Never woulda seen the trouble that I'm in
If it hadn't been for love
Woulda been gone like a wayward wind
If it hadn't been for love
The window panes banged together as the mid-morning breeze pushed through the open window. The drapes flapped freely, and Jo hated them. She was jealous of their free will, it seemed criminal that they were to be so blissful in such a dreary place. She wanted to rip them from the rod that held them to the wall and burn them. But she didn't. She couldn't. Instead she stretched her limbs as far as they would go on her small frame. She frowned when she found the space next to her empty. Untangling herself from the plain white sheets, she rose from the mattress, placed in the middle of the room and shut the window.
When Sam died Dean wanted to retire and no amount of debate would change that, but by that point Jo would have followed him anywhere. And she did, to the small town of Brandon, South Dakota. They bought a small fixer upper on the outskirts of town with the money that Jo had saved.
Retired or not they would always be hunters so the need for privacy and security was a must.
It was a small farm house that sat on an acre of land and had two floors, although the stairs were in such disarray that it was inaccessible at the moment. She was told by the realtor that it had two bedrooms and a bathroom up there, the master bedroom including a walk in closet, had yet to be seen. For now they had set up their bedroom in the small dining room which flowed into the kitchen, a hallway in the corner of the dining room wrapped around the back of the house to the living room, and an ornate archway, inexplicably untouched by decay lead back into the kitchen. That archway was one of the main reason's Jo wanted this house.
The house hadn't been occupied in over twenty years, the amount of dirt and grime that had collected, threatened to overwhelm Jo more than once, but Dean was a Godsend. Sort of.
He threw himself into the house. Anything not to think about his brother, he never even said his name, making Jo think that she shouldn't either. Within a day they had the dining room and kitchen clean, in two, the living room, the downstairs bathroom, and the small laundry room done. On the third day they painted, and the fourth they moved in what little furniture they had.
Bobby had given over one of the working trucks from the junk yard, with several old pieces of furniture and handed Dean the keys. "Don't say I never gave you anything." He said and walked back into the house. Dean and him hadn't spoken since. They weren't angry with each other, they just couldn't look at one another and keep up the facade they had worked so hard for. Jo would call Bobby every other day just to make sure he was okay. Most day's he wouldn't answer.
After the first week of renovations, their savings were running out quick, so Jo took a waitressing job at a truck stop nearby. Dean took up the mechanic position at the connecting garage, collecting enough money to get a security system up.
They had been civilians for two months. Jo's skin practically crawled at the normalcy.
As Jo looked out the gauzy curtains she could see Dean through the trees digging holes for the eight foot iron link fence they got yesterday. She grabbed her shorts from the chair by the window and padded into the kitchen. She poured the coffee Dean must have made before going outside, into the only two mugs that they owned, slipped on her sneakers and made her way through the trees to where Dean was working.
"Hey," She said over the wind. "How's it going?"
Dean stopped what he was doing and wiped the sweat off his face on the bandana he had hanging out of his back pocket. "So far so good, thank you." He said as he took the coffee she handed him.
"How long have you been out here?" She looked down the path he was making with the fence, he must have been at it awhile, "I didn't even hear you get up."
Dean chuckled and shook his head, "You were snoring up a storm, I'm not surprised." He took a sip of the coffee and put it down on a flat rock nearby, "I couldn't sleep."
Jo nodded, sipping on her own coffee as she sat down on a fallen down tree. "I would have stayed up with you." Jo offered, she hated seeing him restless, "I don't work today."
Dean shook his head, picking up the shovel he was using. "No use having us both sleep deprived. One of us needs to be alert." He said breaking up dirt clods with the shovel.
Jo wracked her brain for anything she could talk to him about. Lately if it wasn't about the house it was dead silent. Both still grieving those they lost by never speaking of them. "I thought Gary was going to help you with this." Jo gestured to the fence. Dean's boss Gary had told them where to get the fence and insisted on coming over to help.
Dean nodded, picking up his coffee for another sip. "He's coming around ten." Dean glanced at his watch. "I just had to do something with my hands, and I didn't want to wake you."
"Oh, okay." Jo responded. The same awkward silence that had been hanging around for days filled the small forest of their backyard. Jo looked down at her coffee cup, the tree she was sitting on, and the fence, anything to avoid eye contact with him.
For weeks they hadn't touched each other, they walked around each other, they didn't kiss, they didn't even cuddle in their sleep. Both too afraid that any contact they had with each other would just remind them of something they could never forget.
Dean was the first one to speak. "Jo." He cleared his throat. "I..." He trailed off. He wiped his hand down his face like he does when he's frustrated. "I know you didn't sign up for this." Jo turned her attention to her coffee cup. "I know that this, that I'm not what you wanted."
Jo's head snapped up, "I never said that."
Dean let go of the breath he had been holding and moved to kneel in front of her. "You didn't have to." He went to reach for her hand, but stopped himself. "If I'm not working, I'm at the bottom of a bottle, and I'm just so angry. All the time."
"It's okay." Jo whispered, her voice not strong enough for anymore volume than that. It was true, Dean had lashed out at her more than once in the last couple of months, not physically, but he would yell and he would throw things. He would go into fits of rage at the turn of a dime, but Jo had dealt with angry drunk men all her life.
"No, it's not okay." Dean's voice started to raise, he took a step back, steadying his breathing before he spoke again. "You deserve better." He moved to sit next to her on the tree, "I just... I want you to know that I'm trying. I just need some time."
"Dean, I'm not trying to push you in any sort of direction, maybe towards the stairs a bit," She nudged his shoulder with her cup, trying to get him to crack a smile, only to get the barest of curls on his lip. "I want you to be happy, no matter how you get there." Then quietly as if only to herself, "I'm not going anywhere."
She could feel Dean's eyes on her as his hand snaked its way under her arm and reached for her hand. His fingers intertwined with hers as if God himself made their hands for one another. The heat from the palm of his hand radiated through hers and up her arm, pulling her eyes to meet his. All the weeks with pain coated in his eyes, it was nice to see that old spark of hope that was normally a staple reappear.
By the time Gary showed up Jo had already returned to the house, showered and gotten dressed. She made work of cleaning the kitchen just to fill the time. When she was done with that, she stood in the middle of the room looking for anything to keep her hands busy. She spied the boys outside, Dean had taken off his shirt in the heat and Jo was mesmerized by the muscles on his back. The way his skin rippled with his movements made Jo salivate.
Finally deciding she pulled out the small cooler Dean used for his lunches and filled it with ice. She shoved as many beers as she could in it and headed down to where they were working.
"Oh God, Jo, your fucking amazing," Gary howled as she made her way through the small forest.
Jo waved her had at him, "Get over it Gary."
Dean smiled wiping his face with the bandana, squinting in the sun, "I'm serious, Jo," Garry continued, rushing for the cooler, "If Dean hadn't already snatched you up, I would totally pull a Say Anything and be under your window with a boom box."
"Watch yourself, Gary," Dean warned as he cracked open a beer. "Thanks babe." He cheered his bottle toward Jo.
Jo pulled her long hair over her shoulder, "You're welcome." She shoved her hands in her pockets, "Hey, so, I'm gonna go into town for a bit."
"Oh yeah?" Dean asked, taking another gulp. "For what?"
"I'm gonna go to the library." She tried to keep her voice even, it was getting harder and harder to keep this up. "Gonna look up some renovation ideas." She explained walking backwards, pulling her hair over to the opposite shoulder. Small strands sticking to her skin in the heat. "I'll be back around dinner time." She turned and waved her goodbye jogging up to her mom's old station wagon.
She got half way to the library before she reached under the seat and pulled out her messenger bag. It was filled with books she had gotten the previous week and notebooks consumed with notes and ideas. Even if Dean had given up, Jo had not. She was determined, obsessed with finding a way to get Sam back.
Jo made her way to her usual table in the back of the non-fiction section. No one was ever there unless it was a teenager doing homework. She liked going there. It reminded her of the library at her high school, a place she spent most of her days.
She studied for hours. Rubbing her eyes she glanced down at her watch. Sighing she started to pack her stuff up and head home. When she got to the wagon, she shoved the bag under the seat and put the car in drive.
Their house was almost exactly two miles outside of town. You had to actually measure from the welcome sign to their driveway. Especially in the dark. The dense forest hid the driveway from view perfectly. You had to know where you were looking in order to find it, and then it was a half mile till you could even see the house.
When Jo pulled up the only light she could see was the one from the kitchen. She could just make out Dean's shadow at the table through the gauzy curtains. He sat there staring at the glass in his hand, swirling it around. Jo didn't need to be able to see what he was doing, it was the same thing he did ever night.
"I'm home," She called as she came through the front door.
"In here." She heard him softly answer.
She set her purse down by the door, following the sound of his voice.
There he sat, staring at the glass of whiskey in his hand. "Hey," she said as she entered the room.
He looked up at her, his eyes glassed over and far away. "Hey." He cleared his throat, his eyes clearing as the seconds past. "How was the library?"
Jo went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. "Uhm, it was fine. I guess." She shrugged taking the seat across from him.
"Oh yeah?" Dean took a sip of his whiskey, watching her over the rim of his glass. "Find anything good?"
Jo pulled her hair over her shoulder. "No, not really. Nothing I liked."
Dean nodded slowly, "What was there?" He leaned his elbows on the table. "Might give me an idea."
Jo eyed him, switching her hair from one shoulder to the other. "Nothing really we haven't seen before."
Dean nodded, standing to refill his glass. "Do we have a deck of cards?"
"No, I don't think so, why?" Jo asked taking a sip of her beer.
"Well, sweetheart," Dean purred setting his glass back on the table before taking his seat. "You have the most obvious tell ever. I'm surprised you made as much money as you did hustling."
Jo made thousands of dollars hustling hunters at the Roadhouse. There really wasn't much lying involved. All she really had to do was wear a low cut shirt and some daisy dukes, and the fools would lay their money down.
Jo took another pull on her beer, squinting her eyes at Dean, "Oh, yeah? So what is it?"
"You've been pulling your hair over shoulder every time you talk about going to the library." Dean said abruptly. His tone immediately accusing, all the melancholy of the moment before gone. It was the same tone he would use when he would interrogate monsters.
Jo slowly put her beer bottle down on the table. She folded her hands in front of her on the table, fighting the urge to move her hair. The skin on her neck was growing more itchy and hotter with every tick of the second hand on clock hanging from the wall. "I don't know what you're talking about?"
Dean turned his glass in circles on the table. "Did you go to the library?"
Jo met his eyes in a mirrored defiant stare. "Of course I did."
Dean watched her eyes, for anything. For any sign that she was lying. "Took Hill to Prospect?"
"That is the way there." Jo nodded.
"Hm." Dean took his eyes away to take a sip of his whiskey, "And what about the renovation ideas?" He watched her reaction, her blink clearly not missed as he bowed his head, "What were you doing, Jo?"
She remained silent, not knowing how to answer. She shook her head.
Dean's eyebrows raised, "Am I just supposed to except that?"
Jo bowed her head, taking a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "I only promised to take care of you." She whispered.
She knew it was a lie. She had made another promise to Sam. Jo did promise that she wouldn't go looking for him, but Dean needed this. He needed this like he needed air to breath, and her promise to take care of him trumped not looking for Sam.
"What were you doing, Jo?" Dean repeated himself.
Jo's hands were starting to shake. "I was looking for a way to bring him back." She explained not daring to speak Sam's name out loud.
Dean stared at her, he didn't move, he didn't speak. He just stared.
"Dean, say something." Jo fidgeted in her seat. His gaze making her even more uncomfortable then she already was.
"Have you found anything?" He whispered.
"If I did, this conversation would be going a lot differently."
"Show me what you have." He demanded downing the rest of his drink.
"Dean." Jo warned.
"Show me." He repeated through clenched teeth.
"Dean," She pleaded. This would consume him, and Jo knew that. And then ultimately he would be heartbroken, and in worse shape than he is now.
His knuckles were pure white around the glass before he threw it against the wall. "Fuck!"
Jo closed her eyes against the sound of the shattering glass, but remained seated. His voice echoing in the small room.
She turned her gaze to watch the remnants of the whiskey trail down the wall and then back to Dean.
"I'm not cleaning that up." She stated.
Dean turned to face her, the rage immediately receding. He reached over the table for her hands. Jo removed them from the table and put them on her lap. "I'm sorry." Dean whispered bowing his head till his forehead rested on the table.
Jo crossed her arms over her chest, stopping herself from reaching out to him.
"I just," Dean sat up to look at her, his eyes glistening with un-shed tears. "I just can't... I need..." He choked on his words.
"I know," Jo cut him off, "That's why I'm doing it. And when I find something I will let you know." Jo took the last drink of her beer, standing and tossing it in the recycle bin. The clanking of the empty bottles ringing in her ears.
She grabbed the sludge hammer on her way out of the room.
"What are you going?" Dean's voiced edged on worry.
"Nowhere." Jo deadpanned as she made her way to the stairs in the living room.
She stared at them. Broken and falling to pieces. They belonged here, they matched the two broken people living with them. Jo was sick of looking at them. Seeing a constant reminder of how her heart must look. Cracked, brittle, broken.
She raised the hammer over her shoulders and swung down with everything she had, almost losing her balance. She kept smashing, vaguely aware of the fact that Dean was now watching her.
She only stopped when there was nothing left. The remaining pieces of the railing clinging to the second floor.
Dean leaned against the archway behind her. "You alright?"
Jo wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, looking around at the rubble surrounding her feet. "Yeah," She panted, "Fine."
"Come here." Dean cocked his head to the spot directly in front of him.
Jo dropped the hammer, shook her head and leaned on the opposite side of the archway.
"We're going to be okay." Dean whispered. He nodded, "Yeah, everything will be fine."
Jo stared at him. He was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince her.
"Jo?" Dean reached out his hand to her. "Please."
She pushed off the wall and took his hand, their fingers gingerly touching. Dean grasped her hand in earnest and pulled her to him, wrapping his other hand around her waist. The smell of whiskey wafted across her face as Dean buried himself in her neck.
Jo's body melted into him, the past month of neglect completely forgotten as her body sang in his touch.
"I'm so sorry..." He murmured in between peppering kisses on her neck. His hands roamed up the back of her shirt and gently scratched at the soft skin of her back.
Jo let a sigh escape her lips as Dean found the spot just below her ear, making her knees buckle.
Dean didn't miss a beat, he pulled her to him almost violently, turning and pushing her up against the arch way as he continued to assault her neck.
Jo pulled away just enough to crash her lips on to him. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Jo could finally breathe. She wrapped her arms around Dean's neck as he pulled her legs around his waist.
She wasn't even aware of the fact that they had moved from their spot against the archway, until her back hit the mattress. Dean's hands clawed into the skin at her hip, pulling her impossibly closer.
It didn't take very long for their clothes to be discarded. Their limbs tangled in a heap of skin as the memory of the last few months disappeared. They scratched and pulled at each other. Pushed and grasped at anything they could. They were violent and gentle. Ruthlessly taking anything they could get.
The sun beat down brutally on the tin roof of the small dinner. Jo could hear the industrial fan in the kitchen echoing off the walls from the bathroom. She stood there staring at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were blood shot and she couldn't get her hands to stop shaking.
It had been weeks since that night, and Dean hadn't touched her since. He had woken up the next morning, seeing the angry scratch marks on her back, the yellowing bruises on her wrists and instantly recoiled. Mentally backtracking until he was at the bottom of several different bottles.
Jo had told everyone at work that he had gotten the flu. That the reason for his absence was that his was sickly, not so drunk he could barely stand. Within a week he had sobered up enough that he could return to work. They never talked about it.
"When are you going to tell him?" Sheena, a fellow waitress, said appearing from one of the stalls. She walked up to the mirror next to her, adjusting the expertly messy bun atop her head. Her sandy brown complexion glowed impossibly under the florescent lighting of the restroom. Her mother had been a model in India, apparently the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
Jo let go an unsteady breath, shaking her hands out, "What are you talking about?"
Sheena raised a dark manicured eyebrow, pulling her lip gloss from her apron. She turned her attention back to the mirror applying a thin coat. "Well, unless you caught his 'flu'," She gestured to the stall Jo had once occupied, "I'm no doctor," She shrugged, watching Jo in the mirror, "I'd say you were pregnant."
Jo shook her head immediately. "No." She absolutely refused the possibility. "No, it's probably just stress."
"Yeah," Sheena scoffed, "A whole other lifetime of stress." She patted Jo's back lightly as she passed, exiting the bathroom.
Jo returned her gaze back to the mirror, mentally counting up the days. "You are not pregnant. And in... Four days, you can prove it." Jo nodded, agreeing with herself. God, please don't let me be pregnant. She silently prayed.
Jo washed her hands one last time in an attempt to calm herself. Then turned kicking open the bathroom door and wiping her hands haphazardly on her apron.
Jo spied a new customer in her section. She pulled a pen and her pad out of the pocket in her apron and took a deep breath to steady herself.
The man in the booth stared absently out the window. He wore a baseball cap and a trench coat that immediately reminded Jo of Castiel. As she got closer she had no doubt that's exactly who it was.
"Cas?" She asked hastily shoving the pad and pen back in her apron.
"Joanna." He nodded to her, tearing his gaze from the window.
Jo followed his eyes and could see Dean working on a car in the garage.
"What are you doing here?" She asked incredulously.
Castiel cocked his head at her, "You are with child?"
Jo slid into the booth across from him, leaning her head on the table. "Way to ruin the good news." She groaned.
"With Dean's behavior as of late, I hardly think this is good news." Castiel's brows furrowed in confusion.
"It's not, Cas," She sighed lifting her head, "that was sarcasm."
"Oh I see." Castiel bowed his head.
"What are you doing here?" Jo's patience for his appearance was growing thinner by the second. "If Dean sees you." She warned, not needing to finish her thought.
"I understand." Castiel agreed. "I must be going."
"Cas?" Jo reached out her hand to stop him, but he was already gone. No one in the diner any the wiser that a man had just disappeared.
