Do Over

A Dark Angel/Supernatural Crossover

Part Four of Six - Jo

She didn't know what to think of the kid. It was like going back to a time before she was born and it was... strangely nice. Just looking at him eased some hurt in her chest she hadn't even been aware was present. "Is he really Dean's?" She asked Bobby over a cup of whiskey-laced coffee.

"I don't know." The other hunter sighed. They watched from the porch as the kid stood out in a little patch of weeds among the old junkers and went through some form of martial arts. He wore a ragged pair of jeans cut off at the knee and the white bandages around his torso stood out like a beacon. "What else could he be?"

"Shifter?" Jo guessed without any real conviction. She wanted to believe that the little solider was Dean's. Wanted it, and didn't know why. She had been there when his, supposed, Daddy died. Unable to do anything, she and her mother listened to the screams, the sound of flesh tearing, and had breathed in the scent of ash and sulfur as the Hellhounds tracked their prey.

"Silver didn't have any effect, neither did holy water or salt. I've tried everything. Even goofer dust."

"That so?" She set her mug on the little table and rocked forward out of the wicker chair. Her knee gave a twinge as she hobbled down the stairs and out to the kid. Ever since Jericho, Missouri she hadn't quite gotten back full function of her left leg. Being mauled by black dog will do that. "Hey, kid."

The boy turned, and his eyes were so bright and so Dean's it made her breath catch in her throat. "Ma'am?"

"Heard you got some ribs busted up. Sure you should be running around?" She asked and as she did so the boy stared at her, something in his bearing shifting as he watched. His posture tensed, full lips thinned in concentration, and he froze as realization went through his body like an electric shock.

Almost as an after thought he answered her. "I heal fast, Ma'am."

She knelt down, biting back the groan of pain her knee demanded, and looked into those big green eyes. She ran her fingers through his hair and her thumb along his cheek. She wanted to take him inside and bake him some pie. Cherry had always been Dean's favorite. Her mother would make it and leave it out, but she never offered it. It was enough for the oldest Winchester just to know it was there, that they cared, and he didn't do chick-flick moments.

He peered up at her, unsure, before asking, "What's REO Speedwagon?"

"Excuse me?"

He shuffled on his feet, back going straight, and stared directly ahead. He was shutting down, one emotion at a time, and turning into the consummate soldier awaiting orders. He thought she was upset with him? Because he asked a question, or because he didn't know the answer?

It made her mad. The cold steel at her back called her name ever so sweetly and she wanted to put it in his hand and tell him to show her where the bad thing was. She had a bum leg, but that didn't mean she was a gimp. So what if her gait was a little off? She had two eyes, ten fingers, and she had better aim than most men she met.

Instead she grabbed him up and breathed in his scent. Pine fresh, and under that something indescribable. "Oh, honey. They're just an old rock band." He was too big for it, but she did it anyway. She nearly fell over propping him on her hip like a big baby but he was so damn light for his size. It was like he had hollow bones or something. "Why?"

Bobby was hiding a smile behind his hand, the old coot. Jo ignored him and nudged open the screen door with her foot. Little Dean looked like he had just been hit over the head with a brick. It was priceless. She wanted to kiss him. He was blushing and looking at anything but her. One of his legs brushed against the pistol at her back.

"I just..." He quieted.

"It's okay, Dean." She ended up depositing him on the counter. Screw her hard earned tough-as-nails Hunter reputation, she was making a pie and anyone who said anything against it was getting a mouth full of lead. "I won't be mad with you."

"I just had the thought that you like it, whatever it was." He was picking at his bandages as he said it. Jo set the sack of flour on the table and sighed. Bobby had mentioned this. He seemed to know things he shouldn't know: untrained psychic? Whoever had him before no doubt abused him and his gift.

She reached into her pocket for a band to tie back her long blonde hair. Her mother said she should cut it if she was going to stick with the hunting gig, but Ellen Harvelle had always liked it long and after Kansas City she hadn't the will to do anything beside trim the split ends. Her mother had gone down fighting and took the monster down with her. Jo sniffed and began cutting the butter into the flour to make crust.

Dean's feet hit against the bottom cabinet. "Ma'am?"

She turned and wiped a tear from her eyes smearing flour along her cheek. "Yes?"

He was watching her with something like wonder. "Is," He swallowed and pure want shone out of those hazel eyes. They swirled with color and emotion and she could have drowned in them. "Is your name Mary?"

"No, honey." In all the confusion, she'd forgotten to introduce herself. How careless. "It's Joanna-Beth. Jo."

The spark left his eyes leaving a cold desolate wasteland. "Oh."

She wondered how many times the human heart could break before it stopped working altogether.

End.