(Untitled)
Later. After Happy Hour ended.
Jo brings a bottle and a set of shot glasses.
They get placed on the edge of the table first.
Dead pan, but wanting.
"She's gone back home now."
Jo brings a bottle and a set of shot glasses.
They get placed on the edge of the table first.
Dead pan, but wanting.
"She's gone back home now."
He's trying like hell not to sound tired.
It almost works.
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So much so the idea it might never happen again made it louder.
(She'd always known somewhere, somehow, she could go back.
Back to her mom. To the job. To the bar. To the hunters waiting.
If she decided she needed to. Or wanted to.
Hadn't she?)
Jo dropped into a seat, taking a glass.
She never would have. How did that make it worse?
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He pours generously.
And then he downs the shot.
He's ready for his close-up, Miss Harvelle.
Or somethin' like that, anyway.
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Filled her second, still staring at him.
But didn't drink it, only held it.
"You're positive."
Another should-be-isn't-a-question.
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He's dead serious.
He's also tilting his head back to down another shot.
"She's about as good as anyone's gonna be, after all that."
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He's serious.
Her hand doesn't shake.
There's an urge in her.
Not quite to shake.
To do something.
She doesn't know what.
She reaches for the bottle.
A million question pale to one.
The one that domino's the others.
"Do you know where she is now?"
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Does Dean know?
"She hasn't called you? I mean -- "
Great.
"Me and Sam kinda -- "
Even better, except not.
"You try calling Bobby?"
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"I left a few messages but nothing. So I though--"
Well. Uh. That part was obvious. Obviously.
Why else would she be doing shots.
With Dean Winchester in 'Ways.
"And that bitch--"
You know the one she's in over her head with.
(Because before Dean told her about her mom?
There was that thing about her dad.)
"--was a less than kind with her insinuations about Ash. And my Mom. When pointing the way to my house."
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Who the hell could Jo be talking about?
It's not like there's a metric fuckton of people Dean knows from home in Milliways anyway, and there aren't a lot of others who --
"Jo. What bitch?"
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Jo's staring at the glass.
"Brunette. Little black dress."
Because she should be listening to herself.
"Hell demon who decided my house-fire was her playtime."
Because her words are the words she should be saying.
The ones she should be listening to.
Not considering doing business with.
"She's the one who told me about the Road House."
Cause getting that news from a demon? Great job, Milliways.
"While I was here, and then I went home..." He gets the rest, right?
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"Shit."
Understatement.
Dean pours and downs another shot.
Then he moves to offer Jo a top-up for hers.
It's that kind of day.
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A familiar, sort of normal pain and comfort.
To put something in the place in her center.
Where she'd been carrying her mom being dead. (Too.)
She doesn't need pity. But she'll take shots.
"D' she tell you what happened? Or Bobby? I've--"
Off the radar. Out of dodge. On a different cell.
"Well, you probably already know if you've seen her."
She can't think of her mom being too kindly on the subject.
They were both plenty loud at the time is was happening.
It just doesn't matter at all anymore. Not now.
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Some things a guy doesn't want to ask.
And Ellen's one hell of a scary woman.
"But there was a lot of other shit that had to get taken care of first. And then -- "
He doesn't scowl, just downs another shot.
"Then there was even more shit."
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She won't like it. "That was my home."
"Those people were --"
Were beyond her family. They told her the stories.
They trained her when she couldn't leave the premises.
She etched her name in that bar as a child.
Every single day of growing up until she had to get out.
And it's a pile of ashes. Her fist is tight around her glass.
A pile of ashes she didn't look back at when she left.
When she could have. And it might be the only reason she's alive.
And maybe she should have brought another bottle or two with her.
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The words are flippant but his tone ain't.
It couldn't be.
"Nobody else got out, and who the hell knows what really did it."
Dean can guess, but --
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That is was easy; and that is was random.
It would have happened decades ago.
But he really might not know anything.
And her mom...her mom was getting pretzels.
And it falls out without meaning to,
"Wonder how Ash got out of being her errand monkey."
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