Jo was bored and restless and the combination was not good for the girl. She'd been out of sorts since discussing Gordon with Sam and Dean, letting herself mope around over the people she had lost; whether to death or who had just lost their way. It was a rather long list.
Tired of the four walls of her motel room, the constant bickering of the people in the next room and without even her beloved informercials to amuse her she decided to head out and go get a drink. Maybe she'd luck out and there would be some dumb frat boys trying to play pool that she could take for some money. Slipping her dad's knife, the pure iron "pig stick" blade (as Dean had called it so long ago" into her back pocket she tucked another larger silver blade into her boot. So she wasn't exactly a normal girl.
Jo left her hotel and headed, by foot because only lunatics would decide to drive through LA with no traffic lights, towards the bar that was several blocks away from her motel. She thrust her hands into the pockets of the brown hoodie she wore and kept her eyes glancing around. Rounding the corner to the place she could hear the screaming of someone and she picked up the pace.
"Hey!" She called out as she hurried around the corner. She stopped seeing the large wolf, larger than any she had ever seen (even the werewolves) cowering over a younger brunette. "Shit," was muttered lightly under her breath. She had been prepared for a bit of trouble but this was a lot of trouble.