life this Jo had to endure. After all, it was his mother who said no to Azazel in their world, thus preventing his and Sam's birth, and they were unable to stop this. Somehow, that made it their fault. He needed to make it right for her. "What about you, Charlie?" Eileen asked curiously. "What will you be doing?" Charlie turned to Dean. "I'm assuming you have some sort of hunter's network here?" she asked. Dean nodded. "Well, I'll get in touch with them. We need an army." Everyone seemed clear on their orders. Dean was impressed by this new take charge, Charlie. She knew how to rally the troops, and it was clear from Jo, Eileen, and Hannah's actions, that they all looked up to her, as they obeyed her orders without question, no matter how they might be bothered by who they were working with. "Check back here in a few days," she instructed as the group dispersed to carry out their orders.

1OO IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

[[ This is originally a meme, but I’m gonna do this shit as a character study because it’s been a long damn time since I’ve done anything like this.  This is for MainVerse!Jo ]]

(taken from beth kinderman and nikki walker’s the 100 most important things to know about your character. a good list to help develop a character’s background, personality, and general aspects.)

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name? Joanna Beth Harvelle

Where and when were you born? In Nebraska on April 7th

Who are/were your parents? William and Ellen Harvelle, both deceased

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? No

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. Rebuilt the Roadhouse in Nebraska, lives on a house on the back property alone

What is your occupation? Hunter/Bartender

What is the full physical description of yourself? Blonde, brown eyes, 5;4″, slim/athletic build. Pierced earlobes (that are almost always closed up), and an ankle tattoo consisting of three tiny sigils stacked over each other in white ink: an antipossession symbol, a Hexagram of Solomon, and a pentagram interlocked with the Celtic knot. Criss-crossed scars on abdomen.

To which social class do you belong? Middle

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? Suffers stomach pains from old internal injuries, nightmares

Are you right- or left-handed? Right

What does your voice sound like? Mild and even keel for the most part, can get melodic at times. Has a tendancy to get higher pitched when angry

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? Other than cuss words, doesn’t have any catch phrases

What do you have in your pockets? Pocket knife, wallet, phone, mini flask of holy water

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? Often worries lip to the point of blood when upset, can spin coins and pencils over her knuckles

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general? Rough, but good. Strained when William was hunting but healthy, happy and thriving when all three were reunited. After William’s death, things turned much more grim.

What is your earliest memory? “I remember the first time the power went out -- I was so little and I was scared, but my mom and dad lit candles and we ate sandwiches on our living room floor.”

How much schooling have you had? Got partially through University

Did you enjoy school? Did NOT

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? From Ellen, William, at the Roadhouse, and from other hunters that drifted in and out of her life

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. William has been the driving force behind almost all of her motivations

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? Yes, as well as a single mother and daughter living in a world of hunters can

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? A hunter

As a child, what were your favorite activities? Collecting things; knives, trinkets from trips/Williams hunts. Used to dabble in painting but gave it up to learn self defense and weapons training

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? Sweet, happy; hyper and bouncy and full of life and energy. When William passed, it shifts to fiercely independent and rebellious; wild and risk taking.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? No, and there were very few friends

When and with whom was your first kiss? A hunter’s son behind the Roadhouse in the middle of the night. They’d gotten caught

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? No, and it was surprisingly late -- not until after college. It was a drifter with no ties and whose name she never learned. The romantic streak in her regrets it; its a blur of memory, done out of grief and while intoxicated

If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today. Does not apply

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? Coming back from the brink of death and coming to terms with being completely alone

Who has had the most influence on you? There are several key players; William, Ellen, Castiel, Dean, and Bobby are her main influencers

What do you consider your greatest achievement? The bleak outlook and low self esteem keeps any sort of achievement feel insignificant

What is your greatest regret? Every drop of innocent blood that’s on her hands

What is the most evil thing you have ever done? There was a moment in her life after Missouri where she had a bit of a psychotic break, going off the grid for a while and indulging a very different style of hunting than she was accustomed to

Do you have a criminal record of any kind? Many small crimes, managed to stay off the radar enough that there is nothing major

When was the time you were the most frightened? On the ground in the hardware store

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? College and everything about it

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? There are too many things she’d change, too many regrets to pick one

What is your best memory? She only has a handful in total, so they’re getting listed. All memories from before Bill died, the ones she can remember. Drinking with Cas and Ellen the night before they took on Lucifer. The day she met the Winchesters. Learning constellations from Cas. Rebuilding the Roadhouse.

What is your worst memory? Every death witnessed, as well as everything surrounding her near death

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic, though with age is has waned

What is your greatest fear? Causing the death of the few people she loves

What are your religious views? Religion is synonymous with material for work

What are your political views? She has very, very little. Too busy keeping track of the supernatural problems to focus much on political ones

What are your views on sex? Loves it, though isn’t quick to offer it or accept the proposition

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? Easily, now. If the monster has killed maliciously with no hope of redemtion, killing is justified. For the good and protection of innocents and the world, killing is justified. In her mind, but very rarely, it is a justifiable form of punishment in the hunting world

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? Jo believes that humans have the potential to be fucking evil. She’s seen too many evil things to fathom one that could be considered the ‘most’

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? Yes, despite how much she doesn’t want to

What do you believe makes a successful life? Successfully spreading kindness and love and leaving the world better than when you were brought into it.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? Has huge walls; hides emotions and who she really is from everyone unless she trusts them implicitly, and even then she has to work at it

Do you have any biases or prejudices? None that I can think of, other than she is incredibly biased when it comes to people she trusts. It takes a lot to get to that point, and she can become loyal and defensive to a fault

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? Torture, she can never bring herself to cause someone pain in that fashion no matter who or what they are

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? Someone she loves

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? Can come off abrasive to other hunters or the bar brawling type, but is generally polite and pleasant to everyone. She has a quick temper though, and its easy to get on her bad side. She opens up much more with people she trusts and can be quite silly, given the occasion

Who is the most important person in your life, and why? Bill. He shaped who she is

Who is the person you respect the most, and why? Self respect is the most important

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? She considers herself friends with the Winchester Brothers, Castiel, Bobby, and several regulars that come through the Roadhouse

Do you have a spouse or significant other? No

Have you ever been in love? No

What do you look for in a potential lover? Someone kind who will treat her right, understand the life, and who makes her feel safe and can make her laugh

How close are you to your family? They are deceased

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? No, because hunting leaves no room for families. She would love to start one, in a different life

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? Winchesters, Castiel

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? The previous answer applies

If you died or went missing, who would miss you? Jo believes she would be missed initially but in the grand scheme of things, no one

Who is the person you despise the most, and why? God, and because of everything that his absence put in motion

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? Argue

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? She can if she wants, but depending on the crowd she usually prefers to blend in

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? Not particularly, too many people she can’t trust

Do you care what others think of you? No

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? Playing pool and poker, practicing shooting, painting

What is your most treasured possession? The small pocket knife that belonged to her dad

What is your favorite color? Yellow and blue

What is your favorite food? Nothing better than a homemade meal, anything made for her with love instantly becomes her favorite

What, if anything, do you like to read? Lore books, classical literature, anything concerning the occult

What is your idea of good entertainment? She enjoys a night out, but is very easily entertained. Simply coffee with someone counts as entertainment to her

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? Drinks regularly, hardly ever smokes (has had maybe five ever); cigarettes, if she ever does.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night? Hunting or running the Roadhouse

What makes you laugh? Sharp wit and general silliness is an easy way to get her amused

What, if anything, shocks or offends you? Not much anymore

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? Insomnia is common, alcohol and television or surfing the web is the distraction

How do you deal with stress? Alcohol and physical exhertion

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? Equal mix of both

What are your pet peeves? Rudeness

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? Chaos is a daily occurrence these days. Routine would be more difficult

What is your greatest strength as a person? Self reliant and independent

What is your greatest weakness? Stubborn and a hot temper, loyalty to those she loves

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? She wants to be braver

Are you generally introverted or extroverted? Extroverted

Are you generally organized or messy? Very messy with personal things, but extremely organized with anything work or hunting related

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. 1) Weapons training, 2) Memorization, 3) Sex -- 1) Cooking, 2) Public speaking, 3) Math

Do you like yourself? No

What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? At first it was because of Bill, but after Missouri its because she feels like its the least she can do with a second chance

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? Make the world a safer and more loved place

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Hopefully not dead

If you could choose, how would you want to die? Go down fighting again

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. “I’d say goodbye to the people I love, find somebody else to run the Roadhouse to make sure it would still serve as a safe haven, and then I’d kick back and drink the best goddamn whiskey I could get my hands on.”

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? “I never want there to be any question about what I believed in, stood for, and who I loved.”

What three words best describe your personality? Stubborn, kind, dry humor

What three words would others probably use to describe you? Smart ass, loyal, determined

If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? She just needs to ease up on the guilt and the self assigned responsibilities and learn a little more self love, in the emotional sense.