Thanks for all the support with this story. I'll have you know, the ONLY reason John is still alive is because someone requested it in a review, because it honestly didn't occur to me before I read that particular review (which was anonymous, but still an intriguing idea).

Ch21: Two Ornery Hound Dogs

"I'm telling you," Bobby's voice carried clearly through the salvage yard to the house, "if we run it this way, we'll have fewer problems in the long run."

"And I'm telling you," Dean's voice answered, "it won't work here. The wires will be too close to the manifold and they'll burn. Then I'll be stuck on the side of the road with an electrical problem while you're here mixing holy water in your beer."

"We'll tie it off, like this," Bobby replied. Sam made his way to the Impala work area. "See? No problem."

Dean sighed. Sam rounded a stack of cars to see his brother leaning into the engine compartment. "No problem as long as that doesn't move. Can you guarantee it won't move?"

"Boy, nothing in life is a guarantee!" Bobby stood back, scratching his head. "But the way you want to do it will make it a bitch if you ever need to get to the wires."

Dean pulled out of the engine compartment. "You know, you're right. Usually I'd just yank the engine if I needed to get to it, but I guess I don't always have that option on the road." He scratched at his chin. "Any ideas on how to keep 'em off the manifold?"

"I done told you," Bobby said in his less-than-patient tone, "tie it off like this."

Dean frowned down at it. Sam stepped closer until he could see into the engine compartment. The motor was in now and there were lots of things attached, Sam even knew the names for some of the things thanks to Dean. It was starting to look like the Impala might be road-worthy again in his lifetime. A few weeks ago Sam would have sworn, not to anyone in this house but to perfect strangers, that the car would never make it back out on the road.

The bundled wires they were arguing over were thick and black. Sam guessed the big bump the wires were close to was the cause of all the concern. "What if you..."

He was about to suggest putting some type of heat resistant material over the bump, but he was cut off by identical glares from Dean and Bobby. "Sam, when you know what the 7-10 cap is for, you'll be allowed to put in your two cents. Until then, there's a fender over there that needs to be pounded out."

"It's my day off," Sam replied. He had a permanent ache in his neck, shoulders, upper back and arms. Who needed a home gym? All anybody who wanted to get into shape needed was a crushed car and a brother and father with the single-minded drive to get it back on the road. "I just came out to see if anybody wanted something to drink."

"Beer," Dean replied instantly. Sam had noticed Dean never turned down an offer to get something for him. It was almost as if he were reveling in all the attention.

"Day off?" Bobby demanded. "Boy, we're all taking two days off at the end of the week. You need to get your ass back to work." Then understanding blossomed. "Oh. That's right."

"We are?" Dean asked, the almost familiar confused look back in force. "Why?"

"Thanksgiving," Sam reminded him gently.

A wide smile spread across Dean's face. "Oh, yeah. That's this week, huh? Awesome. What are we having?"

Sam checked his watch. "Actually, I'm due at the airport in an hour to pick up the lady who is cooking dinner for all of us."

The smile turned into a wicked smirk. Dean's eyebrows bobbed. "Is she hot, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head, Dean could be so predictable sometimes. "Actually, she's old enough to be your mother."

Dean cringed. "Ew. Thanks so much for the mental image, Sam." He shuddered, probably just for effect. "But she can cook?"

"I believe someone once described her stuffing as orgasmic," Sam replied.

A full blown grin erupted. "Now that's the kind of Thanksgiving I need this year!"

Bobby shoved Sam in the shoulder. "Get going, or you'll be late." He moved to stand in Dean's face. "You. Car. Now."

"Don't make me call Dad," Dean threatened, but Sam noticed the grin remained firmly in place.

"Still have the shotgun," Bobby replied evenly.

Sam hurried away to get Dean's beer before those two could really get into it.

Ella stepped off the plane, wondering for the thousandth time if she had totally lost her mind. Jerry had some type of amnesia, again, and she had flown in to meet with the man who once interrogated her about him. Why was she doing this? It wasn't like Jerry was her son. She had never intended to adopt a child that old. It all began as a way to get a little extra money from the state, but Jonathon wanted the kid to be his personal slave. Jerry did not. It had been all downhill from there. She blamed herself for not seeing where it would all lead.

The night Jonathon beat Jerry... She shuddered, though the air conditioning was not too cold. That night had been the longest night of her life. Ella had stayed by the boy's side until he woke. He did not remember her then either and she couldn't blame him, but he had allowed her to remain a part of his life. Jerry changed after the hospital, in some ways for the better but in other ways not. He did not trust her at all and refused to come to the house, but he still allowed her to cook for him and would always take her calls. If it weren't for Jerry, she would probably still be with Jonathon and nursing new bruises every Saturday and Sunday morning. She owed him, in more ways than one.

Now the tall man with the messy brown hair stood at the entrance to baggage claims, waiting for her. Ella swallowed hard as she approached him. This Sam character scared her, there was no denying it.

"Your luggage will be coming out there," Sam told her as he pointed to the luggage carousel.

Ella nodded and headed in the direction he indicated. She waited until her bright green bag with pink polka-dots came around. Ella pulled it off the carousel, turned to hand it off to Sam, assuming he would carry it for her. Sam had a strange look on his face.

"That's your bag?" he asked, disbelief written all over his features. "Seriously?"

Ella nodded.

"Really." He swallowed hard as he held out a hesitant hand for the bag. "Guess you don't ever have to worry about your luggage being stolen, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ella demanded.

Sam shrugged as he led her outside. "I just don't see a thief targeting such a, uh, identifiable bag." He glanced back at her with another shrug. "That's all."

Somehow she doubted that was 'all.' Ella climbed into the passenger seat of the ancient, weather-beaten mini-van. She waited until they were on the road before speaking again.

"Where did you get this, if your car is wrecked?" she asked.

"Dean's car," Sam replied instantly. "And this hunk of junk belongs to Bobby. That's where we're staying."

"How does Dean feel about you and Jerry wrecking his car?" Ella wanted more information and wondered if Sam would give it to her.

"Yeah. About that." Sam tossed her a hard look before returning his eyes to the road. "Jerry is Dean. My dad kind of changed his name."

She glared at the young man driving. He was not nearly as imposing as he had been in her apartment, but she remembered clearly what he had been like. "Changed his name? From Jerry to Dean? May I ask why?"

Sam did not answer for a while, the scenery of the small town flashing past them. "No," he finally said, "I don't think so. It's kind of personal." Then he glanced over at her. "But now he doesn't remember his name was ever Jerry, he thinks it's always been Dean."

Her eyes bugged out so far Ella feared they might not go back in. "He doesn't know his own name?"

"His name is Dean," Sam snapped, a flash of the imposing man who forced his way into her apartment. "I suggest you remember it."

Ella wrapped her arms over her chest, hugging herself. "I'll try," she whispered.

A loud sigh came from Sam. "Look, the only reason I even called you is because I'm worried. I know Dean thinks an awful lot of you, God knows why, and him forgetting you kind of freaked me out." He turned a searching look on her. "I hope he remembers your face."

Ella looked away from his eyes. The last time she saw those eyes they were hard and cold, filled with terrible purpose. Now they still held determination but were softer somehow, almost as if he pitied her and not Jerry. She chewed her lower lip, fighting back tears, the houses and trees moving outside the mini-van unnoticed. When they slowed, Ella took notice of where they were. Sam turned into the drive of an auto salvage yard. The entrance was flanked with stacks of rusting cars.

"Jerry is here?" she asked, her voice shattering the silence between them. "He hates these kinds of places."

Sam gave her a pleasant, though not warm, smile. It seemed well practiced. "He's been warming up to it."

She let herself out of the vehicle after it stopped beside a house. It did surprise her to find an older but very suburban-looking house in the middle of this junkyard.

"I won't do it that way, Bobby. I won't." Jerry's voice carried clearly to where she stood and Ella's heart hammered in her chest. She promised God and his angels, and anyone else who might be listening to her prayer, she would live a better life if Jerry would just remember her.

"Why are you being such a stubborn ass about this?" Bobby's voice echoed through the yard. "It'll work."

"It's half-assed!" Jerry shouted. Ella found she was drawn by his voice and a desire to see he was all right. "With all the work we're putting into this car, why the hell would I do something half-assed like that?"

Ella hurried forward, following the sounds of voices. She found Jerry leaning against the big car he had been driving last time she saw him. The doors were missing and it had no interior. The fenders were on, sanded, primed and possibly bondo-ed. It was not an unfamiliar sight, Ella had seen Jerry miraculously reassemble numerous cars.

"It's not half-assed," an older man with a gray scruffy beard argued, "lots of mechanics do it."

Jerry rolled his eyes, wiping his hands off on a stained rag. "Just because there are lots of half-assed mechanics doesn't mean it's the right way to do it."

The older man groaned dramatically, his head tilting up to the sky. He took a deep breath as he scratched at his head under a stained ballcap. "So what do you want to do? Paint the body off of the frame?"

"No." Jerry shook his head at the older man, and Ella was relieved he looked so good. "But we can cover up the engine and anything else we don't want overspray on."

"With what?" the older man demanded.

Jerry frowned as he stared down.

"Newspaper over the engine and foil on the frame," Ella suggested, moving closer. "Those will work."

"Yeah." Jerry's head snapped up. "That's what I was trying to remember. Thanks." He gave her his killer smile.

Ella tried to smile back, but she did not see any recognition in his eyes. "Excuse me," she mumbled as she turned away. She rushed to the house, unable to hold back her tears.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" Jerry's voice followed her. Ella ran faster, she didn't want him to see her cry. The last time he saw her cry was after he woke up from his three day coma and did not recognize her. Why was it Jerry's amnesia always made her cry? Or was it the fact he forgot her too? It shouldn't bother her so much, it wasn't like she adopted him. Of course, it wasn't like she had the chance to adopt him either. Jerry had himself declared an emancipated minor before she could really consider it.

"Lady!"

Lady? The tears flowed freely as Ella grasped the knob on the front door. She struggled with it as pounding footsteps came up behind her. Finally the door swung open. Ella rushed through, several voices calling out to her. Where could she go? Where could she hide? Stairs. Ella raced upstairs, her foot slipping twice nearly sending her tumbling down. Her hands scrabbled for purchase, catching on a higher stair. Stable now, she bolted upstairs on all fours. At the top, Ella made it to her feet. Other footsteps echoed in the stairwell. She spotted an open bedroom door. Ella darted inside, slamming the door closed behind her.

She dropped down on the closest bed. Jerry's distinctive smell permeated her senses, causing more tears to flood her cheeks. Ella sobbed into the pillow, clutching it to her face. After a while, she noticed someone was rubbing her back in strong, soothing strokes. Ella peeked out from the pillow to find Jerry sitting next to her on the bed.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "So sorry."

"It's okay," he said softly. "Feeling any better?"

She shook her head as she sat up. "Not really," she admitted. "But you are, aren't you? I mean, since the accident?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What did Sam tell you?"

Ella took a deep breath. "Well, he said your car was hit by a semi and you were having some memory problems again."

"Again?" Now his eyes widened. "You mean I've had trouble remembering stuff before?" A quick chuckle escaped him. "That's good. From the way Sam's been acting, I thought it was new." His head tilted to one side as he studied her. "What happened to cause it last time?"

Ella shook her head. "If you don't remember, I'd rather not be the one to remind you."

All softness drained from his face, leaving hard chiseled features. "That bad, huh? Well, that might explain why Sam's been in mother-hen overdrive. Was he around last time?"

Ella shook her head, not trusting her voice.

Jerry slapped a hand on his thigh. "And that would explain the rest of it." The real smile, the one that was so elusive since Jonathon beat him, appeared. "I'm glad you came. I hear your stuffing is awesome."

She swallowed back fresh tears. "You hear?" Her voice cracked. Damn it.

Jerry nodded. "And for some reason, I know I like you. And I hate it when you cry." A calloused thumb brushed the tears from her cheek. "Does that help? A little?"

Strangely, it did. Ella nodded, convinced her voice would betray her again even though the tears had stopped. His sweet, boyish smile reappeared. "Great. Now, am I going to have to ask Sam to tell me your name or are you up to it?"

She cleared her throat, hoping her voice would hold out this time. "Ella."

The smile broadened. "Ella. Nice name." He glanced around, as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Sam's had his panties in a real twist about you since we left the hospital. Any idea why?"

She shook her head. "I didn't think he liked me. At all."

His smile twisted into a deep frown. "Really. Sounds like Sam and I need to have a long talk." He sighed. "Great."

A grin forced its way on her face. "And I know how you love having those serious talks, about feelings and things."

Jerry snorted a laugh. "No wonder I like you." He rubbed a dirty palm over her cheek. "Sam says you're old enough to be my mother. That right?"

Ella cleared her throat. "More like, I'm old enough to be your foster mother, once upon a time."

He gave her a real grin. "Bet I was a pain in the ass."

Ella shook her head emphatically. "No, honey, no." Her hand ran up his arm to grasp his shoulder. "You were a great kid. Honest. No one could have been better."

Now he gave her a strange look. "Then why was I just a foster kid?"

Ella looked away, unable to continue looking in those trusting eyes. "Because you moved out," she finally told him. "You had to." When she dredged her eyes from the floor Jerry was watching her, confused. "It was for the best," she assured him.

"I moved out? Because I had to? Why? What happened?" he demanded, steel in his words.

Ella chewed her lower lip shaking her head. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

"Dean." It was that Sam character standing in the doorway. "Come on, back off. It wasn't her fault. Well, you never blamed her for it."

"For what, Sam?" Jerry asked this time, no demands. He seemed so comfortable here, so at ease. Even with his friends or at work Ella had never seen Jerry so relaxed with anyone.

Sam had a boyish smile of his own. "Let's worry about it later. Ella hasn't even seen the kitchen yet. I'm sure she's going to need all kinds of stuff from town for Thanksgiving dinner." His eyes shifted to her. "Anything you need, just name it. Dean and I are taking the rest of the week off from the car to help you, and Dad and Bobby are taking Thursday and Friday off. They have clean-up duty."

Ella wiped her cheeks down with her hands. "Okay," she said, a little breathless, "let's see how bad it is. Bobby doesn't strike me as much of a cook."

"His chili is awesome," Jerry said enthusiastically. "Sam, think we can talk him into another batch before she leaves, so she can try some?"

"I'm sure Bobby would make some if you want Ella to try it," Sam replied, and she heard the emphasis on her name. He was trying to help Jerry remember her. She needed to keep that in mind. Determined to prepare the best Thanksgiving dinner Jerry had ever had, ever, Ella marched downstairs.

"Sam! Sammy!" A large man burst into the house. He had mussed dark hair and a heavy salt-and-pepper beard. He waved a manila folder over his head with a broad grin over his face. "Sam, you are not going to believe this!"

"Dad?" Sam stopped in the den. "I thought you weren't going to be back until tonight?"

"You did get the replacement hood, right?" Jerry asked anxiously.

"Back of the truck," the man said with a jerk of his head toward the door. "Want to check it out?"

Sam grabbed Jerry's sleeve and exchanged a look before Jerry headed outside. He tossed Ella a wink as he closed the door.

The older man eyed her as he handed Sam the file. "Is this her?"

"Yep," Sam replied, flipping open the file.

"John Winchester," he said, sticking out a hand.

Ella shook it, her hand nearly engulfed by his. "Ella Trumbull," she replied as he pumped her hand a couple of times, his eyes on Sam.

Ella turned to watch Sam as well, curious about the file.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered. His eyes flicked up from the file. "Where did you get this, Dad? Is it for real?"

John Winchester beamed. "It's like a life-long wish come true, isn't it?" he asked.

"I'm going, right?" Sam demanded. "I mean, if it's really a clown, I need to be in on this job."

John slapped his son in the shoulder. "Better believe it."

Sam frowned as he stared at the front door. "What about Dean? I mean, we can't just leave him here."

"Why not?" John asked. "He and Bobby seem to be getting along better, and Ella is here now. Can you think of a better time?"

"Yes, I can," Sam stated defiantly. "Next week, after Ella goes home, the three of us check this out." He scanned the contents of the file again, his facial expression hardening. "A clown. I knew this had to happen someday." He stared at his father again. "You didn't say where you got it."

John shrugged. "Friend of mine, doesn't live too far from here."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You went to the Roadhouse? Dad, you know how those people are."

"Those people are a lot like us," John said defensively. "Besides, you know damn well that Ellen doesn't gossip, not about us."

Sam snorted. "Not where you'll catch her," he mumbled.

"What is that?" Ella asked softly, one hand snaking out for the file.

Sam snapped it closed. "Nothing for you to worry about. Come on, the kitchen is this way."

Disappointed and very curious, Ella followed Sam into the kitchen. It was small, but she had cooked larger meals in a smaller space, so it should work wonderfully. Ella set about cataloging what Bobby had and what they needed while Sam and John spoke in low tones in the far corner.

"Dad!" Jerry bellowed.

"Kitchen!" John hollered, motioning for Sam to put the file away. Sam made a face before placing the file in plain sight on the counter. John tried to reach for it, but Sam batted his reaching hand away.

"He's not going to remember it anyway," John hissed.

Ella opened her mouth to berate him for that comment, but Sam beat her to it with an icy glare which sent shivers down her spine and stole her voice. She could only imagine how she might react if the glare were directed at her.

"There you are," Jerry said as he entered the kitchen. He frowned at the two men. "What's going on?"

Sam tapped a finger on the file. Jerry crossed in front of John to flip it open. "A job?" he asked. "I thought you were out getting parts, not looking for a job."

John shrugged. "I did get the parts, and dropped in on an old friend. She asked me to look into it."

Jerry grinned. "She, huh? Is she hot? Does she have a daughter?"

"Off-limits," Sam and John replied together.

Jerry groaned, rolling his head and popping his neck. "When aren't the daughters off-limits?"

"Trust me, Dean," Sam said seriously, "this is one daughter you really don't want to mess with."

John chuckled. "Her mother scares Sam," he said in a mock whisper.

"She does not!" Sam retorted hotly.

John grinned and winked at Jerry. All Ella could see was how perfectly at ease Jerry was. He finally had the family he wanted, she realized. And she wasn't a part of it. Ella choked back a fresh sob, pretending to go through the meager contents of the fridge again. None of the men appeared to notice.