It was hours later, when exhausted, Dean Winchester fell asleep on the porch, aching, hurting, and remembering. It was hours later when, a young, slim, blond woman, wearing a black vest and skinny jeans, stepped out of her old car, and walked towards a man asleep on her porch. It was hours later, that Jo Harvelle found Dean Winchester collapsed, tear tracks staining his roughly shaved face, ridiculously beautiful, and crouched down to touch his shoulder.
Dean shifted, and awoke to see his dream girl, crouched over him, shaking him gently. For a moment, he took in her deep, thoughtful brown eyes, her pale, smooth skin, her amazing figure, and hey - he couldn't help but notice - slight cleavage showing. Her beautiful hands, resting on his shoulder, her slim arms, reaching out to him, and best of all : her melodic voice, calling his name, Dean revelled in it for a moment, before sitting up, and realisation washed over him. He grabbed his silver knife, jumped upand slashed her arm. She wasn't a shifter. He shoved her backwards into the trough of holy water. She wasn't a demon. He gripped her arms and lifted her up, looking deep at her. She wasn't a mirage.
"Am I...dead?" He asked her, confusion and hurt smacking into him. Hurt because, she couldn't be real. Hurt because, this punch in his gut was from looking at her wonderful face, but also knowing that he would wake up soon, or she would turn, and he would have to deal with her death all over again. Hurt, finally, because she whipped around and slapped his face hard, stinging all over his face.
"What?" He said. He meant to be angry, but all he could do was drink in her appearance, voice and stance, and try and take in as much detail before she vanished. She, however, had blood dripping down her arm, was soaking wet, and - damn. She couldn't deny the joy that came from seeing him. And the way his eyes latched onto hers, those amazing, unreal green eyes that she could stare into for ever - if she wasn't busy telling him off.
"You. Just. Cut. Soaked. And. Grabbed. Me. You deserve a slap frankly." She said, cuffing his ear. He still looked at her, a man who has been in the dark for years, stepping into the sun. Trying to see how real she was, if his eyes were just deceiving him. If he had finally gone mad. But the madness was preferable to the pain before, so he played along. "Jo." He whispered, roughly. "You're dead. So why are we here?" Something in Jo broke a little at the plain hurt in his face. She had never seen him so open. So easy to read, he was hurting. And he missed her, and beyond anything he wanted to believe she was real.
She took a step in, and gently stroked his stubbly face, his rough cheeks, his perfect skin. "I'm back. For real. I'm alive. Something, or someone brought me back. Mum as well. For like. Three months now. You had vanished. But I'm here now, and real. And alive. And so are you." With that, she gripped his hand, and brought it to lie flat on her chest, he could feel her heart, beating steady. He looked straight into her eyes, and she looked back. He decided he wasn't mad after all. Maybe this was reality, as no madness could creat this much tension, excitement and longing. They stood, locked in this position, for what felt like a long time. Jo seemed to breathe in a nervous sigh, that hitched in her throat. "Your heart rate is speeding up." Dean said, in his deep voice. Jo leaned in, and said, with an almost steady voice, "Thats because I'm nervous about what I'm about to do next." Before Dean could question her, she put one hand around his back, one against his face, and pushed him back against the wooden walls of the small house. Without thinking, she leaned in, and passionately kissed him.
Dean gripped her face, and kissed her back, hard. One hand then slid down the side of her body, and rested on her hip, the other curled around her neck, crushing her face to his. They stood, kissing each other hard, running their hand though each others hair, over one another's body, and while catching a breath here and there, whispering each others names. Jo leaned in more, crushing herself against his hard, muscled chest and stomach. He nibbled on her lip gently, while stroking down her back. She moaned into his mouth, and he responded by tilting her chin and kissing her neck. His hands now rested on her ribcage, and hers ran through his perfect, sandy hair. She wanted him, and she knew she did, and something inside told her that he wanted her as well, a lot. Or...it might not have been something inside - it could possibly have been the impact of his groin tightening, stiffening against her as she continued to kiss him, that could have been a pointer. She pulled back still feeling his hair, and chuckled lightly. Her arms crossed around his neck, stooping him down, bringing her, and her quickly rising chest, closer to his face.
"Dammit Winchester, you've still got it." She said, her nose touching his, breathing heavily. He gave a throaty laugh, and pecked her lips gently.
"Jo. You can't say.." He leant in and gave her a longer kiss. "...anything, when you could be kissing me like this." She winked and whispered to him, right in his ear. "We could always do more than kiss Dean." Dean groaned and pulled her face around to his, and kissed her again. She still had him up against the wall, fingers tripping down his muscled stomach. One hand slid slowly inside and down the front of his jeans. Dean gasped as he realised what she was about to do. "Jo." He moaned. She leaned up, as her hand slid down, and kissed his ear, the side of his face, and again, his lips. Jo was just about to make the contact Dean was longing for when another car engine sounded and pulled into the drive.
They both froze, looking at each other, surprise, panic and lust, mixing into a strange whirlwind of emotions, slowing their reactions down. Two cars doors slammed. "OI." A voice yelled. Jo and Deans eyes widened a little. "Son of a bitch!" He muttered, before dragging his eyes away from his beautiful girls face, and looking down at Ellen Harvelle. Ellen looked a mix of happy, angry, resigned and relieved. Dean grinned, took in Sam stepping around the other side of the Impala, and looked back to Jo's huge, brown eyes. He winked at her, and she slowly pulled her hand away, before swiftly turning around. "Hi...Mum..." She said, clearing her throat, rocking slightly, and blushing deeply. "Ellen!" Dean stepped around from Jo, jumped down the steps and hugged Ellen, breathing in the sense of family once more. Ellen rolled her eyes at Sam, dropped her gun, and hugged Dean back, "Boy is it good to see you Dean." She murmured in his ear, voice thick. She then cleared her throat, cuffed him round the ear and stepped back. "But never let me see you and my daughter like that again, ok?" Dean rubbed his ear.
'Like mother like daughter,' he thought to himself. He smiled at Sam.
Sam walked around the car, jaw set angrily. "Dean, what the hell?" Dean stepped back a little. Ellen picked up her gun again. Jo walked down the steps of the porch and stood within a steps distance of both Dean and her Mother. "Three fucking weeks." Sam said with a steady voice. "And you didn't have the courtesy to tell me you were still Alive." Dean took a deep breath, and this time walked closer to Sam. "Sammy, I'm so sorry. I'm...I am, actually sorry. I have no excuses. I just had to leave. You and Bobby dealt with it so much better, and I was just hurting, more and more. It got worse and worse. So." Dean hesitated,and looked at the group. Ellen looked unimpressed, Sam expression was still angry, but Jo's eyes had filled with tears. She had no idea he cared that much. Dean gulped and continued. "So, I left, working jobs for a fortnight, doing different family business. Without phones. Or the impala. Or cas, or you." Dean looked at the ground now, scuffing the sand and the gravel with his feet. "And in that last week I built up the courage to come here, to say good bye to you guys." He looked at the Harvelles, eyes piercing. "Which I had to do by myself." Sam shifted, and his jaw unclenched a little. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to say something and just nodded. The four of them stood there, uncomfortably waiting.
Ellen broke the silence. "What about a drink? For old times sake, eh?" Ellen clapped Dean on the back, gripped Sam's arm and pulled him up the stairs. Dean motioned for Jo to go first. "Always the gentleman." She smirked, and stepped up the same time. He took her soft, slender hand in his, and they followed Ellen and Jo into the substitute roadhouse, fingers entwined. Before crossing the threshold, Dean leant in for a final kiss, his lips firm but tender, her tongue tracing his. They pulled back, smiled at each other, and walked in, still holding hands, looking forwards to the future of the past they would almost recreate.
