Author's Note: Despite getting only little feedback on this story, I'm continuing. Like I said before, a lot of people have this story on their alert list so I'm taking that as a good sign.

Dean hadn't left Jo's room all day.

It didn't matter what she tried to get him to get out of bed. All he did was sit against the headboard, pillow behind his back, and stare at the wall. Every time Jo took a break from bar duties or cleaning up the house, she would go check on him.

And he would be doing the same thing every time she went in. He wouldn't even move to the guest room. He said he was comfortable where he was.

The last time she had checked on him, she had finally found him in a different position. He was sitting up, on the edge of the bed, holding the picture of her and her father in his hands. He was just staring at it, like the picture held all of the world's secrets.

At first she had wanted to storm into the room and snatch the picture from his hands. She had let him look at it once but that didn't mean it was his hold, his to look at whenever he wanted. What if he dropped it? Shattered the frame?

She had forced herself to get over her initial reaction and instead asked him if he was ok. He had just nodded at her, like staring at her picture without blinking was completely normal. She stayed in the room for a few more minutes, just to see what he would do, but he just kept staring at the picture, unblinking, unmoving.

Now, he had finally come down. But he had only come down for one thing and one thing only…beer.

He was nursing his third at a table in a dark corner of the bar. She wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want anyone in the bar to recognize him or if he just really wanted his privacy. For all she knew, it could have been a combination of the two. Either way, she had been checking up on him every once in a while to see if he wanted anything else or if he needed another beer. He didn't seem to be bothered by the noise level in the bar or by the other patrons that were grabbing at her left and right, trying to get his attention.

He just kept staring off into nothing and drinking his beer.

"We're gonna go broke if you keep feeding him drinks like that," Ellen said as she wiped down the bar. It was nearing midnight and business was slowing down. Most of the hunters cut out early to keep a good nights rest and the rest were usually regulars that stayed until close.

"Mom," Jo said, a warning in her tone. She wasn't about to let her mother give Dean a hard time about how much he was drinking. He needed it. It had still only been a couple days. Dean was still in the fresh stages of grieving and if he needed a little alcohol to help him get by, Jo wasn't going to object. He had come to her for help and she was going to take care of him. Because she cared.

"Ricky needs a fresh beer," Ellen said, completely ignoring the previous conversation she had started herself. She turned around and grabbed a Budweiser from one of the coolers. She popped the top off with one swift move and then handed the bottle to Jo.

Jo moved swiftly towards Ricky's table in the middle of the bar, but not before giving her mother the stink eye first. Ricky was a regular. As an ex-hunter, he liked to stay involved in what was going on in the supernatural world. He was always hanging around talking to hunters, getting the scoop and listening to stories. Ricky had been through the ringer and it showed. He was still fairly young at forty-five but like Dean, he had been hunting since his teenage years. He had seen a lot and done a lot of things he wasn't proud of, things he only talked about when he got really drunk.

Tonight was one of those nights. He was clearly drunk off his ass but Jo knew Ellen wasn't about to turn him away. Ricky always made it home on his own and he always paid his tab at the end of the week. He was a good customer who kept things simple and to the point, just the way Ellen liked it.

"Here you go, Ricky," she said as she set the new beer in front of him and picked up the old bottle. She had started to walk away when Ricky's hand reached out and grabbed a hand-full of her ass.

This wasn't the first time it had happened and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Ricky always got a bit handsy when he was really drunk and Jo took it in stride every time.

"What did I tell you the last time you did that?" She asked as she spun on her heel to face him. Ricky was smirking at her and answered her question with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I told you I'd break your hand," she answered herself. She set the empty bottle back on the table before moving forward in a threatening manner. Ricky's smirk immediately disappeared and was replaced by a serious look.

"Alright, alright," he said quickly. She stopped short and glared at him for a few seconds. This was always what occurred after he grabbed her ass. She would either threaten to break his hand or start to and he would quickly back off. She never actually did it and hoped she never would have to. One threat usually kept him from trying it again for a couple of weeks.

"You always let men handle you like that?" She heard Dean ask as she walked by him to clean another table.

She looked over at him with a glare, knowing where he was going with that comment. "He's just drunk and lonely. He's a lot more like you than you think," she said swiftly.

"Don't compare me to that asshole," Dean growled.

She scoffed at him. He had only had three beers. There was no reason for him to be acting like this. She didn't grace him with another response and turned away from him, going back to collecting the empty beer bottles and glasses on the table in front of her.

"What the fuck!" She yelled suddenly as she felt another person grab her ass. She dropped the stuff in her hands back on the table and turned around, ready to swing. Dean was standing behind her with only about three inches between them.

"What?" He said gruffly. His eyebrows were knitted but the rest of his face was stony. "I'm drunk and lonely. Why can't I grab your ass too?"

She slapped him before she realized what she was doing. The sound of it seemed to reverberate through the room and everyone still in the bar grew quiet. Her hand stung and Dean's cheek was quickly starting to turn red. Half of her regretted her decision but the good half of her was glad she had done it. She understood he was hurting, but she was going to let him treat her like trash because of it.

"You're not drunk," she whispered harshly, hoping no one else in the bar could hear her. "You're just hurting and trying to take it out on one of the only people left who cares about you." She knew that part would hurt him. A lot. She immediately regretted it but instead of apologizing she turned away from him and almost ran to the empty back room.

A few minutes later she finally heard the chatter from the bar start up again and she sighed and leaned her head back against the cabinet behind her. She closed her eyes and put her hand over them. She was tense, tenser than she had been in a long time. She wished Dean could understand that he wasn't the only one hurting. She was hurting, too. She was hurting because he was hurting. She hated seeing him like this. But Dean was too blinded by his own grief to see that.

It was exactly what her mother was talking about. Dean was hurting her and he didn't even know it. Not really.

Maybe she just needed to get out of her. Maybe she needed some fresh air and a break. She didn't want to leave Dean at his weakest hour but it wasn't like he really wanted her around to help. All he really wanted was alcohol and a bed to stay in. He could probably care less if she was around to try and make him feel better or not. He probably didn't need her hanging around with her schoolgirl crush anyway.

I can talk to Ash, she thought to herself as she let out another sigh. He can set me up with a hunt nearby to help clear my head and let off some steam.

"Don't touch me," she said quickly as she felt the air around her shift. She hadn't heard any footsteps but she could feel someone standing in front of her. She moved her hand away from her eyes and nearly jumped out of her skin to find Dean staring back at her, his whole body only a few inches from hers again.

"I-" He started, but cut himself off. For a few seconds it looked like he was struggling with himself to find the right words and then his face returned to its usual stony look. "I'm sorry. I guess it was just a bit of the green monster."

"Don't make up stupid lies for your behavior, Dean," she spat angrily. He really expected her to believe that he had acted out of jealousy?

"I'm serious, Jo."

It felt like he had gotten even closer to her, if that was possible.

"When I saw him grab you like that, I felt something. It was something I haven't felt…in so long."

She glanced up at him as she tried to ignore the feel of the heat radiating off of him. He was so close to her, just at her fingertips. And he was saying he had been jealous? He was jealous of some old drunk guy that got to grab her ass without consequences? He was crazy.

He was crazy.

"You're hurting right now, Dean. You're not in the right state of mind. You're imagining things. You don't feel anything for me now just like you didn't feel anything for me when we first met."

Maybe a hunt wasn't such a bad idea.