NOTE: This is set right after season 5's "Abandon All Hope" and contains spoilers for that episode. Read at your own risk!
Maybe
Dean watched as the picture was engulfed in flames, his eyes focusing on Jo.
His Jo.
Dean's mind immediately flashed back to his final moments with her. He had never told Jo how he felt; Dean planned to about a million times and in a million different ways, but never found the courage to actually speak the words aloud. With one kiss, Dean had tried to tell Jo how important she was to him, how a day didn't go by where he didn't think of her, how he'd fallen in love with her the moment she'd pressed that rifle against his back in the Roadhouse all those years ago…
Dean's eyes welled with tears as he watched Jo's face finally turn to ashes. He knew he had to make an escape, so he cleared his throat awkwardly, making some lame excuse in a desperate attempt to flee the room. He was careful not to make eye contact with Sam or Bobby as he left, but Dean could feel the pity in their eyes as he walked slowly down the hallway and out onto the front porch.
Dean walked calmly down the steps, but broke into a run the second his feet hit the earth. He didn't know where he was running to, exactly; he just knew he needed to put as much distance as he could between himself and the real world-the world without Jo.
How the hell was he going to live without her?
Dean ran as fast as his legs would carry him and only stopped when he tripped on a stray tire. He caught himself on a rusty old Volkswagen Rabbit on the far side of Bobby's junkyard; he didn't know why, but something about the way the full moon glistened perfectly on the windshield filled Dean with rage. Picking up a discarded pipe lying at the base of the car, Dean beat the car relentlessly: denting the doors, busting the headlights, crushing the hood, and basically destroying the helpless little car in front of him.
With each blow, Dean grew angrier and angrier. "Why the hell did you take her?" he shouted. "You stupid sons of bitches, you had no right! NO RIGHT!" He hollered every swear word and insult he knew at the top of his lungs as he smashed the pipe into the car. He only stopped when a shard from one of the side mirrors flew free and sliced across his bicep, managing to cut through three layers of clothes. Interestingly enough, Dean didn't feel the pain.
Maybe it was because he was so emotionally traumatized that any physical damage to his body couldn't compare to the pain he was feeling inside…. Or maybe it was just because his arms were numb from the cold.
Either way, the cut seemed to snap Dean out of his destructive streak. He sunk slowly to the ground, leaning his back against the car's fender. He looked down at his trembling hands and finally broke down, letting the pent up tears stream freely down his face. Great hiccupping sobs racked Dean's body and left him gasping for air.
He'd never cried so hard in his entire life.
Dean compared Jo's death to the deaths of his parents and brother; not how they actually died, per se, but how he felt after they died. When his mom died, Dean felt like his whole world was spinning out of control, as young children often do when a loved one dies. When his dad died, Dean felt inhumanly angry, and when Sam died, he felt a horrible combination of the two.
When Jo died, he felt something new, a whole new branch of pain that he had never experienced and that words couldn't even begin to describe. Dean was shattered in a way that could never be repaired, not with Bobby's alcohol or Sam's sympathy. Not even Castiel's angelic healing powers could ever make Dean feel entirely whole again.
He was completely and utterly heartbroken.
Dean pulled his knees up to his chest and crossed his arms on top of them, resting his forehead on his forearms as the tears continued to pour down his face. He should've called her. He meant to call. If he would've just called maybe it wouldn't have ended this way… Dean sat with his phone every night, Jo's number already dialed and his thumb hovering over the call button. He thought that by not calling he was protecting her…
He should've just called.
Dean was snapped out of his blame-filled reverie by an eerily familiar voice speaking behind him. "Must say, I never pictured you as a crier." He whipped his head around to find none other than Jo Harvelle leaning casually against the side of the car with a small smile on her face. Dean felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs as he stared, dumbstruck, at the woman in front of him. He scrambled to his feet, watching while the Jo-like being stared at the car, inspecting the damage. "What the hell did you do to this poor thing?"
"Uh, no offense, but didn't you just die?" Dean asked carefully, his hand moving to the knife at his hip. His eyes combed over the creature's body; it looked just like Jo. Dean watched as she ran her hand over a particularly large dent in one of the car's doors. The moonlight illuminated her clear pale skin and glistened on her golden curls; she was even more beautiful than Dean remembered. Every one of her movements had a haunting familiarity that pierced Dean with sadness. How many times had he seen her walking around the bar in the same way she was circling the car? How often had she paused with her hands on her hips to roll her big brown eyes at him like she was doing now? The thing was definitely Jo, but Dean didn't trust it.
"Believe me, Dean, I'm not here to kill you," she said, looking into Dean's wary eyes. Jo gave an exaggerated sigh as she walked towards him with her arm outstretched. "Go ahead, test me." She sounded almost bored. Dean poured salt and holy water on her forearm from the flasks in his pocket, and gave Jo a small cut with the demon knife. He stared at her incredulously and Jo just arched her eyebrows. "I told you it was me, halfwit," she said, suppressing a smile.
Wordlessly, Dean grabbed Jo and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. Jo grinned and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she could. "Oh god, Jo," Dean whispered into her hair, feeling tears flood his eyes once more. The two stood like that for a minute, just holding each other, neither one wanting to be the first to let go.
Surprisingly, it was Dean who pulled back first. He put his hands on either side of her face and smiled, his watery green eyes meeting hers. "Have you gone soft, Dean-o?" Jo asked with a laugh, wiping away the lone tear sliding down Dean's cheek. The two broke apart and crawled onto the hood of the Rabbit, leaning against the better looking half of the windshield.
Dean looked over at the radiant woman next to him; she seemed healthy, happy, and alive, the exact opposite of how she'd looked the last time he'd seen her. Part of her shirt had ridden up when she clambered onto the hood of the car, revealing the soft skin of her side, the same side that had been shredded by the hellhound. There was no blood, no gash-not even a scar from the injury that had ended her life. Jo pushed her hair out of her face and caught Dean staring at her. "What?" she asked.
Dean pointed to her side. "You're okay."
She laughed, a real laugh, and the sweet sound filled Dean with something suspiciously close to happiness. "Yeah, unlike you." She gestured to the cut on Dean's arm. "Seriously Dean, I'm not even gone a full day and you can't take care of yourself?" she scolded. She tugged on Dean's sleeve and he peeled off a few layers until he was just in his t-shirt. Jo pulled his arm closer, inspecting the still bleeding wound. "Well, it's not pretty, but I don't think you'll need stitches. Can I see your knife?" Dean handed it over and Jo used it to cut a strip from her tank top. He recognized it as the one she'd been wearing when they first met.
"No offense, but what are you?" Dean asked, watching as she tied the black fabric tightly against his arm.
Jo pretended to look hurt. "Oh, that hurts, Dean," she said, tying the last knot in his makeshift bandage. Dean looked at her seriously and Jo shrugged as she tossed his coats back. "Honestly, I have no idea. I mean, I feel normal, but I'm not alive. I can't be, right?" Dean nodded solemnly; part of him had hoped that Jo was back, like really back, but Dean knew that would've been too good to be true. He slid his arms back into the sleeves of his many jackets and looked over at Jo, trying unsuccessfully to hide the disappointment in his eyes.
"Hey, don't be so negative; you've got me now," Jo said with a smirk. "And I'm not going anywhere." She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on the crook of Dean's shoulder. He automatically put his arm around her, holding Jo close once again and loving the feeling of her curled up beside him. It felt as though Jo belonged there in his arms.
Maybe that meant something.
The two sat quietly on the hood of the car, listening to the sound of the icy November wind rustling through the trees. Dean didn't know how long they'd been sitting there; it could've been minutes, hours, days… He'd lost track long ago. "Jo, I-I'm sorry," Dean started, finally breaking the silence. "This is my fault. If I would've just-" Jo sat up quickly, putting a slender hand over his mouth to silence whatever he was trying to say. He tried to push her away, but Jo kept her hand in place.
"Shut up," she said. Jo took her hand away from Dean's mouth as his eyebrows knotted together in a frown. "I can take care of myself, Winchester. It was my choice to go back and save your ass." Dean looked like he was about to say something else, but Jo cut him off again. "Dean, you carry way too much shit. The entire world doesn't rest on your shoulders." Dean pressed his lips together and looked down at the rusty car beneath them.
"Hey," Jo said in a softer tone, lifting his face up to meet hers, "you think you're the only one who can sacrifice yourself for someone else. If I could do that night all over again, I wouldn't change a thing." She lifted one hand and rested it against the side of Dean's face. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, feeling a little of the guilt he was carrying drift away.
Dean opened his eyes and he was struck again by Jo's beauty. "I love you," he said breathlessly.
Jo smiled sadly. "I know."
Dean kissed her then; he breached the gap between them and kissed her with all the passion he could muster. The two melded together, never parting for a second. Eventually the couple stopped, just resting their foreheads together. Jo sighed and pulled away, biting her lip with regret. "I need to go." She got up from the car slowly, followed closely by Dean.
"Will I ever see you again?" he croaked desperately.
"Of course, you're not getting rid of me that easy," Jo teased with a wink. "You should fix up that car, though" she added gesturing to the Rabbit. "It's cute and really didn't deserve to be beaten up like that." Dean glanced down at the car, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
Jo turned, as if to leave, but turned right back around when she heard Dean's voice. "Hey Jo, thanks," he said, his voice rough with emotion, "for everything."
Jo smiled. "Anytime, sunshine. Oh, and by the way," she added before leaning in close to whisper "I love you too." She grinned at Dean's shocked expression and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before lifting her hand up and sliding his eyelids closed.
Dean opened his eyes a second later to find himself sitting on the ground, leaning against the VW Rabbit once again. He rubbed his face. That had been one hell of a dream. He must've sat down after destroying the car and dozed off; he hadn't exactly gotten very much sleep as of late. Dean glanced forlornly at the spot on the car where Jo had been sitting only minutes before and felt more alone than ever. She had felt so…real when she was resting in his arms.
But it was just a dream.
Dean shook his head to clear his mind. He stretched his stiff arms and felt the cloth still knotted snugly around his bicep. He frowned as he looked closer. Yes, that was definitely the same fabric that Jo had tied around his cut in his dream. Dean looked around, finding himself totally alone. If he didn't tie that bandage, who did? Dean felt a smile slowly creep over his face as he let himself think about the dream. She said he'd see her again; she said she wasn't going anywhere…
Maybe he wouldn't have to live without her after all.
My first fanfic EVER, so here's hoping it turned out okay! This was originally intended to be a oneshot, but I'd be more than happy to continue it if people want me to.
Feel free to comment – I'd love to hear what y'all think!
P.S. This is dedicated to my friend, Dorit, who introduced me to Supernatural. You're the best girly! Love you!