Bobby Singer: Early 40's

Dean Winchester: 26 years-old

Jasmine Rhodes: 23 years-old.

Puzzle Piece:

ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK

Jaz trailed behind Dean as the Hunter all but ran to the Impala and body flopped onto the hood. He spread his arms, trying to hug the hood, but didn't even come close to it. Dean rubbed his cheek against the sleek surface, relishing in his Baby's company once again.

"I missed you," he moaned, finally sliding from the hood.

Dean slowly walked around the classic car, checking her condition, all the while having contact with it. It was just like he never left, she was as sleek and as beautiful as she was the very first time Dean laid eyes on her. A pleased smile graced his lips as he turned Jaz.

Jaz smiled in return, glad that Dean was pleased about the Impala's condition. It was actually the only thing that Jaz had gone outside for during those three long months. Because where ever Dean had been, Jaz knew that he would be upset if his 'Baby' turned into one of the many other cars in the every over flowing Salvage yard. It was the only other thing that he did besides go crazy and hallucinate.

"I learned from the best," Jaz stroked Dean Ego, causing the man to perk up even more.

This time a grin broke out across his face as he stepped to Jaz, wrapping his arms around the younger man. "I knew there was a reason why I loved you." he dipped his head and kissed Jaz, thoroughly.

When Dean finally pulled back, Jaz looked at him with a dopey grin. "I found us a Hunt,"

"Really?" Dean raised a curious eyebrow.

Jaz nodded empathically. "It's your favorite,"

"It is?" Dean asked, slightly gleeful.

"Yep," Jaz popped out.

"Well?" Dean encouraged.

"Werewolves,"

Jaz crouched with his back to a tree, trying to breathe shallowly. He knew that this was a very bad idea, but Dean had been so excited; how could he refuse? It was dark in the park that he and Dean were in, no even the light from the moon was hardly enough. It had been Werewolves alright, as in plural. The attacks had been to many for just one to be able to do all of this damage, so they had assumed that there had been two. They were right in a sense, there were two, but there was also one more.

They had been in town for a little more than a week now, and had killed both the Werewolves. They were ready to pack up that morning after tying up a few ends, but since it was still a full moon this night they had decided to stay just to make sure. And as it happened there was one more. This one was trickier then the others; the first Werewolf had no idea they were coming, the second confused as to what had happened to the other one; but this one was onto them, knew that they were coming and knew that they had taken out the two before it.

It was smart, way smarter than either Jaz or Dean had anticipated. They had tracked it to the park, fallowed into a trap that it had laid. It was cunning and they weren't expecting that. It had separated Jaz and Dean from each other, the park was dark and quiet, it either made a single noise they knew it would be on top of them before either realized it. They could of course call each other, but that would put both of them in dangers way too.

Jaz held back the gasp of breath that he wanted to let out, but knew it would probably be the end of him. He wished that he could back back in time, back to when things were much easier. Back to when Dean wasn't torn to shreds, to when Sam hadn't tried to kill Jaz, back to when Jaz was a girl - the good old days.

He stared out into the darkness, only able to see vague shapes; benches, trash cans, trees and bushes, the slight gleam of the moon of the still surface of the still pond. There was a rustle of leaves near by, and he pressed himself harder against the rough bark of the tree behind him. There was more movement and it was coming closer; he clenched the nine-mil tighter, his finger hovering over the trigger. A branch snapped underfoot and he held his breath, not even daring to breathe least it be the Werewolf.

How was supposed to know to whether or not that whatever was closing the distance on his was Dean or the Werewolf? He couldn't just jump out and shoot because what if it was Dean? Sure, the silver wouldn't do anything, but it was the bullet that worried Jaz, because if he did shoot, he could hit something vital, killing Dean - that was something that Jaz wouldn't be able to go through again. Jaz was sure he blackout for a second in shock as Dean appeared beside him, seemingly out of the still air. Jaz gasped as air caught in his throat.

"What the fuck, Dean?" Jaz hissed right in Dean's ear, his voice nearly soundless.

Before Dean could say anything there was movement to Jaz's left. Both of them were up in an instant with there guns pointed, they fired simultaneously. The only sound was the last echoes of the gunshot; both were still, holding their breaths as they waited. The Werewolf would definitely know where they were now; Dean slowly tuned around, keeping an eye peeled for any movement. He backed up until he and Jaz were back to back.

They couldn't stay near that tree any longer; as one, they slowly started to move away. Their options were limited; whether they moved into the trees or stayed near the pond, the Werewolf had the advantage. Though in the trees they would have cover, so that was where they traveled albeit slowly.

They stopped once they found a spot that was away from their previous spot, but not too far into the trees that they'd get lost in a panic. To know if the Werewolf was coming, they each took a side of the tree; their guns at the ready, their eyes and ears peeled.

Jaz felt a puff of air brush his ear and before he could move, before he could make a sound the material against his chest tore and in turn his flesh. He couldn't seem to move, couldn't seem to make a sound. The gun fell from his grasp as what seemed like all of his life-blood poured from the slashes. Jaz didn't even have enough strength or mind to cough as blood welled in his throat before overflowing his mouth, and running down his chin. Complete blackness took him before he even hit the ground; he didn't hear the gunshots from Dean's gun, the sound of the dead Werewolf hitting the ground - didn't even hear Dean's desperate plea's.

Jasmine . . . .

Jjassmiine . . . .

W-wake u-up . . . .

N-now-ow-ow . . . .

Jaz blinked his eyes open, the gentle and rough but assistant voice echoing around either him, his head or both. As he looked around, he noticed that he wasn't in the place that he had expected; Jaz wasn't exactly sure where, but he was sure that it wasn't here. The place seemed familiar, but Jaz couldn't quite place it; every time he tried to focus, the edges seemed to over lap and blur.

Jaz had also found the source of the voice that was in his head, but wasn't at the same time. Jaz had never seen this man before, but there was something familiar about him. He had dark curls upon his head, his eyes were that of Liquid Ocean, his chin covered in five-o-clock shadow; but those weren't what was familiar about him. Jaz stared at him hard, his hazel eyes narrowing in concentration. The man stood there, not moving and not saying anything, he just watched Jaz with a very intense stare, his tan trench coat suiting him perfectly even though his stance looked slightly awkward, as if he wasn't yet used to his own skin.

And that was when it hit Jaz like a rock; the tan trench coat. It was the same coat that he had vaguely say when Dean was gone and he was going crazy. It was the same coat that he had seen on that man that he had seen on the hill outside of the window - the man that he had hallucinated. And now he was here - wherever here was - and Jaz was going crazy all over again.

"You're that guy that I've been hallucinating ever since Dean died." Jaz whispered, only now feeling slightly frightened.

"I am as real as you are in a sense," he said back, his throat sounding as dry as his full lips. "And Dean is no longer dead; I thought that you've come to terms with that by now."

Jaz's mouth hung open. "I have,"

Jaz snapped it shut, finally hearing his voice for the first time; it was a familiar voice, one that he had associated with himself for the first twenty-one years of his life, back to when he was a girl - way back before the Witch had cursed him.

"What's wrong with my voice?" Jaz demanded, finally standing up; feeling oddly light on his feet.

The man cocked his head slightly, his eyes flickering across Jaz's body. "I do not hear any discrepancies with your voice."

Jaz slowly, reluctantly looked down at himself too, his hands coming up to his chest and getting a handful. "Why do I have boobs?" he demanded.

"I believe that female Humans have that in their anatomy, yes." the man raised a brow.

"Are you saying I'm a girl again?" Jaz demanded.

"Yes,"

And that was when it hit Jaz like a ton of bricks; he was a girl again. And if he was a girl again, that meant that he was . . . dead. Dead? How could he be dead when he had just gotten Dean back?

"I . . ." Jaz trailed off, not knowing what to say - speechless. "I'm dead."

"Yes" he agreed. "This has happened once before, but you never crossed over fully so you did not change back to your original form."

"What do you mean, I died before?" Jaz asked, still confused as to what in the Hell was going on.

"Three months prior to now," he clarified. "When Samuel stabbed you, killing you. Dean, wracked with grief sold his soul to bring you back, a Hell Hound killed him - sending him to Hell."

Jaz shook his head in denial. "I didn't die and Dean was killed by a Black Dog."

The man cocked his head slightly again, his blue eyes filled with confused pity. "Why do you try to lie to yourself?"

"You're the one who's lying!" Jaz shouted, suddenly angry.

"I do not lie, cannot lie." he said.

"Who the Hell are you?" Jaz demanded. "What do you want form me?"

He shifted from his awkward stance to one much straighter and proud. "I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord, Warrior to God's command. And I am your Guardian Angel."

Jaz gave him a blank stare before he burst out in laughter. "Angel's, God, Guardians - that's all fantasy!" When Castiel's face stayed serious, the smile fell Jaz's face. "You're serious,"

The expression on his face stayed the same a Jaz felt himself deflate, all of his energy rushing out of him. He sunk to the ground, his head in his hands. Castiel's face creased with concern, knowing that he couldn't fail again. Jaz shouldn't have died the first time, but when he had tried to come to his rescue, his brothers had stopped him and he was to late - Dean had sold his soul and Jaz was save by a red-eyed Demon. But he wouldn't let that happen again, he would stay by Jaz's side, there the instant his Charge needed him. Castiel crouched down in front of Jaz, pulling his arms down. Jaz gave no resistance and Castiel lifted up his chin. Wet tear tracks trailed down Jaz's cheek and his eyes were closed. Castiel stared at Jaz.

"I will never leave you again, our souls are together, and we are one." Castiel whispered.

He leaned forward, breathing the breath of life back in Jaz, kissing her.