Thirteen - Sioux Falls, South Dakota

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Thirteen – Sioux Falls, South Dakota

The house smelled of death and blood, an all-too familiar scent for Jo Harvelle.

The smell was crawling up her nose and down her throat. It was poisoning her from inside. Everyone was dead, except for her: Charlie, Meg, Castiel, Jessica, Jody Mills, Claire Novak, and Alex Jones.

Jo was weak, beaten, battered, and worse for wear. In the house that was splattered with all kinds of blood, human, angel, and demon, she recounted the recent events in the back of her head. She'd watched as Not Sam and Not Dean had struck down each of her comrades, even Castiel.

It was in their merciless deaths that Jo knew that Sam and Dean weren't strong enough to fight the demons possessing them. If their angel couldn't help them break through, Jo certainly believed she couldn't get the job done. But I should try. Even if it's not worth two shits, They'd try, in their dying moments. And she meant everyone who was dead, or possessed, in the house.

"Well, well, one left," said Not Dean. Not Sam lingered behind him, both held murderous looks in their black eyes. The demons refused to show the Winchesters' true iris colors.

Everything about the demons in the brothers screamed different. They held the bodies they were possessing differently, with a dominant superiority. An air that reeked of arrogance and pride. The demons made the boys look even older and more traumatized.

"You want to take her, even out the score?" asked Not Sam, who tossed a knife nonchalantly in his hand. "Or have you had enough carnage?"

"You can never get enough of that."

Jo hung her head, but Not Dean picked it right back up with a gruff hand. Jo didn't want to look Not Dean in the black pits they called eyes, but she had no choice. He refused to let her look anywhere else. He pressed a sharp blade against her right cheek.

"You and I are gonna have some fun, princess," said Not Dean. Even his voice sounded nothing like Dean Winchester's. Everything looked wrong about this possessed man before her. "Unlike your pals, I'm gonna take my time. Get to know each other a little bit, infuriate good ole Dean-o who can see everything we do."

A sneer curled onto Jo's lips. "He can beat you. Sam can beat his demon too."

Not Dean chuckled. "That's what Castiel said, and look where that got him." Jo's head was turned, and she was forced to stare at the angel's bloody, tattered corpse. If Not Dean hadn't been diverted elsewhere, the angel would have been botched to pieces. "It's gonna get you to the same destination."

"What, Heaven? It'll be my second round." Jo spat in Not Dean's face, to which he shoved her down, and she landed on Charlie's bloody body. A dried, crusted, red smile across the redhead's neck greeted the blonde hunter. She normally wasn't queasy when it came to this stuff, but this was someone that she knew. That she fought alongside. That she saw get cut down right in front of her...

Jo Harvelle's stomach was in terrible knots.

"Oh, no, no. Your pretty face isn't going to Heaven, I'm not letting that happen. You see, none of you were ever going upstairs. You picked a fight with us and stuck your nose where it doesn't belong. For that, you get the finest rooms in Hell."

Jo gritted her teeth. Not Dean reached, grabbed the collar of her shirt, and hoisted her to her feet. Her body erupted into throbbing pain. With little struggle, she was pulled out of the carnage of the house, with Not Sam taking lead.

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