The Roadhouse was silent aside from the creak of walls settling and the distant hum if the jukebox. You’d stopped by with Sam and Dean—on Winchester family business. Ash alerted them that he had tracked electrical storms and cattle deaths in Wichita.

You snuck off to grab a drink from Ellen—you order and she disappears round the back of the bar for new glasses. Jo leans against the bartop beside you, fair hair cascading over her mystifying doe eyes. She watches you carefully before speaking.

“So. You came back.” She smiles, a soft yet pleased smile that you’ve crossed paths again. “Couldn’t stay away too long could ya?” The question is laced with sarcasm. A prickly defense in case you hadn’t missed her at all.

There’s a deep seated hesitation in your bones. Because this was Jo Harvelle. A beautiful girl who was daughter to the scariest woman you’d ever met. One wrong move and Ellen’d shank you with a broken whiskey glass.

Ellen rounds the bar again and Jo sinks back against the scuffed bartop in defeat. Her mother’s presence made you go rigid in a heartbeat. Jo was off limits as long as her mother was within a fifty foot radius of her. Ellen slides you your drink and disappears to finish organizing the back room.

“C’mon.” Jo whispers. “Gotta show you a….possible hunt I saw in the papers.” A gentle tug on your sleeve draws you to follow her. You’re tempted. Before you know it, you’re following her past Ash’s den to what is probably her room.