Dean really wished he could shut his eyes on that one. Not see it, not feel it. It made him sure he'd made the right choice with Lisa, definitely. But knowing that didn't make it easier to stomach Jo falling apart. And she had. He didn't blame her.
Then it was back to the Roadhouse, several nice moments with Ellen. Flashes of Ash, here and there.
And there was him. And Sam. Dean knew she'd had a crush, but he didn't really ever realize how deep this all went. It was... God, it was from the beginning.
Oh God, please let that be a rifle.
He sounded like a jackass. Fifty one hours to waste? His skin crawled hearing that again. But she'd liked him anyway. From the start. Enough to disobey Ellen, enough to go on a hunt with him and with Sam... all of that was there, too. Broad strokes. A talk at the table of that haunted apartment about her dad's knife. And then her yelling at him, this sinking feeling in her chest--his chest, now--as she said the words. John was why her dad was dead.
Sam. Well, it was Meg. But Sam. She was so afraid. He hated watching this. HATED. He wanted to kill Meg--again--already. And they weren't even to the really painful part. My daddy shot your daddy in the head, she taunted.
Dean thought it was possible he was gonna throw up. His veins felt like ice. Was that how she'd felt? Jesus. He saw himself again, felt the bullet Sam'd put in him all over again, and remembered Jo taking it out. Patching him up. He'd walked away. "I'll call you," he said.
He'd never heard what she said in response. And hearing it now made him feel like a jackass: "No, you won't."
There was hunting, then. A lot of it. With and without Ellen. Jo had wanted the life, and she went after it. She knew Ellen was there to keep an eye on her--most of the time. But it worked, the way he and Sam worked. Deep down, both of them were happy with it. He could feel that, too.
The Horseman War. That had been a good time. Yelling at Ellen, calling her a "black eyed bitch." Thinking Sam was possessed, and forcing salt down his throat. He had to hand it to Jo-- she was a determined little thing.
Then they were at Bobby's. Drinking. He was talking about shooting the Devil. Castiel said that they'd die tomorrow. And he tried a line on Jo that had worked for centuries on a million women, delivered by a million men. But right now, he knew Jo considered it. The words that came out of her mouth, about wanting her self-respect, he knew she'd meant them, sure. But he could feel it. If she'd known how the next day was really gonna go...
Then there was Meg. Again. The street, Carthage. Dean's mouth opened. He actually prayed, silently, to Cas, for the first time in a long time.