*Chapter Notes: Sorry this chapter took so long to get up I wasn't sure how to continue it so I pondered on it for awhile. Please read and Review!

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Eventually, the pain ebbed. It didn't end, or even taper off significantly, it just…receded enough that something else could exist in Dean's universe. Consciousness flooded in to fill the empty space, and found that it wasn't alone. Something was drifting alongside him, a familiar voice. Well no, not a voice exactly. It was something inside his head. But it was still separate from him, and speaking words he'd never expected he'd be relieved to hear.

Winchester, you idiot.

He should have been offended. Maybe in some part of his mind that was still focused on hurting like Hell, he was. But at the same time, mostly he just wanted to smile. And judging by the next response, he had.

"Seriously? You're unresponsive for four days and that's what finally gets through to you?" The same voice, but outside his head this time. He didn't respond any further – wasn't entirely sure he could – and a long moment later it spoke again, this time with a note of concern. "Oh, come on, you just got back. Stay with me, Dean."

Putting forth more effort than such a simple task should ever require, Dean forced his eyes open. Not too far, as the light was almost unbearable, but enough that his visitor could see the movement. There was a puff of breath, the relieved exhale of someone who's not going to admit she has any reason to be relieved because she wasn't worried in the first place. The dark patch that was all Dean could see in the brightness shifted, and as his eyes adjusted it coalesced into a human shape. He could feel himself smiling again as he spoke, voice harsh and painful from disuse. "Hi, Jo."

She'd been standing at a tense angle, looking ready to attack, but at the sound of his voice she stopped by the head of the bed – yes, he realized, he was in a bed – and leaned against the railing. "Hi." There was an odd sort of amusement in her voice, a tone that suggested she was mocking his greeting rather than offering her own. "Don't know what I was expecting, but that was kind of anticlimactic."

"Sorry."

It was clear that "in a bed" was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to things that were gradually coming to Dean's attention. "In a great deal of pain" was still there, vying for his complete focus, but he told himself that he wasn't allowed to focus on that until it settled down enough for him to figure out exactly where it was coming from. He also realized that his father and Sam were no where to be seen. Jo must've realized he was wondering that because she assured him "They went to the hotel to catch some shut-eye after I agreed to stay with you for awhile, your Dad wouldn't leave your side no matter what Dean."

"In a hospital" was the logical conclusion from those first three realizations, and the thought that he had no idea why he might be there suddenly ratcheted him up from "disoriented" to "very, very worried." His brain threw up a flag of reference, something Jo had said a moment ago. "Four days?"

She nodded. "Four days since the accident or whatever the Hell that was. You've been just this side of comatose ever since and the doctors have been going back and forth on whether or not they actually expected you to wake up. Not that they'd ever say that out loud, of course. Wouldn't want to worry us unnecessarily." A dry look. "And you're gonna pull it out of my head anyway, so I'll give you this one for free: Yes, I was worried about you. Stop smiling."

It was surprisingly easy to do. Jo had triggered just enough of a memory to snap the last few conscious days – and the pain – into focus. Sam. Bobby. Jo. John. The name alone sent fresh ripples of agony through the wounds in Dean's midsection, tensing his muscles and breaking him out in a sweat.

A cool hand pressed against his forehead. "Breathe, Dean. You're gonna pop a stitch. You can die on your own time, not while I need you."

The spasm passed, leaving the slow, smooth current of pain that Dean could tell was going to be his constant companion for a long time. "Not planning on dying," he grunted. Speaking hurt a little less now, although it was still something he'd prefer not to do for a while. He thought about asking for water, but doubted he'd be able to keep it down.

Even half-dead you're impossible to deal with.

She eyed the clock on the wall with a sigh. "Look, there's only so long I can just sit here and talk to you before I really have to at least let the hospital staff know you're conscious, and I have to report in to my boss of a mother anyway. Which does not let you off the hook as far as giving me some answers is concerned." She fixed him with a severe look.

"I'll be back, hopefully not when they've got you doped to the gills. Not that anything you'd hallucinate is likely to be weirder than the stories I'm already getting from Your dad, Sam and Bobby." she added after a contemplative pause. She quickly bent down and gave him a peck on the cheek, then left.

"Well, I'll be damned." thought Dean. "She totally digs me."

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4 Hours Later:

John and Sam cautiously peeked in the window of Deans room in the ICU, it looked as though he were sleeping so they opened the door carefully and took slow and steady steps to the chairs trying not to make too much noise. Bobby on his way in from parking the truck had a laugh at the way John and Sam were walking, it looked as though they were walking through a snake pit trying to avoid the snakes.

After they had taken a seat he glanced in again and this time saw John holding onto Dean's hand and Sam onto his fathers. Not wanting to interrupt this moment he walked over to the elevator and decided he'd go down to the cafeteria and get some food.