The black town car slid into the parking lot of the motel.

It continued to sit there purring as the passenger door opened, seemingly of its own accord. A moment later a man stepped onto the cheap asphalt. His shoes were black and polished to the point where the sun seemed to shine from them. The grey suite he wore was tailored perfectly to his form. Reaching out, he buttoned the first of the black buttons on the blazer as he got to his feet. While he wore no tie, the black shirt he donned was open at the collar and the first button. If one looked very closely they would see the tops of the inky lines that caressed his chest. His eyes were hidden with black sunglasses that seemed to match his black hair which was slicked back from his features. Still he paused to give it a passing touch with his hand, ensuring that every hair was in place.

With assured steps, the man walked towards the motel room, ignoring the strange looks the few people outside gave him. Reaching out the man's hand locked around the doorknob, turning it. It only turned a little, stopped by the lock, but he kept turning, even past the resistance until with a snap the thing spun completely around. A push from his hand was all it took to open the previously locked door. Stepping into the room, the man looked around at the pristine space. It was empty of any sign of occupancy. Reaching up, the man pulled the dark glasses off his face, walking further into the room. He stopped in front of the bed, reaching down and peeling back the sheets to expose perfectly clean white ones.

The room was far cleaner than a motel of this standard had any right to be.

Reaching out, the man dragged a manicured hand across the sheets, bringing it back to his face. Closing his eyes he placed his fingers at the base of his nose and inhaled, letting the scent fill his nostrils. Opening his eyes, he let his hand drop back to his side, eyes once again casting around the completely deserted room--a room that had been cleaned with something far more powerful than the people who ran the place possessed.

"Damn it! Where the fuck are they?!"

The smell of leather, metal and gunpowder was the first thing Jo noticed.

That and old beer.

It took her mind a moment to figure out where the hell she was. The ground was moving, of that she was sure, but it wasn't swaying like it had been. Now it was moving in one constant direction, pulling her to the side. And she was at a different angle too. Now she was moving but it was to the side and in one direction. She could feel an odd sort of pressure too, at her shoulder, waist and then at her upper thigh and her calves. There was sun as well and she realized that she wasn't in the motel anymore. when she forced her eyes open, she realized that she was definitely in the back of a car. Worse, she recognized the seat she was laying on. Blinking to clear her eyes, she turned her head.

Sure enough, sitting in the front seat, was Dean Winchester.

He didn't look good, not as good as she had hoped considering Michael wasn't torturing him anymore. There was sleeplessness written all over his face. Stress too, as if the world had been dropped onto his shoulders--more than it usually was anyway. His fingers were gripping the steering wheel hard enough that she would be surprised as hell if the thing wasn't dented when he finally let it go. There wasn't anyone in the passenger seat and for a second Jo thought she might have dreamed Gabriel and Raphael up.

"You finally back you miserable bastard?" Dean demanded suddenly, his voice gruff.

"Its nice to see you too," Jo rasped.

Dean's eyes widened moments before his foot slammed on the brake, stopping the car dead in the middle of the street. Jo braced herself for the pain that should have come with impact but it never did. Dean twisted around in the seat, his eyes scanning her body with an almost frantic urgency. Jo wished she could move but she realized that her body was belted into the backseat pretty solidly. All she could do was wait for Dean's eyes to finally land on her face. When they did she forced herself to grin up at him. His eyes widened before they went back to her side and her neck, darting between the two as if she had re-injured herself. But she hadn't.

"Shit, Jo," he looked at her, "sorry, I thought you were--you feeling okay?"

"I'm thirsty," she managed to get out.

"Yeah, Raphael said you might be, hold on," the car moved again, just until it was out of the main part of the road. Dean stopped much more slowly this time before he turned the car off and came around the other side, pulling open the door near her head. In one hand he had a bottle of water which he uncapped to reveal a straw tucked inside. Pulling it out he bent down. Jo turned her head to the water, taking an experimental sip before wincing at the pain in her throat, "you gotta drink something," he said.

Dean hated the pain he saw in her eyes. But there was determination in them too. She didn't nod but she did move her head forward a bit, her lips closing around the straw as she took another drink. He couldn't imagine how much it must have hurt but she drank until she couldn't anymore, pulling away from the bottle and closing her eyes, breathing in as sharply as her damaged throat would allow her too. He'd been up there expecting that when he turned around Michael would be in Jo's body once again. Dean didn't know whether he'd be grateful because that meant Jo was back to being healed or upset because once again Jo was gone and he hadn't even had the chance to say something to her. Not that he had any idea what he was going to say. It was predictable that his first words the girl who had actually saved his ass were curse words. He could just picture the disapproving look on her mother's face.

A look neither of them would ever see again.

Jesus, did she even know her mom was dead? He imagined everything had been so crazy that if she did it hadn't really sank in. And now was not the time to dwell on it either. They had to keep moving. The whole point of Raphael--the damn healer--Gabriel and Selaphiel picking different directions was so that they would lure whatever Demon Lord they felt coming towards them. Castiel would take Sam and he'd take Jo. With any luck they'd have a shot at keeping Jo safe until Michael returned. He had wanted to go with Sam and let Castiel take Jo but Raphael--and Sammy, the bastard--had been insistent. He had to take Jo. So they'd belted her into the Impala as best they could and he'd taken off in his direction, barely even letting his foot off the gas except to make sure that the ride wasn't too sharp.

"What's happening?" Jo asked finally, her voice still raspy.

"Demon Lords," Dean said, "they couldn't wait. We got out as fast as we could," Jo nodded without really understanding, "we gotta keep moving."

"Can I come up front?" she sad finally.

"Jo--"

"Please?" she looked down at her body, "I feel like a hunk of meat strapped back here."

She thought he was going to say 'no' but finally he gave a gruff sort of nod and walked around the car, pulling open the door and undoing the straps on her legs. Closing the door he came back around to the front and undid the bindings on her chest. Looking at her laying there, Dean didn't know how he was going to get her out of the car without jostling her too much. Jo bent her leg, pressing her foot to the leather of the car as she made to push herself up.

"Easy," Dean said, "hold on," he slid his hand underneath her shoulders, pulling her up against him, "get your arms around my neck."

Jo obeyed him as he pulled her from the car, hooking his other hand underneath her knees as he lifted her free. Jo leaned her head against her arm as Dean knocked the car door shut with his hip. The smell of old beer, leather, metal and gunshot was far stronger when she was pressed against his chest. She wished she didn't find the smell quite so comforting but it was the same one she had grown up around at the Roadhouse. It was much better than the incense smell of wherever Michael had taken her and a hundred times better than the petrol smell of the gas station she had almost died in.

"Jo," she looked up at him, "door?"

Jo reached out and grabbed the door of the car, jerking it open. Her wrist strained but it worked and that was an immediate improvement. Dean lowered her into the Impala. He pulled the seatbelt forward but she stopped him with a glare, reaching out and grasping the seatbelt. Dean snatched his hand back before her fingers could touch her. Jo put the buckle in its slot, buckling herself in. Her muscles ached and trembled, feeling like she had never lifted her arms before in her entire life. Strange because she remembered when she had held shotguns and knives and killed with her bare hands before. Dean closed the door behind her and jogged around to the other side of the car, getting in. Putting the car into gear, he pulled back onto the road.

Dean glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't thought that Jo'd be back, not so soon. But there was no doubt about who was sitting next to him. If Dean had to get it down to a word or two, he'd say it was the look in her eyes. Even when Jo wanted to beat him--which was fairly often--she still had this damn kind of smile in her eyes. It was there now, the kind of warmth and excitement that no Archangel would've been able to show. Hell most people couldn't show it either. Now even after everything it was still there, even though she was barely strong enough to buckle her own seatbelt and lift her head up, even though she had been possessed by an Archangel he was sure she'd still smile like she always had. the thought, for some reason Dean wasn't quite sure of, made his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

"Sorry about calling you a miserable bastard," Dean said, "i thought you were--"

"Michael?" Jo supplied. Dean gave a curt nod, "I'm guessing you two aren't getting along all that well."

"Yeah, well, the dude's got too many people kissing his ass as it is," Dean said trying to keep his eyes on the road instead of looking at her all the time.

"And what? you think I kissed his ass?" Jo demanded, feeling her hackles rise.

She didn't know why she was picking a fight with him. From the exhaustion written plain on his face, he wasn't having an easy time with what was happening either. But he had come out the other side fine, like he always did. And what about her? First time they'd hunted together she'd gotten herself fucking kidnapped, then kidnapped again and then she'd gone ahead and almost died. In the world of proving people wrong Joanna Beth Harvelle knew she was way behind. Proving him wrong, proving Bobby and Sam and her mom--

Reality slammed into Jo like a ten ton truck, expelling the air from her lungs. Her mom was dead. Between being out like a light and being used by Michael she hadn't had time to think about it but now reality careened into her. Ellen had stayed because she'd up and died before she'd been able to finish the job. And now her mom was dead. The fact that she could be sitting in the car, weak and broken as she was, and Ellen was just, well, just gone, it was enough to make her head spin. She'd told her--God how many times had she told her that she wasn't cut out to be a hunter but Jo had refused to listen. Refused even when her mother had been right about everything else. Don't wear those new corduroys on your first day of school, its ninety degrees outside. Don't go kissing the Johnson boy behind the toolshed, he's no good for you. Don't go thinking about those Winchester boys, especially not Dean. Don't go being a Hunter, you'll get yourself killed. She'd been right about everything and who was dead now? Not her, Ellen was. Ellen was dead. Her mom was gone--

"Jo! Jo," Dean's voice ripped through her panic laced thoughts, "damn it Jo--what's going on?!"

"M-my mom," she stared at the road, her throat tight and her eyes burning, "she's--she's gone."

She looked half crazy and more than half dead and Dean felt something deep inside him crack. Sammy was right--as Sammy tended to be in the most annoying way possible--he was shit at dealing with emotions. Not just his but Jo's too. He could order Sam to get his panties out of a bunch and act like a man but looking at the woman sitting there Dean knew that wasn't going to work. Not here. Not like this. But what the fuck was he supposed to do with her? What the hell was he supposed to say to her to make her feel better? The idea of pulling into a junk yard, handing her a crow bar and an old junker and telling her to 'have at it' crossed his mind before he dismissed it. She wasn't in any kind of shape to be beating a damn car.

"Yeah," Dean found his voice hoarse but at least it was coming out, "she's gone," Jo inhaled sharply, shakily, "took those bitch Hell Hounds with her too. She saved all our asses. Sammy and I wouldn't be here without her."

"I tried to get her to leave--"

"I know," Dean said quickly, "Hunters like Ellen--like you--you don't do what your told."

"And you do?" Jo questioned, her eyes moving to him.

"Never said I did," Dean said, "its what makes a good Hunter. You gotta have that fight in you."

If Jo had any kind of sense she would have realized that Dean was distracting her. It was the only thing his mind could come up with. Distract her from the pain and the worry and, most of all, the thing that would probably have her freaking out and getting injured further. They shouldn't have been moving her at all and without Raphael and the bastard's damn necessary healing powers, Jo was going to die. She couldn't. Not before Michael got there and she got fully better. Viciously he realized he didn't give a damn if she wanted to go to her mom or just to give up, he didn't care. If he had to pull over and do fucking CPR until Michael got back then that was exactly what he was going to do. Dean saw her eyes go to the road as she fell silent.

"So, you gonna tell me what Heaven's like?" he said going for the first thing that he could, "or am I gonna have to come up with the pretty picture myself?"

"What makes you think I went to heaven?" Jo asked looking at him.

"I don't think Michael's making trips to Hell," Dean said.

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to bring that up," Jo said after a moment of silence.

She saw Dean's fingers tighten on the steering wheel and couldn't help but think if he gripped that thing any tighter he was gong to break the damn thing. She saw all the signs of an angry Dean Winchester. The flare of his nostrils, the shift of his jaw, the clench of his hands against the steering wheel. She had a feeling if he could he'd be hitting something too. He was pissed off but at what she wasn't sure. A good part of her thought he was pissed at her. At what she'd agreed to do But he'd never say it. Not when she was half dead in the passenger seat of his Impala. Not after she'd almost died and lost her mother and all the other crap that'd happened between them. He was trying to protect her and in some sick, twisted kind of way that was the most annoying thing of all. Especially because every single time she tried to prove to people--to him, always to him--that she didn't need protection she wound up getting kidnapped or killed or used as a Vessel.

"Yeah," Dean said, his hand shifting against the wheel again.

"So you gonna break that thing in half or are you gonna tell me what's got your panties in a wad?" Jo questioned glaring at him.

Dean's head snapped towards her but Jo returned his gaze, too tired and too hurt to care about what she saw in his eyes. She supposed that her stomach would always flutter when she looked at him but one of the advantages of being so badly hurt was that she could easily blame it on the injuries. Was it her stomach fluttering or internal bleeding? Was her heart pounding because she was sitting in the front seat of the Impala next to the boy of her dreams or because she had recently been almost blown up? Was it his eyes that were making her knees feel weak or the fact that she still could barely stand? The rational part of her told her this pity party wasn't getting her anywhere but the rest of her far preferred being able to blame the symptoms on something other than that undefinable Dean-smell that always made her knees go weak.

"He's been after me and Sammy for months. We've had stomach cancer, vindictive Archangels--hell I time traveled and still the answer was always 'no'. There isn't anything good about being possessed--no matter what you're being possessed by. Damn it didn't they teach you anything--"

"Oh well thank you Mr. Demon Hunter," Jo snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "next time I'm dying and I get the opportunity to get back in the fight I'll keep that important lesson in mind!"

"Yeah, well--good!" Dean snapped fumbling for the right angry words.

"Good?" Jo demanded, "unbelievable. You know, there's more at stake her than your damn ego!"

The shout seemed to be Jo's tipping point as she began to cough, pressing a hand to her mouth. If she had been better, Dean was sure she would have doubled over. He didn't need to look to know that there was blood in her palm. Like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him, all the anger he'd felt at her and her decision to allow Michael to take her vanished. He quickly pulled off he road, putting the Impala into park before turning to her. An apology was half on his lips but it would have to wait. There were more pressing things at hand. Her coughing quieted but her hand remained pressed tightly to her mouth, her body straining against the seatbelt that held her in place against the seat. Dean quickly reached into the Impala's ancient glovebox, pulling out napkins he always made fun of Sam for keeping stashed in there.

"Here," he said quickly pulling her hand down. Trying not to look at the red collected in her palm, he pressed one of them to her hand in an effort to clean up the blood, "it'll be--"

"Easier to breath," she said, closing her hand around the napkin before wiping her mouth with the part that wasn't red, "not a lot of blood," she took a breath, "its harder to breathe," she said, seeing no point in lying.

"Michael had to make a quick exit," Dean said, "none of the Archangels were expecting you to make it," his lips quirked in a humorless smile, "sons of bitches."

"Yeah," Jo echoed, fixing him with what could have been a look of amusement if the only color on her face hadn't been from where the blood stained her lips.

"That's it," Dean said putting the car into drive.

"What's it?" Jo demanded.

"Demon Lords are coming after you as Michael's Vessel," he said, "we split up to keep you safe and we're supposed to keep moving but--" he stopped.

"But you think if we keep moving I'm gonna die before he gets back," Jo said.

"We're finding a place to stop for the night," he said turning the car onto the road.

"What if they find us?" Jo asked softy.

"We're going to salt that place to hell," Dean said, "and pray that works as well on Demon Lords."

Jo smiled faintly, amused at the idea of Dean Winchester praying for anything.

"Keep driving," she said instead.

"No," Dean said flatly.

"Yes," Jo said, her eyes glinting.

"No way. We're getting somewhere stationary and we're bunking down there. I'm not keeping you moving," Dean said.

"If the Demon Lords get me its not gonna matter much is it?" Jo asked, "keep driving, at least for a little while," she glanced around as if she could see them with her limited range of vision.

Dean let out a breath, hating that there was any sort of truth to her words. He told himself he didn't want to start up another argument with her, not when she was so close to being hurt even worse. Not after everything. He told himself that as he drove past the station that announced offers for lodging, gas and food. He also told himself he didn't feel a jolt at the small smile that played on her red lips. She shifted slightly, leaning her too heavy head against the side of the car, barely having the sense to lock it. Her eyes began to pull shut, dragged by fatigue and the desire to do nothing more than go to sleep.

"Hey, hey!" Dean's voce was low and unnecessarily loud, "we keep driving you gotta talk," he said "you know better than to go to sleep now."

"What am I supposed to talk to you about?" Jo asked, forcing her eyes open, knowing he was right.

"I don't know--" Dean looked at her, "how ugly is Michael. Tell me the bastard's at least ugly."

"You really don't want to know the answer to that," Jo said, thinking of how he had looked when she first saw him, "you want me to tell you how stupid the look on your face was Michael threw you across the Chapel?"

Dean looked at her with a glare but Jo was sure she saw a smile somewhere in there.

They drove until the daylight faded to dusk. Finally Dean pulled into a motel and Jo found she was too exhausted to argue with him. He got them a room in the back, where he could carry a half dead girl into the room without looking completely suspicious. There was enough salt in the trunk to keep them safe--or as safe as they could be. Jo undid her seatbelt as Dean came to the other side of the car, opening the door and pulling her into his arms. Jo hissed at the unexpected pain, though she knew Dean was being as gentle as he could.

"Sorry," he said gruffly.

"Its fine," Jo said.

With a nod he turned and walked to the motel room, kicking open the door and stepping inside. A quick kick of his foot and the door was closed. He got her on the bed as carefully as he could and though she felt the same pain, she refused to make a sound. Dean set about salting the room as Jo watched from the bed, her limbs too heavy to move. When the salt was done, Dean flipped open his cell phone and punched in the familiar speed dial key. The phone rang as he waited for it to connect. Was he supposed to let Jo sleep or was he supposed to keep her awake? When Sammy had injuries like this--or when he did--they were in the hospital. Not in a motel like this.

The phone connected.

And suddenly Gabriel was in the room.

That was all Dean got before his jaw was throbbing and his back was against the carpet, his cell phone in the hand of the Archangel. Still in jeans and a t-shirt the hand that didn't hold Dean's cell phone held a half eaten candy bar--the other half of which was still in the Archangel's mouth if his cheeks were any indication.

"No!" Gabriel said, mouth full.

"Dude! Chew before you speak," Dean shot back.

"I said no. Bad human," Gabriel said, "cell phones? I know your little buddy makes you think that we don't know how to use these but here's a newsflash. Not all of us are technologically stupid," he shut the thing off and took the battery out, "no cell phones."

"Dean?" Jo's voice came to them, both turning to see the blond girl trying to push herself up.

"Oh shit, she's awake," Gabriel said, "you look even worse."

"Thanks," Jo said with a roll of her eyes as she pushed herself onto her forearms, "you're shorter even short from this angel," she said looking at Gabriel.

"Touché" the Archangel said coming over, "so, Joanna--"

"Jo," Jo cut in angrily.

"Jo," Gabriel said as Dean pushed himself to his feet and walked over/.

"What are you doing here?" Dean demanded, "I thought we were supposed to split up to keep her and Sam safe."

"Yeah, there's been a change in plans," Gabriel said.

"What the fuck do you mean? Where's Sam and Cas?"

"Oh they're together," Gabriel said, pausing with a smile at how that sounded, "but your brother's not so hot on the Angel juice. Selaphiel's off kicking ass and finding Demon Lords. Raphael's trying to help--trying being the key word--and I'm here to keep your Angel girl alive."

"Isn't Raphael the healer?"

"Yeah. He's also the one who wanted to jumpstart the apocalypse. So you get me. Relax," Gabriel said with a grin, "I'm a professional remember. Just call me Dr. McSexy."

"Do not call him that."

I just had to have more Gabriel. Dr. McSexy is, of course, the tv show in that episode.

So who saw 'Legion'? You know I kind of liked it, not that much but I did like their Michael. But their Gabriel was AWFUL! I like the Supernatural Gabriel better, I hope he's gonna come back to the show this season (soon)

Next time Michael might be coming back (maybe) but we get another taste of the demon lords and a new Archangel. Remember you review, I update!

So please review!