Jo loved Nebraska in the spring. Everything was growing, it was warm, and it always smelled like grass. She especially loved it when it rained. When she was little, her dad would stay home from hunts on rainy days just so he could spend them with her. They'd play games or watch a movie. And her mom always closed the Roadhouse and made them all soup and sandwiches. Jo loved the sound it made on the roof of the Roadhouse. She could hear it now. It was soft and calming. But it was fading away...
Jo opened her eyes. Her head was pounding. She groaned. All she could see was white. She was in a padded room. When she tried to sit up, she couldn't because her wrists were strapped to the bedframe. She freaked out and started squirming. But the more she moved, the more it hurt.
"Honey, don't do that."
Jo turned her head to see who was talking. She gasped. Her father was standing at the foot of the bed.
"Dad? Am I-am I dead?"
"No," Bill smiled. "You're still kickin'. But just barely." He sat down on the side of her bed. "Why don't you tell me what's going on?"
The wall that Jo had built up in her head began to crack. She lost it. The tears fell fast and freely while she talked about the apocalypse, her mother, hunting, and Dean. Bill just sat and listened, occasionally nodding. He told Jo to shut her eyes, so she did. When she opened them, her father was gone. Instead, Dean sat where her father had been. She gasped.
"Wow Jo. Got yourself strapped down in the looney bin? Doesn't really sound like you."
Silence.
"Oh, come on. Say something. I didn't come all this way just to leave you speechless."
She hiccuped.
He laughed. "You know you really are a mess. I mean, look at you." He gestured to her. "Your eyes are red, and you got snot and tears coming outta everywhere. You do fit in, now that I think about it." She drew in a ragged breath. "No."
"No? No? Come on, Jo. You're hunting a monster. A monster. Who does that?"
"You did."
"No, I didn't." Dean got up and walked over closer to her head. He jerked it over to face the other side of the room. "He did."
He pointed over at a slumped figure sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. She screamed. It was Dean. His breaths were shallow and uneven, just like the night at Carthage. Jo slammed her eyes shut.
"No, no, no, no NO NO NO!" She screamed.
She heard a broken voice enter her thoughts. "J-Jo?" Her eyes flew open and she turned and looked at Carthage Dean. The other Dean moved out of the corner of her eye. "Dean?"
"She speaks!" The other Dean laughed. Jo ignored him.
"What is it Dean?"
He moved his hand away from the wound in his side. Blood started pouring out of it. He lifted his eyes to hers and asked, "Was it worth it? D-did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Did you kill the Devil? T-ell me I didn't d-die for nothing." She turned her head away.
"No," she sobbed. "I shot him, but he can't be killed." Fresh tears came to her eyes as she saw all the hope fall from Carthage Dean's face. "Dean! I'm so sorry! I'm so so sorry..." The other Dean, Asshole Dean, laughed again. "Well, that's it then. Adios world!" He leaned against the wall and kicked Carthage Dean, who groaned in pain.
"You don't touch him!" She screamed. Another Dean walked through the door. He sat down on the floor next to the head of Jo's bed and said nothing.
Carthage Dean looked back up at Jo. He said, "Jo, this is all your fault."
The new Dean spoke up. "No it isn't."
"Yeah, I think it is," said Asshole Dean. Because guess who had the Colt? You."
New Dean spoke softly. "Don't listen to them. It wasn't your fault."
"Yes it is," said Carthage Dean. "She's the one who came up with the idea for the bomb."
"She had no other choice!" new Dean shouted at Carthage Dean. "It was the best thing she could come up with." As he was saying this, another Dean appeared. And another. Until finally there were so many she had to shut her eyes and could only shut out their voices with her own screaming.