Resurrection's a bitch (Dean)
Jo's lungs ached. The air was harsh against her dry throat. And yet, she was breathing. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.
She sat up quickly, looking down at her clothes, which were not soaked in blood as she'd remembered them being. Her hands fumbled for the wound that should have been there. As she touched her stomach and lifted up her shirt slightly, she saw no hint of the blood, or the gigantic hole where the hell hounds had taken a bite out of her.
In some ways, it seemed like merely minutes ago that she'd been in pain and sure she was going to die. That she'd rested her head on her mother's shoulder, taking comfort in the fact that her mom was there at the end. In others, it all seemed like a very strange, distant dream. A dream that had been followed by parts of her life flashing before her eyes-all of the happy memories parading before her one by one.
Where was she?
Jo's eyes slowly traveled upwards from her dirty skin and clothes to the room she was in. Her brain very slowly began to process her surroundings, putting the pieces together. It looked like a motel room. A slightly seedy, definitely cheap... motel room. Her throat still burned as though she'd been wandering a desert for... god, forever, it felt like. A bottle of water sat on the nightstand. Jo didn't stop to think that it might have been odd, but instead reached for it.
Once she'd taken down the entire water bottle, she slowly stood. Her stomach felt emptier than it had ever been. She was surprised to find a bag of beef jerky on the nightstand right next to the water bottle. Without question, she took down half the bag.
Once her basic needs were taken care of, Jo's brain started to speed up. There were far more questions and not nearly enough answers. She searched the room first, as if there would be some clue to where she was and more importantly, why and how. Motel stationary revealed that she was in York, Pennsylvania.
York? Something niggled at her brain. Maybe some urban legend she'd heard at some point during her time at the Roadhouse. There were always hunters swapping stories and rumors. But for the life of her, she couldn't remember the significance of York.
It was time to get out of the motel room. She'd found all the answers she could in there. Or not found the answers to the most important questions anyway.
Jo fumbled with the doorknob for just a moment, her hands still feeling odd, as though she hadn't used them in years. Or possibly just as if her brain hadn't forgotten how to use them.
She opened the door and stepped outside, turning around to look at the motel building, as if that might somehow clear things up.