Strangers and Angels

Part 3

xxxx

It was 5:30 in the morning, and Jo had just finished wiping down the diner counter in anticipation of the breakfast crowd. Her first group of regulars had trickled in, sliding into their regular booth, anticipating their regular breakfasts.

In spite of the early hour, Jo loved this time of the day.

"Jo, you want me to start the coffee?" Marty wandered around the counter, already reaching for the filters.

Marty, Billy and Phil had been part of her morning routine since she had bought this place ten years before. Ranchers in their late 60s at the time, they'd shown up on opening day and hadn't missed a morning since. They talked horses and politics and theology and weather and, for the last couple of years, Lost. If they hadn't all been married to their high school sweethearts for the last 50 years, she'd've married any of them in a second.

"Thanks, Mart," she called.

When the door opened, Jo was surprised to see one of her late arrivals walk in as one of her first customers.

"Mornin'," she said.

Hands jammed in his pockets, Dean Winchester moved slowly into the diner. He gave her a brief head jerk of acknowledgment. "Mornin'."

He climbed onto one of the stools at the counter. Jo handed him a menu and went to check on the coffee.

"Are you waiting for Sam?"

Dean turned from the menu, twisting slightly to peer over his shoulder out the large picture window toward the parking lot, evidently looking for his brother. He shrugged.

"Not this morning, I guess."

She nodded, pouring him a cup. "Know what you want?" He was scanning the menu.

"Eggs over easy, bacon, hash browns. Ooo, grits."

Jo laughed. "Comin' up."

She put in the order and walked around the counter, headed for the old men. On Thursday mornings she loved to eavesdrop on their dissection of the previous evening's episode of Lost. Phil had actually learned how to use his computer for something other than Minesweeper and bookkeeping in pursuit of his obsession. He found the craziest things.

"So that x-ray of the Italian guy's back? Dated November 2005." He sat back, satisfied by the looks on his buddies' faces.

"What?" Billy exchanged a look with Marty. "That can't be right. When did they crash?"

"It's a screw up, Billy. Phil, stop jerkin' his chain. Some gopher grabbed a random x-ray and stuck it up there." He blew an exasperated breath out of his nose. "Like any of those bozos are payin' attention to that kind of stuff." Marty didn't believe anyone in television had a brain or a plan. He liked the show, but he was deeply skeptical.

Jo refilled their cups, lingering long enough to look at the screen cap that Phil had printed. She shook her head. She'd been lucky to keep her eyes open long enough to watch her tape. She left them bickering over continuity and the religious implications of the Virgin Mary statues they'd seen in the previews.

Jo found herself keeping an eye on Dean as she served people and bussed tables. He ate slowly, but steadily, seeming engrossed in the local paper he'd bought. His body language told her he was still tired, but his eyes when he'd come in had been clearer than the night before.

Close to 6:15, traffic slowed and she moved back to the counter, refilling Dean's coffee, and fussing with little things that needed to be done.

He'd finished his breakfast and had managed to find a pencil. Head propped in one hand, he was studying the crossword puzzle.

"Any luck?" She angled her chin at the paper.

"Nah. I hate these things." He slapped the pencil back on the counter and folded up the paper.

"Me, too." Jo shook her head. "But I still feel compelled to try every now and again."

"Yeah."

He stayed seated, head turned, watching the room.

"You're up early." Jo pulled a funnel and a large container of salt out from under the counter and started to refill salt shakers. "I hope the bed wasn't uncomfortable." She intentionally phrased her comment so that he'd think she was concerned about business and not him. Eyes on her task, she let the observation hang.

"Actually, the bed was great. I slept like a rock." His voice was polite, but it was truthful as well. "Sam's usually up early, and I guess my internal clock's adjusted to his."

She smiled, carefully moving the funnel from one shaker to the next. She still didn't look at him, but she said ruefully, "And now he's sleeping in."

He was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "I don't think he's slept this much in three nights combined the last couple of weeks."

Jo could hear the concern in his voice, and she risked a glance in his direction. He was looking back out the window.

"Sounds like y'all have had a rough time." Casual.

He shrugged, eyes still watching for Sam, and he sighed. "Sam's girlfriend was killed a few months ago, and he has these nightmares about it. And then when I got sick a couple of weeks back, it's like it made everything 10 times worse, because he's worried about losing me now, too, so I think he's sleeping even less, and…"

Dean's head came around and, unexpectedly, his eyes met Jo's. Neither was prepared for the contact, and for just a moment she caught a glimpse of the exhaustion and the pain and the confusion that she'd sensed haunted this young man from the moment he'd walked through her door. And just as soon as she'd seen it, it was gone, the shutters over his eyes slammed shut and the ramble abruptly stilled.

They looked at each other in silence, stunned. Jo wasn't sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn't the grin he shot her. He had a smile that transformed him—full of charm and confidence and beauty—and it almost staggered her in its sadness.

"So, if he wants to play princess for a day, I guess I'll let him." He looked down for an instant and then back at her, eyes bright, smiling, flirtatious. "Hey, I'd love a refill." He waggled his coffee cup hopefully.

Jo faltered just for a moment and then responded the way she knew he wanted her to because she sensed, if she pushed, he'd be gone for good. So she smiled, her own flirty, maternal, waitress grin. "Coming right up."

Jo left him alone after that, giving him space, working steadily as the diner filled up and it became clear that her help was not coming in.

"Hello?" Jo grabbed the phone, wincing as she noisily dumped a load of dirty dishes in a tub. "Carol Anne? Where are you?" She did not have time for this. "You're where?"

On the other end of the line, hundreds of miles away, her morning waitress gave her notice, an hour and a half into her shift.

"Well, I wish you and Vic every happiness." She snarled it into the phone before she slammed the receiver down.

She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Count to 10. Count to 10.

"Trouble, honey?" Marty was paying the tab this week, and he was watching her with some concern.

"Carol Anne's eloped with Vic Jones."

Marty whistled. "Mabel Jones is not going to be happy about that."

Jo glared at him.

"Which is neither here nor there, since she's left you high and dry for the morning," he amended hastily.

Jo continued to stare at him balefully.

"And the rest of the week and the weekend." Marty shook his head, finally recognizing the ramifications of the defection, genuinely sympathetic. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Jo sighed, all the plans she'd had for the weekend suddenly overturned. "Well, we'll make due." There were times when she hated this place.

"Can I help?"

Jo turned, surprised to see Dean watching the exchange.

"I've waited tables before, and I don't have anything to do until Sam's up anyway." He shrugged. "You helped us out a lot last night. I wouldn't mind returning the favor."

Everything in her said no. Her sense of pride and her sense of hospitality and … well, mostly it was her pride. She hated needing help, but she knew she did.

Swallowing hard, she said, "Are you sure? Because there's no need to return any favor…"

Dean stood, stuffing the newspaper into one of the pockets of his jacket before he shrugged if off.

"Tell me how it works around here."

xxxx

Jo gave him the basics and put him to work. He was good. Better than Carol Anne. It wasn't long before she wasn't even watching him any more, just responding to questions he had about where things went and how to do certain things.

She was ringing up a couple of truckers, with Dean wiping down stations at the counter, when Michael came in. He grabbed an apron, tying it on. He looked at Dean with curiosity.

"Carol Anne quit," Jo told him.

"She run off with Vic?" Michael asked. Jo rolled her eyes, handing the truckers their change.

"A little warning next time, please," she said tartly. "Where's my morning sugar?"

Now Michael rolled his eyes, looking a little self-consciously at Dean just a few feet away, but coming over to hug and kiss his aunt.

She smiled. He was so easy.

As she hugged him, she said, "You did a good job cleaning up the entry last night. Thank you." She pulled back, but still held on. "And you and Jacob did a good job with 11 last night, too." She looked at him quizzically. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" Although she suspected she knew.

He frowned slightly, stepping away. "He just has to make things hard, you know? And I wasn't in the mood to sweet talk him into doing everything he knew he was supposed to be doing, so…"

So Michael had ordered instead of asked, and Jacob had whined and complained and dragged his feet and that was that.

Jo saw Dean smirking understandingly at her oldest nephew and shook her head. "You were both tired last night and it sounds to me like neither of you made good choices about how you responded to each other." She couldn't see her nephew's face, but she'd lay money that he was grimacing at Dean. "Will you please find one positive thing to say to your brother about how he did last night? I know it doesn't feel like it all the time, but a praise from you really goes a long way with him. I'll talk to him about the rest."

"Yeah, OK."

"Thank you." She handed him an empty gray tub.

"Mornin', Jo. Michael."

"Hey, Luke."

The sheriff hitched onto a seat at the counter, cocking an eyebrow at Dean who came over to pour his coffee. "Carol Anne, have you done something different with your hair?"

Michael guffawed out loud, grinning appreciatively at the sheriff before he wandered off to bus tables. Jo felt her heart tighten a little when Luke smiled, eyes alight when they met Jo's, clearly thrilled that he'd made the boy laugh.

Dean slapped a menu down in front of him and stalked off.

"What's all this then?" He handed the menu back to Jo, who'd placed his order 10 minutes earlier. She pulled his plate off the pass-through, and told him the morning drama as he ate.

"Good lord, that girl," was his only comment. They sat in silence for a minute.

"So. You determined to keep the two pups that showed up on your doorstep last night?" He took a bite of bacon, watching her.

She smiled at him sadly, leaning over with her elbows on the counter. "I don't know, Luke. They're just both so … worn, I guess." Her eyes tracked Dean across the room. "They're awful young to be so tired."

He nodded his understanding, but couldn't keep back the warning. "Be careful, Josie, is all I'm saying. These two aren't the little slips of girls you usually rescue. They're grown men – young I'll grant you, but…" He studied her seriously. "I worry is all."

"I know you do. And I appreciate it." She watched Dean joking with Michael, and she turned back to Luke. "I'm usually a pretty good judge of people – Carol Anne aside – and I just feel good about these boys."

"You have a gift, and you know it," he said. "I can't help worrying, though, that you'll be wrong one time, and if these two are dangerous…"

"They're not dangerous,' she said.

Now she smiled.

"If anything, these two boys are going to be a lot less dangerous to the raging hormones in my household than Carol Anne was. I was afraid I was going to have to lock the knives up to keep Michael and Jake from killing each other over her before Michael figured out what a flake she was."

Luke laughed out loud. "That Michael's got a good head on his shoulders."

Jo could only agree.

Suddenly, Luke snorted, blowing coffee out of his nose. Jo turned to him in surprise as he wiped his face and the front of his uniform. He jerked his head toward the back of the diner, a grin splitting his face.

"They may be dangerous to the female population in the area, though."

Jo followed his eyes and saw Dean engaged in conversation with Sally Cummings, one of Michael's classmates. The 17-year-old girl was giggling, eyes capturing those of the man in front of her. She reached out, putting her palm on the Dean's chest, pushing slightly. Dean rocked back, grinning, arms spread, coffee pot precariously held in his hand. His head dipped forward as he responded, and Sally's laughter rippled across the room.

Heads turned at the sound, and Dean's own head came up. His eyes came to Jo's and she saw that he was suddenly self-conscious, taking a step back from the girl in front of him. Sally followed him, still smiling flirtatiously. Jo raised an eyebrow at Dean, and he took another step away, saying something low that stopped the girl in her tracks. The charming grin on his face seemed to have softened whatever he'd said, and he sauntered off, Sally watching him go, a wistful look on her face.

Jo returned her attention to Luke. "I think my after-school business is about to skyrocket," she told him dryly.

Luke took a sip of his coffee. "Figure out a way to work his brother into the schedule, and you'll have females coming in from three counties over."

xxxx

"You ready to stop?"

Dean was unloading a tub of dirty dishes, and he looked up with relief.

"A break? Yeah." He put the last plate into the dishwasher and rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks. "How long to I get?"

She laughed. "Honey, take the rest of the day. Seriously. Things are slow and you've saved my life. I can handle it from here."

Dean looked at her doubtfully. "You've got help for lunch?"

"Lunch is never as busy as breakfast," she hedged.

Dean pulled off his apron. "I'll check on Sam and be back in time for lunch."

She considered him thoughtfully. "Thank you."

xxxx

"Still asleep?"

She asked it when Dean returned. He hadn't been gone long, and he looked pensive.

"Yeah." He picked up the apron from where he'd dropped it, fumbling somewhat as he tied it around his waist again.

She was wary of overstepping again, but couldn't help trying to reassure him.

"It sounds like he needs it," she offered.

"Yeah." Dean was standing still, absently threading one of the dishrags through his fingers.

"I'm sure he's just catching up,' she said gently.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah."

Abruptly he shook his head, breaking out of whatever thoughts had distracted him. He smiled, trying for the cocky grin he'd used on her earlier, but not quite getting it.

"So." He was clear again. "What's going on with those two rooms between me and Sam and the diner?" Deflecting.

Jo allowed herself to be distracted.

"We've been refurbishing rooms over the last year or so. I got over-ambitious around Christmas, thinking we'd be slow enough that we could get a couple of rooms done at once." She shook her head ruefully. "I should have known better. We'd just started stripping wallpaper when we had a hard freeze that busted pipes in three rooms." Dean winced sympathetically. "And then all four of us got sick and it was all I could do to get up in the morning and keep the boys hydrated, nevermind trying to get those rooms operational."

She looked out the pass-through window, waving at someone who'd come in. Grabbing menus, she finished, "By the time we were all well, business had picked up again."

Dean followed her out the swinging door, and Jo made her way to the booth with the new people. She handed them their menus, took their drink orders and went back to the counter. Dean helped her pour coffee and water.

"Have you gotten anything done on the rooms since then?"

Jo was surprised. "Nope," she said matter-of-factly, loading a tray. "Spring break maybe with the boys," she smiled and shrugged. "It'll get done."

xxxx