The thing about Harvelle's Roadhouse is that it's not really Harvelle's, least not Ellen Harvelle's. It does and has always belonged to Bill's uncle--and yes, she knows what you're thinking--but Great Uncle Harvelle has proved more enduring than most demons Ellen has come across in her day. The Roadhouse fire was ruled an accident--something Uncle Harvelle thinks of as preventable and thus blameworthy, and if his not-niece-by-blood couldn't manage to take care of the first Roadhouse, why would he rebuild her another? Good news is Ellen and Jo are the only surviving Harvelles once Bill's uncle finally kicks it, but by the time that happens and after everything they've been through, Ellen thinks even Jo wouldn't want another hunters' home base.
Bobby offers her a place to stay and she does for awhile, just until Jo surfaces again. She gets a phone call two and a half months after the Gate's been opened, accepts a brown pick-up from Bobby on the condition that it's a loan, and agrees to meet Jo in Tucson, Arizona in five days.
---
Jo's distracted and scared when Ellen pulls into the parking lot of the Best Western, so much so that she's too nervous to really embrace her mama. Ellen pulls back without letting go of her girl's shoulders and coaxes What baby? with her eyes. Jo places her palm against her abdomen and just lets the tears come.
--
Three months later, she's at Bobby's again, easing the brown-now-red-with-dust truck towards the front of the house. "I didn't think you were serious about the loan," Bobby says as he scans the road, his eyes stilling on the Civic turning onto his land. "Foreign, Ellen? After all I've done for you?" His subtle laughter turns into a genuine smile once he notices who is behind the wheel. "You ladies coming to keep this old man company for awhile?"
"No," comes Ellen's reply, and Bobby would've been put out if something in her tone had been less weary.
He turns back and Jo's eased herself out of the car, leaning heavily on the doorframe with sweat along her hairline. He takes note of her face first and can't even manage an oh at the swell of her belly.
"Don't tell the boys, okay Bobby?"
---
The baby's born in the back seat of the Civic, in the very spot the car seat now occupies. Ellen's up in elbows of birthing muck but thankfully she's not the one to actually take her grandbaby from her baby, as Jo did manage to make it to the hospital's parking lot.
Only when the intern's between Jo's knees and her mama's a hold of her hand does Ellen see the fear in Jo's eyes, a fear deeper than any first mother might have--it's not just the general notion of is my baby going to be alright? but the particulars of is my baby going to be all rightEllen doesn't allow herself to think it and afterwards, when the nurse wheels the baby into Jo's room, Jo's face softens as doubt dissipates.
Jo's recovery stay is longer than the delivery and Ellen can't ask for much more than that.
Jo names her Beau because she figured late in her second trimester that it's a good name for either sex. The birth certificate says Isabeau but her grandbaby never learned to respond to that unless she was in trouble, and soon after she learned to develop selective hearing in those instances too.
The space for the father's name is left blank on the birth certificate, Jo not really commenting nor meeting her eyes whenever presented with the paperwork. Ellen thinks that's fine--a proclamation of the three Harvelle women from the start.
---
Ellen works the day shift at the diner down the block, climbing the three flights of stairs just in time for dinner with her family before Jo jets off to night school. Three days a week Jo even manages the 10pm to 6am shift at that same diner as Ellen. On these days, Jo stumbles in just as Ellen's making a pot of coffee, and sits with her textbooks spread out on the table just as Ellen finishes straightening her uniform. Beau's usually awake by the time Ellen leaves, so she kisses her grandbaby on the forehead, careful to avoid the mess of whatever Jo's feeding her that always ends up in the babe's downy curls. Ellen knows they nap together in the afternoon, but nothing seems to lessen the puffiness around Jo's eyes. Ellen, for her part, keeps clear of the mirror.
---
They don't hunt any more, was never a question really. Any desire in Jo that didn't die that night in Duluth certainly did once little Beau first gave a sturdy kick under her ribs. She figures her daughter misses it in that way one misses someone else's life, but Jo doesn't grieve for what she's lost in keeping her baby safe. Ellen has the grace not to indulge in I-told-you-sos.
Even still, they are what they are even if they aren't what they were, so when a hunt presents itself (as they sometimes do), Ellen passes word along for Bobby and within weeks the job is done and the doers gone without so much as an it's taken care of. As such, it was only a matter of time before the Winchesters rolled in.
---
When Dean sees Beau for the first time, his eyes widen for a moment that would have been undetectable in front of everyone other than Sam and Jo and Ellen. Ellen keeps her mouth shut and Jo's a better lair than even she could have guessed. Says she's been seeing this guy in her business class, a real nice guy named Tom who's the oldest of four kids and the first to go to college, even if it is just community college at night. And it's true, almost, except the part where she tried dating Tom for a month and a half before they both realized she didn't have the time and the energy and he realized there were limits to being a nice guy. Dean smiles and says with meaning that's great--I'm real happy for you, Jo and doesn't bother to question why a guy who, when you do the math, Jo's been dating for two years isn't around nor leaves any sign of his presence in their lives, but for his benefit or theirs, Ellen doesn't really know.
Sam smiles and coos at Beau, comfortable in his ignorance that she couldn't possibly be his.
---
On Beau's second birthday Ellen meets a man who refuses a slice of cake until everyone else has been served. His eyes are as warm as his smile, and he dotes on the little boy who belongs to Tamika, a finance major that Jo's warmed up to ever since she learned they had more in common than just midterms.
Going on a date is easier than Ellen could have imagined, now that Tamika and Jo have teamed up on childcare. Dating too is easier than Ellen remembers and could have imagined after her Bill.
By her sixth date with Henry, Jo and Tamika have all but made copies of apartment keys for each other. It's great, seeing her baby have a friend, a real friend, and one who is female and hates guns. And Beau has all but found a permanent playmate in Jamal, maybe even something like a brother. He steals her toys without asking and she shoves him in punishment, stealthily making certain no eyes are trained on her.
--
"God this is awful," Tamika says to no one in particular. "Some guy, some youth leader known for running an after school program downtown, has just shot himself after opening fire at the youth center today after school. It's terrible, I mean, I've read about this guy before--it's just so unreal. It's like he went crazy, like he became possessed." Jo has been in the kitchen stirring the cheese into the macaroni, but halfway through the breaking news report, she strides over to the t.v. and turns the nob. "C'mon Tamika, I told you I don't like to watch that kind of stuff. Now come on and let's eat--the green beans are almost done."
And it's not that easy, not really. There's no switch that makes the Harvelle women just women and not hunters, but as Ellen lifts Beau into her high chair, as Jo scoops portions onto paper plates and plastic bowels, as Tamika pours milk into cups placed at a distance only comfortable to adult hands, and as Henry makes ready to say grace, it's enough not to remember, at least for the moment.