Jo spits out a glob of blood, and then rights herself. The demon she and her mom had been hunting is sprawled in the center of the devil's trap. The bitch seems unconscious, but Jo isn't taking any chances. As she bends to get another of the buckets of holy water they'd prepared and hidden behind an old wardrobe, a groan from the other room lets her know her mom's at least alive. Good. They've got work to do.

"Ugh… you hit like a girl," the demon mutters, voice a nearly inaudible slur, and Jo barely catches the words.

"Shut up!" Jo punctuates her order with a whole bucket full of holy water to the demon's face.

Her mother limps into the room once the screams have died down. She doesn't look half bad, all things considered, even though there's a bruise already blooming across her face. Jo's certain that they'll both be feeling this fight over the next few days. At least nothing's broken.

They're in an old, abandoned farmhouse in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere. So nobody is going to see or hear what comes next. Which is good, because Jo intends to make this demon regret everything, from its human life to the day it decided to crawl out of Hell.

God, she hates demons. Any kind of supernatural being, Jo can deal with. But demons are a whole different ball game, and she fucking hates them.

"Ready to send this bitch back to where it came from?" her mother asks.

"Yep," Jo says, squaring her shoulders, "let's get this over with."

The first thing she'll do when this is dealt with, is take a nice, hot shower. After her mom, of course. And then, she'll sleep. There's a bed in her motel room calling her name. Jo can't wait.

The demon starts laughing, but chokes when her mom begins reciting the exorcism. It twists and its back arches off the floor. Jo can't help but flinch when the thing wearing the skin of a middle aged teacher lets out an ear-splitting scream. She has to remind herself that the possessed woman will, hopefully, be alright. It's only the demon that's in pain.

Halfway through, the hysterical laughter resumes. The thrashing becomes worse for a few seconds, and even her mom looks worried that this'll be fatal for the victim.

"I'll crawl back out someday!" the demon screams. "And I'll find you two." Another scream. "I'll make you pay!"

"Sure you will," Jo mumbles, not caring if that thing can hear her.

"But before that," it goes on, "I'm gonna find your friend Dean down there and work him over a bit."

For some reason, that stops her mom in her tracks. Jo frowns. That doesn't make any sense. She chances a look at her mother and the expression on her face makes Jo's blood run cold. Something is very, very wrong here.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" It takes a monumental effort on Jo's part to keep her voice steady. "What's this got to do with Dean?"

When the demon only cackles in response, Jo gets another bucket of water and throws it in its face. She waits for the effect to die down, before she speaks again.

"Answer me, you bitch!"

Jo tries to keep a lid on her emotions, but she doesn't like where this is going. Her mom looks horrified. That means she has at least an inkling of what the demon is alluding to. And Jo hates the implications of that. Of her mother knowing something and not telling her about it, like she'd done with the information of her dad's death.

"You really don't know, do you?" the demon asks. It moves about a bit, then sits up, bending its meat suit's knees and settling its elbows on them. "Well, your momma does. You, on the other hand, have no clue."

Its head tilts to the side, a disturbing smile settling on its face as it laughs again. Jo feels like there are claws squeezing her stomach and heart. Her lungs feel like they're shrinking. This is so much worse than she'd thought.

"Your buddy Dean," the demon continues, "sold his soul for brother dearest. Now, he's down in the Pit, getting acquainted with our master torturer. Last I saw him, he was strapped to a rack, having his eyeballs gouged out. Among other things."

"You're lying!" Jo says. She injects as much venom into her words as she can, but she can't stop her pulse from racing faster. "That's the one thing you guys are remotely good at."

"I'm telling you nothing but the truth, sugarplum." The demon grins, a bloody, maniacal distortion in its borrowed face, showing bloodstained teeth. "He was ripped to shreds by hellhounds and his soul got a one-way ticket to Hell. It happened only a couple of weeks ago."

"Demon deals are made for ten year periods," Jo says. Her fingers are numb from the way she's clenching her fists. "There's no way he…"

"This deal was different." The unhinged grin is back. "He only got one year."

"Jo, honey…" her mother's voice is soft.

"Let's send this bitch where it belongs," Jo cuts her off.

She resumes chanting the exorcism from where her mom left off. The demon starts shaking again. Long, agonizing spasms that Jo is sure will hurt the woman it's possessing, if not outright kill her. But there's no other way. Although, Jo believes that death might be a far better fate than being a meat puppet with no control over their own body. No escape. She shudders, too, but doesn't stop chanting.

"When I get… down there," the demon says, voice now unnaturally distorted, "I'll find Dean… and I'll… I'll see if… I can join… join in on the fun." It coughs a few times and black smoke seeps out of its nostrils. "Time there feels… different. At least in s—some places. So I'm gonna h—have a lot of fun. One month top-side… is stretched out to ten years in Hell. You do... the math."

The demon wheezes in a breath, then continues talking.

"First, I'll tell him you said hi. And then I'm gonna… sh—shove hot needles under his nails… and into his eyes. And I'm g—gonna peel his skin off—" another cough, a bit more smoke, "into thin strips. Until there's none left covering his body. And—"

Jo finishes the incantation and watches the demon struggle to hold onto its meat suit. Its eyes are black and equally black smoke is pouring slowly out of its mouth, nose and ears. It'll take a while longer.

Jo almost wishes she'd gone for the regular exorcism. That would have expelled the demon from its host straight away. The one she'd used, though, is longer. Her family has been using it—a combination of several rituals in one—for a couple of centuries. It's harder to perform, but it sends the demon so deep into Hell, it has a hard time finding its way back out.

"And when I'm… done… with that..." the demon finally finds its voice again—Jo wishes it hadn't— and sneers, spittle flying everywhere as it fights for air. "Then I'll slice… him open… and strangle him… with his own... guts!"

With the last word uttered, all the smoke is out of its victim. It circles its former host a few times, trying to escape. Then it gets pulled into a funnel-like structure, down through the floor. Jo hopes it will need centuries, at the very least, to crawl back out.

"How long…" Jo's throat closes up, but she clears it and tries again. "How long have you known?"

"A while," her mother says. She sounds small. "But I didn't know it'd be so soon. Like you, I thought he'd gotten ten years."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Jo knows part of the answer to that question. She knows her mother had been trying to protect her, like she'd done many times before. But she can't help but give in to the anger that courses through her at that. It's red-hot and blinding, and she hates that she feels this way. Over Dean, of all people.

"Because I didn't want you to end up like your father," her mother says, voice stronger now. "As much as I love those boys, danger seems to be drawn to them like a damn moth to the flame. I've seen what came for them at that Devil's Gate. And I didn't want you to be caught in the crossfire."

"But that wasn't your decision to make, mom!" Jo is seething now. "I'm a God damn adult! It should've been up to me if I get involved or not!"

"And could you have not?" Her mother is shouting back now, looking just as pissed as Jo feels. "Could you have stayed away, knowing what's about to come?"

It's like a slap to the face. Jo is aware of the implications behind those words. Would you have been able to let him die? That's what it translates to. And isn't that the million dollar question? Coincidentally, it's one she doesn't have an answer to.

"What's it matter now?" Jo's voice breaks and she gets the sudden urge to throw something at the wall. "It's too late anyway."

"I'm sure you would have gone and thrown yourself into the fray, and I couldn't survive anything happening to you, Jo. Not you too."

"I'm done talking about this." Jo's tone makes it clear that the discussion is over. "Let's get this woman to a hospital."

Jo then turns her back to her mother and squats by the unconscious teacher. The woman is, thankfully, alive. Her vitals are just a bit weaker than normal, but steady. A quick physical examination—as much as Jo can perform at the moment—gives no indication of any broken bones.

Her mother gets the memo. Between the two of them, they get the woman to the truck, then into the back seat. Jo, not feeling like being close to her mother at the moment, sits in the back too. The better to keep an eye on their victim.

Once the car starts moving, she tries calling Dean's phone. Well, the number she does know. She tries Sam's several numbers. And gets nothing. A big, steaming pile of nada. Dean's phone is disconnected. So is Sam's main one. And the backup. The third rings until it goes to voicemail every time. Jo resists the urge to throw her phone out the window. Barely.

The truck takes a left turn, then veers right into a rest stop. Jo opens her mouth to ask what the hold up is, but shuts it when she hears a groan to her left. Their patient is waking up and she hadn't even noticed. Jo shoves the phone back into her pocket with trembling fingers and focuses on explaining the mechanics of possession to a total stranger.

A stranger who, luckily, remembers some of what the demon used her body for. Which, in a way, is good. They don't have to deal with a freaked out woman who has no clue what'd happened to her. For said woman, though, this is nightmare fodder. Which sucks ass.

Jo helps Melissa—her name's Melissa—clean up a bit. They concoct a story to sell to the authorities and ER staff. Wash off any evidence that could lead back to Jo and Ellen Harvelle, which Melissa is all too keen to do. She doesn't want them getting into trouble, she says.

They drop her off at the first ER in their way and give their statements to the cop who shows up. The guy is all too willing to believe the BS the two pretty and helpless women spin. It's easy to con him. He only sees the mother and daughter duo as innocent ladies, who'd given another a ride to the hospital. And, once the whole process is over, the two of them get back in their truck and drive off.

The rest of the way to the motel, Jo tries calling Sam again. There's still no answer, only voicemail. So she eventually leaves a message asking him to call her back and, if the rumors are true about Dean, that she's sorry for his loss.

She lets her mom take the shower first, like she'd planned, then takes advantage of the solitude. She goes outside and calls Bobby. He's the only one Jo can think of who might be—even remotely—in the know.

"Hello?" The gruff answer comes quickly, just after the second ring.

"Hi, Bobby," Jo says, fighting to keep her voice even. "It's Jo. Jo Harvelle."

"Oh, hey kiddo. What's up?" He pauses for a second. "Everything alright on your end?"

"Yeah, we're fine." She runs a hand over her face. Wipes her eyes. "Me and mom just finished up a case. Demon. We exorcised it."

"Good. I'm glad you're okay." There's a bit of shuffling and a quiet, muttered curse. "Those things are a piece of work."

"Tell me about it," Jo says, laughing wetly. "This one dropped quite the bomb on us. It said that - " God, why is she choking up now? She clears her throat. "It told us that Dean was dead. And that he was in… in Hell, because he'd made a deal. For Sam."

Bobby is quiet for a few long moments. Jo almost thinks he's hung up, but when she checks, the call is still ongoing. Oh God, it's true…

"Shit, kid, I'd hoped your mom would've told you by now."

"She didn't." Jo's voice is steadier now, but there are tears running freely down her cheeks. She lets them. "She said she didn't know the deal would be up so soon. And that she didn't want me involved."

"Well, she was telling you the truth," Bobby says, voice sounding rough. "She didn't know he'd only gotten one year, 'cause I didn't tell her that tidbit."

"Why?"

"Because Sam and I thought we could get the idjit out of it." He sighs. "And we tried. God, Jo, we tried everything we could think of."

"I would've helped." Jo wipes her nose on her sleeve. "If I'd known…"

"I'm sure you would've, Jo. But Ellen was right to keep you out of it. 'Cause it got real messy real fast."

"Bobby, I'll remind you that I'm an adult," she says, as every ounce of her patience is tested by this same old song and dance. "I can handle myself in a fight. I'm a hunter, just like you guys."

"I know, I'm sorry." He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a whoosh. "It's just… Ellen worries about you, same as I do about those boys. And she loved them dearly too. Maybe if she'd known how short the time was, she'd have told you. I dunno."

Jo knows he's right, in a way. Her mom cares about the Winchesters quite a lot, John's mistake notwithstanding. Because that's what it was, a mistake the older hunter had never forgiven himself for. Jo understands that now. She no longer blames any of them for what happened, especially not Sam and Dean. They hadn't even been involved. Hadn't even known.

"Yeah, Bobby, I know mom means well. But she has to understand that I can make my own decisions. And… and I'd at least liked to talk to him one more time, before he..." Jo closes her eyes and hugs herself with her free arm. "To clear the air, y'know. We didn't part on the best of terms."

"I get that, I really do."

"But I need some time to think," she says, before Bobby can continue. "I need some space. Can I… can I come over? To your place?"

"Sure thing." He seems to be taken by surprize. "You know my door is always open for you, kiddo."

"Thanks, Bobby." Jo wipes her face and pulls herself together, as much as she can. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, I'll be here."

They trade goodbyes. Jo stays outside for a while longer, her silent tears still streaming down her face. She doesn't know why she's reacting like this. Sure, she'd liked Dean, they'd even been kinda friends. She'd even had a crush on him, at first, which she'd tried to fight so hard.

But that hunt in Philadelphia had changed everything. Jo had begun to see him in a different light. A sort of kindred spirit. Only for that to be shattered by the revelation that John had caused her dad's death. She doesn't know why she'd blamed Dean for that, when he hadn't even been aware of those events. It seems stupid now, but in the moment, it'd been her reaction.

And she'd hated herself for it soon after. Both for that and for the fact that she couldn't seem to be able to stop thinking about him. The incident in Duluth had helped, somewhat. Maybe that demon lied, maybe not. Now, she'll never know how Dean truly felt about her.

Jo shakes herself out of those thoughts. It's too late to dwell on what Dean freaking Winchester thought of her. And it shouldn't matter. It won't change the way she feels about him, he'll always have a place in her heart.

Going back inside, Jo goes through the motions. Gets her stuff ready for tomorrow, showers and goes to bed.

As she does all this, she gives her mother the silent treatment. And for once, her mother shuts up about it. Something Jo finds surprizing, because every time they fought, it was always a non stop screaming match. Now, her mom sits at the table, sipping from a bottle of whiskey and staring at the wall. There are tears running down her face too, but Jo lets her process this in her own way.

She turns around to face the other side. She screws her eyes shut and hugs herself again. And cries silently into the pillow until she falls asleep.

Jo leaves early the next morning. She writes her mother a note, telling her she needs some space and time to cool down. To figure things out. She hopes her mom will understand and won't freak out, because Jo doesn't think she can deal with that right now.

So she finds a used car dealer and buys the cheapest pile of scrap that looks like it'll survive the drive to Sioux Falls. Bobby can take it apart for spares when she's done with it. Or whatever. She doesn't really care, as long as it takes her where she wants to go. The damned thing, as old as it is, is in pretty decent condition, though. Runs smoothly.

To Jo's surprize, her mom doesn't call her. Not to ask where she's going or to yell at her for leaving without a word. Which is quite an improvement. Although Jo hopes that her mom isn't pissed at that, and giving her the silent treatment in return. It would be counterproductive and would even make things worse in the long run.

She drives on, trying not to think about what the demon said. Tries not to think about Dean, stuck in a place where time flows differently, with those bastards able to make his torment feel like years, instead of weeks. He's only been gone a fortnight. That bitch had said that a month equals ten years. So that means that—for Dean—it's already been five. She shudders as she tries not to imagine what exactly they're putting him through.

Jo hits the brakes when her vision blurs. The car comes to an abrupt halt and she leans her head on the steering wheel, pulls in a few gasping breaths to calm down. She can't fall apart now, she thinks. Needs to hold it together until she reaches Bobby's place at least. So, with another fortifying inhale, she straightens her back. Wipes her face.

Jo's about to restart the car—as the engine had died—when she realizes where she'd stopped. It's smack dab in the middle of a crossroads. Two backwoods roads intersecting in the middle of nowhere. Overgrown bushes on each side. Yarrow flowers, too.

"What the fuck?" Jo mutters.

She turns the key in the ignition, but the engine only sputters. Won't start. She does it again. Nothing. Jo reaches for the shotgun in her duffel, the one with the salt rounds, and grabs the holy water from next to the gear shift. It feels like the hairs on the back of her neck are standing on end. But nothing happens.

A warm wind blows through the open window and makes goosebumps appear on Jo's sweaty skin. She just can't shake the feeling that something is off. Did she really stop in the middle of a crossroads coincidentally? Or did something want her to?

She looks around, but the area appears deserted. It doesn't seem like there's anything out of the ordinary, just a normal place where two unassuming roads cross. It's simply a coincidence. It has to be, because she definitely hadn't been planning to sell her soul. Not to get Dean back, or to get another chance to see him. She knows he wouldn't want that.

Jo catches a glimpse of what seems to be a woman in black from the corner of her eye, on the left hand side. She drops the flask and clutches the gun tighter to her chest. But when she turns her head in that direction completely, there's nothing there. Jo runs a hand over her face and takes another deep breath.

Picking the flask of holy water back up, Jo gets out of the car. Her shotgun's cocked and ready. If any demonic assholes plan to jump her, she's got a backup gun in her jacket pocket, filled with iron rounds dipped in holy water. As well as her dad's iron knife in her boot. No way a demon gets the drop on her again.

As far as she can tell when she pops the hood and takes a look at the engine, there's nothing wrong with it. So she snaps it back shut. And comes face to face with a very pretty, brunette woman wearing a black dress. Jo immediately points the shotgun in the demon's face.

"The fuck do you want?" she asks, voice more of a growl than anything else.

"Oh, it's not about what I want, sugar," the demon says, words flowing sweetly. It reveals red eyes. "It's more about what you want."

"Well, whatever offer you've cooked up, you can shove it right up your ass!"

"Honey, there's no need to be rude." The bitch looks and sounds downright hurt, and Jo wants to punch it. "I can make your wildest dreams come true."

"You know damn well I'm not gonna fall for your tricks," Jo says. "So you might as well crawl back to the pit your slimy ass came out of."

"Aren't you even curious about what Dean's going through?"

Jo feels bile rise in her throat at the mere mention. No, she doesn't even want to imagine it. And she sure as hell doesn't want to be given a play-by-play.

"Go back to Hell, before I shoot you! I'm not interested in buying what you wanna sell."

She's only slightly tempted to give in. But she knows it's the wrong thing to do. Dean didn't want her hunting in the first place, and he wouldn't want her to sell her soul for him.

"I could offer you a better deal than most," the demon says, "but… if you don't want it…"

"Like I said," Jo spits out, getting annoyed by its insistence, "shove it where the sun don't shine." She unscrews the cap on her flask.

"I'll give Dean your greetings. I hear that he thinks of either his brother, or of you, when he's most desperate for the pain to stop." It grins, smug. "Bye, sugar."

In the blink of an eye, the demon is gone. Jo's left alone, by the side of her car. God, had she been any weaker, she would have given in. And it fucking hurts to think about how much she'd wanted to. She hopes Dean would be proud of her, if he could see her.

Jo gets in, this time successfully starting up her vehicle. It's a hunk of junk, but there's nothing wrong with it. The damn thing is functional. It was all a ploy by the demon to tempt her into making a deal. Why, though? Why had some random ass crossroads demon wanted her to make a deal for Dean Winchester? Especially since she hadn't even summoned it.

It makes Jo's blood run cold, the thought that a demon not only found her, but also knew what she would have wanted. Who she would have wanted. How had it known that?

And the other one, too. The one she and her mom had exorcised the day before, it'd known about her connection to Dean. Or maybe it just knew that the Harvelles and the Winchesters were friends, and had decided to deliver a low blow.

She'd never heard of crossroads demons actively seeking out people to make deals with. Jo'd always thought they needed to be summoned. It's one of the things she'll have to ask Bobby about, when she gets to his place.

Or maybe it was telling the truth and Dean really does think about you when he's in pain down there, a treacherous voice pipes up in the back of her mind.

To drive these thoughts away, Jo turns on the music. The radio sounds kind of tinny, but she finds a heavy metal station she likes. They even play one of her favorite songs.

By the time she crosses into South Dakota, she's considerably calmer. Her hands are still shaking and a tear slips down her face every now and then. Yet she no longer feels like she wants to drive her car off a cliff. Or like she's gonna throw up.

"Fucking demons!" Jo mutters to herself.

God, she fucking hates the things even more now. It almost makes her want to stop hunting them altogether. To only go after monsters and ghosts—even poltergeists, as nasty as those are. Then again, this gives her more of a reason to continue sending the sons of bitches back to Hell as many times as she can. Let them fight to crawl out, only to be smacked down again.

So Jo makes herself a promise that, no matter what these things hurl at her, she'll never stop fighting them. She'd started hunting to honor her father. Continued for the same reason, for her dad and to save people. Her main motivation. And she'd wanted to prove to herself—and to Dean, to spite him—that she could do it. From now on, she'll keep fighting the evil bastards for all those reasons and to honor Dean's memory.

Twenty miles outside Sioux Falls, Jo says a prayer to whomever might be listening to deliver Dean's soul from perdition. Because no matter how conflicted her feelings for him are, she still cares deeply. And she doesn't want him to suffer for eternity.