Title: Two Men, One Face

Pairing(s)/Rating: Dean/Jimmy & Dean/Castiel, PG

Word count: 3390

Summary: Dean is called to Pontiac, Illinois for a hunt and is reunited with Jimmy for the first time since driving him home after Castiel's return to heaven after the war. Despite his efforts to get in and out of town as quickly as possible with as little contact with Jimmy as he can manage, Dean doesn't seem to be able to avoid the other man.

Disclaimer: I don't own or claim to own anything from Supernatural.

Beta: catmint

Note: Written for spn_meanttobe on live journal with the original prompt: A Letter for Annie - The last time Annie Greer saw Eden Bay was in her rearview mirror. And she'd keep it that way if not for the SOS from the only family she has. While she may have come home, she has no intention of reconnecting with the town that thinks the worst of her.
Too bad fate has different plans—namely Kyle Becker. Despite her attempts to avoid him, the attraction between them grows. But can they overcome their shared history? The obstacle seems too great. Then Kyle gives her a letter—a voice from the past—that could hold the key to their future.

When Castiel had been called back to heaven after the war, Dean had been completely alone. Sam had died and Bobby had died. Both had died in battle, as had so many others. Dean had seriously considered joining them until Castiel had guilt-tripped him into changing his mind.

"Do you think Sam and Bobby would have wanted this for you? Do you think I want this for you?"

And so Dean hadn't done it. In a fit of rage, he'd thrown his gun at the wall of the abandoned house they were in at the timeand broken down, crying against the shoulder of the one person he had left in this shitty world. But one week later, Castiel had returned to heaven with one last kiss and promise to watch over him, leaving Dean with no one but Jimmy Novak for company.

He'd gotten the man a large takeaway meal before starting the long drive to Pontiac, Illinois, where Jimmy's wife and daughter lived. The sooner he could get the man home, the faster Dean could get away from the physical reminder of yet another loss.

They'd made half the drive to Pontiac when Jimmy finally spoke, asking Dean a question that nearly made him drive off the side of the road.

"Did you ever stop to think about me even once while you and Castiel used my body for your own pleasure?"

The rest of the ride had seemed to go on for days and Dean would have been happy to never return to Pontiac ever again which is why it came as no surprise to him when a phone call brought him back a little over a year later. He always did have shitty luck.

*

Dean stays parked in Amelia Novak's driveway for almost five minutes before finally getting out and making his way over to the door. He'll find out what she wants and then be gone. Maybe he'll have a little luck and Jimmy won't be home. When the door opens, Amelia offers him a nervous smile but steps aside to let him in, offering coffee and pie. Claire went apple-picking with her cousins on Sunday and now they have more apples then Amelia knows what to do with. She's babbling about apple sauce and apple crumble while she makes coffee and Dean finally stops her.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, finally sitting down at the table with him while they wait for the coffee. "I get restless when I'm nervous. The things that came with meeting you the first time weren't exactly great and this time I think I'm just crazy but – sorry, I'm doing it again." She blushes and bites her lip.

Dean's about to ask her why he's here but what comes out instead is entirely different: "Where's Jimmy?"

"He took Claire to a small fair a town over. He calls her every day, and on the weekends he takes her out somewhere. Some Sundays he comes over for dinner."

"He doesn't live here?" Dean feels like he should be more surprised but he isn't.

"After all that time and everything that's happened… We couldn't go back. I don't think we'll ever be able to." The kitchen goes quiet when the coffee machine stops gurgling and Amelia jumps up to pour them each a cup. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here so if you want we can go to the living room and I can tell you." Dean nods and stands. "And I really do hope you'll have some pie. I wasn't kidding about having to use up the apples."

Dean chuckles and accepts the offer. Who is he to refuse homemade apple pie?

In the living room, Amelia tells Dean about the house her mother has just bought: a small, one-storey house that is far from newly-built but has been well-kept by previous owners. It only requires a few repairs and some redecorating, which is where the problem lies. The people hired keep getting injured – and they aren't accidental injuries.

"Sounds like you have a spirit," Dean tells her. "Know anything about the history of the house?"

"This is really normal for you, isn't it?" Dean just shrugs. "I only know how old the house is, who the previous owner was and what needs to be fixed. I don't know anything else."

The front door bangs open and Dean turns around in time to see Jimmy chasing his daughter into the living room. They're both smiling and laughing, Jimmy carrying a big teddy bear under his arm. They stop when they notice Dean and Jimmy's smile falters.

Seeing the familiar face is like a stab to Dean's heart. It's the same face he fell in love with but it's the wrong person. He stands and turns back to Amelia. "I'll look into the house and let you know when it's done," he tells her before turning to leave. "Nice to see you, Jimmy," he says quietly, awkwardly, before quickly walking out. He hears Jimmy calling his name but he doesn't stop.

All he wants is to kill the spirit and get out of town.

*

Dean heads over to the house that evening for a quick look, deciding to leave the car at the hotel and walk. It isn't far and he could use the walk to clear his mind. When he steps inside, he turns on the hall light. It flickers once before staying on. He strains his ears for any sounds but there aren't any. He takes a step into the living room and quickly ducks when an empty bucket comes flying at him. It hits the wall behind him and falls to the floor, the sound echoing through the empty room.

"Right, definitely something here," Dean tells himself while stepping back outside.

It's still early and he has no idea what to do with himself. Seeing Jimmy again has brought back painful memories, and sitting in his hotel room with nothing to do will just remind him of how alone he is. He doesn't feel like going to a bar either so he decides on a walk around town.

Twenty minutes into his walk, he rounds a corner and comes face-to-face with Jimmy. He should have known fate wouldn't cut him a break.

"Hey, Dean," Jimmy greets him. They stand together in silence. It's uncomfortable and Dean's mind is screaming at him to leave.

"I have to go," he mumbles, pushing past Jimmy and quickly walking to the next corner before turning it and breaking into a jog, picking up speed as the seconds go until he reaches the hotel at which he's staying.

*

Dean's gone through a quarter of the records the librarian gave him and his eyes are already swimming. He hates research that can't be easily accomplished with the help of the internet. There's usually more information to go through with the slides and he has to pay closer attention. This was never his area of expertise. Sam was the main researcher.

He manages another five slides before deciding it's time for a break and a short wander around the library to stretch his legs. He comes face-to-face with Jimmy in the Mystery section and sighs. He already misses his swimming eyesight and numb backside.

"Dean," Jimmy greats him, his voice soft but pleased. "Doing research for Amelia?"

Dean nods and they stand in awkward silence for a moment until Dean realizes it's probably his turn to speak. "What about you? Big mystery fan?"

"What? Oh, no, just browsing. Claire needed some books for a school project so I brought her. Just killing time since, apparently; she doesn't need my help."

"Yeah, Sam never really needed help with his projects, either. Of course, back then I wasn't browsing for books. I was normally flirting or napping," he admits with a nervous chuckle.

"So, how have you been?"

"Good, I guess. I've been good. You?"

"Same here. Getting back into the swing of things. It's taking a little longer to adjust than I thought it would."

"Well, I should go. Lots of work to do."

Dean hurries back to the slide machine he was using and grabs his coat before telling the librarian that something came up and he'll have to come back in a few hours.

*

Dean is rather annoyed from having wasted far too many hours over searching for a spirit that doesn't exist. No one died bloody in the house or on the property. No one even died peacefully from what he could find – or not find.

"Fucking poltergeist," he swears under his breath, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Hopefully he can get hold of Missouri and find out what she put in the little herb bags they used back in Lawrence. He only hopes he can get what he needs for them.

*

He's sees Jimmy's reflection in the plastic covering the poster on the wall next to him and he wants to cry. He placed his order a little over ten minutes ago and figures he probably has another five minutes' wait ahead of him. The restaurant is pretty small so there's no way Jimmy won't notice him. He's tired, hungry, and cranky and he doesn't need this right now.

Jimmy's voice is soft and pleased again when he says Dean's name. "How many times do you think we'll run into each other while you're in town?" Jimmy jokes. Dean doesn't think it's funny and wishes the other man could see that. Jimmy's not the one whose heart breaks all over again with each meeting.

"Probably not again," Dean admits. "If all goes well, I should be done with the job early tomorrow and then I'm gone."

"Oh," is all Jimmy says. He looks disappointed.

Dean's food is finally ready and he excuses himself. "I have herb bags to put together before tomorrow. Good times," he adds sarcastically. "Take care of yourself, Jimmy."

*

Dean curses when an empty paint-tray hits the back of his head and he gives the bottom of the wall an extra-hard kick before pushing the first bag into the hole. With one down and three to go, Dean starts to make his way into the next room, wary of any objects about to come his way, but stops when the front door opens and someone calls his name.

It's Jimmy.

"Damn it, Jimmy! What the hell are you doing here?" Dean yells, walking back into the living room. A paint roller hits him in the back while another heads straight for Jimmy. It bounces off the side of his head. Serves him right, Dean thinks while he grabs Jimmy by the arm before pulling him out the front door.

"You shouldn't be doing this alone, Dean. It's dangerous!"

"What else am I supposed to do?! Sam died saving the world, so did Bobby, and Castiel left me for fucking heaven! I'm all alone and these goddamned things have to keep wreaking havoc and chaos and someone has to take care of them, so yeah, I went in alone!"

"Let me help you," Jimmy offers.

"No! I can't get rid of this thing and watch your ass at the same time. That thing doesn't just throw stuff at people, Jimmy. It can kill."

"Which is why you need help! I can do whatever needs to be done with those little bags you have while you keep the thing away! Let me help."

Dean sighs. It's not a bad idea. "You have to make holes in the walls and put the bags in. We need one in each of the north, south, east and west corners on each floor of the house. Lucky for us the house only has one floor. I've already done the south wall."

"Then let's go do the other three."

*

Dean is covered from chest to toe in paint – wet, sticky, baby blue paint – and Jimmy is laughing at him. The poltergeist's last 'fuck you' before being expelled from the house. Dean wished it had thrown him into a wall instead.

Jimmy is still laughing so Dean opens another can of blue paint and promptly pours it over Jimmy's head. The laughing is replaced by spluttering and Dean smirks.

"Who's laughing now?"

"I look like one of the Smurfs," Jimmy complains as he tries to clear some of the paint off of his face.

Dean's amusement disappears quickly and it's time to leave – after he gets out of his paint-covered clothes. "I have some clothes in the car," he tells Jimmy. "They aren't clean but they aren't dripping in paint, either. You should try and wash off that paint while I go get them."

Jimmy nods before heading towards the washroom, leaving a trail of paint behind him as he walks. Dean runs to the car quickly, not wanting to run into any neighbors, and grabs his bag of laundry clothes along with the garbage bags he keeps for those extra-messy hunts all while trying to keep his baby paint-free.

Back inside the house, he quickly strips out of his wet clothes and wipes off the paint on his skin with a shirt from the laundry before dumping everything into a plastic bag and changing into cleaner, dry clothes.

When Jimmy comes out of the washroom, water is dripping down his body and he's wearing nothing but his boxers. Dean quickly averts his eyes and hands him a bag for the dirty clothes, followed by dry ones.

"Those should do until you get home. You can keep them or, throw them out after, or… I don't need them back," he explains in the end. "Thanks for the help," he adds before walking out and leaving Jimmy alone.

After a much-needed shower, Dean places a quick call to Amelia, letting her know the job is done and apologizing for the mess. Once the call is over, his eyes fall on the laundry that desperately needs to be done. The Laundromat is only a five-minute drive away. If he does it now, he can hit the road by morning.

*

"Should I even bother saying hi or should I pretend like I'm not here?"

Pulling his head out of the dryer, Dean turns and looks up at Jimmy, his own laundry bag slung over his shoulder.

Dean goes back to pulling out his last load and stuffing it all into the duffle bag. A few wrinkles never killed anyone. "What do you want from me, Jimmy? I don't know how to act around you, okay? And even if I did, it's hard seeing you. When I see you I see Cas and it hurts so much. I'm not acting this way to be mean, it just hurts less." With that, Dean zips his bag shut and starts walking towards the door.

"I wrote you a letter," Jimmy calls from the other end of the room. Dean stops and turns to look at him. "I left it at the front desk of the hotel you're staying at. Just read it, please?" Dean nods once before leaving.

Just like Jimmy told him, the letter is handed to him by the girl at the front desk, and Dean takes it with a polite smile before going up to his room.

He spends a good five minutes staring at the letter before he starts going around the room, gathering his things and stuffing them into his bag. He dumps it by the table, clears out the few things from the hotel room fridge and does one last sweep of the room to make sure nothing was forgotten, before he grabs his bag off the floor along with the letter and leaves the room to check out.

It's starting to get dark out and he's driven non-stop for four hours by the time he pulls over on the side of a deserted road and turns off the car. Jimmy's letter is sitting on the dashboard and it feels like it's mocking him. Giving in, he takes the letter and tears open the envelope.

"Here goes nothing."

The letter is long and Dean has to wonder what Jimmy could possibly have to tell him that would require so many words. It's three pages long and he notices that the writing is kind of small, too. He also recognizes that he's stalling so he sits up a little straighter, flips back to the beginning and starts reading.

*

When he finally finishes the letter, Dean slumps back in his seat and lets his head fall back. It's a lot to take in and he doesn't know if he even wants to take it all in. Driving around from state to state working and not thinking was much easier and he's tempted to ignore the letter and keep doing exactly that. A small part of him doesn't want to and another small part knows it wouldn't be fair to Jimmy.

Pulling back onto the road, Dean turns the car around and heads back to Pontiac. He makes it to Jimmy's apartment in a little less than three and a half hours, having gone from confused and lost to angry.

When Jimmy answers the door, his hair and clothes are mussed and rumpled from sleep.

"You're an ass, you know that?" Dean snaps. "When I brought you home after the war, you wouldn't give me the time of day and pretty much called me a rapist, and yeah, I can get why. But now you tell me you think you like me because of flashes you have of your time spent possessed by an angel?"

"No, what I said was I feel an attraction towards you but I don't know if it's real or just curiosity."

"Same thing!" Dean yells.

Jimmy winces and looks around the empty hallway. "I think you should come in before you wake the neighbors," he tells Dean, stepping aside to let him in.

"What was the point of the letter?" Dean asks with a tired sigh when Jimmy follows him into the living room and joins him on the couch.

"To tell you exactly what the letter said. That I've forgiven you and Castiel and to apologise for the way I acted once he left. To let you know how I feel," Jimmy explains with a shrug. "I wasn't really expecting anything. I actually kind of wish I hadn't written the letter."

"Too late for that," Dean states under his breath. "So what exactly do you remember?"

"Different things with different levels of clarity but most memories are of the war. I remember battles with the demons and Lucifer, conversations with other angels and with you and Sam. I remember… I remember intimate moments between you and Castiel."

"Hence the curiosity," Dean deduces.

"I don't know if it's only curiosity."

"What the hell else could it be, Jimmy? You barely know me. What you do know is from a few meetings and some memories of your time as Cas's vessel. It's not much to go on. I don't even know what it is you expect from me."

"I don't know. I guess a part of me was hoping that you'd be ready to move on and maybe try and be happy with someone else?"

"And then you could swoop in and sweep me off my feet?" Dean teases with a wry smile.

"Don't make fun of me!"

"It would be nice to be able to move on," Dean admits after a few minutes of silence. "I just don't know how well that would work with you considering you and he share the same face."

"We could start by finding out if we'd work as more than…whatever it is we are now. Thanks to you, we have all the time in the world for that."

"I had help," Dean reminds him. "Gotta give credit where credit is due."

"So what do you say? Can we give this a shot?" Jimmy asks.

Deancontemplates him for a minute before leaning forward to press his lips to Jimmy's. "Did that feel weird or did you like it?" he asks. His heart is beating a mile a minute and he can't decide what he's hoping the answer will be.

"I liked that," Jimmy tells him.

"Then yeah, I think we can try and give this a shot."