DISCLAIMER: SUPERNATURAL doesn't belong to me. I prayed for it, put it on my Christmas wish list, and even asked the Easter Bunny. Apparently, I'm still in line for all three.

A/N: Just a quick snippet into Jo.

They're off to find the hero of the day
But what if they should fall by someone's wicked way…

Jo threw one final look at the tiny studio apartment she'd been renting the last few months.

There was a lone chair shoved against a small square table in one corner. The bed was nothing but an old spring mattress on the floor. There was a small night stand next to it where a single vase of flowers rested. There were a couple of magazines strewn around, lots of newspapers, and an old paper bowl with half-eaten cereal on the floor next to the mattress.

Funny, she'd had that square dining table, but she'd never used it. She'd always just sat cross-legged on her bed. She slept in it, ate on the floor next to it, did her research while sprawled over it, and even cleaned her weapons on it. She didn't use much other furniture in her place.

But even then, it had been home. Even for a little while.

Now, though, she knew that she couldn't stay here. She had to move again. She'd never be able to walk around Duluth again knowing that a demon knew she was hanging around here.

Jo licked her lips and sighed heavily. But that was just the least of her fears. She knew that there was no way in hell she could ever walk back in that bar and not see Sam Winchester. She gulped a lungful of air. Her heart accelerated, and her fingers trembled on the doorknob.

Two days. Two days. And she still couldn't get him out of her system.

His shadow loomed over her everywhere she went. And because it was Sam Winchester, he cast a long shadow, and she had to run very far away to escape it.

"My daddy shot your daddy in the head…"

His voice, taunting and mocking, still swam in her head, ringing in her ears. His face, so beautiful in its angled imperfection, had been twisted into a mockery of a smile. His breath had been hot and delicious with the sweetness of a couple of beers as he breathed against her cheek. When he'd whispered those words, she had felt a shiver down her spine.

He had sounded so twisted, yet had looked so goddamned beautiful, she couldn't decide who was sicker: him or her.

Her phone rang, startling her enough that she jumped. She cursed herself, knowing that if she truly wanted to be a hunter, then she ought to learn to control her reflexes a little better than that. She let the phone ring a couple of times more. The ring tone was the mouldy riff from Metallica's "Hero of the Day". Nothing said "Dean Winchester" better than that.

The phone stopped ringing, and she sighed in relief, glad that the decision had been taken off her hands by the wonderful works of voicemail. She didn't know if she was ready to talk to Dean yet.

Her heart had thundered crazily at the idea of hearing his voice again.

Sam had been right. Or the demon inside Sam had been right: she still carried a fucking Olympic torch for Dean Winchester.

The fact that he thought nothing of her but as a schoolgirl, worse, a little sister—well that had screwed her completely over. But he had said he would call, and well, Metallica blaring over her cellphone announced loud and clear that he had stuck to his promise.

Jo just wasn't sure she was ready to hear his voice.

She wasn't sure she was ready to hear him apologize. Because if there was one thing she never wanted from Dean, it was his apology. What was he gonna apologize for? Not thinking she was a siren? For not shooting Sam when he—the demon—had threatened he was going to kill her? For never calling all those months after she ripped at him over her father's death?

Hell, he had nothing to apologize for. But Dean, knowing Dean, he was gonna try and apologize for something. After all, she was a loose end in this case, and Dean always tied up his loose ends.

The thing was, Jo wasn't ready to be a tied-up loose end. Nope, she was at a loss herself, and until she got over this shit, she wasn't gonna let the boys get over it, either. Petty? Maybe. Selfish? Definitely. She wanted to stay on the boys' minds as long as they stayed in hers.

She said a quick goodbye to her apartment, and jogged down towards her beat-up old pick-up. It was light blue, dented and scratched, kinda rickety, but it was hers. She'd paid for it herself, all four thousand dollars coming from the tips she'd saved up all those years. Best of all, it allowed her to come and go as she pleased.

It gave her a means to run away.

She was getting real good at it, too.

Jo sighed heavily as she slid into the cab. She gunned the engine, once, twice, until it stopped stalling and finally fired to life. She let it idle for a while, warming up the old engine, and twisting the rearview mirror so she could see her reflection.

No wonder Dean thought she was just a kid.

She sighed in disgust as she ran her hand through her hair. She'd cut it and let it wave a little. She thought it made her look more mature. But it wasn't the hair. It was the eyes that gave her away.

I still look like a scared little girl, she thought sadly.

Her phone rang again, and she had to shake away the jolt of surprise that had shot through her. Get a grip, Jo! She gritted her teeth.

Metallica called to her. Dean was calling again.

With a heavy sigh, Jo pulled her phone out of her bag, and flipped it open. "Yeah?" she said, as nonchalantly and as coolly as she could. She hoped that her voice didn't throb with longing the way she suddenly was.

"Jo?"

Her heart accelerated at the sound of his voice. Blood pounded over her temples bringing a throbbing headache. Her hands turned clammy, cold sweat dotted her brow and upper lip.

"Sam."

"Hey," he said uncertainly.

Of course, it was Sam. His voice wasn't as gorgeous as Dean's. It didn't resonate as much, the timbre wasn't as rich, and he sure as held didn't drawl her name like it was dripping with honey the way Dean did. Besides, she forgot that Dean would never call her. "How…how're you feeling?"

But Sam's voice had always been gentler. Kinder. Softer, and just plain easier to listen to than Dean's.

"Fine." She heard herself reply, even though she was sure her throat had locked itself up.

"Good," he sighed heavily.

There was a long pause between them. Jo honestly didn't know what else to say to Sam. His voice still sent her reeling, despite the fact that the tone was considerably more…Sam. She should have noticed that the man in her bar two nights ago had not been Sam. He hadn't talked the way Sam did. He'd been too rough round the edges, his voice hadn't been smooth and mellow like Sam Winchester talked. His voice had been too deep, like Sammy pretending to be Dean.

Maybe on a really twisted level, that was why she had let him stay instead of giving him the boot.

"Look, Jo—"

She cut him off. "Why're you using Dean's phone?"

There was a pause, and a heavy sigh. "Because I didn't think you'd answer my call."

Jo scoffed. "No kidding. This is, in theory, cheating. You using Dean's phone, I mean."

"I know."

"You knew I would…that I wanted…that…he was…"

"Jo, I'm sorry." He sounded like it, too. His voice was gruff with unshed tears, and taut with regret.

She had to fight back the tears. Sam was just being cruel now.

He had to say sorry in that raw, painful voice of his. He had to say sorry for doing something he had never even done in the first place—because Jo knew it hadn't been him. Hell, Sam had to say sorry and sound like he meant it, too. Then, to top it off, he had used Dean's phone to cheat her into thinking that Dean was calling her, when all along, she was still a kid in his eyes.

She was torn between hating him, being afraid of him, feeling sorry for him, and well, loving him just a little bit.

Sam was pretty damned screwed, too.

How could she hate someone already so screwed up?

"My daddy shot your daddy in the head…"

Maybe for just a little bit longer.

"Bye, Sam. Don't call me anymore." With that, she hung up.

She managed to hold her tears in for all of two seconds, before she dropped her head onto the steering wheel and cried. Her body shook, wracked with tears she had held since the night of her attack. Tears over truths she never wanted to hear, tears over a bravado she never really had, tears over broken dreams…and tears over her hero for the day.

A few minutes later, she was spent. She took a deep breath and wiped away the offensive tears from her eyes. She shifted her truck into gear and eased her onto the road. The ring tones were gonna change, maybe she'd switch Sam and Dean's tones. Maybe she was gonna get Dean a new one. Wherever I May Roam sounded like Dean. Either way, Hero of the Day totally belonged to Sam now.

She hummed a tune under her breath. A small smile on her lips. She was gonna be all right after all. In fact, maybe she was gonna stop by the Roadhouse for a little while. She hadn't seen her mom in months. And right about now, a good hug from her momma was just what she needed.