Title: Not a Long-Term Guy
Timeline: Season 3, post-Bad Day at Black Rock
Rating: PG-13 for minor language
Summary: It's hard to hope for forever when the man you love has a one-year expiration date. Jo/Dean, one-shot.
Disclaimer: Not mine :)

Jo knows he's not a long-term guy. She knows he's better at one-night stands than marriage proposals. She lies to herself—she says it doesn't matter, that relationships are overrated and she doesn't like to be tied down anyway. She tries not to think about china patterns and how if her father were alive he would walk her down the aisle.

She tries not to hate his brother—sweet, kind, well-meaning Sammy—for being the person he is.He can't help it if he was chosen by a demon, even if she knows that if Sam hadn't been chosen he would never have been killed and Dean never would have sold his soul to bring him back.

And Jo wouldn't have to count down the days until the man she might be in love with gets sucked down to hell.

Jo tries to enjoy the time she has with Dean, but it's hard because she knows that it will end. It's different from her other relationships—they may have been terminal, but when she told her past boyfriends to "go to hell," they didn't take her up on the suggestion. The problem, Jo says to herself, is that Dean is rarely around. He calls her up once a month and leaves her a message to let her know when he and Sam will be in town.

She saves the message, craving the sound of his voice. Sometimes he meets her at the bar where she works, but more often he'll stay outside, Impala idling, waiting for her to emerge. She winks at Sam as she slides into the back seat, pushing aside old newspapers, a forgotten bag of candy or a worn sweatshirt that still smells like Dean.

He will look back at her and smile, asking "where to?" Sometimes they eat dinner with Sam in a run-down diner, but more often they just drop him back at the motel and drive to Jo's cramped room-and-a-half apartment.

They jump on each other almost as soon as they're out of the car. Formalities are discarded—they're just two people who want each other, two people who need companionship. Dean's visits are becoming fewer and farther between and it drives Jo crazy. Without Dean to ground her she feels like a balloon flying higher and higher until the air pressure makes her pop. Jo knows that Dean feels it too—she can tell in the way he kisses her, like he's trying to devour her whole.

She knows he's not a long-term guy and he knows she's a girl who wants commitment, but when they're together they enter into a truce. Dean never shares tales of his conquests and Jo never asks him for forever. The sex is fierce and harsh—too much taking and not enough giving back—but it suits them fine. Jo thinks her bed is too big for a girl like her, but when Dean takes up residence it feels less empty—less cold.

The afters are the best part of his visits because she can pretend that they last forever. Jo notices that with each visit he holds her tighter than before and she wonders if he's afraid of what will happen to him when his year expires. She wants to ask, but she knows he'll just lie. There is so much she wants to say to him—"I love you," or, "I'll miss you," or "please don't go," but her throat can't form the words so she settles for asking about his latest job.

"We were tracking a rabbit's foot. It was stolen from some of Dad's old stuff. Bobby told us it was bad news, so we had to track it down, get it back and destroy it." Dean nuzzles Jo's neck and his stubble prickles her skin. She giggles and half-heartedly pushes him away.

"How can good luck be a bad thing?"

She feels Dean shrug, "if you lose it then your luck turns. Sammy grabbed it, but then that bitch stole it from him so we had to get it back."

"What bitch?"

"Bela… somebody. She's a dealer in occult objects, I guess. God, what a pain in the ass. Hot as hell, though." A lump forms in Jo's throat, but Dean just shakes his head and starts playing with the ends of her pale hair. "She's a real piece of work."

Their conversation trails off eventually and they untwine from each other's arms as they each succumb to sleep. Jo loves the sound of another pair of lungs pumping air in and out—it makes her feel safe and comfy, like she's not as alone as she feels.

Mornings are unwelcome. Morning means waking up alone, to a note telling her he went to get coffee. Morning means he'll be gone for another month or two or three. Morning means that one more day is ticked off Dean's calendar—one day closer to his imminent death. Jo knows that hunters live on borrowed time, but the knowledge doesn't make the reality any easier.

He kisses her goodbye, sweetly, a contrast to the ferocity he shows when his little brother's not watching. She waves to Sam and blows Dean one last kiss. She tells herself that next time he calls she'll tell him she's busy—tell him to pass through, that she's not interested—but she never follows through.

Sure enough, exactly thirty-five days later he calls. "I'll be in town in a couple of days, I'll pick you up at the bar." Her toes curl and she saves the message almost involuntarily. She knows he's not a long-term guy, but it doesn't matter. Relationships are overrated, she tells herself. She doesn't want to be tied down, anyway.

Sometimes she's almost convinced.