AN: I appreciate everyone's enthusiasm and thank you all for the lovely reviews. I'll only ask that you have patience, because I'm also working as I'm writing this, and my time is sometimes limited. Thanks for understanding.

Also, for those who need it, there's a content/trigger warning at the end of the chapter. Have a look and stay safe.

When she gets in the Impala, Jo has to first adjust the bench seat so she can reach the pedals. Both Sam and Dean are so damn tall. Once she manages to get it in just the right position, she waves back to Eileen and starts the car, leading the way. She notices that Sam's legs are bent at an awkward angle, but he doesn't complain about it. He must be used to driving with Eileen, who is even shorter than Jo. They ride in silence for around five minutes, when Sam speaks up at last.

"I'm sorry, Jo." His voice is raspy, probably from all the crying he'd done throughout the night. "We didn't know."

"You couldn't have known," she replies.

"Why didn't you say something, when Osiris had you topside? Did he stop you from doing it?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"Because I didn't want you two to feel even guiltier about the whole thing. Especially Dean."

"You know we both would have done everything we could to get you out, right?" He sounds like he's holding back tears again. "We both thought he'd pulled you out of Heaven and that you went back there when he was gone."

"That is exactly why I didn't say anything." Jo takes a left turn, then has to stop at a red light. Using the opportunity, she rubs at her eyes. "With the way Dean blamed himself for my death, how do you think he would have reacted to finding out I was in Hell?"

"You reckon he's gonna be happier finding out now?"

"Oh, I know he won't be," Jo says. He's likely going to be very pissed. "But if he'd gotten hurt or, worse, dead trying to free me from the Pit, how do you imagine that would have made me feel?"

She won't think about all the scenarios that bastard demon had made her watch. Not going to think about all the ways Dean could have gotten himself ripped to shreds by hellhounds. She doesn't need her nightmares invading her waking hours too, thank you very much. An eternity of those is more than enough.

"God, Jo, you've been trapped there for almost eleven years." From the corner of her eye, she can see him wipe away some of the tears that have fallen free. "In Hell time, that's…"

"A lot," she says. "I know."

"Why didn't you break out earlier, when there was that rift Chuck tore open?"

"I didn't even know about it. And even if I did, I wouldn't have been able to get out of that cell. That door was the only one he didn't open."

She tells him what Tessa and Rowena had discovered when they'd found her. That Chuck had been the one to lock her up and throw away the key, so to speak. She notices the surprize on his face when she mentions Tessa, but he doesn't interrupt her. He lets her tell him whatever she chooses and doesn't ask any questions.

Before long, they're back at Alan's house. Jo observes as Sam cases the place, the same as any hunter would, and she can't blame him for it. It's unknown territory and a surreal situation.

Parking the Impala as out of the way as she can, Jo's eyes take in an unfamiliar SUV. Pretty new model, too. She turns to Sam, but there's something that looks like recognition on his face. As Jo returns her gaze to the other car, she spots someone on the porch talking to Alan. Looks like they're a woman, with very short, dark hair and dressed in casual attire. It's close enough to the usual hunter's garb.

"You know who that is?" Jo asks Sam, pointing out the stranger on the porch.

"That's Jody. She's an old friend of ours."

"Oh." Jo remembers now that she'd talked to Jody on the phone, before getting in touch with Eileen. "I forgot about her. I called her when I couldn't get you on the line and she told me to contact Eileen."

"You spoke to her?"

"Yeah, she was the first one to call and leave a message on Dean's number last night." Jo cuts the engine and pulls the key out of the ignition, then turns to face Sam again. "When you didn't answer, I thought I'd start with her, then go through the others in Dean's list."

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up, Jo. I was just so…"

"I know. Don't worry about it, Sam."

He nods, seeming to swallow thickly. They exit the car and head towards the house. When Jody sees them, she excuses herself from the conversation with Alan and makes a beeline down the steps to Sam. She tackles him in a fierce hug and he embraces her back just as tightly. He's still a little unsteady on his feet, but Jody, though much shorter than Sam, manages to keep him standing.

Once Eileen joins them at the foot of the porch stairs, Jody lets go of Sam and his girlfriend takes over support duty. Jo is, frankly, astonished that he's still functional, considering his bountiful alcohol intake. Must be because hunters are used to ingesting large amounts of the stuff. Developing high tolerance is unavoidable in their line of work. Most of the time.

"Hi," Jody says, drawing Jo's attention. "I'm Jody Mills. I'm guessing you're Jo, the one I spoke to on the phone?"

"Yeah, that's me."

She shakes Jody's offered hand. The woman has a firm grip, yet not too tight. Her smile is friendly. From close up, Jo notices that her hair isn't as dark as it'd looked from a distance. The pixie cut she's sporting is flecked with a lot of gray, but she doesn't seem much older than what Dean should be. Around Hazel's age.

"Thank you for everything," Jody goes on. "If it hadn't been for you, it would have taken me a lot longer to find these two knuckleheads. I'm really grateful you saved me that worry."

"No problem."

Jo wonders if Jody, like Eileen, knows about her having been dead until recently.

"Can I see Dean?" Sam asks, voice thick with lingering tears. "Please."

"I'll make you a deal," Alan says. "You let my wife have a look at your hands and she'll take you to see your brother. What do you say?"

"Okay," Sam says, sounding small.

Jo can tell he's exhausted. The fight with the vamp nest, witnessing what he'd thought was his brother's death—for the umpteenth time—and then the whole ordeal of thinking that he'd left him to burn, along with a bunch of monsters, must have really taken a toll on him. Add to that the alcohol and the realization that Dean hadn't actually been dead… yeah, it's hitting him hard right about now.

So they all follow Alan into the house. Hazel exits the kitchen and intercepts Sam, leading him towards her infirmary with Eileen's help. The rest of them head into the living room, where Jim is, once again, waiting with coffee. Which is good, because everyone seems dead on their feet and in need of a boost. A quick glance at the clock on the mantelpiece tells her that it's nearing lunchtime. Jo would bet her right arm that not even Jody had gotten much in the way of sleep. She and the others clearly hadn't.

About ten minutes later, Eileen rejoins them. She goes straight to the coffee pot and pours herself a generous helping of black coffee, then gulps it down. Refills her cup and drinks some more. Definitely sleep deprived.

Jo decides to pass the time by engaging Jody in conversation. The older woman reminds her a bit of her own mother, with the way she worries about Sam and Dean. Through their talk, Jo finds out that she's an old friend of Bobby's, which is how she'd come to know the brothers. On top of being a hunter—the motivation being tragedy, just like with most others in their line of work—she's also a cop. Not exactly easy to pull off, in Jo's opinion. She also discovers that Claire, Alex and Patience are young women Jody had taken under her wing, and some of them even do some hunting of their own. They talk about various other things, with Eileen sometimes chiming in.

And another thing hits her as surreal then. That these two complete strangers, hunters though they are, accept her without questioning her being back from the dead too much. They just go with the flow. As if coming back from the grave is nothing out of the ordinary. No big deal. What other horrors have these women witnessed, not to be fazed at all by the whole situation? Eileen's attitude is to be somewhat expected, if she'd also been to Hell. But Jody doesn't even blink when Jo mentions she'd been in the Pit.

Maybe it's because the brothers themselves had never stayed dead for long. Eileen too. It's possible Jody is simply used to it by now, this sort of thing happening to her friends. It still baffles Jo, nonetheless.

With Sam's return from the infirmary—hands bandaged and ointment smeared on the side of his face that had gotten singed—the conversation is steered in another direction. For Jody, Eileen and Sam's benefit, Jo recounts the sequence of events that'd led to her return to the living. As she talks, she can see that Eileen, especially, is holding herself back from angrily reacting to the revelation that Chuck had been responsible for her fate. Sam looks like he's thinking really hard of all the ways he could strangle the former God with the guy's own guts. Jo comes to the conclusion that telling Dean about the whole thing, when he wakes up, won't be fun.

From what Jody had said, Dean seems to have taken the fact that they'd been Chuck's puppets really hard. He'd hated the dude with a burning passion. When he finds out about what he'd done to Jo, he's more than likely going to be furious. Jo doesn't know if she's inclined to try to stop him from killing Chuck, or join him. She'll think about it.

By the time she reaches the end of her account, Sam looks stone-cold sober. There are bags under his eyes and he still looks like crap. His hands are steady, though, as if he hadn't just gone through one of the worst ordeals of his life. Maybe he's gotten used to these near-death experiences too.

"I'm more than happy to have you all stay here as long as you need," Alan says.

Jo snaps out of her thoughts, realizing that she'd missed the last chunk of the conversation.

"We don't want to impose," Jody says, casting a glance Sam's way.

"Dean and I still have the motel paid for the next few nights," Sam says.

He sounds like he's trying to convince himself.

"Nonsense," Hazel says. "Go get your things, if there's anything you left there. This house is big enough for everyone here."

"Okay," Sam says when Hazel gives him a stern look. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it," Alan says.

Eileen convinces Sam to let her go to the motel alone to get his and Dean's stuff. Jim offers to go with her, which seems to calm Sam somewhat. Jody distracts him for a while, then, by telling him about Claire and Kaia's latest hunt. Jo only half listens to their conversation.

Her thoughts keep wandering to Dean. She'd only briefly gone to the med room to check on him, after getting herself cleaned up. But having been antsy while waiting for Eileen to arrive, she hadn't been able to stand still for long. So now she wonders about how he'll react when he wakes up and sees her. Will he freak out? Or will he be as blasé about it as the others are? It's eating her up, the fact that she can't anticipate his response. And then, when he finds out she hasn't been in Heaven all this time, like he'd thought…

Her musings are interrupted by the return of Eileen and Jim. The former cajoles Sam to join her in getting some rest and they head for one of Alan's many spare rooms. While Jim helps them get settled, Hazel does the same with Jody.

"You okay?" Alan asks her, once the others have all filed out of the room.

"I'm getting there," she replies. "It's weird, but I don't think I can sleep yet. Even though I haven't really rested since the day before yesterday, I feel like a damn live wire."

"That's normal. It was your first hunt after a long time. You'll get used to the change, eventually."

"Wasn't much of a hunt, though," she says. "More like a race against time to save a friend from kicking the bucket."

"Not much of a difference."

"You're right."

In the end, she bids Alan a good night. Then, she aims straight for the infirmary to see how Dean's doing. If she can't sleep, she might as well do something useful. She drags a chair closer to the hospital bed Dean's lying in and sits down. Begins her vigil.

As she studies what's visible of Dean's face under the oxygen mask, Jo starts to catalog the differences from the image in her mind she remembers. His hair hasn't turned gray yet, but there are crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. His features look pretty much the same, only more mature. She still can't believe he's in his forties. That's older than her dad had gotten. Older than many hunters usually get, no matter how good they are at the job. When he'd first died, after his deal had been up, he hadn't even been thirty. It's true that Chuck had orchestrated everything that's ever happened to the brothers, but Jo wants to think that Dean survived it all despite that. Not because of it.

His prone figure is surrounded by a multitude of tubes and cables, stuck to or into various parts of his body. There's even something that looks like—yep, it is—a catheter. Which makes sense. Dean's out cold and will probably not be making any trips to the bathroom anytime soon.

Giving in to the sudden urge to do so, Jo takes Dean's right hand in both of hers. It's the one that doesn't have anything attached to it. And she's pleasantly surprized to find it's warm to the touch. She doesn't know why she'd expected it to be any different. His left arm has an IV drip taped to the crook of his elbow and there's a pulse oximeter on that index finger. The heart monitor gives off regular beeps now, a far cry from the shrill sounds it'd made when they'd first hooked him up to said machine. Jo sighs in relief and relaxes, finally, giving Dean's hand a gentle squeeze.

He's alive. He's alive.

Dean comes to in bits and pieces. After being returned to his body, there's a lot of pain and darkness. He remembers slipping in and out of consciousness, hearing voices he didn't recognize. One is familiar, though, but he can't place it. A woman's voice. Then there's agony, as he's lifted and carried somewhere, followed by the added uncomfortable feeling of lying on the back seat of a car. What feels like a relatively short, and fast, drive. Agony again, as said car hits a pothole.

He remembers opening his eyes and realizing that his upper body is propped on someone's lap. Looking up, he's met with none other than Jo Harvelle, face pale and worried. He blinks sluggishly, unable to comprehend what he's seeing.

"It's okay," she says, "it's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay."

He slips under again, only briefly coming to when he's moved once more. But there's not much he can do except groan as the pain spikes. Then there's another bout of mind numbing agony, when he's moved about in what seems to be the process of removing his clothes. Or cutting them off, more like. Whoever it is that's doing it is very gentle. But there's a hole in his back and chest, and he can barely draw air into his lungs. All he's capable of is the occasional whimper as he struggles to just breathe. He feels like he's drowning. And it freaking hurts so bad.

Through it all, he hears that familiar voice talking to someone else and finally figures out whom it belongs to. It's Jo's voice. He doesn't know why, but it doesn't surprize him. Somehow, it makes sense. He'd seen her, hadn't he?

After all that, he's again moved to a different surface. He tries—in vain—to open his eyes, to see for himself if it's really her. If he both sees and hears her, then it must be true. But then he feels a prick in the crook of his elbow and the sweet relief of oblivion swallows him, this time taking the pain away.

Next time Dean's awake, it's brief. There's the beeping of some sort of machine in the background, steady and rhythmic. A heart monitor. There's also something on his face, but it doesn't bother him, so he leaves it be. And he doesn't think he'll have the energy to lift his hand and prod around to see what it is. When he registers the feeling of someone gently squeezing his hand, he cracks his eyes open a fraction.

At first, his vision is blurry, so he blinks a few times to try to clear it. It doesn't do much good, but it's better than before. He has to also turn his head a bit, because the thing on his face turns out to be an oxygen mask and it keeps him from seeing whomever it is sitting by his bedside.

It's Jo. He blinks a couple more times, but what he sees doesn't change. It's really her. A bit different than the last time he'd seen her. She's older, for one. Slightly, as if she'd survived that fateful day in Carthage and aged naturally. Her hair is also shorter, even wavier than it'd been when long. The clothes she has on are also unlike her usual attire. More colorful. A flannel shirt with gray and black stripes, together with a moss green jacket and dark blue jeans. Very unusual combination, as she'd preferred muted colors and rarely patterns. Then again, he hadn't been all that familiar with her tastes.

And, of course, she wouldn't be the same, after all that time in Hell. God, if he'd only known… A wave of dizziness overcomes him right then. He struggles to fight it, but loses spectacularly and the darkness reclaims him once more.

The next time Dean wakes up, he does so with a start. He doesn't know what it is that has drawn him back to consciousness, but it sucks. He has to breathe deeply through his nose to quell the nausea that accompanies being awake. When he can do so, he looks to the chair by his bed and finds Sam sitting in it.

His brother doesn't notice that he's conscious, so Dean takes the opportunity to study him. He can see that Sam's eyes are red-rimmed and his hands are bandaged. One side of his face looks irritated slightly, like from a burn. Nothing very serious. And despite otherwise looking alright, Sam seems extremely tired, like he hasn't slept in days. Dean hopes that isn't the case.

He feels a pang of guilt at the fact Sam had gone through the ordeal of thinking he'd lost his brother. For good this time around. Dean wants to say something to soothe Sam, to let him know that everything will be fine. But he's still too weak. Can't open his mouth, no matter how hard he tries. He feels a tear slip out of the corner of his right eye, seconds before he passes out again.

The smell of antiseptic rouses him some time later. Dean doesn't know how long he'd been out for, but he feels more clear-headed and he can open his eyes more easily. He also notices that the oxygen mask is gone now, replaced by a nasal cannula. The machine that'd been beeping all the other times he'd been awake is now quiet.

Movement in his peripheral vision grabs his attention and he effortlessly turns his head to see who it is. It's a dark skinned woman, middle aged, wearing scrubs and a bonnet, who's approaching him with a fresh IV bag. He doesn't know her. Which means he's probably in a hospital. When she sees that he's awake, she smiles.

"Hi, Dean," she says. "Welcome back. I'm Hazel Montgomery. My husband, Alan, found you while on a hunt and brought you to me to fix you up. You're at our place."

So, not a hospital.

"I'm a surgeon, so I've patched up many hunters since marrying Alan, including him and my son, Jim." She pauses and frowns. "Although, none as badly injured as you. For a while, I was afraid I might not even have the right equipment and thought I'd have to get you to the clinic I work at. Honestly, I still can't figure out how that rebar managed to miss most of the important bits."

Lady, you have no idea, Dean thinks. He decides to keep quiet about his miraculous survival, for now. This Hazel may be married to a hunter, but not all hunters are friendly. Not all of them would be understanding of the situation. He doesn't know these people. When the doctor is finished with attaching the IV bag, he decides to try speaking.

"Where…" he says, and has to cough when his throat itches. "Where's… Sam?"

"He's out on the porch with Eileen and Jo," is her answer. "I'll go let him know you're awake as soon as I'm done with the check-up."

"Thanks," he croaks.

So he truly hadn't hallucinated Jo. She's alive. And since Eileen is also here, that means the Montgomerys are trustworthy. They must be her family friends, or maybe Jo's. He relaxes somewhat.

Hazel takes a number of measurements. Blood pressure and pulse, temperature, blood oxygen level and even blood sugar. When she seems satisfied that those are in order, she uses a stethoscope to listen to his heartbeat and breathing. Dean's glad she doesn't make him sit up, though, because he doesn't think he has the energy to do it. Once she's done with the entire procedure, she gives him some water to drink through a straw, then leaves the room to go get Sam.

With only his own thoughts for company, Dean takes a deep breath. He's safe. And so is Sam. Eileen too. Jo is also alive. He still can't believe it. Can't wrap his head around the fact that she's back, living and breathing, flesh and blood. For all of Chuck's efforts to destroy them all, he still lost. They'll probably come across some more of his surprizes in the future, Jack hadn't been sure what kind and how many. But for now, they're safe.

And Jo is alive again. It's been so long since he'd seen her, talked to her. Since the thing with Osiris. He'd thought about her often, even before that incident. And especially after.

Just a few weeks ago, he'd watched Sam and Eileen bicker about something, the conversation carried out more in sign than spoken words. Something trivial, like pineapple on pizza. He'd been hit with such a longing to have something like that himself, that it'd almost physically hurt. He'd given up the hope of ever having a family. A wife and children, that'll never be possible for him. Not after all the crap Chuck's put him through.

And most days, he's happy with just Sam by his side. But Sam also deserves a family of his own. And Dean's happy that things have worked out with Eileen, despite what Chuck had done to them. Because he really likes Eileen. She makes his brother happy. Understands him like few women ever could, or would. She's a hunter. They're on equal footing.

Dean wishes he could have had something like that. He knows none of the women he'd been involved with, over the years, would have been a good fit for the kind of life he leads. And ever since the major disaster with Lisa, he'd been leery to try again. No way was he going to drag another civilian into this shit-show. But also, he doesn't know anyone who would want to get involved with him. Anyone in their right mind would run for the hills after getting to know him. Besides, all the women he's close to are either way too young, mother or sister figures, or not his type and better off as friends. They're good friends and he wants to keep it that way.

Every time he'd thought about what it'd be like to have a partner like Sam has now, in Eileen, his mind had strayed to Jo. Throughout the years, he'd tried to make peace with the fact that he'd never had a chance with her. He'd blown the very last one and then he'd gotten her killed. And even though she'd been gone for over a decade, he still remembers the taste and feel of that bittersweet kiss. In the time since, he'd often thought about what it would have been like, if he'd just picked up his damned phone and given her a call, like he'd promised to do. But he'd been so scared of repeating history, his father's mistakes, that he'd chickened out every time he'd attempted to contact her. And then, every time he'd wonder what it would've been like, he'd have to push those musings deep into the back of his mind. Because it would've only ended up hurting more, dwelling on the what ifs.

There's nothing he can do to change what's already past. It's just regret after regret after regret, all chasing each other in a damn circle and getting nowhere. The here and now is what's important. He'll apologize to Jo for what happened. See if she still wants to be friends, at least. It doesn't really matter, he'll take what she's willing to offer. And if she never wants to see him again, he will respect her wishes. Regardless of how much it will hurt.

Dean swallows around the knot that seems to have formed in his throat. He wishes he'd asked Hazel to give him some more water before she'd left. He's so damn thirsty. And hungry. Being injured sucks big time. He sighs, all of a sudden feeling frustrated. He tries running a hand over his face, but his fingers snag on the tube attached to his head. The action nearly pulls his ears off.

As Dean struggles to put the nasal cannula back in its place, the sound of a soft snort of laughter reaches him from the direction of the entrance. Turning his gaze that way, he's met with Eileen's wide grin. He smiles back weakly. Then, his throat constricts and he can't breathe for a few seconds, when Jo appears from behind the other woman.

"Hey," she says, approaching his bed like a skittish cat.

"Hi," he manages to respond, all raspy sounding.

Jo stops by his side, her own smile slightly teary. She extends trembling hands and fixes the mess he's made of the breathing tube.

"Thanks," he says.

He doesn't have time to add anything more, because Sam shows up that very instant. Jo steps aside to let them have space and Sam comes closer, for some reason shuffling his feet and wringing his hands. His eyes dart about the place, flitting from Dean to various things in the room, and then back. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, as if searching for the right words to use.

"Dean," he begins.

"I'm okay, Sammy," Dean murmurs.

He knows what's wrong. Sam feels guilty. He looks marginally better than the last time Dean had been conscious. The burn on his face looks less irritated and the bandages on his hands aren't as thick. But Dean's still worried. Because Sam appears to be seconds away from breaking.

"I'm so sorry," Sam says, voice choked. "I thought…"

"I was," Dean says, not letting Sam finish that sentence. "Jo, can you please close the door?"

Jo nods and does so. Both she and Eileen, who'd realized that the conversation had gotten very serious, come closer to the bed.

"What do you mean?" Sam asks. "Hazel said you went into a state of shock and it only looked like you were dead. But you weren't. I left you there and…"

"No, Sam," Dean cuts him off again. "I was very much dead. Jack found out that Chuck set this whole thing up before he was depowered, to make sure he got his way. The kid decided to give me the choice on how to go on."

"You chose to come back?" Jo asks. "He did the same with me."

"I know." Dean sighs. "He couldn't completely heal me, because he was afraid that would cause the effects of Chuck's meddling to reattach onto me. He called it a thread of fate. So he found a compromise."

"You get to live," Eileen says, "but have to heal the old fashioned way."

"Exactly." He reaches out and grabs one of Sam's hands in his, careful not to hurt him. "You didn't leave me for dead. I really was. Tessa returned my soul to my body after you'd left."

"And then, we found you," Jo says.

"Yeah. Thanks for saving my ass, by the way."

"You're welcome."

Jo's impish smile, along with her sassy quip, make Dean grin. He'd missed her smart ass attitude so much. Sam, on the other hand, frowns as he studies their back and forth.

"You don't seem surprized that Jo's alive," he says. "How'd you know?"

"Jack told me," Dean says. "We had a nice, long chat." He sobers up and looks Jo in the eyes. "He also told me where he found you. Jo, I'm…"

"Don't you dare say it, Dean!" It's his turn to snap his mouth shut. "You couldn't have known. It's why I didn't say anything about it when we last saw each other. Like I told Sam, don't feel like that was your responsibility."

"But…"

"No. That was Chuck's doing. Not your fault. End of story."

"You know," Eileen interrupts, drawing their attention from the current discussion, "we should call ourselves the Been to Hell Club." She makes air quotes. "Since all four of us have been there at one point or another."

"Great idea," Jo says. "Oh, I have another one. How about To Hell and Back Club?"

"Sounds catchier," Eileen replies. "I like it more."

Just like that, the somber mood is lightened. They talk about other things, for a while. Dean finds out that Jody had also been there, but she'd left a couple of days ago. She'd promised to pick up Miracle from the doggie daycare and take him home with her, for which Dean is very grateful. Apparently, he'd been out of commission for almost a week.

Soon, he starts feeling sluggish. After all the excitement, it's hard to concentrate and his vision goes blurry on several occasions. He doesn't say anything, not wanting to worry the others. Sneaky though he thinks he is, Jo does notice.

"You okay?" she asks him in a low voice.

"Just a bit tired."

"Right." She picks up a small, gray, corded thing that looks like a miniature remote control and presses the button on it. "If you're willing to admit that, then it means it's time to rest."

A moment later, there's a soft knock at the door, after which it opens. Hazel steps in, carrying a small tray with a syringe on it. There's a clear liquid inside and Dean finds himself wondering what it is. He's been ignoring the ache in his back and chest that's been bothering him for some time now. But he'd feel weird asking her for pain relief.

"Alright," Hazel says. "I think it's time to give Dean a break for a while."

He wants to protest but, once again, Jo expects his reaction and gives him a stern look. He shuts his mouth. No use in arguing when he can't even sit up in bed without help. Although patience has never been his strong suit in situations like this, he has no choice but to try.

"Yes, ma'am," Sam says, after Eileen elbows him in the side. "We'll be back later."

Dean suppresses a smirk. He knows his brother had been inclined to put up a fight, but Eileen had nipped that in the bud. It's good that Sam has the sense to listen to her.

"See you later," Eileen says, taking Sam's hand and leading him out the door.

"I got this," Jo says to Hazel.

The doctor had just finished checking his vitals. She hums and hands Jo a pair of latex gloves from a side table, then promises to be back some time later to give him some more fluids. Dean glances down at his arm and notices that the bag is no longer attached to him. Only the IV cannula remains. He hadn't even been aware of its removal.

"Wait, you're gonna do what now?" he asks, as he processes Jo's statement.

"I'm gonna stick this," Jo indicates the syringe she's holding, "into that tube over there," she points to the cannula. "Not the first time I've done it."

"When did you learn to do that?"

He hadn't known that Jo had had medical training. When she'd patched him up in Duluth, years ago, he'd just assumed Ellen or another hunter had taught her. He hadn't even given it a second thought. It's the kind of thing one has to get used to doing in their line of work. You either fix yourself up, or you get dead.

"What did you think I studied when I went to college?" Jo, for some reason, sounds indignant. "Because it sure as hell wasn't home economics, or any crap like that."

"Medical school. Huh."

"Don't sound so surprized," she says. "Mom wanted me to go, so I picked something I thought would be useful for a hunter to know."

"Smart choice."

"I know, right?"

With gentle hands, Jo inserts the syringe into the IV cannula and slowly pushes the plunger down. Relief soon follows, as the substance injected into his bloodstream takes effect. And it's, apparently, the good stuff. Hospital grade.

"Thanks, nurse Jo," he says.

He already feels drowsy. Whatever that drug is, it's strong. As it becomes too difficult to keep his eyes open, Dean grins. It's probably lopsided and loopy looking, but he's high enough to not care. Jo laughs and pats his hand.

"Get some sleep, Dean," she says.

He closes his eyes. The last thought that crosses his mind—just before he drifts off—is that, maybe now, they have a real chance at free will.

"I will kill him." Sam mutters, once he's out of Dean's room. When Eileen gives him a confused look, he clarifies. "Chuck. I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"Will that change what happened?"

"No, but it'll make me feel better."

It makes his blood boil, thinking that Chuck could have still gotten his ending, in a way. Even if it wasn't exactly the one he'd wanted. If Jack hadn't stepped in, both with Jo and Dean, things would have gone a whole lot different. Sam doesn't even want to consider the alternative. It would have been a bleak life without his brother in it. And Jo would have been stuck in Hell for who knows how much longer.

Eileen tugs on his hand and he follows her directions. They end up back on the porch. He sits down on one of the recliners and pulls Eileen along with him, so she sits astride his knees. Hugging her tight, Sam presses his face into the side of her neck and takes a shaky breath. He needs to sort out the turmoil of thoughts currently raging in his mind, to calm down somehow. It's been a very stressful week and he hasn't gotten much sleep during the time elapsed. Eileen runs her hands up and down his back, which helps unwind some of the tension in his muscles.

"I hate this too," she says, then pulls back a little so she can look at him. "I wanted to throttle the bastard, when I realized that this was probably his doing. But that won't undo what he's done."

"I know." He sighs. "It's just… too much, you know? We thought it was over. And then, the rug got pulled from under us. And at first, I thought it was just bad luck, that Dean… that he died. But to find out now that Chuck's responsible for it, it makes me so damn angry."

"Me too," Eileen says. "I had a hunch that this wasn't simply happenstance. Wish I'd been wrong."

"You think…" He stops, even thinking about it makes his skin crawl. "What if this isn't the only thing he did? You reckon he put other things in motion, further in the future?"

"I don't know. Maybe. There's no way to be certain until it happens."

And isn't that a terrifying thought. That someday soon, another one of Chuck's surprizes might jump out at them with no warning. They'll have no way to stop it, or avoid it. This is one of the few times in the past decade when he wishes he still had those psychic powers Azazel's demon blood had granted him. But they probably wouldn't help much. Patience's natural abilities hadn't warned her until it'd been too late. She'd had her vision right around the time Dean gave his last breath.

Eileen takes his left hand in hers and kisses his bandaged fingers one by one. She smiles, bittersweet.

"We'll deal with whatever comes our way together. And I'll be by your side, always."

"I'm so sorry," he says.

He looks away for a second, then fixes his gaze on his hand, which is still in hers. A stark reminder of what he'd almost done.

"What for, Sam?" she asks him.

There's a crease between her brows when Sam glances back at her. Of course she doesn't know what he's apologizing for. She can't read his mind.

"For almost leaving you," Sam says. "When I got back there, and saw the barn was on fire, I tried to get in. But the flames were too strong." He swallows, throat suddenly feeling tight. "For a moment, I contemplated just walking in there. Giving up. Dean was gone and… I had this strong urge to just follow him to the other side."

"But you didn't."

"No. I'd promised him I'd keep on fighting. And… I didn't want to leave you behind. It wouldn't have been fair."

"Thank you for telling me."

She doesn't sound taken aback that he'd considered death in a moment of desperation. He's probably not the only hunter who's done so. Hopefully, he'll never again be in such a position.

"Thank you for understanding," he says.

It feels better to have talked about it. It's been eating at him since finding out Dean's alive. He hates it, that he'd been driven to that. That he'd been so weak to even think about it.

"It wasn't a weakness, Sam," Eileen says, startling him out of his thoughts. "It took a lot of strength not to do it. Never forget that."

Sam's starting to reconsider whether his girlfriend might be able to perceive thoughts. It's uncanny, sometimes, how well she can read him.

"How did you know that was what I was thinking?"

"You have a certain look on your face," she says. "An expression you get, when you're feeling guilty about something. So, lucky guess."

What would he do without this woman? In the back of his mind, he hears Jess' words to him, so long ago. Crash and burn. It seems that still holds true, many years later.

The one good thing to come out of the shit-show that'd been Chuck's manipulation is his relationship with Eileen. Chuck had just pushed them together, but the spark had already been there long before. In the end, he'd just fanned the flames. If Sam ever comes across that asshole again, he'll make sure to rub it in the former God's face. You tried to use us, and then destroy us. But all you ended up doing was bring us closer together.

"You know," Sam says, eventually, "I hope Chuck has a long and healthy life. A human life, since he was so keen on tossing us away like we were nothing. I want him to suffer the very existence he disparaged and tried to wipe out."

"You're right," Eileen says, a downright wicked looking grin blooming on her face. Her eyes twinkle with excitement. "To him, that's the worst kind of punishment. He'd hate it so much."

"It'll drive him nuts."

"Oh, you know what he'd hate more?"

She gives an enthusiastic little jump and starts signing along with her words. Sam's happy that their talk went in a different direction. He loves seeing her like this.

"What?" he replies, egging her on.

"Being surrounded by people, no matter where he goes," she answers. "People being friendly to him, even helpful. Strangers chatting him up when he doesn't want company. Not getting a lot of time alone to think."

"Not only becoming what he hates, but also being surrounded by it." Sam smirks, the idea pleasing him.

"Exactly." Eileen frowns briefly, as another thought seems to occur to her. "Except for when he really needs it. Then I want him to be all alone. Like mankind was when they needed him and he was nowhere to be found, because he couldn't be bothered."

"Sounds fitting."

An idea forms in his mind, but he doesn't say anything. He's very careful not to let it show on his face. Sam's not sure about it yet and doesn't want to clue Eileen in on it until he's confident it'll work. He'll look into it first. Only when he's certain—one hundred percent—will he tell her about it.

Soon, he changes the subject. They spend the rest of the afternoon chatting about a lot of other stuff, including making a few plans on how to help Dean in his recovery. Hazel had hinted that it would be a difficult one. And Sam wants to be by his brother's side, someone to lean on—both physically and emotionally—when things get tough.

They'll make a good team, all of them together. Eileen even suggests they ask Jo to join them when it's safe for Dean to travel, which makes Sam very happy. They'd talked about her just a few weeks ago. Sam can't believe they've gotten one of their dearest friends back. Another miscalculation on Chuck's part. Add one more member to their team, and they'll become a force to be reckoned with.

Sam's still working on building a collaborative network of hunters. If some of the ones Jo and Ellen used to know are alive, it'll be easier. Some of the Apocalypse world refugees are in contact with him even now. They've got nowhere else to go, ever since their world had been destroyed. There aren't many of them left, considering Michael killed quite a lot of them, but the survivors trust Sam nonetheless.

He knows it's impossible to get rid of all the ghosts and monsters and demons, like his mom had wished—or like the British Men of Letters had wanted—but they can try to thin the herd a little. If he can find the other Men of Letters chapter houses and bunkers, and make them safe for the hunters to use, it'll be much easier to build that network. And if they make the world a safer place, they can someday retire. Build a family. Hunt less often and, in the future, act as advisers to younger hunters. Leave a legacy behind that doesn't end in blood and tears.

But before any of that can become a reality, Sam has to find out what else Chuck's cooked up for them. He needs to be ready for anything. Chuck can't win. He realizes that they'd been playing checkers—and thinking otherwise—when, in reality, they've been standing in the middle of a convoluted chess game. And God himself had rigged it to have his stratagem planned ten steps ahead, while they'd always been ten behind. This time, more than ever, Sam is determined to beat the odds. Even if his only weapons are his skills, wit and power of will, he has those in spades. So do the others. They'll fight tooth and nail.

Game on. This is only the first move.

TW/CW: In the last third, in Sam's perspective, there's a discussion of thoughts of suicide on his part. Nothing over the top, just him talking about it.