Make it later?

He lifts her feet from the floor, just to be a dick about it, holds her there for a second before he drops her again, pushes her out with hands on shoulders so he can see her face.

“When Dean called, I didn’t – god, I thought he was mad. Or drunk. Possibly both.” Grin stretches before it falters, fades, settles into the uncertainty of his next question. “Ellen? She —?”

Jo tries not to let her face fall, lips pressed into a tight smile as she shakes her head. To her, it's still too raw, just like yesterday, though it’s been a few weeks since she woke up alone in Carthage.  

“No. No, it’s uh...it’s just me.” She still hears her mother’s voice sometimes, before she falls asleep. (I will always love you, baby.) He smile shakes, and her eyes burn, and she doesn’t want to cry again, damn it. Clearing her throat, she nods at him.

“T-shirts seem a little old hat, don’t you think? Jackets maybe. Branded stationery.”

Between the rag-tag collection of people and angels who frequent the bunker, he’s pretty sure there’s only one who hasn’t died, at some point. Birds of a feather, etc, etc, but this is getting a little ridiculous.

“Good question. Money is currently riding on the Big Beard in the Sky for lack of any better suspects, but you let me know if you hear anything.” Gabriel doesn’t love pulling out the word dad. If the guy’s so offended by the lack of respect, he can come tell Gabriel himself. Gabriel’s got a few things to bring up, if he does. “You?”

Right. Because it’s likely she’ll find out before an archangel does. 

Still, it’s nice to know she’s not the only one without a clue. The only working theory she has is from Dean, and while she has no reasons to doubt his logic, she’s also pretty out of the loop on all the ridiculous end-of-the-world stuff that’s gone down since she died.

@makeitlatxr

“So you think your mom knew you were into scissoring chicks?”

Jo has that faraway look, the one that makes Deanna think that she’s back in that room, bleeding out slowly and waiting for the end to come. And she doesn’t know how else to bring her back out.

She’s not exactly Sam here, she doesn’t do feelings. 

It’s a good thing she’s done with her beer, or she'd have definitely choked. 

Jo’s used to comments like that, sure — from Dee, from drunk hunters who used to come by the Roadhouse (those would get more than a scowl for their trouble) —, but her mind’s been wandering to that damn hardware store for most of the day.