So this is a little something that I found in my computer and thought, why not? It'll be short, maybe four, five chapters tops. Let me know what you think!

"We're closed." Jo Harvelle called over her shoulder to the patron that had just entered the bar. The beer bottles clanked together as she gathered as many as she could in her small hands. An old practiced art of hers.

"Hey Jo."

The rough as sand paper voice crawled its way on her skin leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. She stood straight up from her position at a table in back. Her heart beat uncontrollably in her chest, the pounding echoed in her ears as her stomach seemed to twist in itself. "We're closed." Jo repeated in a whisper. It had been four months since she'd seen him last. Four months and never once did he call like he said he would.

Of course Jo had no illusions that he would, it didn't change the fact that she was still pissed that he could make her pulse quicken every time her phone rang. Or every time some one would mention his name, he was so impossibly under her skin and she hated him for it. She hated that he could make her feel this way and she had little to no effect on him.

"Jo," He said her name like he was begging for his life. "Please."

Jo closed her eyes as she pursed her lips, willing herself to calm down. She took three deep breaths and continued her task of taking the bottles to the trash behind the bar. She wiped her palms on the thighs of her jeans before she placed them both face down on the top of the bar. "Well?" She gestured to the stool across from her.

Dean smirked at her as he took his jacket off, "Have a drink with me?" He laid his jacket down on the stool next to him and took a seat. He clasped his hands in front of him looking up at her with a pitiful expression on his face.

"No." Jo deadpanned. She was not going to give him an inch, she raised her eyebrows expectantly as she crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you doing here?"

Dean shrugged nonchalantly, "It's the end of the line for me." He quipped cryptically.

"Yeah, I heard about the deal." Jo nodded, "Didn't answer my question. Why are you here?"

Dean sighed bowing his head to look down at the pattern the wood made on the top of the bar. "I came to apologize." He mumbled into his chest, "I just wanted to... you know, come by... before..." He trailed off never quite saying what he had coached himself on the whole drive here.

Jo eyed him skeptically, "Why?"

"Why?" He repeated, his gaze snapping up to look at her, "I just told you 'why'."

"Why did you want to come by?" Jo all but shouted at him. She was sick and tired of all the run around, she just wanted a straight answer. "Why did you drive all the way up to Duluth? Last I heard you were half way across the country. What made you want to drive all the way over here?" When Dean looked away again, Jo snapped her fingers at him to get his attention, "Over here, Dean-o." She said pointing two fingers at her eyes. "Just spit it out." Her whiskey stained eyes pleaded with him to just give up his bravado, just this once.

Dean stared up at her, his green eyes darting back and forth between her brown. He should never of come here. He would only break her heart. "I only have a couple weeks left." He blurted out, not really sure of what else he could say in that moment. "I can't stay long." When her scowl softened and her shoulder's slumped ever so slightly, he knew he shouldn't continue. But Sam was right, after all. She did deserve to know, how she hadn't figured it out before him was beyond Dean. "I had to see you."

Her brows knitted with sadness as she took her turn to look away, "Why?" Her voice barely a breath in the air.

Dean shook his head, it was a mistake to come here, "I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you," He confessed rubbing a hand down his weary features. He kept telling his legs to run, his arms to grab his coat, and his body to just get the hell out of there. But he couldn't. He knew being there was a mistake, and he just couldn't bring himself to take one more step away from her.

Jo sighed as she pulled two tumblers out from under the bar. She walked to the end of the bar toward the shelf and pulled off an old bottle of whiskey, making her way to the stool next to Dean. She poured three fingers in each glass and took a large gulp from her glass before she finally took a seat.

Dean tried to smother the look of pride on his face at watching her take a shot like it was water.

"So this is goodbye." Jo spoke over the brim of her glass before she took a small sip.

Dean nodded solemly as he wrapped his calloused hands around his own glass. "I'm afraid so." He whispered into the silence of the bar.

Jo nodded resolutely, she knew if she was ever going to gather the courage, it had to be now. She took another shot from her drink and turned to look at Dean.

"How do you see me?"

"What?" Dean looked at her incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

Jo polished off the rest of her drink before she explained, "Do you see me as a friend? A collegue? A little sister? Pain in the ass, what?"

Dean took a shot from his own glass, "Jo." He spoke her name like a curse. "I'm dying in two weeks." He begged her, "Does it matter?" His voice was tired, stretched, his shoulder's slumped with exhaustion.

Jo leaned her elbow on the table to get a better look at him in the dim lighting, her forehead creasing in anger. "Of course it matters. Dead or alive, I should know." She sighed grabbing the bottle and poured herself some more whiskey, "If not for you than at least for my own piece of mind." She took a sip from her glass and sucked on her teeth as the fire of the drink burned a hot trail all the way down to her stomach.

Dean regarded her for a moment, he turned back to his whiskey, tipping the glass towards him, peering into the amber liquid just as he had seconds ago at Jo. He took a deep breath before he poured the rest of the glasses contents in his mouth. "Pain in the ass, sometimes," He whispered as he set the glass down gently on the varnished bar. "I like you, Jo." He reached for the whiskey bottle and poured three more fingers in his glass. "Too much." He took a shot from his glass, taking nearly half of it down.

Jo stayed quite, not knowing how to respond. She did the only thing she could think of, she reached out her hand and placed it in his, slowly worming her fingers to intertwine with his.

Dean stared at their joined hands in awe. For a moment he almost forgot his impending doom. Forgot about the hell hounds sure to come, forgot about Sam, about his father, about her mother. He forgot it all.

He looked up her almost dazed, "I think I love you." It was the only explaination as to how she had gotten so deep under his skin. He pulled his hand out of her grasp with a sigh and buried his face in his hands, "I never should have told you that." He groaned against his palms.

"Why not?" Jo leaned back on her stool.

Dean's arms fell limply against the bar, "Because now it's worse when I die!"

Jo pushed away from the bar, standing from her seat, "Well it was gonna suck no matter what." She marched her way into the kitchen, "I love you too jack ass." She threw over her shoulder before the swinging door blocked his view of her.

"Jo." He pushed away from the bar and followed her, "Jo," He called for her as he kept moving further into the kitchen. "Jo, where are you?"

She shuffled her feet around and isle, wiping at her cheeks, "I'm right here." The annoyance in her voice wasn't hard to miss.

Dean smiled as he took her in, her blond curls hung just below her shoulder, her jeans hung loosely around her hips, and dragged on the ground. In that moment she looked exactly like the girl he had met years before. He was in front of her in three strides, his hands came up to cup her face and he wiped the stray tears away with his thumbs. "I'm sorry." He whispered leaning his forehead against hers.

Jo clasped his wrists in her hands in a sudden rush of fear that he would turn and leave pulsed through her veins as she gave him a teary nod. "Took you long enough." She tried to smile up at him, a sob escaped her lips as her eyes met his.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, tangling his hands in her hair, taking in her scent, trying to brand it into his memory. Vanilla and gunpowder. He pulled back, full well knowing there was no going back from there, knowing he was just making things worse. But he couldn't die not knowing. He placed a gentle bittersweet kiss to her lips, pulling away again just to be pulled back in.

Jo wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed herself flush against him. She kissed him with desperation, she needed him like she needed the air in her lungs.

Dean dropped his arm around the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer as the other cupped her face.

She didn't stop him when he took her shirt off, his hands raking up her sides. He didn't stop her when she unbuckled his belt, pulling it achingly slow out of its loops.

Jo didn't stop him when Dean layed them down on the cold tile of the kitchen, and Dean certainly didn't stop when she hoarsely whispered "Birth control." And Jo definitely didn't stop him when he pushed her up against the door of her apartment. She also didn't stop him when she heard her bed groan at the absence of his weight.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling as the front door quietly shut. She closed her eyes against the rumble of the Impala outside. She reached her hand over to the side that he once occupied only for her fingers to twist in a tough string. She looked over to see Dean's trademark amulet laying next to her.

In three months she would find out she was pregnant. In four months, an angel would unknowingly answer her prayers. In eight months she would finally see Dean again.