One week after her last hunt
Jo threw the small golden charm bracelet into the open fire-place as an invisible force slammed into her from behind. She screamed as she was hurled across the room and smashed into a nearby mirror. Jo rolled herself onto her back in time to see the spirit materialize in front of her. The girl smiled at Jo and beckoned with a pale white hand. Jo tried to scramble away but the spirit flickered from a standing position to straddling her chest. Its currently corporeal weight was enough to press Jo securely into the hardwood. She squirmed,trying to reach for the iron poker that lay in a stand just out of reach. Suddenly the girl's hands were wrapped tight around Jo's throat.
Why wasn't the damn charm melting?! She fought against the cold hands that cut off her air supply. Jo felt herself weakening, as she gazed up into the frightening blue eyes. Oozing black ectoplasm dripped from the thing's eyes, ears, nose and mouth onto her as she writhed underneath. Jo could feel her strength waning fast now. I'm not going to make it. Just as Jo's vision began to dim, the pressure around her throat vanished. She forced herself to a sitting position out of sheer force of will and met the girl's last baleful glare . Finally, the spirit flickered and was gone.
Jo sagged back onto the dusty hardwood floor as the adrenaline faded from her veins. She breathed heavily, catching up on the oxygen she had been deprived of. With each breath her throat burned from being so tightly constricted. Jo became aware of the sensation of liquid running down her face, she touched her cheek and felt something warm and wet, when she brought her fingers away they were covered in black ectoplasm. She grimaced in disgust. Jo got up and tried to wipe off as much of the stuff as she could. God it stank! The smell of it was overpowering and disgusting. Her stomach heaved and she knelt over a nearby couch to collect herself.
What is wrong with me? She asked herself as she placed her head between her knees. She had dealt with ectoplasm half a dozen times before and had never had this violent a reaction. Jo straightened as soon as she figured her stomach had settled enough for her to move. She took two steps and her hands flew automatically to her mouth as she tried to hold back the sudden surge of vomit. Intense waves of nausea rolled through her body. Despite herself, Jo dropped to her knees and gave in to the sickness.
After a quick change of clothes and cleaning herself up the best she could. Jo was in her truck heading down the interstate. Presently, she felt entirely healthy aside from the injuries acquired from the spirit. Jo had her music on as loud as she could tolerate but it still couldn't stop her mind from racing, or more specifically, calculating. Withstanding the occasional hangover, Joanna Beth Harvelle hadn't been sick since childhood. Jo knew she wasn't sick, and she definitely wasn't one to be squeamish. That left her with one option and immediately denial set in. No no no.
Jo pulled into the first rest stop that she came to. She had to know for sure. A bell tinkled as she pushed open the door. She mechanically examined the contents of the shelves until she found what she was looking for. She grabbed the pregnancy test and went to the counter. The female clerk stared at her oddly and Jo realized that she still had a lot of oily ectoplasm all over her, not to mention the various cuts and bruises she had just received. Jo quickly paid for the test and asked for the key to the rest stop bathroom.
Shortly Jo was sitting on the lid of a toilet in a grimy stall. She read the graffiti while she waited, focusing on keeping her breathing normal. After a while she glanced at her wrist watch. Time was up. Her hand shook as she picked the test off the top of the toilet paper dispenser. It was positive. And for the first time since the rape; She cried.
Jo didn't stop to glance at her reflection in the grimy mirror before exiting the restroom. Once in her truck she sat quietly, letting her mind clear. Duluth had been just over two months ago. Jo was definitely over 8 weeks pregnant. She smacked her head on the steering wheel. Jesus she was stupid. Jo had been so focused on hunting that she hadn't considered the obvious possible consequences and definitely hadn't noticed the obvious symptoms.
She leaned back in the seat, and gingerly lifted up the hem of her cotton t-shirt. Jo's stomach was flat and hard, with no visible evidence of the news she had just received. She sighed and dropped her shirt, then tried to turn her keys in the ignition. Jo's hands were shaking so badly that all she managed to do was yank them out and drop them down by the pedals. Great. There was no way she would be able to drive in this condition. Jo glanced at her wristwatch, it was fast approaching four in the morning, and with no motels within walking distance.
Jo yawned and rubbed her eyes. Stress, physical exertion and emotional fatigue were swiftly creeping up on her. She blinked hard, trying to keep her eyes open. Despite her best efforts she began to slide down and across the seat. Jo was asleep before her head hit the upholstery.
She was awake suddenly, with the sensation that more than a couple hours had passed. Jo blinked, wondering what had awoken her so abruptly. The sky outside the window of her truck was still a deep blue. A glow on the horizon just barely hinted at the coming sunrise. Jo rubbed her temples as memories of the previous few hours came flooding back into her consciousness. Her stomach dropped suddenly as realization washed over, and unconsciously her hand flew to her abdomen. Pregnant.
One week later...
Jo pushed through the glass doors with her head down. Already this was not what she had expected: There were no angry protesters parading in front of the clinic, no waving signs or shouted obscenities. There were no barriers to stop what she was about to do. She was going to erase all evidence of what had happened to her in Duluth. Jo pressed her lips together determinedly. She knew this was the logical decision, even if the father of the baby had not been possessed by a demon. Aside from eliminating potential evil offspring, Jo knew she was not ready for a child, hell she had never wanted any kids anyway! She was broke, twenty-one, single, and most importantly... a hunter. It was her duty as a hunter to end this before it even started.
Jo approached the front desk confidently. The curly-haired receptionist was on the phone, twirling the cord absentmindedly as she spoke. She acknowledged Jo and nodded to a stack of forms on the front desk. Jo grabbed a form and pen and found a seat among one of the squashy turquoise chairs that littered the waiting area. She needed all of this to be over. Jo just wanted to get back to the life she had made for herself. She tried to print her name at the top of the page. Her pen was poised to write, but as soon as she began to scrawl her name her hand began shaking. Shocked, Jo tried to fight the strange reaction her hand was having. Jo focused on steadying her hand but to no avail, the shaking had spread throughout her entire body. Jo stood up, still shaking. She couldn't do it. For the life of her, she couldn't do it.
Jo left her truck in the parking lot and went on foot. She needed time to allow her mind and body to calm. Jo kept her head down, watching her feet as they moved mechanically across the sidewalk. People passed her in both directions, but Jo was mostly unaware of them. Finally, due to pure fatigue, Jo's feet slowed. How long had she been walking? The sky was a deep blue and the street lights were just starting to turn on. She blinked at the building she found herself standing in front of. She almost laughed at what she saw. Fittingly, she had somehow made her way to a church.
Jo gazed towards the building uncertainly. It was a beautiful structure, all gray stone and stained glass windows. Finally, realizing that standing on the sidewalk for a prolonged period of time would attract too much attention, she walked through the heavy oak doors.
Jo paused on the worn, thick, maroon carpet that separated the pews, again afflicted with uncertainty. What was she looking for here? Certainly not spiritual 'reassurance'. She breathed in deeply and despite her misgivings a strange feeling of calm overtook her senses. The air was musky and stale with the smell of wax and dust. It was a comforting smell from the childhood days when Ellen had still brought her for Sunday service. She slipped into one of the pews near the exit, so she could escape quickly as needed.
She gazed towards the pulpit, and the large crucifix that adorned it. A man was kneeling before the crucifix, Jo hadn't noticed him before and her shoulders automatically stiffened. The man rose slowly and turned to reveal his white-collar and gentle-mannered face. Jo relaxed slightly, she watched through lowered lashes as the man made his way down the aisle towards her.
"May I join you?" He smiled at her, blue eyes kind. Jo briefly wondered if he approached every parishioner in this manner, or if in fact she had set off his priest "radar".
Jo nodded in the affirmative, tensing despite herself. He sat down next to her, taking care to make sure to give her a fair amount of space. After some time had passed in comfortable silence, Jo voiced the question that had been simmering within her.
"Do you believe that a person has..." She paused, not quite sure how to phrase this particular question. She swallowed before continuing, hoping she would not sound like too much of a nut job.
"If a child is conceived in evil, is it destined to be evil?".
The priest looked a little stunned, clearly her question had come at him from left field. Jo gritted her teeth, hoping that she was not about to be hit with a barrage of awkward questions. Questions she could not answer truthfully.
The middle aged man took some time to answer. His blue eyes raised to meet hers," I believe that God has a plan for everyone." His conviction rang clear in his mid-range voice. Jo's shoulders drooped, That was helpful. Clearly coming here had been a waste of time. She grabbed her jacket and made to leave.
She twitched involuntarily as the priest gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Jo hated herself for still being afraid of physical contact with men. Seeing her discomfort, the man quickly removed his hand.
He smiled kindly to her, "That being said, no one is born inherently evil." His eyes full of more understanding and sympathy than she would have liked. "We all have a choice".
Present Day
The 1967 Chevy Impala pulled up in front of the small house, an almost imperceptible creak audible over the low rumble of the engine. Damn. I am going to have to take a look at the brakes next chance I get. Dean hopped out of the car and closed the door with a slam, Sam quickly followed suit. Dean inhaled the cool night, it felt damn good to be outside after the fifteen hour drive to the Boston. And that wasn't counting two hours driving around Boston trying to find what Sam suspected was Jo's address. Dean rounded the Impala and started making his way up the front walk as Sam lagged behind. All the blinds were drawn and no light was visible that Dean could make out. It was clear that the occupant(s) were either away or sleeping.
Sam glanced at his brother, "I don't know, I think maybe we should come back in the morning".
"It is morning... technically". The pair had driven all night and it was fast approaching dawn.
The hell if Dean was going to wait for daylight, the two of them had driven across country to check up on Jo. And that was after the hours of research spent on trying to track down her hidey-hole. Frankly, Dean wanted to know what in the hell was going on, he didn't care if he disturbed Jo Harvelle's beauty sleep.
The pair paused at the door. Sam shot him an apprehensive look as he knocked neatly on the wood. There was no answer. Dean suppressed a sigh and banged heavily on the door. The brothers exchanged meaningful glances and in one smooth motion, Sam rotated to block Dean from street view. Dean extracted his lock picks from his jacket pocket and bent over the lock. After a short while a soft click sounded, and Dean slipped into the dark entrance. Sam shot one last look behind him to see if anyone was watching and followed his brother inside.
As a result of a lifetime of Marine style training, neither brother made any audible noise as they moved within the home. Out of habit, Sam left the door barely ajar so to avoid sound and to facilitate a quick exit. The house was dead silent. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Dean moved silently and quickly, Sam following his lead. Living room, kitchen, washroom. Dean paused at a door that was slightly ajar. He eased the door the rest of the way open and in a single fluid movement, slipped into the room. Sam moved to check the other rooms in the hallway.
It was a small bedroom complete with a dresser, desk and double bed. An unmade bed. The door swung closed behind him, and Dean felt a surge of adrenaline as he realized his mistake. He heard the cocking of a shotgun.
A female voice sounded,"Get on your knees and put your hands on the back of your head."
Dean could clearly recognize Jo's voice. "Jo, its Dean!"
"I said, get on the floor!" Yup, it was definitely Jo. Swearing softly, Dean lowered himself to his knees.
"Jo, its me! Dean Winchester."
"I don't..." Her voice faltered.
"You know, Dean Winchester, the handsome guy who saved your ass back in Philadelphia?" His back was still turned to her, so she still could not see his face.
Dean didn't have to wait for a response. Jo screamed as she was grabbed from behind by Sam. He wrested the shotgun from her grip and tossed it onto the bed while keeping a good grip on her. Once his hand was free, he flicked the light switch on.
Sam let out a surprised grunt and finally loosened his grip on Jo, and she tore out of his arms. She faced both brothers in fighting stance. Dean glanced at Sam who was looking at his hand in disbelief.
"She bit me!"
Dean held his hands up to show he meant know harm. "Jo, seriously its us! Douse us in holy water if you need to, just lay off with the biting!"
"Uh Jo," Sam said, his voice suddenly soft. "We aren't here to hurt you... you should sit down, um... caus' of-" He gestured towards her stomach.
Dean looked at Jo properly for the first time, immediately noticing the the large bulge of her stomach through her tank top. She was heavily pregnant. Jo did not look at Dean. Her blazing eyes were fixed on Sam. Jo had the strangest expression on her ghost-white face. A mix of shock, disgust and -Dean could swear- fear.
"Leave... please leave" she whispered, backing up until she was against the wall.
Sam stepped forward and took hold of her shoulders, in attempt to reassure her in typical Sam-like fashion.
Her eyes widened in raw fear. "Don't! No.."
She collapsed in a dead faint, Sam immediately catching her before she hit the floor. He scooped Jo up in his arms and placed her gently on the bed.
Dean stared at his brother incredulously.
"What was that about?"
A/N: Reviews are the bread and butter of the fanfic writer! So... ahem... you know what to do!