Season 6

Sometime before episode 6

Nothing was happening inside the house from what I could tell.

Had Sam already been here?

No Challenger or Impala in sight. Then again I hid mine behind and tree line; Sam would keep it out of sight too.

I was sure I would beat them to the call about the nest. Maybe they weren't here yet.

Either way, it was quiet, and that usually meant the monsters know we're here.

Great.

Well I was gonna make 'em wait for it or come out to me.

My heart pounded for who could be in there for me.

In through the nose, out through the mouth, I took the ear buds and rolled my wrists to fit them in my ears. On shuffle, I pressed play and let the phone take a musical direction for tonight.

When the first few strums of one of my favorite songs sounded quietly from the buds, a grin broke on my face.

Dance of Death. Maiden.

Perfect mood music.

I roll my neck slowly from side to side, allowing deep cracks to burst forward. Giving each side a turn to stretch out, I hum along. Twining my fingers for palms facing my front, I twist them around and stretch out, releasing some more air bubbles trapped in my knuckles. I move my outstretched arms above my head, keeping the shoulders down. I applied the weight of my arms to the back of my head, bending it down to elongate the cervical spine. Rolling and swinging my arms to check mobility came next, each arm held in tension 'til warmth.

I dive down, continuing my stretching routine as the lyrics began. Hamstrings relieved, I fold forward, palms fully on the floor. My back cracks in response.

Yummy.

"...chill the bones…" I let my voice sing the phrase quietly while preparing my body.

From there, I lunge back deep, each leg in turn, my elbows meeting the dirt ground. I tucked my neck under my knee each time. Quads loosened next, and I'm feeling satisfied that I'm ready.

I pull up the shining maroon trunk and got my equipment; five blades: machete strapped across my back, Damascus Bowie on my left, three black pearl finished Whetstone Stilettos fastened to my belt on my right. Last, I stored Ash's brass knuckles in my front pocket.

Guns would be no use, deep cuts and hard hits kept them bleeding and weak, but severing the spinal chord and head trauma were the only sure thing to end them.

Ever since Sam and Campbell rode out to Bristol, we began to realize reports of the Arachne were popping up everywhere.

And the strange surge of monster activity storms on.

"I was rambling enjoying the bright moonlight," I burst out, clicking the trunk down, "gazing up at the stars."

Starting to walk toward the building, I pull out the left ear bud, tying the other to my sports bra, I unzip my Droid from my pant line on my back, scrolling for another selection.

I love the song but I need some thrash while hunting. When I cool down later, I'll return to it.

The song stopped Dickinson mid-lyric, and Judas Priest's strumming caught my anticipating ear.

Mouth-singing "jow" noises to match it, dancing on light feet up across the grass to the house.

I hear a sudden commotion from inside.

Hurrying, I climb the steps, drawing one Stiletto from my right, and my Damascus in left. Stepping in the open door carefully, despite the sounds of struggle. The small entryway splits off, a thin rounded wall at my front.

The music climaxes and continues a roll as I walked in, back to the wall and saw a flash of movement from the right side.

A hiss joins the clamor of commotion sounding from the room on my left, triumphing over the "Oooo" in my ear.

Before he lunges at me, I throw the Stiletto, and the singing begins.

It lodges in his mid-forehead, crashing to me dead. I leap to the side to avoid him, spotting six figures grappling in the other heavily webbed room lit by a shelved candles.

The boys were here.

'No hesitating, my body's aching'

I step to help Sam - and was pushed out the open door, hard. I trip over the threshold. Balance regained, I counter the newcomer's shoving with Damascus into his belly.

He screamed his pain in my face, monstrosity showing intricately crystalized eyes and molted brow. I kneed, then kicked him back. He fell, head cracking on the rock basing the separating wall.

To be sure, I chopped the Damascus across his throat, and his screech was stopped mid-pitch.

I hurried in again, finding a short stairway leading down to the boys in the yellow glow. I stepped down, and grabbed the attacking creature pinning down Dean. I thrust him up and he hit the front window, arms failing enough to rip the buds from my ear and the jack from the socket.

The song continued to blast on speaker from inside the storage packet in my pants, "...we're ready to hit the roof!'

He showed his fangs, and he begins with a webbed jab, I block, avoiding the sticky substance, then round back with a stab to his throat. I sever the spinal cord.

Gurgling, he falls.

I turn to Dean who is on his feet, back up the stairs to chase another into the other room.

Another caught my attention, shrilling at me, a woman, who pelted around the bend from the other wall side at the beginning of the hall. I threw the Stiletto. She tilted her shoulder and it hit the wall behind.

I tensed up, lifting Damascus. She dodges the slash and claws on my right shoulder, throwing all her weight on me. I fall, but bring her down with me, momentum turning the impact to our sides.

'Uhhh, Delivering the Goods.'

We thud parallel to the fireplace; her back facing the rock.

She bares her fangs, I cut a gash on her low back, she pushes away from me, seething. I roll to my back, lift my shin to connect on her face, then force down my boot to pin her arm to the floor with force. I roll on my right knee, same arm clamping her wrist down.

No webs were getting me today.

Feeling the open wound on my shoulder from her claws, I tighten Damascus on her throat.

I was about to cut, but was wretched off and thrown on the couch, the music muffled.

Dean had lost his mark.

The Arachne growled in his efforts, poison fangs coming down on me. I kicked with my right, planting a firm flat foot to his gut. He made a vomit-like noise and retreated a few steps while I managed to slip on the knuckles in my pocket.

Dean and I pulled a switcheroo.

I launched myself up and slammed them into his face, his nose cracking and bleeding. He stumbled, reaching behind his back and -

'Hot blood, doing good,'

Fuck he has a Glock.

No fair.

I prepped myself.

"Gun!" Dean wasted his breath instead of focusing on the woman.

I arranged my blade to parallel the length of my forearm, and went for his wrist. It sliced, he roared, the woman was back on me from behind.

Damn Dean, again? He was rusty on the combat.

She dug deeper into her recently created wound, and I shouted, turning to rip her away from my right shoulder.

With a sudden deathly noise and spurt of blood she fell for the couch; Sam got my back.

I turn focus back on the male Arachne and he crashes his fist across my face, some web sticking to my brow. In the shock Damascus clattered to the floor and I step back.

He aims for close-range execution.

"Watch-"

I slide my right leg down into a lunge, ducking from the chamber, and let my last Stiletto fly. It sheaths itself through the underside jaw. Spinal chord cut.

Out, Dean didn't finish.

'Yeah, Delivering the goods.'

It was a perfect hit. It ought to be, I was insanely close to him.

Fearing his finger to pull the trigger in death, I immediately grab his wrist, returning to standing and direct it to the ceiling instead.

It discharges, I wince and release, he falls below the couch.

More were stomping down the hall. Two; male and female.

I ran ahead, Sam beside me.

Sam slammed her against the wall, and I slid to yank my Stiletto from the adjacent wall right beside my new target.

He snarled when I closed my palm around it, clawing for my head. I turned with the wall to avoid it, the plaster crumbling where I would have been.

The music blared, building up again.

I stab his arm with Damascus, pinning his dangerous claws to the wall, then drove the Stiletto into his side neck, feeling the cartilage crunch through it. Blood spurted out the side and slid over my gloves.

Sam and I made eye contact, he had yet to finish her off. He gestured to Dean who had another on him.

I understood.

'Have it your waaayy.'

It annoyed me how well we communicated.

Sheathing Damascus, I jerked the Stiletto from my last kill and threw it at the back of Dean's bulky male opponent's head.

Another hit.

Sam snapped his mark's neck.

After the body fell, Sam and I turned to face the hall, ready for a next wave.

None came.

"Clear." Sam affirms.

I unzipp my phone from my back.

'we don't pull no-'

Pressing the stop button, the air is bloody, boring and thick with no soundtrack. But I know how much music annoys Sam during hunts, so I ended it as soon as I was able. Even though the house was clear and the fight over.

Ten between me and Sam. One for Dean.

Man, a year off really slows one down.

Sam and I made eye-contact, and nodded to each other in confirmation and a silent 'thanks' from him.

I stepped over and bent down to retrieve my Stiletto from my third kill's throat. I then rounded the wall to the other side to collect the other from my first.

Dean had leaned forward to pull the one from the back of my sixth's head.

I didn't take it back from him, avoiding the older Winchester.

I wasn't sure why I was doing that yet.

All knives minus one, I stepped over the body and crossed the threshold out; my work was done.

"Who's that?" I heard Dean say at my back to Sam.

I scoffed.

Really?

I guess the candle-light was dim, but still; really?

Campbell Compound

Later that night.

"Slayer!"

"Hey Mark."

We greeted each other as I stepped into the compound, resting my weapon's bag on the table while I rounded to the hall to the barracks. Third door on the right was my room. I opened the door and threw the pack on my bed.

Without stopping I returned to the hangout room, where Mark and Gwen were cleaning some weapons.

"Gwen." I sat next to her and started unzipping the bag.

"Hey there, haven't seen you in a while."

"I was solo for a while. Harpy in Oregon, Lami in Kansas, Skinwalker in St. Louis and Arachne nest one state up. I missed all the Shifter action I'm told."

"And the Djinn." Mark chimed with an unmistakable grin.

Gwen and I shared a look, "So I've heard."

"So you did just come back from hunting with Sam and Dean?" Mark asks with a tease in his eye.

There was no deterring him from digging at the subject.

I pulled out my bloodied Damascus, and started to clean it, "Yes."

"How was that?"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his underlying context, "I saved their asses."

"Really, now?"

Fuck the day Sam told them about my story with Dean.

I really hope that Sam would have the sense to keep details about our...partnership quiet.

"More like Dean's ass."

Mark laughed, then took notice to my blade, "Where the hell did you get that?!"

I smirked, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You know Hitler had those blades made special for each élite officers, he was obsessed with the steel. They're goddamn expensive how the hell did you afford it, you Nazi?"

"Please," I gestured the tip of it toward him, "I don't think I can handle anymore nicknames for me. Stick to one, it's getting hard to remember."

"You're just saying that because you like my calling you Slayer."

I grinned, "Doesn't have the same ring as Buffy, but I'll take it. As long as it's not a blonde joke."

"May I?" He gestured for the knife.

I handed it over for him to inspect, "Clean it while you're at it."

"How was the hunt?" Gwen asked.

"Fine." I pulled out the two Stilettos, "Though one had a gun, which is weird."

"A gun?" Her brow rimpled.

I nodded, "A Glock. They must really be getting scared of us."

Just then the door opened.

Gwen and Mark looked to see, I didn't; already knowing who was walking through the door. They followed my tail lights all the way here.

I just kept on cleaning my knives.

"Hey Sam. Dean." Mark's voice was obviously juiced for possible upcoming drama.

Sam's voice didn't sound, I knew he acknowledged them with a nod.

"Gwen and Mark right?"

"Hi." Gwen's response was terse. I had told her all about it, even the stuff about Sam and I. She and I grew close over the last few months.

There was a pause.

"Jo."

I turned at Dean's greeting, offering a light smile.

"Dean."

Mark 'ooh'-ed.

Gwen and I shot him a glare.

"I picked this up."

Turning back, he was handing me my third, dirty Stiletto.

"Thanks." I took it.

"Is Samuel upstairs?" Sam interjected.

"Sure is. I'll go with ya." Mark thrust off his chair and joined the younger brother with much too wide of a smile, leaving my knife on his table place.

As the two went to debrief chief Campbell, Gwen awkwardly got up from the table, packing her guns into a neat rows and folding them into a bag.

At my pleading look she responded, "I'm going to practice with Johnny."

Damn it.

Just me and Dean now.

The door shut after her exit loudly.

"So..." Dean shuffled forward and took Mark's old seat directly across from me.

My heart started to pound again.

Why the fuck do I still have that jolt for him after what he did to me?

Because I missed him.

I continued to clean the knife he returned to me, "So..."

"How have you been?"

"Good, you know," my voice was too high on the range; nerves, "Just hunting a lot."

"Yeah, I noticed." he chuckled.

I looked at him questioningly.

"Just seeing you there...hunting, from where you started out...it's a trip."

"You'll get used to it, once you warm up some." I grinned back.

It was returning already; the easy to talk to thing between us.

He shrugged, "So you and Sam teamed up?"

I nodded, gulping my secret with Sam down and putting the Stiletto away, "Yeah, for about seven months there. Then we found the Campbells and -" I waved my hand around to gesture at the room, "You know the rest."

"Everyone knew he was alive but me." He shook his head, a frustrated puff let out his nostrils.

"Well I definitely wasn't going to call and tell you."

His face visibly grimaced at my comment.

There was a moment before he spoke again, "Jo, I just want to say-"

"Dean." I interrupted him, "It's fine. You really don't have to say anything."

"Just the way I left things, I know it wasn't right and I know you're probably not too happy with me. And I gotta admit, having a Harvelle woman angry with me, after what I saw you can do is...a bit frightening."

He chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.

I let a small smile through.

"I just want to clear the air here."

I took a breath. I guess this talk was overdue.

"Look, Dean, you're right; I'm not happy with how it ended between us, but I understand why it did. You wanted a life away from Hunting. Being with me wouldn't be a complete escape from that, together we would constantly be reminded of where we came from, what we did before a normal life. And you with Lisa...I see how it's like a complete different world than what you've had before. I understand that now. I put too much stock in the time we spent together, I know you never really saw me as someone you wanted to be with. I guess you only really thought of me as in the family...and someone who was into you enough to bang-"

"It wasn't-"

"It was. And it's okay, Dean. I've learned from it. Growing from experience and things like that. Just, next time, when someone asks you a serious question like that, say what you really mean to say, don't just give a vague yes because you think it will make them happy for the time being."

"I didn't mean for that - I'm...I'm sorry, Jo."

"I know, and I forgive you. I've changed Dean, and I can relate to what your situation must have been like."

"Nah, you haven't."

"What?"

"Changed. You're the same Jo, just..."

"Better?" I grinned.

"More yourself now I guess. I dunno. I don't know what I'm saying."

"I think I understand."

"Jo, I just - I want us to be friends again. I don't want you to be angry with me." He stated, returning to the original discussion.

"We'll always be friends you jerk. And it's been a year, I got over your decision a long time ago, Dean. I'm not angry with you anymore."

There was another pause, and we met irises.

"We're good then?"

I nodded, and smiled, happy to get that out of the way, "Nothing in this air."

He nodded, "I missed you...all of you."

Another smile of sentiment pulled my corner mouth up, "Us too."

There was another pause, the air between us calm and comfortable, like how it used to feel.

He angled his body to put his socked feet up on my lap from under the table.

"So, what is up with Sam lately?"

Note: I constructed this chapter off of this quote:

"The character (Jo) was originally conceived as a love interest for Dean, but even the writers admitted that Jo came off more like a little-sister character. "In hindsight, Dean wouldn't be attracted to that character...He'd be attracted to someone who walked in the door, slaughtered everybody and walked out, and then he would say, "Who's that?""(Eric Kripke, S2Com).

Here I'm starting to build that uncertainty within Dean that he made the right choice. Jo has grown into her own, and now a tied-down Dean starts to feel more attracted to her newer personality aspect but is stuck between emotions for Lisa and a normal life, and Jo and his former/future life.