Jo would at this point; she'd roll on the slenderest hopes, the waving edge of the not yet fallen die. It's not a poker hand she could bluff into knowing, but they were over that, and there was too much of her blood scrubbed off, circling that drain, left in the sand, to let herself think they were now too far over whatever line they'd all been saying wasn't here yet.
It was here. There. Gone now.
She has to hold too still when Sam stands in front of her. Close. Absolutely innocuous, and some part of her wants to take several steps back, and she spends the seconds of his words ordering her muscles to relax, to stay relaxed. Like one could bludgeon relaxation by a chokehold. But it's that second thing after that he says that catches in her throat. I've got your back. This acknowledgment that she's not alone, and especially won't be alone in whatever they're about to do, whatever could happen. Again.
There's a wrinkle in expression. A wobble-press, repeat, to her lips. Then, she makes herself skip it. Focus on the words after. "It has to be."
Too much has happened. And it has to be worth it. There still has to be a way out.
"I should—" Jo gave a tip of her toward the doorway, letting her words trail off rather than repeating them. She needed to go do the one thing the world shouldn't dare ever need of her, and Dean Winchester needed more than anything in this world could ever stop her from trying to give him. Especially now. At any further added costs on top of all of this in the silence and scrapped away appearances around them.
no subject
It was here. There. Gone now.
She has to hold too still when Sam stands in front of her. Close. Absolutely innocuous, and some part of her wants to take several steps back, and she spends the seconds of his words ordering her muscles to relax, to stay relaxed. Like one could bludgeon relaxation by a chokehold. But it's that second thing after that he says that catches in her throat. I've got your back. This acknowledgment that she's not alone, and especially won't be alone in whatever they're about to do, whatever could happen. Again.
There's a wrinkle in expression. A wobble-press, repeat, to her lips.
Then, she makes herself skip it. Focus on the words after. "It has to be."
Too much has happened. And it has to be worth it. There still has to be a way out.
"I should—" Jo gave a tip of her toward the doorway, letting her words trail off rather than repeating them. She needed to go do the one thing the world shouldn't dare ever need of her, and Dean Winchester needed more than anything in this world could ever stop her from trying to give him. Especially now. At any further added costs on top of all of this in the silence and scrapped away appearances around them.