Chapter 1
A second page.
The dream left her. The subtle feeling of nearly being awake penetrated her being.
She opened her eyes. She was alone in a bed, alone in a room, alone. The air tore the curtains, as if playing. Light was shimmering through the cracks. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath exhaling slowly. She pulled unconsciously more tightly at the blanket around her frame and came closer to the window. She was cold. It was still early. Outside was quiet and peaceful morning. Another morning, another room, one more day to go through.
She returned to the bed. She didn't want to begin the day yet. She found a note at the other side of the bed: "Went out to find breakfast". Short and simple to the point. She wasn't hungry. Simple.
Last night was a breakthrough for both of them.
Yes, they had lost so much, yes it was none of their faults but they didn't have to say it because they both knew that they would blame themselves till their last breath.
They worked out the way to go on. If they give up now, they will fail their Gem.
They have to avenge.
And what is the better way to do it than to make sure that nothing like that will ever happen to any other family.
Holstein and the organization became their new target.
They will be strong for their baby.
Jo didn't even realise that she was crying and that she was not alone any more. She was so enclosed in her thoughts, she didn't notice that Dean had come back. And that he was hugging her and that she felt better.
The call of Dean's cell broke their moment.
He ignored it in the beginning. But the damn thing wouldn't stop. Reluctantly Jo left Dean's embrace.
"It must be urgent, the one who's calling is quite persistent." said Jo. She grabbed her things and went to the bathroom.
"It's always urgent." said Dean tiredly
"At least check the ID", she said closing the bathroom door. "I will be ready in ten."
She could no longer be a mess. This luxury was not affordable. She studied herself in the mirror. She was a survivor, a fighter and a protector. She would just have to create a better version of all these three.
Following her sudden desire to change the things she took the scissors and started cutting her hair swiftly. Something, still something was under her control in this life.
Curl after curl fell down. Her new hair cut was rather uneven, asymmetrical. Some curls were longer, others shorter, there was no rule. She threw in a smirk to her reflection. She wouldn't be able to shift the look in her eyes, she would just cover it later with glasses.
When she left the bathroom Dean was still on the phone. She could see that he was angry. Tired. Aged.
She started packing. After several minutes she was ready. Dean was sitting on the bed, his head in his hands.
"It was Bobby", he said not taking his hands from his eyes, only bearing his head deeper.
She kept silence. When she felt that Dean was reluctant to go on she asked:
"What did he say?"
Dean pushed himself back on the bed.
"He found a case he wanted us to deal with it"
"Good."
"Not good."
Dean's answers were clipped. He was on edge.
Somehow she knew that he would feel responsible for all the shit that had happened and that would happen. And that he would die this instant if he could have brought his baby back.
But she was an improved version of Jo, with erratic haircut and sarcastic, pragmatic attitude to life. This Jo didn't need a wreck for a husband. She needed the hunter, the partner. The fighter, the Winner.
She ached to comfort him, but how many times one can pick up the broken pieces and glue them? She buried the sympathy deeper, locked it and threw the key away. These feelings were not an armor to shield from the pain, to strain it.
She was standing in front of him. But he couldn't see her as his hands were covering his face in a weak attempt to cover more.
She kicked his shin.
"Dean, i packed up my bag. i am waiting you outside."
She left staying true to her words. The slam of the door was like a slap, a shake.
He got up. She was nowhere in the room. It was not one of his nightmares. She left.
Oh, she said she was waiting outside, but was she?
Maybe she finally realized that she would be better off without him? That he was the sole reason of her misery, the sole reason of ...their baby ...?
He snapped out of his thoughts, cold water streaming through his face leaving traces on his hands. He leaned on the sink for support.
the floor was covered with fair curls. He gathered them carefully before leaving the room.
She was not just waiting outside, she was sitting inside the Impala. The driver place. New hair, new attitude, he strode forward assessing his wife.
He opened the door. She smirked: "Took you long enough."
Their eyes met.
Pain. Plea. Choice.
"Move, woman!"
She slid to the passenger seat, not a bit offended by the tone.
Let the game begin.