With Alan driving like a bat out of hell, they make it back to the house in record time. Jo's heart beats a-mile-a-minute throughout the whole drive. It's a harrowing experience and she hates every second of it. The uncertainty, the fear that they won't be fast enough to save Dean or that they're going to be pulled over mix together in such a way that it makes her head spin. She has to focus on breathing steadily, otherwise she'll start hyperventilating and the last thing she wants is to freeze up when she's most needed.

When they finally arrive, Hazel is waiting for them with a stretcher ready. It looks like one of those they use in ambulances, probably procured from one of her contacts. Between the four of them, they load Dean onto it with minimal jostling. He protests weakly, but thankfully remains down for the count.

The first thing Hazel does, when they're inside the med room, is start a blood transfusion. It makes sense, Jo thinks distantly. He must have lost a fair amount of blood. She shakes herself then, realizing that her mind isn't firing on all cylinders. Her head needs to be clear, if she's going to be of any use. Right now, she's functioning on pure instinct, so she breathes deeply a few times to calm herself. In and out. Pause. Again in and out. When her hands stop shaking, Jo gets to work on helping Hazel prepare her equipment.

"You still remember your training from school?" Hazel asks her. Jo does a double take. Hazel laughs. "Your mom told me when you went to college. Was real proud of you, too. Then pissed when you dropped out."

"Yeah," Jo says, pushing down the guilt at having disappointed her mother. That's long over, now. "I only went for two years. Dropped out in third. Never forgot what I learned, though, 'cause I had to know it to patch up both myself and mom." She pulls on a pair of latex gloves after having washed her hands. "A few others too. Came in real handy."

"I'll bet." Hazel hands her a bonnet and Jo puts it on. "I taught Jim a lot of what I know, but another pair of hands won't hurt in this case. You think you're up for it?"

"I'll try." Jo has to swallow to clear her throat. The air feels suffocating. "If I don't, then I'll never be able to do it when it counts."

"This counts too, you know," Jim says, having apparently overheard their conversation. "You kept him from bleeding out in the car. You're gonna do fine."

"Thanks."

They transfer Dean to Hazel's operating table. Jim and Alan had, in the meantime, cut off Dean's clothes for easier access to his back. And also cleaned up most of the blood. But, even though Jo knows the two had been as gentle as possible, Dean seems to be in a great deal of pain. It's evident in the crease of his brow and the crinkles around his eyes. In his shallow breaths and the occasional whimper.

Hazel gives her a syringe with a clear liquid in it. Murmurs something about a very strong sedative. Jo gets to work, surprized that her hands are steady now. She realizes that, like any other bit of knowledge she has, this also is like muscle memory. And, once she starts, it's as if she's been doing it her whole life. She hands Hazel the tools she needs without hesitating or questioning herself. It gets easier with each task she completes. In no time, it's over and they have Dean settled in a hospital bed and hooked to multiple monitors. Jim and Alan push the stretcher and operating table out of the room.

"I still don't understand how he's alive," Hazel says. "Or how on Earth the damage wasn't more extensive. With the angle that rod was at and its length, from what Jim told me, he should be dead. I'd say cold and stiff by the time you found him. I can't explain it."

"Honestly," Jo says, as she connects the antibiotic drip Hazel passes her to the IV line, "I can't say I'm that surprized. He's been dead before, even been to Hell. Literally. Angels pulled him out that time, so anything is possible."

"Yeah, I heard the stories." Hazel removes her gloves and bonnet and bins them, then goes to wash her hands. "But I thought they were only that. Stories. Over-exaggerated by too many retellings."

"Well, not when it comes to the Winchester brothers, they're not. The two were pretty unique in the hunting world, even a decade ago. I guess they were always able to beat the odds, but I've heard that was due to God himself having an obsession for them."

When Hazel gives her a perplexed look, Jo just shrugs.

"It's a long story," she says, "one I don't know entirely. Only some bits I've heard from Jack. I'll tell you later."

"Okay." Hazel pats her on the shoulder. "Maybe you should get some rest, 'cause you look exhausted."

"I feel like I got run over by a train," Jo says. "But I wanna take this stuff," she points at the cut up clothes, "outside to Alan. I heard him say he was lighting a fire in the backyard."

"Alright." Hazel gestures towards Dean's prone form. "I'll keep an eye on him. The next few hours are gonna be critical. He's not out of the woods yet."

Jo nods. She can't think about how to handle the implications of that last statement just yet, so she distracts herself with clean-up. Forgoing another pair of gloves, because she has to wash up anyway, she first starts looking through Dean's pockets. She only finds some loose change and an old switchblade in his jacket. When she shakes what's left of the jeans, a phone falls out. Its screen is cracked and dark. Jo concludes that it must have been damaged in the fight that'd nearly claimed Dean's life.

"I can try to put the SIM card into one of our spare phones," Jim says, as he returns with a plastic trash bag in his hand.

Jo hands the phone over to him and takes the bag. It doesn't take long to put the pile of bloody rags in it and, when she's finished, she straightens up. Only Dean's boots have made it unscathed. Mostly. One of them has some blood on the side. Later, she'll try to clean it up, see if she can save that item of his at least. She takes her gloves off and throws them in too.

"Would be a good idea, especially if we could call Sam with it," Jo says, answering Jim's inquiry. "I still remember their old numbers, but if they were smart about it—which I know they usually are—they must have changed them long ago."

"Wait, you still know their numbers? After all this time?"

"I know everyone's numbers, even the one your parents used when you were a kid."

Jo smirks when that seems to leave Jim speechless. She ties off the bag and takes it with her as she heads out into the backyard. There, Alan is tending quite a bonfire, where he seems to have already burned some other stuff. Among which is, presumably, Dean's shroud.

"I was just about to come get those," he says, gesturing towards the load Jo's carrying.

Jo shrugs and tosses the bag onto the flames. Her hands start trembling again, so she shoves them in her pockets.

"No big deal," she says. "I needed some fresh air anyway and didn't wanna come outside empty handed."

"You did great in there. You know that, right?"

"Did my best," she says.

"Sometimes, that's all we can do. Especially in situations like this one."

"I know."

After a steadying inhale, Jo balls her hands into fists to stop them from shaking even more. The sun is already starting to come up, which means it took them at least three hours to finish up. Maybe a bit more. In any case, a glance at her wristwatch tells her that it's after five in the morning.

It'd been a grueling task, but she'd done it well and kept her wits. Jo knows that, had she had to do something like that before her stay in Hell, it would have been way harder to stay somewhat calm. Even now, it's not easy. But it would have been a hundred times worse when she'd been twenty-four, all the more so because it's someone she knows and cares about deeply.

When it comes to Dean, her feelings go beyond mere friendship. Even after all this time, her heart still speeds up a little at the simple thought of him. She's not ready to admit that to anyone but herself.

"How long have you known him?" Alan asks.

His voice breaks her out of her thoughts and she almost startles, yet manages to turn the movement into another shrug. When she tears her eyes away from the flames, Jo sees an odd expression on Alan's face. She can't read it all that well, but it looks suspiciously like he knows something. Or at least suspects it.

"It depends," she says. "Are we counting the time I spent in Hell, or only the years topside?"

Her attempt at humor makes Alan laugh. His eyes crinkle in the process, making crow's feet appear by his temples, and it strikes Jo again just how much time she'd missed. That the people she knows—who are still alive—are older than she remembers them. Jim wasn't even eleven years old when she'd died. That's time she'll never get back.

"I met Dean when he and his brother broke into the Roadhouse," Jo says. "They were looking for my mom, who'd left a message for John to get in touch. Had some information for him." She smiles fondly at the memory. "I punched him in the face, after he disarmed me and made a wise-ass observation about the place I was pointing my gun and the way I was holding it."

That gets a full out belly laugh. Jo joins him, feeling her muscles lose some of their tension. She's still damn proud of herself for clocking Dean that one time.

"That was," she continues, once the mirth has subsided, "about fourteen years ago, give or take. The two of them came by our bar a few times. I then snuck off to join them on a hunt without my mom's knowledge and she was so pissed. That's when she told me that John was my dad's partner on his last hunt. The one who got him killed."

"From what I've heard, John never worked well with others," Alan says. "And neither did his sons, most of the time. I'm amazed that your dad was willing to work with him."

"They got along." It's been years since Jo had forgiven the older Winchester for what had happened back then. "Mom said that John felt guilty for what went down. Never came by the Roadhouse again. He apparently never told his sons about it either. But I was angry at Dean which, in hindsight, wasn't really fair. So I didn't talk to him for a few years."

Jo lets out a sigh, moving her hands from her pockets to swipe at her face, but then remembers that her hands are dirty. Her palms are all sweaty, and there's some white stuff caked in between her fingers and under her nails. Probably chalk powder from the gloves she'd worn. Her clothes don't look much better. So, instead, she clasps her hands together in front of herself. Alan doesn't say anything to that, just listens as she goes on talking.

"I wasn't surprized he didn't tell me about the one-way ticket to Hell he'd gotten himself. I hated that I had to find out from a demon. I did get back in contact with Sam, though. We emailed back and forth for a while, and I told him about my idea to get a tattoo of a protection symbol against possession. He's the one who suggested the design. And then, I died and only saw Dean again once, when Osiris pulled me out to be a witness in his sham of a trial of Dean."

"Wait, Osiris actually showed up again?" Alan seems genuinely astonished by that information. "He hasn't been seen in at least a few centuries. He's been dormant since the Middle Ages. When was this?"

"I don't know exactly," Jo says. "Time in Hell is weird. On some occasions, it went by faster, but mostly it was slowed down somehow. It felt like I spent more than just eleven years there." She thinks for a moment, trying to recall anything that might indicate how long it'd been between her death and that event. "It definitely wasn't much later after I died. A couple of years, tops. Dean looked way younger than he does now, but not much different from when I last saw him before that point."

Alan seems to ponder that for a while. He studies her intently, then, making Jo wonder what he's thinking. After a long stretch of silence, he clears his throat and looks away. Stares at the fire.

"Wow, you two have quite a complicated history."

"You could say that," she says out loud.

You have no idea, she thinks to herself, struggling not to snort at the irony. Complicated doesn't even begin to describe what'd been between her and Dean. She still hasn't told anyone about what that demon had made her watch in Hell. About the number of times he'd shown her illusions of Dean being tortured or killed. The nightmares she has sometimes...

Alan drops the subject when it's obvious she won't be forthcoming with any more details. He bends and picks up a bucket of water and upends it over the fire. It sizzles and goes out, now releasing dark plumes of smoke into the atmosphere.

Jo is very thankful that he doesn't push to find out more. It's not something that she's sorted out even for herself. Not completely, anyway.

The sun is fully up by now. Jo thinks it's nearing six o'clock by the looks of it. So, with their tasks accomplished, the two head back inside, where Jim has—in the meantime—managed to put Dean's SIM card in one of their back-up phones.

"I had to run it through a program to crack the passcode," he says, offering the device to Jo. "He's got a lot of voicemail on it, most of it from last night. I haven't listened to any yet."

Jo takes the phone and looks through the list of messages and missed calls. The majority are from someone called Donna, at regular half-an-hour intervals. A few from someone called Jody. And from Claire, Alex, Patience and Eileen. The latter had only made video calls and sent a few texts. As Jo listens to them, she realizes that all these people had started calling because they'd known something was going to happen. Per Jody's first message, it's revealed that Patience, whoever she is, had had a vision of Dean's death in that barn. They'd all tried to first warn him and then check to see if he's still alive, urging Dean to call them back.

"Pick up your damn phone, old man!" is the last voicemail Claire had left.

The texts from Eileen are pretty worried sounding too, also mentioning that Sam isn't answering his phone either. Jo finds his number in the contacts list and dials it, but it rings out and goes to voicemail. After several more attempts with the same result, Jo decides to call Jody, who'd been the first to call Dean.

"Dean, thank God!" Jody answers two rings later, speech rough.

"Hi Jody," Jo says. "My name is Jo Harvelle, I'm a friend of Dean's."

"Oh…" the other woman says. There's a short pause, followed by a sigh. "Is he… alright?"

"He's alive." Jo wants to rub at her eyes again, but remembers that she still hasn't washed her hands. "I was on a hunt with some other friends of mine and we found him in an abandoned barn. He was hurt badly and we suspect Sam thought he was dead."

"Have you managed to talk to Sam?"

"No, he's not answering," Jo says. "I'll keep trying, though. I doubt he left the area yet."

"Okay." Jody clears her throat and there's some shifting in the background. "If you don't manage to reach him, you should probably call Eileen. She's his girlfriend."

That's an interesting development, Jo finds.

"She's also a hunter," Jody continues, "and she's on her way there. So am I, but she'll most likely arrive faster, since she took more shortcuts than I did. Last time she messaged me, she was only a few hours from Canton."

"It's probably better to call her straight away," Jo says, "because we're currently in East Sparta. I'll send you the address too. No use in you heading for a completely different town."

"Thanks, Jo." Jody takes in a shuddering breath. "But make sure that when you ring up Eileen, you do it via video call. She's deaf, so she won't be able to hear you."

"Will do. See you when you get here."

After closing the connection, Jo does as promised and sends Jody the address to Alan's home. She then tries to reach Sam a couple more times, with no success. Dialing Eileen, she readies herself. She'd had a deaf roommate in college who'd taught her ASL, but she's very rusty on its use after all these years. Hopefully, she won't mess up a lot.

When the call connects, the other woman's relieved expression falls, replaced by a frown.

"You're not Dean," she says.

"No, I'm a friend of his," Jo says, using both spoken words and signs. "I'm Jo Harvelle. Jody said to call you. Dean's alive, but he was hurt pretty bad." She stops, for a moment not remembering the sign she wants to use. "I was hunting with some friends when we found him. We don't know where Sam is, though."

She stops again, hand hanging in the air awkwardly. Jo wants to apologize for her stilted signing when Eileen's next words throw her for a loop.

"I thought you were dead," she says.

That's the last thing Jo had expected her to know. She's left speechless for a few seconds, but then she shakes her head. Recovers and struggles to recall the sign she has to use.

"I was, until recently," Jo replies. "It's a long story. But to make it short, I was trapped in Hell by the former God, Jack found me and, to stop some rebel demons from using my restored body as a meat suit for something else, he gave me another chance at life. Sounds strange, but it's true."

"Doesn't sound that strange," Eileen says, face lighting up a little. "Weirder things have happened the last few years."

"So I've been told," Jo says. "Repeatedly. Especially around Sam and Dean."

"Yeah, they've been through the wringer." Eileen looks to the side for a moment, then goes on. "So, you managed to take Dean to a hospital?"

"No," Jo says, "my friend's wife is a surgeon and has everything she needs here, in her own home. And the wound wasn't as bad as it could have been, although he would have died without medical attention if we hadn't found him in time."

"And Sam wasn't there?"

"No, we think that he went to take the victims to safety and that he was going to return."

"So he must have thought Dean was dead."

"More than likely." Jo sighs and rubs her forehead with the back of her hand. She'll have to shower anyway. "Current theory is that Dean went into a state of shock that slowed his pulse. I tried calling Sam from Dean's number, but he's not picking up. And I'm a little worried about that."

"Yeah, me too," Eileen says. "He's not answering anyone's calls. I think we're gonna have to go looking for him when I get there."

"About that," Jo says, "don't head to Canton. Come straight to East Sparta. It's where we're at. I'll help you look, 'cause I know the area pretty well."

"Okay, thanks."

"I'll text you the address."

Once they trade goodbyes, Jo hangs up and, like she'd done with Jody, she sends Eileen directions on where to come via SMS. She then puts the phone on the table, feeling even more exhausted. It's been a long night.

The reality of the hunting life and how abruptly it can end hits her again. She and Dean, and Sam too, are pretty much the exception to the rule, what with them getting a second chance—and beyond. Most other hunters bite the dust and that's it. End of the line. Game over.

Jo stands up and leaves those bleak thoughts behind. She needs a good scrub and a change of clothes, because she's dirty and she stinks. A combination of sweat, blood, disinfectant and gasoline. So she makes her way to the bathroom.

There's a tempting pull to go check on Dean first, but she resists it. Cleaning up before that is more important. Especially since Dean is in a vulnerable state right now and the last thing he needs, on top of everything else, is an infection. Jo may not be a certified nurse, but she knows to follow the rules she'd learned. She'll go see him when she's freshened up.

Eileen almost swerves off the road when her cell phone starts buzzing. She pulls over quickly and takes it out of her pocket, then almost has a heart attack when she sees who's calling. In her rush to answer, she hits the screen hard enough to bruise her fingers.

But when the video call connects, it's not Dean on the other end—and she says as much. It's a young woman, with short-ish, wavy blond hair and brown eyes, who looks slightly familiar for some reason. She seems to be about the same age as Eileen, give or take. When she introduces herself, Eileen realizes where she'd seen her face before.

It's Jo Harvelle, who has been dead for over a decade. And who, apparently, knows some sign language and that Eileen is deaf. Her signs are halting and a little awkward, but Eileen has no trouble understanding her.

Eileen does have a worrying feeling that this may very well be a trap. Until Jo mentions Jack and her imprisonment in Hell. That clears up some of her misgivings. Also, the fact that Jo'd spoken to Jody, whom she'll have to check in with, lends some more credence to the whole situation. She can't say she's surprized, though, because stranger things have happened around the Winchesters for years. Eileen herself had been sent to Hell, so she is inclined to believe Jo. Won't stop her from being cautious anyway.

Soon after finishing up the conversation, a message with the address in East Sparta, Ohio, is sent to her from Dean's number. Eileen puts it in the GPS app on her phone and takes a deep breath. Lets it out.

It's obvious that the other woman isn't a shapeshifter, as her eyes hadn't flared over the video feed. They would have, if she'd been one. Nevertheless, Eileen calls Jody, who confirms that she'd talked to the same person only shortly before Eileen had. They both agree to be careful and go in prepared, just in case.

Once her hands have stopped shaking, Eileen starts driving again. She doesn't like not knowing anything about Sam, but she's glad that Dean, at least, is alive. He'll be able to enjoy his freedom from Chuck, after all. But the fact that this has happened, so soon after the old God's downfall… Eileen finds it very suspicious. It's hard to believe that this hadn't been, in some way, part of Chuck's plan for the brothers. Which begs the question of what else lies in store for them in the future. What other horrors had that bastard cooked up for them?

Her mind then wanders to Jo saying she'd been trapped in Hell. She remembers Sam telling her that Chuck had sent others there before, just because he could. Like Kevin, the previous prophet, who'd been innocent. Or Eileen herself, just because she'd been killed by a hellhound. She recalls Sam telling her that Jo had suffered the same fate: death by hellhound. But Sam had hoped that the latter had been spared that, due to dying in an explosion, shortly after suffering her wounds. Apparently, it hadn't been so.

As she follows the GPS' instructions, Eileen reflects on a conversation she'd had with Sam only a week prior, regarding Dean's relationships.

Sam had confided in her that only a handful of women had caught Dean's attention over the years. He'd told her their stories. Cassie, who was Dean's first real love. The first woman who got to know the real Dean, whom he told about hunting what went bump in the night. They'd drifted apart. Lisa, who was at first just an old fling, but who became a lifeline to Dean in one of the most difficult times of his life. He had to let her go. For her own safety and her son's, whom Dean had loved like his own. And Anna, the fallen angel reborn in a human body, who had—after regaining her grace—betrayed them. Good though her intentions were, Dean was still very disappointed. He'd obviously loved all of those women in different ways.

Then Sam mentioned Jo Harvelle, a young woman the brothers met after their father's death. Someone who, Sam had long suspected, had been attracted to Dean, one way or another. And, a few times, he'd thought Dean was interested right back. But nothing came of it.

Their father's involvement in her father's death was the main reason for them drifting apart. He also had an inkling that Dean's reluctance to involve her in their life was another factor contributing to the distance. Despite that, she still ended up dying during a hunt, while helping them in their attempt to kill the Devil.

Sam had retold the events of that day with great sadness etched on his face, even though it'd been a long time since. Told her how Jo saved Dean from getting ripped apart by a hellhound and, in the process, ended up clawed open herself. She stayed behind, with her mother by her side, to blow the beasts sky high. Then, a couple of years later, Osiris used her spirit to punish Dean for the guilt he felt about her death, reopening an old wound. Sam was convinced that, of all the women Dean had cared about—or loved even—losing Jo was his biggest regret. Because they never even had a chance to see if things could have worked out.

Sam thought that, if Dean ever were to have a partner, Jo would have been the best fit for him. The life they led was not fit for civilians, no matter how understanding they were of the situation. Something would follow a hunter home, eventually. What happened with Lisa was proof enough. Not many hunters could pull off coming home to their significant other without it biting them in the ass sooner or later. So, for that to work, both parties had to be involved in the same career, so to speak.

Sam had, in the end, shown Eileen the picture their friend Bobby had taken on the eve of the hunt to take out Lucifer. A photo he'd found stashed in one of the old hunter's files and kept without Dean's knowledge. In it, Jo looked so young. Then again, so did Sam and Dean.

Her hair was long and blond. The smile she flashed was bright, almost impish, and reached her eyes. And her face was full, a flush on her cheeks visible even in the black and white photograph.

Their discussion led to the conclusion that the unexplored possibility with Jo, followed by the failure with Lisa and, later, the reminder of Jo's loss, might have been what made Dean reluctant to try again. Too many blows in quick succession. And Eileen knew that Dean wanted more than what the hunting life had to offer. Sam had told her the same. She'd also seen the wistful look on Dean's face when she and Sam were having an animated conversation via ASL. She noticed him observing them quite a few times, when he thought they couldn't see him. Dean had even said it himself, that he once wanted a family. A wife and a couple of kids. A home.

Looking back on it, Eileen realizes that the woman she'd spoken to on the phone had been a far cry from the one she'd seen in the old photo. She'd been almost unrecognizable, with her shorter hair and slightly haunted look, like someone who'd seen Hell and lived to tell the tale. An expression she sometimes sees on both Sam and Dean, and on herself when looking in the mirror. Which makes her slightly more inclined to believe that it'd really been Jo who'd called her. It makes sense for Jack to free her from the Pit and give her a second chance, seeing as she'd died for the greater good. She deserves it.

Eileen wonders how much of that had been Chuck's doing. Both Dean and Sam hadn't had much luck in the relationship department throughout their life. How much of it had been orchestrated by Chuck, just to keep the brothers isolated and focused only on the next big world-ending threat? And merely thinking about it makes her want to strangle the weasel all over again. Because with each piece of the puzzle she puts together, she's more and more certain that the asshole had had a hand in every single one of Sam and Dean's losses. He had been God, after all. And he'd wanted to drive the brothers to the point of killing each other. What better way to do that than to make sure they had no one else by their side?

Damn it! Eileen thinks, gritting her teeth. She hopes that this isn't some sort of elaborate trap. If some demon spawn has cooked up a plan to lure hunters to their demise, she will personally make sure the bitch is dead by the end of the week. She'll send it to the Empty piece by piece.

But she tries not to think of the worst case scenario. Tries to be optimistic, even though she knows that a sunny disposition won't help her in the eventuality of this not being what it seems. So Eileen parks at a rest stop a few miles shy of East Sparta and arms herself with everything she could possibly need. Lines every pocket with a different kind of weapon. Makes sure she has several types of bullets loaded in her gun and a flask of holy water within reach. Even pulls up the recording of Sam reciting the exorcism rite on her phone. By the time all that is done, she's armed to the teeth. Almost literally.

She then drives the rest of the stretch to the address she's been given. It's late morning by now, just after 10:30. The place is pretty big, located on the outskirts of the western side of town, and old. Must have been a farmhouse way back when. It's well maintained, and there are several cars in the driveway. One of them is a huge pick-up truck.

On the big, wrap-around porch, there are two people sitting, deep in conversation. When her car gets closer, Eileen can see that one of them is Jo. The other is a slightly older black woman, maybe in her late forties or early fifties, and she looks familiar too.

Eileen pulls up next to the monster truck, so she can see at least one side of the house. The two women stand up and get closer to the railing as Eileen exits her car. Which is when she recognizes the other. It's Hazel Montgomery, an old friend of Lilian's. She relaxes marginally. They're people she knows, which is a blessing, but she doesn't completely drop her guard.

She hasn't seen Hazel, or her family, since she'd been a teenager. Since Lilian had died almost twenty years ago. Her adoptive mother had been good friends with Alan, Hazel's husband and, by extension, with the doctor herself. Eileen knows that the older woman, being a surgeon, had done favors of the medical variety for the hunters who'd crossed her threshold. She'd done the same for Lilian, when the latter had been ill, referring her to specialists when it was obvious that the affliction was not something she could treat. Eileen just hadn't made the connection in her mind when Jo had mentioned a surgeon.

The two women stop a few feet from her and Jo smiles, raising a silver flask in salute and offering it to Eileen. Hazel smiles too.

"Hi Eileen," she says. "It's good to see you again. Didn't know if it was you Jo talked to, or if the name was just a coincidence."

Eileen takes Jo's flask and hands the other woman her own.

"Jo didn't say who her friend was," Eileen says, taking a mouthful of water. There's a distinct aftertaste of whiskey. "I didn't know it was you until I got here."

When nothing happens after Jo drinks her own sip of holy water, Eileen relaxes another fraction.

"Small world, I guess," Jo says.

They swap flasks again, then do a few more tests on the other, each one for a different possibility. Soon, they've ruled out anything supernatural. They're certain that the other is human. Eileen can finally unwind completely, so she holds out a hand for Jo to shake.

"I'm Eileen Leahy," she says. "I'm happy you're back from the dead. Hell sucks big time."

"Yeah, it does," Jo says. She frowns. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"I am," Eileen replies. "Hellhound got me. Turns out that people killed by those beasts, no matter the reason, go straight to the Pit. And once there, they can't get into Heaven. Or they couldn't. I'm guessing Jack changed that."

"More than likely." Jo tucks away the silver dagger she'd used to prick Eileen's finger. "He offered me a place up there, with my family, but I wasn't gonna let a bunch of demons use my restored body to do who knows what fucked up things."

Before Eileen can say anything to that, another person comes down the porch steps. The young man isn't familiar to her, but she sees some of the features—especially the hair and eyes—are a blend of both Hazel and Alan. The curls he's obviously inherited from his mother. His skin is lighter than hers, though, and he's an inch or two taller than his father. But the eye color is almost identical to Alan's. She smiles at him.

"Wow, Jim," Eileen says, "last time I saw you, you could barely walk. And you were so tiny."

Now, he towers over her, although he's nowhere near Sam's height. Not even Dean's.

"I don't remember you, but mom said she knew your mom." He extends his hand. "Nice to meet you, Eileen."

She shakes it.

"Coffee's ready, if you're interested," Jim continues, gesturing towards the house.

"You want to see Dean?" Hazel asks, drawing her attention with a light touch to her elbow before speaking.

Eileen nods and lets the doctor lead her inside. Dean is still in Hazel's medical room, hooked up to all sorts of monitoring devices and IV lines, out cold. He's got a breathing mask on. And, even though his vitals look weak, at least he's alive.

They gather on the porch, afterwards, with mugs in hand and trade retellings of the last couple of days. Eileen is thankful that Jo seems to get better at signing the more she does it. Makes communication a lot easier, because reading lip movements gets tiring after a while, despite her proficiency in doing so. Nevertheless, it's noon by the time they're done.

"I've been calling Sam at regular intervals," Jo says, "right up until you arrived. Still got no answer."

"He's probably looking for Dean," Eileen says. It's only the two of them on the porch now. "You said it looked like he planned to come back and I also think that's most likely what he intended. If he got back and found Dean gone, he's going to be pissed."

"Oh, shit!" Jo says. "He's gonna be doubly pissed, 'cause we set fire to that barn. With the vamp corpses inside. Maybe he thinks Dean was still in there when it was lit."

"We need to find him, before he does something really… extreme."

She doesn't voice her fear that it might already be too late.

"I have an idea." Jo puts her cup down and grabs the jacket she'd thrown on the back of her chair. "We could go back to the barn and see if he returned there. If not, we can start searching the area. Do they still have that black Impala?"

"Yeah," Eileen says, allowing a small smile to grace her features. "It's Dean's pride and joy."

Jo snorts. Or, at least, Eileen thinks she does. The expression on the other woman's face looks like exasperated amusement.

"I swear he treats that car like it's an actual person," Jo says.

"Can't say I blame him, 'cause it's a pretty good car." Eileen points to her own Plymouth Valiant. "Older cars have their disadvantages, but they're really sturdy. More reliable than the new junk they make nowadays."

"Can't argue there."

They get in Eileen's car and Jo gives her instructions on how to reach the place they'd found Dean. It's not an extremely long drive. To her surprize, Jo doesn't seem bothered by her borderline reckless driving.

Sam had always worn a look of extreme worry every time he'd sat in the passenger seat, with her driving. And she'd always taken great pleasure in making him squirm.

When they arrive there, the first thing Eileen notices is the smell of smoke. It's a wonder no one had called the fire department. Then she sees the Impala parked just off to the left. She can't immediately see Sam, though, until she's parallel to the other car.

Only the back of his head and his shoulders are visible from this angle. It looks like he's sitting on the ground, leaning on the front fender of the Impala. Eileen cuts the engine and turns to face Jo.

"Maybe it's better if I hang back for a second," Jo signs. "Don't want to freak him out straight away."

"Good idea. Wait for my signal."

They both exit the car slowly, like they're trying not to spook a wild animal. From her standing position, Eileen can now see that Sam's phone had been tossed in the passenger seat, face down. The window is open, so she picks it up and turns it to see how many missed calls he has. It rings again, Claire's face appearing on the screen. Donna had texted her, saying she'd keep trying to get ahold of Sam. But he doesn't even twitch. Eileen doesn't know if it's on silent, or if he's been ignoring it all night. If it's the latter, that means he's in really bad shape. She hopes that he isn't hurt physically too.

Taking a step closer, her eyes roam her boyfriend's frame. He's a mess. His hair is disheveled and his clothes look singed. There are burns on his hands as well. Tears tracks run down his cheeks as he stares unseeingly at the smoking husk of the barn. There's also an almost empty whiskey bottle by his side, but he seems to have forgotten it.

Sam doesn't react until Eileen touches his shoulder, squeezing gently. Only then does he register her presence and his eyes fill with fresh tears. She puts a hand against the side of his face, noticing that the skin from his jaw to his cheek is also slightly red. Not the part she's touching, though. He leans into her hand and she crouches down to be eye level.

Then, he becomes aware of Jo's presence. His eyes widen a fraction, after which he rubs a hand over his face a couple of times. Blinks rapidly, like he thinks he's hallucinating. Eileen sees his lips form the other woman's name, his expression a mix of disbelief and suspicion.

"It's really her," Eileen tells him, using sign, after drawing his attention away from Jo. "I checked. She's human. She'll tell you the whole story on the way back."

"Back where?" Sam asks, his look morphing into confusion.

"A friend's house," she says, now also using words. "They're the ones who set fire to the barn after finding Dean. He's alive."

"But…" Sam stops and swallows hard. He sags even more against the car. "He was dead. Not breathing, no pulse. He was starting to get cold."

"Shock," Eileen says. "They found him just in time and patched him up."

"Oh, God…"

"Hey! Sam!" Eileen grabs one of his hands. Holds on, even though it makes him flinch. "You couldn't have known."

"I should've!" he says. His voice breaks. "It's happened to me before and Dean thought I was dead. I should have known."

As Sam starts hyperventilating, Eileen kneels in the dirt and embraces him. She lets him cry into her shoulder and holds him until his sobs have subsided. Slowly, his breathing evens out. When they pull back from each other, he looks better. Calmer. Tears are still streaming down his face, but he doesn't look like he's going to fall apart at the seams anymore.

"How much of that have you had?" Eileen asks him, indicating the bottle.

"It was almost full when I started," is his answer.

Eileen turns to Jo.

"You know how to drive this thing?"

"Yeah," Jo says and nods.

Eileen pats down Sam's pockets until she finds the keys to the car. She tosses them over to Jo, then picks up the discarded bottle. Unlike his brother would, Sam doesn't protest. Then, the two of them laboriously manhandle—for lack of a better term—Sam into the Impala's front passenger seat.

Before they leave, though, Eileen pulls Jo aside and, checking her back is to Sam, uses sign to relay her message.

"Make sure to pull over if Sam needs to puke, otherwise Dean will blow a gasket."

Something along those lines. She smirks and Jo looks like she snorts a laugh, quickly covering her mouth with a hand to hide the gesture. Eileen then turns back to Sam and kisses his forehead. She gives him a short peck on the lips too.

With a wave to Jo, who's already in the driver's seat when she waves back, Eileen gets behind the wheel of her own car. She's happy they didn't have to search for long to find Sam, she muses, as she follows the Impala onto the road leading towards East Sparta.