I got a few reviews, so I decided I'll write another chapter or two at least. If I get more requests for more, I'll keep going farther than that, I'd just be shocked if many people are even reading this. So here you go.


Dean knew that he needed to find the angels, find Kevin, and make sure that crazy-Cas was actually keeping the tablet safe. But still, he found himself thinking, while he was alone, about all the people Shanna had told him about in his life that were dead in the show she watched. The thought of not having Bobby or Ellen or… or Jo… in his life made his chest hurt. He wondered what kind of person he was in her world. He knew he hadn't been the same since he went to hell, but if he lost all those people… he wasn't sure how he would survive.

So even though he was supposed to be looking for the angels, he found himself driving to Nebraska and parking in front of the Harvelle Roadhouse. He walked inside and was relieved to see Ellen standing there. Somehow, thinking about them being dead so much had made him question whether or not it was true.

"Boy," she said, her voice gruff and angry as usual, "I haven't seen you in years!" She came forward and hugged him tight. "You could've been dead, for all I knew. What've I told you about picking up a damn phone."

"You could've called too," he reminded her.

She smiled. "Yeah, suppose I could've. How are you then? Where's Sam?"

"It's a long story," Dean replied.

"You two fightin' again?"

"No, it's not that. It's angel crap."

She rolled her eyes. "Damn angels are as bad as demons sometimes."

"You're tellin' me," Dean grunted, sitting down at the bar. "Got any whiskey?"

She pulled a bottle from the top shelf. "You ask some stupid questions, boy," she said as she poured him some. He nodded in thanks and drank a longer draught than he had actually meant to.

"Where's Jo?" he asked, trying to make it sound casual.

"Should be back today, if everything went okay," she said.

"What's that mean?"

"She left for her own case a week ago. Said she'd be back today."

"And you haven't gone looking for her? That doesn't sound like you."

Ellen sighed. "If I push too hard, she'll resent me for it. I have to let her grow up."

Dean smirked. "She should be happy she has parents to look out for her at all." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter.

Ellen's eyebrows came together. "You seem off today. Somethin' wrong?"

"Aw, you having a bad day?" someone said weakly.

Ellen and Dean both jumped up at the sound of her voice. "Jo!" Ellen yelled, running over and putting her arm under her armpit to support her. Dean found himself sitting there in total shock. After all that time being scared the people he loved were dead, in she comes to prove him right.

"Holy shit!" he hollered, coming over too. "What the hell happened?"

"It's really not bad," she said, looking down at the wound in her leg, "it just hurt like hell to walk on."

"Not that bad? I'll see about that?" Ellen said. she leaned down on a knee to look at her leg and Dean held her up. She looked up at him with a tired smile.

"Did you come just to see me in pain?"

Dean didn't feel much like joking. He found himself panicking a little. Jo couldn't die, not when he could do something about it. He wouldn't let people he cared about die, never again. So he put his hand on her cheek for a moment and looked into her eyes. Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked at Dean, as if she was trying to figure out why he was acting weird.

"Why didn't you call?" Ellen scolded, breaking their eye contact. Dean let his hand drop.

"Because I'm not a seven year old." Jo paused. "And I lost my phone."

Ellen rolled her eyes. "Let's get this cleaned up."

"Wait, so she's gonna be okay?" Dean asked desperately. Ellen looked up at him with her eyes narrowed. Ellen and Jo both saw right through him, apparently. And he'd thought he was one of those mysterious types.

"It's fine," she said. "A dagger wound?" she asked her daughter. Jo nodded. "It'll just take a few minutes," she assured Dean. He nodded, but he still wasn't letting go of Jo's shoulders.

"Um, Dean," she said. "I have to go get cleaned up."

"Oh," he muttered, letting go, "oh, right. Go ahead."

Jo and Ellen left and Dean sat at the bar, wondering to himself about why he was being such a nutcase. He went out of his way, was neglecting a mission, so he could check to see if they were alright, and he had lost all his sense when he thought for a moment she might die. He should have known it was a non-lethal wound the moment he saw it, but he panicked instead. What the hell was wrong with him?

Dean had the bottle of whiskey by his right hand to pour himself more whenever he needed by the time they came back out. Jo sat at the bar with them, a bandage around her leg.

"It's three in the afternoon," Ellen noticed.

"What're you, my mom?" Dean teased. Ellen blinked at his slurring.

"How much of that have you had?" she asked.

He looked at her, then the bottle, then back at her. Then he shrugged and went to pour himself more.

"Um, no," Ellen said, snatching the bottle from him. "No more. Now boy, you tell me what's wrong. I haven't seen you this worked up… well, maybe ever."

Dean sighed. Maybe usually, he wouldn't have said anything, but the booze had loosened his tongue. "You ever feel like everyone you love is going to die and leave you alone?"

There was a steely silence before Ellen replied, "I'm a Hunter. I feel that way every day." Dean nodded. "But what made you feel that way today?" she asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You don't have enough liquor in this building to make me start talking about my feelings, Ellen."

She shook her head exasperatedly. "Oh, whatever. Just trying to help," she muttered, leaving the room. Now it was just Dean and Jo. He was looking at the bar instead of at her, but he could feel her staring at him.

"Did you think I was dying?" she finally asked.

"No," he muttered.

"And it made you that upset?" she said as if he had said yes.

Instead of answering, he leaned over the bar to grab the alcohol Ellen had taken away. Jo took Dean's hand out of the air. "No, I think you're done with that," Jo said.

Dean looked over to her. "Why?"

She raised an eyebrow. "For one, you aren't letting go of my hand."

He looked down at their hands. He was gripping hers hard, like she might go away if he let go.

"Oh." He let go and didn't try to reach for the alcohol again.

"So are you going to talk about what's going on?" she asked.

"Nothing's going on," he snapped. "All I know is that I'll never let another person I love die. Not on my watch."

She was looking at him in confusion. "Did someone die? Am I missing something?"

He sighed. "It's stupid," he said, "trust me, it's really stupid. I don't know why the hell it's bothering me so much. Honestly, not only is it a TV show, but it's a TV show in another dimension."

She blinked at him. "What?" she asked blankly.

"Long story," he replied. "But it's just got me thinking a lot, I guess. If I didn't have all you guys in my life, I don't know what I'd do."

She smiled. "I never knew you were so sentimental."

"Usually I'm not," he said roughly.

"Hey, don't go denying your best quality. I thought you were just a hopeless pervert."

"I am," he replied with his charming grin. She laughed a little and rolled her eyes, but then their eyes locked and they were left staring at each other.

"Oh," she breathed, "oh, none of that," she said in response to his facial expression. "You really have been drinking too much. Come on, go take a nap or something."

"What, I can only admire you when I've been drinking too much? Pretty sure I do it a lot. Just usually you aren't looking."

She smiled tentatively, like she wasn't sure if she actually wanted to smile at all, and bit her lip. "Come on, Dean. You need rest."

Finally he gave in and sat on the couch. Even in the middle of the day, he fell asleep in seconds.