A/N: Time for a jump, and this chapter is set during season 1, at the end of episode 17: Hell House. Thanks to everyone who is following the story.

Reviews are delicious, flames are used to keep my feet warm while I write.

Knowing

2006

Sometimes, Jane hated Dean. She rarely thought about him, it had been seven years since he had left her in Mexico with nothing but a ticket home, and time eventually erased him from her immediate thoughts. But it was moments like these that she definitely remembered him and truly hated him.

Moments when she was confronted with something supernatural, and she knew it was supernatural, but she couldn't explain how. It had happened on and off, this knowing, and she blamed him. She had been perfectly oblivious to the weird things going on in this world but now… now she could recognize these happenings for what they were.

And she hated Dean for opening her eyes to it.

What she really hated him for was opening her eyes to the very strange thing she could do. Sometimes. She had always brushed it off as common sense. When he had hit that deer, it was a known fact that that road was a frequent deer crossing area, him hitting one… at the speed he had been driving… common sense. Burning that ghost, common sense, he had set out the items, she had gathered what they were intended for.

Wrong. It was Knowing. She just knew. She supposed it was some form of ESP, or some such thing, but since she never got glimpses of anything, but more of a feeling, she never really used any of those terms. Just Knowing, or common sense on maximum over drive. It wasn't something that happened frequently, but when it did occur, it generally meant something not of this world was happening around her.

She when she Knew she needed to go, she left. She didn't know where she was going, she just followed the instinct and took off. At this point, she had stopped working for her parents, who had never really forgiven her for taking off without a word and disappearing for a week. They certainly hadn't forgiven her when a year later she quit the bar and moved out, renting out a tiny unit with some people she barely knew and pursued an education at the community college.

College had worked out, and it hadn't. She had taken various courses and accumulated credits, but she had had a hard time settling on any specific degree. It didn't help that the college was local, and small, and offered next to nothing that she found particularly useful. But she was fairly educated, and had taken up a job working as a menial secretary, which was better than a bar wench. Better hours, some benefits, and somewhat better pay.

That was several years ago. She had changed jobs a few times, moved at least three times a year, and followed the Knowing whenever it decided to invade her life. She also slept with salt at her windows and doors, and she had added a sawed off shotgun to her tiny arsenal. It used slugs filled with rock salt.

Said sawed off was on the front passenger seat as she drove, enjoying the relative silence as she tried to ignore the mental tug guiding her. Her headlights flashed over the welcome sign and she slowed down, reading it. Welcome to Richardson, Texas. The tug was stronger now, and she knew she was going where she was supposed to.

This was his fault.

Oh yes, there were times when she really, really hated Dean Winchester.

Those two were idiots, Dean thought, happy to see the wanna-be ghost hunters pulling out of the RV site, everything they owned packed in and on their piece of crap car and in their piece of crap RV. Including the dead fish he had tossed in the back window.

"Truce?"

He stared at his brother over the roof of the Impala and flashed a grin. "Yeah, truce."

Sam returned the grin.

"For the next 100 miles at least." He smirked, expecting Sam to give him one of those stupid puppy dog looks that seemed to work on everyone else, but Sam was looking behind him. Dean frowned slightly, and then snorted. "Dude, the old 'over the shoulder' thing isn't going to work on me. Step up your game."

"Uh… Dean? It's not a-"

"Sam, seriously…"

Sam just folded his arms on the roof, eyes fastened beyond Dean.

"Get in the car and-"

"Dean Winchester…"

He knew that voice… Dean turned, eyes widening at the woman standing a few feet from him. "Jane?" He finally asked, clearing the rasp from his throat with a small cough. He looked her over. Tall, pale… no longer lanky but lithe, and she did not… there was no gray uniform, or messy black, bun. She looked different. Jeans, tank top, leather jacket…. Her black hair had been cut off into something short, curling under her ears, it was… cute.

He hadn't thought about Jane in years. He hadn't ever received anything about divorce papers, but considering he didn't actually have a home address outside of a P.O. box that changed frequently he didn't really expect anything. He just assumed she had done the smart thing. He didn't bother dwelling on the fact that after all this time, after only a few interesting days together, he still remembered her voice and what she looked like. "What… how…?"

Sam had come around the car at this point and studied the woman thoughtfully. He read her body language and knew what was coming a moment before she smacked Dean right across the face.

Dean held his face, scowling. "Don't tell me you're still holding a grudge?"

She slapped him again.

Sam coughed to cover his laugh, eyes darting between the pair. "So, uh, Jane?"

She nodded, looking like she might hit Dean at least one more time.

"How do you… know Dean?" That was lame, how did any woman know Dean? Sam shook his head, ignoring the look Dean was giving him.

"He kidnapped me, took me to Mexico, and then abandoned me there." Jane said, sounding rather calm about it.

"It's been… like… seven years, you can't still-"

She got him a third time.

"You know," Sam coughed again, trying his hardest not to smile too openly. "I like her."

"God Jane, you hell bitch…" Dean cursed, catching her hand before she could nail him again and twisted her arm until her back was against his chest. "Enough."

And it was like Mexico all over again, him growling out orders that she mindlessly seemed to obey.

Dean had never really considered himself a controlling, dominant man, excluding hunts and whatnot. Not with women, not generally. Sometimes the occasion called for it, and sometimes it was just that kind of sex, but with Jane… even after all these years, it just came natural. "Good girl." He murmured, letting go of her arm.

Sam winced when she brought her elbow back, right into Dean's gut. "You kidnapped her?"

Jane stepped away from Dean, before he could pull that growly, commanding stunt again, her mouth turned down into a frown. "If I would've known this is what I was coming for, I would have just dealt with the stupid headache!"

"Dude, kidnapped?!"

"I didn't kidnap her!"

She arched an eyebrow.

"Technically."