A/N: This fic is part one of an AU series I'm working on called Words Against Skies (see next break below). It involves the concept of Sam Winchester and Jo Harvelle working as a hunting team post 3x11: Mystery Spot. It's sketchy, and angsty, and rough, but bear with me here, would ya'? Pretty please with Jensen and Jared on top? Oh dear god. Santa, I know what I want for Christmas this year…
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go throw things over this terrible dilemma.
part one, words against skies
and these songs that we sing / do they mean anything
Charlotte Gainsbourg.
Jo Harvelle isn't your average, all American girl.
Sure, she looks like your average, all American girl… But, she isn't.
She can't remember a time that she didn't know that monsters are more than just stories made to scare people. When she was five, her daddy joked with her to watch out for the boogieman beneath her bed. She slept with a knife under her pillow and waited for the chance to go at its throat.
The first time she broke a bone wasn't because of the usual kid stuff. Didn't fall out of a tree, or get pinned in a fight; wasn't even doing anything she wasn't supposed to. Naw, her arm was cracked in two different places because a possessed Hunter walked into a bar and decided to take it out on her.
She rammed a knife through his chest so violent, they couldn't even get the blade out before the funeral.
Hunting monsters is her specialty, and when she's got their blood drippin' all down her skin, it makes her smile, just a little…
So yeah, Jo Harvelle isn't your average, all American girl. And if you tell her otherwise, Jo Harvelle will not hesitate to aim a shotgun cocked and fully loaded at your face.