Dean carried the letter into the post office. It felt like it weighed a ton. He walked over to the shoot and stood there a moment. He stared at the name. Journey Farrell. It had been almost two years since he had seen her. Since he had promised he would come back. Now, he had three days left on his deal. He opened the shoot and dropped the letter in.

He turned and walked out. He climbed in his beloved baby as his cell phone rang. He answered it.

"Yeah?" he asked starting the car.

"Dean, where are you?" Sam asked.

"Dude, I went out for pie. Can't a condemned man have a last meal?"

"Dean, you aren't going to die. I... I'll find something."

Dean was silent. He shook his head. Sammy, his little brother wasn't going to let him go without a fight. Too bad Dean knew it was hopeless. In seventy-two hours he, Dean Winchester would be dead. Leaving everyone he cared and loved behind.

"Dean, you still there?"

"I'm here, Sam. I'll be there in a couple minutes."

Dean hung up the phone and tossed it on the seat beside him. He stared at the open road ahead of him. He had given up Journey for this. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, babe. I am so sorry," he whispered before he turned on the radio and let AC/DC drown out his thoughts.

***

A week later...

Journey dragged her bag behind her as she climbed the steps of her house. She saw the stack of mail in the mailbox and moaned. She dropped her bag and reached for it.

"Stupid people sending me things I don't want," she muttered.

She had spent four hours in her car driving home from a seminar. She had hated it. Just a bunch of stuffy History professors getting drunk and trying to be cool. No one had talked about any History. Unless you counted the history of who was banging who. She sorted though her mail.

"Bill, bill, party invitation which I will not go to, bill, bill, letter from Dean, bill- Wait," she said going back.

She went back and stared at the letter. She saw his writing and felt her heart beat faster. She looked at the return address and smiled. She shook her head a little. Classic Dean. It read, Dean Winchester, 67 Impala Road, Anywhere, USA.

"He still hasn't grown up," she whispered.

She sat on her front steps staring at the letter. She quickly stuffed the rest of her mail in her bag. She took a deep breath then ripped the envelope open. She pulled out the letter. She unfolded it. She read the first line.

'Journey, babe, when you get this, I'll... Ah hell, there is no easy to put this. By the time you get this, my ass is going to be deader than a doornail.'

Journey stopped there. She closed the letter and stood up. She quickly grabbed the keys to her house and unlocked the door kicking her bag inside. She knew she would need liquor if she was going to finish this letter. Lots of liquor.

***

Journey eyed the half empty bottle of tequila. She guessed she was about ready to read the letter now. She mentally cursed Dean Winchester as she grabbed the letter and unfolded it again. He had always been able to make her feel way too much. She ran a hand over her eyes and took a deep breath. She read the first line again and then willed herself to move on.

'Now that I have probably given you a heart attack, I better explain before you jump in the car and take off. Although, where the fuck do I start? Crap, I really wish I knew.

I guess we could start with what I do. I am not a journalist. I... Dude, I hunt demons. And no, I am not crazy, despite what you think. My mom... She died in a fire caused by a demon. My dad found out and raised me and my brother to hunt these evil sons of a bitches. We have this motto, saving people, hunting thing, the family business.... You are so laughing at me aren't you?'

Journey wasn't laughing. She had grabbed the bottle and was drinking the rest of it in record time. Her mind went back to those three weeks they had been together two years ago. God, she had fallen hard from him. His smile, his laughter, his... Everything. She remembered the way his eyes had looked at her during their love making. How he would smack her ass every time she walked by him. How he would wink at her as he washed the dishes. Memories just kept hitting her. She shook them off and went back to the letter.

'I wanted to tell you when I was with you but... I made that mistake before. And the girl thought I was nuts and...Well, babe, you already thought I was weird. I didn't... Hell, I didn't want my life touching you, Journey. You had a life, alright a little boring by my standards but you enjoyed it. I didn't want mess with that. Which now, is a damn good thing.

You remember I told you about my brother, Sammy? How you two would get along? Geek boy and Nerd girl? Well, last year... He died. It was my fault. I should have been paying more attention I knew the demons were after him but... I let myself relax for just a moment and they had him. When I got to him it was too late. My baby brother died in my arms. I... I couldn't lose him, babe. He was... He was the only family I had left. I did what I had to do.'

"Oh God, Dean, what did you do?" Journey said her hand shaking as it gripped the bottle tighter.

She dropped the letter and ran hand though her brown hair. She let it fall over one shoulder as she took calming breaths. She had a really bad feeling about what she was about to read. She looked at the letter. Dean's messy printing covered it. She closed her eyes and breathed.

"Dean, what did you do?" she whispered in her empty house.

She grabbed the letter and willed her hand to stop shaking. She knew that what she was about to read was going to send her over the edge.

'Remember Robert Johnson and the Crossroads legend? Well... Babe, take notes cause it is real. And it works. Downfall of course is your selling your soul to a demon. I am not going to tell you exactly how to make the deal, cause... I know you. You would go there, after hours of research of course and...Probably get yourself killed. So, I will just tell you that... I made a deal to have Sam back. And the demon gave it... For a price. One year. That's how long I got. Usual deal is ten but... Guess I'm freakin special.

So, in three days, I am going to be chow for some hellhounds. And this whole year, it... It had me thinking about the things I regret. And I realized something. Out of everything I had done in my life, my biggest regret was leaving you behind.

I know that we would have probably never worked. Not here in my life. And... No matter how much you mean to me, your life, being normal it... It wouldn't work for me. I know all that in my head but... My heart kind of won't listen. And I so just had a chick flick moment. Shit.'

Journey felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. She drank the rest of the tequila. She dropped the letter and got up. She tossed the bottle in the sink not caring when she heard it smash into pieces. She opened the cupboard doors. She looked at the bottle in front of her. It was a bottle of Jack Daniels. Dean's favourite. She had bought it after he had left telling herself he would be back. But now... He wasn't coming back. Ever.

She grabbed it and tore the cap off. She slammed the cupboard shut as she took a swig. The brown liquid burned down her throat. She slammed the bottle on the counter and coughed. Tears burned her eyes and she let them fall. Dean was dead. Dean Winchester, the man she had loved. He had turned her life upside down when he had walked in and then again when he had left. She had hated him for it and loved him for it at the same time.

Before him, she had been a quiet book worm. She had spent most of her time in the library buried waist high in the books of the history section. That's how she had met Dean. He had been at the library and she had run into him, literally. Her books had fallen to the floor and the only thing that had kept her upright after hitting the brick wall of muscle had been Dean. He had held her by her arms and smiled that gorgeous smile of his.

"I do believe you almost fell for me," had been his pick up line. Not that he needed one. One look at him and all you wanted to do was have sex with him.

After a night of mind blowing sex, Dean had admitted it was her violet eyes that had drawn him to her. She had blushed. She had never thought she had been pretty. She, of course being the honest person she is, admitted this to Dean. He had her call in sick the next day so he could show her how pretty and desirable she was.

After those three weeks, she had become a new person. She had become more open and... Funner according to her students. She took another swig of the whiskey. She wiped her tears away and turned and looked at the table. The letter sat there. She knew she had to finish it. Although, she wondered what else Dean had to tell her. She walked over to the table and took her seat again. She set the bottle down beside her. She picked up the paper.

'Journey, I get that I have no right to do this to you two years after the fact. Hell, you are probably married with a baby on the way. I bet you found some other professor and you two are happy. And by me sending this to you, it will probably make you have to answer a shit load of questions you never wanted to, so... Sorry. If it helps you can tell him, I am going to die. I just... I need to say this.

I cared about you. I know it doesn't seem like it. Me leaving and hardly ever calling but... I did. And I think... Well, I am pretty sure I might even love you. Not that any of this matters now. I am being so selfish right now but... I don't care. For the past year I have done everything I wanted or tried to. You have no idea how many times I have picked up my cell and almost dialled your number. I never did. I thought you were happy, better off without me. Guess now we'll never know.

Babe, I don't want you to mourn me. Once you read this letter, crumple it up, burn it, I don't care just get rid of it. And... Forget me. Even as I write that I can see you sitting at the table shaking your head. Probably also mumbling about how I am always ordering you around.'

Journey smiled when she realized that had been exactly what she had been doing. She wiped more tears away and shook her head. She sighed and brushed her hair away from her face. Dean had no right to tell her not to mourn him. She would do what she wanted. He wasn't here anyway. She gripped the bottle and took another swig.

"I will mourn you if I want, pain in my ass. It is my right," she muttered, "Not that you deserve it. I mean, one has to wonder how many girls you left across this country the same way you left me."

She drank more and felt her stomach start to revolt against the amount of liquor she had drank. She didn't care. She went back to the letter. There wasn't much left. She forced herself to read it.

'Babe, I am only saying this because... I am not worth your tears. If you knew some of the things I have done, you would agree. I won't list them here, no room but trust me, a good girl like you has no business crying over a... Well, to use your word as you tossed a plate at my head when I was leaving, asshole like me. Although, we both know that you really think I am awesome.

Well, now that I have ruined your day, I should go. Sam is starting to look at me funny. I think he thinks I'm writing my memoirs or something. Yeah, sure. Like I would leave a paper trail behind. I am smarter than that. So, babe, look after yourself. Please. I... I need you to be okay, for me. Live your life and... Don't look back. I ain't worth it.

Be happy, Journey. And don't settle. Oh, and raise a little hell. Loosen that bun up once in awhile. Shit, never knew saying goodbye was so damn hard. Dammit, I love you Journey Farrell.'

And that was it. Journey read it again. Then again. Every time she read it a little bit more of her heart died. She grabbed the letter and the bottle. She left the kitchen. She walked upstairs to her room. Her room with the bed she had shared with Dean. She stood in the doorway and looked at her room. Everything was the same. She hadn't changed a damn thing since those weeks. She suddenly felt anger. She dropped the letter on the floor.

She drank the last of the whiskey and went to work. It was time for a change. She tossed the bottle on the floor and walked in her bedroom. She shoved everything off the dresser. She heard her once beloved ballerina figurines break into a dozen pieces but she didn't care. She pulled down the curtain rod and used it to smash and tear down all the pictures. She made four holes in the wall but she didn't care. She started to sob. She tore apart the sheets on her bed. She knocked over lamps and then stopped. She had too. She was crying too much.

"Damn you, you selfish bastard. Didn't you think about the people who love you? Who needed you to be alive somewhere out there in the world. How could you? HOW COULD YOU?!" she screamed.

She crumpled to the floor hugging herself. She laid there and cried. She knew this would be her life form now on. Dean could ask whatever he wanted but she would mourn him. He was worth it... To her.

***

Four months later...

Dean stood at the door. He hadn't wanted to come. Sam had made him. He knew he should have never told Sam about Journey and the letter like what, six hours before he died. The minute he came back, Sam started nagging at him. So, here he was. Two days after dealing with the witnesses and finding out the apocalypse was here, he was at Journey's door. He was scared.

He knocked and waited. He looked around the front yard. Her once beautiful flower beds were overrun with weeds and the house needed a new paint job. And the grass could use a trim and.... Dude, the list went on. He looked up when he heard the lock turning in the door. He waited to see her. After two and a half years.

"Laura, I said I was fine. I know that my leaving was a-," Journey said pulling open the door.

Journey stared at the sight before her. Dean. Alive. Dean smiling at her. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She raked a hand though her brown hair and swore.

"No, you aren't real. I am dreaming again," she said tears falling.

"Babe, I am flattered that you still dream about me, but I am real. I... I am back," he said his heart breaking at the sight of her.

Journey had never been too fat or too thin but now... her clothes hung off of her. Her hair was a mess and... Dean wrinkled his nose. When was the last time she had showered? This was not to composed girl he had known. She looked at him and he saw her red puffy eyes. He had done this. God, she had taken it worse than Sam by the looks of it.

"Back from the dead? I wish... I prayed... No, I am imagining this."

Journey went back in the house. She knew he followed her. She went into the kitchen. She threw open the cupboard and grabbed the only thing that they held now, whiskey. Her hand shook badly. She felt Dean wrap his hand around hers. He was real. Oh God. He was back. More tears came. She leaned against him. She inhaled his scent.

"Journey, stop. It's okay," he whispered.

"No, it's not. When I got your letter and... I couldn't do it. I didn't want to be in a world where you weren't," she cried.

"I told you not to mourn me."

"Did you really think I was going to listen?"

Dean placed the bottle of whiskey on the counter. He was a little shocked. Journey had always been a tequila girl. He picked her up in his arms. He carried her to the stairs and tried to ignore the huge disaster that was the rest of the house. He carried her up the stairs and to what he remembered was her room. He got there and pushed open the door. He stood there shocked. It was a wreck.

"I couldn't look at it," Journey said hugging him.

"Babe, I am sorry," he said.

"I love you too, Dean. And when you were gone, it hurt but... At least I would get a voice mail every few months letting me know you were alive. This time... You were gone for good. I... It hurt more than I thought it would."

Journey felt Dean carry her down the hall the guest room. She buried her face against his neck. She cried tears of happiness. He was okay. He was alive. She let him place her on the bed. She pulled him down beside her. He sat beside her. He looked at her sadly.

"I... This place looks horrible," he said.

"Sorry."

"I think I should be telling you that. Babe, I... I can't stay."

"I know. But... Thank you for coming to see me. And... Thank God you're back. How?"

"Doesn't matter. Journey, I am going to stay and clean up a little for you. Okay?"

"You don't have too."

"I want to. So, you get some sleep. Cause, honey, you look like shit."

"Bastard."

"My parents were married, thank you very much."

Dean watched as Journey shook her head. She rolled over on her side. He got up and went to walk out of the room. But seeing her there, it was too tempting. He went back and pulled off his jacket and boots. He climbed in bed beside her. She turned towards him. He held her.

"Don't die again," she whispered.

"I'll try," he said.

"Try real hard."

"I will."

***

Dean dumped the glass in the garbage. He turned. He had made some progress in cleaning Journey's house. He looked at the clock. She had been sleeping for five hours. He turned and went back to cleaning. He found a piece of paper folded into a square. He picked it up and opened it. He looked at it not quite believing it. It was his letter. It had tons of creases in it telling Dean Journey had read it over and over again.

He shook his head and placed it on the table. He looked at it.

"Does that girl ever listen?" he asked himself.

"Yes, but not to you," she said.

Journey watched as Dean turned and faced her. She smiled. She had woken up and taken a shower still half convinced she go downstairs and find Dean gone and still dead. Instead here he was, alive and in her living room. She went over to him. She hugged him.

"I... I thought it was a dream but you're here," she said.

"I am. Journey, I thought I told you to get rid of the letter after you read it."

"You did, but... It was the last thing I had from you. I... I needed it."

Dean nodded. He pulled away and looked into her violet eyes. He leaned in and kissed her. He raked his hands though her damp hair and held her close.

"I was going to order something to eat. What do you want?"

"Doesn't matter. How long are you staying?"

"I... I'll leave later tonight."

"Okay. Then who cares about food?"

Journey kissed Dean again pulling at his clothes. He picked her up and carried her upstairs.

***

Journey watched as Dean pulled his clothes back on. She reached out and ran a hand along the back of his neck as he sat down to pull on his boots. He turned and smiled at her. He leaned in and kissed her again. She looked into his green eyes and realized he was never going to tell her the words he wrote in the letter. She sighed. She stroked his cheek.

"Be safe," she said.

"I will. I'll... I'll be back," he told her.

Dean saw her nod. He kissed her again then stood up. He grabbed his jacket. He walked to the door. He took one more look of her laying bed. He smiled then was gone.

Journey looked at the doorway even after he was gone. She closed her eyes. His words echoed in her head. I'll be back. It was what he had said last time. And last time she had gotten a letter in the mail saying he was going to die. She sighed. When he was gone, she felt empty. But at least he was out there somewhere. She knew in about two months she'd get a voicemail saying he was okay. Too bad she wanted him here with her instead.

A/N: Okay, I am still working on Change of Fate, but this idea hit me and... Wouldn't leave. It is a one shot. So, hope you enjoyed.