Dean stared. He waited for her beautiful eyes to go black, for her to shed her skin or something, anything. Maybe she was a ghost, though she wasn't nearly pale enough. She looked so alive.

Still, when she took a step forward he stumbled back, snatching his holy water flask. He spun the top off and recklessly threw the contents at Jo, who just sputtered and looked at him in confusion.

Thank God: she's not a demon. The relief lasted only seconds though and a new paranoia rose as her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed.

"Dean-" she started.

He whipped out his silver knife and grabbed her wrist. Thoughts spinning. Heart pounding. She'd been gone so long there was no way in hell she'd been brought back. This had to been some awful, terrible joke some monster was trying to pull. Maybe an actual
trickster or just another angel who liked sick pranks. Angels were dicks after all.

Jo's eyes widened as he pulled her arm straight. Her scared eyes flicked to the knife then up at Dean's eyes. "What the hell are you-"

Even though his heart squeezed, Dean brought the Blade down across her forearm, trying to be as careful as he could with trembling hands. She still flinched, ripping her arm out of his grasp,but it didn't burn. Dean stared down at her for another
second and he realized. It was Jo. It wasn't a demon, or a shapeshifter, or a ghost. It was really her, alive, standing in front of him. Back from the dead like he'd never everimagined was possible. All those feelings he'd pushed down over the years,
the emotions that only came up on her death anniversary, bubbled through his chest, stronger then they had all night. He surged forward, wrapped the little form in his big arms, andburied his face into her soft hair. Her thin arms snaked around his
waist while he breathed her in, everything that was Jo that he had missed so damn much.

"Gawd its so good to hold you," he mumbled into her ear. He bent down and pressed his lips to her neck, then nuzzled his face into her shoulder. His insides melted for her, every bonein his body aching for Jo

like he'd never experienced. Even when he'd lost Lisa after a full year of loving her unrestrained, he hadn't felt this longing: one that sunk into the deepest parts of his soul, pulsing to have her closer. He Tightenedhis grip aroundher likeshe
would disappear if she were a centimeter further from him. Jo's head weighed against his chest. Rising and falling with every breath he took. He never wanted weight on his chest, but right then he couldn't imagine breathing without it.

"You too, Dean," she responded, rubbing her thin fingers across his back. "I've missed you."

He smiled against her warm skin. He thought about telling her now, could feel the word forming in his mouth. Waiting would be a mistake. He knew that, because if he'd learned anything, it was thattomorrow wasa myth and all they had was the
present. Then, Suddenly, Dean's head was pulled into reality, and he stepped back, out of her embrace, away from the hug. She had no idea how he felt. No one did. He couldn't just tell her while she wasjust barely out of wouldn't
believe him, she'd most likely be offended, if anything. So he focused on keeping the raging emotions off of his face while He shrugged his shoulders, glancing at her eyes before focusing on the window behind her left shoulder.

"How-how're you here?" He asked, his voice surprisingly calm considering how clogged his throat was.

Her pink lips curled in a small smile. "I don't know if you'd believe me if I told you."

Dean's eyebrows raised and he nodded, finally catching her eye. "Me either. I'm having trouble believing you're even here."

She shrugged, stuffing her small hands into the pocket of her so familiar green jacket. "I get that. I've been gone a long time."

Dean snorted. "More than a long time." He made sure all of her attention was on him as he took a step forward and murmured, "A life time, Jo."

She flushed, but didn't break eye contact. Not Jo. She was never one to back down. For a moment they stood staring at each other in silence as she digested those words and Dean wondered if he'dactually said them, and whether or not he regretted
them.

Jo snapped out of it first, pushing the underlying current away for another time. She gave him a cheeky smile "I'm glad to see you didn't die on me, Dean, or else it would've sucked to come back."

Dean actually forced out a harsh laugh. "Oh, I died. I just came back."

Jo frowned. "Oh." She shuffled, eyes falling to her shoes. "I guess those weren't stories. I'd always hoped they were."

Dean matched Jo's downturned lips, putting his own hands into his jean pockets. He felt sick to his stomach and on top of the world at the same time. It resulted in a headache that was formingat the back of words set him on edge. Stories?
About him, maybe? About Castiel? Dean was so exhausted he couldn't think straight, but he tried to focus. "What weren't stories?"

Jo flinched. Barely, almost not at all, but Dean caught it. His worry deepened. He stepped towards her again, pulling his hands out but keeping them uncomfortably by his side. They itched to reach outto her, but hecouldn't get himself to do
it. "What is it Jo?"

"It's nothing. Not important." She flashed another smile to him. "So… Where's Sam?"

Dean's eyebrows knitted together. He didn't want to drop the previous subject, but if Jo was still Jo, pushing her wouldn't do anything. So he let it slide for the moment. "He's…out."

Jo's eyebrows shot up, and she put her hands on her hips. "Out?"

A fire lit in Dean's chest. He'd forgotten what a turn on her defiant attitude was. He couldn't help but laugh at it. "Yeah. I needed some time alone, so he's tracking down leads for acase."

Jo smirked. "You needed some Time alone? Since when, Mr. Winchester? Last I remember, you two were practically joined at the hip."

Dean couldn't deny that. He sat on the edge of the bed, too tired to stand. "It's complicated."

To his relief, Jo came a and sat by him. "Really?"

Dean agreed with his eyes. "Just like everything else in my miserable life."

"Oh Dean." Jo touched her hand to his knee, causing fire to shoot up his leg. "I'm sorry."

Dean closed his eyes, focusing on her touch. "Don't. I don't… I'm the one who's sorry, Jo," he finally forced out, opening his eyes and turning his gaze back to her.

Jo sighed, exasperated. "I knew this would happen." She squeezed his knee. "Dean, my death was not your fault. You need to know that. You did everything you could."

Dean couldn't get himself to agree. His hands clenched together as he fought back more tears. "You're wrong." His fight didn't work, and a single tear fell down his face. He couldn't face hernow as the guilt

threatened to crush him. He turned his face away."I failed you, Jo. I let you die."