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At another time, a little later than the first time, the Cooper farm finds itself presented with yet another carload of newcomers.

At least these don't apparently plan to stay -- and certainly wouldn't seem to have close bonds, the way they're all three bitching at each other, or the way the car doors slam in order as they get out and immediately stalk in different directions.

[Tag under subthreads of who you're tagging, plz? <33]

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Dean, actually, they will find, has a gun on both of them.

And a tiny hint of a smirk.

"Just everyone sit the fuck down, a'ight? Jo .. either Jo ... you got any handy tips for tellin' which is the shapeshifter?"

Fuck, what he wouldn't give for Sam right now.

"No demons yet. But really I'm looking to make a rug if you keep advancing on me."

She wasn't looking away. And she didn't snort slightly when her double rounded on Dean for not calling. She'd remember to punch Sam, but she hadn't gotten around to Dean.....not with all the Sam shit.

"Asswipe, I'm still in the same clothes." Jo shot the ground where the girl was walking. Only an inch in front of her foot. "Be a peach and tell me how the fuck you got to this apocalypse, princess?"

"Holy water. If a demon drinks it, they get PMS cramps."

You'd think that having a shotgun shell pounded into the ground right at her feet would at least get the blonde to stop walking. And, normally, you'd be right. But this is Jo Harvelle. She doesn't back down from anyone; human or otherwise.

"Fucking lightning storm over San Antonio. One minute I'm bumping back the goddamn things that go bump in the night, and the next thing I'm fucking here. And you shoot at me again, lady, and you're better not miss, because I will kick the crap out of you."

Beat.

"Dean, put the stupid gun away before you shoot your other brain with it."

Edited 2008-07-02 06:37 (UTC)

They're both fucking acting like Jo Harvelle.

They're possibly going to drive him insane.

He drops both guns to his sides -- they're not helping -- and uses the backswing of the same movement to bring out his hipflask and flick its lid. Yeah, it's mostly alcoholic, but it's laced with holy water -- trick he learned from Bobby.

Flick. Flick.

"Great. Now I smell like Impala ass crack leather and alcohol. Thanks, fucktard."

She doesn't flinch from it, but she frowns. And when nothing happens to the other, Jo's gun lowers half an inch.

"You either aren't from our world, or you are. Which would be worse. I really don't want another one of you, again. Who's the first hunter I lost that I didn't get over in a week?"

There's an almost identical look of disgust on Jo's face, and she debates on drawing her knife and giving Dean a thigh wound to remember her by, but opts not to because the other Jo, who is not screaming and melting like she should be, is still armed.

"Rick. He was my first."

And there is genuine regret in that tone.

Dean is frowning from one to the other, intent.

"Neither of you two's a man, right?"

He's thinking of parallel-universe-him -- the chick one. And from the glance he throws Jo-who-he-drove-here, she should be too. It's a pointed glance.

Or maybe it just means he thinks she's a man.

Jo would glare at that, but she just ignores him this time, staring instead at the girl. It's the regretful tone more than anything that causes her to frown.

The gun is more loosely held now.

"When was the first time you got off or outside of Earth?"

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