After a few shots of their finest whiskey, Dean had told them the whole story, had told them every detail they didn't know. He told them everything that had happened after Jo's near death. He had told them about finding the rings, about the idea of letting the devil into Sam's body. He told them about how it went wrong. Wrong, at least, right up until the end.
He could barely contain his sobs when he told them the part where Sammy, the devil still in his body, has fallen down the whole to hell, never to return again. Ellen had lined up a few more shots for him on the bar and went back to the kitchen. There was something in Dean's eyes that told her he needed to speak to her daughter alone.
Ash had gotten the hint a few minutes later as well and had looked himself in his lair.
Dean took his shots down one at a time before turning to face Jo fully. The pain in his eyes almost ripped her heart apart. She wished at that moment, more than any other time that she had met him, that she could do something for him. But she tried not to let the pity show in her eyes. She knew that wasn't what he was looking for.
She didn't really know what he was looking for. After she had made it back barely alive from their last hunt together, Dean hadn't said more than two words to her. She suspected it was because of guilt. He probably blamed himself for her brush with death. And he handled that guilt by having nothing to do with her.
"You know," He cleared his throat and looked down at his dirtied and bloodied hand on his knee. "Before he…" He paused again. He couldn't say it, she realized. "He told me that if things went bad, he wanted me to go out and get myself an apple pie life. I know he probably meant Lisa…" Dean trailed off again, his eyes faraway in thought.
Jo simply raised her eyebrow. She had never heard of this Lisa woman and she had never heard of Dean wanting an apple pie life.
"And Ben," Dean began again. "But I don't want them. I don't need them." He shook his head and the look he was giving her would have made her knees melt if she was standing. It was the look she had been wishing to see sent her way since she had first met him. But it never seemed like the right circumstances.
She had imagined all kind of scenarios for this moment. Everything from him saving her again to what he would have done if she had actually died. Some of the stuff she could come up with in her head was really fucked up. But she couldn't help it. She loved him even though she had never said it out loud to anyone. She loved him to the bottom of her heart.
The past few months she had tried to get over him. She had tried to live her life to the fullest without thoughts of him. Half of it was because she knew everything mind end at any minute and half of it was because she was too worn out. Pining after him and always worrying and thinking about him wore her out more and more every day. The past few months had killed her because she hadn't heard from him.
She told herself she had to understand why he hadn't called. But then again, Sam had found the time to call a few times. Sam had given her and her mother the details. He had told her in secret everything she needed and wanted to know about Dean. Some of it she hadn't liked. And she definitely wished she could have been with him for some of it.
And now here he was, sitting in front of her looking like shit. She couldn't have asked for more.
Except maybe for all his pain to go away.
"We don't have to talk about that now," she said quietly. She reached out carefully and laid a hand on his shoulder. He didn't look up from the spot he was staring at on the floor. He was probably still thinking about Sam.
"Let's go get you cleaned up and into bed. Here," she shoved the last shot of whiskey at him. She knew he would need it. She watched patiently as he slowly looked up, blinked at the site of the shot, and then picked up and swallowed it in one gulp. "Come on," she encouraged again. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and stood from her bar stool. Her hand slid down his arm and latched onto the hand resting on her knee and she tried to pull him to his feet. It took a few minutes. He had to realize what she was doing and cooperate before she could even get him an inch off the stool.
When he was on his feet, she draped his arm around her shoulders for added stability. He was heavy but they made it to the stairs. He was so out of it, lost in his own world. It scared her but at the same time she didn't expect anything less. How else were you supposed to act after losing your own flesh and blood?
She had probably acted that way when her father had died. She couldn't really remember now. She expected it was much the same situation.
"You'll never believe what Ash did the other day," she found herself saying. She forced a grin onto her face before she looked up at Dean. He showed no knowledge that he was listening but she continued anyway. "He convinced some seventeen-year-old girl into his bed…." She trailed off for a few minutes and giggled a little to herself. "It was three in the morning when her daddy showed up lookin' for her. Momma had to aim the shot gun at him so he'd let Ash go. It was not a pretty site."
She turned her smile up at him again and to her surprise he was looking down at her. His eyes were trained on her mouth and she tried to keep her heart from skipping a beat. It wasn't right to take advantage of a man who had just lost his brother.
She told herself that's why she looked away.
"Here," she steered him towards a closed door on the left when they got up the stairs. "This is the best extra bedroom." She opened the door with her free hand and continued to lead him inside. The springs in the bed squeaked when Dean let himself fall onto it. She was grateful to have his weight off of her and stopped for a few seconds to roll her shoulders.
"I'm gonna get some water and stuff to clean up your hands. Stay here." She watched him for a few seconds before she actually left the room. He was back to staring at the floor. She wanted, no needed, to help him out of this. She just wasn't sure how to yet.
She would start by giving him some pain killers and washing him up a bit. And then she would make him sleep for a while. It was a start and it would allow her to figure out what she was going to do for him the next day and the day after that…
When she came back to the room, he wasn't staring at the floor anymore. Instead, he was staring a picture frame in his hands. And smiling down at it.
It was only when she got closer that she realized it was an old picture of her and her dad. Way back when, she remembered, this had been her room. And that must have been a photo that was left behind.
"You were cute when you were younger." He voice was raspier than normal and for a second she thought about getting him some more whiskey. But that could wait. At least now he was talking again and not in his own little world.
"You're gap teeth are the best part."
She mock glared at him as she sat down next to him on the bed and put the bowl of water on the night stand.
"I'm glad I grew out of that stage." She took a quick peek at the photo and shuddered. Her hair was almost white it was so blonde and it was up in pig tails. Her dad was bent over with his arm around her shoulders and she had a big stupid grin on her face, her tongue sticking through the hole where her two front teeth had been. She looked like an idiot.
"That was three months before he died," she found herself saying. She shuddered and grabbed the picture from Dean's hands and put it on the night stand. "Let me see your hands." She didn't look up to see his reaction. She didn't really need to. He was back in his own little world again because she had fucked up and mentioned death. She was going to have to watched what she said from there on out. Any little thing could remind Dean of what had happened and what he had lost.
"This might hurt," she whispered soothingly as she dipped the white wash cloth into the water and rung it out. She pressed it gently to his knuckles and started wiping way the dirt, grime, and blood.