The Breath that We Hold (Jo Harvelle, SPN)
Title: The Breath that We Hold
Series: SPN
Characters: Jo Harvelle
Pairings: One-sided Dean/Jo.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Jo takes a rather inopportune moment to think about Dean Winchester. (Possible character death?)((Also: title from the song I'm listening to right now, Xanax by Maria Taylor. Titles. I can't do them.)
Words: 467
"I'll call."
It seems so long ago, now, that she had stood and watched Dean Winchester walk out of her life.
It’s a strange thought to be going through her head now; pinned under an angry whatsit and scrabbling for her gun, her breath, her life. In all the times she’s nearly died, it is one thing she’s never thought of before.
Why would she? She’s a big girl and, honestly, it was just a stupid crush.
And it’s usually best to think about the hunt rather than school-girl crushes.
And she should be thinking of so many other things. She should be thinking of her mom and how she could be wondering where her baby is right now. She should be thinking of her mom and how she was right about Jo not being able to do the job (even if she could do the job and this could happen to anyone). She should be thinking of all the stupid decisions she made that got her stuck here in the first place.
She should be thinking of a way to get free and kill this ugly-assed son-of-a-bitch, goddamn it!
Instead all she can think of is a wry grin below hazel eyes. His leather jacket and the sound of his voice.
She's not really even sure he's alive.
Hell, at the moment she's not really even sure she's alive.
She can't breathe and there are cold, clammy hands around her neck and tears stinging her eyes (because, yeah, she’s crying like an idiot who let her guard down and is having the life choked out of her).
So she thinks of Dean Winchester.
She thinks of the way he smells (old leather and something uniquely Dean that Jo never could quite pin down, underpinned by the mix of sweat and blood and life-on-the-road that every hunter smells of) and way he laughs. She thinks of his girlishly long lashes and his lovely ass which she unapologetically admired when she could.
Somewhere, in the deepest, most annoyingly immature corner of her mind (the one that thinks life would be better if it were a Harlequin novel and the one she spent so much of her youth trying desperately to ignore) she thinks of Dean Winchester and wonders what would have happened if he had called.
By now everything is getting dim and she’s given up trying to reach her gun. In the corner of her mind that isn’t busy having stupid thoughts about stupid things she thinks about her father and Ash. Maybe she'll see them.
Maybe she'll see Dean.
Her fingers are barely moving anymore and she can feel herself start to drift.
There's a bang. It sounds like a shotgun, but it's too distant for her tell.
Everything is getting dim... and there he is.