Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or original storyline to Supernatural, this is simply my geeky 'what if?'.

Note: Please give me feedback if you like or dislike it! Lack of feedback=lack of motivation to publish.

Blythewood, South Carolina

"Another." she slammed the shortened glass on the wood, it's bottom faced to the ceiling. A ring of whisky residue pooled against the polished surface as the bar tender swiped the glass away, pulling a clean one out, smearing the ring.

"Best slow down there girl," he condescended, filling the glass to the appropriate mark, "there's some boys here that will be on you right quick once they see how many you take."

Snatching the shot off the counter, she stared into it's honey color while she replied, "When they do, they'll turn right around and leave me alone."

Her hand brought the glass up to her lips, and with a flick of the wrist the honey flew down her throat with a burn.

He chuckled, wiping the bar down, "Why's that?"

She circled the glass in her hand, still looking down into it's now clear bottom.

"Do you ever wonder what color glass is?"

The bar tender paused to stare at her questioningly, "What'd you say now?"

"Glass," She repeated, her eyes trailing up to meet his, "what's it's color?"

He raised his eye brows, "It don't have no color darling, it's just glass."

She snorted, "Everything has a color."

"And we've arrived at too many." he commented.

"Nah, we haven't. This is a question worth asking, sir." she slurred.

"How so?"

Her dark amber eyes gazed focused onto his, "Color is how we subconsciously get the know how on what kind of energy something or someone has."

"Uh-huh" he leaned against the counter, sighing tiredly.

"Like this wood;" She tapped the glass against it, "brown. Stable, reliable; brown. You know that you can place things on it, and it'll stay there."

He clicked his tongue in his mouth, "What if it were red?"

She screwed up her face in confusion, "Like rosewood? That's still a brown, muddled with another color maybe but brown all the same."

"No, just red." he took the empty glass away from in front of her.

"Have you ever seen a red bar?" she asked rather expressively.

"Can't tell you I have darlin'." he chuckled.

"Exactly. 'Cause red is alarming, some people don't know how to react to it. When you see red you know there is danger, the good or bad kind." She chuckled and beat her flat palms against the table in a rhythm, "Another."

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, "No way."

She snorted again, staring him with a 'don't tell me what to do' glance.

"So tell me about some other colors," He started with a scratch of his balding grey head, "tell me about...blue."

"Blue is unpredictable, but also guiding. Calm one minute then crazy the next, but only trying to help you. I'll have another please." She twined a blonde curl to her index and middle fingers, running them in turn over her piece of hair.

"What about green?" he sighed, hoping to distract her from the desire of whiskey.

Her eyes smoldered, fixing on the grain of the bar.

He waited for her answer, thinking maybe she has just checked out for the night. Patience was a virtue mastered in his occupation.

"Darlin, you alright?" he prompted while thinking about calling her a cab.

"Green protects." She quickly answered, surprising him with her sudden lucidity. "Green reminds that there is always survival, no matter how black things get around you."

He nodded his head with relief that she was still with him, "So kinda like brown? It's a good color, steady."

Her eyes snapped up to his, a intensity behind them, "You would think wouldn't you? When you see those two colors on a person, you would think they reflect it. It's supposed to be that way, it's supposed to be simple, but what ever is simple in my life? Guess the color of the soul does not match the color of the clothes and I shouldn't think to expect it!"

Her voice started to rise, and his eye brows did the same, knowing that he had lost her again to the drunk mind.

"No matter how many times the black takes 'em, they returned, ready to fight the fight. And I-when they...gone, at least I had those colors, I always at least knew. I relied on him to return from hell, home or heaven. But hey-" she made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, "fourth time's a charm, right? Maybe the black finally got what it wanted."

There was a pause as he let her collect herself, breathing heavily now and blinking too often.

Bitting his lip, he decided to let that unintelligible rant slide, he had too much experience in asking a drunk mind what they meant or what had happened. Usually ended in a call to the men in blue.

"I think the expression is 'third time's a charm'."

Looking up at him, her face wore a stunned expression as if she forgot he was there. Which was likely, he thought.

Then she started cracking up, which made him backtrack a bit.

Her laughter filled the quiet bar, echoing and intensifying. He laughed quietly with her despite himself, shaking his head.

"I think you're right." She smiled widely when she calmed down, water welling in her eyes, "I've had too much."

He nodded, thankful for her awareness.

She slid off the stool, a short drop to the floor. She grabbed her jacket off the hook hanging just below the counter and reached inside, pulling out a money clip.

Depositing a bill on the bar she smiled at him again, "Keep the change, please."

"You got a ride home or someone you trust to walk ya darlin'?" He asked before she could turn away.

Slipping into her grey jacket, she smirked, "I'm walkin' and I trust myself."

She turned and headed to the doors, getting curious looks from the regulars stationed around the bar.

"You take care of yourself, Joanna." He called to her.

"I try to."

"Kevin-" she knocked over something as she came in, after flicking the light switch with no avail.

"Kevin the lights are all screwy."


"Hey, whats up with-"

"Yeah, I'm not sure what's wrong." his tone of voice immediately sobered her mind. Her eyes adjusted and she saw him, standing a few paces in front of her, on the other side of the second bed.

Beside him, another figure, it's hand around Kevin's neck.

Staying silent, she drew the long knife from inside her jacket and leveled it to her leg.

"You gonna talk, or are we playin' the quiet game and pretend you're not here?" She boisterously called out into the room.

A snigger caught her ear from her right, "Someone has enjoyed the drink tonight." a deep voice countered.

"It's a good night for it." She turned slightly in that direction, keeping Kevin and his unknown captor in sight.

"Who's the condescending dick I might have he pleasure to speak to?"

"It doesn't matter really." he replied with a chuckle, "if I say my name you won't know it, so it'll speak more to you to tell you that Crowley assigned me to find you."

At his name she stiffened, gripping the handle of the blade tighter. So it was demons she was dealing with.

Lucky she had it then.

"I didn't know I was so important. Tell Crowley I'm so flattered." her voice acted.

He finally stepped into her view, out from the motel bathroom. He looked normal; nothing but ordinary; dark smoothed hair, jeans, coat, and black eyes. Completely unfamiliar; no guilt from stabbing included.

"Don't be." He retorted, "You were nothing special-that is until we noticed the prophet of the Lord hiding out-" his hand formed a gun, pointing at her, with another step forward, "with you." the 'gun' shot directly at her face.

Too close too fast, her body was still catching on to the sober of her brain. Time to stall was what she needed.

He continued, an arm's length away, "We were just keeping tabs on Dean's bitch-"

Jo snorted, "I'm not his bitch."

"Weren't," He cut in aggressively, taking another step toward her, "You forgot the past tense there."

"Careful." her voice dropped a tone, "I've been nice so far, but way you've talked seems you want a fight."

He kept his eyes locked to hers, a smile stretched wide.

"It won't be much of one. Besides, you're no Winchester, are you?"

Her mind blurred, she saw nothing but his thin lips give way to those grotesquely yellowed squares of the body he was riding. Maybe a smoker.

"Nope. None of those 'round here," she snapped back into it, pushing that anger to the back of her mind, "but hey you gotchaself lucky, cause heeeere's a Harvelle!" She announced herself playfully.

The demon only showed more of those clouded yellows, "Those don't seem to stick around either, do they?"

"Alright pal, mind if we skip getting under my skin and get to business?"

"See I would, but I actually had the pleasure of meeting your father, and your mother, for that matter- down unda." He flicked his fingers to the ground with attitude.

Jo said nothing, but clenched her jaw and glared.

"See, I met them on the special occasion of their reunion; Bill had given up being on the rack recently, and Ellen well, she was freshly delivered especially for him."

Teeth ground in her mouth, lips flattened, her fist swung.

She hit his flesh, he hit the ground.

Her body stumbled forward into the punch, still disoriented; the room spun. Her brain recognized that she was going to fall over too, until someone caught her shoulders and threw her backward.

Back slammed against the wall, she then gathered that this was the other demon, now punching her in the stomach. She sent a sloppy elbow to their face, which he/she caught, and twisted the arm painfully. A scream sounded from her own throat.

Suddenly remembering the blade she had kept a death grip on, she swung it around quickly and sliced their face.

Blood spilled from the gash and the demon let go of her with a yelp and growl.

"This is killing me," Jo panted, blade held defensively between them, "are you a guy or a girl?"

The demon only snarled in reply.

Behind them, Jo saw the other demon crack Kevin's face against the nightstand, effectively turning the kid's lights out as his body crumpled to the floor.

He turned, joining his companion with a smile on his face, focused now on Jo.

One at a time, she thought to herself, even as the room wobbled, taking a calming breath. Sliding her hand back on her belt to her Dad's sheathed nine-inch bowie-knife for her own backup as they formed.

Before she could remark that three was a party, they charged her.

He got hit first, Jo grabbed any part of him and threw it against the wall, acting quickly she gave her Dad's knife a temporary sheath in the demon's arm through bone, pinning him there with a screech.

Jo whirled around but was too slow to block the punch to her face from he/she. Her inebriated body reacted entirely and crashed to the floor.

The demon was on her immediately, but she flipped with the cursed knife; blade up. They stopped just before impact, but Jo grabbed the back of their head, and thrust, through the underside of the jaw. Blood poured on her chest and throat from the wound, hefty and hot.

As the soul of the demon and human flickered inside of the body, Jo smirked. "I guess I'll never know."

One demon d-

Her own thought interrupted by a searing pain through her left thigh. She screamed, and threw the body away from her. Sitting up to see the other demon, handle on her father's knife, which ran straight down through her flesh.

Throwing a fist to his face, he recoiled just long enough for Jo to kick him with her right leg. It caught him right in the hip, and his meat-suit pounded on the floor a little ways away from her.

She turned, pulled the cursed blade from the dead body, and crawled with significant pain toward the demon.

He stood up before she could get to him, and kicked her in the face.

The room spun again, but her grip kept on the blade as her body flopped on the floor. She struggled to get up quickly, but she was still too sluggish.

His foot slammed down on her wrist; she cried out. He kicked the blade from her hand, sending agonizing shock waves through her arm.

Reaching down with her other arm, she yanked her dad's knife out of her own thigh and impaled his calf. He roared, and kicked her in the stomach.

"Bitch!" Bending swiftly down, he grabbed a handful of blonde hair, yanking her up to look her in the face, before smashing his fist into it.

Her head spun, her blood splattered the floor, and she laughed hoarsely.

"Cunt!" He jerked her still laughing face up again, "You fucking crazy-"

An awful noise gargled his throat, a slicing through the back of his neck had him choking on his own words, his grip dropped from her hair. The lights flared inside the body for a moment as she stared into his eyes, still laughing.

The body slumped forward, now empty.

She stopped her laughter and slumped backward, feeling the same.

Kevin took the place of the demon, bending over her, panicked. Wide eyes, nostrils flared, mouth open and heaving breath.

"It's all good Kevin," She offered a swollen, bloodied smile, "Nice hustle."

"Wh-what? Jo...there's - there's so much blood."

"I can smell it."

"Are you still drunk?" his voice climbed higher on the range.

"A bit."

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

Her hand shot up and gripped his shirt, "Don't take my car."

He easily broke her hold and her arm fell back, without control, to the floor as he raced off, out of her sight and mind.

Staring up at the ceiling, relaxed; thoughts came to her mind which before would have come unwilling.

Thoughts of her mother's dark blue jean jacket, Bobby's blue hat, Ash's red plaid vest, Castiel's kaki trench coat, and Dean; his green eyes.

Her vision was suddenly clouded by what looked like glass.

She wondered for the second time that night what color it was considered to be.