[ Impact into Dean lasts bare seconds—even though there's a feral relish in feeling that same impact throw him off balance—before she's the third person being flung through the air. That part isn't surprising. Not after Geralt. Not after Sam. The point wasn't that it would be different, but every second and every chance had to be taken.
Not a thought she got, though, when the velocity of that back strike has her slamming into one very large, very sturdy, very not going to give rock face, and the weirdest thing happens. She feels the places her body slams; clothes rip on jagged crags, skin splitting, bones giving a warning bend, pain an electric crescendo everywhere, jarring, drowning red before everything is suddenly, violently, blindingly BLUE.
Warmth floods her body, even as Jo buffets, still in movement, from the rock to the ground, clouds of dirt getting in her mouth and nose.
She's coughing even as she feels the little orb, hot against the skin of her chest, shatter, harmless pieces falling out the bottom of her shirt. Disorienting clarity, like someone rang a bell straight through her head. She knows there isn't time to stay down, but even as she's getting up, willing her thoughts and vision to clear, she can hear Dean again. (Haunted eyes and rough voice, her hand on his cheek, and possibly still her blood on his.)
A protection spell. Not a free for all. But if something lethal were to go down...
Jo shoves it back. (He did it.) She has to. (He—) Away. Into her magically not broken bones, as she starts sprinting back.
There is no time to celebrate a fluke miracle when this isn't over. Everyone's converged on one point now, with Dean all caught up in the passive-restrain of Cas' hold, the mania of his expression, half-shielding the demon with his body, when Jo slides herself in with the two of them and Sam. Miracle of miracles, people are actually talking and not throwing punches finally, and even catching up mid-conversation; Jo looks around for where Ciri is now, among the other group of them. ]
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Not a thought she got, though, when the velocity of that back strike has her slamming into one very large, very sturdy, very not going to give rock face, and the weirdest thing happens. She feels the places her body slams; clothes rip on jagged crags, skin splitting, bones giving a warning bend, pain an electric crescendo everywhere, jarring, drowning red before everything is suddenly, violently, blindingly BLUE.
Warmth floods her body, even as Jo buffets, still in movement,
from the rock to the ground, clouds of dirt getting in her mouth and nose.
She's coughing even as she feels the little orb, hot against the skin of her chest, shatter, harmless pieces falling out the bottom of her shirt. Disorienting clarity, like someone rang a bell straight through her head. She knows there isn't time to stay down, but even as she's getting up, willing her thoughts and vision to clear, she can hear Dean again. (Haunted eyes and rough voice, her hand on his cheek, and possibly still her blood on his.)
But if something lethal were to go down...
Jo shoves it back. (He did it.) She has to. (He—)
Away. Into her magically not broken bones, as she starts sprinting back.
There is no time to celebrate a fluke miracle when this isn't over. Everyone's converged on one point now, with Dean all caught up in the passive-restrain of Cas' hold, the mania of his expression, half-shielding the demon with his body, when Jo slides herself in with the two of them and Sam. Miracle of miracles, people are actually talking and not throwing punches finally, and even catching up mid-conversation; Jo looks around for where Ciri is now, among the other group of them. ]