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Authors' Note – We own nothing but at least ten plausible ways to #Bring Back Jo.
Another collab between Silverspoon and WelshWitch1011.
WARNING – Contains spoilers and dialogue from episodes 6:21 and 6:22, 'Let It Bleed' and 'The Man Who Knew Too Much'.
'Stem The Flow'
Part Two
x-x-x
Dean maintained a vigil over the monitors beside the bed, following the lines on the screen as they tracked and traced Jo's dwindling heartbeat. The slow and steady drip of blood through the IV port was almost hypnotic, and he found himself staring at the bright red liquid whilst it ebbed through the tangle of lines.
Sam and Bobby sat at the back of the room, neither one knowing quite what to say or do under such an impossible circumstance and both realising that Dean would find no comfort in any words they could offer. He merely sat watching helplessly, as history repeated itself.
It was now only a matter of time and so Dean sat in a faithful watch at Jo's bedside, his eyes devoid of light or life as she grew weaker. He traced his fingertips across her wrist, sometimes entangling her cool fingers with his own, and other times wrapping his hand around hers as if his will alone could somehow wake her. The doctor's prognosis was bleak; Jo had lost too much blood and the damage to her internal organs was irreparable. Despite the fluids, blood transfusions and medications coursing through her body, nothing more could be done.
Bobby stood from his seat and made his way to the door of the ICU room in order to study Jo, who lay with her hair fanned out against the pillows. Her chest rose and fell with her slow, shallow breaths.
"You need anything, son?" Bobby asked quietly, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezing it gently.
Dean shook his head, his eyes remaining trained on the figure in the bed as he replied in a hoarse whisper, "No. Thanks, Bobby."
The older man nodded, exchanging a glance with Sam before he exited the room and began a pensive lap of the hallways.
"This is all my fault," Dean berated himself, jaw clenching against the barrage of emotions he felt may overcome him.
Sam regarded his brother with sadness, surprised to find Dean swiping tears from his cheek with the back of his hand.
"Dean, it's not. You... you couldn't have known Crowley would do something like this," Sam argued, looking toward Jo and shaking his head in disbelief at her very presence.
Dean remained unconvinced by his brother's words of comfort. The reality of the situation finally became too much and he blinked through a haze of tears that cascaded from his eyes.
"I can't do this again, Sammy," he said with a bitter toss of his head.
It had taken Jo's fatal injury in Carthage for Dean to acknowledge his true feelings for her; as a consequence, the pain of her loss had been that much greater knowing that things might have been so very different- that perhaps she could have been the one. To have had her back again, even for such a short time, and to have held her in his arms with the illusion of a second chance, now only made the ache in Dean's heart that much greater.
Whilst Sam wanted nothing more than to ease his brother's pain, he knew that there was little he could offer in the way of comfort. Words seemed so inadequate and, with nothing to be done to alter matters, all Sam could possibly do was to be there when Dean's walls eventually tumbled down.
"She doesn't deserve any of this," Dean whispered, rubbing at his face with the palm of his hand, "how could Cas do this to her?"
Sam had been wondering the very same himself since their arrival at the hospital. After all the brothers had been through with the angel, he could not begin to fathom how betrayal had come to Castiel with such apparent ease. And so in response to Dean's query, Sam simply shrugged.
"At least this time there'll be a body," Dean choked out, surprisingly managing to hold himself together as he uttered the unthinkable words. Sam glared at his brother, and let out a hiss of surprise.
"How can you even talk like that?" demanded Sam, utterly disgusted by Dean's lack of belief in Jo. "After everything she did for us..."
"And I let her down again..." Dean roared, both the volume and venom of his tone causing Sam to reel back in shock. A nurse who had been in the process of passing by the room suddenly poked her head around the doorway, shooting an accusatory glance at Dean before scoping the vicinity to ensure all was well. Relatively satisfied, she bestowed a final disapproving look upon Dean before scuttling on her way.
"Crowley brought her back as a distraction for me," said Dean, in the tone of a broken and burning man. Sam swallowed, the gesture bringing a lump to his own throat, and focused his eyes upon Jo's small form. Her complexion was pallid, and her lips tinged with a faint blue, just the way they had been upon their very last meeting. Sam scooted closer to Jo's bedside, settled himself in the chair opposing his brother, and then reached for the woman's free hand in order to grasp it within his own.
"Why did you never tell me?" Sam asked quietly, his eyes downcast and focused upon Jo's slim fingers that were now molded against his own. "Why couldn't you tell me how you felt about her?"
Dean flinched at the undercurrent of Sam's tone and busied himself with brushing his fingertips up and down Jo's arm.
"Not open for discussion right now," Dean snapped, furious enough at himself for never having voiced his feelings, without his brother pointing out yet another way he had failed Jo.
Sam huffed in mild annoyance, focusing on the monitors as he caught Jo's heart rate dropping and then rising once more. Dean stared at the screen, his own breathing stilling as he watched the numbers flicker, causing a red light on the machine to blink alarmingly.
A nurse hurried into the room, casting a glance at Jo as she first checked the electrodes beneath her gown and then resettled the oxomiter probe on her finger. Once satisfied that her patient was in no immediate danger, the nurse awarded Sam and Dean a sympathetic smile and left the room as quickly as she had appeared.
"How could I tell you Sammy, when I couldn't even tell her?" Dean demanded, although his tone was not at all hostile now, merely defeated.
"Why couldn't you tell her?" Sam pressed. It was evident now to him that Dean's feeling for Jo ran deeper than either of them had ever contemplated, and so he was left wondering why his brother had ever allowed such a chance at prospective happiness to pass him by.
"I didn't tell her because... I didn't want her to get hurt," Dean confessed, laughing in despair at the irony of his words, "I figured she was safer away from me." He inhaled sharply, rubbing his hand over his face as he found himself revisiting those few final moments in Carthage, moments he knew he would soon be living all over again.
Sam remained mute, unsure as to how to respond. He knew through experience that there was nothing he could say to ease Dean's conscience, guilt or pain, and so he simply said nothing for fear of exacerbating any of them. No longer able to stand the tension in the room, Sam debated following Bobby to search out a coffee that he really did not need or want. However, before his decision was entirely made, Dean rose from his chair and laid Jo's arm down by her side.
"Stay with her Sammy," he said quietly as though Jo were merely sleeping and he was afraid to wake her, "I gotta... I just need a few minutes."
With sympathetic understanding in his eyes, Sam watched his brother leave the room, and resumed stroking the back of Jo's hand in his place.
It was only a matter of time now.
x-x-x
The sound of someone clearing their throat wrenched Dean from his own thoughts and with a sigh he opened his eyes, expecting to find Bobby gazing at him. He blanched when instead he saw Lisa, one arm encircled around Ben's shoulders, the two of them staring at him in earnest.
"How's your friend?" Ben asked, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip and his eyes creasing hopefully at the corners. Strain was evident upon the young boy's face but Dean could not spare even an ounce of sympathy now as all was reserved for the woman who lay dying in the cold iron bed.
"Not so great," Dean replied, watching the boy's expression darken upon receipt of the news. "You did good back there, Ben." He reached out and patted the boy's shoulder. Ben merely shot him a watery smile, traumatised by the day's events, but also missing having Dean in his everyday life. Despite his mother's apparent issues with Dean's lifestyle, to Ben he was a hero and nothing Lisa said could persuade him otherwise.
"Hey sweetie, you want to go and grab a soda?" Lisa stated rather than asked, digging in her pocket and handing Ben a few dollar bills before he had chance to reply.
Ben sighed and drifted hesitantly from his mother's side, glancing back down the hall to watch her plant her hands on her hips in preparation for what he anticipated to be an angry confrontation.
Dean watched the spark of anger ignite behind Lisa's eyes and he sighed wearily, genuinely repentant for the pain he had caused her yet finding it difficult to focus on anything but the woman fighting for her life.
"I hope your friend gets better, Dean, I really do," she stated as she looked up to hold his elusive gaze, "but I need to know... was that the truth? Did you come to me because you had nowhere else to go?"
Her tone rose just enough to catch the attention of the RN at the nurse's station, who shook her head in disapproval and gestured toward the patients' rooms. Lisa shot the woman an apologetic smile but made no move to back away from Dean and the fight she had started.
Dean shook his head, realising that he owed Lisa the truth. After the unhappiness and danger he had brought into her life, it was the very least he could do. When Dean had arrived at Lisa's door he had genuinely sought happiness. He had coveted the normal, suburban existence that she offered for so long, and he thought he cared about her enough to seek it by her side. In hindsight, he knew his decision had been rash and that the loss of Sam and the events of Carthage mere months before made his actions seem like those of a lost, desperate man.
"I cared about you and Ben, Lisa, I still do," he replied, "and I'm sorry that I hurt you, you've gotta believe me. I never wanted that."
"Yeah, well you did it," she retorted evenly, finding all final traces of sympathy for the man before her dissipating, "I put up with a lot, Dean, things other women would have left you for. I don't know what your issues are, but your relationship with your brother is beyond codependent. It's just not healthy. What woman wants to compete for her boyfriend's attention with his brother? And all this hunting crap..."
"That crap means something, Lisa. We save people's lives. Just like Jo did for Ben today," he countered, angered by the dismissive shrug she tossed in his direction.
"He wouldn't have been in danger if it wasn't for you and Sam," she snapped back, shaking her head and laughing without amusement, "you brought all this into our lives, Dean, all of it. And now I find out that I wasn't even the one you wanted to be with."
"Lisa, I..." he faltered, "I care about you, I wanted to be with you and Ben. I just..."
"We were all that was left Dean," she said simply, her tone conveying the truth she knew to be threaded within her words, "and you 'care' about me? You care about me, but you're in love with her."
Dean faltered, unable to defend himself against the truth and finding now that he did not wish to. Instead, he ran one hand through his mussed hair, and glared down at Lisa. When he had arrived on her doorstep all those months ago, alone, broken and grieving, he had done so for a multitude of reasons. It was true that he had nowhere left to go; without Sam he could never have stood to face Bobby's house and the memories contained within, or to hit the road in the Impala once more without his ever present passenger and figurative partner in crime. Also, and perhaps most importantly, Dean had promised Sam, and a vow between brothers was one not lightly broken.
Sam had spoken with Dean's best interests at heart when he had insisted that he seek out Lisa and claim his slice of 'apple pie'. However, neither brother could have guessed that Dean would discover that hunting flowed through his veins like blood, and without it he felt a lack of purpose in the world that almost prevented him from functioning.
"I don't expect you to understand what happened between me and Jo..." Dean began, stepping around his words with care. However, the flare of Lisa's nostrils alerted him too late that he had already struck a nerve. Lisa closed the gap between them in an instant, stabbing her finger into Dean's chest in an accusatory manner.
"How can I understand anything when you never let me in Dean?" Lisa demanded in a hiss, "even when you were mourning your brother, you never really spoke to me about it. You never opened up, just drank until it didn't hurt anymore, and no matter how hard I tried, how much I told you, I could never get you to let me into your past."
Dean appeared to mull over her words and then he glanced fleetingly through the doorway of Jo's room, catching the back of Sam's head as he sat at her side.
Looking up into Lisa's expectant face, Dean found the words spewing from his lips before he had a chance to consider their impact.
"Because you don't belong there," he stated, never once uncertain as he delivered the truth, "you don't belong in my past, Lisa... and... and I was wrong to think you could be in my future."
He took a step forwards, ignoring the incredulous glare she shot him as she narrowed her eyes in rage, "That's it? That's all you've got to say to me?"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I hurt you... I'm sorry I hurt Ben, he's a great kid. But you and me, we're a wrong fit, Lisa. You don't belong in my world anymore than I do in yours. And I know you hate me right now but I did care about you, and I'll always be sorry for what I've done to you both. If you ever need anything..."
Lisa interrupted him and held her hand out to halt his speech, "We don't need anything from you. Just stay the hell out of our lives."
He nodded in understanding, running his hand over the back of his neck as he mentally prepared himself to return to Jo's room.
"Take care of yourself, okay?" he said with a sincerity he meant. He hazarded a step past Lisa toward the ICU bay as he explained, "I just... I need to be with her right now."
"Fine," Lisa replied, her tone icy now to match her countenance as she stood before Dean, evaluating him with her gaze, "but you know that you're just setting yourself up for another tragedy. Another heartbreak to add to your long list, Dean."
Dean cast a final backward glance at Lisa, taking in the appearance of the demure and generally poised brunette now looking so riled and plain miserable as a consequence of Dean simply being. Lisa had never slotted into the hunting lifestyle the way Dean had hoped; they both knew that she had tried her best as she did in every endeavor she approached, but Lisa was simply too far the opposite of everything that summed up Dean Winchester.
Once upon a time, when he was a younger man in his early twenties, speeding past county line after county line in the passenger seat of his father's Impala, Dean's thoughts had often turned to Lisa. Upon their first meetings those many years ago, she had been wild, impulsive, and ready to sink her teeth into life. However, situations had altered as they often do with the passage of time and, when Dean had crossed paths with Lisa Braeden again, she had been transformed into a mother with a house, a steady job, and a lifestyle that Dean had finally come around to craving. Lisa had always represented an ideal to Dean; the worst case of the grass being greener on the other side that he thought he may ever have come across.
But living that ideal had proven an entirely different concept to wanting it, and he quickly found that all the things that accounted for the fabric of his life, where the things Lisa opposed. He had tried to become the man she wanted him to be, forfeiting not just hunting, but also the relationships with his oldest friends and, more importantly, his brother.
Dean could forgive Lisa's misguided and heavy handed attempts to mold him into the perfect suburban boyfriend, yet he knew he would never forgive the disdain with which she had treated Sam. In fact, Dean speculated that perhaps the reason he had slipped so easily into the role of surrogate father to Ben was that he had spent the majority of his life looking out for Sam, acting as both older brother and father figure in John's absence.
He had sought happiness with Lisa and her son, always silencing that nagging voice in his head that told him he should not be there. Of course he had paid even less attention to his heart, something he realised he had been guilty of for years.
It seemed that Dean had developed an unfortunate habit of ignoring his feelings until it were quite literally too late. With this in mind, Dean turned away from Lisa and began the arduous walk back to Jo's bedside, aware that in his wake he left a broken woman.
x-x-x
So, Dean kept his vigil, and his family had long since given up trying to coax him away from it.
"Got to admit," Dean murmured, propping his head in his free hand whilst his other gripped Jo's fingers furiously, "Crowley certainly got me good this time."
He slid his hand up and down her arm in a gesture of comfort, terrified by the cooling of her skin and the now weak and irregular pulse that met his fingertips. He found himself committing her face to memory, taking in the curve of her cheekbones and the fan of dark blonde lashes against her cheek.
Jo Harvelle had haunted his dreams since Carthage. Sometimes appearing to him in a cruel hoax of a life where her vivacious smile lulled him into believing that she was real. Other dreams of her rapidly became nightmares, and Dean was watching her slip away in his arms over and over again, never having gotten the chance to tell her that she was the one- that if he was ever to be truly happy, it would have been with her.
Dean refused to let her go this time without telling her how much she meant to him. He was not sure if she could hear him in her unconscious state, but as he bent down over her body and whispered his confession in her ear, he convinced himself that his words had reached her heart.
He ran the back of his hand across her face, noting how her lips were parted gently in slumber and on impulse he pressed a kiss against them, no longer caring that his tears were flowing.
Dean sat back in his seat, grasping her hand once again as he continued to wait, the terror building within him as he realised that their time for parting was imminent.
A soft swishing sound drew his attention to the doorway and, as Dean's gaze befell the man in the rumpled suit and trench coat, his upper lip curled back in a fierce snarl.
"What do you want?" he seethed, his eyes wide as he contemplated the gall of the angel who had betrayed him in the very worst sense.
Castiel took a step forward, his tone calm and even as he began, "Dean, listen..."
Dean interjected before another syllable could pass the angel's lips, "What can you possibly have to say? She'll be dead within hours."
"I'm sorry," Cas whispered and, just for the briefest of moments, Dean believed him. However, he could not bring himself to be moved by any shred of remorse the angel felt.
"I don't care," he growled, his head shaking slowly from side to side as his eyes remained locked upon Cas' face, which was twisted into a grimace of displeasure. Dean's watery stare drifted back to Jo, pale and yet still beautiful, as he found himself finishing without thought, "It's too little too late."
Nodding in understanding and possible acceptance, Cas hazarded a step towards the bed, before settling himself in the seat that Sam had previously occupied.
"How could you do that to her, Cas?" Dean demanded, his tone conveying his disbelief, "she was your friend."
Castiel stared at the woman in the bed and then cast a pensive glance back at Dean who was glaring with unbridled fury.
"Please Cas, please tell me you didn't have a hand in this..." Dean demanded, refusing to believe that someone he had trusted and looked upon as a friend and ally could do something so despicable.
Castiel shook his head and turned to regard Dean. "No. I did not know Crowley was going to involve Jo in his... distraction," he stood from his chair, and approached her bedside, frowning as he peered down at her. She looked oddly fragile and Cas found himself disconcerted by this. "I would not have brought her back to you," he stated, his tone now tinged with regret, "not like this."
Dean narrowed his eyes, his mind reeling as he thought of the alternate reality he and Sam had awoken in only weeks before.
"Wait, you did that? You brought Jo and Ellen back?" his eyes darted furtively around the room as he began to piece together events, "their being alive again had nothing to do with the Titanic not sinking, you brought them back on purpose."
Castiel bowed his head in affirmation, watching Dean's expression change to one of curiosity rather than anger. "You were my friend Dean. I wanted you to be happy. Jo and Ellen meant a lot to you, and Sam."
Dean seemed skeptical of his explanation and he arched an eyebrow in suspicion, "That's it? That's why you brought them back?"
Castiel was growing tired of the conversation and he regarded Dean impatiently. "She is the one, is she not?" he countered, watching Dean's face fall as he cast a glance toward Jo.
"Why are you here, Cas? You come to gloat?" Dean asked, busying himself with enclosing Jo's hand within his own as he checked the monitors for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"I am not here for you," Castiel replied, holding his hand over Jo's forehead, "I am here for her."
"Meaning?" Dean demanded, his voice inflected with the slightest glimmer of hope.
Cas ignored the question and, as he stood with his palm poised over Jo, a brilliant white light seeped from his fingertips and into her skin. Dean found himself holding his breath.
"She'll wake soon," Cas promised with half a glance at Dean, who rose from his seat with a reverent expression upon his face, as he watched Jo's pulse rise to a normal level on the monitor above her head.
Dean struggled for breath for several seconds, his chest heaving just a little as he pushed down the sobs that threatened to tear from his throat should he allow them. Jo would live. The words permeated Dean's mind and left him winded, as joy, gratitude and blinding rage swept through him like a tornado.
"Thank you," Dean choked out, still unable to meet Cas' gaze. Instead, he watched Jo, his heart fluttering as the fingers of her left hand twitched against the sheet. Jo would live.
"I wish this changed anything," the hunter finally managed, forcing himself now to raise his eyes to the face of the angel, who peered back at Dean stoically.
"I know. So do I," was the reply as Cas began to move towards the open doorway, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, "I just wanted to fix what I could."
Cas had barely crossed the threshold into the corridor before Dean's voice resounded again, cold and almost commanding.
"There's one more thing you could do for me."
x-x-x
"You're sure he wasn't just yanking your chain again?" Bobby demanded, glancing over furtively at Dean who was sitting beside Jo's bed, her hand nestled in his own.
Sam shook his head, smiling in reassurance at Dean, "No, Cas wouldn't do that, Bobby."
Bobby shrugged, muttering under his breath about the many things they had all assumed Castiel 'wouldn't do' and just how wrong they had been proven.
"She's gonna wake up," Dean stated, leaving no room for negotiation, "so just sit your ass down."
Bobby shot Dean a mildly irritable glare before he obeyed and sat down in the chair next to Sam. The next few minutes passed in silence then Bobby began tapping his foot against the floor, folding his arms across his chest as he stared around the room.
He continued on, oblivious to the irritated expressions both brothers wore as the repetitive tapping drove them to distraction.
"Bobby!" Dean snapped, gesturing to his foot which was still drumming an absent beat against the ground.
"Seriously, dude..." Sam agreed.
"I wasn't doing nothing," Bobby defended, beginning to become more and more agitated and their conversation rapidly descended into exasperated bickering.
Through a haze of voices, Jo began to claw her way back to consciousness, and her eyelids fluttered open. Peering uncertainly around the room, she took in the welcome sight of her friends and then turned her head to the side to see who had such a firm hold on her hand.
"Guys?" she said softly, swallowing against the dryness of her throat as she tried to catch their attention through their squabbling, "guys?"
When her second attempt to rouse them from their 'spirited discussion' failed, Jo lifted her head from the pillow and tried an altogether less delicate approach.
"HEY!"
She winced as the action made her cough, yet all three men turned instantly in her direction and a sudden hush fell.
"Jo..." three male voices, trembling with varying degrees of emotion declared in a perfect unison that caused Jo to snort with laughter. Dean, Sam and Bobby exchanged abashed glances, before they threw themselves across the room and each enveloped Jo in their arms. They talked all at once, the clamour of their voices rising in pitch and volume.
"Pretty sure people are trying to die in peace round here," Jo joked, lowering her tone and smiling as Bobby squeezed her into one final, paternal hug before pulling back to regard her.
"Not funny," Dean replied, shaking his head, his mouth refusing to close fully as he drank in the sight of Jo Harvelle sitting before them. Admittedly, she looked a little worse for wear, but the apple of her cheeks was beginning to flush with a little more colour now, and her eyes were alive with their familiar light. Dean inclined his face towards heaven and whispered a quiet word of thanks.
"Almost lost you there," Sam observed, perching on the side of the bed at Jo's side and grinning at her.
"Can't get rid of me that easily- twice," quipped Jo, ignoring the way her voice cracked and wobbled in the middle of her sentence. Dean could tell that she was beyond freaked out by the current situation and yet doing her utmost to hide it.
Jo felt Dean's eyes on her and she turned to him. He stared back at her, unblinking, and a beaming smile suddenly broke out across his face as he leant forwards and pressed a kiss to her forehead, repeating the gesture on her cheek before he pulled her back into an embrace.
Sam cleared his throat and dug Bobby in the ribs. "You know, I could really use a soda," he declared, frowning inwardly at his lame excuse- the only one his brain had been able to formulate operating under exhaustion.
Bobby looked at him quizzically, before finally his mouth formed an 'o' and he nodded in understanding, "I guess you two kids want a little alone time."
"Thanks Bobby," Dean replied, his tone and expression equally sarcastic. He fluttered his fingertips in a wave as Sam left the room, Bobby lumbering after him wearing a knowing grin.
"So... what happened?" Jo inquired, resting against her pillows and touching her hand to her stomach, where she vaguely recalled the sensation of a blade slipping into her flesh. She shuddered at the hazy memory, which was sharp enough to ensure she would be having nightmares for months to come.
"What do you remember?" asked Dean, hesitating as he wondered whether it would be prudent to jog Jo's memory given all she had been through in the short space of time since her return.
Jo gulped and affixed Dean with a steady gaze, "I remember Crowley bringing me back, but I don't remember anything about where I was before that."
Dean sighed with relief, watching as she entangled her fingers with his and eased herself into a sitting position. He wondered if he would ever know whether there had been any truth behind Crowley's taunts at where he had found the soul of the young hunter, and part of him hoped Jo would never remember.
"How did I..." she frowned, suddenly realising that she felt strangely well considering her injuries. Aside from perhaps feeling tired, she appeared to be suffering no ill effects, and the pain she had anticipated upon repositioning herself had failed to materialise.
"Cas," Dean replied quietly. "You were in a pretty bad way when we brought you in."
"Guess I owe him a 'thank you', huh?" she speculated, noting the shadow of discomfort that flashed across Dean's face.
"It's a long story," he shook his head and smiled at her in reassurance, "and, it can wait. You're okay... that's all that matters right now."
Jo decided not to push for an explanation and she cleared her throat as she cast a pensive stare at the bed sheets, purposefully avoiding his gaze.
"Is your friend and her son okay?" Though her memories of the event were cloudy, she could not deny her curiosity nor the pang of jealousy it brought to her heart.
"They're... they'll be just fine," Dean answered, wincing a little as he squeezed Jo's hand.
She nodded and discomfort hung over the room like a grey cloud. The two hunters sat in silence and each mulled over the possibilities of how they could break it. Dean was finally the first to talk.
"Lisa's a good lady... she took me in when I had nowhere else to go, and she put up with some of the worst crap because of it," Dean stated, slowly and carefully as though he were picking his way across a minefield, "I cared about her."
Jo simply listened, her expression giving nothing away, but her eyes rapidly beginning to lose their spark as she anticipated the gentle let down that she assumed Dean was about to give her. She had been pretty out of things back at the warehouse after being injured but Jo was almost certain that she could recall a few kisses and whispered words that had dared her to hope that she could mean more to Dean than he had ever acknowledged before.
"It's okay, I understand," Jo soothed, holding up one hand in order to prevent a further onslaught of apologies and explanations that she did not need, nor could stand.
A curious laughter overcame him as he stared at her and then shook his head with a sad smile. "No, you don't..." he said simply, swallowing back his nerves and the raw emotion he felt building behind his words. The rest of his sentence went unspoken and he leant slowly toward her, his hand cupping her cheek as he brushed his lips firmly against hers in a kiss he hoped would allow her to understand his feelings.
Jo refrained from melting into his kisses, not quite comprehending who the woman had been and how she figured in Dean's life. Jo had no desire to come between the couple, especially not when Dean seemed to have developed such a noticeable bond with her son.
"Dean, I..." she whispered, her breath catching in her throat as he held his forehead against hers and caressed her cheek almost desperately.
He detected the hesitancy in her tone and lifted his eyes to meet hers, not able to prevent his incredulous smile as he realised she was there; alive and well, and in his arms. The woman he had often thought about, yet never dared hope he would ever see again on this earth.
"No," his tone was tender yet resolved, "you don't understand. I... I care about Lisa and Ben, but, it would have been you, Jo."
Dean entangled his fingers in Jo's hair, rested his hand on the back of her head, and coaxed her body towards his own. Their lips collided suddenly as Jo closed the last few inches between them, snaking her arms around Dean's neck and kissing him hungrily.
"I guess that means you do understand," quipped Dean as he exhaled before pouncing on Jo's lips again with his own. They melted into the kiss; one that was so full of promise, unlike the very first they had shared in a hardware store in Carthage. Reluctantly, the couple broke apart after a few seconds had elapsed, and surveyed each other with similarly nervous smiles.
A sudden, quiet knocking drew both of their gazes, and Dean swallowed hard as he saw Lisa and Ben framed in the doorway. Lisa's arm secured Ben to her side and his head rested against her shoulder.
"Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt," Lisa began, taking a tentative step into the room and drawing Ben along with her. Jo stiffened a little in the bed, her eyes wide as she watched Lisa, unsure of her intent. In reassurance, Dean fastened his hand around Jo's before bringing it to his lips and brushing a kiss against her knuckles.
"I just... we just... we had to stop by and thank you," said Lisa in a rush, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she approached Jo's bedside, "you saved my son's life..."
"Oh, I..." Jo began, glancing at Dean and frowning in evident bewilderment. Neither Lisa nor her son seemed to recall Jo or the actual events of the day. Perhaps more importantly, neither appeared to remember Dean.
"We won't interrupt," Lisa smiled and gestured toward their joined hands, "but Ben and I... we just wanted to say thank you. If you hadn't been there, the car would have hit him and..." She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence as the thought alone was too horrific.
"I'm just glad you're both okay," Jo said with a smile, as she wondered how their apparently revised memories could have been crafted and who lay behind it. Dean's expression pleaded with her to play along however, and so she did.
"I don't even know your name," Lisa laughed, running her hands through her hair in a somewhat coy gesture.
"Jo," the blonde hunter replied, shaking her head as she saw Lisa's gaze fall expectantly to Dean, "oh, uh... this is Dean."
Lisa smiled in greeting, her arm tightening around Ben as she frowned uncertainly, "Have we met before?"
Dean shrugged, widening his eyes in an expression of innocence, "No ma'am, I don't think so."
"Oh," Lisa nodded thoughtfully, her smile returning as she turned her gaze back to Jo, "anyway, we just wanted to say 'thank you' and see how you were doing. I guess we'll leave you guys to it. Take care, Jo."
"Yeah, you too, Lisa..." she whispered, unsure as to whether her guilt at the apparent deception was justified or not.
Whilst she felt unease at the idea of stealing someone's memories, she also viewed Lisa as one of the lucky ones. The horrors she and Ben had experienced would never result in fears or nightmares, and they had been awarded a second chance to live free from the knowledge of what lay in wait in the dark.
"Take care of each other," Dean said quietly, a sad smile gracing his lips as Lisa merely nodded and led Ben from the room. Jo remained quiet, attempting to analyse Dean's expression as he watched them go.
"So, what happens now?" she bit down on her bottom lip and took a deep breath, smiling wryly as she noted the telemetry monitor beside her pick up her suddenly elevated heart rate.
"What do you want to happen?" Dean asked gently, sitting back in his chair, their entwined hands resting on the edge of the bed. Jo shrugged, deliberately avoiding Dean's gaze as she contemplated her options. It seemed that there were few since the roadhouse was long gone, and she could not yet even begin to contemplate the fact that she would be forced to live without her mother. Ellen had been the one permanent, comforting presence throughout Jo's life and even death, and the thought that the bond they had once shared was now severed by separation made Jo's heart ache. She fought the tears that threatened to overwhelm her, and was relieved to find herself victorious in that fight. At least for the time being.
"I don't really have a lot of options," Jo whispered, her voice small and containing a helpless note that she despised.
Dean moved towards her and simply enveloped her in strong arms. He pressed his lips into her hair, and mumbled his response, "I'm not going anywhere Jo."
Her voice was muffled against his chest and she was surprised at the ferocity with which he held her to him, "Okay."
Dean cast a cautious glance out toward the hallway, checking for the presence of any of the nursing staff, before he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and pulled her against his chest.
"You and I, we should have been something a long time ago," he stated confidently, the emotion etched on his face as he recounted the pain and regret of losing her that was still so raw in his mind.
"I was so stupid, Jo," he berated himself for having dismissed his feelings for so long, "I thought I was protecting you."
"From what?" she frowned, and Dean pressed a lingering kiss to her temple.
"From me," Dean said hoarsely, "from the life I lead. I thought keeping you away from me was keeping you safe."
Jo slid her hand up around his neck and swept her fingertips across the warm skin underneath his collar. "Hunting's my life too, Dean," she argued, "whether we like it or not, it's who we are. Maybe it always will be."
"You think we can make this work?" Dean queried, peering into Jo's eyes and realising for the first time just how easy it would be to get lost in them.
"You don't?" she murmured, half questioning and half resigned. Dean's eyes widened and he shook his head.
"I didn't mean it like that..." he stammered, a blush rising upon his cheeks, "I just... I'm... I can't lose you again."
Dean dropped his gaze immediately to the floor, a heavy sigh escaping him. Jo swept her hand across his cheekbone, forcing Dean to tilt his face towards her, and met his eyes with a startling intensity present within her own.
"We'll make it work," she stated, daring herself to believe that something in their troubled and tormented lives might be good. Jo remembered their goodbye in Carthage. She could recall the helpless expression in Dean's eyes and the desperation with which he had clung to her. In that moment, the realisation that Dean perhaps returned her feelings had been the breaking point for Jo, as she lay bleeding on the ground, ever conscious of death beckoning her, Jo had mourned all that might have been.
"Not everybody gets a second chance, Dean," Jo murmured, her gaze still affixed on his features, "and I don't want to waste it."
Dean nodded in agreement, holding Jo under such scrutiny that a blush rose to her cheeks. "You're so beautiful," he smiled and his whole face appeared illuminated with happiness.
Jo's planned self-deprecating remark never made it past her lips, as Dean bent his head and kissed her softly. Her hand gripped the collar of his shirt as the kiss intensified, and Dean smirked against her mouth, as the heart monitor beside the bed bleeped in warning.
Eventually breaking apart, Jo opened her eyes to find a thoroughly smug grin plastered across Dean's face.
"Shut up." She rolled her eyes, about to lean back against her pillows when he pulled her abruptly closer once again.
"You shut up," he retorted playfully, grinning as this time she initiated a kiss.
A pointed cough coming from the direction of the doorway stole their attention and Dean groaned as he prepared to open his eyes, fully anticipating being removed from the ICU bay by the charge nurse. Making yourself comfortable on a patient's bed and then making out with said patient was most probably against the rules.
Relief filled Dean as Bobby took a step into the room, flanked by a blushing Sam whose eyes were affixed on the floor.
"I hate to break this up," Bobby drawled, gaze flicking from Dean to an embarrassed Jo, "but we gotta head out, Dean. We still have the small problem of a renegade angel on our hands."
At Jo's questioning glance Dean tossed his head, planting a quick kiss to her cheek before sauntering over to join his brother.
"Nothing for you to worry about," he insisted, shrugging on his jacket and feeling around for his wallet. He cast a final, and evidently emotional glance at Jo, before he promised, "I'll see you later."
Burying the knowledge that his vow was one that he may not be able to keep, given the nature of their impending showdown, Dean strode from the room filled with renewed purpose
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