Set in episode 5x10.*SPOILERS*. I recently rewatched this (totally dealing with the hiatus, it's fine) and was inspired to write it out from Jo's perspective. Minor character death of course. Oh look, another brilliantly uplifting story. Super. Enjoy? Idk.

Jo's POV

No one ever said dying would be this slow.

Ever since I'd started hunting, I had thought I'd known death. I'd seen it rear it's ugly head enough times, tearing people and demons away from the world with one vicious swipe. No remorse, no hesitation, and no distinction between the two species. And to be honest, that's what I prayed for. I knew a hunter's life was short, and I wanted a death that was far shorter. I wanted a light that blinked once and then went out, not a slowly fading flicker.

But we can't always get what we want.

So instead of finding instant death, I find myself splayed out on the floor of a hardware store with my guts sliding around between my fingers and my breath catching in my throat and this weird blur that rests on the edges of my vision and won't go away.

At first it doesn't even really register that I'm dying. I mean yeah, I know it's bad. I'm not an idiot after all. But the pain level is pretty manageable considering that a hellhound just tore a gaping hole in my side, so for a little while I'm pretty sure I'll pull through. And then I look around at the three faces staring back at me. Sam. Dean. And my mother.

They're all looking at me with the same shade of dejection, a hopelessness that reflects back at me from the pits of their eyes and makes me reassess the lack of feeling in my body as maybe being a very bad thing.

And then all three of them seem to move simultaneously, practically tripping over each other in their hurry. I try to follow their movements, but things are getting fuzzy so I just let myself drift a little bit, brought back to reality when a hand that had intended to be gentle places a thick cloth across my open wound. I hold back a full blown scream as the pain finally kicks in, settling on a few pathetic whimpers as I try to stop my eyes from rolling back into my head. My mother's face finally comes back into focus after a few moments, and I grin back at her in relief. Mom's here. Everything's okay, mom will take care of it.

It's such a childish thought, but I can't help the instant wave of comfort her presence brings, even if her returning smile is brimming with tears and holds an air of utter desperation.

"You're gonna be okay, you hear me Joanna Beth?" she whispers, her chin quivering.

And that's when I finally figure out that I won't be. That's when the reality sets in and I realize that I'm not making it out of this one alive. I nod anyway though. And I'm suddenly terrified. My hands start to tremble as I press them firmly against my side, and I can't tell if it's fear or if the shock is finally setting in. Probably fear.

Definitely fear.

I don't want to die today.

I mean I'm 24 year's old for Christ's sake. The closest thing I've had to love is with the man currently fiddling with an old radio in the corner of the store, his eyes flickering back to me every few seconds. And Dean Winchester hardly counts as a love affair.

I'm lying on the floor in a pool of blood and suddenly I'm thinking of all the things I should've done, Dean-related or not. I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't've fought with my mom so much. Maybe I should've realized that she was just looking out for me, just trying to protect me (and herself) from ever having to face the situation we're currently in. And maybe I should've taken a swimming lesson. Never really learned how to do that...

My mind keeps wandering away from me, filled with half-thoughts of everything I'd ever done, and everything I'd ever wanted to. It spikes my breath and my heart picks up the pace, as if it knows its beats are numbered and it's trying to squeeze in a lifetime of them before it's too late. Before I'm dead...

Dean's muffled voice brings me back from my memories, back to the disaster we've found ourselves in. I know I'm dying, but that doesn't mean everyone else has to. My head feels heavier and more clouded than it should, but I push through the fog, trying to latch onto some kind of plan. Something that can save Sam, Dean, and my mother. She's still kneeling beside me, muttering mostly to herself as she tries to make work of the bloody mess that was once my stomach. I watch her for a moment as the idea forms, wondering how I can convince her to leave me behind.

"Stretcher?" Dean's growing panic has caused his voice to rise, loud enough for me to hear now. The Winchesters are standing a few feet away, casting quick glances in my direction, their faces lined with worry.

"I'll see what we got," Sam replies as he starts to move.

"Stop. Guys, stop." I'm surprised they hear my strangled addition to their conversation, but both brothers turn to look at me. I see the desperation in their eyes, the ever-present need to save people, to do their job and get me home. And I also know I'm going to have to stop their attempts at doing just that.

"Can we be realistic about this please?" That one sentence grabs the attention of everyone in the room. I see realization hit all three of the faces staring back at me, followed by instant denial. So I keep talking, trying to make them see. Trying to make them understand. "I can't move my legs. I can't be moved. My guts are being held in by an ace bandage. We gotta get our priorities straight here."

I'm watching Dean's expression from the corner of my eye, so I know he's the first to catch on. The second he hears the word "propane", I know he understands. His eyes slide shut, just waiting for the punchline. And when it comes, I watch as it smacks all three of them across the face as if it were an actual punch.

"No. Jo, no."

I shoot down Dean's strangled rebuttal, even as it passes his lips. I can see that deep down he already knows that this is how it has to be. He just has to let his logic surpass emotion. So I give him that logic with a single word: Hellhounds.

"No. No, I won't let you." My mom whimpers her dissent next, but I shoot her down too. My mind is made up. The people standing in from of me are not going to die today. Just me.

I almost roll my eyes at my own train of thought. God it's just like every war movie I've ever watched. We're stuck in the middle of that stupid, infamous scene where the wounded warrior gives her last speech, usually along the lines of "save yourselves" and "just leave me behind". I hate those movies. What a goddamn cliche. And here I am, delivering that very speech, the words coming slow but sure as I try not to let the nausea take over. I'm pretty sure vomiting all over myself would make them rethink this plan. So I focus my attention back on Dean instead, knowing he's the one who has to make this decision for everyone else. Knowing he'll make the right one, the logical one. I see the guilt already forming behind his eyes as he looks at me, his eyes darkening from brilliant green to murky gray. But I also see that I've convinced him. He knows I have to die. He knows that killing the Devil is more important than keeping me alive. I know it too, but it still stings to see the resolve in his expression.

"No. That's not..." My mom's voice whips my attention away from Dean and back to her. I try to smile, but looking at her, the tears I'd been holding back finally start to slip past.

"Mom. This might literally be your last chance to treat me like an adult. You might wanna take it." It hurts to see the flash of pain that graces her features, but these are the words she needs to hear. This is the way I convince her. And it works.

And everyone is moving again.

I lose a little time I think, just letting the edges of the world blur as Sam and Dean and my mother create a bomb. The bomb I'm going to set off. I wonder if it will hurt...

Sam's strong hand latches onto mine then, his fingers twisting through mine like he's trying to find an answer hidden in the soft lines of my palm. He smiles down at me, but it looks as though he's holding back a scream, and I have to look away after a moment. I can't handle the pain that seems to radiate off of him, polluting the air with it's stench. And if Sam's guilt is palpable, Dean's is practically alive. It flows from his hand to mine as he presses the trigger firmly against my skin, making me tremble.

"Okay this is it," he says. "See ya on the other side? Probably sooner rather than later." I watch his mouth twitch slightly, failing to find even the semblance of a smile at his own attempted joke.

"Make it later," I say, trying to hold his gaze. He smiles, gripping my hand more tightly in his, not ready to let go.

The first kiss is a gentle press against my forehead, filled with the words he can't say. The second is softer, sweeter, unexpected, and full on the lips. It's over too soon, lingering just for a moment against my skin. It shows me a glimpse at what could've been. Wrong place, wrong time...

I long for a different time. A different place. I want to tell him that I wish things were different. I wish we'd met under different circumstances where kisses like that came early and often and weren't so full of pain and regret. I wish we could live in a place where darkness hadn't touched, or at least that we could be oblivious to the things that haunt our world. I want to tell him all of this, but he's already pulling away. And when he finally meets my eyes again, I see that our thoughts are the same. He knows all the things I want to say because, just for a moment, he saw them too. And he wanted them.

And now I can't think about any of it anymore because my mother is leaning over me and she isn't saying anything but I already know what she means and it breaks my heart in two.

"Mom, no," I whisper, knowing I can't changer her mind. And secretly, selfishly knowing that I don't want to change it. I want her here with me because I'm cold and I'm fading and I'm scared, so scared of what comes next and I don't want to do it alone. The thought sickens me, make me ache, but I see no remorse in my mother's eyes. Only love and comfort and all the things I've ever seen when I look at her. I hear the Winchesters as they try to argue with her, but she just brushes them off, her eyes never leaving mine.

"I will not leave you behind."

And then moments later, we're sitting on the cold floor together, her arms wrapped around me. She's smiling down at me and the tears keep coming and I know we don't have long but for some reason it still feels okay. Because I'm not alone. I can feel my mother's hair brush against me and I can hear the soft huff of her breath and I can smell the perfume that is somehow still lingering on her skin. It overpowers the smell of blood and sweat and everything else and for a moment I forget where we are. The distance between blinks is getting longer and my flickering light is growing dimmer, but before I fade completely, I hear the sweetest words, whispered like the last lines of a lullaby.

"I will always love you baby."

Let me know what you thought if you have time. Reviews are always appreciated, even if you just want to yell at me for being so angsty. Hey, at least I'm consistent. I've got a couple more shorter stories in the works, all equally depressing. So yeah, at least you've got that to look forward to =P. Thanks for reading!