"In here, Dean. Toward the back. I can hear you knocking stuff down, " I yell through the very heavy door between me and my man, then step back. He won't be finding a gentle way in here.

"Closer?" he asks, banging on something else. Dean is not good with being separated. He would like to find me right now, thanks.

"Yes. You should see a door - "

He comes crashing in after one enormous bang.

"Found it," he says, grinning as he drops the door on the floor. He busted the old hinges when he threw himself against it.

"Like a door was going to stop you," I rush out while I'm rushing to him. I need to feel him. I don't do well with separation, either. "Or handcuffs. You okay?" I grab his hands and notice the bloody finger tips. God knows what he had to use to pick the cuffs.

"Yeah. How'd you get out?"

"You never remember the bobby pins in my bra, baby. Never. Guess that doesn't change." He lays his hands on the shirt on top of said bra and feels around for the elusive bobby pins.

Removing his hands reluctantly, he grimaces and asks, "Is this weird or what? I mean, we've been in the past before, but damn. Am I really that big a dick?"

"Not to me," I giggle. If I don't laugh, I'll scream like a crazy person.

"Nice."

"You're awesome, and you know it," I assure him, quickly kissing his smirking lips. Growing more serious, I clasp my hands behind his neck and keep him close. "I will never let you become him. Never, Dean. Not ever."

"Did you find out anything else?"

"Yeah. Some." I know what he wants to know. I don't want to tell him.

"Where are you? Her. Now-you."

I let go of him and move back, turning away from him slightly. He understands right away that it isn't good news. He stiffens, hardens, contracts. Stock still but for the heartbeat I can almost see.

"Are you dead, Jay?"

"No, but when I get my hands on me, I will be." I'm sorry right away for the joke. He releases so much tension that I'm scared he'll fall.

"I was trying to be ready for you to say yes, baby. Oh, God, I wasn't. I wasn't ready. I never will be. Shit, I can't even think about it. I couldn't breathe, Jay, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't breathe," he repeats, over and over, and pulls me to him so tightly that it hurts. But I won't ask him to let go. Not until he can do it without me making him. This feeling, I understand. This feeling, I know.

He splays his big hands over my back, murmuring into my hair. I just inhale his scent, that familiar breath of whiskey and gunpowder that never really washes from his skin. I lay my cheek against his chest, listening to his heart now that I can. I know his pain. It's an old companion of mine. I've felt it.

I've felt it so much worse.

He really had been dead, this Dean, the one holding me so tightly right now, whenever now is. He'd been in Hell, this Dean, the one mourning the imagined loss of a woman who has not yet come to be. He had really been gone, and I lived that pain, so I get it and he can hold me as long as he wants. He can hold me until he can bring himself to let me go.

"I love you so much, Janie. So much." He drags a deep breath and chuckles weakly. "You have to promise to never die, okay? Because I will not be able to handle it."

He's trying to shake it off, joke it away, but he called me Janie and that means the fear is still very real. Because Janie is the girl he's proteted since he was fourteen. Janie is the child in that picture. Janie goes back to the beginning of us.

"I'm here, Dean. I'm right here. I'm not her. I won't leave you."

"What do you mean? Where is she?"

"On a mission, left this morning. Doing what, I don't know. But she does that a lot. To avoid you, it seems. I mean him. Avoid him."

"Why? I'm awesome. You said so," he says with a raised brow and a cocky grin.

"Yeah, well, she changed my mind. They broke up."

"The hell?"

"He said after Bobby . . . Things change after Bobby. I get cold, you bang random skanks."

"No."

"Yes. I'm debating a preemptive strike."

"Jay, you know I would never -"

"I know you won't. I don't know him. I'm still just thinking about it. No decision yet."

"Baby, I don't believe this shit," he mumbles as he scrubs his hand through his hair, agitated.

"But wait! There's more!" He smiles at my continued attempt at levity. "Guess we just can't quit each other, cowboy. Not completely. We still hook up."

"That's just, what?! You still sleep with me while I'm doing other women? You would not do that. I call bullshit."

"Yeah, Future Me has a lot to answer for."

"Who left who?" he asks, dragging his hand down his face.

"Dean."

"I wanna know. Because I honestly can't see either of us doing that. Over losing Bobby?"

"That's what he said. We went back to Dakota without you, he died, I was alone."

"Without me?"

"Yeah."

"I would never let you go. Not with so much bad shit happening. Not Bobby and not you." He stomps back over to me from where he'd wandered away in thought. A hand behind my neck, he tilts my face up to be sure I can see the truth in his eyes.

"They aren't us, Dean. Not really. Not yet."

"Who broke it off?" he demands.

"I don't know," I whisper, shaking my head as much as his hold allows. "Sounds like it had to have been bad before I left. Why else would I leave you? I hate it here."

"Me, too. Let's go find out what's going on so we can go home."

The camp is different in the daylight, like most things are. Less ominous, more inviting. That might have something to do with the fact that no one is hitting me over the head at the moment, but still. It's somehow homey. But as we walk through the camp like shadows at noon, seeing but trying not to be seen, we notice it's a tension-filled home. Like sitting in your comfortable living room in your favorite chair watching the local news as the tornado warnings spring up for the surrounding towns. Hoping to stay but ready to leave. Or defend.

"They're armed to the teeth," Dean remarks.

"Yeah, I was just noticing that. Looks like they've been here a while, but it must still be danger-"

"Jane? When did you get back?" The question comes from behind me.

"Chuck! Uh, hi!"

"Hi. Did you find any?" he asks, looking up from a worn clipboard.

"Refresh my memory. Find any what?"

"Toilet paper," he mumbles when his eyes travel down to Dean's and my linked hands. "Are you guys back together?"

"Yeah. Back together, Dean? You spent the night in Jane's cabin last night, didn't you? I knew it!" This time, an unfamiliar voice comes in fast from the right. And the woman the voice belongs to is pissed.

"Hey, chill out, lady," my man urges as he moves behind me, not wanting to get smacked by this chick.

"Risa," Chuck provides helpfully.

"Risa," I repeat.

She stops advancing at the tone of my voice, but she doesn't shut her mouth, and she's pointing at me while looking at him. "You forgot to clue me in on your reunion the other night. I though we had a connection, Dean," she shouts, using air quotes for empahasis.

I don't like her.

"I think I want to hurt her, Dean." He grips my upper arms to discourge that thought, but I can feel his smirk without ever seeing it.

Chuck steps in between the angry woman and me, greets her, and is blown off for his efforts. Whether the prophet caught a glimpse of the future or just accurately read the look on my face, I don't know, but he successfully defused the situation.

"Jay," Dean begins.

"I don't want to talk about it," I warn.

He wisely changes the subject by asking, "Chuck, is Cas still here?"

"Oh, yeah," he chuckles but looks a little confused at the question. "Cas isn't going anywhere."

Now, what the hell does that mean?