WITH ME

Chapter 1

She infuriated him, God, so much.

Especially right at that moment, standing behind the bar with her hands on her hips and a challenge in her eyes, daring him to refuse her request.

"No," he said. "Too dangerous."

Her jaw clenched, she took a step forward. "I don't care," she replied, and he was even more irritated that he was actually considering it even though he knew it was a bad idea. "I can handle myself."

Looking away, he found his brother's eyes on him and he scowled even more darkly. That kid could win Saddest Expression of the year.

"I said 'no'. Your mother would kill me..."

She rolled her brown doe-eyes and jumped up on the bar, her legs almost knocking over his beer as she swiveled to sit right in front of him. She was dressed in jeans and a black tank top, and even that upset him because she looked just as pretty in those clothes as she would in a dress. Why couldn't she have been born with a hump, or an extra finger? Maybe then all this would be easier. He looked at her face; she was scowling at him. He wanted to be mad, but she actually looked cute like that. Her lips looked like a heart when she pouted.

"You're a jerk, you know that?" She asked him. "You can't make me stay here."

"You wanna bet?"

"I'm going with you."

He shook his head and took a swig of his beer, then growled as she swiped it from him and downed half of the remainder in a single gulp. Snatching it back, he frowned as she giggled, his level of irritation once more close to homicidal.

"C'mon, Dean," she said, her voice a whine that was almost sharp enough to make him wince. "It's just a Wendigo."

Dammit, he thought as she hooked her feet around his stool and slipped off the bar onto his lap, her arms looping around his neck reminding him of the noose her mother would surely use on him if anything happened to her.

"Jo..." he groaned in embarrassment as he spied Sam duck his head and hide a smirk. Unsure of which god to curse for this, he played it safe and mentioned them all.

She leaned closer to his face and he could smell the beer on her breath. His beer. That should have pissed him off but it didn't. Maybe it was the fact that her perfume was filling his head, or maybe it was the alcohol, but right then all he wanted to do was press his lips against hers, let his hands drift up under her flimsy top...

Jo gave him a saucy look. "Whatsa matter, Dean? Worried I'll kill it before you can?"

"No." He let his hands hang down at his sides to keep them as far from the temptation of her perfect skin as possible. "I'm worried about what Ellen would do if the Wendigo got the upper hand." Or if she saw us right now, he added mentally.

Her fingers were on his cheek then, trailing through the stubble down to his jaw. As they zeroed in on the sensitive spot just below his ear, she murmured, "I'm not a kid anymore, Dean."

He shut his eyes. "I know."

Oh, God, did he know. Unfortunately, he also knew where Ellen hid her guns. All fifteen of them. And they were all in the very room he currently occupied.

"Besides, I know you and Sam will protect me."

His eyes still closed, he nodded. "Always."

Her fingertips brushed his lips and he nearly lost his mind. "Then just say 'yes'."

Unable to stop himself, he nodded again. "Okay."

Beside him, Sam shook his head. That was far too easy. Either the girl had huge mojo to be able to pull that off or Dean was already drunk enough to be having trouble using his better judgment. Whichever it was, he'd caved, and their party just went from a comfortable two to a crowded three. However, Sam also knew Jo fairly well. She wouldn't have given up, anyway.

"Really?" Jo asked, and Dean nodded a third time. Sam thought he was beginning to look like a bobble-headed doll.

"Yeah."

Loosing a soft squeal, she slid off of Dean and bolted for the door to the back room. "I'll go get my stuff!"

Hazel eyes fluttering open, Dean paused to contemplate the look on his brother's face and then scowled.

"What the hell just happened?"

Sam chuckled and patted the elder Winchester's shoulder, the only form of comfort he knew how to give at that moment. "She whammied you, man."

He thought as much. Jumping up from his seat, he rushed after her. "Dammit! Jo!"

She was already coming out of the back, her duffel slung over her shoulder. She'd put on the jacket that had once belonged to her Daddy, the one Ellen had kept for her all those years, and a revolver was tucked into the waistband of her jeans. And damn if that jacket didn't fit her just right, except for sleeves that were just a tad too long.

"Jo, this is a bad idea. I didn't..." He gulped and rubbed a thumb across his forehead, which was just beginning to ache. "I shouldn't have said yes."

She shrugged. "Too late."

Dean looked to Sam, who simply lifted his shoulders as if to say You got yourself into this mess. No way I'm helping you out of it and shot his brother a sour glare. Thanks, Sammy.

"Look, Jo..." he began, but she stopped him with a raised hand.

"No, you look," she interrupted. "I told you, I'm a big girl. I'll be fine."

"I never said..."

"I can't just sit here staring at four walls and a busted pool table forever, Dean. I want - no, I need - to do something. I need to help."

"This isn't a Thanksgiving turkey hunt," Dean argued. "These things are big, they're fast, and they're deadly."

She narrowed her eyes at him then, and said, "You think this is my first hunt, don't you?"

He blinked. "It's...it's not?"

"Not even close." Stepping close to him again, she dropped her duffel at their feet and put her hands against his chest, feeling his heart thumping beneath his t-shirt. "So stop treating me like I'm gonna break into pieces, and let's go."

Again he looked at Sam. He nodded, an ever-so-slight downward tip of his head. Feeling outnumbered, Dean cursed inwardly. "Fine," he said aloud, "but if anything happens to you, I'm telling Ellen you just showed up."

Her lips parted in a beaming grin and he hated himself even more for going along with this plan, even as he imagined kissing that smirk off her face. "Deal."

"Let's go, before I change my mind," Dean grumbled, grabbing Jo's duffel and heading for the door.

As he popped the trunk and dumped her bag inside, he pondered how the hell this had happened. Then, he recalled the feel of her fingers on his skin, and he knew.

She had used his feelings for her against him. But had she known, or just guessed? Another thought crossed his mind: how many other guys had she pulled this on? Was he the only one? He shook his head. There were plenty of young guys Jo's age within a ten mile radius of the Roadhouse. Though he hoped Ellen had put the fear of God into each of them, Jo had probably perfected that little trick on them first, maybe in hopes of this very moment.

He considered her statement about this not being her first hunt. Jo Harvelle, the petite blond with the huge brown eyes, was a competent Hunter? Well, he supposed it was possible, seeing as how her father was a Hunter, though he and Ellen had tried hard to keep their daughter's life as normal as they could. His own father had done just the opposite - Sam and Dean had been thrown into Hunting without a thought as to whether they wanted it or not - and as a result any chance at a normal life had gone out the window. Sam had tried, once, but ultimately it had ended in tragedy and so he'd slowly given up on the idea and joined his brother on the road.

And now, here was Jo, disregarding her mother's wishes to follow in her father's footsteps, and Dean was letting her do it. No, he wasn't just letting her, he was actually helping her. He hated himself for that, and he was pretty sure Ellen would hate him when she found out.

Speaking of Ellen...

"Hey, Jo," he called as he slammed the trunk and walked toward the driver's seat of his sleek black Impala.

"Yeah?" She asked from the middle of the back seat.

"Where is your mother? And who's running the Roadhouse with you gone?"

"Oh, she's at Bobby's, and I woke up Ash to keep things up in case someone stops by." She smirked and added, "Which they shouldn't because only jokers like you two drop down for a beer at four thirty in the morning."

His lips twitched downward. "Ha ha. What's she doing at Bobby's?"

"Hell if I know. She got a call from him two days ago and then all of a sudden she was packing a bag and telling me to hold things down at the Roadhouse."

"She never said what it was about?"

Jo shrugged. "Nope." She let her gaze drift toward the back of Sam's head and then back to Dean's face. "Can we ponder my mother's weird habits on the road? That Wendigo won't stick round the same spot forever."

Dean stuffed down his annoyance at her and slid into his seat, the sound of his door shutting a loud echo in the otherwise empty parking lot. As he started the engine he glanced up into the rearview and asked, "You sure Ash can handle it? He's not exactly the brightest bulb..."

She grinned. "He'll be fine. Ash has been around bars since he was born."

"Yeah, but he's...well I don't wanna say scrawny, but..."

"Don't need to be big. He knows where the guns are, and everyone who comes in knows he knows. If they wanna keep from getting any extra holes they'll behave."

Leaning forward, she rested her arms on the back of the front seat, and Dean bit his lip as he felt her breath on his ear. "Thanks for bringing me along, Dean. You won't regret it."

"I better not," he replied, a little more gruffly than he'd meant to be. To make up for it, he caught her gaze in the mirror again and softly said, "You should get some sleep. It's gonna be a long ride."

The way she lifted the corner of her gorgeous mouth was going to give him crazy dreams for the next month at least.

TBC...