This story hasn't been betaed, I'm posting as i write it for NaNoWriMo. When it's finished, if it's any good, I might edit it and have a beta reader :) feel free to apply for the job!
I was never a fan of Jo, I found her annoying most of the time. I've come to understand her better on rewatching the series. I think she suffered from poor writing sometimes and didn't get enough time for proper character development. I think she could have more interesting if given the chance, the material is there but oh well, missed opportunities and all that.
I know some people hate her simply because she's got the hots for Dean. I welcome reviews from everyone except for these people... I don't ship Jo/Dean myself but I'm more mature than that. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy :)
Jo Harvelle, Hunter
She regretted storming out almost as soon as the engine of her truck roared to life but it was too late by then, she was not going back. She looked at the shrinking roadhouse in the rearview mirror as she drove down the desert road. Her throat tightened but she worked through it. Her mother would understand, eventually. Jo would give her some time to cool down, get used to not having her there and when she saw that Jo always came back...
Her hand slipped down to the bag on the passenger side and into the front pocket. She pulled out an old rosary, the wooden beads were worn out in places, and the silver cross was dull. It had blessed many a gallon of water. She had almost forgotten. She hung the rosary from the rearview mirror and spared a thought for her dad. Her mother thought that she did not realise just how risky the lifestyle was. But it was not true. Hell, she probably knew better than anyone. She had grown up smack in the middle of it. Her dad was a hunter, The Roadhouse was hunter freaking central and she even had her own damned 'origins' story. She had known enough 'seasoners', hunters who lasted maybe one, two years then ended up as something's meal or burned out and blew their own brains out.
But that would not be her. She was born to it, like the Winchesters and the Campbells and the handful of other hunter families in the country.
She stopped at a motel after having driven the tank nearly dry. She scanned it quickly for any signs of skeeviness then pulled out a credit card. She grinned to herself, her first solo act of credit card fraud. Daddy would be so proud.
"Need a room for a day," she said to the nondescript man. He looked up from his book and visibly perked up after quickly looking at her chest. Great, one of those.
"What's your name sweetheart?" he drawled. He was practically salivating.
Fortunately, Jo knew how to deal with the type, she had grown up in a bar.
"Deborah Harry," she handed over the fake ID that came with the name and credit card making sure he caught a glimpse of her gun in the process. He swallowed hard by which she knew he had. He handed over the keys.
"Room 23. And we run a quiet establishment here so, no trouble, ok?" he said as she slid the key off the counter and slipped it into her jacket pocket.
"No worries," she said, "you won't get any from me."
Once in the room, she dumped her stuff and kicked off her shoes. She pulled out her cellphone and dialled Dean's number.
"Jo?" her stomach did a little twist when he answered, "Where the hell are you? Ellen is frantic. Call your mother!"
She sighed, "Hi Dean! Nice to hear from you too. How have you been?"
"Seriously Jo," he grumbled, "it's good to hear from you too but you gotta stop doing this. If nothing else so we stop getting an earful from your mother every single time. You know she blames us for being a bad influence? How is that fair?"
"I will when she does..." she realised how childish that sounded and stopped, "Listen Dean, I can't call her yet, ok? We're just going to say things we don't mean. I just thought I should let someone know I'm ok and well, you and Sam are kind of the obvious choice."
"Where are you? You hunting? Tell me you're just throwing a tantrum and not actually on a case."
"Hah! As if I'd tell you after you made my mom come and get me in Philly," she self-consciously pushed aside a folder of paper clippings and photocopies even though Dean probably knew her well enough that he could guess she was already working.
"Alright," his voice was gentler now but had that gruff edge it took when he was trying not to sound like he cared. It broke her heart a little bit every time she remembered that he still would not stop thinking of her as a little sister, "I'll let Ellen know you're fine. But you stay fine, you hear me? And don't bite off more than you can chew."
"I won't," she said, "I promise. And Dean... Thank you."
He grunted, "If you need help, you know where to find us."
"I know," she smiled, feeling warm and tingly in a way she would never confess to, "Give my love to Sam and Bobby, and if you ever need bait..."
"Bye Jo," he said exasperated. She laughed as he hung up.
She dropped the phone and gave herself a moment to pine for Dean then moved on. She opened the file and went through the details of the case she was working on against the wishes of pretty much everyone she cared about.
FIFTH DESERT DEATH LEAVES POLICE MISTIFIED
The fifth set of human remains to be uncovered in the New Mexico desert has been identified as missing high school teacher Laurence Lopez, 34. Mr. Lopez has been missing from his house since August 4. His disappearance and death joins those of Dylan Brockden, James Holden, Norman Batty and Federico Lopez (no relation) earlier this year. Like the previous victims, Mr. Lopez was found with his lungs filled with clay but no other signs of physical violence. The police have declined to comment but independent sources have confirmed that the latest victim was found posed as the previous ones.
#
"Mrs. Lopez?" the disheveled woman on the others is of the net door nodded. Jo flashed her badge quickly and saw the woman's red-rimmed eyes widen, "Special Agent Carpenter of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. I'd like to talk to you about your husband's death, if you have a minute."
"You look really young for an FBI agent..." the woman croaked. Jo winced internally, her appearance had been causing her problems everywhere. At twenty-two she still looked about eighteen at best, even with her hair in a severe bun and a black suit.
"Thank you," she answered. "May I come in?"
The widow nodded and opened the door. Jo followed her into the small house. It was in poor state, dirty, with plates and laundry scattered about but she could see that underneath the grime there were signs that it had once been cared for. Her heart ached for the woman but she needed to stay in hunter-mode if she was going to bring the woman any kind of justice.
She went through all the expected questions first, questions it was obvious the woman had already gone over with the police. It was only of marginal importance as she had already read the coroner's report and all the info that was available to a crafty little hunter like her.
"Excuse me for prying but I really need to know," she started, "could there be anyone who might want to hurt your husband? A colleague? A relative? Maybe a woman?"
The woman looked out the window, unfocused. She fumbled with something in the pocket of her hoodie and pulled something out and handed it over to Jo, "I was going through his things earlier..."
Jo had to strain to hear what she was saying. She looked down at what she had been handed. It was a packet of matches, red, with a golden heart on it and a phone number on the back.
"It was in the pocket of his good shirt," the woman said, "I took it out today, for the funeral... I thought I'd call..."
Jo gave her a moment to compose herself, knowing without being told what the conclusion must be. It did not take a genius.
"It was a brothel," the woman spat out finally and tears started streaming down her face, "The Heart of Gold, I didn't even have to google it with a name like that."
"Did you find out anything else? Like..." she stopped. No. It was a terrible question ask, she could find out more by herself.
"I just hung up! I was so... So angry. I've been hurting so bad since he went missing and then I find out that he's been..." the woman swallowed hard again, "He was the love of my life, you know? I just don't..."
"I understand," Jo wanted to comfort her somehow but had nothing to contribute, it was a miserable feeling, "I think I have enough to go on for now. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Lopez and, I'm very sorry for your loss..."
"Of course, thank you," the woman wiped her face and shook Jo's hand. Once outside, Jo took a deep breath and patted the matchbook she had pocketed. First order of business now was a stiff drink, second order of business was to find out if any of the others victims had been anywhere near The Heart of Gold.