Notes: I do not own the television show Supernatural but if I did these stories wouldn't have to be "hypothetical." Oh darn. A girl can dream, right? :)

Side Notage: These shots will be based on various prompts.

Summary: It was something she never liked to show.

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Possibilities
Supernatural
Chapter o4. We All Slip Up Sometimes
Person I Owe Much To: mikesh
Rating: PG-13/T (language, a bit of violence)
Prompt: #47―weakness

Dedication: To davis395. I agree, one-upping Dean is always fun. :)

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Run fast for your mother,
Run fast for your father.
Run for your children,
For your sisters and brothers.
Leave all your loving, your loving behind.
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive
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Jo was never one to show an emotion that she didn't see necessary. When she was happy, she let everyone know, but if the people around her meant nothing to her, she wouldn't dare crack a smile. When she was pissed, oh boy, you knew it. However, when she was sad, she wouldn't tell a soul, and God forbid she ever let you know when she was scared. Some emotions were okay but fear; fear was never an option. That might have been why Dean Winchester was so flabbergasted when, on one particularly startling evening, he saw Joanna Harvelle look frightened and honestly, that scared the shit out of him.

They had just left the Roadhouse and were on a short hop, skip, and jump to Elaine, Arkansas to investigate a disappearance of young children. It turned out, after a few days of snooping around, that a very low-level demon was capturing the souls of the youth in order to try and call upon some other, more powerful, yet still lower-level demon. Needless to say, with a few choice spells and several splashes of holy water, Dean and Sam finished the hunt and were ready to head back.

However, Jo wasn't quite ready to part with the small town and insisted that they hang around for a few more days. Her reasoning was that it reminded her of a city she used to live in. It was unfortunate that she had chosen to stay when she did―because of that decision, she ended up showing one of her best friends the side of her she never wanted anyone to see.

As evening befell the small town, the trio prepared themselves for bed. Jo told the boys that she wanted to get drink from the vending machine outside the dingy motel and it was minutes later that Dean heard the most terrifying sound he'd ever had the displeasure to hear: Jo's scream.

Rushing outside, the Winchester brothers spotted Jo, her hand flinging around trying to find the small handgun she always kept on her person. Her eyes were wide with fear, something that startled Dean. Jo never ever showed fear if she could help it―maybe a few years ago when she was still naïve and unaware of the dangers of hunting, but not now. Now she was a hardened hunter who never took shit from anyone, the years of seeing things no one should ever see making her nearly immune to the darker side of humanity.

The most shocking thing about the entire situation was the creature that was holding the blonde woman hostage. It took Dean a minute to place the face of the demon but when Sam whispered, "Harvelle," it struck the elder Winchester that the demon was taking on the visage of Jo's long-deceased father.

Ink eyes sized up the brothers and in a menacing voice, it said, "You killed a dear, dear friend of mine, and now, I shall show you what that feels like."

"The hell you will!" Dean shot back and if it wasn't for Jo's stubborn stare, he might have attacked.

"Dean, think a minute," Sam muttered.

Dean pulled the sawed-off shotgun from his side, the barrel pointed squarely at the face of William Harvelle. His finger steadied itself upon the trigger though he could feel the anxiety rattling his lean frame.

Barely, he heard the whimper of Jo, "P-Please, Dean."

Please what? Please shoot; please don't?

Tension was quickly building and though Dean didn't want to admit it, he knew that every second he wasted, Jo was closer to death.

The demon's calloused fingers flickered over her throat, the sharp blade in his opposing hand following suit, a thin dribble of blood trickling down the pale column of her neck.

"Dammit," Dean cursed, his finger tensing more forcing the trigger downward yet not quite far enough for the gun to go off.

Sam placed a calming hand on his brother's shoulder, his voice soothing as he whispered, "Easy there, bro."

Jo's eyes slid closed and she could feel the fear freezing every muscle within her body, telling her that now as a time to give up and let things be as they were. It was her father, for God's sake; there was no way she could lash out at the man that had her heart since day one. There was no possible way she could attack the one man that she felt she could trust; the one man her mother actually showed a tinge of kindness to; the one man that helped her learn to throw a knife, fire a gun, dispel a demon. She knew, deep down, that this vile creature wasn't her father and yet, only a mere glance at his withering face had her still in her movements.

"Jo," Dean practically barked.

Her eyes opened again only this time, there wasn't any spark in them―her usual fighting spirit was dim beneath her bourbon-colored irises. She was timid and cautious and made no further move to fight back.

"Dammit, Jo."

"Now, now, Deano, you wouldn't want to make any sudden movements. I've got your precious girly in my arms right now. You'll be answering me for that little charade you lot did yesterday, killing off one of my closest companions."

"I don't have to answer any of your damn questions!" Dean shot back.

"Oh yes, yes you do."

The demon laughed, the knife burrowing deeper into Jo's throat, its sharpened edge leaving a small trail of blood in its wake. It moved in a graceful arch to her collarbone where it began to carve alongside the protruding bone and Jo had to bite down harshly on her bottom lip to keep from screaming.

"You bastard!" Dean cried, Sam's own voice echoing his.

Without a second thought, Dean's finger slammed down on the thin trigger, the kickback slamming into his shoulder, the resounding sound of the gunshot ringing in everyone's ears. The demon was pushed backwards, but not killed and it wasn't until Sam lifted his right hand with the Colt that the creature even realized its time was done.

With a single shot, the bullet flew through the air and embedded itself in the chest of the fake William Harvelle. Light coursed through the demon's ribcage, its glow illuminating the entire being's self and within seconds, it was dead.

Jo dropped to the ground, her knees too limp to hold her up anymore. Again, without thinking, Dean sprinted to her side, his arms coming to her shoulders to pull her back from the cracked sidewalk. His hazel eyes stared her down and it seemed she was in too much shock to even cry.

"Jo, are you okay?"

She numbly nodded and Dean grabbed onto her arm heaving her upward and to the door of his and Sam's motel room.

"You'll take Sam's bed."

"Hey!" came Sam's attempt at protest.

"Shut it."

And though Jo wasn't one for talking after incidents such as that one, she spoke a bit to the Winchesters about what she had wanted to do at the time but couldn't. Dean knew it was a big step for her and refused to mock her for anything, at least for the next month or so.

And even though everyone had questions they were dying to ask, they all knew they could wait until later. Dean would only hug her gently about the shoulders and tuck her in before kicking Sam to the floor and shutting of the lights. And when Jo whimpered in her sleep, Dean was at her side, her body next to his, though under the top sheet. He would place a soothing hand on her side, his other going to cushion his own head. He'd talk to her until she fell back asleep and neither Winchester would make comment of that incident later.

Jo might have shown a moment of weakness but the brothers knew that everyone, at one point or another, would make the slip, Jo included. She may have lapsed that night, but she'd be back the next morning, ready to kick some demonic ass. That was just the type of woman she was: She hated to show an emotion that was unnecessary but when she was pissed, oh boy, you knew it.

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The dog days are over,
The dog days are done.
The horses are coming,
So you better run.

Dog Days Are Over|Florence and the Machine


Kind of an oddball one but I just wanted it out there that Jo is one tough lady even if part of the show portrayed her as anything but. Anyways, leave your commens, criticism, and whatnot. You lovely people know the drill. :)