A/N: So I know it's been way too long since the last update. My apologies. This one is a little short, but it seemed like the right place to end this chapter. Thanks so much for reading. Enjoy!

Chapter 26

Dean rang the doorbell, the terrier tucked under his left arm yipping loudly in response to the bell. He saw the curtain on the door pull back and Jenna's face appeared. A loud scream came from within as the curtain fell back into place. The door flew open, Jenna running out.

"Kinzie!" She shouted as Dean handed the dog to her, grinning in spite of himself. The dog went berserk licking at her face and yipping happily. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again. I'm so glad you're okay." Dean saw tears glistening in her eyes and thought it odd someone so tough could be reduced to tears over an animal.

Dean cleared his throat. "Well, uh, I should get back." He turned to walk back to the Impala.

"Wait!" Jenna called taking a step toward him, still cradling the dog in her arms. "Thank you, Dean. Really, I don't know what I would've done if-"

"Don't worry about it." Dean interrupted, "It's the least I could do after all you've done for MJ."

They just smiled at each other for a moment, neither saying anything until Dean couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"Well, I really should-"

"Why don't you come in? Just for a minute, have a cup of coffee. Please, it's the least I can do."

Dean sat on Jenna's couch, scanning the small room, taking it all in while he waited for her to return. She had gone to pen Kinzie, after quickly realizing the dog was simply not going to calm down for a while. When the dog had nipped at her owner's feet while she was making the coffee, Jenna had scolded her, without any real conviction and excused herself to take the dog upstairs. Dean quickly grew antsy while awaiting her return and stood, strolling around the room, looking over all of her photos. Jenna with a group of young women, all laughing, their martini glasses raised in front of them. Jenna in a graduation gown, with who he assumed were her parents flanking her, smiling proudly. Jenna with two young blonde girls, hugging them close. Her nieces, maybe? Dean felt a pang of jealousy in his stomach that he quickly pushed away as he came across a photo on an end table near the stairs. This one contained a smiling Jenna, lounging on the beach, the arm of a man draped over her shoulder. She looked happy. He studied the man's face, noting his reluctant smile and wondering how anyone could feel less than ecstatic to have his arm around Jenna.

"That's Jarred. My ex." Jenna said as she made her way down the stairs. Dean turned at the sound of her voice. "It's weird that I keep the photo out, right?" She asked.

Dean shrugged. "I'm really not an expert on normal."

Dean followed her into the kitchen, taking a seat at the kitchen table while she poured the coffee.

"My roommate, Tiffany, wanted to burn that photo after we broke up." She laughed as she brought the cups of coffee to the table. "She wanted to burn all of his belongings, too." She shrugged, taking a seat across from him at the table. "What would that prove? Besides, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of the picture. It's not every day my hair looks that good." She grinned, bringing her mug to her lips.

"So, this Jarred, why did you think he had something to do with your dog being taken?" Dean asked.

She just looked at him for a moment before heaving a huge sigh and standing up. She strolled to the cupboards and pulled out a big bottle of Irish Crème. "If we're going to have that conversation," she said, opening the bottle and pouring a liberal amount in each of their cups. "then we're gonna need to Irish these up." She said with a grin.

Dean smiled back at her. "Well, hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere."

She sat back down, taking a large sip of her coffee. "Perfect." She muttered before looking back up at Dean. "I broke up with Jarred two months ago after I found out he was cheating on me with one of my co-workers. He had been living here, and had just lost his job, so when I kicked his ass out, he had to move back in with his parents. He was none too thrilled with that. He kept apologizing and begging me to take him back, I think mostly because he didn't want to live at home anymore." She paused to take another swig. "Anyway, when the begging didn't work, he got mad and accused me of replacing him, moving another guy in here, which I found hilarious since he was the one who cheated. I guess he decided he needed to keep tabs on me because I caught him watching the house last week from his car. He parked across the street and thought I wouldn't see him. Moron."

She looked up at Dean, blush creeping up her cheeks. "Jesus, listen to me," she said, setting her cup down on the table. "Do I sound bitter or what? I'm sure you wanted to hear all that."

Dean shook his head. "No, it's okay. I asked. So you thought maybe he stole the dog to try and force your hand?"

Jenna shrugged again. "Who the hell knows. He's clearly not mentally stable. It's just the first place my mind went when it happened. I was obviously wrong." It was quiet for a few moments while they both drank their coffee. "So who did take her? And why?"

"Oh, uh," Dean silently scolded himself for not thinking to come up with a cover story on his way here. "Just some yahoos who were stealing dogs and selling them. Idiots, really. We took care of them."

She studied his face for a long time. Dean shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Well thanks for that." She said finally. "I owe you one."

"You know," Dean said, straightening in his seat and leaning across the table. "Not that I mind, but why did you call me? I mean, with your job, you must have cop friends. Why not just call in a favor from one of them?"

Jenna sat very still, just staring at Dean. Then she abruptly stood and without a word, gathered up their coffee cups, placing them in the sink. Her expression gave nothing away, and Dean was just beginning to wonder if he had offended her when she turned back to the table holding a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses.

She sat back down without a word, pulled her long, dark hair back in a ponytail, and set to work pouring them both glasses of whiskey. She slid a glass across the table toward him, eyeing him expectantly.

Dean got the impression she was waiting for him to push the glass back toward her and walk out. He met her gaze and lifted his glass, holding it out in front of him, waiting for her to raise her own. Jenna gave a small smile as she clinked her glass with Dean's, taking a long pull before setting the glass down and sighing. She slouched in her chair, and Dean found himself mesmerized by the way she drew her tongue along her upper lip.

"What was your first impression of me, Dean?" She asked, making Dean finally pry his eyes away from her lips and look up.

He cleared his throat. "I thought you were tough. Somebody people know not to mess with." Dean responded honestly.

She lifted her glass again, pointing a finger at him. "Exactly." She took another sip, driving Dean toward madness with another swipe of her tongue over her upper lip. "I have to be a hard ass, 24/7. It's how I'm good at my job. It's what people expect and it's how I'm able to get what I need, when I need it. If I call my connections at Chicago PD and show emotion…ask for help with something personal, it undoes five years of making a name for myself." She took another drink and shrugged. "I don't really care what people think of me, that's not what it's about. But I do care about making kids safe. And the best way I can do that is for Judges, cops, attorneys and anyone else in a position to help these kids to see me as a persistent, relentless, overbearing nag who will stop at nothing to get what she needs."

"So you're a bitch?" Dean asked without missing a beat.

Jenna nodded, sliding her glass back and forth across the table between her palms. "I'm a bitch." She said, not looking up.

Dean watched her for a moment. She chewed her lip, her eyes on her glass as she slid it back and forth. She spoke as if her reputation didn't bother her. That it was truly what she wanted, but Dean could see beyond her words. He found he could read this woman like a book, and right now he was getting the message loud and clear: She wasn't a bitch at all. She had a heart of gold and it was killing her to have to pretend she didn't care. To be strong all the time for the sake of those around her. He stood and spun his chair around, pulling it around the table and placing it close to her side. Then he sat, straddling the chair, his face inches from hers.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret." He started, leaning in closer. She finally looked up at him, her honey colored eyes boring into his. "I'm a bitch, too."

She grinned, shaking her head, looking back down at her hands. "Something tells me that 'bitch' is the last word that comes to mind when you get through with someone."

Dean shook his head. "Maybe not that word, but uh, I get what you mean. You gotta put on the brave face, act like none of it bothers you." She slowly looked back up at him. Dean leaned in closer. He could smell her perfume, or maybe shampoo, lavender and lemons. He was surprised at himself for being able to place it. He breathed it in, before continuing, barely more than a whisper. "Be brave for all of them. Protect them no matter what."

She nodded, the movement bringing her face closer to his.

Without consciously deciding to do so, Dean found himself closing the small distance between them. He breathed, "You're not a bitch," just before his mouth found hers, pulling her into a tentative kiss.

Dean kept his hands firmly on the back of his chair, until Jenna gave a small, satisfied sigh into his mouth. Elated and encouraged Dean deepened the kiss, running the tip of his tongue over her upper lip, tracing the movement she had made with her own tongue, and placing a hand at the back of her head, gently gripping her hair. Their tongues met, fighting for dominance as Jenna placed her hands on either side of Dean's neck.

Dean was silently cursing the chair back between them, making it impossible for them to get any closer…

It's Raining Men! Hallelujah! - It's Raining Men! Amen!
I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get
Absolutely soaking wet!
It's Raining Men! Hallelujah!
It's Raining Men! Every Specimen!
Tall, blonde, dark and lean
Rough and tough and strong and mean

They pulled apart quickly when the ringing sounded from Dean's coat pocket, Dean dropping his head forward, his eyes on the floor. Jenna leaned into him, her forehead meeting his and resting there as she laughed quietly, her hands still resting on his neck.

"MJ?" Jenna asked.

Dean looked up, pulling back from her. He nodded as he took hold of her hands, pulling them away from him and placing them at her side. When she met his gaze, she knew the moment was over and that he was leaving.

"Jenna, look uh-"

She shook her head. "It's fine, Dean. I get it."

"It's just- Mary Jane. I can't risk losing her. If we…and someone found out, how would that look?" He ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath. "I can't lose her, Jenna."

"I know." She said sincerely, smiling sadly at him.

He stood reluctantly, returning his chair to its original position on the other side of the table. "Thanks." He said, gesturing toward the table.

Jenna stood, smoothing her hair back. She grinned. "Yeah, anytime you want a drink at 8:30 in the morning you know who to call." She muttered.

"Hey, if the occasion calls for it…" Dean said somewhat awkwardly as he made his way to the door, Jenna a step behind him. She pulled the front door open, smiling up at him as he walked out.

"Thank you, Dean. It means a lot, what you did for me."

Dean turned to face her, standing on the porch. "Any time." He turned and descended the steps before turning back once more. "And I meant what I said. You are not a bitch. Far from it." He gave her his patented smile before making his way to his car. She watched him until the Impala disappeared from sight.

Dean walked into the motel room, tossing his keys down on the table and pulling off his jacket. Sam was standing near the bathroom and MJ was sitting at the small table by the door. Both looked up at Dean when he entered.

"Which one of you jokers thought they were being funny messing with my phone again, huh?" He asked, looking between them. When neither of them answered him, taking credit for the ringtone, he looked more closely at his siblings. MJ was sitting ram rod straight in her chair. Her face was flushed and her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. Sam looked apprehensive, standing awkwardly outside of the bathroom door, which Dean noticed was closed.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, making his way toward Sam. The sound of the toilet flushing made him stop in his tracks. "Who's in the bathroom?" He asked reaching into his waistband for his gun.

The bathroom door swung open and John strolled out, stopping short when he spotted Dean.

"Hello, son."