Shame, boatloads of shame

Day after day, more of the same

Blame, please lift it off

Please take it off, please make it stop

He could hear the echo of a knife being sharpened pound in his head. The stench of dead bodies filled his nostrils threatening to make him sick. He didn't have to open his eyes to know where he was. The screams of the damned swirled around the room, pulling at Dean. The hilt of a sword was thrust into his hand. His grip tightened and he knew what he had to do.

He finally allowed himself to open his eyes and had to blink a couple times to realize he was actually awake. The visions of Hell still at the forefront of his mind. He let his eyes roam around the room. The window panes bounced against each other in the light breeze.

He turned his head to see Jo sleeping soundly next to him. Her gold hair sprawled out on her pillow as he watched her shoulders gently rise and fall.

She didn't deserve this. Dean reminded himself of that fact every day. She left everything for him. She was supposed to be a hunter. To be free and he took that away from her.

Dean dragged his hand across his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He rolled himself out of bed, grabbing his discarded shirt from the day before and threw it on. He padded his way into the kitchen and busied himself making a cup of coffee.

He watched the dark liquid drip mercilessly into the glass below. A memory of a young boy's first sip of his older brother's coffee, flitted its way through Dean's memory.

He pushed himself away from the counter and wrenched open the back door, gulping in the fresh air. Trying in vain to rid his vision of the small boy that he had let down.

Gary chuckled out loud as Dean watched Jo jog up to the old station wagon. "I bet poker with her is real fun," Gary whistled as he turned back to the fence.

"Why's that?" Dean put his beer down on tree stump.

"She's got the most obvious tell ever." Garry furrowed his brows in confusion. "You've never noticed that?" Dean shook his head, "She plays with her hair when she lies."

Dean looked back over to the retreating station wagon. "No, can't say I have." What are you hiding, Jo?

He regretted it as soon as the glass left his hand. The rage in his heart boiled through his chest and into his blood.

"I'm not cleaning that up."

Dean closed his eyes against Jo's voice. He turned reaching for her hand, if he could just touch her, feel her skin, maybe it would all be okay. She pulled her hands back and placed them in her lap.

Dean leaned his head against the table. "I'm sorry," He croaked. "I just... I can't." He wanted to tell her he couldn't do this without her, that she should let him help her. That he just needed some kind of hope. Anything.

"I know, that's why I'm doing it." Jo sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "When I find something, I'll let you know."

She stood up tossing her empty bottle in the trash, the ringing of glass filled the room.

"Where are you going?" He asked watching her as she turned toward the living room.

Jo's shoulders slumped almost in defeat. "Nowhere." She sounded disappointed at the prospect. Dean couldn't help but think that was his fault.

Dean turned over in bed, sleeping through the night for the first time in he didn't know when. Jo's blonde hair was splayed across their pillow, glowing in the morning light. Dean reached up and wrapped a piece around his finger, letting the silk slide through his fingers.

He trailed his fingers down the side of her arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake. I can do this, he thought to himself. Everyday, waking up next to her? Yeah, I can definitely get used to this.

His fingers stopped at her wrists, a yellowish hue in the shape of a hand was starting to form. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, matching the bruise. Pulling away like he had been burnt, Dean gingerly pulled back the sheets to get a better look at her back. Dozens of angry red scratched marred her skin.

Dean rolled on to his back and stared at the ceiling. You're a fucking monster, he reminded himself.

He rolled out of bed, and went for the neglected whiskey bottle on the kitchen table.

The sweltering heat had finally broken sometime around the dinner rush. The sky clouded and rain poured down without any sign of stopping anytime soon.

Dean sat in the pick-up truck, waiting for Jo, picking at the grease left under his fingernails. A stain he knew he could never fully wash away. Just like the blood of his loved ones, that on his worst days, he could still see. His shoulders slumped as he leaned back in the seat. Dean let out a discontented sigh as he leaned his head against the vinyl headrest.

There are times during the day when Dean's heart was so heavy that it took all the strength he had to keep moving. All the guilt he had weighed on him, hell, it weighed on Jo.

Every day he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, wanted to say how much he appreciated her. She endured so much of his tantrums.

He was an absolute mess. He screamed and yelled, he threw things. His temper was off the fucking charts.

He bowed his head. His whole body coated in shame.

He saw a murky vision of Jo through the trucks windshield as she stepped out of the diner and into the rain, pulling the hood of her sweater over her head.

Dean's breath caught in his throat. She was everything to him. She was everything and he was killing her. Even Dean could see that her spirit, her light, that spark that Dean loved about her the most was dwindling every day. Her lips were pulled in a thin line as she marched over to the truck.

"Hey," his rough voice came out in a hoarse whisper as she wrenched open the passenger side door.

"Hey," Jo hoisted herself into the truck, throwing her bag on the floor.

Dean jammed his keys in the ignition as she pulled on her seat belt. All the words he wanted to say dying on his lips. He was still angry with her. Dean knew she promised him that night. He knew Jo was awake for that.

Even so, Dean didn't regret retiring and staying with Jo. Not for a second. No matter what would have happened, he would have always picked her.

"I have to go into town tomorrow." Jo interjected into the silence.

"For?" Dean inquired, her lies still at the forefront of his memory.

Jo tangled her fingers together in her lap, "I, uh... Just have to."

Dean nodded. "Fine." He leaned on the door and covered his mouth with his hand staring out onto the road.

Silence engulfed them for the rest of the night. Jo went to bed as soon as they walked in. Not even bothering the change into her pajamas. And Dean went straight for the whiskey in the freezer.

Dean could feel the ground beneath him start to shake. Jo's labored breath invading his ears, "Dean, no," She begged. The blood seeped through her hands as she propped herself up against the wheel of the Impala. The hell hound had ripped through her side and her hand was the only reason her intestines were still in her body. "Please, no."

Dean looked back at her, the pain in his heart so deep that he had to put his hand to his chest just to keep the pieces together. "I've got to, babe."

The ground began to crack open as Sam struggled to reign in the devil.

"I can't hold him, Dean," Sam spit through his teeth. The pain so intense it brought him down to his knees.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean tried to sooth him, inching his way toward his brother. He chanced a glance over his shoulder at Jo.

Her face was ashen and her breath was even more labored then before. "I'm sorry, Dean. I love you." She whispered, the sound deceptively close to his ears. Her thumb pushed down on the trigger she held in her hand and the gas cans, that had just appeared, exploded.

Dean sat straight up in bed, reaching over instinctively to Jo's side. He blinked his eyes in an effort to clear his vision. Jo had already left, that much was obvious.

He rubbed his hands on his face, rolling out of bed and padding his way to the kitchen. He put the back of his hand against the coffee pot. It was cold. She should be back soon then. Dean concluded. He turned the coffee machine back on to warm up the remnants.

He shuffled his way over to the living room and looked at the stairs. They had cleaned up the rubble that Jo had created but did nothing else.

Jo's enthusiasm for the house is what made Dean want it. He didn't care where they were. He didn't really care about much these days.

He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the landing that led to the mysterious bedrooms upstairs. He needed to get on those damn stairs. Jo needed him to do it. She needed him to be a man, to do what needed to be done.

In the distance he could hear the gravel of the driveway being displaced by a car. Jo's car. The familiar tune of the station wagon's exhaust filtered through the breeze. Dean went back to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. He sat down at the table with his lukewarm black coffee and watched her through the window. She sat in the car, both hands still on the wheel as she stared at the house. She stayed like that for almost five minutes before she took a large breath and collected her things.

Dean stood, taking his cup of coffee with him, as he went to lean against the archway. "Hey," He said as she came through the door.

Her eyes widened a bit in surprise as she examined him, closing the door behind her. "Hey." She put her purse down on the table by the door. "What's up?" She shoved her hands in her pockets watching him.

"Nothing." Dean took a sip of his coffee. "How was town?"

Jo looked down at her shoes bobbing her head. "It was... fine." She whispered.

Dean watched her wearily, "Is everything okay?"

"Mmhm," Jo nodded curtly.

Something was clearly not right. "Are you sure?" He asked again.

Jo shuffled her feet again, bobbing her head up finally meeting his gaze, "Yeah Dean, every things great."

"Did you do more research?" His mind immediately jumping to his brother.

"No." Jo's brown orbs danced between Dean's green ones.

Dean raised his eyebrows at her quick response. "What were you doing?"

Jo stared at the archway above Dean's head. He could see the wheels trying to turn in her head. Coming up with nothing she took a deep breath and brought her gaze back down to his. "I went to the doctor."

"Are you okay?!" Dean tempted to take a step towards her, thinking better of it, he stayed put.

Jo waved him off, moving to sit on the arm of the couch across the room from him. "Yeah, I'm fine. I guess."

"You guess?" Dean questioned as he moved to stand in front of her. "What's going on?"

Jo put her face in her hands, "I'm pregnant," She mumbled against her hands.

"What?" Dean's voice came out in a ghostly whisper as he set his cup down on the coffee table.

"I'm fucking pregnant, Dean." Jo threw her hands down onto the couch.

"Yeah," Dean wiped his hand over his face, backing up to sit in the arm chair near the archway. "So you said."

Jo nodded her head, "That's your reaction?" She asked incredulously.

Dean shrugged. Judging her body language, knowing by the tone in her voice that she was a ticking time-bomb. "What do you want me to say? You just caught me off guard." He leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his chin on his hand. "I thought we were careful..." He thought out loud, though his memory of their last time was a bit fuzzy on the detail of contraception.

"Apparently not careful enough." Jo slumped her shoulders, mirroring his position.

"What are we going to do?" Dean asked her, his voice seemed far away to his own ears.

Jo watched him, her eyes sad. Not what he would have imagined with the news of their first child. She shrugged. "I haven't decided yet." She looked down to her hands folded in her lap.

"You haven't..." Dean trailed off, "Don't I get a say?"

Jo narrowed her eyes at him. "You want a say?" She leaned her forearms on her thighs, "You're going to help me make a decision?" She took a deep breath looking around the room. "You haven't given a fuck about anything in the last few months!" Her voice raising with every word.

Dean propelled himself from his chair, his hands balled into fists. "Sam is dead! My brother, dead!" His voice screeched as his vocal chords slapped together.

Jo pushed herself to a standing position as well, her face scrunched up in rage. "So is my mother! For what, Dean?!" She held out her arms for emphasis. "For this?" She looked around, her eyes spotting the lamp on the side table. She picked it up and threw it in Dean's direction. He ducked just in time for it to shatter against the wall behind him. "Are you happy? Because I'm not?"

Dean's mouth gaped open as she fumed at him.

"I've walked around on eggshells for months!" Her small hands balled up into fists at her sides. Her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself. "We all lost someone! We are all in mourning, Dean." She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "You have to come back to me soon."

Dean brushed the shards of glass off the seat he had once occupied. "Yeah," He eased himself back in the chair. "Or what?" The words were out of his mouth before he could contain them.

Jo chuckled sardonically. "Or don't try looking for me." Dean caught enough of her gaze to know that was no bluff. She sighed, shuffling her feet against the hardwood floor. "I can't do this for much longer."

Dean bobbed his head up and down, staring at a random spot on the floor.

Jo shook her head, "I can't... You're unbeliev..." She took a deep breath. "I just told you that I'm pregnant with your child, and you just..." Jo trailed off shaking her head at him.

Dean's eyes bored into her stomach. This was her chance. She could get away from him clean. Leave him here to rot. This was her get away. He wouldn't be any good for a child. Future memories of drunken nights, verbal abuse. Jo growing resentful to him, her fire extinguished long before the child would even be born. A thousand what if's filtered through his mind.

"You should go." He whispered.

"What?!" Jo shouted, her mouth gaping at the shock. She closed her mouth resolutely, her brows furrowed as she took two steps toward him. She pulled back her right hand and punched him across the jaw with such force it threw him from the chair.

He spit out blood, feeling a tooth had loosened with his tongue, his pushed himself onto his knees.

"Fuck you Dean." Jo slammed the door behind her, the small windows rattling with the sheer power.

Dean leaned back to lay down on the wood flooring. He stared up at the white ceiling.

Dean's mind flipped to the first time he met Jo, as he heard her car starting outside.

"Please let that be a rifle," He quipped as something poked against his back.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you," Her voice dripping with sarcasm wafted to his ears. The sound of the station wagon's exhaust disappearing in the distance.

He can still picture her standing there in the Roadhouse, hand on her hip, "Most hunter's come through that door thinking they can get in my pants with some pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV."

"Not me."

"No, you're different."

Dean's heart burned at the memory.

He could still see the pained look in her eyes as she talked about her father, "Now tell me what's so wrong with that?" She had asked, a mask of defiance clouding her features.

He could still feel her clawing at his hands to let her go as her mother burned in that hardware store.

He could hear her screams as she begged him not to go to Michael. He could hear her whispering his name, telling him that she loves him. That she's pregnant with his child.

"Shit," He cursed as he realized his mistake. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his keys from the table near the door. He knew exactly where she would go. The only place she could go.

As he turned down the road of the Singer lot, a shiny new Pontiac G6 roared passed him on the road. "No appreciation for the classics," Dean whistled watching it disappear in the review mirror.

He concentrated back on the road and what he was going to say. Listen Jo, he rehearsed. I was just caught off guard, I'm so excited. Dean tempted a practice smile, not even having to look into the mirror to know it didn't reach his eyes.

Of course he wanted to have kids with Jo. It was something he had dreamed about, but now? Here? He rubbed his hand over his face. This has to work. I have to make this work.

He jammed the truck in park and turned to see Jo standing, arms crossed, on the porch. Bobby stood behind the screen door, watching the scene as he nursed a bottle of beer. Dean waved at him as he got out of the truck. "Hey Bobby." He called.

Bobby raised his hands in surrender. "Don't be saying 'hi' to me." He cocked his head toward Jo.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "I know." He turned to look up to Jo, who was glaring daggers at him. He shrugged his shoulders. "I fucked up. I'm sorry."

Jo's lips turned downwards in a frown, "That's it?"

"Please come home?" Dean shuffled his feet uncomfortably as he could feel Bobby's eyes boring into him.

"Don't be an idjit, boy," Bobby gritted through his teeth. Dean visibly winced at the words. Bobby was right, he was always right.

"Bobby," Jo hissed.

"No, now wait a minute." Bobby pushed the screen door open and joined Jo on the porch, turning on Dean. "You got some fucking balls, son. Here's your chance!" He pointed at Jo for emphasis. "All this time, you been talking about getting a chance, getting out of this game, and you did! Then what the fuck do you do? You drink it away. You shit all over it!"

"Bobby," Dean begged, "I'm trying."

Bobby scoffed at him, "You ain't trying to do nothing. You're just wallowing in it."

Dean shuffled his feet in the gravel, kicking up dust. "I know."

"Well then," Bobby took another swig of this beer gesturing his hand toward Jo. "You must already know what to do then?"

Dean looked over to Jo, who looked just like the scolded teenager he felt he was. "Jo..." He trailed off.

Jo shrugged, rolling her eyes to meet his. "Let's just go home." She shuffled down the steps of the porch and to the truck without a word.

Dean looked back up to Bobby, "Well, it was nice seeing you again." He offered.

"Ought to be more often." Bobby chastised him.

Dean waved him off heading over to the truck. "Yeah, I'll call you some time."

"I won't hold my breath," Bobby threw over his shoulder as he yanked open the screen door and disappeared back into the house.

Dean took a deep sigh before he opened the door to the truck, "You want to ride with me? Or drive your car back?"

"Oh, I forgot about it." Jo pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll get Sheena to drive me out here sometime next week, I kind of want to ride with you."

Dean offered her a smirk, "Good." He pulled himself in the truck, leaning over the middle console. "I am sorry." He put a hand against her cheek. "I'm going to be better." He promised, "I'm gonna fix those stairs." Jo lips curved just a little, "I'm gonna quick drinking." Jo let out a bark of laughter, "Okay, at least hard liquor," He amended, pulling her lips to his gently. "It's all going to be okay."

Jo leaned her forehead against his, "I don't want you to do this just because I'm pregnant."

Dean pulled back putting the keys in the ignition, putting the car in drive. "I'm not. I don't want my kid to hate me."

"It's not going to hate you Dean." Jo pulled his hand into hers. "It's all going to be okay." Dean would have given anything to believe her.

Hope you guys are liking it so far. Please, please, please review!