"Didn't think you'd see me again, huh?" Jo smiled and walked over to the bed.

"How?" Dean questioned, head still foggy from whiskey, that seemed to be all he could muster.

"Still not the brightest button..." Jo laughed and sat herself down at Dean's feet, his grumpy pout always made her smile.

"How do you think I'm here Dean?" She asked gently.

"I- I don't know- " He shook his head, "You've been- you know, for a long time, why- why now?" His frown deepened.

"You can say it Dean." Her voice held a slight edge to it now.

"Dead, Dean. Yes. I've been dead." Dean couldn't put his finger on it, she didn't sound upset, equally, she didn't sound angry.

"So, tell me, how did you do it?" Dean asked again, with more conviction in his voice. He was becoming suspicious now, something wasn't right.

"I didn't do anything." Jo laughed coldly. She moved quickly, pushing Deans chest, his weak spot, so he was lying flat, and straddled him.

"What the hell Jo-?" Dean winced. He was at a disadvantage. What the hell is happening? His thoughts raced.

Jo grabbed a handful of his hair and squeezed tightly.

"Ahhh!" Dean hissed and tried bucking her off him with his hips, his arms were no use, she had them pinned down by his sides.

Jo cocked her head to one side and studied him for a moment.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen..." She mused.

Dean went to speak, but she punched him hard in the jaw. Her grip on his hair didn't let up and it pulled tighter as his head reeled from the hit.

"A drunk, a butchered drunk who can't even hold his own." She sneered.

Impossible, she can't be a vengeful spirit, Jo would know better, she wouldn't linger around. But then what?

Her face scrunched up, contorted with what seemed close to rage now.

"I had to die, for this? What's so sodding special about you, huh?" She growled leaning close into his face.

"Jo-" Dean tried again, but this time she put pressure on his chest wound again. Dean's words turned into a grunt as he tried to control the spasm of pain.

"I thought I made it clear, you need to shut the hell up." Jo spoke calmly now, her voice ice cold.

"Even Sam can't stand the sight of you. He's embarrassed by you. He knows you're a mess, and he's getting bored of your bullshit macho crap." Jo released her grip of his hair and stroked his cheek.

"Can you even remember the last time Bobby called?" She pulled a mock sad face.

Deans heart was racing. He couldn't put two and two together. He wished Sam was here now. He wished he didn't have to listen to all this crap.

Dean gave her his best cocky smile, trying to relay the fact that she was powerless and whatever she was trying to do wasn't working.

"Oh Dean, with those big sad eyes, you're not fooling anyone. I know you can feel it. Everyone's aversion to you? I can tell you why if you want?" Her voice purred, a little softer now.

"You can answer me now Dean, it's okay, would you like me to tell you?" Her voice gentle now, but still a little mocking, as if she felt sorry for him.

Dean liked his lips, his mouth had gotten so dry, his throat felt like sand paper. He shook his head, words unable to come out.

"Now, that's not the Dean I remember, no sarcastic remark?" She leaned forward, looking Dean in the eyes.

"Death follows you Dean. You think you save all these people, people you don't know. But they will die eventually. What makes it so, so, sad, is that the people you actually care for, they all die." She whispered into his ear.

Deans eyes grew wide, he began shaking his head slowly.

"No? Let's see, your mum died, Sam's future, you remember Jessica? Everything was fine until you turned up. Then there was Layla, she was lovely, visited church every week, but you took her chance of life away. She was so close Dean, you knew she was next. But instead, you lived and she died." Jo cupped his face so he couldn't move and avert her gaze.

"Let's not forget dear old dad... Now that's another pretty obvious one. He literally died for you, in every sense of the meaning. And how do you repay him? By turning into a worthless drunk!" She slapped him hard across the face, and then placed her hands back on his cheeks, gently rubbing the reddening patch of skin with her thumb.

"Then there's me. Dean, I'm dead, and I'm not coming back. How could you leave me?" She looked hurt now, tears threatened to spill over in her eyes.

"Jo- you- you told me to leave you- I didn't want to- you have to believe me!" Dean's words spilled out in a struggle to defend himself. In the back of his mind, he was convinced she was right. This was a last ditch attempt to convince himself otherwise.

"No Dean!" Jo shouted, "You left me to die!"

"No- no-! " Dean trembled. He didn't did he? That's not how he remembered it.

"And my mother! She loved you. She would do anything for you. It didn't take much for you to leave her there to die with me. She could have got out. She could still be alive now!" Jo had raised her voice, and Dean could feel her hatred for him.

He couldn't help but see this from her point of view. She has a point I guess, I shouldn't have left Ellen. I should have stayed. Been there with Jo until the end. I should have done something different. Damn it! I was supposed to save them, not send them off to die.

Dean closed his eyes slowly, they were beginning to burn with the threat of tears.

When he opened his eyes, Jo was gone. Dean glanced around anxiously, there was no trace of her. He sat up again, slowly, cringing with the pain in his chest, mentally and physically.

This isn't how it's supposed to be.

He scrubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and took a deep breath. Dean stood up on shaky legs and took a step forward, he braced himself on the bedside locker as he stumbled a little, hand brushing against the keys to his baby. He grabbed them without thinking, shoving his arms into his jacket, not forgetting the bottle of drink, and left for his car.