Notes: Supernatural is not mine. This story was written for the spnroadhouse Ficathon, prompt 11: "Jo - the first time she considered herself a hunter." Makes reference to some of the events in Jo's online journal.

It took three weeks of practice every day before Jo could hit the bull's-eye every time with her new bow set, but it was worth it when her Daddy smiled at her, when he called her his badass little girl and she knew she was just what he wanted.

"I'm going to be a hunter," she told him. "Just like you and Uncle John."

He laughed and picked her up. "The best, sweetie. The very best."

2.

God, it wasn't fair, she was sixteen and her mom still wouldn't let her even train for hunting. Like she was one of those stupid kids at school who had never even heard of ghosts.

Well, screw that. Jo had had enough of honey-not-yet and sweetie-be-careful. Maybe her mom couldn't see how she'd grown up, but Gordon could, and they were going to go on stakeout together. If she played her cards right, she could probably help take out the Rawhead too, and then her mom would have to see.

Mom always said you should decide what you wanted and then work for it. Jo had decided she was a hunter, starting right now.

3.

She was ready this time. Jo remembered thinking she was ready when she got into the whole SNAFU with Gordon and the Rawhead, but this time was different. Nobody had goaded her into this hunt. She had done all the research herself. It was her hunt, and this time she was not going to run screaming the minute she heard something.

This time she was not going to be sent to her room, and she was not going to be cowed into coming back home and going to college like a good little girl. She was going to show them all--Mom, Dean, Daddy, can you see your little girl now?--what she could do.

Her feet whispered on the floor of the Roadhouse as she slipped out into the pre-dawn chill. She'd made plans this time. Ash was laying a credit card trail, she had a bus ticket for Philadelphia and enough money to last her a week.

Time to hunt.

4.

She hit the ground just in time to avoid the cast-iron pot, but she didn't roll out of the way fast enough to miss the china plate, and she only barely threw up an arm fast enough to avoid getting shards in her eyes. Jo cursed, eyed the distance, and then made a lunge for the pantry cupboard just as the little kid's ghost flickered into existence again. She fumbled with the lighter for an endless moment, and then a couple more pieces of airborne pottery hit the ground as the shrivelled little corpse caught fire.

Jo sat down heavily, her breath rushing in and out. Over. It was over. And then she let out an incredulous whoop of laughter, because she'd finally done it. Finished her first solo hunt with nobody to rescue her, without needing to be rescued.

She had strained muscles and cuts that needed cleaning, in a few minutes she'd have to put out that fire or burn the house down, and if she didn't get another bartending job soon, she wouldn't have money for gas, let alone motels. But right now--staring at the flames, adrenaline warming her like liquor--she felt pretty damn good.

5.

Turned out there was a reason Rick hadn't called her in two years.

Turned out he wasn't exactly Rick anymore.

She'd been tracking him three days when he got the drop on her in a motel parking lot after dark. The fight was clumsy and desperate, his claws scraping across her face (he kind of thinks you're a schoolgirl) as she bucked and kicked (I'm telling you because I care). Then she managed to reach her shotgun, and in a second she had it rammed up against his neck. The blast took out most of his head, but she fired a couple more times before staggering away to throw up (my daddy shot your daddy in the head).

She wasn't entirely sure what it would take to make sure he stayed dead, so she dragged him out of town to burn him. It was below freezing; the cold made her nose run, and she couldn't stop shivering. Her hands shook as she poured gasoline over his body. Then she watched him burn (he had loved to annoy her by flicking his lighter on and off).

When she finally got back to the motel, she didn't go to bed but slumped against the wall and stared at her hands, wondering if they would start growing claws. She remembered Rick leaning her against the wall to kiss her, and John Winchester lurking at the back of the church for her dad's funeral, his eyes hollow.

She guessed she was finally a hunter (just like Uncle John), because she had killed someone she cared about.

6.

Three days after killing Rick, she finally called home.

"Harvelle's Roadhouse."

"Hey, Mom."

"Joanna Beth--"

Jo closed her eyes and let her mom's voice wash over her, husky and strained with worry. She just wanted to hear someone alive, someone who hadn't turned into a monster, someone who proved you could lose people and keep going.

"--and honey, you watch out for Gordon. He's out of jail and I think he'll go after anyone who's helped the Winchesters."

"What?"

Her mom sighed. "That's right, you were gone by then. He found out about Sam's visions and tried to kill him. Landed in jail, but he busted out last week."

Oh God.

Jo mumbled something--I'll be careful, I love you, goodbye--she wasn't sure, and hung up. She stared at the wall, not seeing it, seeing a bar in Louisiana, remembering the burn of whiskey in her throat and feeling grown-up as Gordon flashed his smile at her.

"Come on, Jo, we're in the business together now. You can tell me what's up."

She'd been so eager for someone to take her seriously that she'd blabbed all her secrets like a schoolgirl. And Sam nearly died. Could still die.

Jo looked at her duffel bag. She hit the road, pretend she didn't know. There were chupacabras in New Mexico, a phantom hitchhiker in Texas, crop circles in Tennesee. In a country with this many ghosts, you could run forever.

Or she could admit she'd screwed up and try to fix it.

Round about 3 A.M., when she knew her mom would be asleep but Ash would still be up, she called the Roadhouse again. When she got into the car the next morning, she had a new folder to toss on the seat beside her.

She knew what her mom would say about this job. For once, she actually cared, and if there was a way to put Gordon back in jail she'd do it. But if not . . .

If not, there might be a difference between what turned Rick into a monster and whatever happened to Gordon, but she sure couldn't see it. Hunters protected people, and that was what she planned to do.

Jo pressed the gas and pulled onto the open highway.