Under a blood red sky

Things were sort of back to normal for Jo. At least as normal as they might ever be. If one counted having to wear an amulet to keep demons out of your head, having a screwed-up and confusing relationship with your boyfriend, having now met two daughters from your future, one of whom was missing as normal, then sure, things were just fine and dandy.

Jo needed the distraction. And she was starting to think that she needed to get her own place too. At the very least, she needed to do something so that if she and Dean were staying together, it was a choice that they both made instead of him feeling obligated to care for her.

Which was why she'd gone to beg for her old job back. She had apologized profusely and promised to work all of the crappy shifts and was now wearing an apron and waiting for customers. Unfortunately, Tuesday nights were usually dead as a doornail. So she put a song on the jukebox and then started to clean the bar countertop yet again.

She sang softly under her breath along with the words to 'American Pie' as she worked.

It had been a few days since Jo had lost control of her mind again. Those in the driver's seat had used her body to spirit several people away. It was easy to use her trustworthy face to escort potential victims to their doom.

Everything was in place now for the ritual to open the gate. There was just one key component needed. The other sacrifice.

The blood of one ripped out of Heaven by demons and one rescued from Hell by angels would serve as perfect counterbalances to each other and would rip that gate wide open, unleashing Hell on the town of York and the world.

The cell phone that had been turned off for the last few days was now turned on. Jo's fingers dialed the number that would get exactly what they needed and waited for an answer.

Since being brought back to life in York, Jo had hunted all manner of creatures. There had been a lot of things that went bump in the night to keep her busy.

With all that said, in Jo's experience it was always the humans gone nuts that were the scariest. For one, they were never rational. Monsters behaved in set patterns. In specific ways. There were humans that would do things so depraved that were beyond imagination. And worse than the unpredictability, humans were supposed to be better than that.

Which was why she was caught as offguard as the cashier behind the counter when the Bonnie and Clyde wannabes that had entered the all-night grocery store pulled out their guns and started threatening people to get the cashier to empty the drawers.

Jo had done her best to stay out of sight and had tried to sneak up on the pair in an attempt to help out to make sure no one got hurt. Instead, she'd been spotted and shot. She was able to duck out of the way so that the bullet struck her upper arm instead of her heart, but all the same she was not in any shape to do anything else as she kept her head low and tried to rush through the aisles, her hand clamped over the gushing bullet hole.

The couple was now a little more frantic as the woman kept her gun trained on the cashier, barking orders and the man started to chase after Jo. Jo's mind raced, trying to find a way to get out of the situation and make sure no one else got hurt, but she was coming up blank at the moment.

Sometimes being a hunter was a thankless job.

Who was she kidding? Most days, really.

But some days were worse than others. Like the days when a person was left holding a gun over a downed skinwalker who simply looked human. Which would have been fine if she'd been able to make a hasty exit.

No, instead, the skinwalker was lying in a back alley behind one of the businesses in town. Unfortunately for her, she apparently wasn't alone. Jo heard a car pull up and then footsteps in the alley.

Shit.

She looked around frantically and tried to find somewhere to stash the gun that she in no way had a permit for. Meanwhile, she tried to come up with a cover excuse for why she was standing over a dead body with blood on her pants.

She had done enough getting out by herself and had done enough brooding. Jo was ready to talk to someone. Or at least, someone who wasn't Dean. She wasn't sure how much, if anything, she would tell Molly. But some company would be awfully nice.

So she'd called the young wizard and asked to meet up for ice cream.

Ice cream always made everything better.

Or at least, that was what Jo was hoping for.

Life was apparently never boring on the Hellmouth. Jo had barely had time to think since she'd arrived here a few months ago. She was burnt out and there was a hell of a lot to think about.

Or to take a break from thinking about as the case might very well be. She really just needed to get out. And not to kill monsters, since that particular attempt at distraction hadn't gone all that well before.

Which was how Jo ended up in the back aisle of a movie theater, waiting for the start of a movie that was tied in with some sort of toy or comic book franchise. She couldn't remember which, but she had happily panned over the horror and romantic comedy offerings at the theater and this was what was left.

Now she just had to hope that Murphy's law didn't interfere with her plans for a night off.

There was a nest of vampires on the outskirts of town. Jo knew this because people had started to go missing. Some of them turned up, drained of blood. That, and there were a lot of nasty rumors flying around.

She wanted to find Ellen. Wanted to talk to her, but she was still working up the nerve to do so. How did you say to someone "Hey, I just found out that I'm your Mom."

For that matter, what did you say to someone when in that situation?

So, hunting vampires. Great distraction. Jo had already gotten some dead man's blood from the funeral home. The syringes were capped and in her pocket ready to go. She also had a rifle and her silver knife. Neither would do a whole lot of good beyond slowing them down, but they were both sort of her security blanket.

Armed and ready for a fight, she slipped up to the warehouse where she suspected the vampires were hiding out and keeping their victims.

Jo knew Dean's birthday was coming up. If she had her way, they would have actually gone out and done something to celebrate. But she didn't know how Dean was about birthdays and she didn't honestly know what might be thrown their way at the last minute. It seemed that having a day off wasn't really in the cards for them anytime soon.

So instead she asked Murphy if she could borrow her kitchen and slipped out the morning of his birthday to do some baking.

Dean wasn't in the room when she got back, which was fine. The surprise would work just as well. She left an apple pie along with some cupcakes and a card. It wasn't an overly flowery or cheesy card, just a simple birthday card. Jo wasn't exactly the flowery language and lacy cards type after all and she knew damn well that Dean wasn't either.

She also left a small box that was neatly wrapped and contained a nice new knife, engraved with his initials complete with a nice sheath.

With that done, she smiled a bit to herself and then left again to get on with her day. She was sure she'd see him at some point later to wish him a happy birthday herself but the thought of him happening on her surprise at some point during the day made her happy.

After getting Ellen back to where she needed to be, Dean headed back to the room.

He couldn't tell anyone, Ellen said. Couldn't tell anyone who she was. Not the people who mattered, at least. Not Sam. Not Bobby.

Not Jo.

Ellen was his kid. His and Jo's, and he couldn't tell Jo.

It was already eating him. So naturally, the answer was to shut down, and drink. It was the Winchester way, made popular by John, the tradition carried on proudly by Dean, over and over. And over.

Jo hadn't been awake. And Dean'd got up in the morning and out the door without talking to her.

Tonight, he shut the door to the motel room and put a new, unopened bottle of whiskey on the table. He had another one in his hand that was already open. Only the liquor in the neck had been drunk, however. Dean never drove when he was drunk, and he'd had to get back. He'd headed home by way of the West York liquor store.

He'd been out all day, thinking about things. About everything that was at risk. His life, Jo's life. Ellen's life. Mary's life. Sam's probably, too. What else? The town? It had to be something huge.

He hadn't tried to get Cas just yet. He was too mad.

Dean was hoping that Jo wasn't going to be here until he passed out. He was really hoping. Because he couldn't tell her. What would she think? That Ellen was a girl he was interested in? If he didn't say anything, she might. He wasn't going to not help Ellen or not spend time with her.

And Cas had SUCH a tongue lashing coming.

When the bathroom door opened, Dean shut his eyes, opened the bottle, and took a drink.

There was no getting her job back. Jo knew that, but she still felt the need to apologize to her boss at The Darkside of the Moon for disappearing for as long as she had. It wasn't like she could actually say 'gee, sorry, I was kidnapped by a demon who took over my body. can I have my job back?' But at the very least, she wanted to apologize for leaving them in the lurch.

Not to mention the fact that she was going crazy with researching and coming up emptyhanded. She needed a night off to just blow off some steam. She would have suggested it to Dean, but he'd been out when she'd decided to go for a drink. So she left a note for him and headed out. She was armed, as always, ready for trouble but hoping there wouldn't be any.

Once she'd had the chance to apologize (and had the apology waved off just a bit) she'd settled into one of the corner booths, watching the pool players and gauging how easy it would be to hustle them. She was worried about making sure she contributed to the cost of rent at the motel and food and everything.

For now, she just settled in with her whiskey sour and took the time to people-watch.

Saerian sat in Jack's apartment, eyes shut, hands moving as though he were directing an orchestra. He was dressed in a nice three-piece suit, once Jack's favorite. His shoes were immaculately shined, his eyes shone in the dark.

A cigarette dangled between his lips, and while he paced, Saerian used his mind to find the people of York that were sleeping. At this hour, it was really most of them. It was shortly before dawn, a time when vampires were settling down to sleep and humans would still be asleep at least another hour.

He could do a lot of damage in that hour. And he intended to.

[backdated to Julian's hospital release]

Finally released from the hospital, Julian was walking with a cane to support the wound to his hip. It was regularly annoying, reminding him about his own vulnerability. If the knife hadn't been silver, he would have healed in moments. Instead, he had to endure a surgery, stitching, and now a month of physical therapy to make sure his muscles healed properly. With the damage silver could do to his system, he had to be extra-careful about letting it heal properly. Since his body was unused to such a slow process.

He was still worried about Jo. That cop hadn't come back, so he guessed no one had figured out who she was yet. Or caught her. He hoped she was okay, but at the same time, he was worried. She hadn't been herself, not at all -- in a very literal sense. He'd been thinking about this while lying in that stupid hospital bed, and had finally come to a decision.

The bike was easier to ride than trying to work the clutch on the Shelby, so Julian rode over to the motel where Dean and Jo stayed. It was no mystery - he'd walked Jo home before, and had smelled Dean enough to know they were together. He was going to have to convince Dean that something was wrong with Jo, and then try to help him find her again. Julian parked the bike and strode up to the motel door, knocking while holding his breath.

( And hoping like hell that Dean wouldn't try and stab him too. )

Backdated to the day after this

Jo hadn't been in the mood for talking all that much on the night Cas had brought her back to the motel. She'd gotten her tattoo and then passed out after making sure her ankle was wrapped well enough to avoid infection. The nightmares were back, just like always. If anything, they were worse than usual, as if making up for the month she'd missed.

She woke up to a few twinges of pain in her ankle from the healing tattoo, a migraine from a restless night, and just as many questions that were a lot harder to avoid by the light of day.

She was also pretty sure she needed to talk to Dean. If only to find out what she'd missed over the last month, but also because they hadn't properly talked about anything since before that soulgaze. Things had been awkward since then, though she supposed they were both just dealing with what they'd seen. She didn't know exactly how much that might change things between the two of them, or how much things might change in the aftermath of whatever had taken control of her over the past month.

Christmas was fast approaching. Jo still wasn't feeling back to normal and the realization that this would be her first Christmas without her mom was really starting to hit her.

There was nothing like a good hunt to take her mind off the holidays. Unfortunately, she didn't have a lead on anything at the moment. So she had taken her EMF, a gun, a silver knife, and a small bag of supplies (including salt, of course) and set off to wander around York. It was a Hellmouth, after all. Something was bound to happen.

Jo was missing a month of her life. So far, nothing had come back to her. No flashes of memories, no new nightmares. Nothing. It was just... gone. As if she'd somehow been hibernating. It didn't sit well with her.

She was now sporting a new tattoo on her ankle. Supposedly that would keep this from happening again, but it just didn't feel like enough.

When it came down to it, she hadn't really felt like she was in control since she'd come back from the dead.

Not that she wasn't grateful for the second chance at life, but she didn't like that she still didn't know what her resurrection had cost.

She wasn't sure if Phaedra would be able to help, but if there was even a chance that the psychic vampire could find some of the memories that she was hoping were buried somewhere, well then she wanted to take it.

Not to mention that she'd been meaning to ask Phae about the tattoo that matched the now fading scar that adorned Jo's wrist. There was a connection there to the demon that had forced Jo to carve herself up. She knew it.

So, armed with a lot of questions, Jo took a deep breath and knocked on Harry's door after the sun had set.

It'd been over a month.

At first, Dean figured she just needed a little bit of space. It wasn't like being Molly was stress-free, or like the walking dead taking over the town on Halloween night was a barrel of laughs. And then Sam came back. Dean forgot to worry, he was so glad. But once that settled down, Dean tried to track her. He tried checking the GPS in her phone, and looking for her via credit card receipts, and checking motels in an area in York and around.

Jo didn't want to be found.

Cas seemed busy again, too.

So Dean went to Harry.

It was just before noon when he knocked on the door to Harry's house. He didn't want to deal with Phaedra, even if she might be able to help. He was pretty sure her boyfriend was a little bit of a tall glass of crazy, and right now, all he could think about was getting answers about Jo. Maybe she'd checked in with Harry. But if not, he WAS the wizard.

( more )

Ellen was not a girl to sit around and do nothing. With no answers as to why she'd been brought here - she doubted it was to help out in the wacky funfair of oogyness - Ellen had been forced to hit the books. The library hadn't been useful books-wise, but it had free internet access and the librarian didn't give her the stinkeye for spending all day in there. It didn't suit Ellen, this inactivity, but there was little else she could do.

Of course, she still had to keep in shape. She wouldn't go so far as to say she'd been patrolling, but Ellen had been out at night, looking for trouble. At this point, she'd be happy to see anything she had to kill.

Tonight she was near the centre of town, knife tucked into the back of her pants, underneath her coat. She walked the streets, trying to look vulnerable, hoping to attract unsavoury types. She'd even dressed differently; miniskirt rather than her normal jeans (with boyshorts underneath - no way was she flashing anyone whilst kicking their ass) and a low-cut vest. A silver chain dangled down into her cleavage, the end of the necklace hidden by her top. She was still wearing shoes she could run and fight in; beat-up 18-hole Doc Martens, the sides and tongue folded down midway.

Ellen headed towards the nearest graveyard, keeping an eye out for anything unusual, without making it look like that's what she was doing.

Jo still wasn't in control of her mind. Her consciousness was buried somewhere deep. Probably not somewhere pleasant, but she also had no idea as to what she'd been up to for the past week or so. This might have been a good thing as her body had been busy gathering up supplies for a ritual to open the gates of hell.

There was blood on her hands, quite literally. For now, it was only animal blood. They had been washed clean, but would still smell to someone with heightened senses.

She had returned to York to make the final preparations. It would be time soon. She wandered the woods on the outskirts of town, near the gates but not directly in their vicinity. Not yet.

Jo never had quite figured out the reason she was back. If she had, she probably would have been horrified. As it was, she'd easily fallen back into the seemingly simple act of living. She'd taken the mysterious 'gift' of resurrection and run with it. She worked, she hunted, she spent evenings with Dean. She ate, she drank, she enjoyed the way the breeze ran through her hair on the slightly brisk Fall nights in York.

She hadn't forgotten about what might have brought her back, or the nagging questions as to the why of it all. But she hadn't gotten closer to any answers and so she'd just gone on with her life. She'd even started to get used to the idea that maybe she was just back. Maybe that was the end of it.

So she wasn't thinking about her resurrection or the demons that were most likely involved in it on her way home from work. And it crept up on her so suddenly, so silently that she never had the chance to feel that trepidation over something that wasn't right. It was just as though a switch had been flipped and Jo was no longer in the driver's seat. In fact, Jo's consciousness was suddenly buried deep in the recesses of her mind. If she ever regained control, she would remember none of this.

A slow, eerie smile spread across Jo's face as her eyes turned down to her hands. She stopped in the middle of her walk and turned, heading not for the Phoenix but for Trout Run Road.

There was much that had to be done.

Jo was absolutely ecstatic to have her body back. She could look people in the eye again. And get upset without her fingers lighting up or any nearby electronics shorting out. She was short again. She never thought she'd appreciate being short, but she did now. And she didn't have to deal with the icy cold metal that was in certain... ah, delicate parts. Not a pleasant experience given the cold snap that York had experienced during the week before Halloween.

Most importantly, she could truly get back to hunting. Something had caught her attention in the form of a rash of livestock murders. She'd bet her shotgun that whatever was doing it was not a typical predator.

She'd followed the trail and it had led to the most recent farm where all of the cows had been slaughtered. Apparently the farmer hadn't had the heart to deal with the clean-up yet, as various pieces and a lot of blood was still scattered on the ground.

Jo knelt as she caught sight of something else-an over-large footprint. She pulled out her journal and flipped through the pages of notes, hoping to find something to compare it to. There had to be something she'd encountered with a footprint this size and shape.

( Shoot to thrill )