Bobby Singer: Early 40's

Dean Winchester: 26 years-old

Jasmine Rhodes: 23 years-old.

Puzzle Piece:

BACK ON THE HORSE

Dean looked around the panic room in horror; the walls covered in red eyes - the same red eyes that had belonged to the crossroads Demon he had sold his soul to in order to bring Jaz back from the dead. Slowly, cautiously he stepped inside.

"Jaz . . ." he said again, low and soothingly.

The only sign that Jaz should that he knew Dean was even there was a twitch, Dean probably wouldn't have seen it if his eyes hadn't been glued to him. His body was tense and wired, his hand gripping his pencil tightly enough that they were past white. He was a sight to behold, not the usual groomed Jaz that he was used to seeing; dark hair trimmed, brushed and silky clean, face washed and clean shaven, teeth pearly white, his clothes clean and wrinkle free. Dean would have thought that When Jaz became a guy, that it would be more cause to act like more of a pig. But it seemed to have the opposite effect, Jaz was still the same person, but he took care of himself better when he was a guy rather then he did when he was a woman. It didn't matter to Dean whether or not Jaz was a guy or a woman, just as long as he had Jaz - it sounded cliché and girly, but it was the truth. And now Jaz's appearance was unruly; his hair was longer, messy and full of split end - Dean did not want to delve deeper into the fact that he actually noticed that - his chin was covered in stubble, and his clothes were worn and full of wrinkles - and Dean was sure that he could see a fresh smear of blood on Jaz's sleeve. Dean could see the paleness of his skin, the loss of weight as well as muscle tone; hadn't been frigging eating, wasn't Bobby feeding him for Christ's sake!

Ignoring the eerie Demon eyes that were scattered around the room, Dean sat down beside Jaz, keeping enough distance between them that if something happened he would be ready to move. As he settled down, Jaz tensed up further if it were possible.

"Jaz . . ." Dean said, again in a soft voice.

Jaz's pencil snapped in his hand, the edges pinching the sensitive skin on his palm, but he continued to sketch - his strokes growing harder.

"Go away, go away, go away go away . ." he whispered desperately. "Leave me alone." Suddenly his head turned and he looked at Dean, his hazel eyes dull as tears trailed down his cheeks. "Your death, you're not supposed to be here," he whispered, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "You were torn to shreds; I should have been there . . ."

Dean reached out gently cupped Jaz's face, his thumb swiping away the straying tears. "It's not your fault," Dean said softly but firmly.

The tears stopped instantly, and Jaz's eyes nearly popped out of his head. If Dean thought that Jaz had been pale before, that observation paled in comparison on the hue that Jaz was now sporting at the moment. "Whuh . . .?" Jaz gasped. "Dead," he said faintly.

"I'm not, Jaz, not anymore." Dean told him, his voice still soft. "I'm flesh, and blood, just like you."

Dean cupped either side of Jaz's face and leaned forward, placing a gentle and chaste kiss on hi slightly parted lips. Jaz was frozen, probably from shock. His heart, was beating erratically at a speed he was sure the pump couldn't take. It was painful, and he was sure that it was going to blow and he would be dead. Dean was here and he didn't understand it. He had to be real if he was touching Jaz and Jaz knew that if Dean was something other then himself, Bobby would have finished him off before he even reached the stairs. Dean kissed him again, this time putting a little more pressure into it. It took a second, but Jaz forced himself to thaw out; letting his eyes slip shut and opened his mouth, letting Dean in.

It got pretty heated after that, Bobby quickly went back up the stairs - there were something that he had no business nor ever wanted to see in his entire life. He had fallowed Dean, ready to intervene if anything went amiss. But by the looks of it . . . Bobby shook his head and shuttered; something's he didn't need to be witness to.

Jaz was starving and so was Dean; Jaz had hardly eaten anything in the three months, and Dean had been dead for three months. But Bobby, Bobby wouldn't let them gorge themselves in the greasy food that they craved, and instead made them start off with broth - like they were sick little children.

"This is bull crap!" Dean fumed, glowering at Bobby's back as the other man stood in the front of the stove.

Dean showered and was now clean, he put on a new pair of jeans and T-shirt, his hair was glossy and wet. Jaz had patched up his bloody hands and had changed into a pair of jean, clothes he hadn't worn in three months.

"His cooking isn't that bad," Jaz told; he would know, he had been eating Bobby's cooking for three month's after all.

Dean just gave him a yeah-right look, jumping when Bobby non to gently set the bowl of soup in front of him. Dean gave an innocent smirk and Bobby shook his head.

"Eat it or starve," he said gruffly.

Jaz sat back in his chair; his stomach and he just watched Dean. Everything was going to be normal again, it had to and it made sense that it would. Jaz was no longer going crazy, at least he hoped so; there was still that thing with the guy in the trench coat out the window, something he still hadn't told Bobby or Dean. Dean was alive again, his Body unhurt as far as Jaz could tell, and he looked and acted just like his normal self. So Jaz forced himself not to freak out, pushing all of the hysteria downward. He needed Dean to be alright, to be himself or Jaz was sure he would loose it again. He didn't care that it made him look weak and pathetic; it sounded really stupid, but when into the grave it felt like a piece of him was ripped away.

Finally Dean was done eating as well and he sat back too, taking a swig from his bear. He stared at the roof for a second before his emerald eyes focused on Jaz. Dean gave him a lazy smile, one that always made Jaz's heart pound a little faster, and lifted his foot under the table, placing it in the space on the chair between Jaz's legs. Jaz's eyes darted to the side, making sure that from where Bobby sat in the library he wouldn't be able to see. He turned back to Dean, a slightly shy smile marring his lips. Jaz didn't understand why he was suddenly shy, he had grown up with Dean, have had sex with Dean, he had been with Dean forever - so why was he acting all girly?

Jaz looked back at Dean, who looked back for a moment before sighing and taking his foot back. Jaz furrowed his brows, worrying that he had done something wrong. Dean sat up straight and took a swig from his warming beer and look at Jaz with concerned eyes. Jaz stared, confused as ever by the sudden change it the atmosphere. He opened his mouth intending to say something, anything to fill the still and charged air, but instead he snapped it shut incase he was misreading the situation.

Dean leaned forward against the table. "Jaz," he said. "We need to talk."

This was exactly what Jaz had been dreading - the talk. The Talk always ruined everything, Jaz had watched TV, had experienced that The Talk before, he wasn't an idiot. If that talk happened, then everything went to shit. Jaz wanted to ignore all of it, just have everything return back to normal like it was three months ago. But from the look on Dean's face, Jaz knew that he would have preferred to ignore it all to, but there was something on the man's mind and when Dean wanted to say something he was gonna say it.

So Jaz sighed in acceptance and nodded sadly. "I guess," he sad, real reluctant.

Dean sighed too, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't like this any more than you do, but we can't ignore the fact that I did and came back to life."

"You didn't die," Jaz blurted. "Something killed you."

Dean winced at the bluntness of it, knowing that Jaz was oblivious to the real truth. Dean knew that he should tell Jaz, about everything, knew he was playing with fire when he didn't and knew that when the time came, he would burn. But he couldn't, if only to prevent from how he pictured what would happen in his mind if he told Jaz.

"I think we should go Hunting again," he said instead.

"I, uh . . ." Jaz swallowed, surprised by the sudden change. "I don't think we should."

"What?" Dean said back, now the one that was surprised. "Why not?"

Jaz pursed his lips and glanced away from Dean's piercing gaze. "After all that's happened-" Jaz shook his head. "There are more Hunter's out there, so what's the difference if there's two less?"

Dean looked at him in utter disbelief. "You can't just up and quit, Jaz!"

"Why not?" Jaz demanded, his head jerking up. "Why the Hell not?"

Dean winced internally at the choice of words, but he couldn't blame Jaz for that. "People need us, that's why we do it so people won't have to know what's really out there!"

"They've been doing just fine for three months now," Jaz growled back. "While I was go crazy and seeing things and you were-" he gestured upward.

Dean sat back. "What do you mean seeing things?"

Jaz's shifted away and back so quickly that Dean barely caught it in time, he hadn't realized he had said what he had actually said. "I didn't say seeing things," he denied.

Dean narrowed his eyes, not believing a word of it, but he let it go for the moment. When had gestured that when he was killed that he went to Heaven, he knew it was probably the best time to bring up the fact that he had actually been somewhere quite the opposite. But he didn't and knew that the chance to come clean was lost for the moment. There would be others, he told himself.

"When I lost you," Jaz breathed out. "It was like I lost a piece of myself. I shut down, Dean, and the only reason why I'm alive right now is because Bobby wouldn't quit."

Dean swallowed. "Jaz, what's with the red eyes?"

This time Jaz swallowed and looked away, ashamed. "I don't know, but one day that was all I could see in my head. They're evil and wicked, and I know - just know that they were coming for me." Jaz looked at Dean. "I don't where they came from; but I know it has to be some type of Monster. I haven't seen it before, but I know that it's some how important as disturbing as it is."

And there you have it Ladies and Gentlemen, Dean thought, another opening for you. But again he didn't say a word and just looked at Jaz, no really realizing the damage that he had caused - the pain that he had caused up until this very moment. Why had he thought that Jaz wouldn't go as crazy as he did, when Dean had lost him?

"I'm back now," Dean told him firmly, his hues growing slightly blurry. "And I'm not going any where." he promised.

But Jaz shook his head. "You can't promise something like that the way we live. Why do you think that I don't want to go Hunting any more? I don't know what would happen if I ever lost you again . . ." he trailed off, his dark eyes filling with tears.

"And what do you think would happen if I lost you again?" Dean slipped.

Jaz looked at him in confusion for a second, before he realized that dean must have meant when he died.

"We can't just quit," Dean said, trying to change the subject. "It's a risk we're going to have to take."

"I know," Jaz sighed sadly after a moment of silence, very much reluctant to admit that he was right. And he was of course; you couldn't just not Hunt anymore - it was their life and their job, they were raised into and it was all that they knew.