Upon their return to Sioux Falls, Bobby is visibly relieved to see that they're in one piece. Jo gets it. They'd all been worried, to a degree, that things could go south very quickly. Even with a simple poltergeist, it could have ended badly. Her heart had nearly stopped, when Dean went flying down those stairs. Goosebumps spread over her skin at the memory.
After she and Dean chat with Bobby about their hunt, Jo calls her mother. Who picks up on the first ring. And chews her out for risking her life.
"I'm fine, mom, and so is Dean," she says. "We're both okay."
"Yeah, but—you know I worry, honey," her mom says, much calmer now that she's gotten it out of her system.
"We all worry about the people we love. I get that. But I've gotta get back in the saddle, sooner or later."
"Are you sure you two are all healed up?" There's a short pause on the other end, a shallow breath. "There's no more pain?"
"I'm sure," Jo says. "The pain's completely gone."
"And Dean?"
"He's okay too." Jo smiles, even if she knows her mom can't see it. "Although, I was itching to go hunting for something way earlier, but Dean convinced me to stay put."
"How'd he do that?"
"He was scared of something going sideways, so we came to an agreement to hold off a while longer."
Jo takes a sip of the eggnog that Bobby had prepared for them. It's Christmas Eve. When Jo looks out the window, she notices the heavy snowfall outside. Dean is up in the attic, looking for something for Bobby, and the latter is puttering around in the kitchen. Jo hums, a contented sound.
"Where are you?" she asks after a moment. "Will you be here by tomorrow?"
"We're just about… I dunno, five or six hours away," her mom answers. "We should be there by tonight. Only took a short break at a rest stop."
"Just you and Sam?"
"Rufus too. Bobby invited him along to spend the holidays with us." Her mother sighs. Jo can tell that she's tired by the way her voice sounds when she continues. "We never know when it's gonna be our last chance to do that."
"Is that how you found out we were on a hunt?"
"Yeah," her mom laughs a little. "Bobby squealed when I asked him where my daughter was. But I did as he told me and didn't call you. Especially since he wasn't sure yet if you'd finished the job."
The discussion takes a turn towards her mother's own hunt and she tells Jo about what they'd managed to take out. The one in Florida ended up being a whole pack of ghouls. In Louisiana, the trio had come across a werewolf. But the first one had been the hardest of the two, apparently, because they couldn't figure out what monster it was in the first place.
Dean is back by the time Jo's finished with her conversation. She notices he's carrying an old, dusty cardboard box labeled Christmas Decorations on the side in tidy penmanship. Not Bobby's writing. Those things must have been up there for years, unused. Probably since Bobby's wife died.
Together, they start decorating the place, with a little help from Bobby. The old hunter had even had a friend bring him a fir tree, so they could go all out. They put up tinsel and baubles, and Jo is giddy with excitement. She hadn't done this sort of thing since before the Roadhouse burned down. Last time she did, it'd been Ash helping her.
Doing it with Dean, though, is a different kind of experience. Jo's pulse quickens at the realization that this is their first Christmas as a couple. The first of many, she hopes. And Dean goes about his tasks with a kind of childish joy that makes him look so much younger than he is. Carefree even. They have a lot of fun.
The decorations aren't many, so they're done within an hour. After that, they start up dinner. Nothing very fancy, but Dean wants to try out another recipe he'd learned from her mother.
Jo makes sure there's some food that's appropriate for Rufus, though. She knows he's not fussy about what he eats, but he's got his moments when he prefers his food to be kosher. And she likes some of those dishes, herself. Before long, they have a pretty varied feast done, spread across the stove and in the oven.
While Jo readies the dining area—she'd had help with moving the table to a better position—Dean goes for a supply run. They don't have nearly enough alcohol, it seems.
It doesn't take him long to get back. He joins her on the couch once he's put everything away, and they cuddle for a while. Because that's a thing now, cuddling. And it's something Jo enjoys immensely, to be able to relax and just be.
"You think Cas is gonna come?" Jo asks as she twirls a beer bottle between her palms.
"I have no idea," Dean says. "Tried calling the guy, even prayed. He's still MIA."
"Hope he's okay. It's been a while since he took off."
"Yeah, I'm starting to get a bit worried." Dean takes a swig of his beer, swallows it down and sighs. "Maybe it's harder to find the answers he's looking for, because he's been cut off from Heaven."
"Yeah, probably." Jo sighs too and makes herself more comfortable on the couch, leaning a shoulder against one of Dean's. "What do you think it was that made the pain go away when we were close?"
"No clue," Dean says. "Shot in the dark, but it probably had a connection with us both being hurt. Sam's been looking into it too, but he's found bupkes. 'Cause, y'know… no one's ever survived an encounter with a hellhound before."
"Guess we're one of a kind, huh?"
"Yeah, we are."
He leans in and kisses her then, slow and soft. Lingers a little. When he pulls back, Jo releases another sigh of contentment. All thoughts are dispelled from her mind by the pure bliss of just being in Dean's presence. The way he looks at her when he opens his eyes intensifies the feeling tenfold, flooding her with a happiness she's never felt before.
Their moment is interrupted by the sounds of two cars pulling up in the yard. Jo grins and jumps to her feet, rushing to open the door. Her mother has a gift bag in the crook of one arm and her duffel slung over the other shoulder by the time Jo makes it outside.
What follows is laughter and a whirlwind of activity. It's the first time Jo and her mom even celebrate Christmas since the year the Roadhouse burned down. The only reason they'd even done it before—after her father's death—was because everyone else did too. And it'd been good for business.
They're not overly religious, anyway. And neither, she thinks, are Sam and Dean. Jo knows Bobby isn't keen on celebrating much of anything, except for—occasionally—a successful hunt. She knows that Rufus, though, does observe most of the Jewish holidays.
Most hunters have lost at least one loved one, so the season only brings about feelings of missing the departed. Ironically, the people who hunt what goes bump in the night celebrate in a more secular way.
Jo shakes those thoughts when Dean manages to corner her under the mistletoe. She doesn't object, just kisses him back. It makes his whole face light up. He then grins like the cat that got the canary, making everyone roll their eyes at his antics.
After dinner, gifts are exchanged. They've mostly gotten each other bottles of whiskey, fancier ones than they usually drink. Rufus finds himself with a handful of blue label Johnnie Walker bottles. Jo laughs at the delighted look on his face.
"I won't have to spend money on booze for at least a couple of months," he says. His words make the whole group laugh.
"Hear hear," Dean says, taking a mouthful of eggnog. He sways a little. "Although, it'll come in handy for New Year's."
The next round of gifts is more meaningful. Jo gives her mom a new wallet and Bobby a special pair of fingerless gloves, so he can more easily maneuver his wheelchair. She gives Rufus a box of silver bullets for his favorite gun and Sam a new gun maintenance kit. The latter also gets a brand new machete from his brother, since his old one had broken on their last vamp hunt.
A minute later, Dean pulls her aside and hands her a small parcel, wrapped up in gaudy paper. Jo reaches under Bobby's desk—where she's stashed it—and gives him a slightly bigger one, the wrapping equally colorful. It's a shoulder holster for the weapon he uses most often.
"So you don't end up one day accidentally shooting yourself in the ass, when you shove that gun down the back of your pants," she says with a grin.
Dean snorts at her quip, but holds the holster like it's the most precious thing in the world. Jo sees him swallow. When he looks at her again, though, there's a gleam in his eyes—mischief, she realizes—and smiles a megawatt smile.
"I love it," he says. "And you're right. Shooting myself in the butt isn't on my bucket list, so thanks for this." He gestures towards her hands. "Open yours."
Jo does so. Her breath hitches when she realizes it's a sheath for a small dagger. The exact shape and size of her father's old knife. She looks back up at him, blinking back tears. Dean's expression is tender, and so is his smile now. But there's a bit of fear showing in his eyes.
"Yours was falling apart," he says, a touch of uncertainty creeping into his voice. "I had to sneak around to get the measurements and then find a guy who could do it. I've had it with me since we left Lincoln."
It occurs to Jo that Dean's scared she won't like it. Which couldn't be farther from the truth.
"It's beautiful," she says. "Thank you, Dean."
"I wasn't sure what to get you, at first." Dean looks visibly relieved by her response. "I don't want you to think that I'm trying to replace something of your dad's. It's just… like I said, yours was crumbling and I thought you'd like something to keep the knife in that'd be sturdy."
Apparently, Dean rambles when he's nervous. Good to know. Jo leans forward and kisses him to shut him up. He relaxes even more. When the need to breathe becomes overwhelming, they pull back from each other, but Jo still holds onto one of Dean's hands. She takes a deep breath. Releases it.
"I like it very much, Dean," she says.
"I'm glad, 'cause I didn't want to send the wrong message. I just thought it'd be something useful."
"It is." Jo smirks when she thinks of the perfect thing to say to allay his fears. "At least now, when I stick it in my boot, I won't risk slicing my ankle open."
That gets the desired effect. Dean snorts a short laugh and she giggles along with him. Honest to god giggles. This man is turning her into a regular girly girl. And she doesn't even regret it. Jo likes this feeling of being able to be completely herself around him. No pretending.
Dean sets his new holster on the desk and grasps her other hand in his now free one. Moves it so that he turns the sheath the other way and motions for her to look at it again. When she does, she's floored. Because, on the other side of the leather covering, there's an engraving of a devil's trap and, under it, her initials. A simple JBH.
Just when she thinks he couldn't possibly surprize her more with his thoughtfulness, he throws her a curveball.
"You'll now have a part of your dad with you," Dean says, "along with something that's all your own." He cups the side of her face with his right hand and swipes his thumb over her cheekbone. "And I'm sure he'd be proud of what a great hunter you've become. For putting this knife to good use."
Jo just nods, not trusting her voice. She bends and pulls the knife in question out of her boot and slides it into its new leather encasing. It's a perfect fit. It makes sense now.
"That's why I couldn't find it, before we left for Lincoln?" she asks, a smile pulling at her lips. "You pinched it so you could get the measurements."
"Busted. Sorry I made you think you'd lost it, but I wanted this to be a surprize."
Jo can't be mad at him. Not for this.
"You're forgiven," she says. She kisses him again, intense, but shorter this time. "Let's go join the others. I wanna show my mom what you got me."
Dean picks up his own gift and puts it on. He slings an arm around Jo's shoulders and gives her a short peck on the cheek. She returns the gesture by pressing her face into his chest and giving him a brief hug. With their arms around each other, she looks up into his face.
"Merry Christmas, Dean."
"Merry Christmas, Jo."
New Year's finds the group still at Bobby's. There isn't all that much on the horizon, as far as hunting is concerned, but Dean is sure that Lucifer isn't idly sitting by. He's brought the subject up a few times. They'd all decided—right after Christmas—that stopping the Apocalypse will have to be a group effort.
Just after they'd kissed at midnight, on New Year's Eve, Jo'd told him that she wants to hunt with him and Sam. She'd talked to her mom about it. Dean has been on cloud nine ever since.
As they're all discussing possibilities and strategies to combat the upcoming threats, Ellen announces that she's going to partner up with Rufus. She also promises to visit Bobby as much as she can. Dean appreciates that, as he'd also planned to drop in more often than he used to. They'd keep in touch by phone, too.
"If you guys ever need another partner for some hunt," Sam says, "I'm more than happy to team up with you."
He throws a sly look in Dean's direction. Barely conceals a smirk. Figures that his brother would rub it in his face. If their roles were reversed, Dean would be insufferable and would take every opportunity to poke the bear. He'd make fun of Sam for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Bobby snorts and mumbles something about ending up as a fifth wheel anyway. The only reason Dean hears it is because he's sitting close by. He almost chokes on his coffee and Jo has to thump him on the back a few times. Sam, on the other hand, is oblivious. Dean will have to start thinking of ways to make his brother uncomfortable. And it's gonna be comedy gold.
"We'll give you a call if there's ever a need," Ellen says. She, too, hasn't noticed the interaction. "But if Lucifer shows his ugly mug again, it's gonna have to be all hands on deck."
A chorus of agreement follows her words. Dean hopes that the six of them, along with Cas, will be enough to put a dent in the Devil's efforts. He takes another gulp of coffee to hide the terror he's sure is visible on his face. When his hands shake, he squeezes the mug a little tighter. He's so not looking forward to going against Lucifer.
Because Dean is certain that the man with the red eyes—a recurring theme in his nightmares since the one he'd had after passing out on Bobby's porch steps—is none other than the fallen archangel. Dean's been having those on and off. He's sleeping better with Jo by his side and she helps him calm down quicker. But he still has the odd one. And it's always the same, if different in some aspects. The man with the red eyes, hellhounds, lots of blood and pain. So much pain. Like the kind he'd felt on the rack in Hell. Dean thinks that it's a combination of several factors influencing what he dreams about.
He shakes himself out of those thoughts and tunes back into the conversation the others are all engaged in.
"I'll keep my ear to the ground," Bobby says, "and give you guys a call if anything else pops up."
Dean hadn't caught the rest of the exchange, having been lost in his own thoughts. He suspects it's something to do with their current crisis. Would make sense. He keeps quiet, though, not wanting the others to notice he hasn't been paying attention.
"What about the whole vessel situation you two've got going on?" Rufus chimes in.
"We'd have to say yes for them to be able to possess us," Sam says. When Rufus raises both eyebrows, he shrugs. "Angel possession is different, I guess."
"That's one in our favor." Rufus rubs his chin while he thinks, then goes on. "And there's no way they can weasel around that? Like possess your corpses, or something? Or trick you?"
"If that were the case," Dean says, "they would've just let me croak in Carthage, when they had the chance." Dean shoves the unpleasant feelings that elicits into the back of his mind. "For some reason, they need a living host to walk the Earth. I'd expect Lucifer would try to trick us, though."
Sam shifts, visibly uncomfortable. It's obvious that Lucifer had already tried that angle with him and failed.
"He likes to take on the appearance of a dead loved one," Sam says, looking pained. "In my case, it was Jessica, my former girlfriend."
"Guess Michael just likes to send his lackeys to do his dirty work," Dean grumbles. "But neither of us is going to say yes to being an angel condom."
"Good," Rufus says. "Last thing we need is both dickbag archangels having meat suits."
"I wonder why Michael hasn't just gotten a temporary vessel yet," Jo says. "Not that I want him to, but it might be something we should expect somewhere down the line. Since he can't get the one he wants."
She leans closer to him and Dean puts an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her elbow gently. He can feel her shiver slightly. She's scared, same as him, and he can't blame her.
"I think Michael's too stuck up to pick a rando to wear," Dean concludes. "They think of us as 'mud monkeys'," he makes air quotes, "and see us as beneath them. They resent needing us as vessels."
"Charming fellas," Ellen says. "Must be very popular at parties."
The whole group laughs at her sarcasm. Dean's going to miss her sense of humor when they get back on the road. The atmosphere is a bit lighter until Rufus bursts the bubble.
"Do we need to worry about them finding you two?" he asks. "Or about them possibly pursuing an answer in an aggressive way?"
"Not unless we run into them," Sam says. "And they've tried that route too. Didn't work." He runs a hand over his face. "When Lucifer first approached me, it was in a dream. Cas' warding hid me from his view."
"Warding? " Rufus looks confused. "What kinda warding?"
"A while ago, Cas branded some Enochian symbols into our ribs and other bones in our chests." Sam winces as he motions to his torso. "It keeps all angels from being able to track us." He pauses and runs a hand along his sternum. "It was... painful."
"Yeah, it sucked," Dean agrees, resisting the urge to copy his brother's gesture. "But it's been a pretty big advantage."
"Another point in our favor." Rufus counts it on his fingers. "Still, none of us should get too cocky."
"You got that right," Bobby mumbles.
Their talk turns to what hunts each group should take. Dean doesn't really care, as far as he's concerned. He's thinking of ways he can work with both Jo and Sam. Having hunted with his brother ever since they were kids, that part isn't going to be a big deal. With Jo, however, he's only done so a handful of times. Per their last team-up, that's also not going to be an issue. What Dean doesn't know is how the three of them will click.
He's not worried about his brother and Jo not gelling well together, though. His memory is a bit hazy, but he remembers them assembling the bomb in the hardware store. They'd been efficient, like a well oiled machine.
No, the thing that's going to be difficult will be the sleeping arrangements. Dean had always gotten him and Sam a room with two beds. Add Jo to the mix and things become slightly more complicated. So he'll have to find a workaround solution to the problem. One that will make all parties involved happy. The thing is, Dean doesn't know how to do that just yet, so he'll have to have a talk with Sam pretty soon.
Ellen and Rufus decide on a case in the pile of possibilities that Bobby had amassed within only the last week or so. While they do that, Sam gets a call. Dean ends up looking through cases with Jo, parsing specifically for omens that seem to be related to the Apocalypse. To the presence of Death. All the while, he listens for the moment his brother finishes his conversation.
When he does, Dean leaves Jo to study the files alone and corners Sam in the kitchen. His brother's just done shoving the phone in his pocket, but before Dean can open his mouth to say a word, Sam beats him to it.
"You'll never guess who that was," Sam says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.
"I might, if you gave me a few hints." Dean grins and waggles his eyebrows, making Sam snort.
"You remember Donna?" Sam asks. "From that motel in Housatonic? She'd sometimes babysit us when dad was off on a hunt."
"Yeah, I remember her," Dean says. "What did she call about?"
"She thinks her new house is haunted. And the thing's attacked her daughter."
"Yikes!" It seems that they've found a case to solve. "You want us to go check it out?"
"If Jo's fine with it, then yeah."
"Speaking of Jo," Dean says, having found the perfect opening, "you really okay with her joinin' us?"
"Of course I am."
"Then you need to help me figure out a solution to the sleeping arrangement problem." Dean runs a hand over his hair, but stops halfway through the gesture. He doesn't want to seem nervous. "I mean, are you okay with getting a single, while Jo and I take a double? Or are there other ways..." Shit, he's rambling again.
"Dude, relax," Sam says with a laugh. "You don't have to worry about that. We'll be fine." He smirks and Dean realizes that he's going to be made fun of. "Besides, I'll sleep better on my own. At least some nights."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that, sometimes, you snore." Sam gives him a mild bitchface. "Really loudly. Especially when you've had a lot to drink."
"I'll have you know that the same's true for you," Dean grumbles.
"Wouldn't know if it is, since I'm asleep." Sam turns serious then. "But if need be, now and then, we can take a double for the three of us. Those beds are wide enough to fit two people."
"If we ever need to stick together, yeah, that'd be nifty."
"But," Sam says, his bitchface back again and intensifying, as he points a finger at Dean, "you and Jo need to keep it PG on those occasions. No funny business, or I'm sleeping in the car."
"You hate sleeping in the car."
Dean wouldn't screw around with Jo when Sam's only one bed away. That would be too weird. He'll find other ways to make his brother squirm, but he draws the line at that.
"Precisely," Sam says. "I like Jo, a lot. She's good for you. And you guys can go at it when you've got your own room. Just... hold off when we're all sharing."
"Sure thing." Well, this is awkward. "I don't think Jo'd go for something like that anyway. And it'd be weird as fuck."
"Yeah."
"So that's settled then?" Dean asks.
"We're good."
"Good." Dean sticks a hand in one of his jeans' pockets and fiddles with a paperclip he finds there. "I didn't want you thinking you don't have a word to say in this arrangement. I'd like for us all to work like a team and I thought it'd be best to ask for your input."
"Dean, you don't have to worry about me feeling left out. I know neither you, nor Jo would do that to me. And I want you to be happy, 'cause you're my brother."
Sam smiles then, and Dean can't quite read his expression. It's a wistful kind of smile, with a hint of regret. Along with something else sort of like longing. Dean remembers seeing it, when his brother had brought up Jessica earlier. But there's also something that looks suspiciously like fear, tears gathering in Sam's eyes. He doesn't let them fall, though.
"You okay, Sam?" Dean has to ask, even if his voice barely cooperates.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam says, visibly pulling himself back together. "It's just… at least one of us should be happy in this shitshow of a life we have."
God, hearing that hurts. Dean hates seeing Sam in pain, especially the kind he knows he can't do anything about. And he knows that, no matter what he says, things will never really be fine. Sam's girlfriend will still be dead.
"Maybe," Dean says, "one day in the future, you'll find someone. I mean, I never thought I would. And then I did."
"Yeah, maybe someday," Sam murmurs.
He seems to shake himself out of it and takes a step towards Dean, who lets him. Yet Dean doesn't know what to expect. And when his brother's arms close around him, he's is taken by surprize. He embraces him back.
"What was that for?" he asks, when they pull apart.
"Just because I can," is Sam's answer. "You almost died. I don't want to look back one day and feel like I do about others I've lost along the way. I don't wanna regret not doing this sort of thing, you know."
"You're right." Dean swallows. "We should do it more often."
Sam just nods and Dean claps him on the shoulder. This chat had gotten a lot more serious than Dean thought it would.
They head back into the dining room, where the others are again discussing how to deal with the impending Apocalypse. Dean tells Jo about the case Sam had found. She's quickly on board. Says that, if a friend of theirs is in need, they have to help. Together with Sam, they decide on when to leave for Massachusetts.
Dean watches as Sam animatedly tells Jo about Donna, their former babysitter from years ago. By the looks on their faces, he can tell they're thrilled to be working together. Seems like he'd freaked out about nothing. He relaxes as he thinks that this appears to be a good start to their team-up.
It'll work out, he tells himself. It has to.
Ellen and Rufus leave early the next day. There's no sign of Cas as of that day Jo'd told him about the phantom pains, so Dean prays to him. Tells the angel that they're leaving Bobby's place the morning after. He hopes Cas can hear him. Dean would hate for something to have happened to his friend, and he wouldn't even know about it. He prays a few more times by the time it's afternoon. Still nothing.
He tries calling the cellphone Cas has been using since he'd branded their ribs. Absently, he thinks that it would come in handy if the rest of their group had those Enochian symbols too. He'll ask Cas about it some other time.
"He's not picking up, is he?" Jo asks.
It's close to midnight by now. Dean had snuck downstairs half-an-hour ago, convinced that Jo—and everyone else, for that matter—was asleep. Apparently she's not.
"No. And I'm starting to get really worried now."
Everyone knows that Cas is their ace in the hole. Despite being cut off from Heaven, effectively depowered, he still packs one hell of a punch. Without him, they have no advantage. The fact that he's still MIA is more than concerning.
And he's the closest thing Dean has to a best friend. Besides Sam, but Sam is also his brother, so that relationship is a completely different kettle of fish. And they've lost too many friends throughout the years. Dean doesn't want to add Cas to that list.
"We've gotta find another way to get in touch with him," Jo says, lowering herself into the chair next to him. "Maybe we can teach him to use email, or something. If he can't risk answering his phone, or coming in person, he can then have an alternative."
Dean tries to imagine Cas sitting at a computer. He almost busts out laughing.
"Think we can teach an old dog new tricks?"
He gets up and slides the door to the dining area closed, then sits back down at the table. They're in the kitchen. For anyone else in the house to hear them, they'd have to be pretty loud.
"Why not?" Jo says. She arches an eyebrow. "He did learn how to use a phone."
"You've got a point," Dean says. "Right now, I'd be happy with an answer via snail mail, even."
"You know, that's a very good idea. Wouldn't you say, Cas?"
The voice comes from behind them. Dean and Jo whirl around almost simultaneously. And Dean barely avoids falling on his ass, when one of the chair legs catches on the linoleum. It's a close call. But when he sees who it is that's dropped in on them, Dean is very tempted to hurl the chair he'd been sitting in at the other's head.
The only thing that stops him is the fact that Cas seems to be fine. He does look exasperated, though. Dean can't blame him, considering his companion, the one who'd spoken, is none other than Gabriel.
"Who the hell is that?" Jo asks, pointing a finger in the archangel's direction.
"This is Gabriel," Cas says, for Jo's benefit. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. It's just now that I found some answers." He throws Gabriel a sideways look. "It took me a while to get those out of him."
"Now, now," Gabriel admonishes. He pulls the lollipop he'd been sucking on since he arrived out of his mouth. "Don't exaggerate. I'm just hard to pin down, that's all."
"You led me on a wild goose chase, is what you did. This could have been over weeks ago."
"Wait, the archangel Gabriel?" Jo asks, tone incredulous.
"That one, yes," Cas says without missing a beat.
"Okay, back up," Dean buts in. He's starting to get a headache. "How is Gabriel involved in all this?"
"That's a long story, actually." Gabriel gestures towards the table. "You might wanna sit down for this."
Dean gives Jo what he hopes is an inquiring look. She shrugs her shoulders and motions for the two angels to take the other side, turning her chair back around. When they're seated, she plops down, propping her elbows on the table.
"I'm listening," she says.
With his hands bearing the weight, Dean leans on the wooden surface, and stares the archangel down. He prefers to stand. It doesn't make any difference whether he does or not, because both Cas and Gabriel are shorter than Dean, even sitting down. Especially Gabriel. But Dean wants to make it clear that he's not fooling around.
"I asked around at first," Cas starts. "Some of my brethren shunned me, while others couldn't possibly know what I was looking for. And then, a friend let slip that events had been altered." He drags a hand down his face and sighs. "The Fates were not happy. I still don't know why they haven't tried to rectify what they'd, normally, consider an anomaly."
The reminder to Zachariah's words is like someone pouring ice water over his head. Dean shivers. From the corner of his eye, he sees Jo tense up.
"I told you, I convinced them to let things go," Gabriel says, looking smug. "There's no way to 'put things right'," he makes air quotes, "without causing a much bigger mess."
"What do you mean?" Dean asks.
"It's pretty simple," Gabriel says. "If they try to intervene and change things back, you," he points to Dean, "would remember. This whole ordeal has formed a bond between the two of you. One that can't be broken. Even by a timeline reset. Both of you, actually, would remember the events up 'till the moment things were changed back. And that would cause problems on a cosmic scale."
"What caused the change in the first place?" Jo asks. Dean can see that her hands are trembling. "Zachariah said…"
"That you were gonna bite the dust, yeah," Gabriel says. "I'm the one who started the ball rolling in the other direction."
"Why?" Jo's voice is now a hoarse whisper.
"Didn't like the way things turned out the first go 'round."
"So you decided to tweak the timeline in your favor," Dean says bitterly. He sits down now, unable to keep his position anymore. "Your lot always has something to achieve."
"Actually, I didn't even have to do much." Gabriel smirks and twirls his lollipop between thumb and forefinger. "You two already had a history of dancing around each other. I only gave you," he points to Jo, "a little nudge to drink a few more glasses of whiskey than you would have."
"So you manipulated her?" Dean growls. The implication makes his blood boil.
"No, you doofus", Gabriel says. "I just planted the suggestion of trying to drown out her thoughts in liquor. She had banging your brains out on her mind long before that. The extra whiskey only gave her the courage to actually do it."
Jo puts a hand on his forearm and squeezes gently, to Dean's surprize. It's the only thing that stops him from throttling the winged dickbag.
"You didn't make us do any of the things we did that night?" Jo asks.
"Nope," Gabriel says. "That was all you. Free will in all its glory."
"And that's all it took to change things?" Dean can't believe that's all there is to it. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop. "One little nudge and bam! New timeline? Just like that?"
"I think you guys call it the butterfly effect? Yeah, that would be it." Gabriel motions with his hands as he continues explaining. "Jo here made a different decision than she would have before my involvement. That, in turn, changed all events following it. Welcome to a brand new timeline!"
"How did you...? " Jo's voice catches and she clears her throat. "How did you convince the Fates to back off?"
Dean covers the hand still on his arm with one of his own. Rubs a thumb along its back, for his benefit, as much as her own. Fucking angels and their games.
"You two are pretty unique." Gabriel seems to turn serious, then. "Your bond began forming years ago, without any heavenly interference. On the contrary. Heaven wouldn't want you together. But you were drawn to each other again, so the plan upstairs was to permanently break you up."
"Over my dead body!" Dean retorts.
"Well, that almost came true," Cas says. He has a strange look on his face, one Dean can't read.
"Yeah, no," Gabriel says, shaking his head. "That is the one thing my brothers didn't want to happen. Under any circumstances. Because they need you alive for Michael, so they would've let Jo here, and her mother, take the bullet for you. Wouldn't even have to lift a finger, beyond making sure she was hurt. Badly. I guess they thought that would make you fold, eventually."
"Fuck them!" Dean says. He's beyond angry now. "I'm never saying yes to those douchebags."
"Which is exactly what I wanted to achieve, when I stepped in."
"I thought you actually wanted us to agree to being angel condoms?" Dean asks, confused now.
"I changed my mind," is Gabriel's answer. "I like free will. And I've gotten kinda attached to humanity. This grand plan of our Father's, that Michael wants to follow, would destroy half of all Creation. At least. I like it here, so I sure as hell don't want that to happen."
"You still haven't answered my question," Jo says. "How did you convince the Fates?"
"Oh yeah, right," Gabriel says. "I pointed out the obvious. Bigger mess. They wouldn't like a bigger mess. Leave things as they are now and you've got happy campers all around. Well, minus the Heavenly Host, but they can't do anything about it." He grins. "Besides, I would've just tried again until it stuck. I made it clear that I wasn't backing off from achieving my desired outcome. And they can't exactly stop me."
"What makes us so special, though?" Dean can't help but ask. There has to be a catch.
"Your bond." Gabriel's demeanor turns serious again. "I didn't expect that to happen, but—like I said—your bond is pretty unique. Not only did it begin of your own free will, which is rare, but it also turned into one never before seen among mortals."
"The wounds to their souls," Cas says, seeming to have had a revelation.
"Bingo!" Gabriel says. "You two were hurt by hellhounds, but not killed. Your very souls were ripped open. With there being a connection already formed, your injured souls sought solace in each other. All it took was one touch."
"Are you saying that..." Jo says. She grips Dean's arm tighter. "Are we like soulmates?"
"Something even stronger than that." Gabriel leans back in his chair and sighs. "The Fates know that. Heaven now knows it. None of them can try to reverse it. Not without breaking the universe in the process, because this sort of thing has consequences."
"Is that why the pain went away when we were close?" Dean has to know, even though he suspects the answer.
"Yes. The proximity also helped your injuries heal faster than they would have otherwise."
"I tried to heal Jo," Cas says, "but I could only erase the physical hurts."
"You wouldn't have been able to fix it even at full power," Gabriel says. "Not even Zachariah, with Heaven's backing, or Michael himself, would be able to heal that. Only Father could. Souls are very strange things."
"Wait a second," Dean says. He can feel his blood pressure rising again. "You mean Zachariah lied about his ability to patch me up if I said yes to Michael?"
"Obviously," Gabriel answers, looking like he's holding back a laugh. "That bootlicker would do anything to gain favor from the higher ups."
Dean doesn't know why he's surprized. Zachariah's been an asswipe since the first moment they'd met and hasn't given any indication that would change. Still, in a way, he'd expected a shred of honesty from that flying dick. Guess he'd been wrong. The angels wanted to have their way and nothing would stop them. Humans were just pawns. Pieces—the most insignificant ones—in a game of chess between cosmic forces. And Gabriel had just changed the game in favor of mankind. Check, you bastards!
"So you really didn't manipulate our thoughts and feelings in the matter?" Jo asks.
Dean's thinking along the same lines. He's not sure what he'll do if the archangel says that he's actually been pulling their strings. They can't verify it, anyway.
"Only to get you to drink," Gabriel says. "Nothing else. The rest was a ripple effect, the result of one tiny pebble in a pond. Everything from then on will be different from what was originally going to happen. At least, on a big picture scale. The small bits might stay similar, but never the same."
"Thank you," she says.
"Yeah," Dean says, running a hand over his face, tired. "Thanks."
"Don't sweat it." Gabriel twirls his lollipop again, looking at it pensively. As if it held all the answers. "I do have something to gain, after all. Because I love my brothers, even though I can't stand being around when they fight. And humans are fun. I want you guys to have a chance."
"You and Cas seem to be the only ones," Jo says, after a beat of silence.
"There are a few others," Cas chimes in, "who don't hate our Father's creations."
"Well, this was a riveting chat, guys." Gabriel gets up and his expression changes once more—to one of mischief. "But I've gotta go. People to trick, y'know the drill."
He snaps his fingers, as if remembering something.
"Just so you know, as special as this soulbond is, it won't give you a 'get out of jail free card'." He makes air quotes. "Stuff can still kill you dead. A ghost or a ghoul, any of the nasties, anytime. Heaven probably won't let Dean die. But the one of you who survives, should the other permanently croak, will definitely not have an easy rest of their life."
The archangel pauses and Dean swallows thickly. He can't imagine even wanting to live, if anything were to happen to Jo now. For Sam, he'd hang on a while longer, to make sure his brother got to have a good life. Maybe fight the angels, try to stop the Apocalypse. But eventually, he'd look for any and every excuse to go down swinging. He suppresses a shudder.
"The pain you felt, when you were separated," Gabriel continues, "would be ten times more intense. So watch yourselves out there."
With a wave and a nod, Gabriel vanishes. In his wake, the group of three is left speechless. Dean turns to look at Jo and finds her staring at the spot the archangel had occupied. He doesn't know what to say, though, so he keeps quiet. Waits for her to gather her thoughts.
But he has to admit that Gabriel had been the last person he'd expected to have in their corner. Last time they'd seen the guy, he'd been all for letting the Apocalypse unfold. Dean is glad for the change of heart. He can't even think about how things would have been if Jo—and Ellen too—had died.
"I heard your prayers," Cas says, eventually. "But if I'd taken the time to answer, I would have lost Gabriel's trail. And everyone I'd talked to seemed to point me in his direction."
"It's okay, Cas," Jo says. "You got us the answers we needed. Thank you."
The following half-hour, at least, is then spent in a blur of explaining to their friend what they'd been up to. And talking about what's next. Cas, in turn, informs them about his intention to continue looking for God. They make a game plan and decide, upon meeting up again, to teach Cas how to use email and send an SMS.
When Cas takes off to resume his search for the—in Dean's mind—deadbeat Almighty, the two of them are left alone once again. And the silence is stifling.
Dean wants to know what Jo's thinking. But he's too scared to ask. What they'd found out had obviously rattled them both and Dean doesn't know how to deal with the revelation.
Eventually, he decides to bite the bullet. They're a team. That means they have to talk about crap like this, no matter how chicken-shit scared he is. With his heart pounding in his ears, Dean opens his mouth to talk. Then closes it. Repeats the motion a few times.
"Are you... okay?" he finally asks.
Jo turns to look at him with wide and fearful eyes. It strikes him that she's scared too. Who wouldn't be?
"Are you?" she answers, turning the question around on him.
Dean sighs. He really doesn't know.
"It's kinda overwhelming, to tell you the truth," he says. "But I wouldn't change anything. I'd rather let the world burn. And there's only two people I'd do that for. Sam, of course. And now you."
"So you're not... bothered by this?"
"Are you?" he answers, repeating her earlier tactic.
"God no," she says. "I thought you were angry."
"I am. But not at this. I'm pissed as all hell at those winged dicks for being willing to let you die, just so they could get me closer to accepting my role as Michael's bitch. I'm angry that even Heaven is pushing for the end of the world. And they're supposed to be the good guys."
Jo's face clears a bit at his words and Dean turns to face her fully. Takes both of her hands in his, gentle but determined. Kisses her knuckles.
"I was afraid that…" Jo swallows audibly, then takes a deep breath. "When you said that Gabriel manipulated me, that you were angry at how it all turned out. And I'm happy with the way it is now."
"So am I, Jo. I don't want anything to change."
"Good. 'Cause neither do I."
"I couldn't go back to the way things were before," he says. Dammit, she'd misunderstood where his anger had been directed. "And if anything tried to take you again, I'd gank it. Angel or demon, or anything else. In a heartbeat."
"I'd do the same," Jo says. She sounds like she's holding back tears. "Twice now, I thought you were dead. I don't want that to ever happen for real. I can't…"
"It won't. I'll do my damned best to keep kickin'. Through thick and thin, no matter what."
Dean pulls her into a tight embrace and kisses her temple. They stay like that for what feels like a very long time. His shirt has a wet spot just under his collar bone, when he pulls back, which is how he can tell she's been crying. He's also shed a few tears.
With his hands gripping her shoulders, Dean pulls Jo into a kiss. He tries to put all he's feeling into it. All the things he can't express just yet into a fierce, consuming connection.
"Let's go to bed," he says against her lips when they part. He smiles. "Got a big day tomorrow."
Jo laughs and nods.
"Yeah, you're right. Big day."
Hand in hand, they leave the kitchen and retreat to the bedroom upstairs. For the next while, though, they don't do much sleeping. It makes their rest, afterward, that much better.
Whatever tomorrow brings, he and Jo will face it together. They'll have Sam by their side, and Ellen, Bobby and Rufus will be in their corner when the next big threat rears its ugly head. And if they have nothing else in this fight, besides their family, they have hope.
As the saying goes: hope is the last to die.
Well, we've reached the end. Thank you to everyone who stuck with this fic and left comments. Love you guys lots!