Worst Hello Ever

She hadn't been dreaming at all, so she had no idea where it came from. The warmth and that familiar scent with something else, something she couldn't place, even if she were awake. Even in her dreamless state, it invaded her and she half-woke just to call out his name, feeling hot tears streaking down her cheeks. "Dean…"

"I'm here, sweetheart…"

It was a hushed whisper and it made everything worse. As soon as she opened her eyes, she knew the moment was gone, the bittersweet waking dream would fade away and she'd be alone again. She wouldn't open her eyes, it was as simple as that.

"Janey, baby…"

She had to squeeze her eyes to keep them from flying open when something ghosted over the bridge of her nose. This was definitely the most realistic dream she had ever had and she let out a slow, shaky breath.

"Open your eyes."

Reluctantly, she did, knowing all dreams ended and this would be no different.


Bobby had been waiting for it. He didn't know what it was, but he had been waiting. Sure enough, not ten minutes after Dean had gone up those stairs, he got it. He grimaced when he heard a shrill scream, knowing Jane was awake now and probably having herself a heart attack.

He glanced at the stairwell, wondering if maybe he should go up and calm her down.

Nah.

"BOBBY!"

And then again…


Jane could move surprisingly fast when she was having a spaz attack and Dean's amusement was cut short when she pulled a sawed off on him. "Whoa! Jane, put that down!" He had just somehow miraculously gotten out of Hell, he wasn't in any hurry to go back.

All the blood had left her face, leaving her paler than usual and grim looking, her hands trembling as she tried keeping her focus –the barrel- on his face, wondering if she could really blow off his head. "You're not Dean." She said harshly, her voice cracking.

"Janey, sweetheart, put the gun down…" Dean raised his hands, sitting up slowly in the bed. "It's me."

"It's him, Jane."

Thank God for Bobby.

Jane looked back and forth between the two men, frowning. "What?"

"I tested him, he's… alive." Bobby was still having a hard time wrapping his head around it. "So try not to shoot him."

She slowly lowered the shotgun, finally setting it on the bed before she dropped it. "How?"

Dean shrugged; somewhat aware Bobby was vacating the room and made a mental note to thank the guy later for saving his bacon. "I don't know. I woke up," In his coffin no less and had to dig himself out. "And… came here." It was the heavily edited version, but he figured she wasn't up for anything to detailed right now.

"You woke up?" She echoed, easing herself down onto the bed before she collapsed. "You died, you just don't 'wake up'."

"Well, I did." He sat beside her, slowly, cautiously, because it looked like she still might either pass out from shock or try to shoot him. He didn't want to scare her any more than he already had. "That little forest you guys buried me in, flattened. The trees surrounding the site… it was like something touched down and took out everything in that spot."

"Is this temporary?"

"Huh?"

"Is this another deal? Are you going to disappear? Or die again?"

"No, I hope not, I really hope not."

"This is… nothing on your end?"

He shook his head, not about to tell her anything from his end.

"And, you're 100% human and back?"

Now a nod.

Jane took a deep breath and managed a weak smile before bursting into tears.


"What'd you do to her?" Bobby asked, staring down at the sleeping Jane. Her face was red and splotchy, he could see wet and shiny just under her nose –gross, snot-, and she refused to let go of Dean's wrist.

Dean, who was sitting awkwardly with a sheet around him, managed a sheepish smile that quickly faded when Bobby just glared at him. "I think she had a, uh, a panic attack. Or maybe it was shock. She seemed to be handling everything fine…"

"You idjit! She might've joined up with the hunting part but she's still not…"

"A hunter."

"Hell, even then Dean, coming back from the dead ain't usually on the menu but you and Sam both got that tucked under your belts."

Dean frowned slightly. "Thanks for the reminder."

Shaking his head, Bobby walked out of the room.

~!~

"You died."

"I died."

"And now you're back."

He nodded.

Jane groaned, running her fingers through her shaggy hair, absently thinking that it could really do with a cutting, as she contemplated her no longer deceased husband. "I had such a spaz attack."

"All things considered," He offered hesitantly, the right side of his mouth pulling up into a hint of a smile. "I think it's allowed."

"Maybe. Maybe I should have been expecting it though, Sam was-"

"You've been talking to Sam?" He interrupted, a bit sharply, feeling something coiling in his gut. He had known Sam was behind this, no matter how much he had tried telling Sam to just let it be, he had known his brother wouldn't. He couldn't. Just like Dean hadn't been able too.

"Yeah, why?"

"Bobby says he ain't talked to Sam since… Sam left."

"That's true."

"But you have?"

She nodded slowly.

"And?"

"He told me he couldn't find a way to bring you back, to save you. He tried, but nobody would deal with him, and Hoodoo wasn't really that great of an option." Jane stood up to stretch, feeling her back cracking with satisfying audible pops.

"Hmm. How's he been?"

"Drunk. A jackass." She snorted, now walking into the bathroom to retrieve her hairbrush. "I went and seen him a while ago, he was a jerk."

"You seen him? Why didn't you drag him home? Or stay with him?"

"Dean," She stared down at him, wondering if it was wrong that she had briefly contemplated sending him back to hell for the tone he had taken. She was getting a touch tired with the brother's and their way of making her feel like she was at fault for something in regards to the other. Sam's sitch had been that she hadn't somehow managed to save Dean's butt, to make him want to live and move on with his life. Dean sounded like she should have been babysitting Sam all this time. "Your brother is a mean drunk with a slight bi-polar issue. Why the hell would I submit myself to that?"

"Mean drunk? Sammy?" Dean looked like he was about to scoff that one off before his eyes narrowed. "Did he get mean with you, Jane? What'd he do?"

"He was just a dick." Actually, that was an understatement. Colossal dick might have been a bit better, but then… Sam had also been sad, and contrite. Bi-polar. She was going with that. And alcoholic. She finished with her hair, throwing the brush aside onto a basket of laundry she had yet to put away. "Enough about Sam." She moved to straddle his lap, bending down until her head was pressing against his. "I'm still having a hard time believing you're here."

"Me too." He breathed, wincing when her hand skimmed the print on his shoulder. The huge, hand-shaped blister.

Jane noticed and pulled back, finally noticing the livid mark and wondered how it escaped her attention before. "What the hell?"

He shrugged. "No idea, so don't ask."

She pursed her lips, wondering if there was any chance at all Sam was behind this. She didn't think so though. "What now?"

"Now… answers." He looked grim for a moment, trying not to envision what his brother had probably done and inwardly sighed. No helping it now. Now he just needed to find Sam and see about setting things straight. "You know, sweetheart, that was the worst hello I've ever gotten from you, including the time you jacked me in the jaw."

"Next time you come back from the dead, call first." She deadpanned.