A Moment or Two

Dean knew the wishes had been reversed, or was it 'never happened', when Jane suddenly inhaled, her back arching against his arm. "Jane?" He pulled away, peering into her face and felt relief coursing through him when he met blinking, confused, but conscious grey eyes. "Oh thank God…" He began showering kisses over her face, ignoring her weak mutterings and Hope walking past them. "I thought I lost you, sweetheart." His voice was husky with emotion.

Jane blinked at him almost owlishly, finally looking around, taking in their spot on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. "Is it over?" She asked, uncertainty lacing her tone.

"It's over."

As if to cement that, Wes walked out the door. He stared down at them for a long moment and then held out his hand.

Dean only just caught the coin when it was dropped.

Jane shifted in Dean's lap, watching as Wes trudged off, his shoulders down and rounded, head hanging. "He reversed all the wishes?"

"Yes." Dean breathed, clenching the coin tightly for a brief moment before stuffing it into a pocket. "Do you remember anything?"

"I died?" Her voice was very small.

He hesitated.

"I don't remember it. Being dead."

"It didn't happen Janey, not really." He soothed, hoping that wherever she had gone for that brief moment, it never resurfaced. He couldn't imagine his Jane going to hell, not her, but… maybe her association with him and Sam had tainted her somehow. Either way, he didn't want her to remember, if there was anything to remember. Hell might break her, Heaven might reduce her to tears at the loss if it lived up to expectation. "None of it did."

"None of what?"

Now it was his turn for confusion. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" She was working her way out of his lap, moving into a standing position and testing out her limbs, just to be sure.

"What… what happened here, with the wishes."

She considered him, watching as he stood up and shook her head. "Yes, and no… I remember us coming to here, to the restaurant, and arguing about the coin. There was that teddy bear… I guess I don't remember all that much." She sighed heavily, not liking the idea of having so few memories.

"But you knew you died, Jane." He was on his feet as well, not about to let her get too far from him, not now.

She frowned, sucking on her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I don't remember how it happened, and I don't want to know. I think the only reason I did is how you reacted when I came too." She reached out to take his hands in hers, squeezing gently. "You were crying, Dean." She said quietly, rather surprised when he didn't try to deny it. "And the way you were thanking the Almighty… it's not hard to put two and two together."

She had died. He felt the lump that had been stuck in his throat since seeing her drop swell almost larger for a moment before finally swallowing it down. The only thing he could think of as to why she couldn't really remember anything from his idiotic wish onward was due to the fact that the memories were largely associated with Sam and her 'marriage'. Thank whoever was looking out for him that she didn't remember that. She probably wouldn't appreciate the way she had acted with Sam, or the way he had acted with her. "Jane, I-"

"Everything's back to normal!"

Dean sighed and planted a kiss on his wife's forehead before turning to punch his brother right in his stupid face.

Sam had absolutely no idea why he'd gotten decked. "What the hell, dude?"

Dean just smiled. It was good to have everything, and everyone, back in proper order.


Dean was having a nightmare.

This wasn't unusual. Jane had noted the fact that he wasn't sleeping so much after coming back from Hell. At first, she had brushed it off of her 'to be freaked about' list because… he had just come back from Hell. Nightmares were definitely on the menu, and if they hadn't been, then she would have freaked.

But this was different. The nightmares seemed to be getting worse, and then there were the other symptoms. Such as the drinking. Dean drinking wasn't such a big deal, he drank. Dean drinking all the time however, instead of a beer or two in a bar or at the hotel, that was a big deal. Especially since he now carried a flask on him at all times, and it wasn't filled with holy water or dead man's blood.

Jane remembered what Sam had said to her, what he had brought up about Uriel. Uriel had told Sam to ask Dean what he remembered, which they both assumed had to do with his time downstairs. Dean had flat out said nothing, which they both knew was a lie. Well, Sam had known it was a lie pretty much the entire time. Jane had let it slide, but now… she was calling bullshit.

Almost every night, she woke up to him having nightmares. Sometimes, he would settle on his own with minimal bashing of elbows or wild punches. Other nights, well… she had learned to duck because whatever Dean was dreaming of, was setting off his inner Chuck Norris. She had learned to move quickly and either get out of the way or take the blow somewhere easily hid. She wasn't about to worry Dean over little bruises from things he had no control over.

That and he'd probably send her home.

"Dean?" She rolled over onto her side, facing him, knowing she was awake for good now. Her mind had begun racing, and if the way he was slicked in sweat was any indicator, this nightmare was a doozy. "Darlin', wake up…" She knew better than to touch him, he'd lash out.

"No…"

"Dean?" She hesitantly moved to a sitting position, staring down at him. She felt so helpless, wishing she could do something to stop these dreams from coming.

"I won't!"

That was loud and she instinctively looked at the door that adjoined to Sam's room, expecting him to come running in at any moment. When he didn't, she let out a slow sigh of relief. The relief was gone fairly quick when Dean began the thrashing, and all limbs were moving.

"Ouch…" She muttered when his forearm came crashing down her folded knees, deciding now would be a good time to get up. Odds were that in an hour, everyone would be up anyway.

"You!"

She had made it halfway to a standing position when Dean bellowed, feeling his fingers latching around her wrist and let out a panicked squeal when she was jerked back. "Dean! It's me!"

"You won't, I won't!" He growled, eyes wide open and seeing someone beside her. "I won't!"

"Dean!"


"You were right."

"About?"

"Everything Sam, I shouldn't have lied to you. I remember everything that happened to me in the Pit, everything."

Sam already knew this but he was surprised to hear the confession regardless. He stared at his brother over the top of the Impala, wondering what had brought this on. They were out in the parking lot, ready to go, minus Jane. She was still inside and Dean hadn't elaborated. He hoped everything was all right, but by the pale, pinched look on Dean's face, he was guessing that was a no. "So tell me about it."

"No." Dean's lips compressed into a thin line.

"Uh…" That wasn't helpful.

"Look man, I'm not going to lie anymore, but I'm not going to talk about it." Dean said flatly. At least, not with Sam, not yet. He had to talk about it with Jane, or at least, some of it, there just wasn't getting around that. Not anymore. Not after he had properly woken up and realized what he had done, what he had been doing.

Sam was obviously frustrated. "Dean, you can't shoulder this thing alone, you-" He stopped, hesitating when a thought occurred to him, feeling a bit hurt when he considered it. "Are you… have you talked to Jane?"

"A little."

"But not me?"

"Don't go there, Sammy. For the love of everything holy, do not go there." Dean moved so he was leaning against his beloved car, back to his brother. He kept his eyes on the pavement, more than aware that Sam had come around to stand in front of him. "Sam, I can't… there's just… some things can't be healed by talking it out, all right? Sharing and caring ain't going to fix this. It's not just a 'bad day' we're talking about."

"I know that."

"There aren't words for what I saw. There's no forgetting, and there's no making it better. I can't make you, or her, understand."

"But you talk to her." Sam wasn't really feeling overly hurt anymore, instead he was feeling suspicious because when he said 'her', Dean shifted from one foot to the other. "Dean?"

"I hurt her, Sammy."

Sam had to lean down to catch the whisper, his eyes widening slightly. "Not on purpose." He said instantly.

"No… but enough, and I don't think this is the first time." Dean slowly raised his head, smiling humorlessly when Sam flinched. He knew his eyes were probably wet. The very idea of what he had done to Jane made him sick, knowing what he could have done, what he was very capable of doing… to her… he wanted to cry and hurl all at the same time. "I talked to her… because I had too, she's earned that. But it doesn't help me."

"You want to help her."

Dean laughed, the sound as humorless as his smile. "She thinks it'll help me, so I talked some, to make her feel better. Hell, maybe it will, in time."

"What'd you do?"

"Am I interrupting?"

Sam got his answer a moment later when he looked at his sister-in-law, curious as to why she sounded so hoarse. He barely managed to keep his mouth from falling open as he did a very quick once-over. "No." He said finally, clearing his throat and looking at Dean, who was staring at Jane, pure misery radiating from him. "No."

Jane was looking a bit awkward, knowing damn well the cover-up and high collared shirt didn't completely hide the fact that she had been practically strangled to death. It didn't look too bad, not after her time with her make-up, but it felt bad. Dean had wanted her to go to the hospital, afraid he had damaged something, and she point blank refused. How would she explain it?

I'm sorry but my husband has nightmares of his time in hell. He thought I was a demon tormenting him and tried to kill me. Don't take him to prison?

Dean took her bag from her, passing it to Sam –who was all too happy to have something to do besides gawk- and gently pulled her into him. His brows furrowed together when she hissed and turned her arms upwards, pushing up the sleeves of her both her jacket and shirt. "Jane…" He felt his heart sinking even further down then it already had.

She smiled apologetically up at him, pulling away and covering her wrist back up. "It's fine." She rasped.

"No, no it's not." It wasn't fine, it was never going to be fine. He had beaten her up. He had abused her! He wasn't any better than the creatures they hunted. "Janey, you deserve better than this. You need to go, and-" He blinked when her hand covered his mouth.

"No."

He let her wrap her arms around him, feeling worse because he was taking comfort from her when it should have been the other way around, with someone else, who wasn't a spouse abuser. "Jane, I'm sorry." He whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry, baby."

She nodded, already knowing that.

"It's not going to happen again, ever."

Another nod.

"I won't let it." He'd become a caffeine and sleep-aid addict first. Hell, he'd start sleeping in another room entirely if he had too. "I'm sorry, Janey."

She planted a kiss on his pulse point before moving her lips to his jaw. "Enough." If she had to explain to him all the reasons why it wasn't his fault –again- with how bad her throat hurt, she was going to have to shoot him. She stared into his eyes, wishing there was something she could do to ease the guilt she seen. Actually, she wished there was a way she could erase his memories of Hell, she wanted to erase what little she knew, what little he had told her.

"God knows I don't deserve you, Jane-" He caught her hand before she could silence him again. "I love you Jane." He said firmly. He had told her this before, but she didn't remember hearing it. Stupid wish.

Her jaw dropped. She had sort of known it for a while, but actually hearing it was another thing entirely.

Sam kept himself busy in the trunk of the Impala, still, but did so very quietly so he didn't interrupt.

Dean, contrary to popular opinion, was capable of love. He had loved Cassie, but not like this. This was something else entirely, something that he felt down to his very core and with a conviction he hadn't had for anything else in his life. Taking care of Sammy, he did that whether it was right or wrong, but his conviction had wavered. Hunting down demons, entering those murky areas of black, and white and in between, conviction had wavered. But not this, not her.

He wasn't trying to use the words to wipe the slate clean, there was no cleaning it. They could only move through it. But considering how jacked this past week had been, how he had actually lost her once, and now all this, he wanted her to know. He needed her to know. He couldn't send her away, she wouldn't let him, he had already tried this morning after finding out what he had done. Even after he had admitted the truth about hell, and divulged as little information as possible while also fulfilling her request that he 'talk about it', she refused to leave. She wasn't giving up on him.

He had to make sure she knew. He knew he wasn't going to lose her, but she had to know regardless.

"I love you." He repeated softly.

Jane ducked her head, pressing her face into his leather jacket and breathed in deeply –through her nose, before letting out a wavering breath. Even though she ached physically, there was happiness radiating inside and it seemed to override everything. "I love you too." She whispered, pulling back so he could at the very least read her lips if he couldn't hear her, feeling a bit shy at finally admitting it out loud.

To him. Everyone else already knew. It wasn't that big a secret.

Despite the fact that he didn't deserve it, Dean felt a wave of delight and awe sweep through him, leaving him feeling very… happy, and right. This was right. Everything around them was seriously jacked, and he had wronged her in one of the most hurtful ways a man could a woman, but admitting this and her saying it back… it felt right.

Sam was grinning like a fool, glad they couldn't see him, glad they had apparently forgotten about him. This was such a 'moment', such a chick moment, but he couldn't keep from enjoying it. Hell, their entire relationship was taken from a chick flick, or a chick book. Married in a drunken haze, forgetting said marriage, going their separate ways, reuniting… and falling in love… He could have sold the rights to their story and made himself a tidy profit. Providing he removed all the blood, guts, hell trips, the supernatural aspects, and changed Bobby the crank to Betty the grandma figure and the snarky wit and beer to loving advice and cookies.

He'd razz on Dean about it some other time, for now, he'd let his big brother have this.