Strangers and Angels

Part 5

xxxx

They spent almost an hour in the two rooms, Jo explaining what she'd hoped to accomplish and Dean making notes, both mental and written. There were some things he knew he'd need to get back with her on later—some specifics on replacing fixtures and carpet and colors. But he felt like he had enough to get a good start. Right now it was mostly ripping stuff out. Cool.

Dean decided to start with the room closest to the diner. It seemed to be the furthest along, so he made a list of things to get done and got to work. The wallpaper was ancient and a bitch to take off. It was frustrating, dirty work. Close to noon, he brushed off the worst of the dust and wallpaper pieces and walked down to the diner.

Dean chose a booth over the counter, and Sam joined him, yawning through his burger and fries.

"How'd you sleep last night?"

"Fine," Sam said, taking a long gulp of his Coke.

"Yeah?" Dean eyed him.

"Yeah." Now it was Sam's turn. "You?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Good."

"Good."

A comfortable silence.

"Which room are you working on?"

"Thirteen. They'd gotten more of the wallpaper stripped in that one. I figure we can pull everything out that needs to come out, and then work on building it back up."

Sam nodded. "Makes sense."

"I thought so."

Sam grinned at him.

"How're the tips?"

"Pretty good." Sam glanced around the room. "I better get back, though." He climbed out at the booth.

"O.K."

"I'll come help when I'm done here.

"Yeah, you will," Dean gruffed.

Sam flicked Dean's ear as he went by.

"Ouch," Dean complained absently, rubbing it.

"See you in awhile."

"Yeah."

xxxx

The work went faster with Sam that afternoon. There were times when having a brother who was a giant was really handy. All Sam needed was a box to reach the top of the wall, so Dean put him to work pulling paper out of the nooks and crannies around the ceiling. Sam was muttering steadily under his breath as he worked. Dean hummed contentedly where he sat on the floor.

"Hey!"

The door ricocheted off the wall as Tommy entered. Sam teetered on his box—the noise and the impact itself almost knocking him off balance. Dean jumped, too, and he realized he'd heard the bus 15 or 20 minutes before.

"Hey," Dean responded. Sam steadied himself against the wall.

Jacob came in behind his younger brother. He sent Dean a small smile. "Hey." Dean nodded at him.

"What are you boys up to this afternoon?"

Dean asked it off-handedly, turning back to the strip of wallpaper in front of him that had fused itself to the sheetrock. He started to curse, but was suddenly aware of Tommy standing right behind him, watching closely. Rassa-frassa…

"Nothin'" was the reply.

"You wanna help?"

Dean heard Jacob's snort. Yeah, right.

"Sure!" Tommy crouched down next to Dean. "Can I do that?"

Dean considered. He wasn't sure about giving a small boy a putty knife and asking him to remove wallpaper. The kid was liable to remove chunks of the wall as well.

Sam was looking down at scene from his perch high above it all. Dean squinted up at him.

"Closet?" Sam asked.

"Closet," said Dean. He turned back to Tommy. "Have I got the job for you."

Climbing to his feet, Dean grabbed a piece of sandpaper and, as an afterthought, a mask. He opened the door to the closet. It hadn't ever been painted, and the walls were dirty-looking and rough.

"I need you to sand down the walls in here. Get 'em smooth. Then you can paint it." Jacob, despite his disinterest, had joined them and he looked at Dean doubtfully. "The closet?"

"Sure. Closets are an important feature in a hotel room. A closet should be clean looking so people feel comfortable putting their clothes in it. Makes it feel homey." He was totally blowing smoke. But it sounded plausible.

Tommy took the sandpaper out of his hand. "Cool!" Dean pulled the mask over the boy's head, tightening the rubber bands that would hold it to his face. The cup was big enough that it almost obscured the kid's vision, but eventually Dean got it to a place that seemed workable. Tommy plopped onto the floor of the closet and began to scrub the wall vigorously.

Dean put a hand on his head. "Remember, you want to get the whole wall smooth, right? Don't rub a hole in one spot." The head nodded and the area being sanded expanded. "Good." He watched Tommy work for a brief moment and then returned to his own spot on the floor.

Jacob watched Tommy, too, and then wandered around the room, picking things up and putting them down. Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Ultimately, Jake pulled a piece of sandpaper off the stack and re-joined Tommy in the closet. Sam bit his lip when he met Dean's eyes, and they both shook their heads.

The work continued for awhile, Dean catching snippets of conversation between the two boys ensconced in the closet—Jake responding to Tommy's comments and questions with good-humored patience. Dean asked about the diner shift, and Sam filled him in on the scoop and the dirt of the lives of the people he'd waited on that day.

When the door opened again, it was Michael, looking for Jacob.

"Mom wants you," he said coolly.

Tommy, from the closet, watched his brothers.

Jacob stood. "'kay."

Michael ignored his younger brother as Jake moved to the door, and Dean saw Jake's eyes follow Michael a little forlornly, as he walked past.

"What are you doing?" Michael addressed the question to Tommy. When the door shut behind Jake, Michael's head turned toward it slightly, but quickly returned his attention to his youngest brother.

"Did you get grounded?" Tommy asked quietly.

"Yeah."

"Why does Aunt Jo want Jakey? Is he in trouble, too?"

Michael lifted a shoulder to indicate his indifference. "Why are you sanding the closet?"

Easily distracted, Tommy parroted back Dean's reasoning for painted closets, and Michael seemed to accept this. He picked up Jacob's discarded piece of sandpaper and joined his brother.

"Oh." Michael raised his voice to be heard outside of the closet. "Aunt Jo said to tell y'all that dinner's at 6 and if you need laundry done, bring it."

Dean looked at Sam, who pulled a I don't know; what do you think? face at his brother.

"I thought we would just eat in the diner."

"Aunt Jo said to tell you that 'board' means dinner with the family. And laundry."

Dean wasn't comfortable with that last part.

"She doesn't…"

"She also said if you didn't want her to do your laundry, you'll still need a lesson on how to use the machines. They're particular."

There didn't seem to be anything else to say.

xxxx

The boys had gotten bored around 4:00, but Sam and Dean had worked until a little after 5, when they'd put things away and headed back to the room to clean up for dinner.

Although Dean probably wouldn't have admitted it to Sam, it was a comfortable feeling to walk through the diner and into the family kitchen. He swung the door open, Sam on his heels, carrying a duffel full of dirty clothes. The smells of lasagna and bread had been masked by the odors from the diner, but they hit him now, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. He heard Sam's belly respond similarly.

"Wow. It smells great!" Sam beat him to it, but Dean nodded his agreement.

"Thank you," Jo smiled. "Did you bring your laundry?"

"Yeah, but you don't need …"

She laughed, holding up both hands. "You won't get an argument from me! But I need to give you a lesson on how to work the machines. They're old and kind of cranky." She walked them through the process, and Sam, who always paid more attention to the details, nodded along with all the instructions. Dean listened as attentively as he could, but he knew from long experience that it would be Sam who would remember it all. They put a load in the second washer, the first already humming away.

"Here are your clothes from the other night," Jo said. "I guess y'all don't have a laundry basket, do you?" Both boys shook their heads. She pulled out an extra and dropped the small stack of their belongings into it. "You can use this one while you're here."

"Thanks."

They sat down at the table, two large casserole dishes on potholders, a loaf of bread, cut and buttered, a bowl of salad, milk. Dean didn't know how long it had been since he and Sam had eaten like this. Years. For him, at least. He realized suddenly that Sam might have had some of this with Jessica, and he felt a brief, sharp ache in his chest for his brother. But Sam was grinning next to him, eyes wide. Like he couldn't believe it.

"Shall I bless it?" Jo reached out her hands to the boys next to her, and on Dean's right Tommy's palm was turned up to him. Startled, Dean looked at Sam, who had, without hesitation, extended his hand to Dean on one side and Michael on the other. Slowly, Dean took Tommy's small hand in his, and with a slight narrowing of his eyes at his brother, grasped Sam's as well.

Heads bowed, and Dean followed suit. He'd never felt comfortable closing his eyes around people he didn't really know, so he kept his open slightly, watching the people around him through his lashes.

"Heavenly Father…"

Jo's eyes, unsurprisingly were closed, face still as she prayed. Sam's eyes were shut, too, and Tommy's, although the swinging foot under the table seemed to indicate he might not be paying very close attention.

"…and thank You for Sam and Dean and their new friendship…"

Dean's eyes swung back to Jo, but not before he caught Jacob's stare from across the table. The eyes snapped shut. Dean raised an eyebrow in amusement, and then looked over at Michael, who was watching him, too. Michael rolled his eyes and smiled before he ducked his head down again.

"Amen."

There was a chorus of "amens" from around the table, and Dean felt Tommy's hand tighten on his briefly. He squeezed back reflexively, and dropped Sam's hand unceremoniously.

Dinner was a chatty, relaxed time. Given the tension between Michael and Jacob, Dean had expected silence and resentment, but whatever "talk" Jo had had with the boys seemed to have dispelled at least some of the unhappiness. Jacob had been mostly quiet, but he'd responded to questions a lot more civilly than Dean had witnessed up to this point.

"Can Sam and Dean watch movies with us?"

They'd finished dinner, and Jo had started the boys clearing the table.

"Of course, they're welcome, if they'd like," she said easily. She handed Tommy Dean's plate, and turned him toward the sink. Sam picked up his own plate and stood. He grabbed his glass and Dean's on his way to the kitchen counter.

"Sam, sit down," she said firmly. "Dinner dishes are the boys' responsibility."

Sam put the dishes on the counter. "I don't mind." He gave her what Dean considered Sam's Aw, shucks, ma'am, it's nothin' smile. It was charming and self-effacing and it usually turned women to goo, bending them completely to Sam's will.

"Well," she said kindly, "I do. Please let them take care of it."

Sam blinked in surprise. His eyes went to Dean, and chastened, he sat back down.

"Thank you."

"Y'all should watch with us! It's really fun. Me and Michael and Jacob get to take turns picking the movie and it's my turn this week."

"Michael and Jacob and I…" Jo corrected.

"Yeah," he acknowledged somewhat impatiently. "Anyway, it's my turn and it's gonna be really good."

"We're not watching The Incredibles again," Jake said from the sink.

"It's my turn," Tommy responded.

"Aunt Jo told you you have to pick something else this time." Michael backed Jacob up.

"I like The Incredibles," said Sam, instinctively taking sides with the youngest.

"Have you seen it 47 times?" asked Jacob darkly.

"It loses something around the 25th viewing," agreed Michael.

"But, it's my…" Tommy started to argue.

"Tommy." Jo joined the fray. "You already asked me about your choice. And it was something else."

"Yeah," Tommy admitted sulkily. "But still…"

Jo made a noise of exasperation and bonked the boy on the head with a potholder. "It's not The Incredibles," she reassured her older nephews.

Dean considered. He looked at Sam, gauging his brother's reaction. Sam was intrigued. Normal, Dean thought.

Tommy finally let it drop. "Aunt Jo makes popcorn and sometimes we have hot chocolate, and since Michael's grounded, he's gonna be here." Dean couldn't help but be amused and kind of touched that for Tommy, Michael's presence was clearly a big selling point. He figured that Michael probably wasn't going to be as enthusiastic about the evening as his little brother.

"Yeah, why not? If you're sure you don't mind," he asked Jo.

"Not at all."

"Yea!"

As the boys finished up the dishes, Dean helped Jo move laundry from the washers into the driers and start another couple of loads. Jo piled the contents from the driers they'd just emptied into a laundry basket and carried it into the kitchen.

About 10 minutes earlier, Sam had hesitantly offered to make the popcorn, and he'd grinned with pleasure when Jo had given him permission. Now, he was shaking a pan over one of the gas burners waiting for the kernels to pop. Jo set the basket on the cleared kitchen table and reached into one of the cupboards, pulling down an enormous blue and white crockery bowl. She put it on the counter next to Sam.

"You think you can fill that up?"

"Yes, ma'am," he assured her.

"Good. Cuz we're hogs for popcorn in this family."

She went over to the fridge and opening it, peered into the back. "I have beer. Do y'all want one?" She ran her eyes over Sam. "You're 21, aren't you, Sam?" He nodded.

"Yeah, I'll take one," Dean agreed.

"Me, too," said Sam.

She handed three bottles to Dean. "Do you mind?"

"Nope." He held all three long-necks easily in one hand. "Do you want me to get yours and Sam's, too?"

He grinned at her.

"You're hilarious," she deadpanned.

Dean nodded in satisfaction. Yes. Yes, I am.

xxxx

In the television room, the boys had already staked out their spots—Michael in an easy chair to the side, Tommy at one end of the couch, and Jacob on the floor. Jo walked around the room, pausing at each child and dumping a pile of clothes on top of him, emptying her basket a third at a time.

"Fold, please."

There was half-hearted grumbling, but the boys started folding immediately.

"So, what's the movie?" Michael asked Tommy.

Tommy reached under the seat cushion beneath him and produced the DVD with a flourish. "The Mummy!"

Dean nodded his approval. "Recent? Or classic?" He liked both.

"Recent," said Michael. "It's awesome."

"Hot librarian," remembered Dean. "Good choice."

Tommy beamed.

Dean sat down on the floor, leaning back against the couch.

"Boys, there are going to be a couple of adults who are going to need seats."

All three boys looked at Dean like they weren't quite sure Jo was talking about him. And evidently, Sam. Dean was as surprised as they were.

Dean started to protest, but Tommy had already clambered to the middle of the couch.

"You can sit up here, Dean," he exclaimed. He was pulling his pile of clothes with him.

Shrugging his acceptance, and frankly not willing to risk Jo's disapproval, Dean took Tommy's spot. "Thanks, dude."

Jo took a seat on the other side of Tommy, picking up some mending as she settled in.

"Jacob, honey, do you want to put the movie in?" Jacob grabbed the disc from his brother and got the machine ready to go.

When Sam came in with the popcorn, he put it on the coffee table before dropping to the floor in front of it.

"Michael…."

Michael had already started to rise, but Sam stopped him.

"Thanks, Jo, but really. The floor is more comfortable – I'm too long for those kinds of chairs."

Jo's eyes went to Michael, who had begun to sink back into the chair, his eyes still on his aunt. "Well, OK," she conceded. Michael grinned and flopped down.

The movie started and the popcorn was passed around and clothes were folded. About an hour into the movie, Jo got up and left the room. Fifteen minutes later she was back with another large basket full of clothes. This time she split the load five ways before she sat down. She laughed at the surprised looks on Dean and Sam's faces.

"I brought y'all's up while I was at it."

"Thanks," they said somewhat unenthusiastically.

The movie went on and the folding started up again.

"Whose are these?" Jacob held up a tattered pair of boxers.

Jo looked at the underwear over her glasses and said serenely, "I'm betting that anything you don't recognize belongs to Sam or Dean."

Sam snatched the offending article out of Jacob's hand.

Michael gave Sam a critical look. "Dude. There's this new thing called bleach. You should look into it."

Jacob snickered.

"Yeah, well. My mommy's not still doing my laundry," Sam said haughtily and lobbed a smaller, whiter pair of boxers at Michael.

Dean tossed a ball of three t-shirts at Sam, and sent a small pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and a pair of Underoos arching toward the other boys sitting around the room.

Jo continued to re-attach the buttons on the shirt in her hands as clothes began to fly.

"Gently, please," she said without raising her eyes.

xxxx

After the movie, Dean and Sam headed back to their room, Dean with a basket of laundry under his arm.

"If y'all get hungry, there are leftovers in the fridge. Help yourselves whenever you want. Although, with three boys in the house nothing lasts longer than 24 hours at the outside. Consider yourselves warned."

It was early yet, just after 9, but neither felt up to going out, so they played cards for awhile, and then got in bed.

They were both asleep before 10:30.

xxxx

The next morning, Dean took the morning shift at the diner while Sam continued work on the room. When Marge arrived, Dean asked Jo a couple of questions trying to figure out where they were headed next in the remodel.

"I've got the list of what we did in the other rooms. You can use that if you want to. But I'm not attached to it or anything. If you have other ideas, I'm open."

Dean nodded.

"Good. I know I've got all that information in my office somewhere."

Dean followed after her, asking aditional questions as they occurred to him. That, in turn, reminded her of other items she needed to tell him. By the time they reached her office, Dean had filled up the scrap of paper he'd been using to write things down.

"Do you have another piece of paper?"

"Oh. Sure." She shuffled through the piles on her desk. "I know I've got some around here somewhere." She opened a drawer, poking around.

Dean wandered around the room, looking at the books on the shelves and pictures on the walls. It didn't look a whole lot like an office—more like what Dean thought of as a "parlor," although he wasn't sure where he'd even gotten that word. There was fireplace on one end of the room, with a worn, but clean area rug in front of it. A sofa with a faded floral problem and a couple of chairs with needle-point seats formed a sitting area. Jo's desk was in a far corner. It had a computer on top and an ancient looking filing cabinet behind it.

Dean walked over to the fireplace and studied the framed photos on the mantel. He could hear Jo still shifting through the stacks and talking under her breath as she searched. He smiled to himself and peered at the pictures. He always liked looking at other people's snapshots. There weren't many pictures of his own family – more now since they'd gone back to Kansas – but still very few since Mom had been killed. There was the picture Sam had picked up from Dad's hotel room in Jericho with the three of them, Sam on Dad's lap, sitting on the hood of that car. Maybe a couple more. Stuck into Dad's journal or maybe with him now. Maybe.

Here there were pictures of the boys at various stages of development – Michael in a football uniform, Jacob aiming at a t-ball, Tommy with cake all over his face and a pre-formed number 3 candle clutched in a chubby fist. There were pictures of an older couple, one at what looked like their wedding, one at what Dean thought might be an anniversary celebration. He could see Jo in the woman, and the grin on the young man at the wedding was all Tommy.

Another photo made him pause. A couple. Young. The man he didn't recognize, but the woman… Dean moved a little closer. Jo. She was smiling up at the man—not much more than a boy, really—pregnant, her hand covering his resting on her swollen belly. He was grinning at the camera. He looked almost dazed with happiness.

"My husband, David."

Startled, Dean turned. She'd joined him without his noticing. Her eyes were on the photograph.

"We were in a car accident a couple of months after that picture was taken. David was killed instantly. I lost the baby." Dean swallowed, unsure what to say. She was quiet for a moment. "Alec would have been 27 this year."

Jo was still looking at the picture, a small, sad smile on her face. "Hard to believe it's been that long," she said.

The silence stretched out between them.

"You look really happy."

Dean said it quietly, throat tight at the thought of her suffering such a loss.

She turned to him, tears in her eyes, but the slight smile deepening. "We were," she said. "He was a good man."

Dean nodded, eyes straying further down the row of pictures. One with the boys and a couple he could only assume were their parents. One of Luke and a woman and a teen-aged boy and girl.

"Is that the sheriff?" He frowned. "I didn't know he was married."

Jo reached out and pulled the picture off the mantel. "He was. Sue died of breast cancer a little over a year ago." Jo ran a sleeve over the glass.

"When was the last time I dusted in here?" she asked herself absently.

Jo put the frame back where it had been.

"I've known Luke practically since we were born. He was best friends with my brother Jack and with David. When Jack and Mary died…" She sighed. "I don't know what I would have done without him and Sue."

Dean watched her silently.

"We have a lot of history, Luke and I." She reached out a finger and touched the picture, first the image of Luke, stiff, but smiling, then Sue, soft expression and curly hair. Jo turned back to Dean. "He's a good man, too."

Not sure what else to do, Dean nodded.

"Well." Moment over. "Here's all the information I thought I had." She handed him a sheaf of papers. "And some blank sheets. Do you need pens or pencils or anything? I know I've got crayons in the kitchen," she offered with a grin.

Dean rolled his eyes at her. "This ought to be fine."

xxxx

"Damn, Sammy!" Dean was impressed.

Sam's face lit up at the approval in his brother's voice.

"I got on a roll," he grinned.

"No kidding, man. This is great!" Sam had managed to strip the rest of the wallpaper in the bedroom and had moved on to the alcove into the bathroom. He'd gotten most of it off there, too, except, Dean could see, what disappeared behind the large mirror over the sink.

"I can't get the mirror on my own."

Dean grabbed a screwdriver, and Sam went to hold the mirror. Dean carefully removed the brackets holding the glass to the wall while Sam fought to keep it from falling.

"Got it?' Dean asked as he dropped the tool to the floor by his feet.

"Yeah," Sam grunted. He shifted his grip slightly. "But hurry."

Dean quickly folded one of the tarps that had been left lying around into a cushion for the mirror and headed back to the sink. He took one of the corners and Sam moved to the other. Gently, they eased the mirror down, maneuvering it into the outer room, and leaning it against the wall.

Over the next couple of hours Sam and Dean finished getting the wallpaper off the remaining wall and got started on removing the fixtures around the room. Jo wanted everything to go. And Dean tended to agree. The difference in the quality of the bathroom fixtures in this room and the remodeled ones was striking. Jo had definitely upgraded and Dean thought it was worth it.

As they worked, Dean's mind kept going back to the conversation he'd had with Jo earlier in the day.

"Did you know Jo was married?"

Sam looked at him in surprise. "What? Like now?"

"No, a long time ago. She's a widow."

"Wow." Sam took a minute to digest this. "She's seems young to be a widow." He was sitting on the floor removing plates from around the plugs in the wall. "What happened?"

"Car accident." Dean paused. "She was pregnant. Lost the baby."

Sam made a noise of sympathy. "How'd you find out?"

"She told me. There was a picture of her and her husband in her office."

Sam nodded. He turned to look at Dean. "Tommy said something about his parents dying. In a tornado or something. The boys happened to be spending the night with Jo during the storm and a twister hit the house."

Dean whistled under his breath. "Man," he said softly.

They worked in silence for a bit.

"Luke's wife died of breast cancer last year," Dean said.

"Seriously?" Sam sounded incredulous.

Dean shrugged, sending a long look in his brother's direction. "Almost makes you wonder…" He wasn't exactly sure about what, but it was in his nature to think about possibilities.

Sam turned and Dean saw that his brother's eyes were slightly unfocused, listening, searching… something. Dean waited, unconsciously holding his breath. But Sam's face cleared.

"Nah," Sam said quietly. His eyes, when they met Dean's were sad. "Sometimes life just sucks."

xxxx

The next day, Sunday, Jo had declared as a day of rest. She and the boys went to church, and Sam and Dean slept in. Dean wasn't sure how he felt about still being sheltered and fed without doing any work, but Jo had been firm, threatening some sort of unspecified punishment if she caught either of them attempting to work on the rooms.

"It'll be unspeakable, horrific." She paused. "Unimaginable." She'd glowered at Dean over the top of her half-glasses when he'd tried to protest. "God knew what He was doing when He instituted a Sabbath. Go. Rest." And then she'd refused to talk about it any more.

When the family had gotten back from church, there'd been lunch, and the boys playing basketball with Sam – three against one – out in the parking lot. Dean had watched for awhile, joining in long enough to pin Sam's arms to his sides while Tommy took shot after shot in attempt to make a single basket. Sam and Dean had struggled dramatically while Michael and Jacob had shouted encouragement until, finally, the goal was made. Flushed with victory, Tommy had run spastically around the "court," high-fiving everyone, including Sam.

Dean spent the remainder of the day detailing the Impala. She hadn't been in as bad a shape as he'd expected, and Dean had enjoyed the time on his own cleaning her inside and out. As he was finishing, Jo had joined him, sitting on the curb, asking casual questions about where he and Sam had been on their trip around the country. Questions about what he'd liked, what he'd found troubling or touching, the people they'd met. Questions he'd never really considered. Questions he'd surprised himself by answering.

Sam had come up at some point, sitting next to Jo, adding his perspective and sense of humor to whatever tale Dean had been spinning. He and Dean had bounced stories off each other, filling in blanks or ribbing one another as they told edited versions of their adventures on the road. Jo and the boys had listened appreciatively, laughing and gasping at all the right moments. Sam had even told a PG-rated Woman in White story, keeping a wary eye on Jo, making sure he didn't cross any lines. The boys had listened, wide-eyed, Tommy scooting closer to his aunt, who put a comforting arm around his shoulders. But she'd been smiling, entertained by Sam's story.

At the end, Tommy said, "There's no such thing as ghosts, though." But his eyes were a little worried.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, when his brother glanced his way. There was a glint in Jacob's eyes, and he opened his mouth.

"Right," said Sam quickly, cutting off the older boy. Jacob grinned, not pushing his luck.

"Right," Jo agreed. "Like there's no such thing as mummys." She hugged Tommy close. Mummys had been a big concern Friday night.

She gave Tommy a smacking kiss on the top of his head and stood. "Dinner in half an hour, gentlemen."

Dean put up the cleaning supplies, and, along with Sam and Michael, helped set the table, and lay out the meal. After dinner, the boys worked on homework, and Sam and Dean headed back to their room. They made plans for the next day's work and watched television until 10:00, Sam flipping channels until he landed on Grey's Anatomy. Dean watched, mocking, while Sam mostly ignored him.

When they turned out the light, Dean lay awake for a long time, listening to Sam sleep and the sound of the occasional car as it roared past them on the highway. He thought maybe he should be ready to get going again. Four days in the same place without a job—a hunt—being involved was almost unprecedented.

Dean had always been pretty content with the life he'd grown up with, the life he'd chosen as an adult. He'd liked the constant motion—new places, new people—never thought he'd missed anything by not staying in one place for long. He'd never understood Sam's obsession with what his brother thought was stable, normal. Safe.

Because in Dean's mind, safe had always been Dad. And Sam. The three of them. Together. That had been all the stability, all the normal, that Dean had ever required. But Sam had wanted something else. No, Dean corrected himself, that wasn't fair. Sam hadn't actually wanted something other than his family. But he'd wanted something more. And Dean had never really gotten that.

He'd tried. Dean really thought he'd tried. And he'd tried to make Sam see Dad's point of view, to see his own point of view – that safety came in knowing the truth. And fighting. But Sam had never gotten that either.

Ultimately, Dean had failed to get through to Sam, and his own sense of safe had cracked when his younger brother had walked out the door for college; and it had shattered almost completely when his father had disappeared. It had been the need for that feeling of safety that had sent Dean after Sam for help. He'd hated acknowledging that he didn't want to look for Dad on his own. But it was Sam and his brother was the only person in the world that Dean had ever risked exposing himself to, even if he didn't do it very often. He'd seen Sam's eyes flicker at the admission—recognition of Dean's need and Sam's own inability to say no to his brother when Dean asked for help.

After Jess's death, Dean had wondered if Sam, grief-stricken and enraged, had been too high a price to pay to have his brother back. But deep down Dean had been relieved. And happy. He'd hurt for Sam, but he'd been happy, too.

He'd done his best not to show it, denying it even to himself most of the time, but the joy Dean felt at being with his brother again had still surfaced on occasion. Dean's jokes and teasing had fallen flat with his brother initially, Sam's ill-humor and frustration with Dean striking home more often than he cared to admit. But they'd ridden it out, and Dean's sense of safe had begun to mend.

There was a part of Dean that still felt the lack of his father. Felt like that was what was needed to make things really right again. But more and more, Sam was enough. The two of them a unit, sufficient in and of themselves.

The last few days had been something else, though. And Dean wasn't sure what to do with that.

It had been easy to become a part of something here. A part of something that Dean recognized, but had never experienced before. Not like this. Comfort and easiness. A new level—a different kind—of safe.

In all his life, Dean had never just wanted a mom like he knew Sam had. Sam, who had never known their mother, had longed for a mother with an intensity that had saddened and amused and sometimes frustrated both his father and his brother.

Dean had only ever wanted his mom. And he'd known, even at four, that no one, ever, was going to be his mom. He'd accepted it, lived with it. But Jo.

Dean rolled over onto his stomach, uncomfortable with the turn his mind was taking. He was a grown man, long past any need for a mother. And yet. There was something about this woman, something familiar and kind, something that touched him deep in a place that he hadn't really known existed, except in his dreams.

When he dreamed of his mother.

xxxx