Jesus.

That's the first thought in John's head as he sees the girl he used to know. He's always remembered her a skinny little girl, tall and lanky, with stringy blonde hair, curious brown eyes and two front teeth that were slightly too big to match the rest of her face, like she'd always stay twelve years old.

That's definitely not the grown woman standing in front of him. She's tall and slim, true, but her hips curve pleasantly and her breasts, however small, are nearly visible through her tank top in the sunlight, so he can see the rosy peaks of her nipples, see the points of them, like she was cold even on the unseasonably warm day. Her jeans clung to her hips and legs and accentuated her pert ass when he saw it as she turned to toss the trashbag she's holding into the dumpster. Her hair is the same blond, but it's got more bounce and a few curls, reflecting the sun brilliantly and as she approaches him, he sees her eyes are the same, bright and wide and excited and the same chocolatey brown. She's grown into her teeth, framed by two full lips, the bottom slightly chapped and swollen from her worrying it between her teeth.

"Jo." It's the only greeting he can manage for her, his mind still recovering from the shock and trying to piece together the little girl in his memory with the grown woman he sees now.

She offers him a smile, a slight uptilt of her lips. "John. How are you doing?"

His shrug is slight, a twitch of his shoulders under his jacket. "I'm alright. How are you doing?"

She nods. "Good. You just missed Dean and Sam."

John's heart tightened at the mention of his sons and he wondered if his eldest had tried to pick the girl up. She was just his type, pretty and long-legged with enough spunk and fire to keep him interested for more than a day. John had no doubts that even if she had let him in her pants, she'd have kicked his ass if he'd skipped out the next morning without a goodbye and his smell still lingering on the pillow.

"They come through often?" It's the only question he can manage that doesn't break his facade, his stony expression, too much.

She shrugs, a slight rise and fall of her slim shoulder. "Often enough that Mom has me keep a few cots ready for them, not that they ever accept. I think the idea of being around other hunters that long, someplace well-known, makes em nervous."

John nodded. He'd taught his sons well enough to know that not all other hunters were to be trusted. Hell, he was walking proof of that, wasn't he, and he cant help but see how much Jo resembles her father. "Good. Maybe Ellen can keep their asses in shape since I can't."

Jo laughed and the sound makes John want to move closer and...But he stays in his spot. He can't explain the want that had resonated through him in that instant.

Yes he can.

It's one word, two syllables that have been carved into his heart since he was 18.

Mary.

Jo reminded him of his wife, back when they'd first started dating, bright and eager with blond hair to her shoulders. But where Mary's eyes were deep blue, Jo's were that chocolate brown and her mouth was different, lips fuller than Mary's, but their figures were so similar, long-legged and slim and the perfect puzzle piece for his arms.

He nearly missed what she was saying in his thoughts, but he was good at that, focusing on the conversation while his mind wandered, used it when hunters talked at him and he was thinking of a hunt.

"I wouldn't doubt it. Probably keep your ass in line too."

John let's a half chuckle out, shaking his head. He didn't doubt that either.

"She inside?"

Jo nodded, biting her lip again. "Yeah. You gonna go in?"

"Maybe. Think she'd pull a gun on me again?"

"Would you be surprised?"

John sighed. No. He wouldn't. "Just tell her I dropped by, okay?"

Jo rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as he turned and started to walk away. "No."

John paused, glancing back. "What?"

"I said no. You want her to know you came by, you tell her yourself. I'm no one's messenger." And with that, she turned and sauntered back inside, and he couldn't keep his eyes off the swell of her ass in those jeans. Her attitude forced a half smile from his lips. Firecracker, that one.

Nevertheless, he follows her into the Roadhouse. She pauses to talk to two hunters sitting at a table. One has his hand on the small of her back, fingers slowly inching down. The monster in his chest, the one that had remained dormant since Sam and Dean set out for their own hunts, growls, protective and possessive. Before he can move, Jo arches a brow at the hunter. "You wanna keep that hand, Travis, I suggest you get it off me."

The hunter laughed good naturedly and let his hand slide off her. "Damn, Jo. Can't let a guy get in a good feel, can ya?"

"Damn straight," she replied with a curt nod and she takes their empty bottles off the table to carry them behind the counter. As she does, he's met with the sight of Ellen just coming out of the back and she stops short when she sees him. Her mouth thins into a line and she crosses her arms over her chest, walking across the room to stand in front of him.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay away from my bar."

John sighs. "Ellen..."

"No. Don't say a thing, John. You can't show up and expect everything to be fine, no matter how long it's been."

Resignation tightens in his chest and he nods. She was right. He shouldn't have come. "I'm sorry."

He turns and makes his way out of the saloon and into his truck, starting the engine and gunning it for the state line.

Jo watched from behind the bar, pretending not to listen, and when he walked away, she watched her mother a moment before she turned, catching her daughter's eyes, and then crossed to slide behind the bar. "Did he talk to you?"

Jo nodded. "A little. Asked about Sam and Dean. About you."

"I don't want you talking to him, Joanna Beth. That man's a good hunter, but he's trouble."

Jo only nodded. She knew the story and what had happened between him and her father. Of course, she was only doing it to placate her mother, but she didn't need to know that.

Later that night, while Jo was cleaning up, half her mind was on her tasks and half was on John, wondering about the reason behind his visit. No way he'd wasted gas and time coming up here just to see if her mother had forgiven him yet. Maybe he just wanted to check on Sam and Dean. But he could do that by phone.

John.

She'd had the biggest schoolgirl crush on him when she was younger, when he'd taken her toy back from Dean for her and tugged gently and teasingly on one of her pigtails. He'd let her climb up in his lap and pretend to drive the Impala until her mother had called her inside to stop bothering 'Uncle John', the normal for all her dad's friends and contacts, like they were all related by blood.

He was different than she remembered, but then, she figured, she was different than he remembered. He favored his right leg slightly when he walked and there were more scars on his hands than she'd remembered. She went about her nightly routines as usual, cleaning up, closing up, shower and brushing her teeth and getting into her nightclothes and getting under the covers.

She'd still been thinking about John and her Mom and her Dad when she fell asleep.