As the first slam of the shock, like a punch, wears back, it's replaced with an anger and kind of fierceness everyone around here knows to stay on their toes and away from. Even the wizard and the archangel. It throbs almost violently through all of her as Jo pulls back suddenly and her hands find his shoulders, maybe just as hard as her chin had been and it's a miracle she doesn't hit upside of the head, and only shakes his shoulders. Hard.
It's hard to put it all together, and she doesn't want to, but she hasn't been able to get Merlin's words out of her head. The futility of trying to ignore him when he's usually right. Capable of being very flawed and socially graceless, but right.
The futility of trying to ignore when he's usually right, when being right, if all of them weren't, would be like stabbing herself too deep.
It goes into her grip, and the words that fall out, so much more like daggers, than anything like the hushed order from a second ago. Like the truth has to be punishment, if this was answer before she even got there, and if she's alone, alone, alone in this, again. Like she has been since coming her. Since Anna, and then Dean arrived. And she had been for too many minutes of too many hours tonight.
"I've had exactly two people in my immediate family. Two." This is emphasized with a shake. "And one of them is very dead." For so long. "And one of them is very gone." She only nearly doesn't say mostly dead. She lives by the skin of her teeth against the hope that every person isn't right and her mother isn't dead, even if she is gone, has been, for so long, might be forever.
"I've never had siblings." Hunters. Family. So many uncles and aunts. But no siblings. No friends her age even, until she managed to reach near to the age of her aunt's and uncles, and they became friends and partners instead. Not. Not -- "Not a sister. Not a brother." She won't let herself hesitate on that word, even when her heart founders in her. With a real kind of fear she never feels anymore. Maybe never before this way.
"But I swear to God--" It's gritted and sharp, and shaken in "--if you do that, again, I will bring you back, myself, to kill you, myself."
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It's hard to put it all together, and she doesn't want to, but she hasn't been able to get Merlin's words out of her head.
The futility of trying to ignore him when he's usually right. Capable of being very flawed and socially graceless, but right.
The futility of trying to ignore when he's usually right, when being right, if all of them weren't, would be like stabbing herself too deep.
It goes into her grip, and the words that fall out, so much more like daggers, than anything like the hushed order from a second ago. Like the truth has to be punishment, if this was answer before she even got there, and if she's alone, alone, alone in this, again. Like she has been since coming her. Since Anna, and then Dean arrived. And she had been for too many minutes of too many hours tonight.
"I've had exactly two people in my immediate family. Two." This is emphasized with a shake. "And one of them is very dead." For so long. "And one of them is very gone." She only nearly doesn't say mostly dead. She lives by the skin of her teeth against the hope that every person isn't right and her mother isn't dead, even if she is gone, has been, for so long, might be forever.
"I've never had siblings." Hunters. Family. So many uncles and aunts. But no siblings. No friends her age even, until she managed to reach near to the age of her aunt's and uncles, and they became friends and partners instead. Not. Not -- "Not a sister. Not a brother." She won't let herself hesitate on that word, even when her heart founders in her. With a real kind of fear she never feels anymore. Maybe never before this way.
"But I swear to God--" It's gritted and sharp, and shaken in "--if you do that, again, I will bring you back, myself, to kill you, myself."