Author's Note: Howdy, ya'll. It's been a long time, I know. Hopefully this makes up for my long absence. Huge thank you and lots of love to Valerie E. Mackin for her unerring support and swift kicks to my ass and head.

This is a new fandom for me, so be nice, please. I haven't read many Supernatural fics to date, so be gentle on me.

Slightly AU: Imagine if Ellen didn't come get her daughter after her hunt with the boys in No Exit. Just pretend Dean promised Ellen they would deliver her safe and sound back to the roadhouse. Title of fic comes from Jason Isbell's song of the same name. Pretty much all of his album The Nashville Sound has been my constant companion while writing this.


With a soft crack of her shoulder, Jo stretched as she stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her damp frame, copious amounts of steam flowing into the room with he. She couldn't remember the last time she enjoyed a shower as much that one. It had alleviated some of the aches that seemed to fill her body. Bar tending hadn't really prepared her for squishing through tight spaces, being dragged by a specter, or trying to escape from a metal box in the dark.

She shuddered slightly as she thought about the dirty holes the specter had shoved her and Theresa into, not to mention the creepy petting they had to endure. Jo closed her eyes and shook her head, pushing those thoughts aside, lest she need another lengthy shower. She needed to be stronger than this if she wanted to continue hunting. No hunter, much less Dean Winchester, would ever take her seriously if she let herself fall apart after this one hunt. Seasoned hunters had experienced way worse things than being taken and groped by a creepy-ass ghost.

With a steadying shake of her head, she reached into her backpack, searching for clothes when the door to the apartment slammed open. Dean stumbled into the apartment carrying an armload of brown bags and a bewildered look as he tried to regain his footing.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself as he moved back to the door with certainty, giving it a swift kick for his troubles. He winced for a second, studying the doorframe intently for damage. "Well it ain't my deposit," he said, shrugging and turning toward the kitchen.

It was only after Jo could no longer hold back a giggle that Dean realized she was there and that she realized he could see her. His look of surprise turned to something entirely different as she tightened the towel around her and grabbed the first shirt and set of underthings she could from her bag.

"Didn't expect you back so soon," she smiled feebly as she felt another soft tremor flow through her body. Though this one had a lot less to do with the terror she'd felt in the sewer and more to do with the with the foreign look in the other hunter's eyes. If Jo didn't know any better, she'd almost swear Dean looked...hungry?

His expression was gone in an instant. Dean cleared his throat and began to hurriedly divest himself of his spoils, turning his attention to the groceries instead of her. "You use up all the hot water?" he groused, the friendly big brother tone back in his voice as he unloaded beer into the fridge.

Recognizing an escape when she saw one, Jo smiled nervously, backing toward the bathroom. "Mighta left you some. Gimme a second and the bathroom is all yours."

"No rush, sweetheart. Got all night," he assured her as he opened one of the beers, tilting the open mouth toward her in salute. "Cuz you done good today."

With a small, embarrassed smile, Jo closed the door and rested her forehead against it for a second before taking a deep breath and stepping back to get dressed. She let the damp towel hit the floor before tugging her panties into place. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she put her bra on, suddenly wishing she had grabbed coordinating under things when she packed for this trip.

Silently she berated herself. No one but her was going to see if her panties matched her bra tonight. She needed to let this post-hunt adrenaline go before she did something stupid and embarrassed herself in front of the Winchesters, most importantly Dean.

They had had some sort of connection before the past two days, but even he had to admit they worked well together despite the overbearing protection crap he pulled. She was fairly certain Sam would have treated her different if they had been paired up to explore the building. He may not have liked her going solo either but he wasn't the one questioning her every move, tearing apart her every bit of research.

She shuddered at the thought of the destruction Dean had handed the wall when he had tried to reach her. She'd heard it after Holmes grabbed her and seen it while they were collecting their tools and gear after all was said and done and the cement was cooling. Dean had given her a half a smile as she whistled low at the sight, almost as if he'd been embarrassed at the ferocity of his reaction.

"Told your mom I'd bring you home safe," he explained as he picked up the sledge hammer, slinging it across his shoulder., Bravado covered his embarrassment as he slid his arms over each end of wooden handle. "I'd rather face 10 of Holmes than go back to your mom without you," he admitted. "Not after I promised."

"After you lied to her the first time she called you," she reminded him.

With a self-satisfied shrug, he had given her half a laugh as he walked past her toward their temporary apartment. "Minor details."

Jo scoffed. "She's eaten more charming men than you for breakfast, you know."

He turned to see if she was following him. "You think I'm charming?" he started, the smugness seeming to drip from his entire being. Before she could respond, a look of sudden realization flashed over Dean's face.

"Wait!" He stopped abruptly, turning to look back at her thoughtfully. "Your mom thinks I'm charming? Think I've got a chance there?" The tip of his tongue danced against his upper teeth as he grinned widely at Jo as he waggled - how cliche- his eyebrows.

Jo smiled at herself in the foggy mirror, shaking her head at the enigma that was Dean Winchester. She grabbed the shirt from the sink edge and and her smile disappeared as she shook it loose.

"Damnit! "she muttered exasperatedly as she took in exactly which shirt it was she'd picked up.

She heard the sound of glass against the door, and she realized after she jumped and squealed it was Dean's beer. "You alright?" he called, the knob on the door making a slight noise, as if he was about to turn it.

"YEAH!" She called hastily, pulled the well worn shirt over her head. "Stubbed my toe," she lied before grabbing her jeans off the floor. "Be out in second."

She heard him release the door handle and step back. "Alright. Food's getting cold."

Buttoning her jeans, she sighed at her reflection. Her grade school softball shirt glared back at her. She might as well put her hair in pigtails. She couldn't look anymore like she was just a kid.

Brushing her hair forward over her shoulders, letting it drape over her shirt as much as possible, she opened the door and padded out into the apartment in bare feet. She glanced at Dean seated in the lazy boy, shoveling some form of food from a white Chinese take out carton into his mouth with chopsticks. He smiled with his eyes as he stood up, slurping the noodles dangling from his lips into his mouth.

"I'm next," he crowed, plonking the box down on the table and taking a long drink from his beer. Jo smiled at him and grabbed her bag tight to her chest, heading for the bedroom. Standing with her back to the door, she stuffed her filthy clothes into one of the side pouches.

Once the bathroom door clicked shut and she heard the water start, along with what sounded like Dean singing, she dug through her bag for something else to wear, even though she knew there was nothing. She hadn't packed much. The few decent pieces she did pack she had worn during the hunt, and there was no way she was putting that back on. She was seriously considering burning the shirt, if she was honest with herself.

With a defeated purse of her lips, she zipped the bag shut and tossed it to the floor. Jo cheered a bit to Dean's gravely rendition of "Can't You See" while she opened the remaining cartons on the table. Finding one that suited her, she grabbed a pair of chopsticks, settling in the recliner with a pout. Turning on the seat, she settled her back half against one arm, half against the back and draped her legs across the opposite arm.

Gonna climb me a mountain, the highest mountain
Jump off, nobody gonna know

Finally comfortable, she let her mind wander through the fields of memory and distraction as she dug into the beef and broccoli that smelled heavenly. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until the first bit of vegetable hit her lips. She couldn't even remember the last time she ate. Chewing carefully, she closed her eyes and followed her random thought pattern through an illogical jump that hopefully didn't lead her back to the dark cell in the basement.

I'm gonna find me a hole in the wall
I gonna crawl inside and die
Cause my lady now, mean ol' woman lord, never told me goodbye

Absently humming along with Dean, she tried to think back to the last time she had chinese. It certainly was not at the roadhouse, there was next to nothing outside of moonshine that could be labeled as "ethnic" in that part of Nebraska. Maybe it was when she did a run for her mom to Kansas City to pick up supplies that were on backorder from the company that usually delivered them.

Ride me a Southbound
All the way to Georgia now
Till the train run out of track

She had taken Ash, mostly for the company. They had talked about various cases she had heard other hunters talk about in the bar, and the cases Ash was currently working on. Hunters weren't well known for their technological prowess, so Ash had a fair amount of work to get through. He had tried to explain how he was tracking one creature through the backwoods of Montana, where it was picking off seemingly random number of cattle, but he had actually found the pattern to prove it wasn't as random as everyone else had thought.

Can't you see, oh can't you see
What that woman, she been doin' to me

The two of them had stopped at a hole-in-the-wall place in a strip mall after loading up the truck with the cases of whiskey, tequila, and swizzle sticks. It had to be some of the best Chinese food Jo had ever eaten. Until Ash pointed out the amount of MSG it contained.

It was only when the bathroom door opened that she realized she hadn't heard the shower or singing in a while. Working to keep her jaw firmly in place, she watched Dean walk out into the main part of the apartment, dressed only in a pair of jeans, a towel draped over his naked shoulders. Jo swallowed hard against the warmth that filled her body at the sight of far more Dean than she'd ever experienced before, and tried to drag her traitorous eyes back to her lap where she half-ass stirred her chopsticks through her chosen food.

Dean's eyes narrowed momentarily at his usurped seat, but instead of commenting like Jo knew he would have with Sam, he simply tossed his towel to the side, picked up his food and continued inhaling it where he'd left off, opting to circling the room slowly rather than find another seat.

Several minutes of mutually silent eating later, Jo couldn't decide just how uncomfortable she really was. She'd had her fill of the take-out but couldn't come up with anything to say that didn't sound woefully juvenile or just plain stupid. She swung her legs to the floor nervously, hoping Dean didn't notice the red flush the swept over her face every time his wandering took him past her.

A dull pain echoed through her leg where she had tried to kick open her prison earlier. She knew there was going to be a bruise come tomorrow. Setting the container holding what was left of her dinner and chopsticks on the floor, she reached down to pull her pant leg up, searching for the red mark she knew was there.

"You al'ight?" Dean asked, stopping his continuous pacing to watch her, concern lacing his tone, even if he didn't take time to swallow his mouthful of noodles.

Following the bare feet up the jean clad legs to the equally bare stomach in front of her- where the hell is his shirt- Jo swallowed hard as she forced herself to look up at his face, certain he was trying to melt her brain. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Just gonna have a bruise." She sat back and showed him, pointing her toe slightly as she stretched her leg out between them.

Spinning one of the chairs around from the table to face her, he set his own take out to the side and reached for her leg as he sat on the edge of the seat. She jerked slightly, not anticipating the feel of his rough hand on the back of her calf. He looked at her with a half a smirk. "Don't be a baby," he scolded, pulling her foot up for a closer look. The angle he held it made Jo lean back into the overstuffed chair, her hands gripping at the arms. Brushing one finger over the reddened skin, he nodded. "Looks like you'll live. Don't think we'll have to amputate."

Drawing her lip between her teeth, she could only nod, trying to come up with some sort of coherent response, but all she could think of was the unsettling heat that was spreading through her body his touch. It has been entirely too long since she had been touched by someone, much less a man who looked at her the way Dean could. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, hiding her face from his view with her hair.

"You sure you're okay, Jo?" Her foot fell back to the floor as he released it to lean forward, brushing hair back from her cheek.

She jerked from his touch again, trying to save herself the embarrassment of him seeing her reddened cheeks. There was too much post-hunt-I-might-not-have-lived-til-morning still running through her system, and she needed to find someway to release it. And the little voice in the back of her head was insisting Dean was just that right way.

"Hey, hey," he cooed softly, mistaking her jumpiness for something more to do with her recently experienced trauma in the sewer than what was actually on her brain. He grabbed her chin gently between his fingers, turning her toward him as he settled on his heels next to the chair. "You're safe no-"

No longer fighting him or herself, Jo's liquid chocolate eyes landed on his emerald ones, and Dean's breath caught in his throat. She didn't know what he was looking for in her eyes, but it seemed he found it as he turned his fingers to skim between her hair and her cheek, cupping her soft skin in his roughened palm. Jo closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. When she opened her eyes again, she found his freckled face a breath's width from her own. She watched her own hand float up his arm, skimming over his shoulder before coming to rest on his neck..

"Jo," he almost whispered, as if he was trying to warn her away. His face warred between hesitance and that hunger she thought she'd seen earlier.

Unable to stop herself, the blonde leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, laying gentle kisses to his parted mouth. Dean froze for a brief moment, his fingers tense against her cheek.

She wasn't sure who sighed first, but the tiny sound was all it took to set both their hands into motion, tangling into hair, grabbing hips and shoulders, drawing the other closer as their tongues met, sending sharp electricity through Jo's system.