A/N : I'm new to the fandom, but completely OBSESSED and totally in love with Supernatural. Though I've been writing for a year now, this is my first Supernatural Fanfic. I totally loved Dean and Jo, and this is a tiny attempt to satisfy the D/J need.

Whew! New Fandom! I'm really nervous. I hope this one's good. Thank you for giving it a try.

Just a heads up. This O/S is unedited and written at three in the morning. You've been warned. ;)

Disclaimer : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

The cool breeze wafting in through the window did nothing the to soothe the pain Dean felt. Tossing and turning in the Harvel's guest bedroom , he was wide awake at two in the morning, the weight of the recent happenings weighing heavily on him. The whole dying experience, his dad's sacrifice to save him, those last words he'd whispered about Sam, it was all overwhelming— making Dean hate himself for what happened.

Running a hand through his hair, he finally closed his eyes in an attempt to fall asleep—a few moments of escape from the crazy mess that was his life. Not more than ten seconds later, the door creaked slowly, the unexpected sound kicking his senses alert. Instinctually, he reached for the gun under his pillow as he saw someone enter the room, but stopped upon realizing who it was. The moonlight streaming in through the open windows illuminated her elegant form as Jo stepped in, her eyes finding his—a small smile playing on her lips.

Sighing, Dean relaxed, leaving the gun and slumping further into the mattress. Looking at her curiously, he raised a brow.

"I-I heard some shuffling. Thought you might need this." Flashing him her pearly whites, Jo placed a bottle of cold water on the bedside table—eyeing him as he lay there in a just pair of sweatpants.

"Oh! That's bad. 'Cause I thought you were here to seduce me." Though his grin was mischievous, the glint in his eyes was missing.

"Well," She drawled, "...will that work.?" Dean didn't answer, but his sad smile told Jo what she needed to know.

The following few moments were silent— almost awkward—making her want to leave, but she didn't. Instead, she slowly moved closer to the bed and sat next to him. Contemplating every move and watching him closely, she raised her hand to his exposed torso. Her touch hesitant, Jo grazed a healing crescent shaped mark on his chest, one of the many covering his body. These were the marks that sang of his bravery, scars telling her how good a soldier Dean was.

Her fingers nimble, Jo moved to an old scar on his arm. "Each one of these tell a story."

"Umm hmm." Staying still beneath her exploring touch, Dean explained. "This one was an angry spirit. Minnesota."

"And this one?"

"Deava, Illinois."

There was a particular long scar running across his waist that made her cringe. "That looks painful."

Dean chuckled at the memory, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. "This was long back. Thought I was gonna die."

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Yeah. I… I'm not so sure about that." Though he tried to be playful, Jo saw the pain flash across his features.

"Dean!" Leaning closer, she traced the recent wound on his forehead, a soothing caress to the healing mark. "None of this is your fault."

"You don't know that, Jo."

"No. Look at me, Dean." Placing her hand on his, Jo looked him in the eye, wishing she could take away his pain for at least a few moments. " You couldn't have done anything about it. I know this is hard on you, but trust me. It'll get better with time. You have to stop blaming yourself for it."

For once, Dean smiled a real smile. "I don't know about that, but thank you, Jo."

He gazed at her, raising a hand, and running his thumb across the smooth skin of her cheek. As he thought about it, Dean realized how easily he had fit in with her. Being with Jo felt so… natural. Like he'd known her all his life.

Wrong time, wrong place!

The voice in his head reminded; Dean let go of her with a sigh, but Jo quickly caught his wrist. If it was just the physical attraction, she would have walked away, but this was different. The desperate urge to comfort him washed over her.

"Jo! I can't…"

"Shh! You don't have to. Just…" Cupping his face, she looked at him and leaned closer—brushing her lips across the scar on his forehead.

She had heard about the Winchester's messed up past from her mom. Though it was just a story until recently, she realized really how messed up it was after she saw Dean. They way his eyes reflected the pain buried in his heart was enough evidence. Though she met him just a couple of days ago, she could see what Dean really was.

Beneath the cocky womanizer was the kid who grew up too fast; who never had a childhood. Behind all the snark, hid the kid who lost more than he would ever accept. Beneath all the tough-hunter-big brother facade was a little lost boy, who needed to be loved and cared for.

A man ready to die for the ones he loved, but never realized how much he was worth to others.

With every kiss she peppered along his scars, her heart broke a little. She wasn't the one for chick-flick moments, but this man was something different.

Mustering courage, Jo crossed the little distance between them, and brushed her lips across his.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

It was tender—meant to comfort him. Not waiting for his response, she pulled away. Considering his situation, it would be wrong to expect that from him. Jo didn't want anything from him. For once, she wanted to give him everything she could.

"Dean!" Jo looked into his glistening eyes. She knew he was fighting to hold his composure—trying to put on the tough-guy mask. "Everything's gonna to be fine."

Giving him an assuring smile, Jo stood up, ready to leave the room, but this time, Dean stopped her.

"Jo?" Swallowing the lump in his throat, he held her hand—a stray tear escaping its confines and trailing down his cheek. "S-stay with me tonight?"

Her gut clenched at the look on his face— so helpless and yearning for comfort. She wasn't expecting him to let his mask slip. Not this easily. Happy to help him in anyway, Jo nodded, climbing in next to him.

Before long, she cradled his head against her chest— her eyes glistening as she felt his warm tears soak her shirt. She smoothed her fingers through his hair, rubbing soothing circles on his back and neck.

No words were exchanged. Just the comforting gestures which spoke volumes. As she held this broken soul in her arms, for the first time in her life, Jo prayed for him, wanting him to have everything he wanted.

Because Dean Winchester deserved to be loved; to be happy.

A/N : There you go. Apologies for all the errors. Thank you for reading. :)

Chamsp.