status ongoing
background post-2x14 (SPN), pre-series (Revolution)
notice This is my first attempt at a crossover ever. But I've recently finished SPN and Revolution, and I can say I'm a hardcore fan of both—although I've been watching SPN for years. And since I ship Jo with pretty much everyone, this was bound to happen. Go easy on my Bass; he needs love. Cover image by me.

i. lady sings the blues

After the fiasco with the Winchester brothers in Duluth, Jo figures that she can't really stay there a minute longer. The bar is a mess, bottles are broken and the window is smashed. And it's not like she can explain what happened without getting hauled by the cops—or locked away in a mental institution.

So, without further ado, she picks up what little stuff she has, empties the bar's cash register, and with a scrambled sorry on a dirty napkin, she catches the next bus out of the state.

She spends the first two hours of the trip crying silently into her jacket, because she was just beginning to like the place when those goddamn Winchesters marched in and destroyed her life—again. Duluth was a nice city, her employer was an old man with a heart of gold, and she had even established some sort of friendship with the other two barmaids that worked shifts at the bar along with her.

It was not an idyllic life, but it was her life, and it was the first time she had built something for herself and by herself—all the way from the ground to the top.

So, she cries. She laments the loss of something that was entirely her own and was taken away from her so harshly. Because Jo Harvelle is, first and foremost, a girl. She might not like accepting that, and definitely doesn't take kindly to others thinking of her as such, but at the end of the day, she's just a runaway girl with high hopes and dreams of becoming a hunter, just like her daddy.

Jo cries for her mom, too. Not because Ellen's all alone, running the Roadhouse and babysitting Ash, but because she's all alone because of her. Because she doesn't understand — she never did — her need to do this, to hunt. It's the only thing she has left to remind her of her father, and Ellen just doesn't understand that.

Because she has had her fill of Bill Harvelle back when he was still alive. She has had her chance to get to know him, to memorize him, to love him. She doesn't know what it's like to want to do the things he did because that's the only way she can feel close to him.

Ellen doesn't understand, so Jo stops trying to explain.

Instead, she silently weeps for everything that goes wrong in her life when all she's trying to do is right, as the miles pile up between her and Duluth.

It turns out that the bus goes to Chicago. That's good. Chicago is a bigass city you can easily lose yourself in and Jo just wants to get lost right now. On the same day she sets foot in Chicago, she drinks herself into a stupor and she fucks a stranger into oblivion, just because she can.

And because of Dean. Because it always comes down to Dean in her life. Dean, with the pretty eyes and full lips and the soul that's kinda rotting inside his body. Dean, who doesn't even have the decency to text her.

Sam's okay. We got the demon. Take care.

She's not asking for a proclamation of undying love. Hell, she's not even asking for Dean's attention. She just wants his acknowledgement. That she's a person of her own. Not just Ellen's runaway daughter, Bill's little girl, the blonde who serves beers at the Roadhouse. She wants to be acknowledged as Jo.

But she isn't. Won't be, for a long time. So she drinks her sorrows away and fucks her heart to numbness and the morning after, she's already on another bus.

Two days later, Jo plants her feet firmly on the ground of Jasper, Indiana.